#writing essentials

[marketingprofitmedia]

10 Easy Steps to Get Your Writing Career Started Right Away!

To kickstart your writing career, begin by refining your skills and building an online presence. Next, network with other writers and create a portfolio to showcase your work.

Embarking on a writing career can seem daunting, but with the right steps, you can launch your journey successfully. As you look to turn your passion for words into a profession, it’s imperative to focus on skill development and strategic self-promotion.

Today, a significant online footprint is crucial for aspiring writers. Creating a robust digital portfolio will serve as the cornerstone of your career, displaying your talents to potential clients or employers. Networking isn’t just a buzzword; it’s a gateway to opportunities, mentorship, and collaborative projects that can accelerate your growth. With the internet at your fingertips, there are countless resources available to help you enhance your writing abilities, stay updated on industry trends, and connect with writing communities. Begin with clarity of purpose and a commitment to continual learning, and you’ll find that launching your writing career can be a structured and clear-cut endeavor.

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The Call Of The Word: Is Writing Your True Passion?

The Call of the Word: Is the symphony of sentences and the rhythm of rhetoric music to your ears? Do you find solace in the warm embrace of pages? If so, writing might just be your true passion. Embarking on this journey requires a blend of creativity, dedication, and strategy.

Identifying Your Niche In Writing

Discovering your niche is akin to finding your home in the vast world of words. It’s where your thoughts flow freely and your voice resounds with authenticity. Consider the following to uncover your writing haven:

Interests: What topics spark joy in your heart? List them down.

Expertise: Are you an expert in a field? Highlight it.

Market Demands: Seek out what readers crave and align it with your interests.

Feedback: Share your work. Note what resonates with your audience.

The Role Of Passion In A Writing Career

Passion fuels persistence, the cornerstone of any successful writing career. It powers you through challenges and sparks creative fires. To gauge if passion drives your writing, reflect on these points:

Do stories and ideas constantly dance in your head?

Do you feel a sense of fulfillment when words form on a page?

Are you willing to write regularly, with or without immediate rewards?

Passion is not just the initial spark; it’s the relentless engine that sustains your writing journey.

Crafting Your Writer’s Toolkit

Embarking on a writing career can be as thrilling as it is daunting. The key to smoothing the path lies in preparing a robust writer’s toolkit. Think of it as your trusty sidekick, equipped with everything necessary to tackle any writing challenge that comes your way. Let’s assemble the essential gear to kickstart your writing journey with confidence!

Essential Tools For Every Aspiring Writer

Building a strong foundation starts with the right tools. These items form the core of your writer’s toolkit:

Reliable Writing Software: Choose a word processor like Microsoft Word or Google Docs.

Note-Taking Apps: Apps like Evernote or OneNote keep your ideas organized.

Grammar and Style Guides: Resources like Grammarly or the Hemingway Editor enhance your writing.

Inspirational Reading Material: Fill your shelves with books that ignite your creativity.

A Dedicated Notebook: For jotting down thoughts that strike at any hour.

Enhancing Your Digital Toolkit For Writing

Your digital toolkit is crucial for modern writing success. Ensure these tech-savvy items are at your fingertips:

Cloud Storage: Services like Dropbox or Google Drive safeguard your work.

Writing Community Access: Join platforms like Wattpad or Scribophile for feedback.

Online Courses and Webinars: Sites like Coursera or Udemy to sharpen your skills.

Keyword Research Tools: Utilize Google Trends or Ubersuggest for SEO-centric writing.

Social Media Profiles: Promote your work on Twitter, LinkedIn, or Instagram.

Pack these essentials, and your writer’s toolkit will be ready to tackle any task. Embrace the journey with your well-stocked arsenal!

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Honing Your Craft: Writing Practices

Becoming a prolific writer requires dedication and practice. Start by fostering habits that sharpen your writing abilities. Aim for growth each day. Your skills will blossom with consistent effort. Let’s delve into the steps to refine your writing talent.

Daily Writing Routines To Boost Your Skills

Create a daily writing ritual. This habit forms the backbone of your journey. Commit to writing a minimum word count each day. The content doesn’t need perfection. The goal is to build muscle memory and confidence.

Start a journal. Capture thoughts and daily experiences. It sharpens your ability to observe details.

Play with prompts. They ignite creativity and offer fresh ideas. Use them to spark your imagination.

Write letters. Even if you don’t send them, articulate your voice and connect deeply with topics.

Time of DayWriting ActivityWord Count GoalMorningJournal Entry300 wordsAfternoonShort Story500 wordsEveningReflective Essay400 words

The Importance Of Reading As A Writer

Writers must be avid readers. Reading widens vocabulary and exposes you to different styles. You learn new techniques and storytelling methods. Dedicate time to read each day.

Diverse genres. Explore various genres to understand a range of writing styles.

Analyze writing. Don’t just read for pleasure. Study the author’s choices and use of language.

Take notes. Jot down phrases or structures you admire. Incorporate them into your writing practice.

Remember, reading is as crucial as writing. Both activities complement each other. They fuel your imagination and hone your craft. Invest time in reading broadly and deeply.

Building An Online Presence

Embarking on a writing career signals the start of an exciting adventure. However, before you can captivate an audience with your words, you must first be visible to them. Building an online presence is critical. This digital footprint makes you searchable and accessible to potential readers, clients, and collaborators. Let’s explore some essential steps to establish your online identity.

Creating A Professional Writer’s Website

Your writer’s website is your professional portfolio, storefront, and business card all in one. Here are key elements to include:

Home Page: An inviting welcome with your picture and tagline.

About Page: Your story, experience, and why you write.

Portfolio: Samples of your work, neatly categorized.

Contact: Easy ways to reach you.

Blog: Your thoughts and updates to keep visitors engaged.

Ensure your website is clean, navigable, and mobile-friendly. Use a straightforward domain name, preferably yourname.com

Social Media Strategies For Writers

Social media platforms are tools to amplify your voice and connect with your audience.

PlatformUsageContent TypeTwitterNetworkingQuick thoughts, industry newsFacebookCommunity buildingLong-form posts, event promotionInstagramVisual storytellingImages, short videos, storiesLinkedInProfessional brandingArticles, career milestones

Choose platforms that align with your brand and target audience. Post consistently, engage with followers, and showcase your writing style. Creating valuable content tailored to each platform can grow your followers and elevate your professional status.

Navigating The World Of Publishing

Embarking on a writing journey is thrilling! Entering the publishing world can be intimidating, but it need not be daunting. With some guidance, you can navigate this arena with confidence. Here’s how to understand your options and pitch your work properly, bringing you closer to your dream of becoming a published author.

Understanding Different Publishing Options

Before diving into the publishing lakes, you must know the types of waters. Traditional publishing involves established houses with rigorous selection processes. They often provide thorough support but expect high-quality manuscripts.

Self-publishing grants more control over your content and faster turnaround but requires self-marketing.

Last, hybrid publishing blends both, offering flexibility with some professional services.

Writing Queries And Pitching To Publishers

Once you’re set on a publishing route, create a striking query letter or book proposal. A concise query letter is a gold key to an editor’s attention. Start with a snappy introduction, an overview of your work, your bio, and the reason you think they’re the perfect fit for your manuscript. Remember, a well-crafted pitch sets the stage for your writing journey.

Highlight the uniqueness of your story.

Include a captivating hook to garner interest.

Show off your market awareness and target audience.

Maintain a professional tone throughout.

Ensure the letter is error-free and flawlessly formatted.

Embrace this new chapter with an informed, proactive stance. With consistency and perseverance, you’re sure to make waves in the publishing world!

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Monetizing Your Writing

You love to write and dream of making it your career. The good news is that you can start earning from your writing today. With various options available, you can choose paths that align with your passions and lifestyle. Let’s dive into effective ways to monetize your writing, comparing freelancing with salaried positions and exploring diverse revenue streams.

Freelancing Vs. Salaried Writing Positions

Freelancing and salaried positions offer different benefits. Freelancers enjoy flexibility and variety, taking on projects that excite them. Salaried writers benefit from stability and regular income. Your choice should match your financial needs and work preferences.

Freelancing: Set your schedule, pick your projects, and be your boss.

Salaried Positions: Regular paychecks, company benefits, and team collaboration.

Consider starting with freelancing to build a diverse portfolio. A strong portfolio can lead to a full-time position later. Both paths are viable and can be rewarding for your writing career.

Exploring Revenue Streams For Writers

Expanding your revenue sources is vital for a stable writing income. There are many ways for writers to earn money beyond traditional job roles. Here are a few to consider:

Revenue StreamDescriptionPotential IncomeWriting ArticlesCreate content for blogs or websitesVaries by length and nicheSelf-PublishingWrite and sell your booksRoyalties per book saleCopywritingWrite persuasive content for businessesPer project or hourly ratesContent MarketingStrategy and creation for brand growthRetainer or project-based payAffiliate MarketingEarn by promoting products or servicesCommission on sales

Get creative with your skills and combine different streams for a robust income. For example, you may freelance while building your blog with affiliate links. Think outside the box, and do not hesitate to blend various writing opportunities.

Growing And Sustaining Your Writing Career

Embarking on a writing career sparks excitement and possibility. Yet, the journey from budding writer to established author demands effort beyond just crafting stories or articles. Success in the writing world hinges on building a sustainable career. This requires strategy, dedication, and a proactive mindset.

Networking With Other Writers And Industry Professionals

Connections propel careers forward in the writing industry. Networking is key. With the right community, you gain insights, support, and opportunities. Engage with others through these actionable points:

Join writing forums or online communities

Attend writing workshops or conferences

Follow industry professionals on social media

Participate in local writers’ groups or clubs

Collaborate on projects with peers

Sharing experiences and challenges with fellow writers can lead to partnerships, mentorships, and referrals to new gigs.

Setting Long-term Goals And Staying Motivated

Setting GoalsStaying Motivated

Define clear, achievable objectives

Break down goals into smaller tasks

Set deadlines for each milestone

Celebrate small wins regularly

Keep a journal of progress

Read or listen to success stories

Focus on long-term achievements to maintain a fulfilling career. Create a roadmap and celebrate milestones to stay driven. Balancing ambition with realistic goals keeps motivation high and burnout at bay.

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I Start Writing Freelancing?

Yes, you can start a freelancing writing career by creating a portfolio, joining freelance websites, and networking with potential clients.

What Qualifications Needed For Writing?

No formal qualifications are necessary, but strong writing skills, excellent grammar, and a passion for writing are essential to succeed.

How To Find Writing Job Opportunities?

Explore online job platforms, reach out to content agencies, network in writing communities, and check social media for companies seeking writers.

What Is Essential In Starting Writing?

Understanding your niche, mastering the art of writing, and being persistent are crucial when launching your writing career.

Tips For Maintaining A Writing Routine?

Set clear goals, create a dedicated workspace, schedule regular writing hours, and minimize distractions to maintain a consistent writing routine.

Conclusion

Embarking on your writing journey is thrilling. Remember, consistency and dedication are your best allies. Use the steps outlined to build a solid foundation. Keep exploring, learning, and don’t fear making mistakes. Grab your pen, power up your device, and start crafting your future now – the world awaits your stories.

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Thanks for reading my article on 10 Easy Steps to Get Your Writing Career Started Right Away!, hope it will help!

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Source : 10 Easy Steps to Get Your Writing Career Started Right Away!

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[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

#i literally JUST finished hill house a few days ago and i already want to reread. Badly. it's sooo so so soo sooooooooo good <33333!!!!! #also completely enamored by shirley jackson's writing style i NEED to read everything she has written ever like right now.. #opening lines of ALL TIME btw 👆❗❗❗ #r.txt #the haunting of hill house #ALSO i've seen commentary videos on the tv show they made of hill house but from what i remember of it it's SO different from the book??? #i think they were all siblings in the show which is??????? like why would you change that part?? i love sibling relationships as much as the #next guy but i feel like the fact that none of them knew each other was such an essential part of the story like why would u change it.... #also eleanor was like. an entirely different character who was also already dead in the show i believe??? and dr. montague doesn't exist?? #hill house could've been really good as a show idk why they changed it up like that...like was the original story not interesting enough for #you or something?? WHO decided to make that change i just wanna talk 🤨

[bidonicart]

Lyanna Stark and ser Gerold Hightower at the Tower of Joy.

A scenario conceived by @seaworthit, scripted by @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly and adapted into a comic by me.

where else to find me

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf art #lyanna stark #gerold hightower #jon snow #tower of joy #this is all very quick and spontaneous #also a rehearsal for the oc comic i'm working on #i want to find that sweet spot where things have an acceptable level of finish but are also sustainable for several pages #ETA: this is essentially fanfic so if you feel the need to debate the canonicity of it... Please write your own meta post #my comics

[pinespittinink]

my hot take is that if you want to write a book, you need to read books

#Twitter would crucify me #not that this site is tremendously better at times #but sometimes it is #anyway. you can engage with creative media for inspiration so much #for characters for plot for arcs for ideas #but you also— 100%— need to read actual books #whole ass published books #because if you want to write a BOOK #you need to know what the craft is #not just the story and the inspiration #but the legit writing craft of language and storytelling with the written word #and try as you might: nothing will compare to that #no film or tv series or anything else will give you the same insight on How to Write as reading a book will #audio books count too!! they are still books; just audible ones #but you just— guys you just gotta read #you can’t neglect it as an essential for your own writing #sap spill

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈 #this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw. #Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the-- #original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains. Yall can thank @whoevenknowsdude for giving me the motivation not to give up on this version.

The party was going on as usual. Steve had been to many of them before. The earliest he remembered was being five and led around by his mother’s hand, then eventually being handed off to a nanny for the rest of the evening. It was always some sort of parade. As a young child, he was the cute baby version of his father. Something for the women to coo at.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future. 

Growing up, there was one part he was always dreading. The point where people tried to set him up with their daughters, or granddaughters, or nieces. He heard pieces of such transactions all the time. 

‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’ 

‘You know Celia is about your age...’ 

‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

Steve caught glimpses of the older boys either politely rebuffing or ending up engaged with someone. This was a very insular crowd, he knew that. Still, he hoped he’d have something resembling a choice when the time came.

And yet, as he got older, no one rushed to introduce him to anyone. It confused him to no end. He had no trouble attracting girls at school and all of his parents’ friends thought he was charming. He came from good stock. Why did no one want him to marry their daughter?

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre. 

But back to tonight. It was going like it always did. Steve spent most of it by his parents’ sides, only occasionally going off on his own. He made nice conversation, had a drink or two, despite being nineteen, and kept the Harrington name good and golden.

As the hour got late though, it got to the point where most of the men split off to have cigars. Steve was usually excused at this point but this time his father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the next room. He took part in more conversation about his prospects (not going to school but who needed to when he was planning on succeeding his father) and drank some brandy.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it...exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“....Right...”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

“Yeah, plenty of times. But what are you guys talking about what’s going on?”, Steve asked.

“Come with me, son.”

Steve got up and followed his father. The other men came along down the stairs into the basement of the clubhouse. But then it went deeper.

“History is filled with ambitious figures, Steve. People who did whatever it took to reach their goals. Tonight it’s up to you to take us even higher.”

“Up to me? What do you want me to do?”

They came to the bottom of the stairs. His mother was already waiting, along with the other women. There was a large stone slab with restraints on it and Steve felt his stomach drop at the implication. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was too crazy.

“Mom, Dad...what are we doing here?”

“The higher power we worship will give us fortune beyond what we could dream of”, his father said. “But everything has its price.”

Before Steve could utter another question, he felt hands on him, gripping and pushing him towards the slab. He struggled and screamed for both of his parents. For some kind of explanation. For something that made sense. But he could feel his sanity slipping as they got him on the altar and tied his limbs down.

Lawrence, 50, with an unconvincing hairpiece stood over him. Steve never liked Lawrence. He always looked at him weird and his touches lingered like he was inspecting a piece of meat.

He was doing it now, trailing a hand up his tied up arm.

“I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Steven. And your parents for bringing up such good stock. I have no doubt he will be pleased with you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on but there’s no way you’re going to kill me for-for what? More money?”

His mother came into view, her expression mournful and Steve wanted to vomit.

“Steve, my love, we won’t be killing you. We could never do that. We just need a bit of your blood. After that....well after that....”

“Our lord will do what he wants with you. And with their lot I can only imagine he will want to devour your soul”, his father finished.

“So you are killing me.”

“We won’t be dealing the killing blow”, his father said. “And who is to say you won’t survive?”

Steve took a deep breath through his nose. This was insane. But it seemed like they at least didn’t plan to put a stake through his heart. He’d lose a bit of blood, they’d probably chant, and then when their demon lord didn’t show up, he could get a shower and then maybe disown his parents.

That didn’t make this situation any less shitty though.

Then someone ripped open his jacket and shirt, exposing his chest. Both of his parents were given knives. The knowledge that they didn’t intend to kill him quell that instinctual fear. Steve had always been a good kid. But sometimes good wasn’t enough. Sometimes he wondered if his parents regretted having him. So his current view wasn’t helping at all in that regard.

They both cut a slit right in the center of his palms and he hissed. They then took his blood and drew a symbol on his stomach. 

There was indeed chanting but between the alcohol, his bleeding hands, and the general delirium, Steve couldn’t make it out. God, he just wanted this to be over. He just wanted normal parents who didn’t sacrifice their own son to the devil.  He wanted a lot of things but it seemed like life would disappoint him one last time.

“Whoa! You’ve got a real party going on here”, a voice said, coming down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?”, one of the chanters demanded.

Steve craned his neck to see....some guy. It was just some guy, in a black tank top and ripped jeans.

“Who? Me?”, he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. “Was I not summoned? I thought I heard my name.”

“Someone get this fool out of here!”

“Oh, I see what the issue is. I’m not in the proper attire. My bad.” He took a few more steps forward, right into the range of the men who had advanced on him. Then flames erupted from his body, burning them in an instant. When the fire dissipated, Steve let out a gasp and started to actually pull against his restraints.

This was real! Fuck this was real! A real demon with horns and claws and fangs and shit-were those wings?! He had to get out of here, even if that meant ripping his hands and feet off to escape.

Turned out that was the wrong move. In seconds, the demon crossed the room on all fours and climbed atop the slab to hover over Steve.

“My lord”, Steve’s father said in an impressively even tone. “We offer you our greatest sacrifice-” He was cut off with a deep growl, one that Steve felt in his bones, being this close.

“You...haven’t...sacrificed....anything.” The demon turned its gaze to Steve, lying under him. “But you still have so much to give.” He touched a clawed hand to Steve’s stomach where the bloody symbol was. “Will you give it to me?”

Steve let out a breath. He was going to die. He was going to die and what did he have to show for it? Actually....what did he have to show for it if he lived tonight? Maybe it would be painless, this soul sucking. He just wanted to be done.

“Just take it”, Steve said. “Take whatever you want.”

The demon laughed darkly. “I always do.” He smeared a clawed hand against Steve’s torso, messing up what was drawn there. He sniffed his hand and let out a sigh. 

“Steve!”, his mother shrieked and he wondered if she had just realized what she was giving him up for.

“They spilt your blood for their own gains. Now to me, that doesn’t seem fair”, the demon said. “Don’t you think they should have to give something up? Don’t you want them dead?”

Steve dared to look the demon in his face. The eyes betrayed nothing. Just a blank, red void. But there was something about his expression anyway. Something in the quirk of his lip, the tilt of his head. Steve wondered if he actually would kill everyone in this room if he asked. As for himself, well, despite everything Steve couldn’t ask that of him. He really only wanted one thing and this might be his single chance to voice it out loud.

“I just want to be free.”

“Now see here”, Lawrence said, wagging a finger. “We have been your loyal servants. Our wishes-cckhk!”

He was cut off when the demon’s tail wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer. The demon brought him over until they were eye to eye.

“I would go ahead and count the blessings I already have. You all get to live another day.” He dropped Lawrence, ignoring his gasps for breath as he looked back down at Steve. “And you’re coming with me.”

Flames swirled around them but Steve didn’t feel any heat. Just a rush of warm wind as his restraints disappeared. The light got too bright though and he closed his eyes. When he no longer felt the light behind them, he opened them up, expecting the fires of hell, or a dark abyss of a pit. Maybe even some combination of the two.

Instead he found that he was in a….cramped apartment. The demon was back to the tank top and jeans and Steve wondered if someone had slipped something into a drink.

“You live here?”

The demon stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Whenever I come topside, yeah. And for the time being, so do you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t tell me you wanna go back to those assholes. Not after they-” He stopped speaking and his nostrils flared. Then he looked down.

Steve followed his gaze and saw that his hands were dripping blood onto the floor. “Ah, shit, sorry I-” He was about to wipe it on his ruined shirt when the demon grabbed a wrist, freezing him in place. His words were caught in his throat when the demon took a long sniff at the blood still slowly dripping out of his palm. He looked Steve in the eye as he slowly licked it clean. When the blood was gone, Steve saw his hand was completely healed.

The demon took his other hand and did the same, but somehow went even slower. The licks were punctuated with what could have been open mouth kisses but Steve wasn’t sure. Either the demon was making out with his hand or trying to eat him with little success.

When that one was finished, the demon looked at him and Steve was taken with how blown his eyes were. Like Steve’s blood was top shelf.

“B-buy a guy dinner first, huh?”

The demon came back into himself and took a step back, releasing Steve’s hand. “Yeah, sorry it’s just-yeah…” He cleared his throat and then turned, going deeper into the apartment. “So my home is your home, until you figure out exactly what you wanna do. Um, bathroom’s over there I’m sure you wanna get the rest of that blood off.”

He looked almost nervous to have Steve here. And the absurdity of that made Steve let out a chuckle. And then everything came crashing down on him and he started to laugh in earnest. The demon’s anxious stance just made more laughter bubble forth. What the fuck had his life become?

“Are you okay?”

“I just realized why none of them wanted me to date their daughters.” Steve pushed his hair out of his face. “They knew they’d be giving me to you.” As he laughed the tears started to fall. The demon looked even more shocked but then he came over and wrapped his arms around Steve.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing. Or why I’m crying.”

“Because it’s fucked up man. Like hilariously fucked up. And sometimes you gotta laugh about that crap.” The demon pulled away just enough to look Steve in the eye. “But you’re better than what you just left behind. You proved that by letting them live.”

Steve wiped at his eyes. “Well you already burned a couple of them. Wait, you killed them!”

“Collateral damage when I let my flames loose. I don’t like being touched.” He seemed to realize he was doing just that and raised his hands in the air before taking two steps away from Steve.

“I don’t even know your name. And you would’ve actually killed them for me?”

“Oh I go by Eddie nowadays.” He turned and looked like he was trying to make himself busy by picking things up and putting them down.

“Eddie? Just Eddie?”

“Short for Edifice. Um, did you want that shower?”

“I….” Steve still had questions. But he felt barely functioning right now. Like if he got one more bit of information his brain would explode.

“Steve….You’re free now. That was what you asked for.” The demon, no, Eddie, his name was Eddie, was smiling at him.

“I want….to go to sleep.”

Eddie started to walk away and Steve followed. He led him to a room where the bed took up most of the space.

“It’s yours for tonight. And tomorrow, well it’s all up to you now.”

Steve collapsed against the bed. He vaguely registered his shoes being taken off but soon fell into oblivion.

Part 2

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #i have a whole lore in the back of my head #about how eddie is essentially 911 for summoning #but we'll get into that in part 2

[selya711-twiste]

kissing strangers

The way Rollo kisses you is chaste at first. It's his first time being intimate with anyone and he's rather shy. You had to ease your way into his personal space very slowly. He starts trying to get used to having a person close to him in life. He would prefer to make it quick, and there were times he'd bump his nose into yours. When you two begin to know each other longer, he starts holding you tighter to him and he feels and tastes so desperate when you kiss, but he retains gentleness so as to not scare you off. It's hard not to notice his change in demeanor when appearances are the most important thing to him, even in private. If you point it out, he'll look away and deny it, but then he begins losing even more of his inhibitions. It was gradual, but you feel like it snowballed when you kissed his handkerchief in front of him, a personal belonging that's always pressed against his lips. He knows what you meant by that. When he used to lightly push you away to preserve his peace, now he won't let you go. There are certain days where if you move while he's close to you, he'll grip you thinking you're trying to get away, and there comes that delirious expression you can't ignore… He's obsessed with you now. Rollo is the one initiating it, and then he blames you for tempting him to act like this. When there's no other person in sight, somewhere secluded, you should grow used to anticipating a pair of hands grabbing your shoulders and turning you around to meet the stern gaze of your lover.

On the other hand, Fellow has more experience as an older man. He must've had flings with other people in the past, so he knows just what to do with your lips. In the first stages of his relationship with you, he thinks everything is a game at first. He just treats you like the others, fast-paced and teasing, occasionally lightly grazing your neck with his fangs. He knows you love it when he does that with the way you shudder and even bare your skin for him to mark with kisses. You play along with the fox, and for every time he tricks you, you return the favor. He stole a kiss from you once in passing, so you took his wallet. There's nothing in it, of course. He doesn't know whether to swoon or curse at how you've outsmarted him. He'll only start treating you like a valuable doll when you both start taking it seriously, which took a while to establish. You find him becoming more easily flustered with you as you unearth the real him underneath the layers of lies. His showbiz-like persona starts fading away when you two are close together, and his voice becomes slower and softer... It's more obvious when he's speaking right against your ear. In comparison, nothing about you has changed. "How do I know you're not playing tricks on me again, Fellow?" You pout with your arms crossed. He smiles with his teeth and he stutters a little bit as he places his hand on his heart. "I would never lie to you, my dear, or my name isn't Honest John!" Yeah, right...

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #fellow honest #fellow honest x reader #microsoft word #just needed to kickstart my writing activity again #which is not permanent knowing me #girl help? #??? #is this spicy or what im new here #(friends words not mine) theyre essentially the opposite in relationships #soft turned rough and vice versa #this contents of this post was trapped in a discord server so now im setting it free

[yesokayiknow]

do you ever think about how one of doctor who's most famous time loop episodes (heaven sent) isn't a time loop. like the fact that time is passing normally is a huge plot point

#i'm writing a heaven sent au (well plotting one out. i haven't actually written anything yet don't look at me) #and i was getting ready to deal w paradoxes and then i was like wait a minute. there are no paradoxes. time isn't actually looping here #it isn't even a time loop to twelve since he doesn't remember it until like the last moment #(and i have Thoughts about that #does he actually remember it??? bc like. how. that wasn't him. he didn't do those things #each version that did the loop was essentially a seperate clone #did he leave himself some sort of psychic memory download at the wall??? bc if so. fucked up if true #but also entirely in character tbh) #doctor who #the doctor #twelve #the fact that there's no paradox to deal w makes things less awful for my au 😔 so i will just have to make it worse in other ways 😌

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: dismemberment / ]

I think a lot about how Leo’s rescue could have easily ended in him losing a leg as the portal snaps shut on the Krang still clutching the limb, or, alternatively, only having Leo’s right arm make it out, still held dearly in his brother’s hand as the rest of Leo is left behind. (The latter hits even harder, as it directly parallels his future self in the worst of ways.)

I think a lot about how so many things could have gone wrong during the course of the movie with even a little bit of a change, but it really is harrowing how much of a coin-flip the entirety of the Prison Dimension rescue was.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #dismemberment / #if literally any part of the prison dimension rescue was different it would have ended Very Badly #mikey came in clutch for doing the impossible in the first place #raph grabbing leo and not once letting go was vital #and donnie directly hitting the krang was essential #hell leo having the ability to reach out at all in the state he was in was a miracle #listen I think about the prison dimension a lot if you couldn’t tell #for the next tags: #strangulation mention / #physical trauma induced mutism / #potential death mention / #potential sibling death mention / #barely it mainly focuses on if he lives but / #I also think about how Leo’s trachea could have easilyyy given out as Raph (krangified) was choking him #can you imagine the last words raph hearing from his little brother being I’m sorry? #he’d likely live as the hamato bros are built different but imagine if he straight up can’t talk again after #the bros having no idea what Leo’s plan is but they suddenly feel him disappear with the portal #or also #imagine all he gets out in his hoarse voice is to beg Casey to close the portal before his family HEARS the sudden silence like a knife #even if he gets saved his voice may be wrecked or even gone for good #what am I writing wait- #also for my point on leo losing his arm paralleling his future self #imagine fate being a thing in this world but a VERY situational thing #imagine it makes it so that leo has to lose a limb #but not just that - it also ties his presence directly with the Krang’s - so if the Krang’s somewhere else…so is he

[cebermoth]

So... are we just going to ignore that Home can write...? Was no one going to mention it?? I know Home is living but,, why [and how] can they write

#welcome home puppet show #welcome home #the whole being alive shtick #thats fine #the concept of home being able to literally write and draw threw me off more?? #wally and house have essentially the same signature smile #which is adorable but a little disconcerting #Edit: WALLY WROTE IT BUT IN MY HEART HOME WROTE IT AND THEYRE JUST SIMILAR BC THEYRE BESTIES #ceberthoughts

[magnusbae]

"...You had to be able to show too much of yourself. You had to be just a little bit more honest than you were comfortable with. And if people judged you, if they felt they knew who you were, that was just something that you were going to have to live with. And what was strange is, once I started doing that, and I was expecting to be judged, or shunned, or people’s opinions or to have to deal with things, what I discovered was, actually, their opinions were, we really like this. We love this story. That’s a good story. It felt huge. It felt personal. And I realized that’s because I was being honest about me.“ —Neil Gaiman

#It was such a lovely speech. I really enjoyed hearing it and I wished to have it here as well. You can youtube it. His name and Masterclass. #Neil Gaiman #The Sandman #How many of you squinted and saw Dream. #Neil Gaiman Masterclass #Dream of the Endless #You know what I WILL tag it because and I will explain #You can really see the parts of himself that Neil put into Dream #This interview more than any truly shows you some of that #Dream is essentially a creator of stories too— One who is not good at being honest with himself— One who too has a facility of voices. #Frankly— How old were you when you saw Neil's little 'self insert' OC and went 'Ah yes. Here he is.' #Also the fact that Neil always wears black and has a messy hair. #Love it. #Quote Edit #Writing Advice #Writing Fiction #buns.edits #buns.all

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

#writing #writing community #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #ficlet #writblr #writing prompt #hero/villain #hero whumpee #exhaustion #overworked #villain caretaker #whump #kind of #in case you’re wondering. yes you CAN do this to yourself. it’s completely possible #essentially what happens is if you do a motion (a pull-up) more than your body is capable #it gets mad. this is different from training till failure. this is to failure and then beyond #so while you started using the correct muscle groups you those muscles get tired and despite the tired you don’t stop #so then your body switches to muscles it SHOULDNT BE USINF and then you fuck up your elbows (in the case of pull-ups) #and then you can’t straighten your arms for a week bc the ligaments and tendons and all the little movement parts want to keep it curled in #I’m not a doctor #I’m just a gifted kid who was an athlete who got burnt out and destroyed her body lmao #this is possibly maybe based on true events that occurred #anyways. I’m not a doctor but you can use electrical tape on wounds. yes it sticks. yes it stays. it’s honestly very useful. #electrical tape > bandaids #do not do anything listed here it is BAD. do not blow out your muscles it hurts. properly clean ur injuries. I beg you. #don’t get injured at all #thank you to my friend who went “pull-up’ competition and then watched me create this angst #love u besties. drink water. go to sleep. summon demons. ❤️ self care

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC The Crying Crown

So the ring of rage and the crown of fire are sentient

In the episode “Reign Storm” Skulker gives us information on Pariah Dark

Notice the wording

“Control the entities contained within the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage”

There is something contained within them, not just a power boost, but in controlling the beings within the crown and ring Pariah gains power

So this implies the crown and ring each have a will of their own, some kind of consciousness. They are sentient (though perhaps not sapient)

So whatever happened to them?

Well, if we recall the end of Reign Storm, Pariah got locked away with just the ring, and Vlad flew off with the crown of Fire

So we have a corrupt Billionaire with many shady business dealings, with a sentient artifact in his possession that probably isn’t very happy about that fact, especially as Vlad attempts to control the crown

Enter one detective John Jones aka Martian Manhunter aka a gosh darn telepath

Now, there are probably legitimate reasons the police might investigate Vlad, but J’onn is probably going to get sidetracked when his mind connects to an ancient sentient artifact that’s very upset

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #writing #writing prompt #martian manhunter #crown of Fire #also might consider what anti ghost defenses do when trying to deity shift through them #they operate under different mechanisms essentially #but are still designed to be phase proof #so would he be able to go through or not? #I think it would drive Vlad crazy if a ‘ghost’ got through his security

[pigeonwit]

“Davey – Day, c'mon, y’ain’t makin’ any sense…” Jack says gently, rubbing his hand across Davey’s shoulders. “I mean, d’ya just not like her? ‘Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, sometimes a girl just ain’t the one-”

“But she was.” Davey insists, and he feels all the more like a child for it. “She – she was smart, a-and funny, and beautiful, and if there was ever a girl I could’ve liked, could’ve – could’ve been with, it’d be her, b-but I… I just…”

He takes a painful breath, his voice crushed - like shards of glass - into his throat.

“Jackie, I don’t…” He whispers as hot tears scald his cheeks. “I think there’s something wrong with me?”

His voice pitches up at the end like a question – but he knows the moment the words are said, the moment the thought is finally put into existence, that it’s not. There’s something wrong with him. He knows it. He knows it. And now Jack does, too.

#WOE rbr 5 snippet be upon ye!!!! #id say this bad boy's about 2/3rds of the way done #but the last third is. gonna take a while to stitch together. i got MIDTERMS babyyyy #so you're welcome to have this lovely bit of comphet davey i've been saving since. yeah probably since 2019? #this is probably one of the few RBR scenes that have stayed the same through the 4-and-a-bit years i've been chewing on this fic #the writing has changed a fair bit as i've progressed but the dialogue + the actions + the function to the plot is essentially the same #davey jacobs #jack kelly #newsies #uksies #david jacobs #pigeon scribbles #javey #javid #run boy run

[comraderoscoes]

anthony taking a picture of lewis (you're doing amazing sweetie)

#lewis hamilton #anthony hamilton #race: idfk #it's the way you could write an entire essay ab these two but essentially it's a dad who loves his son #and a son who's made his dad immeasurably proud #these aren't v pretty but cba. im hungry #anyway drop the pic king #and the phone 🥲

[cuubism]

I’m BEGGING for more “retired!Dream opens up a weird magic fey bookshop” au. Its so intriguing!

you are in luck. i wrote more

--

"So," Hob says, leaning in the doorway of Dream's study-of-sorts, "much as I love the recommendations, do you mind if I browse?"

He's taken, recently, to meeting Dream on the upper floor of the shop, bringing coffee and watching Dream label and sort his new books in incomprehensible categories. He usually gets some interesting book facts out of it, too, or strange little stories -- "this book washed up on the Sardinian shore some years ago", "this was signed by a long-dead author, I've been curious to see how long it will take for a collector to find it," "an old man bestowed this upon me on the eve of his death, it's the only copy in existence" and so on -- not to mention the pleasure of Dream's company. He is so odd, and so engaging.

Dream looks up at him now with a tiny smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes. "Of course. Find whatever you wish."

Hob has been wondering if Dream's serendipitous knack with books will extend to browsing, to random finds. Only one way to know.

He leaves Dream to his labeling and goes to wander the shop.

This time, he does get swallowed in Oneiromancy, where he finds Sleeping Worlds, a book about dream travel. Then he wanders deeper into the shop, passes categories like, "Cat Training," CLOCKS, "Mathematics: Easy -> Impossible", and, "♾". Of course he goes into Infinity, and picks up The Birth of Numbers, a book whose text starts in the center of the page and spirals outwards, font growing larger as the book goes on, and in another section called "Romance: DIFFICULT LEVEL" -- whatever the hell difficult means -- he picks up a tiny book that's just one line, one syllable on each page.

I

on

ly

want

ed

you

to

see.

God, Dream's shop is weird.

Dream finds him there some time later, deep in Sleeping Worlds. "I see you've had a productive day."

"Yeah, sorry, lost track of time."

Dream keeps looking at him with a little smirk.

Worry darts through Hob's stomach. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Midnight," says Dream, with satisfaction. "I've absorbed you."

Yeah, no kidding. Hob scrambles to his feet. "Jesus, Dream, sorry. I'll get out of your hair."

"No matter. This is what The Library is for."

Hob goes to hand him the books, and he waves a hand. "Keep them, I will get them back eventually."

Ominous. Great.

"Gonna break into my house and retrieve them?" Hob asks. He probably wouldn't even mind, to be honest.

"Nothing so alarming." He gestures Hob forward, and Hob follows, lets Dream walk him out.

It is, indeed, pitch dark outside on their shared street. Hob's supposed to open the cafe at 6. Whoops.

"Thanks for the books, Dream," he says. "And for. Ten hours of distraction, apparently."

Dream leans in the narrow doorway of his shop. "Of course. Come browse... anytime."

And he melts back into the shadows as Hob steps down onto the street.

--

Hob wonders if he's an idiot for wanting to ask Dream out. Dream is clearly some kind of other thing, and hanging around him did kind of get Hob cursed. But the way he bites his lip when he's making notes in books is so cute. His unerring ability to make perfect book selections is both strange and endearing -- even the books Hob had picked up on his own had been exactly what he hadn't known he was looking for. Hob's heart picks up every time he steps into the cafe.

But if he's to ask out Dream, his own personal weird bookshop creature, he has to do it right.

And he knows how.

The next time Dream comes in for coffee, Hob sits down across from him and hands him a book. Dream looks at it in surprise, and Hob has the sudden thought that as the all-powerful selector of tomes, he probably isn't gifted books himself.

The book is called, Broken Hands. Hob had pulled it off his own shelf. Dream doesn't ask him what it is, instead he flips open the cover and reads, as Hob had hoped he would.

The first page of Broken Hands has the following paragraph:

Kissing her hand, he came to know himself. Kissing her mouth, he came to know them both. When they went onward, for now only in his mind, he kissed more of her, and more, and more, and then, he knew her. He wanted to know her.

Dream reads it, and looks back up at him. Offers a tiny smile. Yes, Hob knew he would get it.

"You have something you would like to ask me, Hob Gadling?" he says softly.

"You have something you want to answer?"

Dream takes a long sip of his coffee, but looks at Hob over the rim of the mug, a smile in his eyes. Then he swipes away the milk foam from his upper lip with his tongue and says, "I'd say that you are very foolish, to still wish to associate with someone who did, in a sense, get you cursed. But that I find myself grateful for this foolishness. People do often come back to the library, once they find it-- but they don't often come back for me."

It makes Hob sad to imagine--Dream the perennial custodian of The Library, shepherd of its patrons, gifting small touches of coincidence and magic, but always in the background, a bridge and not a destination. Meanwhile, Hob likes the strange books, but it's Dream he keeps wanting to hover around, to lure back into his own space.

He dares to take Dream's hand and squeezes. "...So?"

"I'd say that I'd like to get coffee with you, if you know a place."

Cheeky thing. "Yeah, there's a Starbucks a couple blocks down," Hob says, gesturing, and Dream chuckles. Hob's still holding his hand, and brings it to his lips for a light kiss, and gets to watch as Dream's cheeks tint pink. His heart lifts in his chest. So easy and light.

"You're gorgeous," he says, and that blush deepens. "I'd suffer even Starbucks for you."

"You would suffer much, then," says Dream.

"We'll get our Starbucks and wander around WHSmith and have a fabulous date," Hob says, and Dream's face goes through the most exquisite journey of horror.

"You demand too much," he says, faint. "You enjoy my suffering."

"Little bit, yeah." Hob's certainly enjoying the reaction.

Then Dream looks at him in challenge. "Very well," he declares. "You've set the date. Now you must follow through."

Hob can't even spare a thought to the distasteful activities he's now gotten himself into--he has a date with Dream. "So that's a yes?"

Dream smiles again, a tiny, pleased thing. "It is a yes, Hob Gadling."

--

They do go to Starbucks. Hob is treated to the glorious sight of Dream sipping a pink drink out of a long straw, which is so worth dealing with the coffee. Then he indeed drags Dream to WHSmith, where Dream stands in the middle of the brightly-lit store, spins in a circle staring at carefully lined book displays with wide eyes, says, "Hell would be more merciful," and bolts away. Hob follows him, laughing.

Outside, he finds Dream leaning in the shade of a tree, looking vaguely shell-shocked. Hob really shouldn't keep laughing at him, but he can't help it. "Were you traumatized permanently by the big chain store?"

"Yes," says Dream, but, despite the perilous adventure, smiles. "You are a cruel man, Hob Gadling."

"Nah. Just harnessed the fluorescent lighting to chase you back into the safety of my arms."

"Oh?" Dream pushes off the tree and steps closer, until he's standing just before Hob, close enough to touch. "Was that the goal?"

Hob takes the leap that's offered and touches Dream's cheek with a light hand. "Did it work?"

This close, in the midday light, Dream's eyes are almost grey. The shade of the tree dapples his skin. It's still odd to see him out of the contained space of his bookshop, of Hob's cafe, but it does make this feel more real. A part of the world beyond the spun-sugar story of their orbiting binary stars.

Dream rests a feather light hand on Hob's chest. Studies Hob from under his eyelashes. And instead of answering, he leans up and, with that same light touch, presses his lips to Hob's.

Hob revels in the mere touch of him for a moment, but doesn't let it stand at light for long. He takes Dream's face between his hands and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Dream's mouth, swallowing Dream's hum of pleasure. If only he could put into the kiss what he had felt when Dream had handed him Nightingales. A sudden finding of something long lost that was always meant to be rooted in his heart.

When they part, he makes good on a promise and does pull Dream into his arms. It feels like a great indulgence. It also feels right.

"Make me a solemn promise, Hob Gadling," Dream says against Hob's cheek, arms wrapped around his back.

"Anything."

"Never take me here ever again."

Hob laughs into his hair, squeezing him tight. "What could one possibly want from here when The Library exists?"

This seems to greatly gratify Dream, who preens in Hob's arms. Hob kisses the shell of his ear, then his cheek, then they part again, and he takes Dream's hand. "I'm glad you expanded your horizons with me for a day."

"And now I will shrink them again," says Dream. "Except for one." To which he runs his thumb along Hob's lower lip, a touch Hob sways forward to follow almost drunkenly as Dream smirks. "Come."

He starts leading Hob back in the direction of their quiet street, and far far away from any fluorescent lighting, and Hob follows, touching his lips fondly. And lets himself be cautiously, tentatively hopeful that this will continue spiraling up into something real, because he wants it so bad. Curses and all.

#hob brilliantly asking dream out by giving him a book that basically said 'i wish to know you carnally' but hey it worked!! #and i'm sure he will know dream carnally soon #3 likes and next time they get to explore each others bodies #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #thank u louise for the extra special british accuracy in this one XD it is essential that my silly drabble stories channel the TRUE #and ACCURATE experience of the united kingdom. i'll die otherwise