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soulmate-game · 3 years

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

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For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

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Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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nbrook29 · 3 years

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99 🖤🖤

Hello there! You’re officially my last dialogue prompt 🤩 I’m sorry this took so long, anon, I hope you’re gonna like it at least a little 🤓

I don’t take prompts for this challenge anymore. Just wanted to put that out there 😇 There are so many amazing ones on that list, but as of now I have 3 WIPs and one additional one in the works and I’d like to finish them before wtfock ends 😅

Anywho, here you go!

99. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

* * *

Robbe is going to kill Moyo.

In fact, he's going to kill all three of his so-called friends because none of them protested when Moyo, tipsy and on his way to drunk, announced that this party sucked and was in dire need of some spice.

He wishes he had listened to his past self and stayed home just like he had originally planned. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, editing videos or maybe spent in bed rewatching Romeo and Juliet in peace with no broers around to mock his movie choice while stuffing his face with onion chips and pretending the movie does not make him emotional, no sir. The wetness in his eyes must be sweat, not tears.

Then, after the movie would have ended, his sulking levels high, it would be time for his favorite activity of recent - daydreaming about reality in which he actually had the fucking guts to make a proper move instead of turning red everytime a certain someone was in his close proximity; smiling at him with that perfect sweet lovely smile that turned his already gorgeous features so much more beautiful that Robbe could weep.

And doesn’t that sound like a magnificent evening?

It may sound kinda lame, Robbe is a man enough to admit that, but the prospect of spending the night watching his friends salivating over girls they can’t get being the alternative wouldn't be particularly alluring to anyone, he guesses. Especially since he never partakes in that salivating part himself, instead chugging one beer after another and playing his designated role of a wallflower.

Story of his life.

The whole thing just plain sucks, because it’s not like his friends aren’t well aware of the fact that Robbe’s interests lie elsewhere and that he’s usually bored out of his mind at those parties. But when there’s at least a semi-attractive girl around them they don’t care about anything else but getting her number and Robbe’s not exactly their priority then. In fact, he could well enough not be there at all and it wouldn’t make much difference. It happens every time they drag him along to those parties and every time he just stands there, rolling his eyes on their embarrassing attempts of flirting.

Not like he’s the master of flirting himself, but even he’s not capable of stooping as low as they usually do.

This time, he reluctantly agreed to come to this one, against his better judgement, after Jens bugged him about it for their entire biology class, trying to convince him it was going to be more of a small gathering rather than a party. And frankly speaking, he did that just to make him shut up so mrs Jansen stopped glaring at him. Like he was the one running his mouth.

Once Robbe said the magic words “I’ll be there” there was no way of getting out of it. Still, his plan was to come by for an hour or two to get the broers of his back, drink a few beers, talk to Jana maybe, and then quietly leave when everyone would be too drunk and too busy tonguing at each other's tonsils to notice he's gone.

But to his surprise, the party turned out not to be the typical banger they usually attended. It wasn’t even that bad and he was kinda having fun since he wasn't forced to play the guys' sidekick-gay-friend this time around and instead was dragged by Zoe to the kitchen to drink shots with her, Jana and Luca right after he arrived.

However, parties are not really his scene in general so when it started getting really late he finished his last Buttery Nipple shot composed by Luca (don’t ask) and was just about to make an apologetic face at the girls and say his goodbyes.

But then Noor and Brit arrived.

With him.

And Robbe almost swallowed his tongue.

Nobody should have the right to look this good but there he was, laughing with Milan in the hall while taking his signature leather jacket off, running a hand through his smooth like silk hair (Robbe's convinced it's indeed very silky) to ruffle it a little like it ever needed any styling, and in general looking like he had just walked out of Robbe's dream straight into Milan's apartment.

Sander Driesen.

The reason for Robbe’s cheeks being permanently stained pink as of late.

They met at one of those after school clubs led by Amber several weeks ago that Robbe came to only because he agreed (after pretty much being blackmailed into it) to play Aaron’s wingman in winning Amber’s heart.

He was gone as soon as those green eyes met his and the boy in front of him, wearing a black Bowie t-shirt and a leather jacket, shook his hand while smiling a little unsurely but still friendly, never breaking their eye contact as he introduced himself in a honey-like voice that penetrated every cell of his body, knees buckling a little, heart stuttering, the whole shebang.

He’s still thanking god he managed to hold back the whimper that was about to get out when he was saying his own name back.

Needless to say, the meeting became much more bearable after that.

Even having to witness Aaron’s cringeworthy attempts of gaining Amber’s attention weren’t that bad anymore. Not when they made Sander chuckle under his breath and catch his eye over Amber’s shoulder, winking at Robbe with a mischief dancing in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his own laugh at bay.

And then, Amber came up with some stupid “love excercise” or whatever the fuck she called it and made them all hold hands in a circle. She claimed it released stress and spread positivity or some other bullshit, but Robbe was convinced it was just a ploy she came up with to hold the school’s number one fuckboy Senne’s hand (who, if Robbe had to guess, also wasn’t there out of his own free will).

Robbe wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, especially with people he had no business of touching in the first place so the whole thing was beyond painful. Thankfully, Jana came to his rescue, snatching his right hand as they exchanged smirks over Amber’s lofty speech about positive energy filling their bodies.

But then someone else gently took his other hand and when he went to inspect who it was, annoyance already starting to creep in, his mouth went dry, eyes going up, up, up the person’s leather-clad arm before stopping on Sander’s face, looking far too entertained.

The boy took an overly deep breath, eyes closed and face feigning seriousness, breathing out loudly.

“Ahh, I can already feel that rush of energy,” Sander leaned in to whisper to him, a teasing tilt to his voice making Robbe giggled at his antics.

“I guess Amber was right then.”

“No no, I don’t think it’s Amber’s techniques, I just think it’s because of you.”

Robbe just gaped at this shameless flirting, receiving another wink when caught blushing deep pink. Sander seemed unfazed though, totally chill, like saying lame lines and winking at boys was in his everyday repertoire. It definitely wasn’t like that for Robbe, and definitely not from boys as cute as Sander.

He should have probably rolled his eyes at him, called him cocky and full of himself. And yet.

There was something about Sander’s demeanor that screamed it was all a facade, and that underneath there was a huge dork that came out right after that guard was let down. Robbe couldn’t even be annoyed with the smug winking because it was adorned with such a cute smile that it called for a fond eye roll rather than scoffing.

Before he could form at least a half cool response, Amber started shushing all of them with a bossy face, glaring at every person that dared to make a sound. So with a rush of sudden boldness, Robbe just squeezed Sander’s hand and looked at him from under his lashes, biting his lip in an attempt at being coy (and cringing at himself internally) despite his body thrumming with nerves standing this close to Sander, and for some unknown reason it brought the desired effect.

Sander kept smiling at him surreptitiously throughout the entire meeting, making him laugh with his playful faces at some of Amber’s more ridiculous statements, and it felt like they had an entire conversation even though they didn’t exchange one word during that half an hour.

When they were finally free to go home it was after 21, Robbe realized with a whine. After they all collected their things and were ready to leave, Sander turned around in the doorway, searching for Robbe’s eyes while ignoring the rest of their friends crowding against the door, and when Robbe glanced furtively into his direction his expression turned almost bashful as he said bye, Robin.

And then again with the winking.

Good god this boy.

And how cute it was he couldn’t actually wink? It looked more like a reinforced blinking, but he still looked cute doing it.

Once Robbe came back home that evening, thoughts occupied with bleached hair and the smell of leather jacket, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Sander’s social media. In just one sitting he gathered a handful of information, finding out Sander was a year older and recently transferred to his school (which would explain how he had missed him in the corridors). He also had a photo with Amber down at the bottom of his profile and from the caption it seemed like they were cousins.

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the ‘follow’ button, but he didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he just closed the app, throwing his phone on his bed in exasperation feeling sorry for himself and his inexperience in talking to boys.

The universe decided to be graceful for him for once in his life though and put Sander on his path again only 3 days later.

Like every Saturday afternoon Robbe was in the skate park with the broers, taking piss of one another’s skills and trying out new tricks while basking in the October sun that felt more like it was full on spring rather than the beginning of fall. He was in the middle of showing off some of his best tricks to the sounds of his friends hollering when he caught sight of bleached hair in his peripheral, almost falling straight on his ass. But luck was on his side and he avoided making a spectacle out of himself.

Once he was safely on the ground, skateboard under his foot, he glanced in the direction of white hair one more time to see Sander lowering his vintage camera and whistling, making an impressed face and promptly causing Robbe to downcast his eyes bashfully.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Robin.”

Robbe sighed. “It’s Robbe.”

“I know, but isn’t that a cute nickname?”

Robbe ducked his head, smiling a little to himself, cursing the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this annoying?”

For a moment, Sander seemed to be taken aback, but then he must have noticed the teasing glint in Robbe’s eyes because he relaxed visibly, confidence back on his face.

Then, easily and offhandedly, he said, “No, just with very certain people.”

If Robbe had any doubts before about Sander taking immense pleasure out of teasing him, he didn’t anymore. He was flashed with another mischievous smile and then Sander nodded at the bowl.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Robbe scratched at the back of his neck self-conciously, ignoring his friends’ intrigued faces and praying they didn’t say anything stupid. “To be honest, these aren’t even that difficult, anybody could do them...”

“Pff, I tried this skateboarding thing once and let me tell you, I was an absolute disaster so don’t sell yourself short.” Sander nudged at his shoulder with a knowing look, the contact sending a shiver through Robbe’s entire body.

“So what are you doing here if you suck at it?” He sent him a toothy grin when Sander gaped at his brazen words, faux-scandalized.

He then lifted his camera swiftly and took a photo of Robbe’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m only around this deadly thing to take artsy pictures of cute boys.”

Looking very proud of himself, Sander laughed at his indignant spluttering, refusing to show Robbe the photo at first, giving in a few seconds later under his killer pout (Sander’s words).

“So, is this where you spend your afternoons?” he asked casually once they sat down at a nearby bench, Sander scrolling through his camera roll and showing him the photos.

Robbe nodded, watching Aaron from afar attempting the backside ollie and failing miserably. It pulled out a snort from Sander.

“Well, you’re definitely better at it than your friends.”

Elbowing him in the side as a sign of loyalty to his friends, he replied. “Jens is actually better than me.”

Sander sent him a curious look. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?! Eww, no! I have way better taste than that.” It’s not like he’d admit he had crushed on his best friend a year ago. So, hopefully, he sounded convincing.

Sander lifted his hands in surrender, laughing at his outburst. “Okay, okay, message received, only the cutest boys for you,” he paused, biting at his lip to hold his smirk. “Makes sense,” he muttered under his breath, but Robbe heard him anyway.

Later that day, he got a instagram notification that informed him that earthlingoddity was following him as of now and damn if that didn’t make Robbe’s heart beat faster.

earthlingoddity sent you a link

S: Considering today’s unfortunate incident, I made you a bowie playlist, need to teach the youngsters like you the real music 😎😏

The first message from Sander made him scoff, but he rolled his eyes at himself anyway when he remembered his conversation with him at the skatepark, asking about the shirt and prompting Sander to quiz him about David Bowie’s songs.

Robbe hid his face in his hands at the mere memory.

Space Cowboy.

How embarrassing.

Sander tried so hard not to burst out laughing at Robbe’s confusion when his answer was met with a blank stare, bless him.

R: So you're one of those people?

S: What people?

R: Self-righteous hipsters 😜

S: Now now Robin

No need for names 😩

R: It's Robbe

R o b b e

S: Okay Robin ;)

R: 🙄

Unbelievable

S: So

What's up? 🙃

They kept up at this casual texting for 2 recent weeks, getting to know each other, and Sander confirming that he does, in fact, have a soft side. Robbe also realized he was a much bolder person when no face to face interaction was required when he had more time before responding to Sander. Then there were the occasional “hellos” at school when they crossed paths in the halls, but so far their friendship, if he could even call it that, hadn’t evolved further.

In fact, this party was the first time Robbe had seen him in a week.

Their eyes met for a few short seconds and Robbe waved at him, immediately after wanting to bang his head at the table because who the fuck waves these days?

Sander didn’t seem to mind this dorky display at all, beaming at him from across the hallway and not paying much attention to Milan who was talking his ear off. A second later, he was out of Robbe’s sight, dragged by Milan and the girls to the living room, leaving him staring longingly after him.

Before Robbe got his shit together and on shaky legs went there to maybe squeeze out a few words to him, Moyo was already on his way of arranging people into a circle and producing a bottle to spin.

What a bad fucking timing.

This was so not Robbe’s idea of fun so he started to surreptitiously backing off to the hall to slide out the door but Jana, the traitor, grabbed his arm and sat him next to her, seeming very excited about the game.

It’s not like he was the only one reluctant to play though. Sander’s face looked rather bemused too.

“Come oooon, Sander,” Noor groaned at him, pulling at his sleeve relentlessly to make him plop his butt on her left side. “You promised to leave that sulky slash lovesick face at home and have fun. This is fun!”

“I think we have a different definition of fun, darling,” he retorted, his gaze sweeping through the half-drunk faces, stopping at Robbe’s for a millisecond. It was so quick he thought he imagined the apprehensive look on his face, but then Sander did sit down, letting out a long-suffering sigh and promptly avoided his gaze throughout the game. Which was clearly an intentional effort because they sat exactly opposite each other.

To say Robbe was confused would be an understatement.

And that’s how he finds himself here, sitting in a circle amongst his friends and several strangers who keep hollering and shoving tongues in each other’s throats. He had one close call when the bottle spinned by a redhead girl almost pointed at him, making him hold his breath but then stopping on Moyo sitting on his other side, who was way more eager to fill the deed.

When it’s finally Sander’s turn to spin the bottle, Robbe's heart starts beating double time and he twists his fingers nervously. He realizes with dread that there is no good outcome of this situation; if it lands on any of his friends or any of those few people he only vaguely recognizes, he’s going to have to watch Sander play tonsil tennis with them and his stomach turns unpleasantly with something akin to jealousy at the mere thought.

But if it lands on him?

Oh god.

The bottle is spinning already, Robbe having missed the moment Sander put it in motion, too busy wrangling with his thoughts about what he should do. The fact Sander has been avoiding his eyes ever since they started this stupid game makes him even more nervous about the whole thing.

Then the bottle stops, pointing at him so accurately that it leaves no room for question.

And Sander’s face positively falls.

Sitting near him Jens and Moyo are giving him subtle thumbs up and not so subtle shit-eating grins with Aaron next to them clearly confused at their behavior all the while Sander looks like he’s in pain.

Eyes glued to the floor, body rigid, looking like he’d want to be anywhere but here.

People are staring at them, waiting for something to happen and Robbe feels nauseous.

And so humiliated.

How could he misinterpret Sander’s behavior so much? And it’s not even that, not really. Does the idea of kissing him disgusts him that much he can’t even give him one stupid kiss to avoid putting Robbe on the spot?

From the corner of his eye he can see Noor elbowing Sander in the side and there’s an entire conversation happening between them without one word being uttered.

Then, several things happen at once. The boys let go of any subtlety and start whooping and hollering like they want to force Sander to make some kind of move, there’s a loud whack coming from the kitchen where one of the couples went to continue their PDA so Jana and Zoe get up to check the damage and then Adi, who has been rummaging through the liquor cabinet for the last ten minutes, yells that he found a ten year old whiskey, making the broers scrambling off the floor to get their hands on it.

The rest of the people are still here with them though. Still staring. And Sander still seems to be rooted to the spot.

And Robbe has had enough.

Ignoring Noor’s soft Robbe, he gets up and with a heavy heart almost runs to the door, putting his jacket on in a haste, frustration and shame cursing through his body as he runs down the stairs two step at a time, wanting to get outside as fast as he can.

The cold air washes over him once he reaches the entrance and he breaths in shakily, feeling his eyes welling up despite his hardest efforts not to cry.

It just hurts. It really hurts. And if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that there have been witnesses to his humiliation is a small part of the reason why he feels this way. It’s about the fact that it was Sander.

Sander. This boy who let him believe there may actually be someone interested in him. In that way. Sander, who flirted with him, complimented him, smiled at him, listened to him and sent him Bowie playlists.

Sander, who he felt more connected to recently than to any of his friends.

He wipes at his eyes angrily, scoffing at the fact that this asshole was able to make him cry, when he hears rushed steps on the sidewalk behind him.

“Robbe!”

Walking faster, he tries to ignore the sound until there’s a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. He turns around ready to blow out in Sander’s face but the boy is faster.

“I’m so sorry for that,” he pants, voice tinted with desperation, apologies written across his face as his eyes flit all over Robbe’s like he’s trying to read his mind.

But Robbe only lets out a humorless laugh. “No worries, I understand, you were very clear. Point taken,” he sneers, starting to walk again.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sander pleads with him, taking his hand in his own to keep him from leaving. Robbe wants to pull it back, but the distressed look in Sander’s eyes makes him hesitate. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be a part of some stupid game. Not when I spent weeks trying to come up with a perfect scenario for our first kiss in my head.”

Robbe promptly loses his breath at his confession.

“You wanted to kiss me before?”

“Ever since I saw you,” Sander confirms in a small voice. His demeanor lacks the confidence Robbe got acquainted with, ripped of any trace of the usual conckiness. Instead, Sander appears almost shy, biting his lip nervously as if waiting for a blow and heart-breaking rejection.

There won’t be a rejection though. Not tonight.

Without second-guessing himself, Robbe takes that one step that still separates them and seals their lips together, hands drifting to Sander’s rosy cheeks on their own, like there was a magnet pulling them in. Sander is stunned at first, his lips unresponsive, but it only takes about three seconds for his brain to catch up and then.

Then.

Then there’s Chernobyl in Robbe’s head.

Fuck.

The way this boy kisses.

Phew.

Robbe’s brain shuts off as Sander’s mouth moves over his with intention, sliding together in a rhythm that leaves him breathless. It’s almost impossible to keep all the noises that threaten to escape inside, one small whimper getting out without Robbe’s accord, but it’s okay because it gets swallowed by Sander’s unyielding lips right after it leaves Robbe’s, making Sander pull him even closer.

Eventually, they have to stop, getting dizzy from the lack of air. When their mouths do separate though it’s only for a centimeter and they keep panting in that small space between them, soon breaking out in quiet giggles.

“I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you too. Ever since that stupid meeting,” Robbe admits, feeling brave and like he’s floating on air, no confession scary enough right now. Sander looks very pleased with his words, and Robbe can feel the telltales of his regular confident smile coming back to his face under his lips when Sander pecks him softly.

Then, he draws back, regarding Robbe with eyes full of mischief.

“I only joined to meet you.”

That makes Robbe cock his brow in surprise and he searches his face for a lie or at least a joke, but he doesn’t find any. “You saw me before?”

There’s a pause and then Sander’s smile turns softer. “I saw you the first day of school.”

And, wow. He did not expect such a turn of events.

“You were sitting at a lunch table with your friends, deep in thought, looking so beautiful you took my breath away. It felt like I saw an angel.”

Blood floods Robbe’s cheek and he drops his eyes under Sander’s intense gaze, because he’s not used to such praise, or praise whatsoever. And then there’s Sander, looking at him like he’s something precious, like he hung the moon and stars, touching him so gently and kissing him so passionately and Robbe feels like passing out.

Sander must have sensed he was getting overwhelmed because he chuckles quietly and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumb sweeping under his eye in a soothing motion as he leaves a few small kisses on his other cheek, melting Robbe in a pile of goo right there on the sidewalk, quiet night around them.

Once he pulls himself together, he can’t resist the tugging at the corners of his mouth and a full-blown smile blooms on his face that’s instantly matched by Sander’s own.

“You know, I don’t think I ever played spin the bottle before but I’d give it zero stars on booking.com,” he declares suddenly pulling a laugh out of Robbe. “I was so scared I’m gonna have to watch you kiss somebody else, phew!” He places a hand on his chest comically, turning on the dramatics. “My poor heart wouldn’t take it, Robin!”

And fuck, he’s so cute that Robbe can only laugh at this (his?) dork, fondly rolling eyes at his antics.

“Yeah, I didn’t want anybody to kiss you either. And it’s Robbe,” he adds with a long-suffering sigh, futilely, he’s sure, but it’s still worth it because Sander’s cheek in tongue expression lets him know the boy loves to rile him up and is not going to stop anytime soon.

Still, to wipe off the smug smile for the time being he pulls him back into a kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket and Sander doesn’t exactly protest such. The second kiss is slower, more thorough, but still mind blowing enough for Robbe to feel heat tugging at his stomach.

“Will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow? Or any other time you’re free? Please?” Sander whispers in the small space between them after they finally break apart, foreheads resting against each other and fireworks going on in Robbe’s brain. Despite them standing so close Robbe can see Sander’s face pretty clear, and he can see his hopeful but tentative expression as he waits for him to answer, eyes growing unsure with each second of silence.

Not wanting to keep him in suspense anymore, he gives his parted lips one more lingering kiss, too weak to resist them when they shine so prettily in the street light above them. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

#wtfock #og easter eggs because it's cute af #😌

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riversofmars · 3 years

Text

So for today's update, seeing as I'm trying to give all my WIPs equal love: back to the headmistress and her sheep farmer! Here is part two! <3 Weather continues to be shite in West Yorkshire, hope it's better where you are!

Rating M (language and sexual themes)

TW: reference past abuse (but not a lot)

Read below or on AO3

Home Is Not A Place - Part 2: The Storm

“F-Bloody cold, bastard weather,“ Gillian groaned as she slammed the door shut. It had been storming all day, and she was soaked to the bone from being out on the farm.

“Gillian?“ Caroline appeared in the hallway, mug in hand and wrapped in a large woolly poncho. It was Saturday and she was counting her blessings that she had no reason to leave the house. Flora was staying with Greg in Manchester this weekend, and Raff and Ellie were spending the weekend with Ellie’s mother who was helping them house-shop. With Gillian out on the yard, Caroline had been left to enjoy the peace and quiet and taken the opportunity to catch up on her reading in front of the fire. At least that’s what she had been doing until she had been interrupted by the sheep farmer’s return and her colourful curses.

“Don’t even f-bloody say anything!“ Gillian snapped, peeling off her coat which had done sweet fuck all to protect her from the rain.

“For God’s sake, Gillian,“ Caroline chose to comment - regardless of her warning - upon realising the state she was in. Gillian’s hair stuck to her cheeks that were red from the cold, and her clothes were dripping. “What have you been doing?“ Caroline demanded to know and picked up the coat that Gillian had abandoned on the floor in her stroppy mood. She followed the sheep farmer into the living room and put the coat over a chair by the fire.

“Bloody foxes bothering sheep again,“ Gillian huffed, and the frequency of her curses told Caroline everything she needed to know about her mood.

“And that couldn’t have waited till the storm had passed?“ Caroline crossed her arms in front of her chest, like she might with an unruly student she expected an explanation from.

“Can’t do with losing any more to ‘em,“ Gillian mumbled, dropping her scarf onto the chair with the coat, but avoided meeting the headteacher’s eyes. She knew she was right. She should have come back inside upon finishing all the strictly necessary tasks and not faffed about going after a fox that she still hadn’t managed to shoot.

“You’re gonna catch your death, if you’re not careful,“ Caroline scolded, willing her voice to remain steady and not get distracted when Gillian pulled her shirt off revealing a tank top that clung to her body. Her shoulders were strong, despite her small frame, from years of working on the farm. Caroline wondered what it would be like to hold on to them if Gillian decided to put her strong hands to good use.

“What? And leave you in charge of farm, don’t think so. Gonna take a bit more than a storm to knock me out, you should know that by now.“

“I do know that, yes,“ Caroline had to agree. Her period of peace and quiet was over. Gillian was like a whirlwind of chaos and emotion but Caroline couldn’t pretend to be annoyed by that anymore. “Get yourself changed and sit by the fire, I’ll put the kettle on,“ she announced after brief consideration. “I’m not nursing you when you can’t get out of bed.“

“Oh that’s a shame, when nothing would make me happier than you waiting on me hand and foot,“ Gillian smirked and Caroline rolled her eyes.

“I bet,“ she huffed and made her way to the kitchen, allowing herself a moment to contemplate how nice it might be to dap a cold flannel to Gillian’s brow and smooth her hair behind her ears… She indulged the fantasy for the time it took her to fill the kettle with water and set it to boil. Then she glanced over into the living area and her heart nearly stopped. She gave a completely undignified squeak that drew Gillian’s attention, so she quickly followed it up with: “Jesus, Gillian, talk about boundaries!“ She couldn’t very well just remain standing there, watching Gillian strip down to her underwear, without shooting a suitably shocked comment her way.

“Shit, Caroline, I thought you’re making tea,“ the sheep farmer exclaimed, which was rich considering the fact that the living and cooking area were connected. She reached for a t-shirt to cover herself up but Caroline couldn’t pull her eyes off her the whole time.

“It’s open-plan!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and Gillian huffed as she turned around, fishing for dry trousers in a pile of clean washing that had been dumped onto one of the sofas and was to be ironed at a later date. This, of course, required her to bend over, and Caroline watched with fascination and dread as she did so. Inwardly, the headteacher reprimanded herself, sternly, for the thoughts that crossed her mind. She was determined that she would not, under any circumstances, share them with anyone or ever act upon them. She wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse.

“I couldn’t be arsed to go upstairs when there’s a pile of ironing right here,“ Gillian was quick to justify herself as she pulled on a pair of jeans and struggled to do so as her skin was still damp.

“You never lock the door either, anyone could have walked in.“ Caroline gestured towards the front of the house, trying to distract herself from her intrusive thoughts.

“Everyone is out, and our parents would have rung first if they wanted to pop round,“ Gillian shot back quickly and turned to face her again once halfway decent.

“Right,“ Caroline huffed, fully aware she had lost the argument and turned back to the kitchen to carry on making the tea and distract herself of the image of Gillian’s lean frame, water glistening on her toned stomach and soft curve of her breasts and… Well, Caroline wasn’t exactly distracting herself from it, she committed it to memory, allowing herself a moment to appreciate it in the privacy of her own mind.

“Sorry I’m… guess, I’m still not quite used to you being here all’t time,“ Gillian’s voice drew her back to the present. Caroline looked back around to find Gillian glancing across the room to her, her brow knitted into a frown of concern. It was that frown that she made whenever she wondered if she had done something wrong. Perhaps she wondered if she had made Caroline uncomfortable, rather than aroused.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not… trying to make you uncomfortable in your own home,“ Caroline was quick to respond. If anything, she should be the one apologising to her for ogling her the way she had.

“Our home. Halfsies, remember?“ Gillian gave her a hopeful smile that made Caroline’s heartbeat a little fast.

“Right…“ She responded with a smile of her own and finished preparing the mugs. “Here… I put some brandy in it,“ she explained as she returned to the living area and handed over the hot drink.

“Now, this is why I like having you 'round,“ Gillian grinned as they both dropped onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Because I drive you to drink?“ Caroline chuckled and Gillian laughed:

“Because you drive me to drink with someone, not by meself.“ She took a sip of the tea that warmed her insides quickly, and silence fell between them as they watched the fire. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, far from it. They each turned to their thoughts, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the drink as well as - certainly in Caroline’s case, she couldn’t speak for Gillian - each other’s company.

“Does it surprise you?“ Caroline asked after a while, her eyes resting on the sheep farmer’s strong hands wrapped around her mug.

“What?“ Gillian asked, taking a sip, glancing at her expectantly.

“How well this is working?“ Caroline clarified, and Gillian chuckled:

“Should it?“

“No! No…no I mean… it was a bit of a rash decision, fuelled in no small measure to spite my mother…and yes, there are advantages to it, yes, sure, but… I expected it to be… harder,“ Caroline admitted thoughtfully. This, of course, made things difficult for her to keep straight in her head. Her attraction towards Gillian wasn’t new, it had developed over time and intensified in the last few years since she had moved out into the countryside herself. She had never paid much heed to it. There was just something about the sheep farmer, there always had been. It was evident by the sheer number of suitors she acquired. Given Caroline’s interest in women, she had merely assumed that she wasn’t immune to whatever it was. Her feelings towards Gillian hadn’t factored into her decision to move in together. It genuinely had seemed like the right decision for both of them and it was proving to be just that. Whatever concern Caroline may have had given that attraction, she had assumed that it would fade given time. Surely, living with Gillian - her mess, her moods, her… well, everything - was bound to put her off and end that idealised fantasy she had dreamed up in her head. Sadly, the opposite had occurred. While there were times where they still wound each other up, all things considered, being close to Gillian had made her realise how much she adored everything about her. Even the things she had expected she would hate. Now, all she could do was ignore her feelings and hope they would pass eventually. She would have to apply one of her mother’s approaches to problems: if you don’t talk about them, they don’t exist.

“Are you saying you expected me difficult to be round?“ Gillian smirked, never missing an opportunity to tease her.

“No! No! Well, yes, but not like…“ Caroline started and stopped herself when she realised what she was saying. She had been too preoccupied contemplating her crush on her, to mind her words.

“Keep digging,“ Gillian grinned, while clearly not taking offence, not really, anyway.

“No, I’m just… it’s nice,“ Caroline exclaimed, hoping to put the matter to bed. Not unlike she would have hoped to bed the sheep farmer but that was a different, none-existent matter that she wouldn’t talk about. “And I would have hoped it would be but… it’s nice to have it confirmed.“

“I like having you around,“ Gillian was more to the point than Caroline’s babbling mess of a statement.

“Even if I’m a snotty bitch?“ Caroline felt they were entering safer waters again.

“Particularly 'cause you’re a snotty bitch, you give the place a certain measure of class,“ Gillian laughed.

“A sheep farm with class?“

“A sheep farm with class,“ Gillian repeated with a nod. “It’s certainly stopped Cheryl trying to pick on us… and that new guy from ‘cross the moor stopped dropping by unannounced, he were a right pain.“ She grimaced at the memory of it.

“Think he had a bit of a thing for you,“ Caroline chuckled, contemplating the matter. Of course he did, show me one person attracted to women who doesn’t have a thing for Gillian bloody Greenwood, Caroline thought miserably.

“Well, he can fuck off with his fancy arse yellow tractor,“ Gillian huffed.

“Bit of a statement that, isn’t it.“

“You think?“

“Yes, like a peacock, flashing his feathers,“ Caroline mused, remembering him popping by the farm in it at one point. At the very least it had been great entertainment for Flora and Calamity but only until the point where they had started making fun of it, embarrassing them in front of what could have been a perfectly nice new neighbour.

“He were well confused when you opened door to him in your nighty that one time,“ Gillian grinned and Caroline feigned outrage.

“Well, he shouldn’t have called at bloody 10 o’clock at night, should he?“

“Probably hoping I’d invite him in, weren’t he.“ Gillian rolled her eyes.

“He must have heard of your stellar reputation,“ Caroline hummed into her tea, contemplating the matter that she was probably the envy of most of the male population of West Yorkshire when it came to “staying over at Gillian’s“. Shame it didn’t entail the same benefits for her that it had for many men in the past.

“Old Gillian would’ve,“ the sheep farmer mused, driving the point home painfully.

“He wasn’t even a looker,“ Caroline exclaimed, trying her best to keep her jealousy in check.

“Don’t have to look at his face if he has other qualities,“ Gillian shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Ew.“ Caroline contemplated adding some more brandy to her tea if the conversation was going to carry on the way it was. She glanced at the window. The rain hadn’t stopped, if anything, the storm was only getting worse, and there was absolutely no reason to be leaving the house. So what if it was only 11am? The brandy was tempting.

“You used to shag John, you can’t be that repulsed by it.“ Gillian demanded her attention with a knowing smirk.

“I liked John… for a time, loved him even, so I got over it but now… don’t think I could go back, honestly, I just… like women too much, should have stuck with them after uni,“ Caroline stated.

“That would have spared us the indignity of me shagging your ex-husband,“ Gillian had to admit.

“Ah, but then, we would have missed out on so much fun,“ Caroline elbowed her.

“Sorry… again… about all that,“ Gillian responded with a moment of sincerity while nursing her tea.

“It’s forgotten. If John could see us now, living together, his head would explode,“ the headteacher chuckled. “God knows what he’d presume was going on…“

“Hm… what indeed,“ Gillian hummed and Caroline struggled to interpret her response to an off-hand comment she already regretted making. Before she could attribute more meaning to it, Gillian concluded: “Men are idiots, aren’t they?“

“I have been saying this for some time.“ Caroline nodded with a smirk.

“Is it easier?“ Gillian asked, after finishing her drink in one final gulp.

“What?“ Caroline frowned, needing her to be more specific, and the sheep farmer took a moment to provide context, seemingly a little insecure.

“Dating… you know… women?“

“Oh. Uh- well, depends on the woman. Whether you have the same interests, want the same things out of life…“ Caroline suddenly found the inside of her mug very interesting indeed. “You for instance are…“ She broke off when she realised what she was saying but she seemed to have peaked Gillian’s interest:

“What?“ She asked curiously.

“Well, we… work well together, don’t we, we’re very different and yet…“ Caroline shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of a spring or something digging into her back. Anything to distract her from the sheep farmer.

“Are you coming on to me, Caz?“ Gillian smirked and Caroline’s face fell.

“No! No, no, don’t be ridiculous.“ Her voice was higher than usual and she shook her head vehemently.

“Hey, I’m not that bad, am I?“ The sheep farmer carried on, seemingly intent on exploiting a moment of weakness.

“Can’t win with you, can I,“ Caroline cleared her throat and focused her thoughts, she finished her tea, to give herself something to do.

“Relax, I’m only winding you up,“ Gillian elbowed her and Caroline became aware of how closely they were sitting together.

“Right.“

“Been with a girl once.“ Gillian added in an off-hand sort of way and got to her feet. She grabbed Caroline’s mug out of her hand who just stared at her in shock.

“What?“ Her mind was reeling from the statement and she couldn’t be sure if Gillian was trying to wind her up more or if she was serious, sharing one of her many sex-capades of the past for a laugh. Perhaps it was a bit of both. The sheep farmer didn’t answer immediately. She made her way into the kitchen and poured brandy into their mugs, forgoing the tea altogether. Caroline was watching her every move, tense for an answer, as Gillian took her time returning to the sofa. She handed her one of the mugs and took a sip of her own before sitting back down. There was a moment of quiet anticipation as Gillian appeared to be contemplating how to best tell the story.

“You know when… things were right bad with Eddie,“ she started at last and Caroline felt a lump forming in her throat. Eddie. How she longed never to hear that name again and for Gillian to forget all about him, but he would, forever, be a part of her, of them. Caroline hated hearing about that part of Gillian’s life because of how helpless it made her feel and how much she wished it had never happened. But there was also a part of her that was keen to listen, not out of morbid curiosity, but because it meant a lot to her that Gillian felt she could talk to her about him. She was, after all, the first person she had ever told of the real circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. Caroline felt honoured that Gillian confided in her, so she listened, for her, as much as it might hurt. She hadn’t anticipated this sharp change of pace and topic but perhaps it was something Gillian needed to get off her chest.

“He was controlling too, wan’t he, and wouldn’t really let me see other men, so…“ Gillian took a deep breath and a sip of the brandy to steady her nerves. “Guess he wasn’t that threatened by women so there was this lass, up in, uh... Huddersfield, actually, funnily enough.“ Gillian chuckled but there was no joy to it. “There was this one time where Eddie, he got really p-pissed on a night out there and got in a fight. Coppers had to break it up and he got arrested… I was g-gonna pick him up but when I were stood outside police station, I couldn’t make myself go in.“ She took another sip of her drink and Caroline reached out for her free hand. Gillian’s voice was more shaky now, there was the stammer too, that she got whenever negative emotions threatened to swallow her up. “C-Cause I knew if I did and bailed him out that night, he’d be…in a t-terrible state and he’d be right f-fucking pissed for having been arrested and…“ She broke off, curling her fingers tightly around Caroline’s. “Well anyway, I turned round, went to pub instead. Didn’t know it were a… gay bar or whatever, did I… but I really needed a drink and there was this girl…and she were nice and apparently liked the look of me and, by that point, I was just relieved to be away from Eddie for night and I… t-took opportunity, didn’t I. Stayed over. Picked up Eddie in’t morning. Told him coppers wouldn’t let me pick him up that night so I h-had to wait.“

“And he believed that?“ Caroline asked gently, running her thumb over the back of her hand.

“N-No. But he didn’t guess what I’d been up t-to that night, else he would have done more than give me a black eye, wouldn’t he…“ Gillian took a deep breath, eager to wrap up the story. “Saw her a couple times after that too, but couldn’t keep finding reasons to go to bloody Huddersfield, could I, so it fizzled out eventually.“

“I’m sorry, Gillian, I…“ Caroline didn’t know what to say. She wanted nothing more than to pull her into her arms, hold her close and tell her that everything would be alright but that would betray a depth of emotion that would probably overwhelm her. These were the times when Caroline was reminded of how fragile the other woman really was. She was staring into her mug, seemingly attempting to divine meaning from the amber liquid but coming up short. Caroline was struck - and not for the first time - by how small Gillian looked when she retreated into herself. Yes, physically, she was obviously far smaller than Caroline but her loud personality and presence usually more than made up for it. When the pretence of confidence fell away, what remained was the broken woman Eddie had left behind. Caroline couldn’t blame her for having killed him, not for a moment.

“’S fine,“ Gillian mumbled.

“It’s not fine,“ Caroline insisted, anger boiling up inside her.

“No, but it’s in the past,“ Gillian countered with surprising calmness as she finished off her drink. She glanced at Caroline and there was an odd sense of acceptance in her eyes, of hopefulness, of determination not to be defined by the past and to move forward. She gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze. “The girl was the point of the story, not Eddie,“ she said and managed a little smile, encouraging the conversation along to more pleasant matters. “Bloody hell, Caroline, I was hoping you’d at least be a little bit shocked or something.“ She managed a chuckle.

“So… what’d she look like?“ Caroline asked after another moment of silence, as she contemplated how to steer clear of the gloominess of the past.

“Who?“ Gillian frowned.

“The girl!“ Caroline exclaimed and let go of her hand. She watched Gillian with delight at the blush that suddenly crept onto the sheep farmer’s cheeks.

“Oh! Uhh- dunno.“ Gillian looked into her mug, which was now empty and provided no distraction.

“Yes you do,“ Caroline teased.

“Blonde. Tall,“ Gillian sighed, exasperated.

“Ohh, do you have a type,“ Caroline joked, trying to brush over a wave of jealousy.

“She was no uptight bitch if that’s what you’re bothered about,“ Gillian’s snark returned in full force.

“That's a no-go, is it?"

“It was good though…“ Gillian went on, completely ignoring Caroline's question.

“What?“ The headteacher frowned confused.

“The sex,“ Gillian smirked, causing Caroline to nearly spit out her drink.

#last tango in halifax #gillian greenwood #nicola walker #ltih #sarah lancashire #caroline mckenzie dawson #caroline x gillian #gillian/caroline #fanfiction #mild angst #banter #domestic #british weather is a bitch #femslash #slow burn #mutual pining

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rosella-writes · 3 years

Text

writing tag game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora, @kittynomsdeplume, @melisusthewee and @emerald-amidst-gold <3

Whoooo boy, here we go.

How many works do you have on AO3?

17, but quite a few are just one-shots. I only have a couple long-fics, mostly because my poor ADHD brain is cruel to me.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

190,052, but if I hadn't orphaned my old (and embarrassing) Skyrim and Sherlock fanfics it'd probably be closer to 300,000.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips - 579

i couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted - 56

a fuller feeling (a brighter burst) - 54

Eunoia - 40

i'd wanna be felled by you, held by you (fuel the pyre of your enemies) - 39

(And to be perfectly honest, my most popular fic is by far my worst. I spend so much more time carefully crafting for Eunoia than I do anything else, but the little following it's picked up has made it worth more to me than all the kudos and comments on "honey.")

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I used to be terrible about it, mostly because the vast majority of comments I once got was hate (I wrote for a weirdly unpopular wlw pairing). Now I make it a point to respond to every single one when I can, even the short ones, to thank them for taking the time. It means so much.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It was a drabble for the r/dragonage writing thread, actually! The premise was a font in the Black Emporium that would show your OC the outcome of a decision made differently. I wrote Eliana Lavellan from Eunoia discovering what would have happened if she'd fought with Solas in Crestwood until he told her the truth... and its outcome was worse than the timeline where he left her and kept his secret. You can read it here (it's about 1200 words, nice and short).

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

My various Solavellan pairings don't get happy endings. Evelyn Lavellan was more of a narrative tool to explore Solas with, so her ending was cut short. Eliana doesn't have her ending yet, but it will be bitter and painful. My happiest ending was for my Bella/Rosalie pairing for Twilight - Bella became a vampire and lived happily ever after with her wife.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't, unfortunately! Since my days on tumblr and FFNet, S*perWh*L*ck left a terrible taste in my mouth when it came to crossovers. I'd be open to it one day if I can find fandoms chill enough.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

As I previously mentioned, yes. In my Bella/Rosalie fic, I made it a point for Rosalie to love all the parts of Bella that weren't conventionally beautiful. My Bella is also a dark-skinned black woman, and the intersection of racism, colorism, and misogyny where it concerns attractiveness was something I thought worth including because I didn't see enough of it in fic. I wanted to highlight all the things that don't get enough attention or are actively reviled, like hyperpigmentation, stretch marks, natural hair, soft bellies, areolas and vulvas that aren't perfectly symmetrical or small, pubic hair and armpit hair and little hairs around nipples - things that I love about AFAB people! I got a lot of comments on my smut chapters calling Bella disgusting, or me nasty for choosing to include those traits. I deleted every single one.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

So much. I love exploring pairings or power dynamics that people wouldn't necessarily consider, like a strong female warrior Lavellan domming Solas, or Solas topping Blackwall. I wanted to show a black woman in an interracial relationship with a white woman where she got to be soft and loved gently, where she got to be quiet, bookish, and looked after instead of expected to be the loud, strong stereotype that we pin black women into. I wanted to show the power of masculinity in an elven mage who loves a warrior woman (Solas/Cass), or the nurturing side of domming in a relationship between a pan giant and a bisexual elf (Iron Bull/Solas).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, tbh. I turn up to fandoms a decade late, so usually by the time I get any traction the fic-stealers have done their dirty work and leave me alone.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven't! I hope to one day write a fic in Greek for my best friend, though. They deserve to read about Solas in their mother-tongue.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but have done some plotting with aforesaid Greek friend.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan, absolutely. Any variation, honestly - I've loved m!Solavellan, f!Solavellan, as well as any variation including nonbinary, trans, or other interpretation of the relationship. Solas sees and loves the spirit, and I love the idea that its vessel doesn't matter so much to him. I headcanon him as a he/him agender bisexual, for what it's worth.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I've technically marked i couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted as complete, but it cuts off right before Adamant and was intended to be a full Solavellan story. However, I just didn't care for my rogue f!Lavellan OC very much, and didn't think she matched Solas well. I developed an OC that I enjoyed writing much better and rolled with it. So, I'm sorry Evelyn Lavellan, but your story is frozen with the two of you happy in bed. Solas will never break up with her so long as I don't write that part, right?

What are your writing strengths?

I love dialogue and crafting character voices! Getting a comment that I've managed to portray a favorite character so well that they can hear their voice in their head as they read? Priceless.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition vs description. I want to show instead of tell, but developing the right environment for a scene can be tough for me. It's so much easier to write that the characters are cold and the ground is wet than to wax poetic about dripping leaves and frosty air. But I'm working on it.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm obsessed with it. I love little bits sprinkled through that make sense with context, and culturally speaking it would feel wrong not to sometimes! I'm also the type of person that's always been obsessed with languages, and instead of becoming fluent in one I've learned a smattering of a whole lot. So any opportunity to sneak in some French, Welsh, German when it makes sense? I'm taking it. And don't even get me started on Elvhen or Qunlat because I will sprinkle that shit like biodegradable glitter.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Okay I'm gonna flout this question and just write my fandoms in order:

Sherlock (circa 2010 - 2014)

Skyrim (2016)

Twilight (obsessed from 2005 - 2010 but didn't write for it until 2019 or 2020 when Midnight Sun released)

Dragon Age (March 2021 and easily the most fanfic I've ever written ever)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite one to write was probably i'd wanna be felled by you, but my favorite to reread is Eunoia. It's most likely the most honest, least presumptuous thing I've ever written, and it's easily the longest thing I've ever attempted. I'm very proud of it.

As far as tagging goes, I've been very rude lately with it by tagging people late in the day, or tagging folks that I haven't tagged before, and am still refiguring out tumblr etiquette (since I haven't been here since the days of the skeleton war and the Mishapocalypse lmao), so presume if you see this you're tagged to participate. With no expectations nor pressure, though, I'll tag @dreadfutures, @varric-tethras-editor and @blarfkey if they'd like. <3

#whew this one took ages #but it was nice to take a trip down memory lane #it's been a while since I thought about my early days as a fanfic writer #before I got my english degree and thought I knew everything about writing #and now I actually have my degree and feel like I know even less than I did before #anyway #solavellan #solas #fanfic #my fanfic stuff #writing #tag game

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latin-dr-robotnik · 3 years

Note

you’re a combo of uwu and too many thots lolol thot and thot solidarity 🤝

Y E S

I thought of where I could fit in best, and too many thots felt like a personal callout so yeah why not haha but uwu? aww thank you! ♥

So... since we're thots... may I interest you in my latest uwu wip I was surely gonna forget about in a few days anyway? It came to me last night during a chat with @dizzydennis 👀👀👀

Prompt goes: Sonic agrees to take Cream out on a small adventure, but Vanilla is completely unaware of that and actually called Amy to come over and take care of Cream while she was out for the day. The end result is Sonic and Amy both fighting over Cream’s care, as Sonic’s proposal might not be as chill as he originally thought.

"He should be here any moment..."

Shortly after their last adventure in Music Plant, Sonic promised to take her out again, this time to a less dangerous yet still adventurous place. The 23rd day after the leaves started falling down was chosen as the date for their next meeting, and Cream waited patiently... until now.

Today's the day Sonic will return, and she's been waiting all day long, leaning on the open window from her bedroom.

"I probably should've told mama about it, don't you think Cheese?"

Her Chao Cheese flew outside and stood in front of her with a concerned look, "chao..."

"Yes, I know... I shouldn't hide things from mama, but I assumed she would be fine with it anyway... maybe I should tell her now, right?"

Cream stepped away from the window, and took a moment to pick up courage to leave her bedroom and talk to her mom. But as she was just about to reach for the door, a voice startled her from downstairs.

"Cream, sweetie, I'm going to be out for a bit." It was Vanilla, ready to go open the front door with one hand, and carrying a bag with the other.

Cream gasped, then opened the door just enough to squeeze her head out the bedroom. "What!? Whe-where are you going, mama?"

"I need to go to the city, buy some things... do you want me to buy you anything in particular?"

Cream hesitated for a second, thinking if she should tell her mom about Sonic right now or not, at the risk of upsetting her or worse... "no... no! I'm fine! Thanks, ha ha!"

"Oookay..." Vanilla opened the door, revealing someone else standing right outside, "oh, by the way, Amy is here to join you while I'm out. Have fun, girls!"

Cream closed the door immediately and held it shut with her body, looking back at Cheese in complete panic, "AMY?!"

Amy entered the house carrying a bag, and slowly walked towards the sofa, "hey Cream! Your mom told me to bring something so I picked up some movies and popcorn for us! I think you're gonna love this!"

Cream didn't say anything, still looking at Cheese, which prompted Amy to leave her things on the couch and come upstairs.

"Hey, you okay?" Amy said, knocking the bedroom door, "something's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, Ms. Amy!" Cream replied from the other side, refusing to open. "I need to put some things back in place and I'll join you in a bit, don't worry!"

"Fair enough, call me if you need help, though!"

Cream sighed in relief, then jumped right onto her bed, "what are we going to do, Cheese?"

Cheese looked outside the window, confused.

"We got ourselves into this, we need to make up some sort of plan or something, before Mr. Sonic arrives!"

Cheese nodded, and they spent the next 10 minutes thinking about something. Meanwhile, Amy set everything up for the movies, wondering why Cream isn't coming down.

Soon, that feeling of wonder became concern, and Amy went upstairs once again.

"Cream, open this door, please. You're worrying me."

"Okay Cheese, let's hope this goes well..." Cream took a deep breath, then opened the door only to see Amy with her fists on her waist and with a very serious look on her face. "Oh, hey Ms. Amy... I'm so sorry!"

"What was all that about, anyway?"

Cream was clearly uneased by the situation, scratching the back of her head and avoiding eye contact, "Amy, there's something I have to tell you..."

Suddenly, the wind started picking up outside, and Cheese started to fly around the window, weaving arms in panic, "chao! Chao! Chao! Chao! Chao!"

Amy looked extremely confused, but Cream knew exactly what that meant. "Oh, no..."

"Oh no what, Cream? Cream!"

Cream ran downstairs and straight to the front door, Amy chasing after her. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Amy froze in place, "huh? Who's coming now? Cream, stop! Don't open the door to strangers!"

Against her wishes, Cream opened the door, only to reveal a familiar blue hedgehog standing outside.

"Hey Cream, sorry for the delay! There was a bit of traffic, haha." Sonic joked, but noticed Cream was looking down, as if embarrassed by his presence. "Hey, don't tell me you're gonna back out of our plans!"

Cream didn't say a word. Amy, on the other hand, couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"...Sonic?"

"Huh? Amy? Wha-what are you doing here?"

Amy's face suddenly turned to a furious red, "I should be the one asking that question." Then, she grabbed Cream by the shoulder, "CREAMMMMM!"

"Okay, okay!" Cream broke out of Amy's grasp, "Mr. Sonic agreed to take me out today on an adventure, and I... I forgot to tell mama about it!"

Sonic felt a chill running through his spine, "oh, dear..."

Amy facepalmed. "Oh, Cream... why didn't you tell Vanilla that?"

Cream jumped right to hug Amy, tearing up, "I... I was afraid she would say no... I guess I wanted this adventure so so much..."

"It's fine, Cream." Amy comforted her, "but you can't hold things from your mother, you know that... you don't know if she would let you go out or not, but she'll certainly will not let you if you start hiding things from her."

The two stayed hugged for a bit, as Sonic awkwardly stared at them.

"That being said..." Amy broke the silence, "I haven't said no to it yet, and I'm in charge of you today."

Cream's eyes lightened up, "you... you are serious?"

"Yup, I could use some fresh air, and I guess you too. C'mon, go get yourself ready."

Cream stopped hugging Amy, and then happily nodded to her. "Yes! I'll be right back!"

Cream ran back to her bedroom, but Amy stood right where she was, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed and looking directly at a Sonic sheepishly smiling back.

"So... an adventure, huh?" Amy fired. "You know that can get a bit dangerous out there."

"Well, yes... and no..." Sonic scratched the back of his head, "this adventure... is an amusement park... Adventure Park is its name, off the Golden Bay Zone... should be a pretty chill place."

"A PARK?!" Amy lost her cool for a moment, feeling incredibly upset that Sonic never picked a place for them to go out before.

Sonic took a step back, well, actually, two steps back before Amy calmed down again.

"It's fine, it's fine. I was getting tired of asking you out to the same places anyway."

"Amy..."

Just as the conversation got a lot more awkward, Cream returned from upstairs "Ms. Amy! Mr. Sonic! I'm ready! Uh... Mr. Sonic...? Are you alright? You look a bit pale..."

Sonic shook himself back to his normal cocky self in a super Sonic second.

"Pale? Ha... must be the breeze!" He gestured around, then at a nearby tree... that was completely still. "Alright, you ready for the adventure?"

Sonic turned around and Cream immediately jumped on his back so he can carry her. "Yes! ...hold on, a park?"

"The Adventure... Park." Amy added, still crossing her arms.

"Wait, a park? Mr. Sonic, I wanted to wreck some Eggman robots, you said that's the best thing in the world!"

Sonic raised a finger and gestured negatively, "no no, I told you that was way too dangerous! We're gonna do the second best thing in the world, play some dangerous yet controlled amusement park games!"

Cream let a frustrated sigh out, "okay... but what about Amy? Are you gonna carry her too, Mr. Sonic?"

Sonic turned around nervously, and looked back at Amy then down to his hands, "I... think I can do it."

"I can run there by myself."

Amy closed the door just after Cheese, and so the four of them began their way to Adventure... Park.

The sunny afternoon was the perfect set up for this adventure. The park was spread around the bay coast and offered an amazing view of the entire city from its dedicated looking spot, a massive tower sitting on the westernmost point of the bay.

Down on the ground level, Cream was totally amazed by the park's rollercoasters, bumper cars and many, many green spots surrounded by shops and carts. One cart in particular grabbed her attention.

"Oh, oh!" Cream exclaimed, holding on to Sonic's hand while pointing to a cart with the other, "I want some cotton candy!"

"No, Cream." He said, trying to be a bit more strict than last time they went out together, "Vanilla won't appreciate the fact I allowed you to have sugar before your vegetables!"

"Nah, it's fine. Go grab some, Cream." Amy replied over Sonic, still arms crossed, scanning the place around with her look.

"Yay!"

Cream and Cheese dashed to the cotton candy cart, as Sonic approached Amy a bit upset.

"Excuse me, I think I'm doing a good job taking care of Cream on my own." He pointed out.

"Excuse YOU, I'm the one left in charge by her own mother!"

"Yeah but I'm the one who told Cream about this adventure first!"

"And I already had plans for both of us before you came around, hmph!"

As they argued, Cream came back overjoyed holding her giant cotton candy as Cheese directly jumped into it, overjoyed as well.

"Hee hee, I'm back! Where to, now...? Oh... are you fighting?"

Both Sonic and Amy stood still for a moment, side by side, both with their arms crossed.

"Oh? It's nothing, Cream! Ha ha!" Sonic tried to look for something to talk about, "we're just... discussing what attraction we should head to first... yeah!"

"Aww," Cream lowered her cotton candy, searching for Cheese somewhere inside it, "don't you think they look cute when they fight, Cheese?"

"Chao! Chao!" Cheese gleefully replied.

Suddenly, Sonic and Amy lost their cool at the same time, letting out a big "WHAT?!" before turning away from each other, upset... and blushing.

"Yeah, they do! They look together, hee hee!" Cream continued, before setting her sights on the next attraction, "I wanna go to the bumper cars next!"

They followed Cream and Cheese, but keeping their distance from one another.

"We don't look cute together," they murmured.

Back to latin-dr-sonamy-trash: Okay okay, this is a very rough draft - written exclusively for this post, and not even spell-checked! I feel like there’s still sooooo much more to this one, but I’m already 1800+ words into it and I need some sort of self-control (well, not only that one lol) or else I’ll never post this ask haha

Also, I would not be a too many thots thot if I finished this one right here and now~~

But seriously, I think I have a solid grasp for this one, and I could actually return to it and finish it! There’s still the bumper cars bit, the rollercoaster bit, Eggman actually coming in and storming the place, and Sonic and Amy’s final reflection on the day (and maybe more? 👀), so, yeah, we’re just halfway done with this little SonAmy trash piece where our emotional support hedgehogs are a bit... grumpy at each other? 👀

#ask latin dr robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #yes for the final oneshot i'm gonna flesh it out a lot more #i just put the basic worldbuilding and interactions down lolol #i feel like i can do much muuuuch more with this one #but again - i need some sort of self control haha #potatoes-tomatoes

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adozentothedawn · 3 years

Text

End of the Year Fic Roundup

Got tagged by @heyitsharding, thanks!^^ I’m posting it here, since I have more followers on my main who might care about it and I want to leave the side blog really just for writing itself. This will be a bit strange I think, because I just started writing this year, so it’s less what changed and more what happened in the first place.

Progress:

I’ve uploaded on Ao3 a bit more than 75k words, together with the wips I haven’t finished yet, and the just the character building things I did on tumblr, it’s probably somewhere between 80k and 85k. For someone who wrote like... 8k words (fanfiction, I wrote a whole lot more for school of course) in her whole life before, that’s a lot. I started writing because Waidwen deserves mor attention, and hardly anyone else gave him any, so I decided to just do it. And now we’re here. It’s very strange honestly. At this point I almost write more than I read which is... slightly disorienting sometimes. Over the course of the year my approach has changed a lot as well. It started out very focused on structure and specific details, and then towards the end became more and more vibe oriented really. Hildraed is essentially just me writing what jumps at me with exactly no focus on any sort of theme or such. It’s just me, indulging my ideas and feels. And I do like that, but I also think there are other projects that deserve more attention than just doing whatever.

(Actually I just caught myself in a lie. I started another yugioh fanfic at some point, and also I wrote a whole ass play as a kid for a contest. I still think I would have deserved at least an honerable mention. If anyone cares, maybe I’ll write down what it was about some point. Maybe I should try find it again...)

New Things I tried:

Everything really, since I didn’t really do anything before. But I guess I started out relatively basic, with writing in past tense about specific events, and later got into more vibe specific stuff, with second person, present tense and all that. Also I decided to chuck my inhibitions out of the window, and just write without caring how others might interpret it. Because here’s the thing, it doesn’t matter if anyone interprets for example Broder’s and Waidwen’s relationship as gay, because it’s still me who writes it, and can make it what I want. And if I say men get to be tender and intimite without any sexual or romantic intentions, than that’s entirely my right, just like it’s anyone’s right to write as much gay intimacy as they want, and that’s entirely valid for both of us.

Favorite thing I wrote:

I don’t think I can really choose anything to be honest. But a few I particularily like are A Death in Your Name, because I think it balances the line between original content and canon compliance pretty well, and also actually has a nice structure I think (even if I’m not too happy with Favaen’s short appearence, though to be fair that was still very early in her existance.). The Miracle of Verdant Vorlas is also one of my best I think, probably also because it’s based on a canon event, and also because it was pretty much the start of my obession with Waidwen and Eothas, and has heavily influenced everything that I wrote after. Reperire Regem has the unfortunate fate of me getting side tracked too early, but I will finish it, and it will be glorious. Someday. Waidwen will have a proper story with his friends. I’m a bit sad how little attention ashes of the dawn got, cause it’s really one of my favourites, that plays a lot on Eothas and his feelings on what does an has done. It also has one of my favourite headcanon’s, namely that Maerwald kind of knew about him under the castle, just not who exactly he is. I just really like that idea. Writing Gay was just a lot of fun. It was also an interesting challenge describing someone’s attraction. I’m really proud of What Wael Sees, if only for its name. I thought that was really clever.

I think that was more than half of what I wrote, but I guess that just means I like what I did, which is good and certainly won’t complain. I don’t like everything I’ve ever written, but there is something I like in everything I’ve ever written.

Writing goals for next year:

I really want to at least continue Reperire Regem, if not finish it. I’d also like to branch out my fandom’s a bit, because I have this one-shot lying around that I promised a fanrtist on twitter about baby Claude, and it’s been more than half a year. I know I’m not obligated to anything, but I really just want to finish this thing. Also there is a thing about Tamary that’s almost done, and a sad Loki thing that I started like 5 years ago. I also started a tiny choice script fangame for Pillars of Eternity (like, really tiny. More of a moodpiece really) that would be great to finish. When I’m done with that I’ll post a link to where it is on Dashingdon (who do allow fancontent, I checked thrice just to be sure), but that’s still gonna take a while. I’d absolutely love it if I did ever manage to make my own, real choicescript game, but probably won’t be 2021 yet. The fan thing is a good way to practice though. One tiny sneak peek for you: It’s called: The Wheel. ;)

(One thing for everyone tagging me with something: tumblr doesn’t notify me for tags anymore. At all. So tagging my main blog is a bit safer to reach me, because I check the activity feed of that more often than my side blogs. Or you can just message me too, because those I should definitely get a notification for. Just in case anyone tags and I don’t answer, I promise I’m not ignoring you.^^)

#asks and tags #writing

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pinkykitten · 4 years

Text

The Move

Stranger Things

Jim Hopper x black plus size! female reader

Warning: cursing

Specifics: fluff, comedy, romance, one-shot, plus size reader, poc reader, black reader, woc reader

People: jim hopper, mrs. and mr. sinclair, lucas sinclair, erica sinclair, flo

Words: 2,411

Requested: By @malasxlenguas (cannot tag) Hi! I'm hype you're puertorican, me too! I wanna request a Hopper x black plus size. Lucas's aunt that moved to Hawkins to be close to her famiky and Hopper saw her and he fell HARD and wanted to ask ber out but didn't know how to and one day he just blurted it out and reader yelled yes lol. Just fluff all over lol thank you!!

Authors Note: honestly i loved this frickin prompt it was so unique and i love delving deeper into the sinclair fam and having something based off of that like what a different prompt! this is really fluffy and just beautiful i love hopper so much and i dont know if i ever told you this but my mom loves hopper she finds him super sexy and she loves how thick he is and masculine yet sweet she even has his face on the netflix profile and my dad was like girl who da h*ll is this??? my dad is old schooled and doesnt watch modern shows. any who hope you guys like this!

“Why is she staying with us?” Lucas asked as he followed his mother around the dinner table as she was setting it up for their guest.

“Because, she is starting her new life here. She starts working at the police station soon and she doesn’t have a house. She is your aunt for crying out loud, Lucas. And she is supporting all our cause by being the first thing people see as they enter the police station, a black woman. Remember that Lucas.”

Lucas rolled his eyes as he gave a groan. “But mom its weird being with her.”

“Aw why is that? You used to love being with her when you were younger. What happened?” Mrs. Sinclair shook her head as she changed the napkins out for another color.

“I used to but every time I walk with her all these guys stare at her. They’re like undressing her with their eyes. Its disgusting mom.”

“Well baby that ain’t your aunt’s fault. Those are all those nasty men that can’t control when they see such a beautiful lady. Plus remember your aunt is on the bigger side and she has got her curves.” Mrs. Sinclair started to shake her butt as Lucas made a disgusted face.

“That’s the thing. She walks around, people look at us and then the attention is on us like I just want to go to the mall but no can’t go there either without the stares.” Lucas felt like even saying these things his mother was not going to change her mind.

“Lucas Sinclair I expect you to be nice and kind to your aunt. She loves you a whole lot and watch soon she’ll be out of here and who knows maybe you’ll miss her.”

The door knocked and Mrs. Sinclair took her apron off excitedly and sprinted to the door. “Who is it?” She bit her lip.

“Who do you think crazy? Its your d*mn sister!” You joked.

Mrs. Sinclair opened up and you and her gave a loving embrace. “I missed my baby sister.”

“I missed you too. Your house is always beautiful. And you? Look at you girl you are gorgeous!” You spun your older sister around. “You sure you had two kids?”

“Hello there y/n,” Mr. Sinclair came down the stairs, smiling. He gave you a handshake.

“Excuse me, we family. We hug,” you brought him into a tight hug. “Now where are the children? Kids!”

Erica screamed as she ran to you and jumped in your arms. You picked her up and spun her around. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here! You can totally sleep in my room if you want!”

“Idiot she already got a room. She’s sleeping in the guest room.” Lucas said.

You raised your brow as Erica plopped down onto the ground and raised a finger in front of Lucas’s face, “excuse me! I didn’t know I was talking to you fool.”

“Hey both of y’all stop it!” You smacked them both in the head. “I am sleeping in the guest room but since I’m gonna be staying here for a while I can always have sleepovers with you Erica. Now Lucas where’s my hug?”

Lucas sighed as he gave you a hug.

“There we go. Now, I got you something.” You wipped out behind your back a game that Lucas wanted really bad.

Lucas squealed as he took hold of the precious item.

“Now you better share with your sister. Any who I feel way better now but I’ma need y’all’s help with the truck. I know I couldn’t keep everything so I just kept some stuff.” You said as you led them outside to the moving truck. “You guys got all your arms and you all are healthy then you all can help.”

“Of course we are all going to help. Right kids?” Mrs. Sinclair asked, giving Lucas a glare.

“Yeah of course,” Lucas said.

Everyone started to help you unloading all your boxes and items. You felt a little homesick having to leave your life back out of town. You had to leave your apartment, friends your whole life. You told your sister that you had to leave because you wanted the job here along with it was closer to the family but in reality where you worked they fired you and no other place would hire you. It made you feel depressed and like you weren’t good enough. People got one look at your size and color and that was it, they saw you as not good enough. But you tried to see your situation half full and realize that you were with family and they were going to help you through this.

You picked up a heavy box and because it had been raining earlier and was such a gloomy day you slipped on the side of the road with a squeal. Good thing you didn’t hurt yourself but you dropped all your items that were in the box. “Oh sh*t!” You grumbled picking each little thing up.

You heard a car drive beside you and the car door close. You looked up to see a cop. You hastily stood up and wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans to get your wallet out. “Sorry I just slipped and I was trying to pick this up in time.” You finally looked up at him and he was very tall.

The man gulped as he saw your beauty. The sun had just peeked through the clouds and landed on your beautiful skin making it shine. Your eyes captivated him and he felt speechless.

“Are you okay?” You asked, waving your hand to him.

“Yeah sorry. And don’t worry about this mess. I actually saw you slip that’s why I came here to offer my help.” The man bent down and helped pick up each little thing. “So are you new? Cause I’ve never seen you here before?”

“Yeah I just moved in here obviously today.” You chuckle. “I’m y/n l/n. My sister is married to Mr. Sinclair.”

“Oh so you’re the aunt of Lucas.”

“I’m afraid as to why a cop knows and remembers Lucas.”

“He was just involved a little bit with a missing case we had. A few years back one of his friends went missing.”

“Oh I remember my sister telling me that. I heard you guys found him. That’s awesome saving peoples lives like that.”

“Well it is my job.” The man smiled. “I haven’t introduced myself I’m Chief Hopper, Jim Hopper.” He gave his hand out and you shook it.

“Oh I know you! I think we spoke on the phone. I’m gonna work at the police station tomorrow at one of the desks I think y’all said next to Flo?”

“Yeah our secretary.” Hopper wanted to start dancing right there and then. He was excited to have someone like you in the police station. He wanted to get closer to you, know your story. He thought you were extremely beautiful and very kind. “So do you have kids? Maybe a husband?”

“No and no. My kids are Lucas and Erica but I would love to have my own kids someday just gotta find the right man.” She picked up the box but almost fell again with how heavy it was.

“Here let me help you with that.” Hopper picked up the box. It was attractive. He was tall and very manly but a sweetheart. He was like a big teddy bear.

Hopper walked in the Sinclair’s house, greeting them all.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked.

“I was in the neighborhood and saw your aunt slipped and helped her out.”

“So you were gawking at my aunt huh?”

“What? No kid I was-”

Lucas shook his head, “say no more say no more. Every man does it, you are not the first and frankly you are not gonna be the last.”

Hopper was weirded out by Lucas but walked up stairs to your room.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. You just moved in you should of seen my cabin when I put all my stuff in there. It was packed.”

“Really? Well I appreciate your help. So what about you Jim Hopper, do you have a wife and kids?”

“Kid yes wife no.”

“Oh really? Boy or girl?”

“Girl, her names Jane.”

You grinned, “how sweet. Well she has a good daddy. She should be really proud of you, especially how you found that kid.”

“Well it wasn’t just me who found Will. I had help but I’m more proud of her.” Hopper smiled just thinking about Eleven. “I was thinking if you’re free tomorrow night how about me and you go,” Hopper was going to say a date but he chickened out. “Go, go on a how about you stay and help me organize my desk?”

You were hoping he was going to ask you on a date. Feeling disappointed you nodded, “yeah I will. Thanks.”

“Well its getting late. I’m going to go home, you have a good night.”

“You too Hopper,” you said as he left and you felt self conscious. Maybe he wasn’t with you because you didn’t look like the other women. You were thick, chunky, plus size and black. Maybe he didn’t find you attractive.

As Hopper walked out of the house he felt like hitting himself. He wasted an opportunity because he was sacred. “I’m such a da*n idiot.”

It was your first day of work and you were nervous. Rubbing your hands on your floral dress you realized they were drenched in sweat. You had your lunchbox tight beside you as you walked inside.

There were only a few people there so it was not an overwhelming setting.

“Hello. You must be Flo,” you gave Flo, the secretary a hand shake.

“Yes, yes I am. And you must be y/n. Nice to meet you sweetheart. There are some papers on your desk that need some checking, think you can do it?”

“Of course yes.” As you sat down in your desk you caught Chief Hopper staring at you. You thought maybe he was worried you wouldn’t do your job right. The other police men there gawked at you. Hopper came out of his office to go for some donuts by the coffee machine.

“Hello y/n.”

“Hi there Chief.” You went to the copy machine and noticed it was down. “Does this copy machine work?”

“Its just broke down all of a sudden but there’s one in Hopper’s office.” Flo said.

You became more nervous! Going into the Chief’s office was no joke. It was his personal space.

“Alright,” you stated quietly. “Chief, may I go copy these papers?”

“Of course, sure.” He took a sip of his just brewed coffee.

As you walked inside it smelled of cigarettes and faint cologne.

“Its right there in the corner.” Hopper sat down in his chair and lit up another one of his cigarettes.

The copy machine was stuck between two cabinets there was a small gap between the two. Noticing the papers had a staple on them you tried taking the staple out carefully, without damaging the paper. Unfortunately all the papers fell in that little gap. You bent down and kneeling in that small gap to pick the papers up. The problem was you became stuck. Your butt was too big!

You tried not making a scene or noticeable. It was embarrassing to get your butt stuck between a copy machine and cabinets, especially in Chief’s office. You tugged and tugged but it was no use. Your grunts were heard and Chief looked in your direction only to be greeted by your a*s.

“You okay there?” He put his cigarette down and walked to you.

“Yeah just fine,” you again pushed and budged but nothing. “Actually no, I’m stuck.”

“Oh really?” Hopper breathed harshly as his eyes couldn’t help but land on your butt. To be honest you were the perfect woman for him. He loved women who were big and luscious. He bit his fist to stop him from drooling. “Da*n.”

“I’m sorry to ask you this but can you help me?”

Hopper chuckled a bit,” sure thing sweetheart.” He grabbed a hold of your chub and honestly in different circumstances his hands on your most insecure part would bother you but you were tired of being stuck and you had work to do.

“This is not how I would imagine my first day would go.”

“How did you even get stuck in here?” Hopper tried to pull you out.

“Well I tried to take a staple out of the paper but then all the papers fell on the floor and I tried to pick them up but I got my mama’s body and there is a whole lotta junk in the trunk.” It made you feel awkward to have his fingers gripping your flesh. It almost felt sexual in a way and you were bashful about it. His strong fingers held you in a way you wish it were more.

“I think I almost got you.”

You felt yourself getting looser and looser as you finally popped out. You fell back onto Hopper as he fell on his back and you landed on your stomach on top of his chest. Your faces only a few inches apart.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry for all of this,” you pointed your finger to yourself.

“No don’t be sorry. You’re beautiful. I actually like my women thick,” he growled, trailing his hands from your waist to your butt.

“Really? I assumed you thought I was ugly.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“Nobody but usually everyone does. That’s actually the reason I came over here,” you leaned on your elbow above him. Your face being cascaded with the morning light. “I was fired from my previous job and nobody wanted to hire me. You guys were the only ones to give me a chance.”

Hopper touched your cheek as you melted into it, “I thought about you all night. Do you want to go on a date with me-”

“YES!” You blurted out quickly and loud.

Hopper giggled and he kissed your sweet lips. You two laughed at the silly position and leaned your forehead against his.

“I’ll take you later tonight, deal?”

You kissed Hopper again and in a way was very thankful you got fired and that you moved. “Deal.”

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag)

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

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destination-despairing · 4 years

Text

if anyone wants to see that snippet I wrote last night for a project I’m currently calling “Shuichi Saihara and the Ghost of Hope’s Peak” here ya go, I’m gonna go try to focus on my current wips for now but I would kinda like to neaten this up and continue it

“So, have you guys seen the ghost yet?”

It was a question going around campus, spreading like a virus. Everyone was talking about the ghost, the strange figure seen in the windows of empty classrooms, out of the corner of your eye, lurking on the grounds after dark.

“Fuck off, the ghost isn’t really,” one student laughed, pushing his friend.

“It totally is! People have been seeing her for years!” his friend insisted. “I heard she’s a reserve course student who committed suicide.”

“You’re wrong, she’s a teacher who died in that fire.”

“I thought she was the Ultimate Psychic and she’s still trying to get a message through that there is an afterlife.”

“You’re all wrong.”

The students all turned to the quiet kid in the corner, sitting and scribbling away in a small notebook, a hat covering most of his face.

“What’s that?” one of the others asked. “Wrong?”

“It’s not a woman-” he began to explain.

“What? She’s got long hair!”

“Lots of people can have long hair.” he tugged his hat down a little at the loud voices. “But it’s a man. About twenty-two to twenty-five at most, and he’s not a ghost. He’s a person, he leaves footprints a-and fingerprints.”

He had a piece of tape in that notebook where he’d collected those fingerprints, traced over them to keep them from smudging.

“... yeah, okay,” one of the others snorted and rolled their eyes. “Guess Virgin Holmes here has all the info.”

His cheeks turned red at the laughter. They didn’t all laugh, one of them even elbowed the offending girl and gave her a stern look, but just a little bit of laughter was enough to make him want to disappear.

“Like you can…” he muttered to his sketch of the ‘ghost.’

That night as he was heading home he saw him again, standing by the fountain and staring into the water. It was the boldest he’d ever been in showing himself, but he had the ability to vanish so quickly it really was just pure luck he was seen.

He gasped, and moved to hide behind a bush. That small sound alone was enough to make the ghost lift his head, and look around. The student held his breath, and tried to take a small step to the side to better conceal himself.

He turned and found himself face to face, inches away, from the ghost.

“What are you doing?” the ghost asked, tilting his head.

The student yelped and jumped back in surprise, dropping his journal which fell open on the cobblestones. The ghost snatched it up and started leafing through it.

“... you are following me,” he remarked.

“Investigating you,” the student corrected, standing and dusting himself off. “I… s-sorry.”

“You have a lot. A lot more than others ever found.” The ghost sounded… impressed? But above all that he sounded… tired. Monotone.

Bored.

“I wanted to know what you were doing here,” the student said. “No one ever sees you during the day, you don’t teach or attend classes, I… can I ask you who you are?”

The ghost tilted his head again, and shrugged. “I am Izuru Kamukura.”

“The school’s founder?” the student asked, confused and doubtful.

“No.”

“So… it’s a coincidence?

“No.”

“You’re not being very helpful,” the student sighed.

“... ask more precise questions.” the ghost handed him his journal back, and the student hesitantly accepted it, before flipping to a fresh page and patting himself down for a pencil.

“Okay, why do you have the same name as the school’s founder?” the student asked, following the ghost’s advice.

“Because I was an important investment and symbol for this school.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“What’s your name?” Izuru asked, moving to the nearby bench and perching on the armrest.

“S-Shuichi,” he answered.

“I’ve never heard of you either,” Izuru replied, making Shuichi groan but also chuckle.

“Okay. How about… why haven’t I heard of you, if you’re important to this school?”

“Because I am a failed experiment.” Izuru stood and started walking along the length of the bench, hopping down at the end and moving to repeat the childish sort of fidgeting on the fountain instead.

Shuichi noted that in his book: restless behavior

“What do you mean by ‘failed experiment?’” he asked.

“I failed the personality tests,” Izuru said. “I lack empathy and motivation.”

“What were you supposed to be?” Shuichi kept scribbling notes, he was so focused he didn’t hear Izuru approach and was once again startled to find him inches away.

“Why do you want to know all this?” Izuru asked.

“... I’m a detective, why are you telling me all this?” Shuichi countered.

Izuru shrugged. “I’m bored.” he glimpsed over Shuichi’s notes quickly before continuing. “Four years ago, a reserve course student volunteered for an experimental procedure, a study regarding the ability to create artificial talent. I am the result, the ultimate human being. However, I failed to become what they wanted: the ultimate hope.”

Shuichi noticed he wasn’t having to prompt him anymore, it seemed he had Izuru’s full attention now.

“As the years passed and it became clear I wasn’t developing the personality they lobotomized out of me, they stopped their experiments. Cut their losses. Supposedly, they are still keeping me for study, but I no longer hide my nightly outings and they no longer care so…” Izuru shrugged.

“... they forgot about you?” Shuichi asked, feeling sad. “And now you just live here?”

“No point going anywhere else.” Izuru sat on the edge of the fountain, hunching over looking almost sulky.

Shuichi tried to gather all the information in his head and process it. It was a lot to digest, but Izuru seemed honest. Of course, a lot of people seemed a lot of things.

“Can you prove it?” Shuichi asked.

“Prove what?”

“Prove you’re the ultimate human being.”

Izuru looked him over. “You’re the ultimate detective this year?” “Yes.”

Izuru quickly circled him, so fast some of his hair hit Shuichi in the face and he made a spluttering sound.

“You don’t stay in the dorms and you’ve been spending nights away from home, avoiding something. You haven’t been sleeping either, but it’s not just from following me. Following me was something to do to give you a reason to avoid home and not sleep. Something at home is troubling you, keeping you awake, causing some sort of emotional distress. You’re also distracted by several of your fellow classmates whom you find attractive.”

“H-how-?”

“Bags under the eyes, rumpled clothes you’ve worn several days in a row, I’ve seen you sneaking about before, and you wrote their names in your journal,” Izuru remarked. “Kaede Akamatsu, Kaito Momota, Maki Ha-”

“Okay!” Shuichi cut him off, blushing. “But that’s simple deduction! I’m not special for being able to do that, anyone could! What else can you do?”

Izuru rolled his eyes, then performed a triple backflip.

Shuichi’s jaw dropped.

“Why is it always the acrobatics that amaze you people?” Izuru sighed.

“It’s… flashier,” Shuichi said.

“Why are you avoiding home?” Izuru asked suddenly, and Shuichi’s face fell. He tugged his hat down.

“... I have to be a detective at home.”

“You’re being a detective right now.”

“... I’m not putting anyone away, I’m not hurting anyone. I’m just watching you… and you could probably kill me for even trying…”

Izuru raised an eyebrow. “That’s reckless. Do you want me to kill you?”

Shuichi shrugged and Izuru suddenly found himself a lot more interested.

Interested? Or… there was a word. He used to use it quite often but…

Concerned?

“A case you’ve solved is troubling you?” Izuru guessed. “Your guardians expect you to continue regardless?”

“My uncle, it’s a family business and… helps to have a Hope’s Peak student as an employee. Good for business.” Shuichi closed his journal, suddenly uninterested in taking notes.

“He’s using you for your talent?” Izuru asked, seeming as close to emotive as Shuichi had seen him so far.

“I mean… I wouldn’t say that but…”

“He is a detective, who either has not noticed or is willfully ignoring your emotional distress so you can continue aiding him. He is either using you, or an incompetent guardian.” Izuru huffed, and folded his arms over his chest. “I am familiar with this. Come with me.”

“W-where to?” Shuichi asked, as Izuru put a hand on his shoulder and started guiding him.

“I don’t use my bed, you can,” Izuru replied.

“I… wait, what?”

“I’m giving you a place to sleep safely, until you finally decide to ask for a room in the dorms,” Izuru said. “Eventually you will have to find the courage to ask for that or tell your uncle no, but right now it interests me to help you so I will.”

“So… I get to see where you live? Where you were experimented on?” Shuichi asked, unable to help his curiosity.

“Yes.” Izuru stepped on the hidden panel that opened the doorway to the stairs, and Shuichi was left surprised once more.

#full story under cut #fic #izuru kamukura #shuichi saihara #do not tag as ship

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neighborhood-merc · 5 years

Text

It is I, and I am back with more a new list of fanfics for this wonderful ship called SpideyPool.

Listen, I don’t know why I’m doing this as well (maybe because I fuckin love these boys and want to share my fave fanfics of their ship to everyone...or whatever) but here we are. [ Here are Part 1, 3 btw! ]

Same shit applies:

The themes of the stories on this list varies, I’m either into something heart-warming, fluffy, domestic that sort of stuff or into some really really heavy and dark messed up ones. It always depends on the mood am I right? *wink wink*

It’s always gonna be smutty though lol

As long as it’s tastefully written, whatever kinky shit, I can be into it, I don’t judge the writer. With that being said if I add something straight up messed up here now/or in the future, don’t judge too, just mind the tags of the fic, for your own discretion if anything.

this list should be Wade Wilson/Peter Parker - Spiderman/Deadpool pairing only. I kinda like my babies greedy/possessive for/of each other.

I don’t care who tops or bottoms. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summaries are taken directly from the fanfic’s summary.

Read the tags first!

Wolves [ Update: Sadly, the fic has been deleted :( ] (This is WIP, but I swear it’s so fucking good you should read it. It’s a Prison AU, and the writing is sublime) Peter is falsely accused and sent to jail, where he meets the violent ex-mercenary, Wade.

Don't Forget To Check Your Calendar! Peter REALLY should remember to check his calendar or Peter forgets that he has a heat coming up, and in doing so causes several sticky situations to occur (thank god for Tony's NDA's).

Communication Error “Have you seriously been doing this bit for a year now?” “Bit… what bit?” Wade looked at him, confused. “This,” Peter waved his hand, “the 'we’re dating' bit.” There was a pause, and then suddenly, it was like Wade’s whole body imploded. His shoulders sunk and his head dropped and suddenly Peter knew he’d made a huge mistake. “Hahaha, yeah, the dating bit.” He held up the wine. “One year of one really bad, horrible joke.”

Night Off Wade is taking the night off when a certain Spider calls for help.

The Great Florist, Wade Wilson (this ones got a Sequel) Deadpool has found the apartment belonging to Spiderman. Or Peter Parker, if the name on the door is anything to go by. Now some people might use this information of said secret identity wrongly. Normally Wade would have been one of them. But this is different. This is Spider-Parker, I-mean, Peter-man, I-mean, fuck. Now Deadpool just have to figure out exactly what he is gonna do with this information. Which is quite simple really. He's going to leave Spidey flowers and win his heart this way or the one, where Deadpool spams Spiderman with flowers, and Spiderman has no idea what's going on

Tale As Old As Time, Song As Old As Rhyme (This belongs to the series “A Spider in the Pool”) It is absolutely fucking good, I recommend you read them. Do read the warnings though yeah?) Peter Parker gradually falls for Wade's dubious charms. They have a lot of hang ups and kinks to negotiate, but with sex this hot, Peter can't help wanting more. Erotica with significant plot and relationship development.

Help Me, Peter Parker, You’re My Only Hope! “I need your help,” Wade admitted. “And why would I help you?” Peter asked with an amused chuckle. “Because, um, I asked you? Isn’t it what you do? Help people who ask for it?”

Damage Peter Parker finds himself in a sticky situation and who should show up to rescue him but the infamous Deadpool? Now Peter feels indebted to the mercenary... And maybe weirdly charmed by him.

I'm Serious Wade wants Peter to top. But he really, really doesn't know how to ask.

Shake it out (this series is a good boi)

Sick Days "Wade." "Mr. Rogers." They stared at each other, one calm and silent in his fury while the other looked like a deer about to be pummeled by an eighteen-wheeler. "I'm sure you have a reason for being in my son's bed without a shirt on?"

Love Me Dead Peter tries to tell Wade his feelings. It's kind of a train-wreck.

Disgusting -Spideypool (5+1) This is a Wade Centric fic containing topics of mental health struggles and self image. Nothing too graphic but still.

Flip the Safety They both get a little carried away when they fight, but this time Wade grins over his gun and the worst part is that Peter knows he doesn’t plan on shooting him.

Do It Yourself “I bet you’re flexible enough to suck your own dick.” Wade plants that thought in Peter's head and he can't help where curiosity leads him.

Looking for a savior in these dirty streets (WADE YOU LITTLE SHIT LOL) what's your opinion on eating ass? just looking for a yes or noThat's the text Peter gets when he's in a meeting with Anna Maria, trying his hardest to get back to running a company a few months after an unexpected trip to the underworld.

Act your age (not your shoe size) “Wanna go grab some grub? I have it on good authority there's some qual-a-tee Mexican around here.”Peter’s mouth drops open. “Uh, you always invite guys you just met out for lunch?” Deadpool laughs and leans forward. The words are muffled when he says, “Only the ones I meet in movie theaters.”

That's the power of love (cute af fic) “Yeah, so, about that. Nice to meet ya, I’m Wade Wilson but def not your Wade Wilson although I gotta say, I’m jealous of the asshole.”

Baby, i’d victoria your secret anytime (another good boy) Peter’s known Wade for a while now, so he can maybe see how this makes sense -- like, maybe Wade has a thing about going commando and just happened to have an old girlfriend’s panties lying around, one thing led to another…but…“And the bra?” Peter croaks.

It's The Alcohol Talking It wasn't every day that Wade came across a drunk-off-his-ass Spider-man.

Marco (this is fuckin’ hurt ok???) Spidey was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Took no time with the fall (Part One of “wasn’t looking for this” series) When the Avengers had briefed him on Deadpool, they played up the Kills People for Money and Has No Real Morals angle and left out the Is Pretty Damn Funny and Charming in a Weird, Terrifying Sort of Way part.Or, five times they meet on rooftops plus one time they take it to the streets*

Now you're in my way (Part Two of “wasn’t looking for this” series) Wade's been with the Avengers for four months. The two of them have been together for five.Their relationship consists of taco-based dates, a ton of sex, and, well, Avenging.

The Stalking of Wade Wilson "It’s around this point that a niggling thread of thought worms its way into his head when he’s not paying attention, one that gently suggests that Wade might be slightly less of a bad guy than Peter previously thought."

Seeing the real you (it's not what I imagined) "The fuck,“ Deadpool said slowly. He was staring at him in a way that made Peter feel decidedly uncomfortable, and this was saying something, considering Deadpool had a habit of leering at him at the most inappropriate times. "Are you kidding me?" he eventually gasped. "How OLD are you? Twelve?“

I'll Always Protect You Anonymous said: If anyone is up for it I have a rescue prompt idea where Peter (he is not in his spiderman suit) is taken as a hostage with a gun to the head along with a few other civilians. Peter is warning the criminals to let everyone go otherwise his fiance,Wade, will kill them all. They mock him and beat him up. Then a furious Deadpool saves Peter by the most badass way possible. Also I would love if someone write how unnervingly skilled Wade is as a mercenary. Please? Anyone?

Your ass is mine Spidey takes a toilet break while on patrol. He wasn't expecting Wade to join him.

When I'm Inside You Spiders are hard to catch. When Deadpool manages to pin one down on an NYC rooftop, he thinks he deserves a prize.

Daddy It had started as a joke, which was conveniently how most of these things always happened.

Any Means Necessary Anonymous said: Abo au where Peter is a young mutant who both displayed his heat early before his adolscent stage and spidey powers that went out of haywire the moment his heat started, leaving him to thrash around the city, running away from his family. Wade Wilson, an alpha, who happens to be a professional mercenary for hire, is now paid to catch this mutant, and try and calm him down by “any means necessary” because Peter, even as an omega is swrecking havoc amongst the city. [ 1/2 ] Of course, Wade takes those words seriously, and decides to just do that solution by first, capturing and drugging the young omega, and then, placing him in what could be described as a special and adjustable breeding stand in Wade’s attempts to calm Peter down. [ 2/2 ]

One Fear (Two Fear), Red Rear (Pink Rear) (Note: Now this is where “read the tags first” is applicable af. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you dude) Anonymous said: Hello, another one for you: Deadpool adopts MCU Spidey and treats him like his actual child. That is until Peter starts growing up more and Wade can't help but feel attracted to him. At around age 15, Peter starts actively trying to seduce Wade. Wade resists, but in the end gives in. My kingdom for hardcore daddy kink, Sub!Peter, Wade calling him a good boy/baby boy.

Wo Rauch Ist (this fic is fucking gold) "Someone needs to write a ‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU"

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state-of-longing · 5 years

Note

53 reddie pls?

This was a one-shot I had already half-written so thank you for this prompt! It got me to finish a year old WIP. I hope you like it. Keep an eye out for a few references from The OC.

53. “Are you jealous? That’s cute.”

‘I don’t like him.’

‘Who? Tony?’

‘Oh, is that his name?’

‘Beep beep, Richie...’ It was quite early in the school day for Beverly to be exasperated with him, it didn’t usually happen until after the lunch bell. She was resting her head on her locker, trying to find some relief as Richie spoke animatedly in her ear.

‘I thought his name was Gerald...’

‘Richie —’

‘Or Assface. It’s easy to get those confused.’

Richie hadn’t met Tony, he only knew that he transferred to Derry High a week ago and was sitting next to Stan in AP History. He didn’t even know he’d been introduced to the other Losers until two seconds ago when he saw them all congregated in front of Stan’s locker.

‘Don’t do this Richard...’

‘Do what, my dear?’

But now he’d seen Tony talking to all of his friends as though he’d known them for years. And something about the whole scene just bothered him. Something about the way Eddie was hanging on to his every word made him incredibly annoyed...

‘Don’t get jealous of the new kid.’

‘Jealous? Who’s jealous? Why would I be jealous of Joseph?’

‘Oh, so you don’t care that Eddie is hanging onto his every word right now?’

That was the annoying part about talking to Beverly Marsh, she always saw through the bullshit. Even though she’d hit the nail right on the head, Richie would never admit that to her. He’d never admit that the thought of Eddie enjoying anyone else’s company, especially that of someone who was ‘conventially’ attractive and kind of smart, bothered him. Not at all. So instead, Richie did what he’d perfected over the years - he deflected.

‘Smoke another bowl, Molly Ringwald—’

‘I fucking hate when you —’

‘— I don’t care that Eddie thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. I care about my friends and I just don’t trust that guy.’

‘Give me one reason why?’

‘...his eyes are too close together.’

‘You’re an idiot.’

‘And the guy has 20/20 vision? What the fuck is up with that?’

Before Richie could continue on his tirade about assholes who don’t wear glasses, he was interrupted by obnoxiously loud laughter coming from the group by Stan’s locker.

This was a development that was disturbing to Richie for two reasons:

1. Stan was laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard Stanley ‘Urine’ laugh. Ever. And he’d known that kid his whole life. It wasn’t even a little polite chuckle hidden behind a hand or that handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. This was a giant belly laugh that echoed down the hallway. It was a laugh that took over his whole body and made his curls bounce. Stan Uris was fucking snorting with laughter.

2. Eddie was bent over, leaning on Bill’s shoulder as he too was overcome with laughter. Even more horrifying was that when he stood back up he had tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight felt like being punched in the gut. The only time he’d ever seen Eddie laugh like that was because of a joke Richie had made. Eddie only laughed like that at his jokes.

As far as he could tell, this Tony asshole wasn’t even telling a real zinger. Instead, he was walking up and down the hall doing some stupid bird impression. His arms were wings and his legs were bent at the knees as he waddled around. That impression was really that funny?

Richie knew from experience that he couldn’t take the rest of his friend’s reactions as any indicator for how funny this guy was. Bill was chuckling but ole’ Big Bill had never told a joke in his entire life. Sweet Haystack was so nice he would laugh just out of politeness. Richie wished Mike went to school with them because that guy was at least an arbiter of comedic taste.

‘Wow, Tony is pretty funny,’ Beverly sounded far too amused as she picked at lint on Richie’s shirt.

That comment also ruled out Bev.

‘No he’s not. Why would you say that?’

She smiled knowingly and Richie shook away her fussing hands. He hated that smile and the power it held over him. How did she just know everything?

‘Just the laughs coming from Eddie. And Stan. Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Stan laugh.’

‘He’s not funny.’

The laughing continued as Tony continued his impression and relished in the group’s attention. The guy was driving the joke into the ground. What an amateur.

‘He’s big. That’s not necessarily funny’, Richie continued and tried to distract himself from the dull ache in his chest as he watched Eddie follow the group towards their next class. His eyes were shining, cheeks flushed from all the laughter and Richie wished he had caused it. ‘And the guy does impressions? That’s just so cheap.’

‘Richie. All you do is impressions,’ Beverly’s smile faded as she closed her locker and turned to face him. Richie had a sneaking suspicion his poker face wasn’t holding up.

He really couldn’t handle the pity today.

‘Got any smokes Red? I need to get outta here.’

——

Richie had been trying to study for his physics quiz for over two hours and nothing was sinking in. All he had been able to think about all night was Eddie and that laugh. Daydreaming about Eddie wasn’t a new pastime for Richie, he’d been doing it since he was 13 years old, but this time he felt something else.

Something that made all of his ugly insecurities rise up like bile in his throat. Kicking back from his desk, giving up on studying altogether, he stood in front of his full-length mirror and sighed. This was as good as it was gonna get.

Mr ‘I Have One Impression and Will Ram It Down Your Throat’ was conventionally handsome, Richie supposed. He seemed the type who liked participating in school sports unironically and he had the build to match. He was tan and had effortlessly styled hair that just screamed cool and casual.

Richie was almost seventeen and still hadn’t grown into his limbs. He was all gangly bones and arms and legs. He was so pale that if sun touched any part of his skin he burned to a crisp. That meant he copped an earful from Eddie who was always chastising him for not wearing sunscreen. His hair now ruefully curled in a way that was nowhere near cool or casual. Just messy.

On impulse, just to see if any definition had taken over his body or he’d suddenly been bitten by a radioactive spider, Richie pulled off his t-shirt. Nope, still shaped like a beanpole. He could see why Eddie would pay slightly more attention to Tony. Maybe tall, tan and unfunny was what Eddie was into. Maybe that’s who he wanted as a best friend now.

Or more. God, it hurt to think he could be wanting more...

‘Do you want some alone time with yourself?’

Richie was so wrapped up in his own pity party he hadn’t heard Eddie climb up the stairs to his bedroom. Richie’s parents were so used to Eddie hanging out at their house they just let him in now without question. That meant Richie was often caught in painful moments like this.

He was going to say something back, maybe a joke from his back catalogue about jacking off to thoughts of Eddie’s mom, but then he realised his shirt was off. Richie thought he saw a blush come across Eddie’s cheeks as he scanned his bare torso but a wave of embarrassment overtook those thoughts and he clumsily pulled his shirt back on.

‘Jeez Eds, take a picture next time. It’ll last longer.’

As he pulled the shirt over his head, glasses askew in his haste, he saw Eddie flip him off in the reflection of the mirror. Then he flung himself onto Richie’s bed, grabbing a comic book and making himself comfortable like he always did.

Richie took a moment to admire him under the guise of looking in the mirror. He forgot Eddie was wearing that blue collared shirt today...that was definitely a favourite.

‘Where were you this afternoon?’ Eddie’s voice cut through and Richie jumped, mortified that once again he’d gotten caught up in thoughts of his best friend.

‘Ditched with Bev. Hung out down at the quarry for a bit.’

‘Did you forget we were supposed to do something after school? I had no excuse to skip out on dinner with Sonia.’

Richie hadn’t forgotten. He normally took any excuse to spend more time with Eddie after school. But he’d felt like being petty today. Richie let out a huff and sat down on the bed, his knees knocking into Eddie’s just to annoy him.

‘Oh, you didn’t hang out with Larry today?’

Eddie frowned, the wheels in his head turning as he put down the comic. ‘Who the fuck is Larry?’

Richie just shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as he too picked up a comic and pretended to flick through the pages. If Eddie didn’t know who Richie was talking about then maybe he didn’t think he was so memorable...

‘Wait, do you mean Tony? The guy from Stan’s history class?’

...or not.

Richie rolled his eyes and continued to look down, ‘Oh is that his name? I thought it was Jim Carrey...’

A feeling of white-hot annoyance ran down Richie’s spine and he continued spitefully when Eddie didn’t respond.

‘You know since he’s such a fan of physical comedy.’

‘Are you jealous?’ Eddie scoffed out, pushing Richie’s arm so he dropped the comic and had to look at him. His eyes were shining mischievously in the dim light of the bedroom and any thoughts of annoyance left Richie immediately. ‘That’s cute.’

Richie had to remember to catch his breath at the sight of him. Did he just say cute? Cute. That’s cute. He’s cute...

But then Eddie started to laugh, bringing Richie back to reality and any feeling of hope was squashed immediately. Richie tried to recover by pushing him back onto the bed as he continued to giggle.

‘Well, you thought he was fucking hilarious...’

‘Because he made Stan laugh! Stan! His snort was the highlight of my day!’

‘So you were laughing at Stan?’

‘Well yeah...like we always do. Tony’s bird impression wasn’t really funny. Like he’s big but big isn’t funny.’

Richie’s heart soared as Eddie decided the conversation was over and snatched up the comic he had dropped.

‘That’s exactly what I thought.’

Richie couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he tried to control his heart rate. So much for a poker face, he was too happy. A small smile also graced Eddie’s features and he paused before opening the latest X-Men.

‘You have a smudge on your glasses again, doofus. How do you even see out of these things?’

Without hesitating, Eddie grabbed the frames off Richie’s face and started cleaning them with the bottom of his shirt. Richie couldn’t see a damn thing but knew his cheeks were burning in a way he couldn’t control.

‘So how about tomorrow? We could go to the arcade we haven’t been there in a while.’

Richie broke out his trance and quickly snatched his glasses back before Eddie could notice his hands start shaking. An overwhelming feeling of powerlessness and shame ran through his veins in a cold trickle. He hadn’t been back to that place in so long. He didn’t want to start now.

‘Nah Eds, the arcade is for babies,’ Richie cleared his throat and swallowed down the need to throw up. Before Eddie could protest he quickly continued, ‘How about we rent a movie? We can watch it in your room so I can pop in for some sweet lovin’ with Mrs K.’

Eddie looked concerned for a brief moment before frowning in disgust. Richie breathed out in relief, hoping he’d changed that subject for the time being. Deflection- it was his speciality nowadays.

‘Sure thing, asshole. Is The Mask available to rent?’ Eddie smiles knowingly and any feeling of hopelessness disappears from Richie’s mind for a moment. Only Eddie can do that to him.

‘Nice callback. You, me and Jim Carrey - it’s a date.’

And that slipped out so fast that Richie didn’t even have time to panic. He just had to play it cool and ignore the way his heart beat wildly in his chest.

But when he looked over at Eddie, he was smiling to himself, a slight flush taking over his cheeks.

‘See, now that’s funny.’

send me a prompt or request. i write reddie, mileven and jopper.

#reddie #it #my writing #writing prompt #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #i hope you guys are enjoying these #sorry it took so long #it just kept growing and growing

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sinfulwonders · 4 years

Note

👀

Have a different despair disease Kokichi WIP. This one is near completion, but I just felt like something was off about it and never could figure it out to post it! So now it gets to see the light of day because of this WIP challenge :P

Nothing but the Truth

When Kokichi awoke in his dorm room to the sound of the morning announcement, something felt off. The room felt colder than usual and his head was pounding. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead and stumbled out of bed.

Am I getting sick?

Kokichi made his way to his bathroom and was taken aback by how pale his already snow white skin looked. His eyes looked sunken in, as if he hadn’t slept in days, while his purple locks clung to his sweaty forehead.

“I look like shit…” Kokichi mumbled aloud, frowning.

He staggered back towards his warm bed, but before he made it there he heard an all too familiar sound:

DING DONG BING BONG

“All students report to the gym for an announcement! And that means ALL students!” Monokuma’s voice rung out loudly through the speakers, causing Kokichi’s aching head to throb even more.

On an average day Kokichi spent more time on his appearance than he would care to admit, but today he barely got his shirt on correctly. He cursed the clasps as he struggled. But eventually, the sickly boy made his way to the gym.

At the entrance, Kokichi was greeted by a smiling Maki.

“Good morning Kokichi!!!” She beamed, sweat forming under her bangs.

“Umm…” Kokichi had no idea how to respond to this.

Maki’s eyes got wide with concern, “What’s the matter Kokichi?”

What the hell is this? Maki has never said a nice thing to me; is she stealing my shtick and trying to be sarcastic? Is she trying to tease me? Well I guess I need to teach her who’s she’s messing with.

Kokichi rounded up as much of what little strength he had in his current state and gave her one of his best smirks. He answered with as much enthusiasm as he could-

“I feel horrible, Maki. I think I may be sick.”

What the hell was that? I went in to mock her, tell her I feel *absolutely wonderful*, but that’s not what happened…What the hell is going on?

As the rest of the class wandered in, they suddenly heard a laugh at the front of the gym.

“Puhuhuhuhu!”

Monokuma landed on the podium, and lifted his arms in the air, like a gymnast does after a landing, “Listen up, Kiddos! Back by popular demand: The Despair Disease!”

Popular demand? Well that supports my theory that this dumb game is being shown to…someone... But what the hell is the despair disease?

“Now some of you may have noticed that a few of your friends are acting strange. And some of you may be feeling pretty under the weather by now. Well welcome to your Killing Game Motive! Since none of you have had the balls to kill anyone, we’re gonna switch up some of those pesky personalities of yours!”

“Switch up our personalities?” Spoke up the timid detective, hiding under his hat.

“Yep! Cool innit? The despair disease has a pesky side effect! Besides making you feel like shit and nearly killing you, it also effects your personality! Each effect on a person is different, but as the saying goes: opposites attract! Look at Maki for example! Usually so stoic and calm! But today she’s as friendly as ever! That’s why she has the Bubbly disease! Now I gave you that one for free, but you’ll have to figure out the other students that have it yourself! But watch out, Kiddos. It’s contagious!”

As Monokuma said those last words and disappeared from the podium, everyone took a step back from one another. Only Monokuma’s wretched laugh echoed through the silent room. It was a while before anyone spoke.

Finally Maki smiled and said, “That’s weird what Monokuma said, cuz I feel great! I don’t feel diseased or despaired at all! Guess he was wrong!” She gave a peppy shrug and began to skip away.

“Wait Maki! We need to stick together!” yelled Kaito, the spiky haired boy beginning to follow her.

Kokichi rolled my eyes.

Why couldn’t that big oaf get the disease? His personality is infuriating.

“Kaito is right, Maki. We need to figure out who exactly has this supposed disease…” Shuichi started strong, and then trailed off as the group looked at him. He pushed his hat down a bit to hide a slight blush.

Kokichi caught it and sighed, “What a cutie…” He instantly clamped his hand over his mouth. Luckily, no one heard him.

What the hell was that? Why did I say that out loud? Could this be the despair disease?

Kokichi slunk in the background so as not to draw attention to himself, as the group discussed options and eventually opted to have the infected people be confined to their rooms. Kokichi rolled his eyes.

I really need to keep investigating this stupid place. I can’t afford these idiots locking me up for who knows how long.

Kokichi stifled a cough as they asked everyone who was feeling ill, disoriented, or just different to raise their hands. The boy averted his gaze from the others and did not raise his hand.

“Kokichi said he was sick!” Maki sang, her hands behind her back as she swayed back and forth like an excited child. Her pigtails completed the look.

Oh my fucking God Maki. The one time I want you to keep your damn mouth shut you’re feeling extra ready to share. Just my luck.

Kokichi glared and then quickly plastered his signature devious smirk on his face.

“Kokichi- you don’t look so good…” Shuichi took a step towards him.

“You’re right, I feel terrible!” Kokichi blurted and then threw his hand over his mouth. He had tried to reply with an insult and a vague non answer to the question, but had said what he was actually thinking.

Miu burst out laughing, “Oh man! Monokuma did say it made people the opposite! It looks like Cock-ichi can’t lie!”

Kokichi glared and started to retort back. But he choked his words back and just looked at the ground.

I wouldn’t be able to say anything that I wanted to anyway. This is so boring.

Kokichi looked back up at the group, “I’m going to my room. I’m bored.”

Good, I was able to say that at least. But without my lies…I guess I need to wait for this crap to wear off.

Kokichi took a few steps, glaring daggers at a still snickering Miu, but as he passed her he faltered. He started coughing and he almost fell over. While Miu stopped smiling, Shuichi ran up to the boy.

“Kokichi!” he cried as he helped him up, “Do you need help back to your room?”

Ugh I hate this. I’m so freaking helpless. And of course, Shuichi is the first to come to my aid. He’s always so freaking considerate. Bleh. Boring. I just need to tell him that he can go to Hell.

Kokichi rolled his eyes and spit out the word, “Yes.” He instantly frowned and his eyes shot to the floor.

Shuichi smiled and turned back to the others, “Will you make sure that Maki gets back to her room, Kaito?” Kaito nodded and Shuichi glanced at Maki who pouted, “And actually stays there?” Kaito gave him a wide grin and a thumbs up.

Bleh, I wish I could say anything to wipe that stupid “heroic” grin off of Kaito’s face. Actually, I just wish I could say anything. This is the worssssst.

Shuichi and Kokichi made their way back to the dorms in silence. Partway through Kokichi began to lose balance again, so Shuichi insisted that Kokichi lean on him for support. Kokichi replied with an exhausted nod. Kokichi, being the smaller of the two males, forced Shuichi to lean over so that he could drape his arm around his shoulder. He leaned his body into the taller boy, and they began their journey once again.

He smells nice…

“Umm, thanks Kokichi…” Shuichi stammered.

“Oh god, did I say that out loud?” Kokichi’s face turned bright red.

Shuichi gave the boy a kind smile, “Yeah, you kind of did…”

Kokichi eyes immediately shot to the ground.

Jesus. I must be getting delirious. This is the most embarrassing day of my life.

The two continued, making the journey in a now awkward silence. As they got to the Kokichi’s room, Kokichi wrestled with the key until finally opening the door to his messy room. Shuichi helped the boy to his bed and sat him down.

“Do you…need anything else?” Shuichi looked down at his feet as he said it.

For you to leave!

“I’m hungry…and thirsty,” Kokichi whispered.

Ugh God dammit!

“I can go get Kirumi to make you something! What would you like?” Shuichi exclaimed, excited that he could be useful in some way.

Kokichi blushed at the enthusiastic boy, trying to ignore how cute he looked when he was excited, “I guess…soup.”

“Of course! I’ll be right back!”

The detective ran off, on a mission. When the door shut, Kokichi used the opportunity to let out a loud, dramatic sigh. He fell back and hit the pillow.

Shuichi is the worst person for me to be around right now. He’s a detective. He knows how to get information out of people, and now I can’t even lie to him. Also…it sucks that he’s so damn hot.

Kokichi had been attracted to Shuichi since the first time he had met him. He was a quiet, socially awkward boy, but the aura of mystery that he had around him was intoxicating. He seemed like he was always thinking, that his wheels were always spinning, coming up with new theories about everything.

Has he ever spent any of long periods of time thinking about me? Trying to figure me out?

Not only was Shuichi obviously incredibly intelligent with an eye for detail that no one could match, but the detective was incredibly caring and genuine about his feelings.

He knows the intricacies of the world, and how corrupt most people’s intentions are, and still chooses to wear his heart on his sleeve. It’s…I can’t do that…

As Kokichi was absorbed in his thoughts of Shuichi, the boy in question knocked.

“I have soup!”

“Come in…” Kokichi coughed.

Shuichi entered, carrying a very well presented tray, obviously set by Kirumi. The soup smelled amazing, and when the detective handed it over, Kokichi couldn’t help but take a big gulp.

“Ahh!”

“Oh! It’s still hot!” Shuichi exclaimed, quickly handing Kokichi the glass of water on the tray. Shuichi tried not to smile at Kokichi fanning his tongue with surprise. The Ultimate Supreme Leader looked so childlike and innocent.

As Kokichi gulped down the water, his eyes made contact with the concerned detective’s. He gave him a sheepish grin and reddened, “I should have known…”

Shuichi couldn’t help but let out a laugh, surprised at how strangely adorable Kokichi was acting.

“You have such a cute laugh, Shuichi!” Kokichi exclaimed, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, his face now entirely crimson.

“Th-thanks, Kokichi,” Shuichi decided to take the compliment in stride. After all, Kokichi couldn’t help it, and it was a rare instance where he knew Kokichi wasn’t secretly insulting him.

Kokichi placed the tray next to his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

I wasn’t even trying to say anything and that slipped out! The truth is getting harder and harder to contain! Why is this happening to me??

Kokichi felt his bed sink with pressure. He looked up to see that Shuichi had sat next to the sprawled boy. He placed a comforting hand on the boy’s upper back.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Kokichi,” Shuichi said with a compassionate smile, “But can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”

Kokichi thought about it for a moment. Then slowly nodded.

“Well this disease is obviously very difficult for you. And I’m sure most people would hate it…I mean… not getting a say on whether you give a truthful, untruthful, or even partially true answer…would suck. But you’re really struggling, Kokichi. Why is it that you lie constantly? Do you hate the truth?”

Kokichi pondered, then slowly, logically, stated, “That’s more than one question.” He smirked at his ability to still give at least a partially sarcastic response.

Shuichi chuckled, “Then the first one then. Why is it that you lie constantly?”

Do I even know the answer to that question? I’m sure I did initially, but I’ve been lying to myself for so long that I don’t know if any answer I give would be a truly honest answer.

“To protect myself. Fear, insecurities, feelings… they all can be detrimental. But lies protect you. From enemies, friends… even yourself. Lying is my armor.” Kokichi left his mouth agape as the answer escaped his lips. He knew it was true even though he hadn’t been able to come up with it on his own.

Shuichi nodded in understanding, “Thank you for your honesty, Kokichi.”

Kokichi smiled. He tried to say no problem, but instead said, “I hadn’t even admitted that to myself before.”

I hate this stupid, goddamn disease!

The boy punched the pillow in frustration. Shuichi reached out instinctually and touched Kokichi’s forearm. The boy jerked away from the detective and glared.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Apologized the embarrassed detective, “I’ll l-let you get some rest…”

The boy quickly exited the room, assuming that the other was angry with him. As Shuichi closed the door, Kokichi’s face softened into a regretful frown, and he let a quiet word escape his lips.

“Stay…”

----------------

Kokichi awoke with a start. He tried to jump up, but then the previous day’s events hit him like a truck. Or that was possibly the feeling of his head pounding. The sick boy recalled the illness that had befallen the group of students, effecting him and Maki, at the very least. He also recalled the unusual interaction with Shuichi and his face flushed.

He probably thinks I hate him. Well… that’s actually a good thing for both of us. But still, it bothers me if I made him sad for no reason. And it pisses me off that it bothers me!

Thinking about that made Kokichi’s face turn an even darker shade of red. It was in that moment that he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Kokichi silently groaned at how friendly his voice sounded.

Shuichi opened the door slowly, “You s-sound like you feel better.”

As he entered he saw Kokichi’s extremely red face and his eyes widened.

“Did your fever get worse?” He ran over and placed his hand on Kokichi’s forehead, “You feel really warm!”

He suddenly backed up several steps, “I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean to invade your personal space. I was just w-worried.”

“I don’t mind it when it’s you, Shuichi.”

Great. Thanks despair disease. Wording my answer like some stupid school girl with a crush. Appreciate that.

Luckily for Kokichi, Shuichi didn’t read too much into it and just sighed in relief, “That’s good to hear,” he paused and presented an embarrassed smile, “I felt bad about yesterday, and came to apologize.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was irritated with the disease,” Kokichi sighed.

That wasn’t too bad. That was along the lines of what I actually wanted to say.

Shuichi smiled wider, “Oh good!” he then backtracked, “Oh not good that you were irritated! It sucks that you are dealing with the despair disease! But good that we’re… good!”

Kokichi smiled weakly as he listened to the nervous boy’s ramblings. His head pounded more intensely as ever, and before he knew it, he fell back into his pillow and fainted.

As he drifted into blackness, he heard the boy exclaim in nervous confusion. He replied to quell his fear, or at least he tried.

“You’re so cute…when you’re worried about…me.”

------------

Kokichi was pulled back to the land of the living when he felt a sudden cold sensation on his head.

“Ah!”

“Oh he’s awake. Splendid.”

Kokichi opened his eyes to Kirumi’s face in front of his own.

“Aww. You’re not Shuichi.” Kokichi face flared red as the words escaped his lips.

“Oh, I’m r-right here... Kokichi,” the detective pulled his hat in front of his face to hide his blush as he answered.

Kirumi seemed unfazed by the interaction, “Keep the cold washcloth on his forehead and change it every few hours. His fever has gone down a bit. Now I must go help tend to Angie. Himiko and Tenko are having a difficult time.”

Shuichi thanked her as she left.

“So it is spreading after all?” Kokichi asked, with genuine curiosity.

“Y-yeah.”

“Well you should go so that you don’t catch it,” Kokichi said matter-of-factly.

And so I don’t say anything embarrassing. Stupid, cute Shuichi. This is all his fault.

“Do you really want me to go?”

Kokichi shook his head yes while his mouth said, “No…I’d like you to stay- UGH!”

Kokichi covered his eyes with his forearm and with an exasperated sigh said, “I hate this place. You know that? I hate it so much. I just want to go home.”

Shuichi gave the small boy a caring look, “You always act like you’re enjoying the killing game. Being here. I guess it makes sense that that would be a lie.”

“Yeah. Who would ever want to play a game that you’re forced to play?” He sat up and pouted at Shuichi.

The sight made the detective grin, “Well, the good thing is that you look like you feel better than yesterday!”

Kokichi placed his hands behind his head and leaned against his headboard, “I do feel better. Still can’t lie though! Neeheehee”

It’s not as clever or eloquent as what I was going to say, but I’ll take it! As long as I don’t say anything else embarrassing about Shuichi, I should be good!

“It’s good to hear your laugh again, Kokichi,” Shuichi grinned, “Now can I do anything for you?”

Ugh his smile is so sexy. Ignore it. You’re hungry right? Ask for some soup, Kokichi.

“You can kiss me!” Kokichi exclaimed.

That is not soup! Oh my fucking God, that’s not soup at all. Fuck fuck fucking shit fuck-

Shuichi leaned over and placed his lips on the supreme leader’s own, blushing all the while. It was just a second long peck, and then the detective pulled away and quickly pulled down his hat lower than either one of them thought it could possibly go.

“W-why did you do that, Shuichi?” A bewildered Kokichi stuttered.

“…Well you did t-tell me to…” Shuichi replied.

Kokichi frowned, “That’s so not a good answer.”

“It just made m-me so happy.”

“What?” Kokichi looked up in surprise. He saw that Shuichi eyes were wide and honest.

“The d-disease. I was so thrilled that you would have to tell the truth, because I could finally figure out what you really thought of me. I like you, Kokichi. You’re…fascinating. And then when you told me to kiss you…but you probably didn’t even mean to. I’m such a selfish person. You’ve been suffering and I’ve been taking advantage of that. I just w-wanted to be around you.”

A single tear rolled down the boy’s face. Kokichi reached out and slowly removed the detective’s hat to discover a messy mop of navy hair underneath. He also finally got a full view of Shuichi’s eyes.

They’re beautiful. From under the hat they looked grey, but as the florescent light hit, they shone a strange mix of silver and gold.

Kokichi reached out and wiped away the tears flowing from those eyes. He then leaned over and kissed the shaking boy’s lips. It was gentle and warm, very unlike Kokichi’s regular demeanor.

Shuichi’s eyes widened and he kissed back. He broke it again and stammered, “B-but…”

“Shuichi. I am so happy you’re here. And I’m actually happy that I had to tell you the truth. But I’m happiest of all that you kissed me.”

I had no intention of being this honest with him. I had no intention of being honest with him in the slightest. But in this case, the truth…it wasn’t so bad.

Shuichi grinned and tackled the smaller boy.

“Ugh, I am still sick, ya know!”

The two giggled and Shuichi planted a kiss on the ultimate supreme leader.

#oumasai #saiouma #omasai #saioma #danganronpa #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #wip #ask meme

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cal-cium-the-nerd · 4 years

Text

Writing Update

Ok. So.

I took a little break from writing. Mental health related.

(I’m very glad to have such nice followers that I was never asked for updates/ to post writings/ etc during this whole time period! It might also be because my writing sucks but hey let’s focus on the positives here)

Break is officially over and I am back to writing.

I’d also like to share what I’m currently working on/how my WIPs are doing right now.

wdwfgh

The... word count hasn’t changed much (sorry). But I cleaned up/organized a few things! So. That’s nice. I hope.

(As of now, there are 38 parts outlined. It says 34 in the pic bc i had to squeeze a few in and they appear as stuff like ‘13′ ‘13.1′ ‘13.2′, but that’s just me being lazy and not wanting to edit all the numbers) (All the parts that are stated in the pic are the ones I’ve already started writing. No I don’t write linearly, yes it’s a mess. Yes 5 arcs might be a bit much. I might end up fusing arcs 4 and 5 together idk) (The red squares are for censoring chapter names/spoilers) (i have fics i want to write for arc 5 but rn they’re mostly only slightly-connected drabbles, so i don’t count them as really ‘outlined’)

(In my defense, this is a pretty long project and the whole posting-while-i’m-still-not-sure-what’s-going-to-happen-next thing doesn’t go very well with me. I’m always paranoid of suddenly thinking up a great subplot which’d need early foreshadowing but having already posted the parts where i’d have to place the foreshadowing)

Mother of Learning Short Stories

YES I AM STILL WORKING ON THESE (i started some of these in NOVEMBER of LAST. YEAR. pls sue me.)

no word count because the doc has other stuff there as well

‘(F)’ means it’s a wip I still have to Finish. [C-RW] means it’s a Completed WIP which needs Rewriting (I usually put [C] before a WIP’s name when I’ve finished it) The ‘/’ means it’s at least partially posted on ao3.

(The ‘I do not know what this is’ fic will probably end up as part of the drabbles, it’s a fic that started out serious and rapidly turned into crack)

��Unnamed WIP

Then... Surprise! You might remember that one time I made a post about an original fantasy WIP which had a plant/tree humanoid species called Dendrians. This WIP is mostly for my own enjoyment since the plot’s not really strong and I mostly just write every idea I’ve always wished to see more of in fantasy stories (and lots of lgbt characters bc im weak)

this WIP does not currently have a name but it’s my baby (it’s almost 2 years old...) (How the hell have I not named it yet... what a horrible parent i am) (i never even tried to)

I’m not gonna give a word count and it’s not yet divided by chapters so I’m just gonna leave a synopsis here in case someone’s interested.

Humanity has long since lived in decline. The world is home to a number of different species, all of which have coexisted together since the beginning of time (peacefully or not-so-peacefully). Humans don’t have many advantages compared to entire communities which don’t need anything else more than air, light and water to thrive, or people who need no more than 3 hours of sleep per day yet are able to regularly design technology way beyond that of the simple human mind. Species which need only a couple of years to reach maturity, or who are able to punch through walls as infants. Giants, dwarfs, elves, there are all kinds of people out there, and humans are slowly losing their presence in the world. In the past few decades, they’ve reached a point where they might go entirely extinct if something isn’t done to save them.

Etta is one of the few remaining scattered humans, who’s looking for a mythical land her parents used to tell her stories of as a kid where one of the last human cities still stands. Her exotic race attracts attention wherever she goes, though, and her adventures (or misadventures, as she sees them) are not few.

Her loyal companion, a child named Liepa, is a Dendrian who decided to forsake their culture and tribe in order to travel the world beside Etta and explore everything there is to see. Together, the two will have to find a way to defend themselves and carry on towards unknown lands.

(I couldn’t find a way to fit it in the synopsis but Etta also eventually becomes a mage! I’m still working on the magic system though) (...It’s more complicated than I thought and it’s hard, okay?)

(...If someone’s interested in this story send me an ask or smt and I’ll happily rant about it some more :D)

Stubborn

So. Ehem. Haha.

I’m writing a one piece fanfiction.

I know I should be focusing on the mol ones but I simply couldn’t stop thinking about this until I sat down and wrote it and... and it’s a long fanfiction.

I don’t want to give a synopsis for this one because I think it’ll be funnier if people only find out what the hell I’ve cracked up in my head once it’s posted (or at least the first chapter is- this is a chaptered fic. which is very weird for me)

Let’s just say it has 2 main characters (no shipping though- 100% gen), one of which has thousands of fics written for them and the other one which has... 11 fics. of which only one has them as anything more than a one-time side-appearance. and that one fic is a 300-word drabble (my wip is already over 4,5k words so apparently i’ve already written the longest fic which has them as one of the main characters??) (they’re not a new onepi character) (they’re not... very important either but hey! :( i like that character)

Conclusion

(this is giving me war-like high school flashbacks)

I’m gonna keep writing regularly, and I’ll try to advance all these wips as much as I can. I’ll do my best to try and post something mol-related... uh... soon. I’ll also try to post Stubborn’s first chapter (it’s my new baby and I want people to read it. Sorry wdwgfh i swear I’ll give you more attention soon). I probably won’t be posting the unnamed fantasy wip any time soon (especially bc I don’t even really have a platform in mind for it) but I’ve already talked my dad’s ears off about it and he won’t let me mention it aloud anymore so if anyone’s interested in it I could post drabbles/worldbuilding pieces of it.

Thank you all for waiting during all this time I wasn’t very present on tumblr (or ao3). I’m still writing, and I still have lots to give to the mol fandom, so stay tuned! <3

#writing update #fanfiction #original writing #mol #wdwgfh #stubborn #long post

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onewhoturns · 4 years

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wip wednesday 4/8

so there’s well over 100 pages of this au now, so have some more of it

“Why do you think you wouldn’t be someone’s first choice?”

“I mean, I guess I can understand being Kai’s first choice. I told him about-- I freaked out, I just-- I stalled out… I don’t know.” Alex shakes her head, frustrated at trying to figure out her words. Finally, when she speaks, there’s a hard edge of cynicism hidden under her seemingly lighthearted sarcasm. “I told him my brother died. Sad girl gets a kiss. You can’t exactly send someone home after that.”

“But he put you as his top pick-- allegedly.”

Rolling her eyes, Alex shrugs, hands gesturing with quickly building nervous energy. “I don’t know! I can’t figure it out. This whole game is beyond me. I don’t get it.”

“You were someone’s top pick, Alex.”

Again, Alex shakes her head, stubborn. “I’m a novelty.”

Delia is quiet for a minute. Alex turns to her, brows raised in challenge. Finally, Delia asks, “Want to stop for now? Come back for confessional later?”

It takes her a second, but only just. “Yeah.” One deep breath, and Alex forces herself to calm, at least slightly. “...Yeah. I need a minute.”

“Come on, I’ll find you a room.”

“Go ahead and set up, I’ll get Carla.”

Jonas nods, heading into room 3 as per usual. He must’ve missed Ben, cause the sound equipment is half-set, the boom up but the wires and box still in the case. Unpacking his gear from the trip to the second location, it’s a surprisingly quick set. Maybe it’s just become habit over the course of the week; the set-up, the framing, the balance, all that.

“12, start rolling, she’s coming in hot.”

Yeah, Carla can do that. With the rig set, it’s easy to start recording and adjust the stand enough to aim for the door. He’s feeling pretty good, pretty confident, when the door opens again.

And then, of course, his stomach sinks.

“Oh. Hey, you’re back.” Alex’s surprise is evident, and her immediate hurt and quick shift to awkwardness.

Fucking liars. Manipulative fucking liars. He’s not doing this again, he said he wasn’t gonna do their dirty work.

Alex is slow to step in, eyes narrowing with a kind of wary confusion. “You ok?”

Fuck. Fucking- fuck. And now she’s said that, and that’ll be more proof of some kind of rapport for the producers, and-

Jonas quickly pivots the camera front again, shaking his head, face stony. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He looks back to Alex, whose look is only more questioning. She’s pulled a hoodie on over her dress from the elimination.

She opens her mouth to say something and Jonas quickly shakes his head, eyeing the mic.

Right. Right, they can’t talk for whatever bullshit reason. Alex’s confusion shifts to irritation because what the fuck, ignoring her? When she’s left in a room, awkwardly perched in front of two silent people? When they’d been chatting so easily before? What the fuck.

She lets out a short breath, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it, arms crossed over her chest. “Where’s Delia?”

“Same place as Ben, I expect.” His tone is chilly.

Alex’s lips twist, holding herself back from asking why are you so mad at me?

“Get her in the chair, 12.”

Fuck you.

Jonas’s hand goes to the comm in his ear, but he hesitates before he can pull it. He has a bad temper. He knows that. He can’t lose his job over it.

Instead of pulling it, Jonas just crosses his own arms, looking down at the ground, silently fuming.

Alex taps her foot impatiently. Finally, she just bundles the fabric of her sweatshirt around her mic, closing her fist over it to whisper. “This is stupid.”

Jonas is still looking at it. Then he realizes that, if this is a set up...

He holds up a finger, turning, and flips open the soft top of the sound equipment case. Of fucking course. His head falls back with a short angry sigh, and turns back to Alex to gesture to the boom mic, open handed. This is why. All the time.

Uncovering her mic, Alex takes a breath. “Give me a minute.” Her voice is calmer than she looks, and she bundles the mic again, crooking a finger at him.

No. Not going to happen.

Alex raises her eyebrows, challenging, and frees her mic again. “I’m gonna talk. Just give me a minute.”

That’s a threat. As proven when she covers her mic again and once more gestures him over.

Jonas rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and he’s not sure if he’s looking for mercy from God or from the Control Room upstairs. But he gives in.

Alex’s eyes shoot to the boom mic, and she gets herself into the opposite corner, continually beckoning him closer. Even when he stops a foot away she gives him a pointed look and gestures closer. In any other situation, the exasperated look she sends him - tugging her ear and pointing at him - would be entertaining. He can only give her a quizzical look.

Oh my god, you idiot.

Miming is obviously not going to work. He takes a wary half step forward, and she gives up on trying to get her point across, just reaching up to loop her hand around the back of his neck.

Jonas pulls away immediately, looking angry, and Alex throws her head back in frustration.

Point to lips. Point to ear. Grab him by the collar.

Yeah, he’s not happy about this. But she’s going to say something eventually no matter what. So he grits his teeth and backs her into the corner, ducking to whisper in her ear. “We’re not doing this ever again.”

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Somehow she manages to keep her voice almost completely silent. She’s doing better than him.

He tries not to hiss his answer. “It’s complicated. It’s not my job.”

“I thought we were friends, Jonas? What the fuck?” The f’s, the s’s, the k’s; her breath tickles his ear. It’s distracting.

“It’s. Complicated.”

“I want to talk to you.” Her hand in his collar tightens.

“Ff-” Ow. He shuffles a half step closer, hands bracing on the wall to keep her from banging his head into it, moving his face alongside hers instead of in front, until her hands are trapped between them to keep her grip in his collar from strangling him. “Fine.” He’s pissed. “On the record? Talk.” It’s hard to keep his voice soft, and there’s a bit of gritted teeth audible in his last sentiment: “But it’s not my job to talk back.”

“Fuck your job.”

Where the hell does she get off- “Fuck you.”

Her tone is tart, straight into his ear, more air than sound: “Buy me dinner first, asshole.”

“12, get her in the chair.”

Motherfucking-- Jonas’s hands ball into fists before he pushes off the wall, pulling out of her freshly-loosened grasp, and gesturing angrily to the chair in front of the camera.

She’s still irritated as hell. Jonas is more angry than she is, though, that much is apparent.

He’d been close enough that Alex could see - could hear - the monitor in his ear.

Letting her hoodie drop from around her mic, Alex’s eyes narrow at Jonas, who turns back to his camera. One deep breath in... Closing her eyes, she tries to remember what she’s supposed to be talking about. She focuses on clearing away the irritation that has her lips pursing and toe tapping in her slippers (no need for heels when that won’t be on camera).

Finally, she smoothes her face to something more guarded. She’s still not great at hiding her irritation, but that’s how she left the last interview as well. Chair time.

“Where were we?”

Jonas is shaking his head, arms once more folded over his chest. He’s not here to feed her questions. “Can’t tell you, I wasn’t here.”

“Right. I’ll try to remember, then.”

His head tilts back again, and he starts pacing.

“So… I got called last. Or - third. Meaning… two guys somehow were stupid enough to think I’m a catch.”

Jonas kicks a leg up against the wall in the corner, shooting her an unimpressed look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He’s not gonna talk. He’s not going to. Just shakes his head.

After a pause, Alex rolls her eyes. “Anyway.” She looks down at her hands. “What did I say before? At the very least, Kai gave me a pity point?”

“Why are you like this?” He can’t stop himself.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s not a pity point.”

She’s not trying to get snappish, but- “People don’t put me first, Jonas. That’s not how my life works.”

And Jonas just shakes his head. Fucker.

“You know the Frankie story. You heard about Cash-- the guy from Eugene.”

“Cash?”

“Don’t--” Alex puts her head in her hands. She hardly has a breath in before she groans. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she mutters. “I just…” She’s about to rub at her eyes when she feels the false eyelashes and has to stop herself. “I don’t know.” Her tone is clipped. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not a person people choose, I’m a person who’s convenient.”

He’s quiet. She glances up to see if he’s even still paying attention. He’s still propped up in the corner. Alex slumps in her chair, pulling her legs up and slinging an arm over the back, sleeve-covered hand running over her lips- “...Shit.” She stares at the smear of makeup on the fabric for a second, then just leans her head on her arm. “...I hate this.”

The room is quiet for a long few seconds.

She shakes her head again. “Like- this doesn’t make sense to me.” Already having ruined the fabric, Alex chews at her cuff for a second before straightening. “I feel like I should be happy and excited about this. And I know there are times where I would be - and I know I probably will be, eventually, because,” her tone is bitter, “-my whims are ever fickle - but right now, I don’t know. I guess I get initial attraction, that makes sense to me. I think I’m pretty conventionally attractive. ...In like… an alternative way.” Her eyes have darted off to the side and she lets out a short irritable breath.

“I get that they want to fuck me.” It’s blunt. “But I don’t know how I could possibly be more desirable than these other girls.” Alex shakes her head again, taking a deep breath, settling into calm again. A sort of resigned peace, as her body stills. “Who knows. ...Maybe they’ll come to their senses next week.”

Another long breath and she nods, gradually. “Right.” She looks to Jonas, face clear. “Am I good to go?”

He shrugs, so she doesn’t move. Finally, he speaks. “Not gonna wait for Delia?”

“Why should I? She’s not coming.” Alex doesn’t even look at the camera again, just standing up. “She did her job earlier. Now you’re doing yours.”

Is she really-

As soon as Alex is up, Jonas turns off the camera. She’s got one hand on the door handle but he grabs the other - quick, and lets go immediately - holding up a finger again as he steps to the sound monitor to turn off the boom.

It’s his turn to grab her by the collar - well, grab the mic, smothering it. He doesn’t have to whisper this time, though his voice is still low. “I told you it’s not my job, Alex, I didn’t ask for this-”

“I’m not mad about it.” She looks a little offended, but that might be because he’s got a hand closed around the neckline of her dress. “I like talking to you. I’m mad at production for lying to me.”

Jonas’s brow furrows. “What do-”

“I expected Delia, and apparently they never meant for her to show.” So she knows what she’s doing.

...Does she? Or maybe she does and she just trusts production not to catch all the little details. Or maybe she didn’t before but now she does? Or maybe she doesn’t understand the implications about their previous discussions?

“Let go, I need to get back out there. If you want to talk, find me later.”

“How the hell do I do-” But she’s already backed out of his hold, and then the door is open and shut in seconds.

#reality tv au #bartender au #wip wednesday #work in progress wednesday #jonalex #alex/jonas #my writing

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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Do you think it's better for views/comments/kudos to post a fic one chapter at a time or wait until it's finished and post the whole thing at once? I don't want to overwhelm readers with a lot at one time but I also wonder if it encourages audience engagement more if i take away the uncertainty of "am i going to get invested in this only to have the author not update?"

I’m gonna be completely honest here... I... personally... don’t really pay much attention to hits/kudos/comments. They’re nice, and I like getting “You have kudos!” emails and literally save every last one of them (I have a gmail folder called KUDOS where I stash them and weep about it occasionally), and I hoard comments like some sort of deranged dragon, but worrying about how and when I’m posting something might affect kudos and comments? Nah, sorry, I just... don’t care?

I will attempt to explain how *I personally* think about this.

I personally post stuff when I’m done writing it, and when it’s convenient for me to post.

I personally NEVER post a work in progress. First off, it’s entirely incompatible with the way I write. I actually, you know... edit what I write... before I post it. Not just chapter by chapter, but the work as a whole. Not everybody writes the way I do, though, and some folks are perfectly happy to post a chapter and call it done. I just... my brain will not let me do that. That’s not how I write.

I personally almost never read works in progress, either. Not out of worry that the author might not continue to update the fic, but more because I read far too much to try and read long fic in short bites over long periods of time like that. It’s just impractical. I’ve found that I, personally, tend to forget what a story was even about and get frustrated having to go back and skim the story to that point trying to remember. Out of the few fics I’ve started reading as works in progress, I think I’ve actually finished reading a grand total of ONE of them. I find, for me, it’s a really unpleasant way to read. I like to read an entire story at once, you know? Even if it takes me several days, or even *gasp* a week or more to get through the whole thing.

Part of that is due to the fact that I’m constantly writing my own fic, too, and once a fic I’m working on reaches a certain length, I feel like I’m using all my available brain space storing *THAT* work in progress. One unfinished fic in my brain is all I can handle at a time, apparently. :P

But I do know that some people love reading works in progress, and will read and comment throughout the entire process. Some folks really enjoy the feeling of participation, watching the work grow week by week and being along for the ride. So really, how you post is entirely up to you. If you want to watch that hit count jump every time you post a new chapter, if that motivates you to keep writing, then absolutely use that to keep yourself invested in telling the story.

I guess I can kind of understand about not wanting to overwhelm readers with a huge fic all at once, but you know... it’s a fic... they don’t *have* to read it all at once. It won’t self-destruct if they have to close AO3 for a few hours or days and come back to finish reading when they have time. If it’s split into logical and convenient chapters, they can pace themselves and read at their own speed, just like any reader of any commercially published novel would. Nothing says they have to read it all in one sitting, you know? Word count has never been something that has stopped me from reading a fic if the premise was interesting, and the storytelling was enjoyable to me.

But if the hit count is important to you, and you want to see it rise quickly, then posting a chapter at a time will artificially inflate that number for you. AO3 generates a new “hit” on a fic when someone opens it again after a few days. If you space out your new chapters to twice a week, or even weekly, then that will typically be more than enough time for AO3 to generate a fresh hit as all your previous chapter readers return to read the next installment. They aren’t technically “unique hits”, is what I’m saying. But it will drive the hit count up faster and higher than posting an entire fic at once will, especially if you’ve cultivated a loyal reader base.

If kudos are important to you, bear in mind that some readers don’t leave kudos until they’ve finished reading the entire fic (so won’t leave kudos on a WIP), and if someone leaves kudos after reading chapter 1, they won’t be able to leave additional kudos for successive chapters. Posting serially will very rapidly drive your “hits to kudos ratio” down, because returning readers generate hits but no new kudos. This does happen eventually, over the very long term, to long fic posted all at once, if you have readers return months or even years later to reread your story. But posting serially, you might go from a 10:1 hits to kudos ratio in the first week of posting to a 5:1 ratio in the second week. If you do post serially, bear this in mind, and try not to let it bother you. It just means all those returning readers like your fic enough to stick with it.

If comments are important to you, engage your readers. Some folks will never comment, some will leave a “Thanks” and some will write you novels. I consider all comments a bonus, and while I’m personally terrible about replying to them (see my comment above about hoarding them like a dragon... I save them up for a month or two at a time and go on reply binges, because I’m an emotional trainwreck who enjoys reducing myself to a wibbly puddle of goo and nothing does that to me quicker than people saying nice things about my writing), but if you start conversations with your commenters, it can foster a nice dialogue and inspire even more people to participate in the comments.

So for me, the quality of what I post is far more important to me than worrying about any of that^^. I post fic when it’s ready to be posted, when *I* am happy with it, and if other people like it enough to read, kudos, or leave comments on, then that’s fantastic.

I will, however, make a nice, hopefully attractive tumblr post for what I write. For short fics like the old 600~ word oneshot I tidied up and threw on AO3 yesterday, I’ll just post the whole thing on tumblr with a title in the header and a short description. For longer fic, I’ll make a graphic and provide rating, wordcount, tagging, and a synopsis in the post, maybe with a bit of teaser text from the first chapter below a cut, and a link to read it on AO3. And I will reblog it several times over the first few days after posting, and then again at the weekend if I posted during the week. That tends to give it as much exposure as possible to folks, and if it looks enticing enough (bearing in mind I make really awful graphics, but using a site like canva helps some), hopefully folks will reblog it and spread the word. Then occasionally I’ll reblog one of my old fics if I’m thinking about it, or when it’s seasonally appropriate, or whatever. Sometimes an old story finds an entirely new audience that way.

I hope this is in any way useful to you. It definitely won’t apply to everyone, but this is how I approach posting, at any rate. Since you asked me, I tried to answer as best I could.

Good luck with however you decide to post, and congrats on your writing!

#writing is hard #but only as hard as you make it on yourself I guess?#Anonymous

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sundaynightnovels · 5 years

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11/11/11 Tag Game (again!)

aaaand i’ve also been tagged by @fluffythewritingplant for a different set of questions!!! you have a lot of questions huh HAHA but they sound fun so thanks for tagging me in this! <3 1. What is your favorite part of writing? characters! characters interacting!! characters doing things! character dialogues!! characters characters characters! 2. Do you prefer reading or writing? HA i haven’t read a novel in a while. but yea i like them both but... yknow. how bout reading my own writing. i’m narcissistic like that 3. How many people have read your stuff? since the next question is specifically about irl, i’m assuming this is about online??? well, i guess all of yall on tumblr have seen my snippets and excerpts right heh (blatant advertising here) (also in case yall don’t know how i differentiate them, snippets are drabbles that i write outside of my main wip and excerpts come directly from the wip draft itself heh) so yea, all of you!! <3 (i guess?????) 4. How many people irl have read your stuff? kinda mentioned this in my previous 11/11/11 tag, but not much. if it’s school stuff then yea, but if it’s my own personal stuff, not really. maybe like a handful in the past, but right now in the present? no one has read my current wip as of yet. 5. Are there any books or movies that inspired your writing? hmmMMMm. in general i guess studio ghibli (in how they make the mundane little everyday stuff magical, i love that), percy jackson (humour lol), mmmm... i actually really don’t know. i’ve been writing for a long time, so i think everything probably just accumulated and it just culminates in this mess that i call my own brand of writing. my friends (who have read my work in the past) say that i actually have a style -- i’m not sure how true that is HAHA but that’s good to know, but i really have no idea what in particular inspired it. 6. How many WIPs do you have? One (or is it two??? but they are of the same... universe-thing.) OKAY like i’ve finished my first draft of my main novel called like all things out of season, and now i’m working (well, barely) on the companion novel so yea. floating in my head are about three vague forms of ideas though. one of which i have tried numerous times to write but never finished, another is something that i’m like ooooo i’ll write it right after i finish my current one (guess that ain’t happening), and the last is the most vague, most formless one that i just kinda have a feel on but not rly. 7. What are some ideas you had to throw away because you just didn’t have the time to work on them? i’m sure i’ve lost a lot over the years, especially because my memory sucks. also, since my memory sucks... do you expect me to remember these lost ideas??? 8. Have you ever written any poetry? Wanna show some of your stuff? the first time i ever touched poetry was two years ago for a creative writing class. they all kinda suck... do i want to show my stuff??? hmmmmm.... let me take a peek at what i’ve written then well it is pretty cringe but if you wanna read it (scroll through if you don’t want a cringe fest)

(1. don’t ask me about the formatting, idk why i did it this way 2. i think the assignment was... okay who am i kidding, idk what the assignment was about. but i think i just thought it’d be interesting to do a poem using like chinese mythology or something like that. speaking of which, the AU that i wanna write of my novel is kinda also about chinese mythology hmmm... did i say too much) 9. What’s your favorite line/scene you’ve ever written (several are possible of course)? i don’t have a favourite line, but for a scene... i’ve mentioned this somewhere else before (in response to an ask i think), but there was this really important scene that i knew, even before starting my novel, that i had to write and it was simply about this man telling them a story. and i had no idea what i’d write, how it’ was going to play out and everything, but then it came out so beautifully and evocative even though while writing i had no idea what i was doing and i actually felt what i was meant to feel in that story and i just lkjkdlfkjsdlfkd i have a lot of feelings to that and i can’t show it to yall cuz it’s like, the first main turning point of the story. right after that scene was this kinda sleepover-ish scene with Shou and Jun and i loved writing that too because shou was adorable and excited and jun was understandably not impressed and yknow, it was kinda important too in the whole state of things. OF COURSE before that i enjoyed writing the scene where almost all of them (except the female yu) converged together in the noisies’ place and just had a whole lot of mess and fun yeah that entire portion was great because they all happened kinda altogether at once. 10. What’s your favorite quote i don’t think i have one 11. What’s your favorite quote by someone you know? well it’s not my favourite, but it’s the most iconic one that i can remember right now. we were predrinking before going to a club and one of my friends bought vodka, which yknow tastes like nail varnish and is just terrible (i mean... even if you like vodka... you gotta admit, it feels like it can melt your throat off) while others bought like ~~ wine~~ and stuff and she was like “well we just wanna get drunk right so might as well jump straight into it” and that line stuck with me ever since. girl’s got her priorities straight. (if this makes me seem like i like drinking, i really don’t. and i hate wine HAHA) 12. What’s your favorite book? you are a devil. also. no, ain’t answering that. thank you, next. 13. Which book do you regret reading? i had a bunch of them when i was younger, but... i don’t really remember right now. really 14. Is there something you regret writing? when i was younger i once wrote something in the pov of a cat. do i regret it? no. it was really stupid though. 15. If your OC’s were actual people in your life, what would your relationship be like? oh ho ho. zhen would be the laziest friend ever and i’d probably be really annoyed at her because it’ll be impossible to go out and hang out with her, but yknow what? i’m basically the same.

shou would be annoying in a different way, he’ll be so overly-excited and energetic that i’ll just be like... stop. and he’s the sort who’ll go around talking to random strangers on the street and as a massive unsociable introvert, i’ll be drowning there in my shyness and inability to talk as he goes out yammering and yammering about who knos what (true story, i have a friend as sociable as him. even when we’re talking to mutual acquaintances, i’m just there. a statue, meant to decorate the setting in which she’s in) i can’t communicate with kids, so i’ll probably be really really awkward with lu. like really. maybe i’ll talk to him a little bit, but i can foresee it to be a very uncomfortable interaction, at least on my part. lol yu(f). i don’t think i can talk to her either. she’s too stressed out and working too hard and i don’t like to bother people like that, especially if we aren’t friends yet. ren would be really easy to talk to, he’s just so laidback and chill and nice, like he’s probably the kind of classmate you’ll just end up casually talking to when you meet on the way to class or on the way out from class. i don’t know if we’ll actually become friends, but we’ll end up being at least friendly acquaintances. i think i’d probably avoid teng in real life. he’s way too loud and dramatic and remember, i’m an introverted girl who doesn’t like to have attention on herself... and with him, yknow you’re gonna get all the attention. likewise with jun, you’re gonna get so much attention with him. but i think i could be friends with him tbh. he acts aloof and is pretty snarky and prickly but once i get past that (if i ever do, which to be frank i might not), i think we could be friends. i probably won’t be friends with yu (m) because he’s that strong silent type and unless i’m made to sit with him in class, i probably won’t ever start up a conversation with him. i most likely wouldn’t be friends with jia because she’s the really attractive, popular type yknow? she’s a nice person and i’d probably be friends with her IF we ever spoke to one another, but considering chances of that are low, i don’t think we’d end up friends. i’m reusing the above questions ^ and tagging a few more people @insearchof-solace (sorry tagging you back just because i want to know your answer for the last one HAHA) @usuallydecentwriter @sunnydaysarealwaysgrey @farrradays

#personal tag #personal #writeblr #my wips #my OCs #not sure if i should tag this to my OC tags but #hmm #probably not

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