#wordcount 3500

[valiantstarlights]

[Dreamling Week Day 3: Curiosity (killed the cat)] An All-Consuming Kind of Love

This fic is very much within dead dove territory, so please read the CWs and proceed with caution. But if you enjoy that kind of thing, may I shamelessly ask for incoherent yelling in your tags? Please? 🖤

CW: oh wow where do I start 😂 Student!Dream highkey seducing Professor!Hob, Hob cheating on his girlfriend Eleanor with Dream, marathon sex...everywhere, Dark!Dream, drugging someone's food, blackmail, death(?) threats, dubcon, feminization, and equally unhinged!Hob.

If anyone needs assurance after reading those tags, then rest assured that Dream and Hob will end up together and they'll live happily ever after.

The thing is, Dream Endless isn't even Hob's student. He's only sitting in for his sister, Delirium, the one who is actually enrolled in Hob's course, because she had to go to rehab.

The first time Dream showed up, he was dressed in black from head to toe, and stared at Hob so intensely that after class, Hob had to check in the bathroom to see if he had something stuck in his teeth or, god forbid, if his fly was open.

And after that day, well.

Dream still dressed in black, but his style has...branched out. The first time Hob notices the mesh shirt instead of the usual black t-shirt, it took him a second too long to tear his gaze away, and Dream had smirked. His gaze, if possible, became even more intense after that.

And then he started wearing skirts. Plaid black and grey ones that Hob should not be salivating over, especially when Dream crosses his legs.

And after that, the skirt came with fishnet stockings and high heels. Just, full-on embracing slutty schoolgirl core, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.

(Hob isn't that old. He's just 34, and his students are no more than a decade younger than him.)

No one reprimands Dream because apparently, his skirt's length is long enough to pass inspection, and there's no rule against wearing fishnet stockings or heels.

(The people doing the inspection doesn't know that Dream would often roll his skirts up until the hem would fall barely past his mid-thigh.)

Hob supposes that he should count himself lucky that Dream's tops became more conservative when he started wearing skirts. If he had paired his mesh shirt with the skirts, it would have been all over for Hob.

Luckily, Dream's tops are mostly composed of simple blouses, often with long sleeves, accessorized with a long red ribbon tied around his neck, like he was a goddamn present waiting to be unwrapped.

Hob tries very hard not to notice it when Dream pulls one end of the ribbon in class and twirls it around his long fingers. He doesn't do it hard enough to untie the ribbon, but it's enough to keep Hob's imagination churning out incredibly vivid images of what he'd like to do to Dream's pale neck.

Hob is trying very hard to be a good person. He has a girlfriend he loves. He's even thinking about proposing to her once he gets promoted.

--

A few weeks before Delirium is set to come back, Hob is running late, and accidentally bumps into a student while going up the stairs.

The student falls forward, and Hob barely catches them from faceplanting into the edges of the stairs. The papers they were holding aren't so lucky, however, and ends up scattering around them in a cascade of paperwork.

Hob curses but bends down and starts helping the student gather up their papers. The student, a step above him, bends down as well to start collecting their things.

"I'm sorry, Professor Gadling," the student says, and Hob looks up because he knows that voice. And sure enough, it's Dream Endless, wearing his slutty schoolgirl outfit.

Hob is just about to say that it's fine, he's the one at fault here, when he sees a sliver of the inside of Dream's blouse, and catches a glimpse of a lacy black bra.

His thoughts come to a standstill. Is Dream...also wearing female undergarments under his clothes? For some reason, the thought never occurred to him before, and the revelation has him gawking like a fool in broad daylight, leading Dream to say, "Are you alright, Professor? You look flushed."

Hob nods and keeps his head low after that, intent on just helping Dream gather his things and handing it to him so they could both get to class.

"Thank you, Professor," Dream says after Hob has given him his things. He's looking up at him through his lashes, even when they're roughly the same height. For some reason, Dream always manages make himself look smaller than Hob.

And, fuck, is he wearing make-up? Or had his lips always been that shade of pink?

Dream smiles when Hob remains transfixed, and starts going up the stairs again.

Hob's big mistake is looking up to follow Dream with his gaze.

Because Dream is wearing a thong under his skirt, and Hob can see the base of an anal plug resting between his ass cheeks.

He swears under his breath, and sure enough, Dream looks back down towards him. "Sir?" he asks, sounding demure and shy and tempting. He cocks his hips to one side and Hob could see how the plug twitched, like Dream just squeezed tight around it.

"I'm fine," Hob says through gritted teeth, and speedwalks his way up the stairs and a couple of corridors to reach the lecture hall.

Dream arrives not long after him and makes sure to sit in the very front row, legs slightly open, eyes dark, daring, wanting, allowing Hob to take a look.

Hob spends the rest of the class behind his desk to hide his erection.

--

Hob can't pinpoint when exactly he admits to himself that he wants to fuck one of his students.

(Again, technically, Dream isn't even his student, but the fact that he's using the word 'technically' already means he knows he's in big trouble.)

Was it when Hob rushed out of the lecture hall the very same day he bumped into Dream on the stairs, his messenger bag placed strategically in front of his crotch area?

He couldn't help it if his thoughts were racing, and his body was quicker than his mind. He couldn't help it if the thought of sliding Dream's thong to the side, removing his plug, and sliding right into his slutty little hole had him locking himself up in a bathroom stall and jerking himself off furiously.

Was it when Dream came to class eating a red lollipop so lasciviously that even a couple of students stared at him in lust? Was it after, when he coldly turned down the Corinthian twins' offer to fuck him?

Was it when Hob was having sex with his girlfriend one night and almost moans out Dream's name when he came?

Or is it today, when Dream is sucking on a popsicle in the quad, in plain sight of Hob's office window? When Dream deepthroats the popsicle while gazing lustfully into Hob's eyes?

Is it when Hob tilts his head just so, beckoning Dream to come to his office? Hob's consultation hours just finished, after all, and he's just about to head home for the weekend.

When did Hob realize that thoughts of Dream have consumed him? He doesn't know.

But perhaps it was on the very first day Dream came to his lecture hall and their eyes met. When Hob thought how cute Dream was and how unfortunate that he was his student. And then delighting, afterwards, when he finds out that Dream isn't his student, at least not officially.

--

Hob pins Dream against the door as soon as he enters his office and fucks his tongue inside Dream's still slightly cold mouth.

"Fucking tease," Hob mutters against Dream's lips, almost ripping his white blouse in his haste to put his mouth on Dream's bra. On Dream's tits.

"Professor Gadling," Dream moans breathily, not even pretending he doesn't want this. One of his long fishnet-clad legs is already hooked around Hob's waist. Fuck. This flexible little minx. Hob wants to see just how far he could bend Dream in half. "We shouldn't--ah, here--"

"Then where do you want me to fuck you, hmm? In my car in the middle of the parking lot? In the apartment I share with my girlfriend?" Hob bites Dream's throat and soothes the skin with his tongue. "Or maybe you want me to fuck you raw in your dorm room. Do you have roommates, baby? Do you want them to watch?"

Dream squirms in his arms, panting, trying to dissuade Hob from stripping him naked. He looks absolutely delectable, and Hob is intent on finally untying that damn red ribbon from his neck and marking him up with his teeth. "I..." Dream licks his lips and runs delicate fingers against Hob's stubble. "My family has a cabin. It's about an hour's drive away. We could--"

"You want me to drive us to your family's fancy cabin for a fuck?" Hob asks and grinds his erection against Dream's, watching in rapt attention how he keens and throws his head back against the door in pleasure. "When I can just take you right here against the door?"

Dream shakes his head. He's blushing so prettily, suddenly so shy, that Hob leans forward and gives him another filthy kiss.

"Professor!" Dream protests, and actually pushes him back a little. Not enough to dislodge Hob's body against his, but enough so they could talk face to face. "I was thinking...maybe...for the whole weekend?"

Oh, fuck.

"You want me to fuck you for an entire weekend?" An eager nod. "In your family's cabin?" Another eager nod, and a hopeful, chaste kiss to his chin. Dream is so fucking sweet and sexy at the same time that Hob doesn't know what to do with him. "Baby, I don't think I can drive like this." He grinds his cock against Dream again, and Dream responds this time by reaching between them and fondling Hob through his slacks.

"It's okay, Professor," Dream says, smiling impishly. "I'll take the edge off for you."

--

Despite Dream torturing Hob with his slutty outfits for what feels like several months already, Dream proves that he can be a very good boy when he wants to.

"You should call your girlfriend, sir," he says, lips slick and red and tempting, Hob's cockhead resting against his lower lip. Hob has already cum in his mouth once, and true to Dream's word, it has taken the edge off. Hob could think more clearly now. "So she wouldn't worry. Tell her you have a conference or something."

Hob chuckles and smears his cum across Dream's lips more. "How considerate of you to think about my girlfriend worrying about me when I'll be spending the entire weekend fucking you."

Dream pouts, not even saying anything in reply to that, and Hob immediately caves.

--

Hob calls Eleanor to tell her about a sudden teacher's conference being held this weekend while Dream warms his cock.

He mouths 'good boy,' to Dream, who blinks coquettishly up at him, but part of Hob thinks he's the good boy in this scenario, just doing what Dream wants him to do.

He doesn't get to say 'I love you,' to Eleanor because when he was about to, Dream sucks him so good that he had to hang up and muffle his groan against his fist.

--

Halfway through the drive, Dream makes Hob stop the car so he could suck his cock again.

Barely a couple of miles after that, Hob stops the car so he could fuck Dream's thighs in the backseat.

--

Once in the cabin, they barely make it to the bed, but make it they do. Hob wants Dream to be comfortable when he takes Hob's cock in his ass. Hob knows he's much larger than average, and he would hate to see Dream in pain.

He's not a total monster. Sure, he may lie to his girlfriend so he could fuck his student's brother for an entire weekend, but he's not going to treat said student's brother badly. He's better than that.

Hob eats Dream out twice before he even enters him, sucks on his nipples until they're red and swollen as they fuck, and finally gets to mark Dream's neck with his teeth.

He fucks Dream's hole until he's gaping and leaking cum because he's unable to clench his hole closed enough to stop the flow. Hob teases him that they should perhaps switch to a larger plug to accommodate his loose pussy, but does no such thing. He likes it when Dream has to concentrate and keep clenching his ass in between rounds so he could keep the plug in place.

All the while Dream begs for more of him. For everything.

And Hob gives it to him.

--

They fuck the entire weekend. On the bed, in the bathroom, against the walls, Dream bent over various furniture, on the rug in front of the fireplace, against the kitchen counters, outside on the front porch, on the hood of Hob's car...

Hob is surprised at himself. He's not that young anymore, but give him one Dream Endless and he feels like he's at the peak of his youth again.

Hob tells himself it's only his desperation making him vigorous. He's only going to get Dream this weekend, and after that, who knows? When Delirium comes back, would Dream still feel the need to sit in on Hob's class, or is this it? Is Dream going to move on to seducing someone else?

No.

Every time Hob thinks that, Dream seducing someone else, another professor, another man, he pushes himself and fucks the boy harder.

Unacceptable. Hob is going to ruin him for everyone else, just like how Dream has been set on ruining him from day one.

--

Dream sometimes says, 'I love you,' to Hob when he's getting fucked so good that his eyes roll up to the back of his skull, but Hob thinks it's just something Dream says without knowing he's saying it. Many people say things during sex that they don't mean.

But when Dream says, "Mine," right after the two of them collapsed in bed after yet another round of fucking, Hob says, "All yours this weekend, yeah."

And Dream says, "Well see."

--

It's Sunday night and Hob is supposed to drive them both back to civilization. Dream has insisted upon dinner before leaving, though, and Hob is loathe to reject him because Dream has been working hard, cooking throughout the day in between their rounds, and Hob knows he's going to miss this.

(Dream has banned him from the kitchen as he cooks. Hob thinks he's adorable but follows his instruction anyway.)

He feels something warm in his heart as he sees the spread of food that Dream has been preparing. Roasted lamb, venison pasties, fruit tarts--all of them Hob's favorite.

('How did he know?' a tiny voice in Hob's mind asks, but is quickly ignored in favor of taking in Dream's shy smile.)

"Did you cook all this from scratch?" Hob asks, awed. Eleanor doesn't cook. It's either Hob cooks for them both or they order in. He doesn't feel bitter about it. It's just the way they are.

"Yes," Dream says simply. "I want to be able to cook well for you."

Oh. Oh. An uncomfortable feeling rises in Hob's stomach.

Dream loves him.

Actually wants to date him.

This is a very bad idea.

"Dream..."

Dream ignores the tone of Hob's voice and sits on one side of the table. Hob belatedly realizes that, although there is a lot of food on the table, the table itself is small enough to be intimate. Like the two of them are on a date. "Let's eat."

--

"Dream," Hob says in-between bites of the really excellent pasties. "You know I have a girlfriend."

"I do," Dream says. "I even asked you to call her, didn't I?"

"And you know that I love her."

A pause. "Sure."

"So this, between us-- You know it can never happen again, right?" Like Hob isn't the one dead set on ruining Dream for any future lover.

Dream shrugs and sips his wine. He has barely eaten, but Hob saw him tasting the food earlier, so he figures Dream made all of this for him, and is just enjoying seeing Hob eat. Hob is the same sometimes, so he cannot fault Dream for having the same habit. "If you say so."

--

Hob wakes due to the early morning sunlight hitting his face directly.

He's confused for a second, because his bedroom in the apartment isn't facing east, before the events of last night came rushing back to him.

The delicious dinner. Dream drinking wine. Feeling increasingly dizzy. Dream rushing towards him so he wouldn't fall to the floor. Passing out with Dream telling him everything's going to be alright.

Hob thought it was strange that Dream wasn't panicking or rushing to grab his phone to call the hospital.

And now, Hob is tied to the bed, naked, arms and legs bound to the bed posts with silk ropes. Gagged. He tries tugging on the ropes to no avail. Whoever tied him up knew what they were doing.

He is alone in the room, but not for long.

Dream enters a few minutes later, probably alerted by the sounds Hob had been making in his bid to escape his bonds, wearing only a short fluffy bathrobe. He's holding Hob's phone in his hands

'Dream!' Hob tries to say. It comes out muffled through the gag.

"Good morning, Professor," Dream says, smiling. He leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "Will you be good for me today?"

'What the fuck are you playing at! Let go of me!'

"That doesn't sound like a 'yes,'" Dream remarks. "Maybe you need a little incentive to cooperate?"

Dream climbs on the bed then, sitting his naked and already lubed-up ass against Hob's member, which did not get the memo and is currently growing thicker despite the predicament Hob is in.

Dream flips over Hob's phone to show him the screen, and Hob sees his 'incentive' to be good.

It's a picture of Dream, curled up naked in his arms, asleep. One of Hob's arms is looped around his body in a possessive hold, and the other is holding the phone up for a selfie. Hob's face isn't shown, but his students would know his chin and neck and hair. Eleanor would know his chest and arms.

Hob's blood runs cold. It was an impossible shot that wouldn't be possible if it's only him and Dream in the cabin, so there must another person who helped Dream carry Hob, arranged the two of them in bed, and took the photo while propping up Hob's arm to make it look like Hob is the one taking it.

Hob remembers the large, muscled, red-haired man he saw once or twice in campus with Dream. At first, he thought it was Dream's boyfriend, but finds out from overhearing a couple of students that the man is one of Dream's brothers. Hob isn't sure who the older brother is between the two.

Dream sits patiently on top of him as he's having these realizations. "Should I send this to your girlfriend, Professor?" he asks, when he sees Hob's eyes focus on him once more. "Or are you going to be good for me?"

Hob nods decisively. He'll say he's gonna be good. But the moment he gets free, he'll grab his phone from Dream, delete the picture--

Dream smiles and grinds down on him a little. His cock twitches and oozes out precome, which Dream scoops up from Hob's lower stomach and licks from his fingers, humming in delight at the taste. "My brother is nearby," he says, pleasant as anything. "If he sees you harming me, you're not even going to make it back to your car. And before you ask, we have already siphoned the gas, and removed the car battery."

Hob feels tears pricking his eyes. What the fuck...who the fuck are these people?

"Do you understand now, Professor?" Dream asks. "I said you're mine. And I'm not in the habit of lying. Or sharing, come to think of it."

Hob nods, timidly this time. How the fuck has this gone so wrong? Was there even a warning sign that Hob should have noticed before it came to this?

Dream smiles and kisses him chastely on the chin. "Good. Now, Professor, I want you to be very, very well-behaved for me..."

--

"Professor Gadling!" Dream squeals, thighs opened wide and shaking, his breath stuttering as Hob fucks him hard from behind. "O-oh gods, please, your cock feels so good!"

"You like this, Dream?" Hob says against his ear, enjoying, despite everything, this sick sadistic play. All he has to do is play along, and he's going to be fine. Everything will go back to normal. He's going to go back to his job, to his girlfriend, and put all this behind him. Maybe he'll request a transfer next semester. Somewhere as far as they could send him. "You like me splitting you open like a whore?"

Dream nods frantically and lets out a high pitched whine. "Y-yes, sir. I love...I love being filled with your cum. I love sitting on your cock all day." He gasps as Hob starts stroking his cock in time with his thrusts. "Professor, please..!"

"Please what, darling? What do you want? Tell me." The endearment slips out of him accidentally, and he feels Dream squeeze him thrice in quick succession as a reward. He curses and pounds him harder. "So fucking tight. Best damn cunt I ever put my cock in."

That line wasn't part of the script.

Dream moans at that unexpected treat and turns his head to the side, begging for a kiss. Hob grants it to him. He fucks Dream's mouth with his tongue and uses his free hand to cup one of Dream's tits. A perfect fucking handful. He twists the nipple and imagines milk squirting out of it. Imagines Dream's milk-heavy tits leaking in class, his eyes filled with tears because he can't wait for the hour to be over so Hob could nurse from him right on his desk. Imagines Dream pushing him down on the desk so he can ride him after Hob drinks his fill. Imagines him pushing aside his lacy panties and holding his skirt up as Hob fucks up into him, giving him his daily dose of cum.

"Gonna breed you, baby," Hob says. People say things they don't mean during sex. It's perfectly normal. "Not gonna let you out of this damn bed until you're round with my cum, and then I'm gonna marry you so you can be my slut forever."

Dream shrieks and cums at his words, and as Hob continues railing him to overstimulation, he gasps out, "Yes, yes, please sir--want you to marry me--I'm yours, just yours--ah--"

Hob pushes in deep and cums inside again, moaning Dream's name out loud, then peppers his sweet boy's tear-streaked face and pale neck with fervent little kisses.

Maybe he's just as fucked up as Dream is, and maybe he always has been.

--

There is a red light blinking in the corner of the room, recording.

Only one of the room's current occupants know that it's there.

--

To: Eleanor

I'm with someone else now, and he's better than you ever were. I love him and we just got married. I'll send someone to get my things.

--

Hob sends that message himself, but he sends a different photo than the one Dream threatened to send. It's of Dream wearing all white lingerie. Bralette, lacy panties, garter belt, stockings--the entire thing, but he's also wearing a beautiful wedding veil, and he's holding a bouquet of white roses. He's kneeling in bed and is splattered with Hob's cum from forehead to groin, looking incandescently happy, smiling up at the camera with eyes full of love.

Hob turns off his phone and throws it to the side, intending on going back to bed to ruin his baby boy even more.

Dream welcomes him with open arms, smile shy but looking so goddamn happy.

"You're all mine now, aren't you, baby?" Hob asks, pushing his husband back on the bed and spreading his legs so Hob could see the mess he made earlier. He grips one cheek and watches as a dollop of cum oozes out of Dream's hole and onto the bedsheets.

Dream leans up and kisses him, winding his long stockinged legs around Hob's waist and welcoming Hob's cock back into his fucked out hole once more. They are surrounded by white rose petals from the bouquet. Dream must have plucked and scattered them throughout their marriage bed while Hob was sending his last message to Eleanor. Always so fucking romantic. Hob can't wait to reward Dream for being so good to him.

"All yours forever, Professor Gadling."

#??? ????? #trust me idk either #i was supposed to write for the synesthesia prompt 🥲 it was supposed to be fluffy #anyway have another dark spicy fic from me #i'm sorry eleanor but in this au you deserve better #(chokes upon seeing the wordcount) what do you mean this is 3500 plus words worth of filth unedited #good job my thumbs #like holy shit very good job 👏👏👏 you deserve a wahoo 🎉🎉🎉 #dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #the sandman #my writing #dream (pouting at destruction): help me seduce del's professor #destruction: ok but what will I get in return? #dream (rummaging through his things): I have a ball of string and a coupon so you could adopt a dog from the shelter #destruction: alright deal

[goldenempyrean]

Interstellar Sniffles

〚 Notes - Hi, I finally got round to writing something suffient. Hopefully this is enough :) There's a definitely a chance for a pt2 if that's something you'd like, just lmk! 〛

〚 Pairing - WandaNat x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Nat get's sick with an Asgardian illness so it falls on you and Wanda to take care of her. Even if it means catching her germs. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 3500 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

〘 Part 2 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Asgardian-Muticulated-Rhinovirus 

Nothing more than a minor inconvenience for most Asgardians. Light sniffles, minor headache? Well, that was nothing to the Thunder God from space but for humans? Regular humans with regular Earth immune systems. Maybe it was a little bit more complicated than that. 

It was a pretty normal Sunday when the God had landed back at the compound early that afternoon - he’d just come back from tending to some urgent out-of-worldly business and had decided to swing by to pay a visit to his fellow Avengers. Everybody was glad to see him and the whole team spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up. However, unbeknownst to the rest of the team, souvenirs and stories weren’t the only thing that Thor had brought back with him.  

As the night drew on everyone had retired into one of the entertainment rooms to stick on a movie and get comfortable. You found yourself sitting in between your two girlfriends, Wanda at your left casually playing Flappy Bird on her phone not really paying attention to the ongoing film while Nat was curled up on your right, her head resting against your shoulder. 

After about an hour, you couldn’t help but notice Nat becoming unsettled as she tried to stop herself from yawning widely. This continued for a few minutes before her final attempt of stifling her yawn failed and she gave in to it and stirred against you as she mumbled, “I think I’m gonna head to bed.” 

“You okay baby?” Wanda asked, overhearing her groggy mumble. 

“I'm fine, just tired.” The redhead dismissed her worry with a small smile before offering her hands out to both of you, “You two coming?” 

Now that she mentioned it, it was getting late and going to bed was probably a sensible idea. So, the three of you said your goodbyes and headed off in the direction of your bedroom. 

Out of view of the guys, Nat let herself relax a little and it became obvious that she was beyond tired. Her movements felt stiff, and her eyes seemed to be closing on their own accord. Slipping an arm around her waist, Wanda led her into the bedroom and sat her down at the end on the bed. 

“PJs?” You offered, after receiving two nods you went to find some whilst your two other girlfriends washed up for bed. By the time they came back out you’d laid out two sets and were already half-changed into your own.  

Whilst the two were changing, you washed up yourself and came back into the bedroom to find Nat already snuggled down in the centre of your king-size bed, blanket wrapped snugly around her leaving only her red tied back hair in view. 

“She settled down fast.” You noted as you grabbed your pyjama shirt from the edge of the bed. 

Wanda nodded as she came over to throw her arms over your shoulder’s, softly tugging on the black straps of your exposed bra, “She’s just tired. Maybe we can sleep in a little tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’ll turn my alarm off then.” You agreed but something was still playing on your mind, “Do you not think it's a little odd though?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, she seemed lively and then in the space of a few hours she was exhausted.” You pursed your lips a little as Wanda squeezed your shoulder in comfort. 

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting how draining all the guys can be once we’re all together.” Wanda offered in response before kissing your exposed collarbone, “Plus it’s not just her, we’re both tired too, don’t deny it. I can see it in your eyes.” 

“I guess you’re right.” You admitted and turned your head to the side to kiss Wanda’s lips before she released you from her hold, “I still find it odd though.” 

You looked over to give Wanda a final unsure glance to which she only shrugged her shoulders a little before climbing in bed beside the redhead. With nothing more to say, you finished changing into your pyjamas before quickly climbing into bed yourself, snuggling down into the thick covers. To your surprise, Nat already seemed to be asleep, her head settled comfortably against Wanda’s shoulder. 

“She’s adorable when she’s sleepy.” Wanda whispered quietly as she carefully leaned over to kiss your cheek, “Goodnight darling.” 

“Goodnight sweetie.” 

〘✧✧✧〙    

When you woke up the next morning you instantly knew something was up. Someone was snoring. 

Now this may seem completely normal at first, but the thing was that neither Wanda nor Nat snored. Ever. Not once in the three years you’d been sharing a bed had you woken up to snoring. Wait no, maybe except for that one time Wanda had the flu for a week and was so congested her snores were more akin to the sound of a jet plane then natural human noises. 

Listening closely, you quickly realised that the sounds were coming from the girl cuddled closely beside you. 

As you shifted a little to get a better look at Nat, you noticed that her face was flushed, and her breathing was slightly laboured. Her body was radiating heat and she seemed to be tossing and turning uncomfortably. 

Immediately, you knew that something was wrong. You gently shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up. "Nat, Nat, wake up," you whispered softly, but she didn't stir. You shook her again, a little harder this time. "Natasha, wake up," you repeated, more urgently. 

Finally, she stirred, her eyes opening slowly. As she looked up at you, you could see the exhaustion and discomfort etched on her face. "What's wrong?" she asked hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face into you. 

“You were tossing and turning a lot baby,” You explained, “and you were snoring pretty loudly which is unlike you.” 

Natasha nodded weakly, still looking dazed and unwell. "I feel really hot," she murmured, pressing her hand to her forehead. 

You instinctively reached out to touch her forehead as well, and your fears were confirmed. Her skin was burning hot to the touch. "You do feel really warm baby, I’m pretty sure you’re running a temperature,” you sighed, your voice laced with concern. 

You felt a pang of worry in your chest. It sounded like she might be coming down with something, and you couldn't help but feel guilty for not noticing the signs the night before. 

Wanda stirred beside you, her eyes opening slowly. "Is everything okay?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. 

"Nat's not feeling well," You explained, your voice soft. 

Wanda's expression softened as she looked at Nat. "Oh, baby," she whispered, reaching out to stroke her hair gently, “This is why you were so tired, hm?” 

Her response was only a small nod followed by a thick set of rattling coughs which left her red and breathless. You and Wanda each exchanged worried glances as the latter rubbed began to her back whilst you stood up to go get her some water. 

Luckily in the few moments it took to get her the drink, her chest had seemed to calm down a little and Nat was now sitting up as Wanda continued to rub comforting circles along her back. 

“Drink this for me baby?” You asked, offering out the glass of water to which she accepted readily. 

Once she’d drank half, Nat leaned back against the pillows, her eyes closing as she swallowed the rest of the water down, "God, sorry," she whispered, sounding embarrassed. 

"It's not your fault," Wanda said calmly, love seeping into her tone as she took her hand, squeezing it gently, “Maybe you can try and sleep for a little bit longer though? It’s still pretty early.” 

Natasha nodded weakly, too tired to argue. She closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable, but her body felt achy and sore all over. The coughing fit had left her feeling drained, and she didn't have the energy to do anything but lie there. Both you and Wanda exchanged more worried looks before you both settled back into the bed beside her, doing your best to offer her comfort as she tried to drift off to sleep. 

She managed to sleep for another couple of hours or so but truthfully it didn’t seem to help much. It seemed in her sleep; everything had shifted to her head because when Nat woke up, she was unable to keep herself from sniffling. 

She groaned softly and tried to sit up, but her body protested, and she fell back onto the pillows with a sigh. It was clear that she was in no state to do anything. 

Wanda, who had been dozing off beside her, slowly woke up at the sound of her sniffles. "Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked softly, reaching out to touch Nat's forehead to check for a fever only to be met with blazing hot, sweaty skin causing her face to frown with worry. 

She softly moved some of the damp crimson curls out of Nat’s fever flushed face, “Wake Y/N up, okay?” She nodded towards to your sleeping form, “I’m gonna get you something for this fever. You’re really burning up baby.” 

Wanda quickly got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom to grab some cold towels and a fever reducer. As she left, you stirred awake, feeling the movement in the bed beside you. 

"Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling?" You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision as you woke up. 

Natasha sniffled again and shook her head as she shuffled closer to you. “Not good," she croaked out, her voice sounding scratchy and hoarse. "Wanda's getting me something for the fever." 

You frowned with concern and sat up, looking at her closely. Her skin was hot to the touch, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused.  

"It’ll be okay baby," you reassured her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Just rest and let Wanda help you." 

You sat with her in silence, holding her close as Wanda returned with a bottle of Tylenol and a damp washcloth which she handed to you to dab gently along the side of her crimson cheek before wiping away the droplets of sweat that had collected along her brow. 

Natasha winced as you touched the washcloth to her skin, her body clearly sensitive to even the slightest touch. You murmured soothing words as you continued to wipe her down, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Still, she was grateful for the coolness of the cloth against her feverish skin. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling the medication start to take effect. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to ruin our weekend, we were meant to go out for lunch, weren’t we?" 

You shook your head, "You didn't ruin anything, Nat. We'll just take care of you and make sure you feel better." 

Wanda sat on the other side of the bed, watching over the two of you with a soft smile. "I'm here too, you know," she teased, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully, “How about we go settle on the sofa and watch some cringy Netflix movies?” 

You couldn't help but laugh as Wanda suggested watching cringy Netflix movies, knowing it was the perfect distraction for Natasha. However, your laughter was cut short as she suddenly sneezed, her head not having the time to move back from its position on your chest. 

“"H'htschoo!” 

"Sorry!" Natasha apologised, clearly embarrassed by her sudden outburst, sniffling frantically as she gratefully accepted the tissues Wanda had offered out for her. 

You tried to hide your grimace as you looked down at the wet mark she’d left behind on your shirt, “Thanks for that.” You forced yourself to joke as you pulled off the contaminated shirt. 

Wanda gave you a sympathetic smile before turning to Natasha, who was looking truly mortified. "Don't worry about it," she said, patting Natasha's hand reassuringly. "We'll just make sure to keep some tissues on hand." 

You wrapped a warm blanket around Natasha's shivering form, and let Wanda guide her out the living room whilst you went over to your drawers to pick out a new shirt. By the time you’d joined them on the sofa, Nat and Wanda were already cuddled beneath a thick blanket snuggled together close for comfort. They had left a spot for you, and you sank into it whilst Wanda picked out a terrible movie for all of you to mock. 

But as the day wore on, Natasha's condition worsened. Her cough became more persistent, and her nose became increasingly congested all while sending her into throat wrenching, messy fits of sneezes every few minutes. Mounds of crumpled tissues littered the area and by the evening, her throat was so sore the poor girl was barely able to speak. 

Finally, the two of you made the decision that it was time to see Bruce. Just to be on the safe side. 

“Wanda, can you go up and grab one of her hoodies? A warm one preferably.” You asked as you sent a quick text to Bruce to let him know you were coming down to his lab. 

Wanda nodded and quickly made her way upstairs to grab one of Natasha's hoodies. You helped Natasha put it on, being careful not to jostle her too much as she leaned on you for support. 

Once she’d returned, you watched as she helped Nat into the soft hoodie before making your way out of the living room and down the halls. Somewhere along the way, the three of you ran into Clint, Thor, Tony and Cap who’d clearly just finished their joint training session together. 

“Jeez, what happened to Romanoff.” Clint was first to ask the obvious question. 

You went to answer but Nat’s loud set of sneezes seemed to speak for themselves, and you held her closer, “We’re just taking her to get looked at by Bruce.” You explained and the guys offered to come with, clearly worried for the state of their friend. 

You all made your way down to the lab where Bruce was waiting for you. He greeted you with a sympathetic smile, having seen many of the Avengers in various states of illness and injury over the years. 

"Hey, Natasha. What's going on?" he asked, pulling out his stethoscope and beginning his examination. 

Natasha explained her symptoms between sneezes and coughs, and Bruce listened carefully, nodding along as she spoke.  

"It sounds like you have a pretty bad cold, Natasha," he said, after finishing his examination. "But I'm going to run a few tests just to be sure." 

Natasha nodded weakly, looking exhausted from the effort of speaking. The guys gathered around her, offering words of comfort and support as Bruce took some blood samples and swabs. 

As you waited for the results, Bruce gave Natasha some medication to ease her symptoms, and she settled down to rest on one of the lab couches, her head resting on your lap. You and Wanda both stroked her hair gently, trying to soothe her as best you could but it wasn’t long before she stirred, scrunching up her nose as she tried to get rid of the oncoming itch. 

“Hheh..Hehttshoo! Hh’itschieww! Hhi-Hh-H’tsschiew!” 

“Bless you love” Wanda whispered as she helped Nat to sit up so she could go and get her some tissues. 

Luckily it didn’t take long for the results to come through and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was staring at them in confusion. You weren’t the only to notice, however. 

Surprisingly, it was Tony who spoke up first, “Banner what’s wrong?” 

Bruce looked up from the test results, frowning. "These results are strange," he said, looking at Natasha, “I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s definitely a pathogen present, that’s for sure, but it matches nothing in our databases- The fuck?-” 

The room almost shared a collective gasp, nobody had heard the man swear before. Instantly you got up to go and look at the screen displaying the results along with Tony and the rest of the guys. 

“According to this, the origin of the pathogen isn’t from earth. It has the structure of a cold, but mutated in different ways, it’s hard to understand. I can't get my head round these readings.” He sighed in annoyance, hating the fact he couldn’t understand it. 

“How did she even catch this?” You mumbled outloud. 

”I think I know...” Banner finally concluded as something in his brain seemed to click, his eyes casting towards the only man who had the means to leave the planet, “Thor?” 

“No, no. Thats not possible. I haven’t been sick in years. I wouldn’t have come back if I was.” The God frowned; eyebrows furrowed with concern as Nat mumbled something intelligible into Wanda’s shoulder who was shushing her quietly.  

Bruce sighed a little as he ran his hand across an electronic screen which brought up a pop up showing his anatomy as he explained, “Well that's the thing about viruses, even if you’re not sick yourself, you can still pass them on through contact with the same surfaces for example. And judging on how little we know about the viruses' effects on Earth, the rate of infection is unknown meaning...” He paused and turned to the sniffling redhead, “Everyone here should avoid going out in public for the next few days, especially you Natasha - just to be safe.” 

In all honesty, you weren’t even sure that she had heard the string of sentences which had just left his mouth, but she nodded anyway. 

The rest of the Avengers agreed to stay in for a few days before filtering out of the door slowly leaving the three of you and Bruce still in the room. 

“So, she’s definitely, okay?” You asked again, wanting to be 100% sure. 

“Y/N, she’ll be fine. The virus only appears to have heightened symptoms, its duration seems to be the same, she’ll be feeling better in a week or so I think.” The Doctor nodded, but still reached down into a cupboard to grab 2 bottles of medicine – heavy duty Dayquil and Nyquil, “This should be all she needs.” 

You nodded, grateful for Bruce’s expertise and the fact that Natasha would be okay in the end. You turned to the redhead who was now being supported by Wanda as she stood. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed sweetheart.” Wanda murmured comfortingly as you thanked Bruce again before joining the two girls. 

Nat leaned heavily on Wanda and you as you made your way back to her room. She was shivering slightly, despite the meds, and you could feel the heat still radiating from her. As you helped her back to her room, it was obvious that both yourself and Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that she was going to be okay. You knew she was strong, but seeing her vulnerable like this was hard. 

As you walked Natasha back to the room, you helped Wanda get her settled in bed, making sure she had everything she needed before sitting down next to her. Wanda sat on the other side, holding her hand as Natasha drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the ordeal. Whilst you sat there, watching her sleep, you couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over you. You had seen Natasha take down some of the most dangerous foes, but seeing her vulnerable and sick like this made you realize just how much you cared for her. 

As you sat there, watching over your sleeping girlfriend, you couldn't help but notice Wanda begin to sniffle intermittently. It didn’t come as much of a surprise though. Afterall she was the one who’d been in the closest proximity to Natasha for the longest and it was only a matter of time before she caught it too. 

You turned to Wanda; concern etched on your face. "Are you okay baby?" you asked, already knowing the answer at heart. 

Wanda nodded weakly, trying to hold back a cough. "I'll be fine," she assured you gently, "I’m just a little tired. I think worrying about little miss sniffles so much drained me a bit.” She chuckled. 

“Alright baby,” You accepted her answer for now, “Well, how about we both try and sleep for a bit, it’s getting late afterall and I doubt Natty’s going to be awake for a while anyway.” 

The pair of you climbed into bed, there was no need to change – you'd both been in your PJ’s all day anyway.  The two of you fell into a comfortable silence once again, Wanda’s arm coming to comfortably sit over your stomach as you both listened to the sound of Nat’s snores before eventually drifting off to sleep. 

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[mazerunnersecretsanta]

Merry Christmas @nachoupala

Title: Pride of the West

Rating: General Audiences

Wordcount: 3500

Summary: A modern cowboy AU starring brenderesa and thominewt, for nachoupala.

Join Pride of the West magazine on the set of The Homestead, the year’s hottest new cowboy reality series.

Message to giftee: <3 Have a wonderful Christmas, Lena. Happy tmrss!

#tmrss23 #the maze runner #tmr #tmredit #mazerunnersecretsanta2023 #mazerunnersecretsanta #nachoupala #fanfic

[thirdleaflogic]

Fanfiction Commissions Now Available!

Here’s what you can expect from me! If I haven’t covered all my bases, I’ll update this post or future posts as things are brought to my attention. Currently offering 3 commission slots each month.

-Fandoms-

·       Genshin Impact

·       Honkai Star Rail

·       Natsume Yuujinchou

·       Spiderverse (movies only)

·       Promare

·       Fullmetal Alchemist

·       Yuri!! On Ice

-Conditional Fandoms-

·       My Hero Academia (Only AUs or up to Overhaul arc)

·       Marvel Avengers (Tom Holland’s) Spiderman (I can also do Iron Dad and Spider Son, but am minimally familiar with other Avengers)

·       BTS (Absolutely nothing E-rated, and I’m selective about what I’ll write for RPF)

 -Fic Options and Pricing-

·       1000-1500 words - $10

·       1500-2000 words - $15

·       2000-2500 words - $20

·       2500-3000 words - $25

·       3000-3500 words - $30

·       3500-4000 words - $35

·       4000-4500 words - $40

This is the max wordcount I will be offering for original prompts for now.

·       Request an existing WIP to be expedited – Varies depending on average word count and work already finished, probably between $30-$60.

 -Things I Will Not Write-

Under any circumstance-

·       Explicit rape

·       Any romanticized, sexual non/dubious consent

·       If it’s not safe and sane, it’s a no-go

·       Underage

After discussion-

·       Non-explicit non/dubious consent (rape recovery, for example)

·       Kinks

·       Gore/torture

·       Major character death

·       Hurt no comfort

·       Major age gap/difference

·       Smut

 -Process-

If you would like to commission a piece, you can message me directly on Tumblr (messaging is public) or, if that’s not available to you, I can also be contacted at [email protected].

After reading your prompt/request, I may ask to message back and forth about details, modifications, or anything else that could inspire me (and thus get the fic written faster!). I also reserve the right to reject any project if necessary. After accepting, I will take no more than three days to brainstorm and write a rough outline or paragraph or two of the request (for non-WIPs). This will be sent to you, and if you approve it, I will ask for the entire payment upfront, as well as confirm a deadline.

Once the fic is finished, it will be posted to my Ao3, and you’ll have to option to include your username in the “For” section or not.

 -Payment-

Just Ko-fi for now: https://ko-fi.com/winterlogic49067

 Thank you to everyone for supporting me in this venture!

~Winter

#writing commissions #fanfiction #writing #genshin impact #honkai star rail #natsume yuujinchou #spiderverse #promare #fullmetal alchemist #yuri on ice #my hero acedamia #bnha #marvel avengers #bts

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Happy STS!

Since I've noticed the topic frequently recently: how important are word goals to you? Do you set yourself a goal and try to stick to it? Do you just write and whatever the final wordcount is is fine with you? What about chapters? Do you try to stick to a specific chapter length or do you simply write until you feel like you have reached a nice stopping point?

What about reading? Does it bother you if a story has very uneven chapter length?

Happy STS!

They're both very important and super unimportant 🤣

I seem to work best with certain goals in a certain time — writing "at least x per prompt" for those lists, doing a nano, finishing the novel before someone's bd.

*in the distance sounds the intro of under pressure*

Half of the time, I set those goals lower than what I expect to happen, and am not at all sad I write more. More words, more pain, eh, fun. At least until a certain point. There's the issue of printing it — I really don't want GS to become a 500 pages brick 😭 but we will see. Usually, I let the story just go until it doesn't want to anymore.

As for chapters, my preferred length is 3500-4500, but some chapters can go as low as 2000 if needed (though not usually higher than 5000 - then I consider a split). (On Tumblr, I prefer to stick to 2000-3500, because the site is a pain in the ass.)

I do like fun symmetry though. I wanted GS to end on 50, I wanted Part 1 and 2 of Till Death to have 13 chapters each, I was delighted when Nuisance ended up being 8/8 with almost the same word count.

When reading, I don't reaaaaally have a preference, but sudden long chapters when the rest was shorter annoy me. I often read on the tram/bus, and I know I can get one in before my stop, and when it doesn't END, I will walk into a damn street light because I have to finish before I arrive at work.

It's less of an issue with real books (reader remembers position) but a nightmare with Tumblr posts I can't just keep open for the next 6h, or a google doc.

#salad-ask #aria-benedetto #sts ask #fun fact #the first version of GS had only 15 chapters they were so LONG #and then I tried to keep it to 2000-2500 for Tumblr which lead to some super wonky splits #especially at the start of part 2 #once I get to editing that #I will have to find a better rhythm for chapters

[havendance]

Neither Heir nor Spare (The Sole Survivor)

AO3

Fandom: Batman

Featured Character(s): Helena Bertinelli

Wordcount: 3500

Summary:

“If I don’t make it, Gotham’s yours.” That was the last thing Batman told Helena before he'd left. He wasn't supposed to mean it. But when he doesn't come back, someone needs to be the Batman in Gotham. [Batman!Helena in an AU where Bruce, Dick, and Tim die in Batman: Legacy]

Yo, a Batman!Helena fic for my Legacy AU.

Excerpt:

It had been eight days since Helena had seen Batman. Eight days since he’d left her in charge of the city while he went off on a quest to fix the latest plague to hit Gotham. Six days since Oracle had called her up and told her that there was a ship in the harbor that she needed to infiltrate now . Five days since the news had announced that a cure had been found for the resurgence of the Clench and would everyone please come in and have it administered. Zero days since the last time the signal had gone up and she was the only one to answer.

“If I don’t make it, Gotham’s yours.” That had been the last thing he’d told her.

She’d laughed it off at the time, said “Gee, thanks,” as he’d swung off into the night. She’d even meant it a little, in spite of her tone and the fact that Gotham was a God-forsaken, crime-ridden, hotspot of disease and depravity. It was just about trust, that was all it was supposed to be. About the fact that the acknowledgement was more than she’d ever thought she’d get from him, even with the caveat that he’d made it clear on no uncertain terms that the only reason he was asking her was because there was literally nobody else.

He wasn’t supposed to mean it.

But here Helena was, over a week later, crisis averted, and Batman still hadn’t shown up to grunt and tell her she’d done it all wrong instead of thanking her. And sure, maybe he wasn’t finished yet with whatever had needed to be done. Maybe he’d show up with Nightwing and Robin and she’d go back to being the vigilante no one worked with.

Maybe pigs would fly.

On day eight, Helena came to the decision that maybe, just maybe, Batman wasn’t coming back. On day nine, she started a new costume.

Read the rest on AO3!

#helena bertinelli #batman: legacy #au: legacy and inheritance #fanfic #my fic #the cooler gotham antihero #havendance writes #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated

[foxfirefallout]

If Heron is teaching Ell'iandyr, they're gonna do at least some light sparring at some point, soooooooooooooooooo...9? -vesuvian-disaster

Several months and... ~3500 words later, we finally have an answer to this! The prompt, for anyone playing along at home was 'Sparring turns into sex' (or at least something along those lines). We... took some liberties.

Content warnings: physical and magical fights, non-consensual contact

Minors DNI

Under cut for excessive wordcount...

“Yes. Like that.”

Ell’iandyr repeated the gesture, glancing to Heron for another affirmation. “That’s good. Very good. Now, put some energy behind it.”

The makeshift target that had been set up some distance away burst briefly into flames, blue tongues of heat flickering over the surface before extinguishing themselves with a gesture from Heron.

“I’m still not entirely sure that I could set an actual person on fire,” they commented as they considered the faint scorch marks on the target.

Heron looked at them for a moment, and arched an eyebrow. “You don’t think you can set someone on fire, but you have no trouble--”

“That was different! Reflexive, and entirely unintentional. I… just wanted them to go away.*”

“And that’s why we’re doing this now. Setting someone on fire will definitely make them go away, and at significantly less cost to your own personal well-being.”

“I know… but hitting a target is not the same thing as actually… dealing with a person.”

“That’s why we spar. You are getting better. Even if you don’t feel like you are.”

“I know, I know… just…” Ell sighed and shook their head.

“You’d rather not have to learn at all. I know. I can’t be with you all the time, but I can, at least, teach you enough to keep yourself safe.” Heron offered a slight smile as he ghosted a touch over Ell’s cheek. “I teach you to fight because I care. Let’s get to work.”

For the next half hour, Ell resigned themself to a flurry of fast-paced casting. Spells, counter-spells, shields and attacks as well as more mundane means were all fair game with little time to think before reacting. As it would be in a real fight, Heron had reminded them. Heron had also reminded them, repeatedly, that a real fight would not likely last very long, once the first spell was cast. It was cold comfort for the present, however, as they continued to spar and Heron no longer offered suggestions but let Ell work out their best defense for themself.

“That’s very impressive,” Heron said, nodding his approval at Ell, who had fallen onto their back, but maintained a very solid shield spell. “I think we can be done for the time being,” he added, offering a hand to assist Ell back to their feet as the spell dissipated. They weren’t entirely sure how falling on their ass could be viewed as impressive, but they were reasonably sure that Heron wouldn’t try to flatter them over something like this.

“Thank you,” they murmured as they held on to Heron’s hand for a moment, steading themself while Heron ensured their clothes were clean again with a simple gesture. Ell was still holding on as they moved to the edge of the clearing where a small basket lunch waited for them. They had forgotten that Heron had brought that along, but was grateful for his forethought all the same. These practice sessions always left them feeling anxious and unsettled, even though they knew that Heron would not allow them to be hurt in the course of training. A little bruised, perhaps, but nothing that couldn’t be healed easily. What worried them was the notion that they might have to use the skills they were learning at some point when Heron was not around to help.

Ell was quiet as they settled down, watching Heron pour tea and hand over tasty treats that were among their favorites. “Thank you,” they repeated, accepting some spiced bread, magically warmed, and tea freshly brewed.

“You’re welcome, Ell. You really are gaining ground with these practices.”

“I’m feeling a little more confident, yes. But I still hope I never really need to use any of this.”

“So do I, but I feel better knowing that, if you need to, you can.”

For several moments, Ell concentrated on enjoying their tea, staring into the depths and expecting to see nothing save the bottom of the cup. They weren’t here to do a reading, after all, and seldom looked into their own future unless circumstances seemed dire.

Ell’s thoughts, such as they were, were broken when Heron spoke again. "I'm sorry I'm having to push you through this training. You have a gentle nature."

“I know that you’re doing it because you care. And I do appreciate it. I would rather know.”

***

Work for a client had taken Ell into a part of the city they did not often venture, but when the older woman came to their shop, pleading for help to find her grandchild, Ell could hardly refuse. Such work did not always end well, but in this case, they were able to locate the girl before too long, and with the grateful thanks (and generous payment) of the family, they headed towards home.

When the feeling of lightheadedness struck them, Ell realized that stopping for food was going to be necessary, if they wished to make it out of the district in one piece. Fortunately for them, taverns and pubs were plentiful throughout the city and they ducked into the first one they came to, placing an order at the bar for light ale and some food before finding a table in the corner.

All the while, they were scanning the place, all the more wary for how exhausted their last job had left them. This was something else that Heron had warned them about, and something they clearly needed to work on. At least their food was served with no incident and they were able to enjoy it in peace.

As they were readying to leave, it seemed that some of the clientele felt that it was time to make the evening more interesting. And, being a stranger in the tavern, it was clear to them, at least, that Ell was the most interesting thing in the room.

“Hey there, gorgeous! Leaving so soon?”

Ell felt someone grasp at their arm, but they tried shrugging it off as they headed to the door.

No such luck.

“Naw… you’re gonna stay awhile,” another voice slurred in their ear as another hand grasped their arm.

“I don’t think so,” Ell managed in their calmest voice as they reached up to remove one of the hands that held them, electricity gathering in their touch. Fire seemed ill-advised in an atmosphere already rife with alcohol fumes and exceedingly flammable furnishings.

The shock was enough to get one person to let go, but the impeding grasp was replaced before Ell could make much headway to the door.The swore quietly to themselves as the tumult of voices grew louder, some jeering the person who’d let go, others commenting on the ‘liveliness’ of their ‘new friend.’

“Is there a problem here?”

This was a familiar voice, calm and orderly in the face of the tavern turmoil. And it was not a voice that expected to wait for an answer.

Though Ell had sparred with Heron and was familiar with his fighting technique, they still could not quite follow all that happened in the next few moments. For them, it was sufficient that they were no longer being held and that no one seemed to have any more interest in impeding their exit.

Seeming satisfied with the result, Heron offered Ell his hand and together they made their way to the door.

Outside, in the relatively fresh evening air, Ell turned to thank Heron, and ask just how he’d come to be in the area. The words died on their lips as Heron leaned close to murmur, “You let yourself run low… we should see if we can do something about that.”

The purr in Heron’s voice, coupled with the now very welcome arm around their waist meant that Ell was developing a very good idea of just what Heron had in mind. In a few steps they were away from the tavern, and in a few more, Heron had led them down a small, dark alley. In a fluid motion, and with no thought of self-defense, Ell found themself pressed against the cool stone of a building, struggling to catch their breath as Heron trailed kisses over their neck, his teeth grazing over Ell’s skin. His hands supported them, running along their sides as they failed to find any sort of equilibrium.

If it was anyone but Heron, Ell would have been in a panic, frantic to get away, to get home. Now, all they could think of was submitting to Heron’s whim, shivering a little as they became intimately aware of magical hands, along with Heron’s own.

“H-Heron…”

“No one’s going to notice us. I promise.” Indeed, the sounds of the street and tavern seemed more distant to them, a vague susurration, rather than the raucous cries they’d heard only moments before. “I’d hate for you to have to go too far. As depleted as you are.” 

The words were murmured against Ell’s neck before Heron bit at their collarbone, then shifted to claim their lips for a kiss. Though they were left breathless by Heron’s intensity, they returned the gesture and were very aware of the flow of energy through the contact; their own magical reserves beginning to regain what had been lost over the course of their evening’s work.

As the kiss deepened, Ell twined one hand in the soft curls of Heron’s hair. There was no reason to worry about Heron drawing away when it was clear that this was exactly what Heron wanted to be doing-- but it was a way to steady themselves, to find grounding in a sensation that was not the caress and grasp of hands that they were now beginning to lose count of.

When the kiss broke, Ell gasped, breathing heavily, but Heron seemed entirely unphased. He did seem intent on keeping Ell breathless,those various hands tugging at their clothes to caress the skin hidden underneath while he continued to nip along the sensitive line of their jaw. 

They curled their fingers in Heron’s hair, their other arm wrapped around his shoulders. When they felt a very firm, decidedly flesh hand grasp their ass, though, they froze for a moment, tensing their own hold on Heron as the reality of the situation suddenly came into full focus for them.

Above them the night sky, what they could glimpse beyond the rooftops surrounding them, was clear and painfully distant, the full moon only just now high enough to shine down on them. At their back, they were aware of each chisel-mark hewn into the stone, catching at the fabric of their tunic. There would be marks, they thought as they blinked and found that Heron was staring at them intently, his breaths still falling with perfect regularity.

“My place is closer. I’d really rather that you did not go home alone tonight,” he murmured, something like an apology in his voice as he eased back, helping Ell regain their feet and smooth their ruffled clothes. Soon, it was only Heron’s hands, none of the magical ones, giving their hair a stroke and trailing over their neck to see if marks had been left.

Though Ell was not entirely sure what had caused the sudden shift in mood, they managed a nod. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight,” they admitted, nerves still buzzing from the combined adrenaline of getting out of the tavern and being very forcibly kissed by the person who had done that for them.

Heron nodded and, arm once again wrapped around Ell, led the way back out of the alleyway and through the district to his own home. It seemed to Ell that the noises they expected to hear were still distant, coming to them through the fog of whatever spell Heron was keeping up. It also seemed that, as they went, their path was entirely clear and no one they passed even glanced their direction. For this, at least, Ell was grateful-- they were not glowing, but they were feeling far more disheveled than they liked, despite (or perhaps because of) Heron’s best efforts.

The chime over the door sounded as Heron opened it, and Cicero scampered forward to investigate them both. When he discovered that there were no treats in the offing for him, he slipped out the door, presumably to find some trouble of his own to get into.

“Did I… discomfort you?” The door was closed again, and Heron was watching them, his face registering hints of concern.

“I was surprised,” Ell admitted. “You aren’t usually so, um, impulsive.”

“Ah. That.” He quirked a slight smile, reaching up to trail his finger’s over Ell’s jaw and neck, noting that where he’d bitten was no longer red, even if it was clear from the change in Ell’s breath that they remembered exactly what he had been doing. “A brawl can leave me feeling… amorous. It isn’t exactly the same as sparing or practicing, so there was no reason to bring it up.”

“I see. Are you still feeling… ‘amorous?’”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.” Heron’s touch ghosted again over Ell’s neck, feeling their pulse racing again even as they tried to appear outwardly calm. “And here we have the prospect of a much more comfortable venue. If you’re inclined.”

“I’m inclined,” Ell replied, closing the little distance that remained to claim a kiss of their own. They brought their hands up to tangle again in Heron’s hair and this time were entirely unsurprised when they felt Heron’s hands moving over their ribs and hips, pausing to grasp their ass.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Heron murmured when the kiss broke, shifting his weight to gather Ell into his arms.

‘Show-off,’ Ell thought to themself as they were carried up the stairs, retwining their arms around Heron’s shoulders, fingers trailing absently along the back of his neck. 

They were not particularly worried about being too much of a distraction while Heron made his way up the stairs, the door to his room opening obligingly ahead of them, and closing with the same consideration. Ell stared at the door for a long moment, relaxing slightly in Heron’s arms as the realization that they absolutely will not be seen sank in. “Thank you,” they murmured, lips brushing over Heron’s cheek as he stepped over to the bed to set them down.

“You’re welcome,” Heron replied, hand ghosting over their cheek for a moment. Then the gesture expanded as he quirked a smile and snapped his fingers.

“Show-off,” Ell murmured aloud as they lounged on the bed, entirely nude thanks to Heron’s spell, their clothes in a reasonably tidy pile on the floor. “You aren’t going to let me get cold, are you?” they asked as they shifted against the fine linen.

“Of course not,” Heron replied as he turned away to undress by more mundane means.

Ell sat up a little more, thinking to help Heron, only to be arrested by the feel of very warm, decidedly magical hands running over their skin.

“Just stay there… you’ve had a long day,” Heron murmured, not turning around as he started to unfasten his tunic. He worked with purposeful slowness, brass eyes flashing in the mirror to watch Ell’s favorable reactions to the most recent spell… and to being watched.

For a moment, all of Ell’s attention was taken up by the feeling of warmth as the hands wandered over them, watching how tenderly the polished brass figments caressed their arms, legs and chest until one slid over their shoulder, a finger crooking under their chin. With gentle pressure, Ell’s gaze was lifted until they could see themself in the mirror, and see also that, though his back was to them, they had all of Heron’s attention.

“I hope you’re not feeling too chilled,” Heron commented as he finished undoing the last fastenings of his tunic and letting it fall away as he watched Ell’s reflection. They were looking a little flushed, lips parted as, one by one, the hands vanished, turning invisible at Heron’s whim.

Ell was still very much aware that they were present however; the warmth was unmistakable, even if they could no longer track the paths of the hands visually. “I’m… I’m fine. Thank you,” they added, lest Heron somehow think they were not appreciative of the effort.

“Good,” he replied as he cast his shoes aside, then began to peel out of his trousers. All the while, though, Heron watched Ell’s reflection, noting their little gasps as the attention of the now-invisible hands grew more intimate. Heron was very well aware that Ell did not care for being handled roughly, but careful pinches here and there, with the promise of more tender attention to follow did not seem to spoil the mood.

Only when his trousers had joined the rest of the garments on the floor did Heron bother to turn around and approach Ell once more. That Ell liked to watch (and occasionally be watched) was something that had taken some time to discover, and the effect that it had on them was more than obvious now. 

Lounging on the bed, Ell sought out Heron’s gaze, shifting to better pose for their audience of one. They were very sure that Heron knew exactly what each of the hands he had manifested were doing, but played into the touches all the same before extending their own hand in invitation. Being watched was delicious, but what would be even better would be to have Heron close and kissable.

For a moment, it seemed that Heron was considering his options before taking Ell’s hand and brushing a kiss over their knuckles. With the same deliberate care he had shown since arriving home, he knelt on the bed, trailing kisses up Ell’s arm as he did so. After a lingering kiss to the crook of their elbow, he nipped delicately, teeth grazing sensitive skin before working back towards their wrist. Another kiss was pressed to their palm before he took one of their fingers between his lips, sucking carefully while he watched Ell’s eyes flutter closed, lost to the myriad of sensations.

The bed was, in Ell’s considered opinion, significantly more comfortable than the stone wall in the alley had been, a point driven home as Heron’s weight settled more fully over them. They could feel Heron’s hips rocking against them, a very deliberate tease as he released one finger, only to begin nibbling at the next. Surrounded by the scent of citron, underscored with a more subtle muskyness, Ell sank deeper, their free hand splaying across Heron’s hip as they began to move with him.

Heron offered a little hum of pleasure as they built upon the leisurely rhythm. There was no reason to rush in the comfort and safety of home, so he focused his attention instead on the magical hands that continued to caress Ell. It was hardly a challenge to summon a lubricant to those hands, nor to ensure that lubricant was suitably warmed before being applied.

With a soft gasp, Ell opened their eyes, focusing on Heron as much as they could through the haze of sensation. “H-heron?” they breathed, fingers clutching at his hip as he shifted again, positioning himself to sink down on their cock.

“Yes. Like that.”

Hands tangled in their hair, fingernails grazing their chest and always, always, the familiar scent of citron enveloping them. Ell’s gaze was becoming unfocused again as they stared up at their lover, flexing their grip at Heron’s hip as he rode them.

“That’s good. Very good. Now…”

When Ell found release, they could offer no warning and their cry was wordless and ecstatic, but even that was too much, too loud, and as their body shook with the pleasure of the climax they held their arm across their face to hide. In the quiet and relative dark of the room, it was too much to feel, too great a gift of pleasure after everything the day had held for them. And still, there were hands smoothing over their skin. Only two hands; Heron’s hands as he eased away only enough to free them, reverent kisses pressed above their thrumming heart.

“Just stay there, Ell’iandyr,” Heron murmured as he refreshed their skin with a spell and eased the fine linen sheets over them. 

Ell was sure that even if they wanted to go home, they wouldn’t be able to manage on their own. Even opening their eyes was a struggle now, their whole world the feel of Heron’s weight as it shifted beside them, of his touch on their face, or smoothing their hair. There was nowhere else they could imagine feeling safer, or more content, than where they were right now.

“You’ve had a long day.”

 *The incident to which they are referring occurred when Ell was out alone and almost mugged. In that instance, Ell’s form of ‘self defense’ was to essentially yeet the attacker into an entirely different timeline/reality. The amount of magical energy spent in that action, however, left them comatose for several days.

#asks answered #heron phan #my writing

[nostalgia-tblr]

It turns out that the completed 2/3 (estimated) of what I have been thinking of as "chapter 5" is about 3500 words long. Which seems like a lot? Is that a lot? (Current total wordcount is just under 19k btw.)

Also I question WTF I am thinking writing a > 19k version of a story that was originally 500 words. But I can't stop now it took effort to get this far and now I'm fully sunk-costed on this bitch no matter what.

#wip tag #that's the 'murder and knifeplay' chapter but also the 'reading to the small children' chapter. holy tonal whiplash batman! #(batman is not in this story) #the Sylki AU that got longer and wronger #btw don't be fooled into thinking this means chapters 1-4 are finished yet. they are not. #fic related

[the-laridian]

Wordcount 20 June 2022

Hippie AU: 1188. Still at the library.

Survivors prepping: 707.

Survivors short fic that's really just me figuring out the dynamics between a couple of characters: 577

FNV Legion mutineers: 1028, mostly figuring out how this would play out

Also today: MOAR FABRIC CUTTING and then I found a whole other tub of fabric I'd missed and this will never end lol

Total for today: 3500

Total for June: 111,038

Total for 2022: 1,009,102

#laridian writes #wordcount

[thedhananjayaparkhe]

"Reliability Unleashed: The Power of Simple Brilliance"

A. Author Name: Attribute the content to “Corporate Bard©” as the author’s name. Clearly mention the Total Wordcount achieved by expanding the Article. B. Abstract: In a world chasing peak performance, Corporate Bard invites you to a paradigm shift. Dive into the simplicity of reliability and master the art of excelling in ordinary moments. With a word count of 3500, this article unravels the…

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[seraphenes]

writing commission

hi! this is user @seraphenes on twitter and thank you for trusting me to write down your prompt. before we go, i have some important things to announce about the term and conditions.

what kind of commission do i serve?

aku hanya menerima komisi dalam bentuk narasi yang ditulis dalam bahasa indonesia.

komisi akan aku kirim dalam bentuk pdf melalui e-mail. publikasi hasil komisi diperbolehkan jika kamu mau dan hanya dipublikasikan di akun twitter aku.

proses menulisku untuk setiap komisi ada di interval 14 — 28 hari dan bisa selesai lebih cepat atau lebih lama. ketika aku membutuhkan waktu lebih lama, aku akan langsung mengabari.

aku menulis di fandom kpop (enhypen, nct dream, stayc, aespa, zb1) dan animanga (jujutsu kaisen, tokyo revengers, attack on titan). tapi, aku terbuka dengan segala fandom dan pair. jika ternyata aku tidak cukup familiar dengan fandom/pair yang teman-teman ajukan, aku meminta ketersediaan teman-teman untuk menjelaskan lebih lanjut mengenai persona & dinamika mereka.

what do i write?

aku bisa menulis bxb, gxg, bxg, character x oc.

aku percaya diri menulis di genre angst, drama, romance, fluff, domestic, hurt/comfort, college & school life, dan coming of age.

aku bisa menulis nsfw baik secara eksplisit maupun implisit

what don’t i write?

aboverse dan mpreg.

dead dove: do not eat

bdsm

karakter dari universe/semesta penulis lain

“aku suka banget sama karakter segara-raka buatan kamu. boleh gak kira-kira aku komisi tulisan soal mereka?”

boleh banget! komisi mengenai karakter/pair dari semesta buatanku sangat diperbolehkan asalkan sifatnya tidak spoiler & tidak mengubah jalan dari cerita itu sendiri.

“kira-kira ada minimum atau maksimum kata gak ketika aku commiss ke kamu?”

aku menerima komisi dengan minimal kata sebanyak 500 words dan tidak memiliki batas maksimal.

how much the price?

aku mematok tulisanku dengan harga Rp60,- per kata untuk SFW dan Rp75,- per kata untuk NSFW. pembayaran hanya dilakukan melalui akun trakteer yang akan aku sediakan unitnya. akan ada tambahan biaya sebanyak Rp15.000,- untuk ide dari aku.

how to commiss?

komisi hanya bisa dikomunikasikan secara personal melalui DM. jika kalian bermasalah untuk menghubungi aku melalui DM twitter, kalian bisa menghubungi aku melalui instagram. tanyakan kepada aku, apakah aku sedang membuka komisi atau tidak. *ini kalau emang seterbatas ini komunikasi kita, kalian bisa hubungin aku lewat e-mail [email protected] ya!

jika aku sedang menerima, kamu boleh langsung mengirimkan nama pair atau karakter yang kamu ingin aku tuliskan, ide yang akan aku eksekusi, genre, detail tambahan yang bisa membantu aku dalam menulis, beserta wordcount-nya. ps: untuk wordcount, boleh ditulis dengan jumlah yang pasti atau dengan interval seperti 3000 - 3500 kata.

jika aku menyetujui komisi tersebut, kita bisa langsung mendiskusikan pembayarannya. aku menerima pembayaran baik secara LUNAS atau DP 30% DI AWAL. aku menerima diskusi lebih lanjut mengenai ini. feel free untuk selalu mengomunikasikannya dengan aku ya!

jika ternyata aku sedang menulis komisi lain, maka proses penulisan komisi kamu baru akan dimulai setelah komisi lain itu selesai. aku akan mengabari kapan aku mulai menulis dan mengusahakan untuk terus menginformasikan segala proses penulisan. ps: aku memiliki hak untuk menolak mengeksekusi ide kamu

Kamu bisa track komisi aku melalui: https://padlet.com/seraphenes/seraphenes-commission-track-2qqys4x0m6oj759n

for further information, kamu bisa tanyakan aku di DM, ya!

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 10

Whumptober 2020 Day 15: Into The Unknown

Prompt: Possession

TW: guns, fight scenes, canon typical violence

<- Previous Next ->

AO3

~

Only the tips of some of the tallest buildings are visible from where Kasumi stands on Shido’s ship. Akira had warned her about this, but it’s still off-putting. The rest of Tokyo was still normal in the previous two Palaces she’d seen.

Kasumi doesn’t want to think about what that means about the ruler.

“Are you ready to go?” Akec- er Crow asks, tapping a boot against the deck of the ship.

“Sorry!” Kasumi says.

“We need to give Yoshizawa a codename first though.” Mona points out.

Crow stares at her for a second. “Gymnast?”

“We’re not calling her that.” Skull says. “How about… Red?”

“At least my idea was unique to her. That could just as easily describe Panther.”

“But Panther’s already Panther, so.”

“How about Mist?” Joker suggests. “You know, since it’s Kasumi in English?”

“Isn’t that a little tasteless?” Crow asks.

“It’s better than Gymnast ”

“That’s not-”

“I love it!” Kasumi says. “From now on, I’ll be Mist.”

Crow tilts his head at her for a second, but throws his arms up. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”

Joker takes the lead, putting Mist, Crow, and Noir in the front group. Mona and Queen hold back and focus on navigating. 

The Palace is crawling with shadows, and Joker leads them through the halls, until eventually they arrive at a large pair of doors.

“So this is where the Treasure is?” Mist asks.

“Yep, we’ve got three of the five letters of recommendation we need,” Panther says. “We were still going to grab info about the IT company president since he apparently never leaves his room.”

“We can go over the plan once we get to the safe room down the hall.” 

Mist goes ahead a bit and stops at a door. “This one?” she asks.

“Yep.”

Mist pushes the door open.

“Duck!” 

She drops to the ground before the Shadow behind the door can swing at where her head was, and Joker is quick to shoot it.

The guard stumbles backwards, then splits into three shadows.

One that looks like a large white lion breathes fire at her, but Mist manages to cartwheel out of the way, just barely singed. She isn’t so lucky when another shadow, a big snowman king thing swings his staff at her.

“Mist!” 

Queen throws out her hand, and suddenly a golden wall like a vault appears in front of Mist, and though she takes the hit, it doesn’t hurt as much.

“Thanks Queen!” Mist says. She calls Cendrillion to pierce the shadow with  Illusory swords. 

Joker pulls his new gun out, and blasts a ray of ice at the lion-shaped shadow, freezing it solid. In the meantime, Noir and Crow have managed to knock down the other two, and Joker gives the signal to finish them off.

Ths shadows defeated, Mist takes a second to catch her breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Joker pants, “there should definitely have been a safe room there, though.”

“There was.” Mona says. “It’s not there anymore.”

“So Shido’s cognition is shifting,” Queen says.

Skull scratches his head. “So what? Like, the cocky bastard feels like he has more control over things, so there aren’t as many places where the cognition is weaker.”

“Something like that.” Crow says.

“Wow. I didn’t think I could hate him more!” Skull sighs. “On the bright side, new gun’s working well!”

Joker grins and reloads the gun Skull had designed for him. Skull had explained earlier that while realistic guns were useful, since the Metaverse was based on cognition, they could probably get away with using guns that wouldn’t work in reality but were accurate replicas of weapons from movies and video games. Joker’s new freeze ray was a replica of a villain’s weapon from the Cake Knight Rises movies.

“Well there have to still be some safe rooms around, right?” Panther asks.

“Sure, they’ll just be fewer and farther between,” Queen explains. “It’s not ideal, but it’s still manageable. We just need to do our best to conserve energy.”

Joker nods. “We’ll switch up our strategy to rotate people out a bit more frequently.”

“Sounds good.” Noir says. “Anyway, I believe the last time we were here, we were going to try the restaurant to see about getting up to the IT president’s room.”

Everyone nods, and they make their way to the restaurant. Mist is impressed with how efficiently Joker leads them around corners, and the way he seems to know where enemies are. There’s a swell of pride in her chest when she sees Joker backflip away from a shadow to get the drop on it. 

They do eventually find a safe room that is still a safe room, and they rest there for a bit before checking the restaurant.

They get the room number from the restaurant, then head to the side deck of the ship.

“Crow, are you alright?” Mist asks at one point when they’re both in the reserve group.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re just trailing behind the others, I was worried something was wrong.”

Crow shrugs. “I’m just focused on the mission.”

“Sure but even fights, the others compliment each other and stuff but you’re mostly quiet.”

“Why would I? I’m not part of the team, or anything.”

“You’re not?” Mist asks, tilting her head a bit.

“No, I am definitely not.”

“Oh,” Mist says, trying to conceal her smile.

“That makes you happy?”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” Mist says quickly. “I guess it just makes me feel better that I’m not the only outsider on the team.”

“I wouldn't really call you an outsider. They definitely consider you an equal part of their team.”

“But not you?”

“No.”

“Well,” Mist says, “even if they would consider me part of the team, I think I’ll stay back here with you. I don’t want you to be lonely after all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nope,” Mist says, grinning. “Still going to stick around.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew everything about me,” Crow says in a threatening tone.

Mist hums. “I think I would. I can tell, senpai. You may be a more… intense kind of person than I was expecting, but you care deep down.”

Crow stops for a second, then runs to catch up with Mist. “Anyway, while it’s just the two of us, I meant to ask you something earlier. Why does Joker keep calling you ‘Kasumi’?”

“Senpai! Codenames. ”

“Huh?”

“You’re supposed to use my codename, not my real name,” Mist admonishes.

“But-”

“Hey, hurry up, we’re here!” Skull shouts.

“Sorry,” Mist replies, hopping across balconies to join the others.

“Not a problem,” Joker says. “So this seems like the president’s room, we just have to figure out how to get the letter of recommendation out of him.”

“Ask nicely?” Crow says, holding up his gun pointedly.

Queen shakes her head. “We want to avoid a fight as much as possible, if we can. We still need to get the letter from the Cleaner after all.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a fight, I assure you.”

“How did you get the other letters?” Mist asks.

“Well we basically just asked for most of them. In some cases we had to lie to convince them we deserved it, but yeah.” Skull says.

“So we should just go in and ask?” 

“That might not be a good idea,” Mona says, frowning. “With the way Shido’s cognition has been shifting recently, the shadows might recognize you as the Phantom Thieves right away, even if you changed.”

“Well, I’m not wanted. I could ask,” Mist offers.

“Are you sure?” Panther asks.

“Sure! Don’t worry, I’ve got this!”

Mist climbs into the IT president’s room. “Hello, sir!” she says cheerily.

The president startles backwards. “Huh? Who are you?”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m looking to get a letter of introduction to Mr. Shido,” Mist says, “and I’m just such a big fan of your company and your work, that I had to ask you!”

The president looks skeptical, and Mist continues.

“I know you’re a very private person, but since you’re Mr. Shido’s favorite co-conspirator, I thought I just had to get his letter over anyone else’s!”

“Well, Captain Shido does appreciate my genius,” the president says after a moment.” You know I created the fake Mejed for him and manipulated the results of the Phantom Thieves’ polls? And I erased all this Cognitive Psience research, clean off the net!

“Wow! That’s so astounding!” Mist says. “No wonder Mr. Shido speaks so highly of you! So can I have a letter?”

“Well, you’ve convinced me.” The IT president points to the desk, and one of the women in the room with him grabs a pen and paper off of it. “So tell me, are you a fan of my companies’ products?”

“Yes, sir! Huge fan!”

“Then you’ve got the latest model phone?”

“Uh, well no. I mean, my dad won’t let me get a new one.”

“So you have last year’s?”

“Can you just give me the letter.”

The president rips the letter from the note pad and holds it back. “Show me your phone.”

Reluctantly, Mist pulls out her phone. 

The IT president nearly gags at the sight of it. “That thing is ancient. You’re no fan of my company!”

“Are you serious?” Mist groans. “Uggh, fine.” She lunges forward and grabs the letter out of the IT president’s hands.

“You little- I’ll kill you!” the president roars before he and the women with him transform into shadows.

“You could have just given me the letter!” Mist shouts, dodging his attacks. “Guys, I could use some help!”

The other Phantom Thieves burst into the room. Panther is the first to act, wrapping her whip around one of the shadows beside the IT president and sending a jolt of electricity through it, shocking the shadow. Joker shoots it, causing it to drop to the ground.

The IT president meanwhile is still focused on Mist, who blocks one of his attacks with Cendrillion. Skull takes the opportunity to use the bed as a spring board, jumping on the shadow and slamming his pipe down on its head.

“Gah!” the shadow president cries, but Crow doesn’t give him much time to react, rushing forward and having Loki unleash a brutal barrage of attacks on it.

Noir uses psykokinesis to take down the other shadow, knocking all three of them down. 

At Joker’s cue, the Phantom Thieves attack simultaneously.

The shadows revert to their more humanoid forms.

“Anything you want to tell us?” Mona demands.

“N-no! I don’t know anything about the mental shutdowns, I just or anything, I just extracted, deleted, and encrypted the research! I promise.” 

“So you’re useless to us, then,” Crow says, pointing his gun at the IT president’s head.

“Crow, no!” Mist says, grabbing his arm.

Crow scoffs. “Fine, let’s go.”

Once everyone is back on the balcony, Mist turns to the others. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get the letter.”

“Oh you were fine,” Panther says, patting Mist on the shoulder. “That went about as well as literally every other time we tried to get a letter.”

“But you said to avoid a fight.”

“And you did the best you could!” Queen says. “You were great, believe me.”

Mist feels a weight leave her shoulders. “Thank you! I’m happy to help!”

“Hell yeah! So that’s four letters down, one to go,” Skull says. “We just need to get something from that Cleaner guy next, right?”

“We’ve checked all over the ship though, where could he be?” Mona asks.

“The engine?” Joker suggests.

Panther frowns. “Have we seen an engine, though?”

“Skull noticed smoke before,” Queen points out.

“So let’s find a way into the engine room.”

After a bit of searching, Joker eventually spots a grate with smoke coming out of it. “I think this is our way in,” he says.

They bust the grate open, and crawl through the vents. Sure enough, it empties out into the engine room, and they can see the Cleaner.

“There he is!” Mona whispers.

“Can we do this my way?” Crow asks.

“I don’t know,” Noir says. 

“He’s Yakuza, we’re not going to be able to just ask him nicely,” Crow bites back.

“I think Crow’s right, Noir,” Joker says. “We might just have to fight through this one.”

Crow grins. “Thank you!”

“Hey, you!” Crow calls out as soon as they’re out of the vents.

The Cleaner turns around and groans when he sees them. “What?” 

“We need a letter of introduction to see Shido.”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” he says, shrugging. “I’m fresh out.”

Crow summons Loki. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Crow, look out!” Mona calls, suddenly.

Crow turns around just inside to avoid the bullet that ricochets off the metal walls of the engine room.

“Don’t worry, I can handle these ones,” the cognitive Goro Akechi says, grinning maniacally.

“Sounds great,” the Cleaner replies, walking off.

“Oh no you don’t!” Skull shouts, chasing after him, but Cognitive Akechi snaps his fingers and suddenly a group of Shadows appear in Skull’s path, knocking him back.

“Skull!” Panther shouts, running to his side.

“I’m fine,” Skull mutters as he sits up

“Now, I can finally get rid of you all at once!” Cognitive Akechi says. “Our glorious captain will be so happy.”

“I’m going to enjoy wiping that smug look off of your face,” Crow says. He pulls out his sword and charges towards Cognitive Akechi, but Cognitive Akechi dodges.

A shadow leaps towards Crow, but Mist manages to knock it away with a well-timed strike from Cendrillion. “Careful, Crow!”

Crow grits his teeth. “I’m fine!”

“Skull, Noir, Panther! Handle the small fry,” Joker says. “The rest of us need to focus on the Cognitive Akechi!

Everyone except Crow, who’s mainly focused on attacking his double, gives their affirmations.

Queen summons Anat and boosts everyone’s defense, while Mona attacks Cognitive Akechi aside. Unfortunately, Cognitive Akechi blasts Crow away with an Almighty attack and kicks Mona across the room like he’s a soccer ball.

“Loki!” Crow calls, “Laevateinn!” The Persona appears in a burst of energy and rushes at Cognitive Akechi, causing him to stumble backwards.

Meanwhile, Noir summons Astarte to unload  hail of bullets on the shadows while Panther heals Skull up. Skull’s quick to get back on his feet and has Seiten Taisei sends ripples of electricity through the metal floor to hit all of the shadows.

While Cognitive Akechi is focused on Crow and Loki, Mist catches him off guard with a Kougaon. The bless attack calls him to stumble back, dazed.

“He’s weak to bless!” Queen calls out.

Crow grins. “Perfect.” With a flick of his wrist, Loki disappears and Robin Hood appears in its place. Joker follows his cue and switches to Dominion, and they follow up with two bless attacks of their own.

The cognition drops to one knee, panting. Crow strides over to him, and points a gun at his doppleganger’s head. “Well, this has been fun, but I’ve had enough of you.”

“Oh, I assure you, the fun isn’t over,” Cognitive Akechi says. He snaps his fingers again, and Crow doesn’t have time to attack before another shadow rushes him.

Joker quickly uses his grappling hook to pull the shadow off of Crow, but in that time, another reinforcement has healed Cognitive Akechi up.

Crow summons Robin Hood and cast Kougaon again, but instead of knocking him down, the attack is reflected back in Crow’s direction.

“Shit,”

“I got ya!” Mona says, healing Crow.

Crow looks around and sees the others aren’t fairing much better. The new reinforcements are overwhelming them, to the point that Noir has been knocked out and Queen has to help Panther and Skull fend them off.

“Aw, Akechi, are you worried about your friends?” Cognitive Akechi asks. “Don’t worry, you really should be more worried about yourself.”

Suddenly, a curse attacks rams into Akechi’s side, sending him across the room. When he looks up, he expects to see a shadow, but instead it’s Joker stalking towards him with a blank expression.

“Joker-senpai, what are you doing?” Mist asks.

“He’s been brainwashed,” Mona explains.

“That’s just great .” Crow spits out. Joker charges towards him, knife drawn, but Crow manages to parry with his sword. 

“Mona-senpai, what do we do?” Mist asks.

“We have to find the shadow that’s brainwashing Joker and defeat it.”

“Alright! Hold on Crow, don’t hurt him too much,” Mist shouts as she attacks the shadow Joker had been fighting.

“No guarantees,” Crow mutters under his breath.

Mist and Mona manage to defeat the shadow Joker had been fighting, but it doesn’t help.

“Mona, which one brainwashed him?” Mist asks.

“I don’t know!” Mona says. There are about five shadows left, and they have no way of knowing which one brainwashed Joker.

Crow drops down and sweeps Joker’s legs. While Joker’s down, Crow tries to charge at his cognitive double again.

Unfortunately, he feels something wrap around his leg, and Crow’s legs are pulled out from under him by Joker’s grappling hook. He tries to get up quickly, but just ends up staring down the barrel of Joker’s gun.

“This has been fun, hasn’t it?” Cognitive Akechi says.

“Joker! Don’t do it!” Mist calls, but Joker doesn’t react. She tries to run over to sop him, but one of the other shadows stands in her path.

“Damn it!” Mona says, helping Mist. “Joker, you have to snap out of it!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Cognitive Akechi says, watching as all the other Thieves are occupied with the shadows. “Now then, I think it’s finally time to take out the trash. Any final words.”

“Fuck you.”

Cognitive Akechi rolls his eyes, and motions for Joker to shoot. 

Joker pulls the trigger, and a bang goes off.

But.

Instead of the feeling of a bullet entering his skull, a shimmering barrier appears in front of Crow that seems to have absorbed the attack. 

Before anyone can really attack, a large chunk of ice flies right past Cognitive Akechi, hitting and freezing another shadow instead.

“Fox, you idiot, you missed! ” Crow shouts as Fox rushes into the engine room.

“I wasn’t aiming for him, Crow,” Fox shouts as he shatters the shadow. Suddenly, Joker clutches his head and stumbles backwards. “And that’s not the polite way to thank someone for saving your life.”

“Fox?” Joker says, still shaking his head. “God, I hate being brainwashed. How’d you get here?”

“I saw you guys were in trouble so we got here as fast as we could!” Joker jumps at the sound of Oracle’s voice. “F- Oracle ! Where’d you come from?”

“We can explain later,” Oracle says, “for now, you might want to get rid of that other shadow that can brainwash people.”

“A-Alright,” Joker says, before summoning Arsene and attacking the shadow Oracle pointed out.

Fox helps Mona and Mist, allowing Mona to revive Noir. Queen hits the two remaining shadows with a massive nuclear attack, destroying them

Meanwhile, Crow goes back to focusing on his double. 

“Noir, while he’s distracted, use psykokinesis on the cognition!” Oracle says as soon as she’s up.

“When did-”

“We’ll explain later!” Oracle snaps, “just do it!” 

Haru does, and the blast causes Cognitive Akechi to stumble backwards, allowing Crow to get a good hit on him.

“He’s switched resistances again!” Oracle says. “Ok, before he gets the chance to call for more reinforcements... uh… new girl! Hit the cognition with another bless attack.”

“Oh, me?” Mist asks. “Ok! Cendrillion!”

“Now we need fire, Panther!” Oracle calls out!

“Hecate!”

“Don’t let up! Hit him Skull!”

“Seiten Taisei!”

With each hit, Cognitive Akechi looks worse and worse for wear. He’s clutching his side and panting.

“He’s on his last legs! We just need to hit him with a curse attack.”

Crow locks eyes with Joker. “Ready?”

Joker smirks. “More than ever.”

“Loki!”

“Arsene!”

“Eigaon,” the shout simultaneously. The two personas work in tandem, unleashing a curse attack that pushes Cognitive Akechi straight into the wall. The cognition tries to get up, but ultimately dissolves.

“Finally.” Crow sighs.

Suddenly, Skull shouts. “What the hell?”

Crow and Joker quickly pull their weapons to deal with the new threat.

“What’s wrong?” Joker asks.

“Oracle’s a ghost!” To prove his point, Skull sticks his hand through Oracle’s head.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m broadcasting into the Metaverse from outside Tokyo,” Oracle says.

“You can do that?” Queen gasps.

“With a lot of help. I met these guys called the shadow operatives, and a couple of them have the same powers as me so we can combine them to increase the range of my scanning.”

“Woah, really?” Panther asks.

“Yeah. Oh also, one of the people helping me is Rise Kujikawa, by the way.”

Panther’s eyes widen. “Ok now you’re messing with me!”

“No she’s legit here! Say hi Rise!”

Futaba’s form flickers and Rise Kujikawa stands in front of them. “Hello!”

“Oh my gosh it’s Risette.” Mist gasps.

“This is the coolest thing to have happened to me, ever.” Skull says. “Can I get an autograph?”

“I can give one to Futaba-chan for you!” Risette says. Then her form shifts again, and Futaba is back.

“Thank you! That’s the reaction I was looking for! Inari wasn’t impressed at all!”

“I told you that I was happy for you.” Fox says, walking towards the others with a slight limp.

“This is the coolest thing ever, I was expecting something a bit more excited!”

“Alright,” Queen says before the bickering can get out of hand. “We need to return to the real world soon, we’re all pretty banged up.”

“We still need to get that last letter of recommendation!” Crow says.

“None of us can handle another fight,” Mona says. “And you were the one that said we probably weren’t going to get a letter from the Cleaner by asking nicely!”

“We don’t have time to waste though!”

“Um if all we need is the Cleaner’s letter,” Fox says, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve got that one.”

The other Thieves stare at him. 

“How?” Joker asks.

Fox and Oracle share a look.

“There’s a lot you need to catch up on,” Oracle says. “Lemme find you guys a safe room nearby, then Fox can tell you the whole story.”

#alto writes #whumptober2020 #which i'm still writing in december because I am very slow and very impulsive #on the run au #persona 5 #p5r spoilers #kinda sorta but not really? like it makes more sense if you've already played the third semester but you know just to be safe #wordcount: 3500-4000 #brainwashing tw #this is me stretching the prompt but my house my rules :p #yes this might be the most self-indulgent chapter I've written so far #no.15

[eloarei]

Damsel and Company in Distress (aka “DamselCo.”)

Chapter “it’s the beginning of the story so I guess we’ll call it One”  (So, everybody’s got that one original fic, right? The one that when someone says, “your original story” that’s the one they think of? This is mine. I originally started writing it when I was sixteen. Which was 12 years ago, god help me. This past November, as part of NaNoWriMo, I started rewriting it. (Let’s be honest: “again”.)  Someone please humor me and read this.)  IT STARTS HERE >.  It was said that the northern kingdoms were, at one point, a singular country, ruled by a single monarch. Now, people both in the north and elsewhere had differing opinions on whether the dissolution was a good or a bad thing, but there was an undeniable fact: turning one kingdom into upwards of a hundred increased the number of princesses almost exponentially. This was good news for the knights of the region, who suddenly had a lot more to do with their lives, because those princesses sure were not going to rescue themselves. There were, honestly, more princesses than anyone knew what to do with. The sudden increase in knightly activity resulted in the creation of an agency to keep track of them and the princesses they rescued, and while it wasn't strictly necessary to go through those official channels, the simple fact of the matter was that nobody would take a knight seriously if he didn't, or if the agency rated him poorly. They also wouldn't take him very seriously if he was not, in fact, a 'him', but this did not become an issue until many decades after the agency's formation, and even then, most everybody ignored the issue anyway. After all, the mere concept of a female knight was silly and of little consequence. XxX It was a dark and stormy mid-afternoon. There really wasn't any reason for it to be, but that was weather for you. It was supposed to have been a decent day, but the immediate area was void of any good weathermancers; 'supposed to have been' was hardly more than a guess from one of the local farmers. Anyway, it wasn't quite raining yet, just windy with a lot of dark clouds blowing about. So, the knight that was struggling up the hill was luckily not having to slog through too much mud, which was good, because the wind was proving enough of a challenge, given how steep the hill was. Before terribly long (and after only a few times being whipped across the face by thorny branches), the knight reached the apex of the hill, upon which stood quite a tall stone tower. (That wasn't a surprise or anything, no. It was, actually, exactly the reason the knight had been climbing the hill in the first place.) Also luckily, the massive wooden door into the tower was not locked or barred, although it was awfully heavy. The bottom level of the tower was entirely empty, as long as you didn't count piles of bones and rotting corpses as anything. The knight did not, since skeletons were fairly irrelevant when considering any of the few reasons one would bother to come to a tower like this, those reasons being treasure and princesses. (If one was a necromancer, now, that would be a different story. However, this knight was not a necromancer, nor was any other knight in the history of the agency (at least so far as the agency knew; the exception would be a story for another time, if, indeed, there was an exception).)   A few boxes and pieces of furniture littered the second floor, but they were all picked clean of any useful, interesting, or otherwise worthy items. And this was alright, anyway, since really the knight was not here to pilfer some noble's second-best miscellany. The third floor was essentially the exact same as the second, in the ways that counted. On the fourth floor, there was a dragon.

Now, the knight was rather good at swordfighting, but dragons are terrifying. Certainly some people liked them, but those people were at least a little crazy. Fighting a dragon was also a little crazy, so the knight did sort of a bare-bones version of a duel, which mostly involved barely dodging a blast of fire-breath and a couple of swipes of the dragon's inordinately sharp claws, and slashing at the dragon's tail just enough to make it screech in pain and leave off the chase, allowing the knight to climb to the final floor (attic notwithstanding). The fifth and final floor held the prize. At least, it was supposed to, based on everything the knight knew about princess towers. As was implied by the name, they typically held princesses. This one, being home to a dragon as well, was sure to hold quite the princess. The princess was not waiting at the top of the stairs for her valiant rescuer, so her valiant rescuer had to do a little searching before getting properly to the rescue part. The ornate bed was around the corner, which seemed a likely place for the princess to be hiding. Or, well, not hiding. Taking a nap, maybe; it was a dark and stormy mid-afternoon, after all. So the knight approached the pretty drapery-hung four-poster, took hold of the edge of the curtain, and tore it (gently) open. What was presented was pretty clearly not what either party had anticipated. “Are you kidding me?” the knight whined, glaring down at what ought to have been a princess, but which definitely had an Adam's apple. Aside from that, the person also had a slightly squarer jaw than was usual for a princess, somewhat less manicured eyebrows, and a little bit more sideburn. It was only a hint, but a hint of sideburn was still too much for a princess, as they were typically girls. The knight wasn't the only one in the room who had an issue with what they saw. “I can't believe this,” said the person formerly assumed to be a princess. He rose up on his elbows, out of the traditional sleeping-princess pose, and glared right back at the knight, who was clearly (by his estimation) an impostor. After all, knights were tall and had swords and wore armor and were male. The person standing before him was not male; ergo, this person was not a knight. “What the hell is a boy doing in a princess tower?!” the knight asked, seemingly rhetorically before asking again in a more direct and less rhetorical fashion. “What are you doing in a princess tower?!” The boy (call him a prince) scoffed. “What am I doing? What are you doing? I was waiting for a knight to rescue me, a real knight! Do you know how long I've been waiting?! It's been... I don't even know how long, it's been so long!” He sat up more fully, pulling himself into a cross-legged position on the mattress. Then he sighed. The knight huffed in frustration and crossed her arms. “I am a real knight! You're the liar in this situation. And of the two of us, I think I'm the more inconvenienced right now. Nobody is ever going to take me seriously if I come back with a boy and try to claim he's a princess.” “I never said I was a princess,” the prince said. “No, but it's kind of implied. Towers like this only hold three things: treasure, princesses, and the dragons that guard them, and there wasn't a hint of treasure in the whole rest of the tower.” “Yeah, well, how do you--” the prince began, before trailing off with a concerned look on his face. He narrowed his eyes at the knight, looking very young and confused and, admittedly, not all that un-princesslike. “The dragon, she was here earlier. How did you get past her?” “I fought it, of course,” the knight said, standing taller and putting her hands on her hips. “What sort of coward do you take me for?” The prince didn't bother to give an answer. Instead, he hopped up out of the bed and ran to the stairwell, his bare feet slapping the hard stone floor, the long end of his tabard robe trailing behind him. The knight followed after him, rounding the corner of the stairwell just in time to see him run up to the dragon, which was huddled up in a pitiful little (well, relatively speaking) lump on the opposite side of the room, licking its tail wound. “Oh, Teresa,” the prince cooed. “You poor thing, are you alright? God, you're bleeding. Here, here, let me--” He crouched down over the dragon's tail and hovered his hands above the gash. “How did it go?” he asked himself, before hurriedly murmuring an incantation of some sort. A white light flared in the wound for a moment, and then he stopped, apparently satisfied. “I think you'll be fine now. But don't let yourself get hurt anymore by these terrible knights. Just eat them next time, okay?” “Sorry I didn't give it a chance,” the knight called sarcastically. The prince stood and came over to where the knight still stood in the doorway. “'She',” he said. “My dragon is a girl. You're not very good with genders, are you?” “You're one to talk,” the knight said, stepping back into the safety of the narrow stairwell, in case the dragon decided it wanted to come after her again. Or, fine, unless the dragon decided she wanted to come after her again. She was just slightly too big. “I told you, I never claimed to be a princess or a girl,” the prince said, glaring up at the knight, and now she could see that he was fairly short for a guy. Actually, she realized, he was probably pretty young. “How old are you, anyway?” she asked. “Seventeen,” he said, looking a little defiant. “Why? Is that gonna affect whether or not you decide to rescue me?” The knight shook her head, messy reddish hair flying around her face. “No,” she said. “I'll rescue you anyway. I mean, it's not gonna count, but I'll still do it. Unless you wanna stay here?” The prince scowled. “Not really,” he said, a cross between adamant and resigned. “I don't think my family will be too pleased I was rescued by some girl, but it's better than hanging around here any longer.” Nodding, the knight said, “Fine then. Get your stuff and let's go.” She followed the prince back upstairs, but not before casting a nervous glance back over her shoulder at the dragon. (It was now sleeping quite peacefully. She. She was now sleeping quite peacefully.) The prince looked around for a minute, seeming a bit lost, and then dashed to what must have been a closet. He emerged a minute later wearing some small flat shoes and a sleeveless overcoat on top of his tabard robe. “Um, alright,” he said. “You're not taking anything else with you?” the knight asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Um, no? Unless you want something from here? I mean, it's all pretty good stuff, I guess.” “Thanks, but I'll pass.” Although the blankets and tapestries and books all looked like they might be worth something, or even just nice to have as a sort of trophy, she hadn't come prepared to take treasures with her, and the idea of carrying a bundled-up rug under her arm all the way home just wasn't appealing. They stopped to check on the dragon again on their way out (well, the prince did; the knight stayed out of striking distance, in case it snapped out of the apparent trance the prince's presence put it in. ...Put her in). “Are you gonna be okay by yourself for a while, Teresa?” he asked. The dragon nudged her snout up into his outstretched hand in a way that was really cute and almost made the knight a little sick and also made her miss her own dog, who was probably at home, chasing mom's turkeys in her absence. Satisfied that the dragon was able to fend for itself, the prince led the way down to the first floor and out into the day... where the stormy winds had subsided and left the sky a pale wisp-strewn late-afternoon blue. He took a deep breath and turned to face the knight, his arms swinging slightly at his sides and a cheerful smile on his face. Apparently all he'd needed was a little fresh air to set his mood to rights. “So, where are we headed?” he asked. “I've never been rescued before, so pretty much all I know is about riding off into the sunset. I've got no clue what comes after that.” The knight smirked. “Well, first of all, we're going south-east, not west, so we'll have the sun at our backs, mostly. Second of all, I, um, didn't bring a horse, so we won't be doing any riding at all. I hope you like hiking!” “Oh,” the prince said, deflating a little. “Okay then. Lead the way, I guess, Miss...?” “Addisson,” the knight said. “Addisson Marianne Lillith MacMurray. And seriously, don't call me 'miss'.” “God, that's a long name,” the prince said, looking a little horrified. “Is it?” Addisson asked. “What's yours then?” “Ellery,” the prince replied shortly. “Ellery...?” Addisson waited, assuming there would be a few more names to follow the first. “...Mmm... yeah,” Ellery said. “It's Ellery.” He nodded. Addisson laughed, a little disbelieving. “Just Ellery, huh? What kingdom are you from where they don't give people middle and last names?” “The South,” Ellery said with a shrug. “Ahh,” Addisson said, as if that explained it, when, in reality, she knew next to nothing about the South except that it was big and sandy and they made nice fabric. Oh, and that it was south of here. “Well then, uh, Prince Ellery. Let's get going. It's a bit of a walk to the next town and I-- wait, you are a prince, right? I just sort of assumed.” “I'm a prince,” Ellery confirmed, following as Addisson led the way down the hill at just barely too brisk of a pace to keep up with easily. (She was wearing boots, after all, and had experience with climbing and un-climbing hills. He, on the other hand, was wearing flats and had perhaps never climbed anything more treacherous than the occasional sand dune. Sand dunes could be dangerous, yes, but they didn't have big rocks and roots to trip over, and if you fell then you'd usually slide down, instead of tumbling down to break your crown on a tree stump.) “So, in the South, do they usually put princes in towers?” Addisson asked from some yards ahead of him. “Because up here, it's typically just princesses.” “Oh, um, no,” Ellery said. He was a little distracted, trying not to break his neck, but he tried to give as coherent an answer as he could. “I'm probably the first. You see, I have an older sister, but by the time she was old enough to go in a tower, she was already a clear favorite to be the next leader, so everyone thought it would be a waste. Besides, she had a fiance already. Actually, they'll probably be getting married any day now.” Addisson waited at the foot of the hill for Ellery to catch up, and then set off again at her practiced pace. “Okay, but why put you in the tower?” she called over her shoulder. “Why not just... sell it or something?” “It's customary for a monarchy to put one of their heirs up for rescue, isn't it? I think it's-- ahh, damn.” He stopped for a minute as his shoe came loose. Addisson waited for him some feet away, though she looked a little impatient. As soon as he got the flat jammed back on his foot, he hopped along after her and picked up his explanation. “I think it's written down in one of our treatise or something, that all participating countries had to do it. It's supposed to foster cooperation and partnership between families, or something like that.” “Really,” Addisson said, as if she wasn't actually all that interested or sure Ellery knew what he was talking about. “I'm pretty sure there are ruling families around here who don't bother, so you guys probably could have gotten away without doing it.” “Oh,” Ellery said, which effectively ended their conversation for the next hour or so. It was getting to be dark by the time Addisson decided Ellery couldn't go much farther, so they decided to settle for the night. “What? No, I can keep going,” Ellery insisted, at which Addisson scoffed. “Can you, now? Because it's been daylight out so far, and you've already lost your shoes more times than I've bothered to count. If you did that in the dark, we'd never find them.” She pointed at the knees of his calf-length pants, which had been torn up from the number of times he'd stumbled. “And you're beginning to look like a beggar. I think we ought to stop for the night.” Reluctantly, Ellery agreed. (Not that he had much of a choice in the matter. She was his guide, and he'd probably get himself eaten by wolves if he tried to wander off without her. ...Which necessarily made him feel very trusting of her, all of a sudden.) So they found a dry dirt clearing between a cluster of trees, and Addisson set about making a campfire, while Ellery mostly watched. She dug around in her pack and produced a little bag of food-strips of some sort, along with a thin, rolled-up blanket, which she handed to Ellery. “Sorry, all I've got for dinner is this turkey jerky,” she said, handing him a few pieces as they sat down around the fire. “It's pretty fresh though. My mom made it right before I left home, which was... I guess about a week or two ago.” “A week or two is fresh?” Ellery asked, looking dubiously at the dried bark-like food he was holding. “Well yeah,” Addisson said. “For jerky. This stuff can last for months.” Ellery considered the stuff, then took a bite out of it-- or tried to. It was really quite tough, though it had a savory flavor, once he got to chewing it. “Huh. It's not so bad,” he mentioned. It wasn't a familiar flavor, though, and it left him wondering what kind of strange Northern plant this 'turkey' could possibly be. He guessed it might be a type of mushroom, but he didn't bother to ask. After eating, Ellery laid down by the fire, trying to get a good amount of blanket both beneath him and covering him. It wasn't easy, and he didn't sleep especially well. He did fall asleep eventually, though, as he was shaken awake by Addisson once the sun had begun to peek through the trees. He shivered and tried to pull the blanket closer around him. “Cold...” he complained, watching his breath turn a little white in the chilly morning air. “What, like it was much warmer in your tower?” Addisson asked, looking down at him with her arms crossed. “I don't recall any central heating pipes.” “Dragon's breath kept it warm,” Ellery explained shortly, huddling further under the thin blanket, trying to adjust to the cool air before subjecting himself to it fully. Addisson responded with a 'meh' and left him for a few minutes while she cleaned up the campsite. “Alright, prince,” she said, nudging him with the toe of her boot after she felt he'd had long enough. “Let's get going. The town's just a few hours from here, and if we get there before midday we might be able to get some warm food before handling our business. What say you?” Ellery peeked out from under the blanket, looking vaguely miserable but also a little excited by the prospect of warm anything. “I say 'will you let me carry the blanket'?” With a short huff of amusement and a wry smile, Addisson nodded. “It's all yours,” she said, before she reached down and hauled him up by the forearm. “Now, onward. I'm tired of sleeping in trees.” “You slept in a tree?” Ellery asked, cocking his head to the side in a birdlike way as he trotted up beside her. They spent the next few hours discussing basic survival strategies, and by the time they arrived at the town, Ellery felt like he'd learned more in the past day than in the past year about living in the North. It was a strange and cold place, but the more he saw and heard of it, the more it grew on him. Now the town they came upon was hardly more than a dirty trading post, situated at a crossroads of two popular routes. Seven or eight wooden buildings lined the churned-mud path that served as the town center, and a handful more were stacked behind them. “Well, this place is... rustic,” Ellery commented, following Addisson to the largest of the buildings. “It's damn near heaven, is what it is,” she responded, laughing. “You haven't been traveling long enough until a place like this nearly sets your heart on fire.” Ellery choked on a laugh. “You take this knight thing pretty seriously, don't you.” She didn't respond, but Ellery got the feeling she wasn't offended. She held the door for him when they entered her chosen building. TBC whenever I get around to it. (Although I could dredge up the old version for you, if you wanted; that’s like 20k and is only, oh, 8 years old.) 

#elo fics #elo talks #Damselco #wordcount 3500 #original fiction WIP #lol am I ever going to actually sit down and write this whole story? #one day maybe

[rudjedet]

The guy whose brainchild the anthology is said the new maximum wordcount is ~4500 because people submitted a lot of stories under 2500, which gives me SO MUCH breathing space to tell this story it’s unreal. I’m still going to keep it at around 3500 max since I did learn that (in this case, at least), forcing myself into a small limit allowed me to find and write the heart of the story. The worldbuilding I had prior to this was still great, and it’s still at its core the same story, but it’s far more to the point now. So. You know. I hate word limits but sometimes they’re at least good for something.

[emberravenwrites]

Hi! @my-writblr here! What's your current WIP progress and who is your fav character at the moment? (I know it's really hard to choose when you have so many favs, it's like choosing a fav child) But! Who is your favorite to write?

hi! thanks for the ask!

for the first question, i wasn't sure if you meant, like, status or wordcount, so I'll just throw both down (for the three WIPs I've already posted about here).

For Legacy, the entire series has a full plot outline (vague in places), and is currently just under 8000 words, which should be nearly 1/4 of the first book.

For Call, the whole series has a pretty loose outline, and about 3500 words, which is nearly 1/3 of the way through the first section of the first book.

For Hidden War, I've got some general ideas/notes for the whole thing but only about 200 words written, which is part-way through the 'introduction' section.

My current fave character to write is probably Lujayn, the mc from Legacy. They have quite a dark sense of humour, so even when things are getting pretty bad in the story their internal monologue can still be really funny. idk, there's more, i'm just not sure how to express it. i guess they just have some stunning vibes, in both the metaphorical sense and the knocking you over the back of the head sense lmao.

anyway, sorry I took so long to answer, i was busy with coursework for the first half of the week and packing to come home from uni for xmas for the second half 😅

#ask #wip #legacy saga #my-writblr

[sidemenimaginesss]

and they were roommates - simon minter

requested: yes - “Hey can you do number 40 with Simon?☺️”

prompt: 40. “stop saying things that make me want to kiss you”

summary: you barely know your new roommate simon. what happens when the tension between you keeps rising after multiple inconvenient run-ins?

wordcount: 3500

-

you got linked up with simon through your mutual friend vik after he found out that the both of you were looking for a roommate in london. you couldn’t contain your excitement and immediately agreed to live with this unknown man. he’s a friend of vik’s so he must be nice. you’ll probably get along just fine... right?

you’ve been texting him back and forth about certain aspects of your new home, such as who gets which room, who brings which piece of furniture et cetera, but you haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other. guess that’ll have to wait until the day you actually meet.

-

it’s the day of moving into your new flat and you and your parents are the first ones to arrive. simon texted you earlier that he still needs to figure some stuff out before he can move in. and so box after box filled with your belongings and pieces of furniture fill the room. you sigh when you’re finally done bringing them all in. you thank your parents and say your goodbyes before you sit down on the floor for a few minutes and take in your surroundings. finally, your own place.

you put on some music and spend the next few hours unpacking. you start with your bedroom, making sure your bed is all set up so you don’t have to sleep on the floor tonight. you continue by setting up different pieces of furniture around the living room, making sure that there’s still enough room for simon’s stuff.

at around 9pm you realise you’ve been working the entire day and still haven’t eaten any food. you decide to quickly order some chinese before continuing the unpacking process.

-

at around 10pm you’ve finished your takeout meal and you decide it’s time to get some rest. you want to take a shower, but are simply too exhausted to do so. instead, you simply jump into bed and fall asleep soon after.

your alarm goes off at 8am, reminding you that you still have a lot of work to do. before you start though, you decide it’s time to go take a shower first.

grabbing a towel and some shower gel, you walk into the bathroom and get out of your clothes. you put on some music you can sing along to and figure out how the shower works before jumping in.

whilst washing your hair, you receive a notification on your phone, but you decide to ignore it. about 15 minutes later, you turn off the shower and get out.

you grab your towel and dry yourself off before realising you need to grab some clean clothes. you put your hair up in a quick bun, ready to walk to your room, before the bathroom door suddenly opens. “oh my god!” you scream loudly when the man who opened the door looks at your naked body in shock and quickly turns around.

you slam the door shut and start breathing heavily. you grab your phone, thinking of calling the police, when you notice a text message from simon on your homescreen: ‘surprise! almost here. finished up packing everything last night. can’t wait to meet you.’ you quickly wrap your body in a towel and call out “simon?”

when you don’t get a response, you open the bathroom door slightly and peek around the corner to see simon’s back facing you. you realise your music is still blaring loudly through your phone’s speakers and you turn it off completely before trying again, “simon?”

this time, he turns around slowly and you’re met with a smug face. “that’ll be me. nice to meet you, roomie,” he extends his hand and you awkwardly shake it through the small gap.

you let out a small laugh when he lets go of your hand. “hey, you wouldn’t be willing to grab me some clothes, would you?”

he smirks and answers coolly, “not a problem. where can i find them?” you step out of the bathroom slightly to point towards your bedroom door and he follows your finger with his eyes. “that room, box next to the wardrobe. you can pick out something nice,” you smile. he nods and looks back over to your face, suddenly making you realise how close the two of you are actually standing. you meet his eyes, lick your lips and look down to the floor, only looking up again when you can’t feel the heat of his body next to yours anymore.

-

“so how do i look?” you ask simon when you’re finally done getting ready in the bathroom.

after looking up from his phone, he looks you up and down from the couch and nods. “you look great.”

you nod and can’t help but feel flustered when you remember he didn’t just see you naked a few minutes ago, but also picked out your underwear for you. talk about a first impression.

you join him on the couch and try to start a conversation. “so, simon, tell me about yourself,” you smile at him as he puts his phone away and sighs. “well i’m simon, but you already knew that. i do youtube, just like vik. did i ever mention i have like nearly 9 million subscribers? it’s no big deal. but you probably already knew that though, right?” he asks for confirmation and you nod slowly, feeling weirded out by his big ego. you didn’t catch that vibe through his text messages.

“oh by the way, because of that, don’t get confused when i have some people over and throw parties here from time to time. that won’t be a problem, right?” he stares you down with confidence, seemingly trying to intimidate you. “as long as there aren’t too many people, it should be fine,” you answer skeptically and smile, trying to hide how uncomfortable you feel. “good. well what else do you want to know about me?”

you cringe slightly at his tone and think of how to phrase your next question without sounding too rude. “where did you get that arrogance from?” you perk up one eyebrow and watch his jaw tense, your own lips curving into a smile. he quickly readjusts his demeanour as he once again looks you up and down. he narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head to the side slightly, poking his tongue in his cheek before a sarcastic smile settles upon his lips. “where did you get your feistiness from?”

“i asked you first,” you shoot back, quick-witted. “and i asked you second,” he smiles sweetly.

the two of you stare each other down for a few seconds before you sigh and look away, making him puff out a chuckle and say something under his breath, “that’s what i thought.”

-

the rest of the morning was spent pretty much avoiding each other. you went back to your room and continued unpacking the boxes whilst he worked on the living room. you didn’t do any bonding, getting to know each other or even much more talking except for when you asked simon if he wanted anything to eat during lunchtime. he declined and kept on installing your new tv whilst you sat in the kitchen, munching on some leftover takeout from last night.

you watch him struggle with several cables for a while from the kitchen island, minding your own business until he groans out of frustration. you let out a snort and see his head snap up to you in anger, “what‘s so funny?”

you chuckle softly and smile it off, “nothing, please continue putting those cables in the wrong places, i’m quite entertained.”

after a few seconds of silence you look up from playing with your food to see him staring at you. “oh, so you think you can do this better?” he answers, nostrils flaring in anger. you nod cockily, jumping off of your barstool and joining him in front of the tv.

you grab the instructions out of his hands and feel his breath on your neck when he towers over you to read where you’re pointing on the paper. “see, you keep putting them in this,” you point at a real plug-in, “but you should be putting them in here,” you hold the paper next to the right plug-in post to compare the two.

you look up to see his jaw tense up once again as he nods at you stiffly. “i guess you’re right. how do you even know this stuff?” he mumbles, earning a victorious smile from you. “i studied cinematography for 4 years. i also learned how to install cables there. see, i would’ve told you earlier if you had asked. but you were too busy bragging about all your 9 million subscribers or whatever. anyway, i’ll be in my room if you need me.”

-

it’s 7pm when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. you look up from the box you were digging through and towards the door and answer, “you can come in.”

the door opens slightly to reveal simon holding a bag of more takeout. “so i noticed you eating chinese during lunch and didn’t know what other kind of food you liked so i just ordered us some takeout.” you laugh, making him look at you confusedly. “why did you order me chinese?”

he blinks, taken aback, “oh, uhm, i can just order us something else if that’s what you want. if you’d rather have, like, i don’t know, pizza? or anything, i don’t mind ordering-“

“that’s not what i meant, simon,” you look at him sternly and let him think over your words for a few seconds, watching the realisation hit him through his facial expression.

“right. i just wanted to say thank you for helping me earlier and sorry for accidentally walking in on you as well, i guess,” he answers awkwardly.

“and?” you smirk, liking the fact that you’re in control of the situation now. he sighs, “and sorry for pretty much being a dick the entire day without reason.”

“i accept your apology, roomie. now, let’s go eat before the food gets cold.”

-

about a week after moving in, your new apartment is almost fully finished and you and simon both agree on throwing a housewarming party. the two of you have had time to get to know each other better over the past few days and you’ve realised that a kind heart lies behind that stupid smirk of his. you just gotta make him feel guilty for being an absolute pain in the ass to reveal his sweeter side.

you’ve also learned that the two of you have loads of stuff in common and you seem to be hitting it off pretty well. except for the unexplainable tension the two of you have from time to time. you brush it off and blame it on your similar personalities clashing and competing for the title of the alpha in the house.

you snap out of your thoughts when you hear the front door open and simon yell “honey, i’m home!” you let out a giggle and get up from the couch to help him unpack the groceries for the party tonight.

“that’s... a lot of alcohol,” you laugh as he puts down several bags full of bottles onto the kitchen island.

he looks you in the eye and smiles, “there are going to be quite a few guests, remember? better too much than too little!”

you help him put the stuff away in silence for a few minutes before you attempt to start some small talk, “so how are you when you’re drunk?”

“i get really horny,” he answers within a heartbeat. instead of bursting out into laughter, you can feel your cheeks heat up and so you quickly turn your back to him, pretending to be putting something in one of the cupboards to hide your red face.

“oh, i-“ your breath catches in your throat and you can feel your blood stream through your veins when you suddenly feel simon’s presence right behind you. you turn around, biting your lip when you see him tower over you. he innocently smiles down at you, “well? are you going to move out of the way so i can put these chips away or what?”

you quickly close your mouth when you realise you were gaping up at him and move away from the cupboard when he gives you the space to do so.

“sorry about that. uhm, is it just me or is it getting hot in here? i think i’m just going to check the thermostat real quick,” you stutter out an excuse to leave the room, still feeling the blood pulse through your body in certain places.

you lock yourself in the bathroom and try to catch your breath. you can’t believe that just happened. you can’t believe you’re feeling this way about your roommate after meeting him just a week ago. you want this feeling to stop so you don’t ruin the small beginnings of the friendship you’ve only just started to create.

so you decide then and there that you’re going to shut him out. at least, in that way. you’re just going to ignore the sudden attraction you feel towards him. well, you’re going to try to.

-

it’s around 11pm when the first people start showing up. you and simon entertain your guests with tours of the house, beer pong, music playing loudly on the dance floor created in the living room and enough booze in the kitchen to pass out from. you don’t hold back on the alcohol yourself either.

“vik! oh my gosh i cannot thank you enough for messaging us about this place. this truly is all thanks to you,” you greet him with a tight hug and kiss on the cheek. he smiles at you brightly, “no thanks needed! i just felt like you and simon would be a perfect fit!” he grins and you try to shake off the stupid smile forming on your lips. “thank you again vik, please help yourself to something to drink in the kitchen! i’ll try to catch up with you later.”

-

after the next hour of greeting guests your house is fully loaded with people and it’s going to be a lot harder to move around in. abandoning your hosting duties at the front door, you go to grab yourself another drink in the kitchen when you bump into an old friend. “harry! hey! when did you get here?”

you can tell just by the look on his face that he has been here for a while: he looks absolutely shit-faced. “i don’t remember, to be quite honest,” he slurs out his answer, making you giggle a little. “what are you doing here? i didn’t know you knew simon,” he asks and you raise your brows. “i’m literally living with simon. this is our housewarming party!” harry seems to be in thought for a moment before it all clicks, “oh! you’re the hot bird he said he was living with, it all makes sense now. hey, wanna dance?” he practically drags you over towards the dance floor when not only your vision, but also your thoughts get a little cloudy.

your mind wanders over all the reasons why simon could’ve said that to harry. what else did simon tell him about you? does he usually describe his girl friends as ‘hot birds’? does this mean he is as attracted to you as you are to him? lost in your thoughts about simon, you barely even realise the fact that you’re grinding against harry.

when you open your eyes the room is spinning. you blink a few times until you can see clear. only now you notice simon standing across the room looking at you, jaw tensed as always, nostrils flaring and steam practically leaving his ears. still oblivious to your close proximity to harry, you eye him with a frown on your face.

you can see simon roll his eyes and disappear into the crowd so you decide to just ignore him, like you promised yourself you’d do. you continue dancing to the blaring music, swaying your hips dangerously from left to right. you finally remember harry dancing behind you when he grabs your sides and pulls you even closer. you lean into his touch, your head pretty much on his shoulder. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the music.

after a while, you can feel yourself get tired and tell harry you’re going to get yourself another drink, leaving him on the dance floor.

suddenly getting overwhelmed by the huge crowd in your living room, you make a beeline for your bedroom instead. you close the door behind you, still feeling the bass of the music in your body but only hearing muffled lyrics being sung.

you sigh and make your way over to the bed to lie down for a second. you’re so intoxicated and don’t know what to do with yourself. that is, until someone barges into the room.

you sit up straight and see simon at the door, looking at you angrily. “what the hell are you doing in my room?” your eyes widen when you take in your surroundings. “shit, i thought- thought this was my room,” you stammer and stand up quickly, a little to quickly: your knees give in and you stumble to the floor. “fuck,” you groan, simon immediately coming over to help you up. “how many have you had to drink? christ, you can barely stand up,” he shakes his head in disappointment.

“i don’t- don’t remember. what about you? are you horny yet?” you ask him in a sudden boost of confidence.

he once again shakes his head in disappointment, biting his lip at but ignoring your comment. “we should probably send everyone home now, i think the party is over.”

you sit back down on his bed and pout. “you’re no fun! it’s only- it’s barely 1 am! right?” you slur out, looking at the blurry numbers of the alarm clock on his bedside table.

“it’s 3 am. i think it’s best if we send everyone home-“ you cut him off, “but harry is- he’s still waiting for me out there. i- i told him i’d be back.”

this immediately gets a reaction from simon: tensed jaw, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “you’re not getting back out there. especially not to dance with harry,” he spits out his name in disgust, making you giggle, “hey, hey what’s up with that? i thought you were friends?”

simon rolls his eyes while he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t want to talk about harry right now. just- stay here for a sec and i’ll-“ he is about to open the door when you cut him off. “wait wait wait! did i just hear... jealousy? in your voice?” you bat your eyelashes at him innocently while he grits his teeth.

“no, i-“ he tries, but you cut him off once again, standing up when you speak. “it sure sounds like jealousy to me! what, you didn’t like it when i was dancing with harry, huh?” you slowly make your way over to him, continuing your innocent act.

“is that it? you’d rather have been the one who was dancing with me? the ‘hot bird’ you’re living with? right? harry told me that’s what you called me. i bet you still think about that first time you saw me-“

“shut up! we’re not having this conversation right now. you’re- you’re not able to think straight right now,” he frowns, yet his cheeks still redden when you get close to him. you smirk and touch his chest with both of your hands.

“maybe not, but jealous you is like... really turning me on right now,” you bite your lip coyly and look up at him through your lashes.

you leave him breathless for a second as he rolls his head back for a second, slightly gasping for air. “you know what you’re doing to me, don’t you? you’re making it very hard for me to control myself right now,” he licks his lips and his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth.

“then stop trying to fight it, simon. i want you,” you drag out your words slowly. at this, he switches positions with you and pins you down against the door, foreheads touching.

“stop saying things that make me want to kiss you,” he mutters to you, breathing heavily.

you finally close the space between you and kiss him harshly. after a few seconds, you gasp for air and he leaves your lips to work his way around your neck, locking the door whilst doing so. “simon,” you moan, throwing your head back as he trails kisses down your neck. once again, you feel your blood and the bass from the music pulse through your body. “fuck,” you trail off as his hands roam your body. you meet his lips again in one of many heated kisses that’ll follow that night.

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