#would it be unholy to call this a toy story au;)

[asamary]

This is another au me and ant wanted to make. Me and ant are still not sure about this au's concept and all, buttttt its about gods, angels, and monsters pretty much.

Soo the story is...

The player was once an angel that was always beside the prototype, the two only watched from the sidelines never interacting, or changing one's fate. The prototype sees the player as a child that needs guidance, and teaches the player their ways. Which is to only observe, never lift a single finger. The player, at first did what they were told, and as they observe for a long time, they begun to have a desire, The desire to live.

When they told the prototype of their desire, the prototype was furious of this. To live with the humans and the beast is unholy to their eyes. To be tainted with their sins,the beasts and humans's unholy desire tainting their precious angel. They lectured the player, but the player persuaded.

So one faithful day, the player did something no angels ever had the guts to do. They broke their halo. After that, they fell. Their halo turning black as the void and their feathers falling until a small wings only remained.

When they landed in a nearby forest, their fall soften by the tree branches. They, for the first time, felt pain. They felt every single bone of their body hurt. But they didn't scream in pain, it was the opposite. They laughed, for the first time in millennia, they found joy in the smallest things. The forest where they landed, had an abandoned cabin. They made it their home, and everyday they would explore the forest. Eating the mushrooms and the berries(even the poisonous ones) they felt alive. They felt free. And once in a while, wild creatures would come to them. Bears, snakes, rabbits, even the deers. They had an aura that said they were harmless. But that also meant they would attract dangerous beasts that stalked the forest. One group in particular. The humans call them the smiling critters, but dont underestimate the critter part, these beast are big, and could eat a human in one gulp. They were curious about the new human living in their cabin. At first they wanted to eat them, but as time passes, they begun to yearn the player's presence. Their softness, how the player always arrange the stuffed toys perfectly until they begun their routine. How they would always make too much food, and merely put them in the refrigerator. How the odd human would read a story until they slept with one of the toys in their arms.

The player lived happily.

Never knowing that their god was always watched them, and one of their loyal followers living with them.

It seems even when they try to leave, their god will always hold them close.

(This isn't finished, and we might change it. But ant liked this idea. Also dogday and catnap's design is still not sure. We both brainstorming here, and how we both gonna make the critters. )

#doddle #poppy playtime player #poppy playtime au #poppy playtime #catnap #dogday #the prototype #poppy playtime luminous au

[hellolittleogre]

48!! Kiss!!

48 - A kiss out of habit

Billy finished off the last dregs of his beer and threw his cigarette into the glass, looking down into the sludgy mess. To the left of him Goody was clearly trying to distract his opponents from his lousy cards with a loud and extravagant tale about a Louisiana alligator who loved band music. Billy had heard it before, it ended with the gator at a fancy dress party where it didn’t even win best costume. 

Playing cards was boring. It involved sitting still and if you did it properly nobody died. Billy liked dominoes better, but Goody, Sam, Vasquez and Faraday looked intent enough on their game to keep it up all evening. Billy toyed with the idea of discretely dropping his hand into Goody’s lap and see where that would get him but as intent as Goody was right now on his game and his story he wasn’t likely to even notice. Or he wouldn’t notice until Billy had got started and the he’d really notice.

But no, as enjoyable as it had been he was still a little sore from the last time he had got Goody all riled up, and they had a long day of riding tomorrow. He shifted a little in his chair just to feel that pleasurable soreness and smirked down into the mess in his beer glass. It had been very pleasurable indeed. He resisted it with a shake of his head, he actually had things to do, he needed to shave and pick up their shirts from the laundry and write a letter to his ma*. Better to go up and get a quiet hour in their room before Goody came to be poured into bed, drunk and sleepy, either giddy with success or pouting from failure and ready to celebrate or be comforted accordingly. He sat for a moment composing a mental list of everything he needed to do before putting the glass down and pushing out his chair.

 “You going up?” Goody asked absently, frowning and rearranging his cards and Billy hummed.

 “Doing some errands first. I’ll be getting our shirts at the laundry.”

Faraday put down a card and Goody swore under his breath, and scowled fiercely at his cards, teeth buried in his bottom lip as he without looking away dug around in his shirt pocket for some crumpled bills and handed them to Billy. “For the shirts,” he said and Billy snorted. 

“Not your servant, Goody” he said but took the money anyway. If he had them at least Goodnight couldn’t gamble it away and Goody looked up from his cards to crane his head back to look at Billy.

“I guess you could buy sweets with it?” he suggested with a smile and Billy rolled his eyes.

 “Try not to lose to badly,” he said and Goody reached out his hand tugging at his sleeve. 

Billy had spent hours, days, weeks on his muscle memory. He had trained himself to throw knives with his eyes closed, to hold the sharp blades between his fingers without getting cut, to reload and pull the bolt of a rifle without thinking, so used to absorb recoil of any sort it no longer registered. But he never realized that Goody was as deeply ingrained into his body as his knives, because when Goody tugged at his sleeve, just as he does when he wants to kiss him goodbye when they are alone, it was entirely out of habit he lightly placed one hand on his shoulder and lent down to kiss him.

Goody smelled familiar, his mouth always the same mix of humid breath, cigarettes and whiskey and his lips fitted perfectly to Billy’s, even misaligned like they were now. “See you in a moment,” he murmured against Goody’s mouth and felt Goody’s answering squeeze of his arm. 

He straightened up and met  three various  expressions of shock, Faraday’s jaw was hanging down to the table, Vasquez had an expression of unholy glee and Sam looked like his horse had just waltzed off without him. He could feel Goodnight freeze under his hand, and hear him let out his breath like its been punched out of him. For a second they were frozen to the spot, like foxes in a trap, before something in the back of Billy’s brain kicked into motion.

“Its, um, how we say goodbye.” he said, his voice sounding extremely odd to his own ears. “In, uh, Joseon.”

(Whatever lived at the back of Billy’s brain its a fucking idiot, that’s what)

Faraday’s eyebrows shoot all the way to his hairline, to match his hanging jaw and Sam looked like he’s on the verge of crying laughter.

“Ce vrai,” Goodnight said in a wobbling voice and Billy felt hot and cold in turns. His hand on Goody’s shoulder tightened, just one wrong move and he was ready to pull Goodnight down behind the next table and shoot the lot of them. It felt like the floor underneath him has swung around to be the ceiling, and his heart was beating so hard in his chest it was painful. His mouth tasted metallic.

“First I’ve ever heard of it,” Sam said mildly, with something that might definitely be laughter bubbling in his voice.

“We weren’t that well acquainted,” he said, mechanically straightening further and walking the half step over to Sam’s side, and before he’s even aware that he was going to do it he’s bent down and bussed Sam’s cheek, somewhere in his horrible, bushy side burn. He could see Goody’s eyes grow round like pennies, but now he had committed to this stupid course of action and there was no choice but to carry on. He dutifully smacked the air beside Faraday’s head, not able to bring himself to actually kiss him. Its only Vasquez left and if Billy can get through this and leave, then Goodnight can spin whatever he needs to make this go away. Doubtlessly it will involve Billy being very, very foreign.

He bent down to quickly peck Alejandro on the cheek but the man turned in his seat quick as a snake and grabbed Billy by the waistcoat, hauling him in and kissed him straight on the mouth, warm and lingering with a liberal hint of tongue stroking against the seam of his closed lips. His stubble scratched nicely against Billy’s chin and he tasted of that cigar he’s always chewing on, smokey and strong. Vas let him go with a loud pop and set him back on his feet.

“And that’s how we say goodbye in Mexico!” he said, his wide affable smile in Billy’s stunned face, and slapped his shoulder, bursting out in wild coyote laughter. Behind Billy he could hear how Faraday start to laugh helplessly and Sam making a braying noise like a dying donkey, which was probably laughter too. They were all pounding on the table and Billy honestly thought Faraday might pull something if he doesn’t calm down soon.

Billy had imagined that he had schooled himself entirely out of blushing at the age of fourteen but now he can feel his face heating up, flaming all the way from his neck to his ears until he’s sure he must be red as blood all over. 

“Ain’t that cordial,” Goodnight said grimly over the laughter and put his cards down on the table with a soft splat, something of a gleam in his eyes, cold and hot at the same time. “On second thought, I think I’d better come with you for those shirts, there’s obviously no knowing what you can get into on your own.”

 He got up and steered Billy out of the room gripping his elbow, a slight hectic flush fanning over his cheeks and even in his deeply stunned state Billy could still feel a smirk running up his face. Looks like he’d managed to get Goodnight riled up after all. Still smirking he leaned slightly into the hand on his arm. He guessed Goody could be the one uncomfortable tomorrow, if it came to that.

* In this AU I imagine that Billy Rock’s ma is a lovely little Korean lady in her sixties, alive and well in California and Billy writes her and sends money every month like a good boy. According to those letters he’s living a very settled life as a mine foreman to a surveying crew, with a lovely girl called “Gertrude” married since five years back, no fire fights here, no ma'am. He sure couldn’t tell the difference from a gun to a hole in the ground. And he only drinks on Fridays. He and Goodnight are frantically trying to invent excuses as to why they haven’t had kids yet. Every letter is a balance on a knife’s edge between reassuring her that everything is fine and never, ever enticing her to visit. The child conundrum has occupied them for years now, Goody says they should just invent a couple, while Billy claims that if his mother thought she had grandkids anywhere she would cross the desert by foot to see them, and if they say that “Gertrude” is infertile, she will also come to make sure they drink tea of fennel and stallion urine and never have a genital temperature above 34.7 F (besides Billy would never slander “Gertrude” like that). His suggestion is that they invent a permanent mine-related accident for his testicles to which Goody counters that if Billy has his testicles crushed by a fictional boulder his mother will absolutely come up from California to make sure he is all right, to which Billy said that that wasn’t entirely correct, sure she’d be up with them fast as a shot and bring all their female relatives but only so they could have a good laugh about it.

Meanwhile Billy’s ma is no fool and she can see that the postage stamp is different for every letter and knows there is no mining company that would let an Asian man be foreman over a surveying crew and that Gertrude doesn’t sound like she knows the first thing about keeping a house, but she figures that at least he’s alive and well and as long as she can tell him she loves him and is proud over him in every letter there’s no harm done. She can tell him on her deathbed. She figures it’ll be funny.

#kiss prompt #goody x billy #slight bonus kiss of vasquez x billy #Sam Chisolm #joshua faraday #vasquez #the last one #thanks everyone who has sent prompts #I've loved this #technically I wasnt given a pairing for this #so they all more or less kiss

[danreblogsstuff]

So I want one of those FMA role swap AUs where Ed is the older military officer and Roy is the teenage alchemist under his command, except their personalities stay mostly the same and Ed is still as small as he was at the beginning of the show/manga while Roy is his usual height. I want Winry-as-Riza to constantly be threatening to shoot Ed, not because he’s so lazy he refuses to work, but because all the paperwork on his desk inevitably ends up on his chair because he needs a boost. I want Ed to go out recruiting a young Roy Mustang and Roy refusing to believe that Ed is a real military officer.

“Funny, kid. Who put you up to this? Riza? Old Man Hawkeye?”

“I’m not a kid! I’m a Lieutenant Colonel--”

“In the munchkin brigade? You know I think I saw that exact same uniform on the neighbor boy’s toy soldier the other day.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLIN’ SO SHORT HE HAS TO GET HIS UNIFORM OFF A HAND PUPPET!?”

Instead of the Flame Alchemist, I want Ed to be called the Matchstick Alchemist because he’s so tiny and hot headed. And also the flame alchemy, I guess.

I want Hoenheim to run a brothel and Madam Christmas to be the immortal, absent Mother. I want Al to carry around a wallet filled with pictures of his precious cats.

I want the Ishvalan’s to be firmly convinced that Amestris has an entire brigade of child soldiers, because even with their unholy alchemy there’s no way that all the stories of the horrors Ed committed during the war could possibly have been done by one small boy. I want Roy to be confused when he hears these stories, because the tiny Colonel he knows can’t possibly keep secrets this big; he wears his every emotion on his face and he doesn’t live his life the way Roy would expect a man to when he’s trying to make up for something so terrible. The way Roy does. Compartmentalization is nothing new to Roy even though he wears his sins on his body for all to see, his metal limbs exposed to the world and the best friend whose life he destroyed trailing after him in that metal prison, and he can’t imagine Ed ever compartmentalizing anything with the way he flies off the handle at the, heh, smallest sleight to his height. When he mentions these stories to Ed, though, instead of the scowl or the scoffing he expects, Ed’s entire face darkens and Roy suddenly feels like he’s looking into a mirror, and just like that he knows they’re all true. For the first time in his life Roy has met someone whose sins match and possibly even surpass his own. Because Roy might have done terrible things in his quest for power, and it might have always been those closest to him who paid the majority of the price, but his collateral damage was always localized. Ed’s collateral damage helped to all but destroy an entire people. He wonders if this is why Ed always kept him around despite his constant jabs about his height, his thinly veiled disdain for the officer who is so far from the military ideal a young Roy grew up idolizing, and the fact that he’s made no secret of his plans to shoot past Ed on his way to the Fuhrership. He wonders if Ed knows what it’s like to go through life unable to truly connect with anybody who hasn’t lived through a hell of their own making. It’s the beginning of Roy truly understanding Ed. It’s the beginning of the respect that, one day, will turn into something more.

I want Ed to push Roy to the very top of the military with all the unwavering determination a different Ed in a different universe once used to get his brother’s body back. Because Ed can’t trust himself with that kind of power over other people, but Roy? He thinks he can trust Roy. He thinks Roy is exactly what Amestris needs. Exactly what Ed needs to finally ensure nothing like Ishval ever happens again. He believes in Roy, in a way he can’t believe in himself. So he’ll help him. And guide him as best he can. And when Roy is ready the universe better watch the fuck out, because there is nothing in this world or beyond it that’s gonna stop them.

I want to see Roy use his power as Fuhrer to change the world for Ed. And I want to see Ed sacrifice his power as an alchemist to get everything Roy lost back from beyond the Gate.

(Because even though Ed hates the things he’s done with his alchemy, it’s still a large part of who he is. It’s why he can’t be trusted with any more power, because once he has it he can’t give it up. Until he does. Until he finds a reason important enough, finds someone important enough, to finally let go.)

But mostly I just want to see this AU as something more than an excuse to make Ed tall and buff because I can’t stand tall buff Ed lol

#fma #Roy Mustang #edward elric #royed #i have no idea if roy's friend in the armor should be maes or riza #so i left that ambiguous #along with like a thousand other important details that would make this au work #fucking sue me #lol

[toast-the-unknowing]

lydia-st-james tagged me in a writing in review meme, which, man. That takes me back. I haven't done one of these in ages.

Main take-aways: 1. 2017 was the year of the long-ass fic titles, apparently. 2. It only took ten freaking years but I can mostly write romance without dying of embarrassment. Mostly. 3. Ten years has not been long enough to teach me how to start something and just finish it already before starting twenty more things. Seriously, there are so many stories that I started this year that I keep thinking ya'll have read already and then I remember that no one has read those because I haven't finished them yet. Oh well. Maybe 2018 will be a year of extraordinary personal growth and self-discipline. Spoiler alert: it won't be.

Anyway. These are the things that I've published so far this year.

Listed in chronological order of publication, with one exception:

new worlds for the weary, new lands for the living Okay, so, I don't know if anyone else thinks of any of their stories this way, but I have a very small handful of fics that are my heartsong fics. I don't think of them as being stories. I think of them as being thousands of words of meta and criticism and gushing and character love and, just, me, pouring my heart out over some aspect of canon that is important to me, and then maybe if I'm lucky, I trick people into reading it and thinking it's a story.

Yeah. This is one of those. I started this story before I had even finished Blue Lily, Lily Blue, which is not a thing I do. I always finish canon (to whatever extent canon exists at the time of my joining fandom) before I start writing. But I wanted so badly to write about Adam and Ronan and how I felt about their relationship that I couldn't wait.

This was something like a five month writing process all told, and I'm really happy with the end result. The moment where Ronan smears ink on Adam's face, in particular, I'm very proud of. I'm proud of that whole fight scene, really, but that moment is such a strong visual, and I'm not generally great at creating those.

don't think about how much it will hurt God, I still hate this title, but I do love this fic. It exists because I had been toying around with a canon-divergent AU that I quickly realized was going to take a shit-ton of work and not actually be that interesting. I ditched the AU, but there was one scene I liked enough that I didn't want to give up on it (Ronan trying to provoke Adam into punching him and then holding his hand while wondering wtf he's doing), and I realized it could pretty easily be made canon-compliant and given the legs to stand on its own.

I briefly considered tagging this as "preslash if you consider fighting and bad decisions to be flirting, which if you ship pynch, you probably do," and then I considered how poorly that would match the tone of this story. I am very happy with the tone of this story. It was hard to write, and I think it's hard to read, and it's a better story for it.

the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind NO ONE ON EARTH READ THIS FIC BUT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT I LOVE IT. There are so many, many, many things in this fic that make me happy: -Clarke being an unholy mashup of my sister and talldecafcappuccino -"You thought that there was an intersection of sentimentality and camp that Miller wouldn't be interested in?" -Just, Murphy. All of Murphy. -The Inseparable, Indestructible Blake Siblings (which is when the Blake siblings are at their best, fuck you, canon) -"Do you ever worry that we're going to turn out to be warped people with unhealthy relationships/Honestly at this point I'm counting on it." -the whole scene where Raven friend-dumps Clarke -Monty taking "gas grass or ass" too seriously -Nate's stupid "you know what they say about those guys with Bigfoot" t-shirt (I would wear that t-shirt)

Like, I know why this story wasn't successful as an item of fan culture. And I acknowledge that there are weaknesses in the writing. But I still fucking love it.

so familiar, like an old bedtime song Ugh, this was called "came in quiet with the rain" right up until the very second I published it and then I changed my mind and I still regret it. Never second gues yourselves, kids. (Either way: "Raising Cain" is a good Adam/Ronan song.) I wrote about half of this on a whim and then shoved it in a corner waiting for inspiration for the longer story that I thought it was meant to be a part of. Then I was sitting around on Adam's birthday/my birthday weekend, a little tipsy in the middle of the day, and I decided, nah, this can be a standalone. I'm not kidding myself that it's great literature but I think it does what it sets out to do well.

The Fake Geek Boy Job This is a rare example, for me, of coming up with a title first and writing the story around it. So that was fun. I was so, so, so happy with the response to this fic. I've written case fic before, but I'm not good at heists, and I was really worried that the way I handle the heavier plot elements here – basically cutting around them and explaining all of the offstage action through snarky banter – was going to feel like cheating. Like, there's probably a version of this story that's 20k words longer and is twice as good, but it would have taken ten times as much work. It seems like people understood the plot as it stands and didn't feel robbed, and it was such a relief to hear that.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name IT IS THE PROUDEST ACCOMPLISHMENT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE that there are only two fanfics on AO3 tagged with the relationship tag "Quark & Jake Sisko" and I wrote both of them. Though I fully admit that "Everybody Comes to Quark's" is the better story of the two. This one feels like the first half is from one story and the second half is from a different story and neither of those two stories is complete, per se. But love a lot of the individual lines, character moments, etc. Also, just, any times spend with my beloved ridiculous giraffe boy Jake is good time.

faith, hope, all that bullshit This is the best thing that I have ever written that is based on a typo. And...I don't really know how to talk about this fic beyond that. It took something like seven months of on-again-off-again work; I am super grateful to Pynch Week for giving me the kick in the pants to finish it. There were so many things that were challenging about this – I hated everything in life the entire time I was writing Matthew. Plus trying to write all the characters as being a little older and more mature and their relationships as having progressed. But it was worth it because there are so many moments in this fic that just are still living in my head, even though I've put the fic down.

I think my favorite scene of all is the Christmas Eve scene, partly because I love Declan and partly because I love the "fucking Cain ruined it for the rest of us" exchange. But from a craft point of view I'm proud of that scene a lot. The first scene is its own contained story with beginning/middle/end; the Christmas Eve scene is what makes the proposal scene the beginning of a longer story, and it happens without the POV character understanding that it's happening. I'm pretty happy with how that all turned out.

People really liked the wedding scene, which is gratifying and totally baffling. That scene was murder to write. I don't even want to plan my own wedding, now I got to make one up for someone else? Of course, I mean. I cheated, because I didn't actually write the reception. Maybe the lesson here is if I don't even want to write a scene then for sure no one would want to read it?

Word on the Street This is another one, like The Fake Geek Boy Job, where I think there's a version of the story that's twice as good and eight times as long and a hundred times more work to write; I'm satisfied with my version. Also, I think the longer version is much more serious, whereas this is a comedy and I am happy with it as a comedy. Adam maybe comes off a little poorly, in the way that comedy characters sometimes come off dickish/rude/sociopathic. But it makes me laugh and honestly if I make myself laugh I'm happy. (That's not to say I'm never going to write the epic tale of how Ronan becomes Greywaren – I know what the first line of it is – but it's a real low priority).

come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls OKAY I WROTE THIS IN LIKE LITERALLY TWO DAYS AND YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME. Even just writing something of this length usually takes weeks if not months between when I start it and when I finish it. This was like a dirty little fling, and as someone who never has dirty little flings either in life or in writing, that was a fun change of pace.

The Dragon's Nest Avatar: The Last Airbender is, in my eyes, basically a perfect television show, and it's a lot harder to write fic for something that you think is well-written/complete on its own, because where do you and your fanwriting fit in? As such, this was a challenge, but I'm pretty happy with it. Alchemicink, for whom this was written, mentioned being happy just from seeing the "intergenerational friendship" tag, and I gotta say I was happy just from getting to use that tag. And any day you get to write Toph stomping around yelling at people is a good day.

while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now So credit where credit is due: lydia-st-james gave me the prompts here and put up with my intermittent screeching as I was working on it. It took me a while to get it all done, but I wrote literally 13k words of this in the first four days, which is bonkers; I'm usually much more of a percolator in the early stages of writing. As such a lot of the outlining process is lost to the sands of time. I don't remember making an actual decision to set this in LA; I think my subconscious realized before I did that this was going to be a story about loneliness and depression, and, fairly or unfairly, I associate loneliness and depression with the city of Los Angeles. In any case, it gave me lots of opportunities to throw shade at LA and I'm always down for that, and I've loved hearing people respond to the specificity of the location.

It's funny to me that people are responding to this one so strongly because I don't generally groove on fake dating; I’ve never written it as a trope and I always find it hard to swallow as a reader. I wonder if there's something to be said for writing tropes one is somewhat critical of. Though I don't think, generally, it works out when people write a thing they actively hate. It's a theory I'm tinkering with, anyway.

#long-ass post #whoops #sorry? #millenial loves talking about herself: news at 11 #lydia-st-james #gpoy