#got lots of lil fic fragments

[nights-at-crystarium]

Okay, the recent surge of new followers thanks to the twitter exodus, and now your boy Vivien Fucksalot Rell on the tumblr radar, has me wanting to make some kinda welcome post.

The face of a man who made it to the tumblr radar for the first time C:

Who’s this guy you just saw? Yeah, first and foremost, it’s a cis male, he’s just full of gay and Gender (tm) \o/

Vivi is my WoL who I ship with G’raha Tia and I like to make it everyone’s problem. He’s the main character of the fancomic Fragments that I started this summer. I love ShB so much that I’ve decided to dedicate the next few years of my life to drawing and writing about it. And I believe I’ve got what it takes to tell a story that, in equal amounts, will entertain and break you 🖤

Vivi was tailor-made to interact with G’raha. I’m an experienced oc maker and, how to put it, character chemist? Give me two characters with some fun traits, like the base ingredients for a cocktail, I’ll toss them in a blender, shake it real good, and make the magical chemistry happen. My wolgraha ship is almost 1 year old at this point, I’m still spending every day thinking about them and writing down A LOT of things, random art ideas, fics, and, of course, the comic script, so.. Yeah it’s a good cocktail.

I’m keeping most of the Vivi things close to my heart since you’re yet to learn about him in Fragments. That’s the whole point. But the non-spoilery material is already fun enough imo. You take a look at him and you see: edge, intensity, duality, gremlin, idiot.

He was made in December 2021, got decently developed as a character by April 2022, kept getting more polished since then. I wanna make another post talking about him in a month or so, on his first birthday. For now please perceive him being the fun lil guy he is C:

What about the person behind it all though? My artist username is NextLVL, my own name is Aho or Vel, nb, he/they, a 32 years old self-taught artist who has a bit too much to deal with irl, and I’m holding on to my wolgraha obsession as the only means to stay sane. These guys are my everything. Seriously. Fragments is my first big project that so far has been incredibly validating for me as an artist, and that has given me hope to work on it fulltime thanks to my Patreon. Yes, plugging it because I’ve gotta eat. I’m earning for my living with my art, recent events in the social media sphere have thrown my livelihood into an even greater risk territory. I literally don’t know if I still can earn for my living tomorrow. So, I’ve been pushing my Patreon which looks like the safest and most stable option atm.

Here’s a “nutshell” for how I feel as an artist. Look, I didn’t say it, others did.

I’m working hard to bring something beautiful to the world that’s just an unceasing dumpster fire nowadays. I’m under a METRIC TON of mental pressure, yet I still manage to isolate from it and keep arting, for you and for myself. So yeah.. Thanks for looking, hope you like what I create. If you like it so much that you wanna support me, it’d mean literally everything to me. Thank you 🖤

#ffxiv #vivien rell #g'raha tia #crystal exarch #wol x g'raha tia #wolgraha #own: next lvl

[autisticlancemcclain]

13

And not in the game but how can you bring yourself to write so much? I keep trying to write but I keep getting stuck.

13 from this ask game — Have you ever received hate on a fic?

no, thankfully!! nothing yet. but i’m always afraid i’m gonna get shit for autistic lance or tall keith or whatever since i see so much hate for them 😭😭 i hope i’m spared.

as for how i manage to find the time/motivation to write so much — there’s a short answer and a long one. short answer is i cater entirely to myself and i set small deadlines to trick my brain.

long answer: okay, so i’ve been in the voltron fandom since 2016 (altho i was 14 at the time lol). so i’ve had a lot of time to think and read and look at art and generally, i had a lot of half-formed fics, ideas, headcanons, and all sorts of things flicking through my brain.

one day, i saw this lil nas tweet that planted a fic so vividly in my brain that i just… wrote. just spat the words out on the document, wrote. and i liked it! i really did. so i posted it.

after that i realised i could just… write shit down. it didn’t have to be finished, it didn’t even have to have a start! the smidges of dialogue, the fragmented pieces of fics, the longer headcanons, whatever. i could just write things down. i kept them all in one big note, and they looked a little like this (photo ids at the end of the post):

you might recognize some of my really early fic fragments! that’s because i also realised, eventually, that i could also post these! it’s free content, yknow? no room for complaints. i could just post, and i could also write whatever the hell i wanted. i liked autistic lance? i wrote him. i liked soft keith? i wrote him. i like hunk & lance’s friendship? i wrote it, and i lot of it. i wrote what i wanted to read!

at this point (i think mid-march) i had several dozen of these fic fragments stacked up. so i asked if anyone would be interested in me posting them, and i got a pretty decent response, so i started just copy-pasting, every day. just the things u already had. they did pretty decently, too, averaged about 30 notes each.

i actually got pretty attached to the notes. i’ve always thrived on external validation, so when i started to get it regularly i became a smidge attached to it, so i started feeling a little stressed about posting, yknow? i started feeling like i had to get things out every day. and then i ran out of pre-written fics to post, and i panicked. i didn’t think i would be able to come up with fics on the fly, and i was way too stressed about posting every day to even think about not doing that.

but here’s the thing… i did. come up with things on the fly, i mean. it turned out that because i was literally writing all the time, whatever came to mind, that i started building up the skills! suddenly i was able to think of ideas easily, and it was easier and easier for me to come up with whole paragraphs and full dialogues, not just pieces.

and the daily posting ended up helping me, too. i stopped putting so many damn rules on myself. the only rule i had for myself was ‘post before midnight, if you can’. i wrote whatever the hell i wanted, however long or short i wanted, however silly i wanted. just whatever. and i reminded myself that i was writing this for fun. and i really started to find joy with what i was doing.

after that, it got easier. i love what i’m doing, i’ve made some awesome friends, and when i need to take a break i take one.

so my advice is: find joy in your art. remind yourself that you’re writing for yourself. take the pressure off. everything get easier :)

(also, hey, i’ve seen your stuff!! i really like your art and have laughed at several of your posts — that sam/samurai one in particular. you’re doing great!)

[Photo I.D.: nine screenshots of different works of mine from my apple notes app. they read as follows:

first screenshot: ‘fic idea lance n keith invite everyone to some weird dress up party at halloween. it’s their wedding’

second screenshot: ‘i want femme fatale BOM lance on a secret mission literally more than i want to breathe. “oh, i live with my grandparents. i don’t have parents.” “you don’t..have…parents?” “yeah.” lance said offhandedly. “my dad abandoned me and my mom blamed me for it, so i ran away when i was seven. luckily my abuela and grand-père found me and decided to take me in,” he explained, smiling softly. his eyes never left his work, seemingly unconcentrated with the conversation - he missed the looks of horror exchanged around him.’

third: screenshot of a tweet with the caption: “I know my boss sick of me”, and then a screenshot of a text conversation: (grey bubble) “Did you call a customer dumb tonight?” (blue bubble) “No” (blue bubble) “I said ‘are you dumb’?” (blue bubble) “I was asking him” (grey bubble) “Do you think that was appropriate?” (blue bubble) “Very much so”. And then text I wrote saying “shiro to keith when he does this to a planets leader”

fourth: ‘princess buttercup - lance, westley - keith, montoya - shiro, fezzir - hunk, kid - pidge, grandpa - matt, verusi - iverson, montoya’s father - adam, old wizard guy - allura, old wizard guy’s wife - coran, humperdinck - lotor, creepy henchman of humperdinck - sendak. notes: lance solves some of the problems bc buttercup is too much of a damsel, shiro is fighting to avenge adam, allura and coran are not married obviously, lance shoots the ROOS’

fifth: ‘they all giggled, and lance snapped. “Los pendejos monolingües no tienen el privilegio de que yo traduzca todos mis pensamientos para su conveniencia. ustedes pueden jugar el papel de idiotas, por una vez. vete a la mierda.” he stormed off. klance fic where they’ve passed rivals, they’re friends, and they’re in love, but keith doesn’t know, but lance does, so lance waits patiently for keith to realize, and then he smiles softly when keith figures it out, and keith’s like “h-how, what?” and lance laughs softly and is like “you’ve been in love with me as long as i’ve loved you, baby. it just took you a little while to find out” and they live sappily ever after’

sixth: ‘we find out lance is a soccer star cus he drop kicks a bomb safely away’

seventh: ‘him?” Keith flushed, but nodded his head. Shiro smiled. “Then what does it matter if you’re gay? You like Lance. Liking him doesn’t make you any less gay. Don’t force yourself to ignore your feelings because you’ve been convinced your identity belongs to a few letters. People are complicated, Keith. We don’t have to fit into neatly labelled boxes.” au where everything is the same except lance is short as shit and also like. absolutely stacked fic where lances dad is killed and he was half raised by his oldest brother (22 yrs his senior) and he lowkey gives shiro a pep talk after shiro and keith fight because he gets the whole half brother half dad thing’

eighth: ‘i want to see a fic exploring the fact that it’s canon that shiro was a lot like lance when he was younger. i want to see lance and shiro interacting after shiro comes back to life and they’re basically The Same Person and it freaks everyone out to see them side by side. just like a problem arises and they say the same thing at the same time and side eye each other i think it could be so funny while also being so so sad. : Hunk shook his head. “It’s insane. Honestly, the main difference between them is their taste in men,” he said. Shiro raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Hunk scoffed. “You seem to go for the respectable choice of tall, sweet-sassy nerd. Lance, on the other hand -“ he gives Lance a pointed look, Lance bites back a sheepish grin. This is clearly a’

ninth: ‘explained, mischievous. “It was fun whether or not they realized they were being clowned, but watching them slowly come to find that they were schooled was certainly entertaining.” i just want to team to realise that lance clowns them constantly by playing dumb. paladins are doing the mind meld for ‘something u can’t believe you got away with’. lance projects the memory of meeting his stepmom for the first time: Lance looked at her critically. “Did your mother have, like, a ridiculously long labour, or something?” He asked her. She looked at him strangely. “Uh… what?” “I’m just trying to imagine how much pain your mother must have been in to look at her newborn baby daughter in the eyes, holding her carefully, and go ‘Ah, yes.’

All photos include a black background with white text. End I.D.]

#ask game #this is. so fucking long omg i’m sorry #longpost #writing #writing advice

[novantinuum]

I ain't even in the LoZ fandom BUT I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THIS FIC

aaAAA aa aAAA okay ;w;;;!!

so my (light BotW AU) fic is- at its core- a tale of once-seperated siblings restoring their fragmented bond. After I played the game, I was struck by how lonely it'd be, being an amnesiac wandering around Hyrule without a traveling companion... so I gave him a little sister! AKA, this is a fic where Link wakes up in the Shrine of Resurrection with another person.

In homage to the Wind Waker character, (and since I was too attached to the name by the time I wrote the outline to change it), the sister's name is Aryll.

Here's a wip I've been sitting on of the siblings towards the very beginning of the story, ft. placeholder background:

Now of course, in the grand scheme of things, the "saving Hyrule" part of the plot doesn't diverge from Breath of the Wild canon in this story, but that's because the focus is squarely upon developing these characters' relationship to each other and their growth in understanding themself and their place within this new, wild world. So far, my intent while writing has been to dig deep into the intimate little intricacies of Link and Aryll's perspectives from day to day, bouncing back and forth between them as they begin their lil' world spanning journey.

Now, a little background about where their familial relationship stands at the beginning of this fic- because this is where the MEAT of the story lies, and also where this story becomes my sounding board to vent about ten thousand personal silly little sibling angst musings- Aryll remembers her whole childhood (minus a Few Recent Things, but that's an Eventual Plot Point, Babey), but Link has a form of amnesia that has obscured almost all personal details of his life from memory. Literally all he's running on is survival instincts and the faint idea (which is quickly confirmed) that the girl he woke up alongside must be his sister. Thus... on his end, he has to rebuild that relationship entirely, from scratch.

On Aryll's side, however... she has a lot of lingering resentment towards Link. Because a few years prior, her father died while on duty, and not too long after that, Link walked away from her family and ceased contact with them altogether. She never got a reason why. (Link's reasons for this are... complicated, and deeply entrenched in trauma and the pressures of his role as champion. I have a short prequel fic plotted out about this that I might get to eventually.) So... while there's a part of Aryll that is overjoyed to finally see her brother again, there's also that quiet part that's still harboring a deep anger towards him. That part that's almost expecting abandonment again.

They have a lot to work through, suffice it to say.

There's plenty of other Emotional Issues these two have, but that's for me to write, and readers to explore when I finally post this binch uisdhksngujh XD

#the ballad of aryll #jen rambles #link #aryll

[losingmymindtonight]

I started writing this so long ago. It’s dedicated to for @agib-2002​, for the original idea, and @the-great-escapism​, for sparking it up again and giving me the inspiration to finish it.

(An extended scene between when Tony, Peter, and Strange originally meet the Guardians on the Q-Ship and when they all start planning on Titan.)

He doesn’t even know how it happened.

One minute, he’d been crashing an spaceship onto an alien planet. The next, his spider sense was flashing and he was being flung (for the second time in a handful of minutes) across the ship, Iron Spider suit clanging and screeching as it grated against the metal floors.

There was an alien with antennas, which was weird, and then some guy with a mask kicked him down. He knew, distantly, that he should never have let himself get separated from Mister Stark in the first place. He didn’t have a lot of practice fighting multiple opponents at once, and he wasn’t sure Berlin really counted.

There was just so much happening. Pieces of the damaged ship were still breaking off. He could hear pipes bursting, circuits sparking. The air was a chaos of shouts and repulsers and the hiss and sizzle of Doctor Strange’s magic. He’d lost contact with Karen way back on Earth, when he’d torn off his original mask, but the complex equations and data from the heads-up display still raced in the corners of his vision. All he could see was flashes: flashes of movement, of guns, of falling debris. There was blood in his mouth, blood in his nose. Every lungful of air was sweet with sweat and smoke and kicked up dust. His suit was too tight, too tight, too tight. The metal plates pressed against his skin and he didn’t think they’d ever come off.

For a minute, he really didn’t want to be a superhero anymore.

He scrambled across the ceiling above Mask Guy. He had to get behind him, right? He could’ve sworn Mister Stark had told him to get behind the enemy during training once. Or was that just something he’d learned from the video games he played with Ned on Sunday afternoons? Either way, it was the only plan he had. 

It turned out to be a bad plan. A very, very bad plan.

He wasn’t thinking straight, and not taking that into account was his major mistake. His vision was so bright, so skewed, that he didn’t even notice Mask Guy turn to stare straight at him when he jumped, the extra legs Mister Stark had put in his suit curling around him protectively.

Not that it mattered, of course. The ropes of electricity that snapped around his torso made the whole suit short circuit anyway.

Everything got even scarier after that. A mix of sensory overload and, you know, being electrocuted, made his brain fuzz out. Even after the shock stopped (but the ropes stayed, to his dismay, clamped tightly around his ribcage), it still took him a minute to re-acclimate himself to having a body.

By the time that happened, there was an arm around his neck and a gun against his head.

Oh. Oh shit.

Mask Guy hauled him to where Mister Stark and Doctor Strange were still fighting with the other aliens. The gun squealed loudly in his ear as he armed it.

“Everybody stay where you are! Chill the eff out!”

Peter only felt a little bit better when Mask Guy turned to gun to point at Mister Stark. “I’m gonna ask you this it one time. Where is Gamora?”

He could see his mentor swallow hard, eyes dancing between Peter and Mask Guy (who had disengaged said mask and, from what Peter could see from the corner of his eye, looked surprisingly human) as he held his repulser towards them.

Mister Stark’s mask had also been retracted, and it struck Peter rather suddenly that he’d never actually been on the receiving end of his fury before. Sure, his mentor had been mad after the Ferry Incident, but that was nothing compared to the rage burning behind his eyes now.

He looked livid. And... scared. Really, really scared.

For some reason, his adrenaline-fueled mind couldn’t reason why.

“Yeah. I’ll do you one better. Who is Gamora?”

It wasn’t until the Blue Alien spoke that Peter realized Mister Stark had a hostage of his own. “I’ll do you one better. Why is Gamora?”

If Peter wasn’t so sure he was only a few seconds away from literally dying, he might have laughed.

Mask Guy’s voice was murderous. The gun was back against his temple. He couldn’t feel the metal through his mask, but he imagined it was cold. “Tell me where the girl is or I swear to you I’m gonna french fry this little freak.”

Something washed over Mister Stark’s face at the threat. Something wild and vulnerable. His voice was a mix of harsh determination and pure terror. “Let’s do it! You shoot my guy and I blast him! Let’s go!”

A massive gun folded out from Mister Stark’s gauntlet at the threat. Despite the circumstances, Peter felt a brief flash of awe at his mentor’s suit. It was cool.

“Do it, Quill. I can take it.”

Another wave of fear washed through his veins. Maybe the Blue Alien could take it. Peter was 90% sure that a direct blast from Mask Guy’s gun at close range would kill him, even with the safety measures he knew Mister Stark had packed into the suit. 

Then, Antenna Alien spoke. “No! He can’t take it!”

Doctor Strange shook his head dryly. “She’s right. You can’t.”

“Oh, yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and I’ll beat it out of Thanos myself. Starting with you.” 

Mask Guy’s arm tightened around his throat. The gun jammed into his temple hard enough to ache. Tears stung at his eyes. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. Please. He didn’t want to-

“Wait, what, Thanos? Alright, let me ask you this one time. What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say Jesus?”

Some of the fear left Mister Stark’s body. In fact, he almost looked annoyed, like when Peter told a really bad pun in the middle of a fight. “You’re from Earth.”

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dipshit. What are you hassling us for?”

He’s from Earth. He’s from Earth. He should know Mister Stark. Iron Man. He should know. 

He finally got up the courage to speak, and he hated how small and childish his voice sounded. He was sure Mister Stark could hear that he’d been choking back tears. “So you’re not... with... Thanos?”

“With Thanos? No! I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl.” The gun fell away from his head. “Wait, who are you?”

The mask retracted. The suit must have sensed the danger had passed. 

He tried to force bravery into his voice. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

The arm around his neck disappeared. He pushed out a breath of relief and hauled in his first full lungful of air in god knows how long. The restraints around his torso were still painfully right, but at least he didn’t have a gun shoved against his head anymore. At least Mister Stark only looked a little bit frightened.

Antenna Alien looked surprised. “You’re the ones Thor told us about.”

“You know Thor?”

“Yeah. Tall guy, not that good-looking,” Peter couldn’t help but flinch back at that, face scrunching in indignation, “needed saving.”

“Where is he now?”

“Nidavellir.”

Mister Stark’s mouth twitched in frustration. “I’m sorry, he’s where?”

“Nidavellir. Place that makes Titan-killing weapons, apparently. He said he needed a hammer.”

“He has a hammer.”

“He told us that his first one got destroyed.”

“How the hell did-” Mister Stark shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We’re good, right? Awesome. Peter, c’mere.”

Mask Guy reached forward and held Peter’s bicep in an unforgiving grip. “Whoa, slow down. You give me my guy, and I give you yours.”

“Fine.” Mister Stark gestured for Blue Alien to get to his feet and then pointed at Peter’s chest. “But get those things off of him.”

The electricity binding his arms to his side disappeared and he relaxed, wincing the muscles in his shoulders pulled. Mask Guy shoved him forward as Mister Stark did the same with Blue Alien. The moment he was in reach, his mentor lunged forward and hauled him a few stumbled steps backward. 

Mister Stark kept a firm grip on his arm as he maneuvered himself so that he was between Peter and any danger. He didn’t look at him, although Peter could tell he was dying to.

“You good, kid?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Alright. Hang in there.” He watched Mask Guy calculatingly. “You gonna introduce yourselves?”

“Quill, but most people call me Star-Lord.” He pointed at Blue Alien, then Antenna Lady. “That’s Drax and Mantis. Your turn.”

“I’m Tony,” he nodded in Strange’s direction, “Steven Strange,” he tugged Peter so he was just slightly visible to the other gang, “and this is Peter.”

Quill’s face brightened. “Hey! My name’s Peter, too!”

He forced a shaky smile on his face. He felt light-headed. “It’s a good name.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Alright, alright.” His mentor squeezed his arm lightly. “This is nice and all, but I’m gonna need some confirmation that we’re working together here. So,” he took a few steps forward, dragging Peter behind him, and held out his hand, “truce?”

Quill met him in the middle and gave a sharp nod. “Truce.”

“Perfect.” Mister Stark swung to face Peter head on, gripping his shoulders to hold him steady. “Hey. Hi. You hurt?”

“I-I don’t think so.” He swayed a little. The ground didn’t feel very stable, all of a sudden. “But I, uh, I think I need to sit down.”

“Okay, okay. Easy.” His mentor lowered him to the floor slowly, kneeling in front of him and holding him in a sitting position with concern in his eyes. “You’re alright.”

Quill’s face popped up over Mister Stark’s shoulder. “Is he okay?”

Mister Stark shrugged. “Strange?”

The sorcerer wandered over and looked Peter up and down. “Did his suit report any major injuries?”

“No. Just bruises.”

“It’s just adrenaline, then.” Strange gave Mister Stark a significant look. “He’s only a child, after all.”

The world spun around him lazily, like he was on a really bad tilt-a-whirl. “‘M not a child.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mister Stark cradled the back of his head as he laid him down, leaving his hand buried in his hair like a makeshift pillow. “Not a child, we know. Now take a breather.”

Quill seemed to survey Peter, and winced at whatever it was he saw. “Uh, he doesn’t look too good, does he?”

Uh oh. Mister Stark looked pissed. His head snapped towards Quill and his voice dripped with venom. “Yeah, he doesn’t. Probably has something to do with the fact you scared the shit out of him, asshole.”

Quill raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, man. Didn’t know we were on the same side.”

“Doesn’t give you a right to-”

“Mister Stark?” He winced at the way his voice wobbled. God, he really didn’t wanna cry. He was an Avenger now, and Avengers didn’t cry, even if they were stranded in a wrecked spaceship on the homeworld of a psychotic alien. “‘S okay. Jus’ gimme a second, and I’ll be fine.”

He liked the way Mister Stark’s face melted when he looked back at him. It made his chest feel warm and gooey, despite the adrenaline crash. 

“I know you’ll be fine, kiddo, but you’re gonna stay right there until you’re 100% again, y’hear me? No jumping the gun on this one. There’re only so many heart attacks I can handle in one go.”

He gave a half-hearted nod, then dropped his head back against the cool metal floor with an exhausted sigh.

God, he hadn’t even gotten to the big fight yet, and he already felt like he could sleep for a million years.

Mister Stark’s hand, his real hand, not the gauntlet, was suddenly pressed flat against his forehead. “You doing okay, buddy?”

“Mhm. Just... taking a sec.”

His mentor’s voice was apologetic. “Alright. Just don’t fall asleep, okay? I’m sorry, kid, but we don’t have time for naps.”

He flexed his fingers and blinked his eyes back open, suppressing a groan at the ache in his ribs. His gaze collided with Mister Stark’s, and there was a brief moment when neither spoke.

Up until that point, he hadn’t really realized that fear in Mister Stark’s eyes hadn’t been for himself, or for Earth, or even for the universe as a whole.

Now, though, the subject of his mentor’s terror hit him like a ton of bricks.

The fear was for him.

A fresh wave of tears glazed his vision, and he blinked them away.

“This’s,” he swallowed, offering his mentor a lopsided grin, “this’s been a really long day, Mister Stark.”

He won a wry smile in return. “Yeah, kid, it has.”

“It’s only gonna get longer, huh?”

“Probably.” Mister Stark ran his hand through his hair, either not noticing or not caring about how stiff it was with drying sweat. “But it’ll be over eventually. You just gotta stay alive until then, alright? Promise me. Promise me that your number one priority’ll be staying alive.”

He nodded, desperately wanting to relieve some of the terror in his mentor’s eyes.

“I promise.”

He really hoped that it was a promise he wouldn’t have to break.

#wassup #been going through my drafts #got lots of lil fic fragments #poor abandoned babies #irondad #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes #infinity war #tw: guns #tw: hostage

[kyber-crystal]

➳ good enough || s.r.

summary: after a long week you’re left completely exhausted. steve comforts you and helps you unwind. 

words: ~1.6k 

warnings: slight mentions of violence, angst, angst-to-fluff, a lil friends-to-lovers (i’m SORRY literally all of my oneshots are some variation of this but i just can’t resist), minor age gap? (if you call 5 years a lot). also civil war happened but they resolved it so 2017 au teeheeeeee

a/n: this sucked omg. why is my writing going downhill. also this is a red-room-turned-agent-reader who helped steve adjust when he came out of the ice bc i love cliche love backstories hehe...i tried to be very descriptive here but that failed oops. this is prolly one of my worst fics ever (it’s unedited) but my other one got deleted so i’m uploading this in its place!

Steve knew something was wrong the minute you came back from your mission. You always acted a bit off the first few days following your return, but for some reason, today seemed different. For the past week you'd been blatantly avoiding his gaze, refusing to meet his eye unless forced to. 

You don’t even return Sam and Bucky’s sarcastic one-liners - and you always make sure to send a cheesy joke right back at them. It’s not typical for you to be so quiet and reserved like this; frankly, it scared him. 

He knows that as a former Red Room assassin, you never had it easy. As the youngest of the twenty-eight dancer-disguised warriors, you were merely eight years old when you were admitted (Natasha was thirteen). At eight, there was much you didn’t know. You were naive, easily shaped to conform to the strict rules they’d set out for you. 

But despite all the hell you’d gone through in the past, you managed to find it in your heart to forgive and create a compassionate nature towards others. Especially him. He always wondered what he deserved to get someone like you-- he felt more than lucky to have you in his life.

It was 4 a.m, and his insomnia was at its worst. It had peaked ever since he’d come out of the ice - he was 27, had so much of his life before him before it was abruptly put to a stop. But then he met you, with your warm eyes and kind smile that was such a sharp contrast to the girl you used to be. 

The sound of muffled shouts coming from across the compound makes him look up - he sets down his mug of coffee and immediately heads down the hall to see what’s going on. 

Steve carefully pushed open the glass doors to the training facility, seeing you standing in front of a punching bag and attacking the hell out of it with an almost murderous look in your eyes - one he’d never seen before. The tape around your knuckles were splattered with your crimson blood. Despite the dim lighting, he could see the outlines of fresh bruises all over your arms and shoulders. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. He felt his heart break.

Every heavy blow of your fists was accompanied by a ground-shaking boom that echoed across the gym, unleashing the monster trapped inside. You pick up the pace and increase your speed, channelling all your pent-up anger and frustration and guilt into what you were doing. 

It hurts. You would give anything to get rid of the pain. It hurts like hell, but you would trade living a regret-ridden life for a guilt-free one in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Besides, you’ve experienced far worse before-- six-inch knife wounds, bullets to the abdomen and upper arms, broken ribs and noses. This should be a walk in the park.

The concerned super-soldier stood several feet away and observed you, silently watching you murdering the poor punching bag that’s barely withholding all the fury you’ve poured into pummeling it; it was about to burst at the seams.

“Y/N.” You didn’t hear him and kept going, so he repeated himself again. “Y/N.”

“What?” you snapped, keeping your gaze trained in front of you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. What’s keeping you up at this hour?”

“Nothing,” you replied plainly, but he caught the brief flash of a grief-stricken look cross over your expression and your eyes glaze over, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You clearly aren’t. Y/N, talk to me. Please.”

“I told you, I’m,” you increased the force of your fists with each word you spoke, as you felt your eyes stinging, “just, fine!”

“Y/N...” he whispered, so softly, as if he was afraid he’d break you with a single sentence. 

That was the last straw. The tears spilled over. Your vision began to blur as you didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The broad-shouldered super-soldier, your fists, and the punching bag and everything insight are turned into blurry, shapeless blobs. You try blinking them away but it was no use; but you keep going. 

“Please tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong...please don’t shut me out. I only want to help.”

“Leave me alone,” you repeated with a growl, arms now aching with the pain of a thousand tiny needles. But he doesn’t, and he stays firmly rooted in his place. You hastily wiped at your nose with your hands. “For gods’ sake, Rogers, leave,” smack “me,” smack “alone.”

Your last punch was so hard the walls shook and caused Steve to take a step back in alarm. But after that, all the fight is gone from you. Your knees buckle from underneath you and your shoulders slump in defeat and you crumble to the floor. A sound so raw and hoarse escapes your lips and it sounds nothing near human. 

The metallic scent of blood mixed with your salty tears and sweat overwhelms your senses and makes your head spin. Suddenly the act of taking in a single breath seems impossible and your chest tightens, preventing you from being able to breathe properly. 

The ever-so-fragile wall that had been struggling to hold your tears at bay finally broke. 

Heaving, wrenching sobs clawed their way up your throat and tore through your already weary heart - escaping in broken, agonized cries and heart-wrenching howls that make Steve feel like his heart is deliberately shattering into a million, tiny fragments of glass. He doesn’t know what to do because for the first time in his life, the woman he’s always seen with her head held high and an unmatched confidence that could almost put the President to shame was vulnerable, letting it all out at once. 

Steve doesn’t ask any questions nor does he push to to speak up, but silently comes over to you and wraps you into a tight hug, cradling you against his chest. Your arms find their way around his torso, pressing your forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as his free hand makes a gentle trek up and down your back. 

As if you were a delicate flower, he carefully brought your head closer and pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for a second longer than normal to reassure you. To reassure you that everything would in fact, be okay. Because he was there.

“Don’t leave me...please don’t leave me,” you choked out as he tightened his hold on you. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he cooed, lips brushing against your forehead, “it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay, we’re okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Then, the suffocating pressure is eased off your chest, little by little. You began sinking into the comfort of his warm arms and soothing words. And with his reminder that you didn’t have to go through hell and back alone, because he’d be there, you began to heal. 

...

ONE YEAR LATER

“...Joining the Avengers has been one hell of a ride. I went through hell and back, had my fair share of ups and downs and fought in countless wars. But along the way I’ve been blessed with the privilege of getting a built-in second family and making some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I met my soulmate.” Steve gazed down at you warmly as you spoke, “I honestly had no idea things would ever work out like this but now, I can’t imagine a life without knowing who all these amazing people are.

“It’s been 15 months since the day he saved me.” Everyone immediately fell silent. "I had hit a very, very low point in my life and I was just about ready to give up. It was like I was screaming into a void and nobody was there to catch me when I fell. I felt so helpless and lost. Stuck. If Steve hadn’t come along at the time he did...I don’t know what would’ve have happened instead. So, Steve...I want to thank you...for everything. I can’t even begin to list all the things you’ve sacrificed or done for my sake and I owe you. From this point forward I promise to always stick by your side no matter how rough things get. I promise to love you at your best and your worst; whenever you need me I’ll always be here. No amount of anything I do will ever match what you’ve done, but I can promise you this: I’ll love you until the day I die, ‘til death do us part.

“’Till death do us part,” Steve repeated, smiling through the tears in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

You broke into a gorgeous grin that had him weak at the knees.  “I love you too.”

“The rings, please,” Fury nodded over in Peter’s direction, and the teenager handed them over to the two of you. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Captain Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you said softly, as you put on Steve’s ring.

He turned to the super-soldier. “And Captain Steven Grant Rogers, do you take Agent Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve took your hand in his and slid the diamond ring over your finger, “I do.”

“Very well, then,” Fury smiled widely, a rare sight. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve rushed forward and pulled you close, dipping you down low before bringing you back up and kissing you passionately. 

His warm lips serving as a reminder of all that you still had left to live for, that you had so much of your life ahead of you. A life with him.

...

general tags(this is from my old taglist spreadsheet, including mutuals who might be interested): @rynhaswritersblock @purpleskiesstorm @pies-writes-and-more @wxstedhexrt @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @tombob2005 @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild​ @sunstalgia​

steve rogers/chris evans tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @stainedsouvenir @marvelfanatic16

permanent tags<3: @poesflygirl @sandwitch-god

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america one shot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #mcu #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine

[beelsnack]

Hi, Can I request- if allowed, a fic were the brothers react to an MC who is forced into joining a war she was partially to blame for over a small reason, You can decide what she was blamed for i want the author to let her imagination flow, love your writing!

Ooh, boy, this was quite the undertaking! I had a lot of fun with this, though, so I hope you like it, Nonnie!

This ended up being less of a reaction and more of a fic of it actually happening, but I hope it’s to your liking!

CW: Abuse, mild depiction of violence/death 

-----

It had been self defense.

Honestly, she hadn’t even been paying attention to what she had been doodling on her arm. The classes at community college just seemed so dull compared to learning curses and mixing potions at RAD, it was hard for her to keep her focus. Sometimes the lecture would end and she would have an entire notebook page full of alchemical symbols and ingredients for witch bottles without even realizing it.

It wasn’t until she returned home that she realized she had drawn a summoning circle on the back of her hand.

Her mother had berated her so harshly that she swore the crucifix on the wall started rattling. 

“What kind of exchange program was this? Did you join a cult? I’ve heard what those Satanic groups do! What, did you try to summon the Devil?”

“Which one?” she shot back angrily, fists clenched at her sides. “There’s seven! Eight, if you count the Prince!”

She should have kept her mouth shut. Should have just bowed her head, nodded obediently, went to confession to say her Hail Marys and let it be. But her year in the Devildom had taught her one very important lesson.

How not to put up with anyone’s shit.

They had screamed back and forth at each other. Her mother raged on and on about how she had raised her daughter to be better than that, that she couldn’t believe her sweet little girl had grown up to be a Devil worshipper. She shouted back that her mother had done such a poor job or “raising” her that she literally had to go to Hell for her life to get better.

“I don’t know if I should call the police or an exorcist!” her mother frothed, storming out of the living room.

As it turned out, she picked the exorcist.

The priest was actually rather pleasant. It was clear he had dealt with his fair share of religious fervor and was merely doing this to placate her mother. He told her to lie down in the middle of the living room floor as he chanted something in Latin. It was almost soothing.

Until the Holy Water.

The droplets sizzled as though they had landed in a pan of oil. With a cry of shock, the priest scrambled backwards. There was a hot flash of pain in the hollow of her throat.

Right where Mammon’s pact mark was.

“What is that?” her mother screeched, pointing a shaking finger at the shimmering gold mark that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. “Father, what is that?”

“I’m afraid...” the priest cleared his throat. “I’m afraid your daughter has made a pact with a demon.”

The next few moments were pure chaos. Her mother snatched the bottle of Holy Water out of the priest’s hands and flung it at her. It shattered against her cheek, leaving jagged cuts against her skin and soaking her in Holy Water.

One by one her pact marks flared like they were being set on fire. Lucifer’s on her left shoulder blade. Leviathan’s on her right wrist. Satan’s just below her breast. Beelzebub’s over her stomach. Belphegor’s on her hip. Asmodeus’ on her inner thigh. Her body lit up like a fireworks display to celebrate all of the sins she had committed.

It would have been beautiful if it didn’t feel like she was burning from the inside out.

She might have screamed. Honestly, she didn’t remember. Later, the memories would come back in fragments. Seven bright flashes of light. Hisses and howls of rage. Bared fangs, spread wings, the sickening scrape of claws on bone.

Strong arms cradling her gently. The deep rumble of Beelzebub’s voice as he soothed her, promising her that she was safe. Mammon growling something she couldn’t understand, the casual accent he usually spoke with replaced by something ancient and primal.

 A splash of red against the crucifix hanging on the wall.

-----

When they awoke, she was convinced that everything had been a dream. But then, instead of the bland walls and mundane surroundings of her bedroom in the Human Realm, she was greeted by the sight of her room in the Devildom, exactly as she had left it. Even the dresser drawer had been left slightly ajar.

“Oh, ya finally awake?”

Her eyes snapped upward, finally noticing what she was sleeping on. Her head was pillowed in Mammon’s lap. Either he was really tired, or really worried about her, because he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed to be caught running his fingers through her hair.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Mammon...?” her throat felt like sandpaper. Mammon shushed her, reaching over to the nightstand and sntaching up a glass of water. She gulped it down like she was dying. Hell, maybe she was.

“Ya gave us a good scare there, ya know?”

“What...what happened?” she asked.

Mammon’s blue-gold eyes darkened. “That absolute bit - your mom. Dumped a whole thing of Holy Water on you. Lucifer says that you spending so much time in the Devildom and makin’ pacts with all of us...corrupted ya a lil’ bit.”

Mammon sighed. “Your angel blood was enough for it not to kill you, but it must have hurt something fierce. You activated our pacts without realizin’ it.”

She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in. “...What happened, Mammon?”

“We...I...” Mammon squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I thought I lost you. Again.”

“You...you killed them...?”

“Just the priest,” Mammon sighed again. “Lucifer reigned us in before we got to your mom. But Daddy Dearest up there didn’t take too kindly to us murdering one of his lackeys.”

The implication was there, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. “Which means...?”

“It means we’re at war.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

[c-c-cherry]

Any family headcanons for the gang members who's families we weren't told about??

Guess who was doing headcanons again at 4am??? ME!!! I’m sorry also with the much wanted help of @jjadegreen because she’s officially my headcanon pal and she always helps me a lot with this shit :)

I’m literally posting these at 5:45 am but they sounded good in my sleep-deprived head and they looked good on paper from my sleep-deprived vision so I’m just gonna post this now and worry about it tomorrow!

I use these headcanons regardless of whether its an Everyone Live’s situation or not so there are clashes between fics like the Storm and The Unknown (I usually just use most of these headcanons regardless of what I’m writing and what universe and whatever)

I know I say this whenever I post ANY fucking headcanons, but I’m sorry.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Abbacchio

-There’s not much to say about his parents. They were pretty average. All they wanted was for him to be successful; get a nice job, find someone to love. They weren’t too close with him, but they were there.

-He did, however, have an older sister by the name of Pantera Abbacchio

-And she was even more goth than he was.

-When lil Leone was just starting out in high school, she already was in her last year and by then she was already a fully-ascended goth goddess

-They weren’t that close (they had a 4 year difference) and she always thought he was too enthusiastic about everything. They never really connected

-BUT—

-He got really curious and thought she was really cool so he used to steal her clothes and makeup all the time and all her friends made fun of her for it, but she secretly thought it was adorable

-She was cold at first, but soon started sharing everything with him (she lent him all her fishnet clothes and purple dresses and crazy silver jewelry and even let him use her lipstick sometimes

-His parents thought it was a bit...unconventional at first but they wanted him to be happy so they supported it

-One day after school he got dragged into an alleyway (bb Abba was puny I don’t make the rules) and just got the absolute shit beaten out of him. She had poetry club after school so as she was walking to the parking lot she found him there bawling his eyes out because he got blood all over her favourite shirt

-She took him shopping that day (she put concealer on him in the mall parking lot to hide the bruises from their parents)

-They also got ice cream

-She didn’t approve of him becoming a cop (she don’t like cops one bit) but when he let his partner die and learned that he took bribes, she was so fucking angry. She never wanted to talk to him again

-His parents tried to stay connected, but the family seemed too fragmented and everyone was still angry at him

-Years later, she decided that maybe she should talk to him, to try and reconnect

-When Giorno picked up the phone instead and explained everything to her, she realized she was too late

-She was a sobbing, screaming mess and she felt like a terrible sister

-She felt like if she had called sooner, he wouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in the mafia

-Giorno invited her to the funeral, and they properly met there

-It was an open-casket, and in his will he requested that he wore the first dress that his sister bought him. (It had to be tailored a bit, but it fit)

-She planted purple lilies by his grave, and although she hasn’t talked to the gang since the funeral, the flowers are always watered.

Fugo

-His parents were assholes. Rich assholes.

-They gave him everything he wanted in exchange that he keep up their reputation, but even now, he still felt like he never did that right

-He had a little brother, Budino Fugo

-His brother was the last thing on his mind when he went to University, Panna would almost call himself an only child

-They weren’t close at all. They were always separated because of Fugo’s unpredictable anger and their house was so big that the only time they would see each other were during family greeting card photoshoots and for the painting of the giant portrait that sat in their foyer

-They got it re-painted once they kicked him out

-Budino was only three when Fugo was disowned, so by the time he’s older, his mysterious older brother is nothing but a distant memory, only someone he would pose with for photos and large gatherings

-Any photos of Panna are gone by the time he’s five, as are any traces of him existing. Anytime he would ask about the blond that disappeared out of their lives, he was always denied any answer

-He learned not to answer any questions

-Unbeknownst to him, he ended up looking exactly like his brother. If you were to place two photos of them side-by-side at the same age, you would barely be able to tell them apart

-He grew up without ever really knowing that his brother existed and he always thought of himself as an only child

-He grew up to be the perfect child. Charming, happy, calm, intelligent. He became the Pannacotta Fugo that his parents always wanted

-Everyone loved him, and although he didn’t go University that young, his charm and good reputation made up for it

-Budino would like to say that he lived a good life, but sometimes he wakes up and wonders who the blond look-alike is that always seems to pop up in his dreams. He wonders why he feels like something is missing, like there’s something that everyone isn’t telling him. He wonders who was holding him during photoshoots and who his parents used to yell at in the fragments of his memories

-But he shrugs it off. He has everything he could ever need, so why should he worry about that?

Mista

-Mista’s parents weren’t poor, but they weren’t exactly rich either. Living in a big family, they had to learn how to spread out their spending, and sometimes they didn’t exactly have enough to eat every night

-Both of his parents worked endlessly long hours and barely made it back by dinnertime, but sometimes they did, and every night when they didn’t, they still had food on the table

-Mista never hated his parents, but they were pretty dependent on him. They needed him to look after his sisters while they were working, and although he found it irritating, he never resented them for it

-The only time Mista can confidently say the number four without wincing is when he’s talking about his sisters

-Four of them, to be exact

-Mela was the youngest, around six or seven the last time Mista heard from her. She was pretty fragile most of the time and had to stay home from school a lot because of how weak her immune system was

-Mista missed a lot of school taking care of her, but she was always fun to be around and he managed to graduate with pretty good grades by the end of it

-He soon found out that she shared the same name as Narancia’s mother. He knew the two had more in common than they thought

-Stella was around nine the last time Mista saw her. She was the most professional and serious person he had ever met. She got incredible grades in school and her teachers often said that she was destined to be something like a doctor or a famous scientist

-Although she wasn’t exactly a jokester like her brother, he always managed to get her to crack a smile once in a while

-Gioia was thirteen, and she fit her name perfectly; she was the most joyous person Mista had ever met. Almost the exact opposite of Stella (she would always make fun of her for being such a prude)

-She loved cooking and would always help Mista out with taking care of Mela, but she loved animals even more than food

-They couldn’t afford a pet, but she always befriended the neighbourhood cats and Mista was even saving up to buy her a cat or snake (she loved snakes)

-Sera was fifteen, and somehow even quieter than Stella. She always seemed very reserved and closed off from the rest of the world, even Mista couldn’t get her to laugh

-She had a soft spot for Gioia, Mista noticed that the two of them would sneak out of the house at night and he wondered if she was a different person away from the rest of them

-Mista sees Sera and Giorno as almost one in the same, which is why he doesn’t exactly know how to react when he sees Gio in such a state in Stormverse

-After he went to jail, no one went to visit him. His parents were furious that he could murder a man, and he never saw his sisters again

-Stella was so angry and disappointed the last time he saw them all in that holding cell, she refused to even look at him. Gioia was bawling her eyes out and Sera gave him the hardest stare he had ever seen. Mela asked when he was coming home.

-He never did.

-When Bruno bailed him out of jail, he managed to give both of his parents a pretty large raise and promotion in their jobs

-They were always there for dinner after that, always there for them, and that’s all Mista ever really wanted for his family in the end.

Giorno

I’m sorry, bros. I have no headcanons for him. Only child, shitty family. All he really had was Gold Experience’s presence and a pack of cards.

Trish

-Donatella Una was a single mother, and her and Trish were very close because of it

-Her mother was beautiful and taught her everything she knows about the fashion world

-She had the most beautiful singing voice and always dreamed of being in the music industry -When Trish voiced interest in trying out for a few local parts, she was overjoyed and they instantly bonded over it. Trish claims later when her music career kicks off that her mother was her biggest inspiration

-Donatella was the absolute QUEEN of Girl’s Nights™—she would always go all out on snacks, makeovers, shitty romcoms...you name it and she probably spent way too much money on it

-They would do each other’s nails all the time and her mother taught her how to do her hair every morning

-She was in the middle of teaching Trish how to do winged eyeliner when she had to go to the hospital. She died before she could finish teaching her

-She never resented her father (well, before she met him, that is), even her mother knew that there was no way he could have known she was pregnant, but she always liked to think that he would have taken care of them if he did

-That opinion changed very quickly

-Always had that mineral water on hand—Ms. Una said hydrate or diedrate

-She couldn’t cook for the life of her so they got takeout A LOT and Trish has been to a fair share of fancy restaurants

-Her and her mom were going to go out together after school and get pedicures before the school got a call that she had been rushed to the hospital

Narancia

-He was an only child and his mother was always very kind to him

-She was the kind of mom who would cut your sandwich into a different shape every morning and made sure you got enough water and sunscreen and stuff

-Before she got her eye infection, the two of them would always be spending time together. His father was nice enough to the both of them and was never cruel while she was alive, but the moment she was admitted to the hospital, something inside him kind of unclicked and he never bounced back from it

-Although his father would come with him for hospital visits, he mostly stood to the side and spoke with the doctors while Nara would sit with his mama

-The hospital had all this stuff for sick patients like therapy animals and music and a really beautiful garden so Narancia would bring his mom outside all the time to sit under the apple trees

-And YES, he DID grow an apple tree in the backyard in Stormverse thanks to Giorno

Bruno

-It was just him and his dad after his mom left

-Bruno was a lot like Paolo in the way that the two of them were super stoic and rarely showed weakness around each other

-They were still very close

-They would go fishing together!!! Bruno was taught about boats and fishing and pretty much everything about the trade

-When he was little, he wanted to be just like his father :)

-When Paolo would go out for the day, he would hang around the dock in the summertime waiting for him to come back

-All the fishermen’s kids would hang around there too whenever there wasn’t school, so Bruno used to play with them all the time

-He got his first point as “cool mom friend” when he saved a tourist’s kid from drowning when they fell off the dock when he was around nine or ten

-The tourists gave Paolo an extra big tip that day :)

-He absolutely got his savior complex when his parents divorced and he chose to stay with his dad

-Pretty much nothing scared baby Bruno but thunderstorms hit different

-His father was always really careful about going out on really cloudy days, but once in a while a storm would hit and he would be forced to dock somewhere else until it passed through

-Bruno would sit there for hours not knowing if he was okay or not

-Bruno Bucciarati does not cry, but on those nights he did.

-Because he couldn’t lose his dad, too.

-He would always come back, of course, and he would always ask why Bruno’s eyes and nose were so red

- “Just Summer allergies, papà. Don’t worry about it.”

-He loves the rain, but thunder still kind of freaks him out 

-After his father got attacked, he dropped out of school to work for Passione. When he was well enough to go home, his dad finally figured it out and they had a huge fight about it

-Bruno slept half-awake by the front door with a pocket knife in his hand and he would board up all the windows

-The longer he worked for Passione the more him and his father drifted apart. Bruno was always paranoid after that, but he could never tell him why and it caused a huge rift between them

-His mother didn’t come to Paolo’s funeral

-He moved out almost immediately after the funeral and Polpo got him a place to live after he heard what happened

-He doesn’t often visit his father’s grave, but he constantly thinks about him with every decision he makes

-He always wanted to retire someone close to the sea.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Yeah ahaha did you know I’m capable of really sad headcanons? YOU DO NOW. Were Fugo and Abba’s ridiculously long? YeAh :) Were Nara and Trish’s ridiculously short? Also YeAh :(

Again, a wonderful beautiful thanks to @jjadegreen because my small brain self can’t come up with all the headcanons on my own ;’)

If you’ve got a question, come and vibe and hit up my inbox!! <3

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #giorno giovanna #trish una #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #leone abbacchio #family feels #headcanons #ask-c-c-cherry #guido mista #again Im sorry half of these are so depresso

[evanescentdawn]

(22th sept)

today’s writing:

—okay, okay. so I’ve been REALLY missing wmmap a lot, went to my notes idea list and like holy heck THERES A LOT OF TEMPTING IDEAS IN THERE. I actually started writing for one!! Sad, angsty one oh boy. Endgame Diana/Penelope, which lol. No idea on where I’m gonna go with it. But man, the Claudia is SAD and I’m in tears sob sob. T.T

—there was this other idea 👀👀 that I really also wanted to write. It’s claudia and yeah, sad but also a little more…..fluffy…happy??? I MEAN AFTER THE BEGINNING LOL DHGKKGG it’s mostly Diana supremacy which YEAH DIANA!!! SHE IS SO !!! like really idea initially was not supposed to have a whole backstory about how Claudia got together but just the scene about Claude meeting Diana’s soul fragment and stuff…. But well. My past self also decided to drop that backstory in and I COULD NOT WRITE IT. Damn…. This one UNFORTUNATELY is not working well…

—okay so I was reading athykiel fic, caught feelings, and was like huh what if athy & lucas was bffs and Lucas teases athy because of her feelings for Kiel and UH. UH. THIS TURNED INTO ATHYKIEL AND LUCKIEL???? I swear the lucakiel was only there for crack, and nothing else and only to tease Athy BUT BUT… of course the multi shipper within me, and the ot3 lover, went crazy and I COULD NOT HAVE LUCAS TRYING TO TEASE ATHY BUT THEN GOONH HUH KIEL ISNT SO BAD AND Y’KNOW ACTUALLY FALLING IN LOVE….. ijekiel should get everyone. He deserves. IJEKIEL SUPERMACY!!!! djfhfjfjfkg also unbelievable!! it felt like I was writing lots but then I looked at the word count and it was only around 500 words??? I thought it was like 600 or 700 so XD

—whoop! Whoop! I worked on my Athy time travel fic. lil bit editing and we are moving on!! with the plot!! SOON THERE WILL BE ATHY & CLAUDE MEETING. I’ve lost my original line of thoughts that I had for this fic….. this is why. I should have wrote notes, but oh well. winging this now ^^

—planning! Planning! I expanded on the Felix & Claude idea I had ~ which of course. Gave me more ideas sob sob. but oh gosh, this one…. I have so many feels. oh man.

—okay so I was really in wmmap mood and wanted to Drabble stuff but no ideas, so prompt it is! HDJKFF THIS WAS ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO BE DOMESTIC PROMPTS but lololol I turned into “Lucas kills people and Athy is tired of it” fic. lololol he’s like a cat I love them <333

—started this lil athanasia & Claude thing but to be honest…..I totally forgot about it and have no clue on where I was gonna go with it before I got distracted by something else Ajfkfkfkf

#ignore me; im rambling #highlights

[lavenderbexlatte]

fic writer tag~

tagged by the wonderful @sleepylixie and @aliceu

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

a lot of anime ones 🤣 and a ton of classic ones (i was a superwholock, guys-). miraculous ladybug was my last big main fandom before kpop, though!

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

kpop :D stray kids, nct, itzy, mamamoo, bts, got7...so many. pretty much any kpop group or idol that i’m into, i’ll write for! and my requests are always open 👀

3. how long have you been writing?

i started posting fanfic in 2010, but i’ve been writing my whole life. the first full story i remember, i was...8? so 16, 17 years. 

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

ao3 and tumblr! but i was an og fanfic/net user, and i’ve used livejournal, twitter, pretty much everything...

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

slice of life! i just want to tell simple stories, things that we all feel. people who do their best. events that we can all understand. 

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

pantser, 100%. i have never fully planned a story in my life.

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

oneshot. i love a multichap but i prefer not being restrained by the obligation to keep going 😅 i’m really inconsistent-

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

there’s no perfect amount - however many words get the story across is the right amount. i usually write 7-10k per chapter, but that’s only recently! i used to write way less, i’ve been working on getting more words in per release. 

9. what is your longest published story? 

i have an NCT/SM Entertainment WIP called The Lotus Effect on my ao3 that’s about 75k? on tumblr, my longest fic is holding you like this (14k) and the more & more series as a whole is nearly 60k, so far 🤔

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

holding you like this! i know that i’m best known for more & more, but this fic is my best skz work so far. maybe my best work of all. 

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

ball & chain! that fic was just an idea tossed around on the tl ages ago, but it has some of my fave nsfw themes in it~

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

there are some, i think. found family, difficult relationships with parents, college/uni settings, miscommunication as a plot device, no straight characters  ever. i love characters who are just good people who make mistakes. i like happy endings. 

13. current number of wips?

um...four? five? i don’t actually usually have a lot of ideas going at once! 

14. three things you have noticed about your writing?

my use of commas and fragments is RIDICULOUS. i repeat sentiments a lot, for emphasis, and i have no idea if it’s annoying to read. and i write banter/comedic dialogue better than anyone i know 😌

15. a quote you like from a published story?

i’m cheating here’s two: 

He smiles at you like nothing’s changed. Has anything changed? (from without a word)

and

“You’re changing the subject,” Hyuck chastises, “But to answer your question, Renjun slide-tackled me into a vending machine in the social science building, so he’s on time-out. And Lia got a girlfriend.” 

“Tragic.”  (from sweet tooth)

16. a quote from an unpublished story?

“Look, I know you fucking hate him or whatever, but he’s important to me. I though you understood that,” Changbin says, impatient and sharp. “He’s been really fucking messed up since graduation, and I’m worried.” 

hmmm wonder what this is from 👀👀👀👀

17. space for you to say something to your readers~~

my lil coffee beans 🥺 no clue why you’re all here but i fucking love you, please enjoy my bullshit forever 

tagging: christ on high, you guys know i suck at this...if you write, please give it a go! and tag me so i can see 👀

#tag games

[strosmkai-rum]

WISP HEADCANONS

so these headcanons are generally for the college-dwelling ones in crossed by magnus, a fic by @tamrielbymemai and i! if you haven’t read it already, highly recommend it. 

credit to mems and @shady-skooma-dealer for their awesome wisp headcanons! i don’t know how you managed to turn floating balls of magic into something so cute, but, well, here we are!

anyways, this covers wisps, wispmothers, and ice wraiths, enjoy!

Overview

- wisps are generally passive creatures, unless rallied by a wispmother or threatened.

- they have some sort of sentience as well

- they can be small like thumbnail small and large as in basketball large

- the smaller ones like to hitch rides on basically anything, including other wisps.

- they will hide in piles of clothing or between stacks of books. basically anywhere that's small and closed off. and warm too.

- smacks pile of laundry, like a million wisps come flying out

- super tiny wisps sitting in loopy earrings, like swings

- they'll also sit in the folds of your robes if they're loose. it's not uncommon for a student to show up to class, and make to sit down when a zillion tiny wisps come flying out of their sleeves and hood.

- they'll sit on your head until they leave or you shoo them away. they stay away from lecture halls and crowded areas though.

- UNLESS it’s meal time. they will harass you for food. even if they primarily feed off of the college magicka founts.

- they don't allow wisps in learning areas because they like to get in the way of experiments/concentration.

- they're dif colors other than standard blue as well

- a whole rainbow of colors that will harass you in between classes

- they steal random junk from apprentices rooms to make little treasure piles for themselves

- students learn telekinesis and levitate just to steal back their stuff (augh i know i know, the levitate act banned it, but surely some knowledge of it had to have survived. besides, winterhold's stormcloak territory. they don't belong to the empire, should be pretty okay to learn it there.)

- they'll pluck your hair ties and pins out and float away

- honestly they'll take anything loose. papers, quills, handkerchiefs, and yes, shiny stuff. especially shiny stuff.

- they like soul gem fragments. it's shiny, small, and the light refraction makes it look cool.

- they will find little homes for themselves. sometimes they're bowls. sometimes they're skulls. sometimes they're a bag that an apprentice threw over one to try and catch it.

- they never got the bag back.

- you could probably make a silver lined net and catch wisps like you would with fishing

- but they probably won’t be too happy about it

- they dim out at night when they sleep.

- look up into the rafters at night and you'll see a mass of dim colors.

- focal points attract a lot of wisps; they feed off of the magicka there.

- at night in the college they follow the stream of magicka upwards and disperse at the top to sleep in the rafters.

- if you’re an especially powerful mage or just got out of a battle/were cleansing the focal points, they’ll swarm you. it doesn’t hurt, just tickles a bit and also you won’t be able to see where you’re going at all so stand still til they leave

- WISP CLOAK WISP CLOAK

- they bond with students/faculty often. students especially like to give little gifts to them.

- they have favorite people! they’ll flitter around you and join you at meal time and sneak into your bag and hood more often than usual.

- you might see a wisp sitting on someone's shoulder as they walk around or study

- or make a nest in their favorite person's bed or closet

- during lunch time, they’ll all simultaneously swarm the food tables and harass students. they know better than to bother the faculty, except tolfdir who feeds them tiny pieces of his meal all the time.

- wisp families. that is all.

- they can dim their color to blend in with the background.

- they’ll fly around at night sometimes, you’d be lucky to see a wisp light show at the college

- sometimes they bury themselves in snow to nap and when you step anywhere near them they all come shooting out of the ground and flee

- wisps feed off of magic so the college, being in the north as well as a major magicka fount, is basically a safe haven for them

- they are also attracted to barrows, usually with active draugr/dragon priests as their presence exudes magicka as well

- they'll just live in the rafters and beams though, not bothering anyone

- they are very curious though! and like to explore places

- so they're usually on the run

- alternating between settling down, having families, raising baby wisps to adults, and then breaking up to all go explore dif areas

- they have great memory and will remember people/other wisps by their life signature

- little wisp family reunions!

- in game, it's implied that they're lost souls in servitude to a wispmother.

- so maybe their souls didn't reach the afterlife, instead reanimating (sort of) into wisps.

- there’s more theories that imply that wisps are ghosts of snow elves, or that wispmothers were powerful sorceresses who sought eternal life, through undeath.

Wispmothers

- they can summon wisps to aid them in battles 

- their clothing is made of wisp wrappings 

- they are generally peaceful as well, someone with the blessing of kyne can get pretty close and just vibe with them and not get attacked 

- other people should maintain a few yards distance

- they can and will sense hostility. they can read emotions, and while language isn't something they can understand, they'll just get a read on your energy and whatnot.

- wisps can also do this

- wispmothers float, don’t touch the ground unless grievously injured

- only seen in cold areas, where snow and frost are around 25/8 

- they'll uh, melt, if not. 

- fire's effective against them and a good scare tactic if one is unusually aggressive 

- they’re resistant to shock magic though; the glow dust they drop has a resist shock effect, so they might have that too

- only silver/magic works against them 

- wisps are super agile and cold and bitey too, so together they're pretty powerful

- if seriously injured, they'll call off the wisps and sink into the snow. so in a matter of seconds they'll all be gone.

- the way wispmothers might rally wisps might be something like mind control, where wisps just naturally heed the call and attack, but if the effect disappears, they’re just a bunch of naturally passive creatures in a very hostile situation, so naturally they’ll flee. 

- in rare instances though, they’ll decide to attack you instead of fleeing. 

- hc that wispmothers attack very suddenly, rushing and stunning you. but for the most part it's 2 mph easy floating.

- it's very easy to like, underestimate wisps and wispmothers, and enter a battle with them and die. they are very unassuming, you might not even be able to pick their forms out from the endless snow tundra or ice cliffs 

- and they don't make the telltale hissing noises of wraiths

- they're also mistaken for ice wraths sometimes from people who don’t know better, which is, a lot of them. 

- when they die/are killed, they disintegrate into a pile of wisp wrappings as well as glow dust.  

Ice Wraiths

- lil hc that ice wraiths are just corrupted wisps 

- wraiths have a more solid form of straight up ice that can be damaged by normal steel.

- and when you kill an ice wraith, the ice body was like, acting as a prison to host the wisp

- and upon destroying it a little wisp will just leave its prison and go to god knows where 

- they might thank you by flying around you a few times or leaning in close 

- again, fire magic is very effective. but wraiths are less likely to be scared off by it, and will just charge instead.

- you can only harvest teeth/ice shards from them, no glow dust cause the wisp wasn’t killed. just the, uh, malevolent spirit of the wraith was dispelled?

- it’s preferable to use magic/thick gloves when removing the teeth. they’re super super cold. ice burns galore.

- the good news is that the ice their bodies are made out of doesn’t melt in normal heat conditions. you could toss it into fire and it’ll be fine.

- but, when exposed to fire salts/fire magic, they’ll melt up into essence real fast.

#skyrim #tes #headcanons #my headcanons #lore #ice wraiths #wisps #wispmothers

[nights-at-crystarium]

Talking about THE comic!

I yelled about it randomly on my personal twitter or in the tags here but probably it’s a better idea to write the first “official” post C:

So, the two idiots I’ve been drawing for half a year now. Mostly self-indulgence, but also a slow preparation for THE comic. At first I merely wanted to tell what atrocities Vivi did in Norvrandt and how that affected their relationship, giving it, I dare fucking say, a rather unique angsty spice.

I’ve never written before, in late January/February I started scripting the Vivi-flavored ShB+5.x story to casually drop it maybe in several releases. A month or two forward, I’ve gone completely mental practiced writing fics (one published, a few more ready, a few more cookin’ but I’ll keep them until the corresponding Fragments are released), spent every day thinking about them so obsessively that the planned comic script got remade with slighly more finesse on my end as a writer, more depth as ViviRaha completely went out of control as characters, and their story started expanding in all directions at once.

I Wrote A Lot and I still keep adding a bit here, a bit there at least once a week. By now the broad concept is fleshed out, just as the characters, everything’s ripe and juicy and ready for consumption. Only one lil thing: now I’ve actually gotta draw it :’D

When am I actually starting? How will it look? Will it be free? And other questions that you guys might have, I’ll try to cover under the cut.

“Fragments” is a wolgraha-centered (duh!) comic that’ll be published here on tumblr for free. I’ll be crossposting it to twitter but the format’s oriented for this hellsite first and foremost. Not sure about the actual webcomic platforms, too much hassle for now. I’m still thinking how to handle the early access and whatnot, I MUST think about it since my art is the only source of my income. Likely I’ll have one release up on tumblr and two next ones on Patreon and Kofi to support my further work on the comic.

I AM anxious about it. My life currently is a huge unstable mess, mildly put, so I’m extra worried about starting the comic, announcing the release schedule, then getting blindsided by something new irl (so far 2022 had 3 major events that left me crippled for weeks - speaking of the personal scale events ofc) and having to go on a break that’d last for who knows how long, and how it’d impact my art style (yeah my mental state, my productivity and the very way I draw are unfortunately linked). There’s no guarantee of a safe and stable life for me atm, the best I can do is to start the comic regardlessly and hope shit doesn’t get worse.

So far the plan is to post every Friday (because Fragments Friday, ha!), anywhere between 2 and 10 pages (2 horizontal frames per page like in the early Tamen De Gushi), depending on the script. Max 10 pages because that’s how much a tumblr photopost can have. I call this “release”. Some scenes will be short and sweet and easily contained within one release, the others will span over multiple releases.

I’m NOT sure I can handle the weekly release schedule. I’ll try and see. I still have to dedicate most of my art juices to the stuff that pays for my rent and food, unfortunately. If I can’t keep up, I’ll dial it down to every other Friday, i.e. 2 releases a month.

Why “Fragments”? The releases won’t always be tightly connected between each other by the plot, yes they vaguely follow the canon timeline, yet many of them will be like glimpses into their everyday life, hence Fragments. I’m aware it’s cheeky, considering the Shards and all that. So, getting that out of the way: Vivi and Raha are NOT fragments of each other! They’re two separate entities, yes, mirrors and missing puzzle pieces of each other, but only that :>

The pages won’t be numbered, but each release I’ll number and put in a comic masterpost for the easy permanent access.

The script’s 20k+ words, some of those are my technical notes, some parts could be dropped, rewritten etc. The major beats are set, the rest’s still a wip. I don’t worry too much about polishing the text right now, I’ll have time for that during the storyboarding. Some scenes will have to be adapted for the visual format anyway. Here’s how my comic folder looks so far.

*screams in terror because chapter 1 INDEED HAS NO NAME YET*

The story itself still mostly takes place in ShB+5.x, save for the chapter 1 which is ARR. I carved out two “time pockets” for ViviRaha to rest and breathe and be happy or angsty in, post-5.0 and post-5.3, chapter 6 and chapters 9 and onward, respectively. Chapter 11 is my personal ShB epilogue. Chapter 12 still happens during the post-5.3 time pocket and focuses on Vivi’s background, by then you should be invested enough to care about that :> Chapter 13 is still tentative, an even deeper dive into Vivi’s past, showing his, gasp, old flames! A bunch of them. And chapter 14, if there’s ever such a thing, would finally move on to Endwalker. But for now I’m staying in my ShB bubble. There’s an in-character reason why I don’t wanna subject Vivi to the Endwalker events just yet. We’ll see. We’re speaking of a behemoth of a story that’ll take several years to get out. I have ample time to think about the later chapters.

Characters? Mostly ViviRaha (what? NO WAY), Alisaie’s the second most visible canon character, followed by Thancred, Lyna and Feo Ul. The Chais, Ardbert, Emet, Alphinaud, Tataru, Y’shtola, Estinien and Urianger have just a few lines. I’d LOVE to have more Urianger, who knows, maybe I can train my writing muscles and wedge more of his scenes in. Ryne and Krile as decorations (sorry!). Cid and Rammbroes in chapter 1. More ocs will appear in chapter 12. Chapter 13 has.... Drumroll...... Aymeric and Haurchefant as Vivi’s old flames. They were important. But you’ll have to survive until THAT late point in time to see them <w< There are some more ocs/npcs as well.

Since I’m looking at the weekly amount of (not always, but often) 10 pages each with 2 frames, I need to think about optimization. I’m not used to monochrome and I LOVE colors, so I wanna try doing something like this. Color is the quick and fun part for me, however, I still need time to train my hand in the lineart department. It won’t be super polished just because I’m not about that, but I wanna be personally happy with my sketchy style. I’d say I’m 70% there.

Drawing them nearly every day, figuring out their proportions and outfits, practicing general anatomy, all is the preparation work. I admit being absolutely lost and terrified in the background department. I’m rather comfy and chill about the natural landscapes, THAT I have no problem with, however, I’m still unsure about the buildings and interiors that I’ll wanna avoid, but I’ll have to draw at least SOME of those. So, yet another slowing down factor. I need more practice.

Fragments will be character- and feels-centric with little to no action/combat since it’d only detract from the story. I’m trying to stay as close to the main point of this comic’s existence as possible. Just feels, lots of them. Various flavors.

More about the technical stuff: ✓ finding/making textures (the slight overlay to avoid the flat, "digital” look) ✓ making and testing a storyboard template ✓ doodling cover ideas (atm 8 or so chapters have a cover that I’m happy with) - picking a font (or making own) - making frame and bubble templates (normal speech, screaming, thoughts, etc) - finalizing character designs (proportions that I’ll stick with to avoid awkward wobbly style) - finalizing character outfits for the same purpose as above

I’ll never be ultra-completely-ready but this checklist is vital. I’m doodling like crazy to make sure the main characters look exactly how I want them to. Vivi’s more or less complete, but lately I’ve realized that I still can’t draw our beefcake cat bf like I see him in my head, so I’m working on that.

Still no deadlines, I HOPE to start before August but who fucking knows. I’ll talk some more and make a lil countdown once I have at least 3 releases ready to go. Fragments is still my self-indulgence but it’ll span over the next few years. I’ll just start it when I’ve figured out the bare minimum and flail my way from there on :’D

Fragments already has its own tag where you can see some standalone comics and illustrations that I deem fully canon. Those posts also have a chapter tag, which should help situating each event on the broader timeline.

#ffxiv: fragments #text post #nextlvl rambles

[noblechaton]

okay so this is a post I’ve wanted to make for a lil while now but I’ve been kinda....not huge on talking about what’s been going on with me health-wise bc it’s been so stressful (and writing all of this on mobile would suck lol) but anyway I feel like explaining why I haven’t been writing or even really posting too much

also a lil warning here but it gets a bit gross due to what’s going on lately so uh be careful near the end of this if ur squeamish (like me) and also this is very long bc it sorta recounts the last 6-7 months so it might be a bit messy looking

alright so. on october 28th after getting poor, fragmented amounts of sleep and having nothing to eat besides fast food bc it’s all my family got (mcdonalds in the morning and chinese food for dinner) I had this awful scary pain in my chest (upper left side, at that) and it worried me real bad but I pushed thru for a few days bc i thought maybe it’d clear itself up and stuff

but it didn’t and so after maybe a week or so with it I told my parents and we first went to my aunt’s urgent care place for an EKG (which was normal) but we were soon set up for a doctor’s appointment (my first in like....at least 5 years. probs more tbh) and he examined me but wasn’t able to figure anything out so he set up some further tests at a cardiologist and those came and went (an echocardiogram and a stress test along with some more EKGs) and all of them went well so we still had no idea what the issue is/was but I was put on a lot of medications to try and see if anything helped (plus I got put on antidepressants which was nice for a bit but they caused problems physically so I’ve stopped taking them)

by like mid febuary I think?? (and after totally reorganizing my diet for a few months to include healthier stuff and exercise) the issue started to fade and for a minute I thought it’d worked itself out

but then like two weeks before march started my wrists and ankles started hurting bad enough to cause my hands and feet to twitch and shake which terrified me but I didn’t say anything (mostly bc my family, namely my mom, is/was getting fed up with my medical stuff and I didn’t wanna make her more mad lol) however it stopped a lil before march really started

but then my head started pounding nonstop and it hurt super bad for 5 weeks (urgent care did nothing bc like. they just can’t do anything for that) and near the end of it I went and got an MRI done which came back good, just like the cardio stuff did earlier (tho it pointed out a minor sinus infection which I think is what caused/causes it??)

then near the end of march (and after taking appropriate OTC stuff for sinus infections) it sorta lessened and has since eased up despite some flare ups here and there which might be caused by....whatever’s going on now, which brings me to....

two or so days before the MRI I ended up vomiting up some food which was weird bc I don’t really vomit and then it happened the next day too and I got worried but at first I thought it was food poisoning since my diet had kinda shifted back to bad habits due to the head pains but then the day of the MRI and the day or two after that the puking stopped only to then started back up again

now something I realized after a while was that I wasn’t like actually puking like normal puke but instead it looked like it was just my food (not to be too gross but I could/can see actual pieces of food as they would have looked in my mouth sometimes) which led me to (sort of) figuring out that what I’ve been doing is actually regurgitating for some reason (everything from typical food finely chewed to apples to certain drinks like apple juice and even water sometimes to straight up mucus that runs down my throat/gets sniffled) and my throat has felt weird, like knotted up?? tight?? or something even tho I’ve only had minor difficulties swallowing sometimes (a lot of the pain/issue comes when I speak I think)

so that’s where I’m at now. for w/e reason I can’t get anything besides water and crackers down consistently (and even then those still come up sometimes) and I’ve been looking for solutions myself or to at least figure out what it is since I sort of need to be able to eat more than just once every few days (tho I seem to keep toast down which is nice)

mostly I’ve been leaning towards GERD since there’s no real/overt pains, I’ve had acid reflux all my life as far as I can remember, and it ties in with the upper chest pain and headaches but then I wasn’t doing this for the last ~7 months, this regurgitating thing only just started, so I’m not entirely convinced tho idk what else it could be (the doc I spoke to today mentioned a hernia thingy?? which is what I leaned for at first when it was just chest aches and looking at symptoms now it does kinda fit still but also it doesn’t?? so idk) 

and this entire time I’ve been scared out of my mind bc of various reasons (from not knowing what’s going on to what my body’s actually been doing to my own family members kinda not helping to put it very lightly lol) and that’s kinda why my writing drive has been next to nonexistent and I haven’t been posting all that often (and part of why I haven’t seen the ML finale - I don’t need that kinda feeling rn lmao)

now tho the plan is to get an endoscopy at the hospital sometime soon I think (I’m waiting for a scheduling phone call rn) while taking prilosec (which....isn’t really working tbh) and I’m just kinda trying to hang in there and not freak out too badly but it’s been hard lol

hopefully we can set this thing up today and get it done asap so I can maybe start being myself again sooner rather than later assuming I even can but yea!! I appreciate the patience and kindness that’s been offered to me over the last few months especially since y’all didn’t even know I was going thru anything lmao

also!! real quick!! another (maybe not as major) reason as to why writing’s slowed so much is bc I sorta ran out of room in my room and started stacking stuff on my computer and typing out full fledged fics on my lil ipod (yes, ipod, not phone) is uh really hard!! but I managed to clean some stuff up in between all of this and once I get better I’ll be doing more cleaning in my room to try and have my computer back full time

#hopefully i won't have to write a post this long again unless it's a fic lol #i'm mostly putting this out there bc i feel like i've been kinda stagnant and quiet lately and idk maybe people wanted to know why #anyway there's not any mentions of anything super gross that u might have filtered but be cautious reading this just in case

[nightphans]

A crumbling world

Hey this is lil fic I wrote with some help for phandom wars on twitter:)

One shot:

Genre: angst I guess,unrequited love:,),

Summary: dans world is crumbling.phil,his best friend,unrequited lover, whatever title you wanna use is dead.And dans falling falling apart.

And then he woke up.

Prologue (which I didn’t write):

Everything had seemed to be normal. Dan and Phil were out, just having a good day. They were walking home from Starbucks with lunch as it was pretty nice outside. Dan and Phil were crossing the street when Phil dropped his sunglasses in the road. He bent down quickly to pick them up, Dan had already crossed the street. Before Dan could react and before Phil could finish crossing the street, a high speed pick up truck comes through and smashes into Phil. A sound of glass breaks and the car comes to a halt. Dan drops everything he is holding and rushes over to Phil, sitting next to him. A shards of glass lay around Phil, his head bleeding out from the impact of the car and the ground. Dan let's out a blubbering sob as Phil breathes lightly, not speaking just looking up. Dan lifts Phils head into his lap. Phil just looked up. There was a bruise forming on Phils face. Phil was losing a lot of blood.

“Phil look at me, please stay alive please. Please” He whispered softly as he heard sirens approaching.

Phils body got cold. His breathing barely there.

“Please Phil stay here with me. “ Dan begged as Phil became pale, his body no longer ridded of human life.of joy.of spirit.

His eyes no longer had their spark. Only dead pools of blue. He sobbed as he carressed Phil's face. Phil let out a very tiny last breath before what little life he had left dissapeared. Phil died. Everyone watched as ambulance and police rushed them away. The driver only sat in their truck, shocked at what happened. Dan didn't noticed anything around him, his world crumbled as the only best friend he had was gone.

“N-no..n-NO THIS-TH-THIS CANT...PHIL” Dan pleaded, Phils blood on his hands.

Then everything went black.

•

•

•

•

•

Drowning.

Dan was certain he was drowning. The question was, in what? misery? depression? Perhaps even grief?

Scratch that.

It was tears.

Dan's eyes slowly cracked open. The familiar darkness in his room fell over him. He felt his sheets. He was in his bed. He felt terrible. Exhausted.

Sitting up slowly, he stretched out his legs. His hand brushing the back of his neck,immediately meeting the wet, warmth plastered on his neck,hair and cheek.

Strange.

Looking down, feeling around on the luminous white fabric hidden amongst the dark void of his room, it was apparent his pillow was stained left, right, and center with a puddle of droplets.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his burning eyes.They were tired,almost drooping in the anticipation of sleep.

Unfortunately every time he closed them he was reminded of everything.

A choked sob barely escaped his throat as he dwelled back on the dream only previous minutes, even seconds ago.

Phil.

God, that absolute shit. Of course, Dan knew he wasn’t really dead. And yet…..

It had felt so real.

He feared that if he closed his eyes again, the endless pool of black behind his lids would merge into yet another image, another nightmare in which he’d have to watch Phil’s lifeless form lay pale and limp, Dan’s best friend’s blood on his hands as he held him, watching him take his final breaths. Watching those sparkling eyes fade to a fragment of what they once were.

Watching The glow Phil seemed to always be emitting, faded out of existence.Reduced to just a memory.

Phil reduced to just a memory.

Dan closed his eyes,remembering the events that had caused his best friends sudden death.

A hint of bile seemed to rise up to his throat,mainly due to the recoil he felt at the realisation that phil could be removed from existence any day now.

Any.fucking.day.

And then Dan’s mind wandered ,what would it be like once he died?

Sure, people would miss him, he’d make an impact. But in the long course? In a century’s time? No one would have even known he was there.

The thought made him feel sick.

He’s joked about the inevitability of death but…..those were just jokes. In truth, it terrified him, it would terrify anyone, right? He wasn’t alone….right?

And anyways, He didn’t believe in a higher power, so where would he go after death? What would it be like? What would happen to everyone who ever knew him?

But then he recalled phils limp form in his own shaking hands,remembered the agonising screams that unknowingly left his own mouth while he called for help,for both himself and phil

Even the thought of ever sleeping again seemed like a fucking joke.

Dan closed his eyes, attempting to count to 10. He felt his exhausted body get begin to rest but his head continued racing. His eyes felt heavy. For days he got little to no sleep.

1

What if- no,don’t get distracted

2

What time is it anyway?

3

I wonder if Phil would’ve min-

Fuck it.

He lifted the duvet over his shivering body, slipping each foot into his slippers; which Phil, coincidentally, had given him for Easter. His thin, nimble fingers reached for the light switch on the wall.

His shadow seemed to be shaking behind him against the shimmering light, he looked away.

Phil wouldn’t mind, he thought, after all….we’re friends.

Best friends.

If only we were more

Dan clenched his fist, digging his nails into the layer of skin sitting upon his palm,focusing on the pain in order to erase those thoughts. He took in a deep breath, breathing in time with his own footsteps as he left the comforting yet depressive state of his own room, taking small strides until at last, his destination had been reached.

There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

The past was the past. He couldn’t change that.

If only he could.

If only he had made the move back then.

If only-

He knocked on the door.

After an awkward moment of silence and uncertainty Dan knocked again, he heard a muffled grunt, some footsteps followed by a shriek of pain and then a string of curse words.

Dan chuckled fondly, knowing Phil, he had probably stepped on a Lego-like object or something of the sort.

After two agonising moments filled with anticipation the door opened, a tired Phil revealed behind it.

Messy black hair, soft pale freckled skin, obnoxiously bright boxer shorts and a sore-on the eye blue t-shirt.

Phil

Rather than looking down to see 2 pairs of fierce, yet mesmerising crystals that were held within Phil’s eyes, Dan was met with the folds that covered them, blinking away sleep that probably seemed oh so desirable at the ungodly hour of 3am that Dan had never seemed to notice it was.

Dan smiled sheepishly once Phil finally looked up at him with slight confusion and perhaps a hint of annoyance. However, his expression changed completely when he seemed to notice how red Dan’s eyes were,how oddly pink cheeks were stained with cooling droplets,perhaps even the strained smile that had failed to mask dans evident emotions

“Are you okay?” Phil’s deep, sleep ridden yet concerned voice disrupted the natural flow of Dan’s thoughts.

Dan nodded absentmindedly, walking into Phil’s room and shutting the door behind him

“Sorry” he barely whispered, voice barely audible due to the scratchiness and obvious hurt from all the crying.

Who even thought of crying? A horrible adaptation really. Feeling vulnerable? Okay! Let’s make liquid pour out of your eyes, a key feature on your face, so everyone knows!

Thanks evolu-

“Dan?” Phil repeated for the third time, gently shaking the brunette, causing said boy to look up in a daze. He really needed to control his day dreaming.

Or night dreaming since it was like, 3am? If that was a thing.

God, he was a mess.

“Dan? Hello? I’ve been calling your name for the last minute….can you hear me?” his voice seemed to hold genuine concern, looking Dan straight in the eyes once he knew he had caught his attention.

Dan eyes began watering, tears brimming at the soft skin, skimming over the dark bags he had received in return of late nights procrastinating video ideas and aimlessly scrolling on the internet till the very peak of dawn.He couldn’t help but tear up seeing phil very much alive.

Thank god.

Phil shushed him, embracing him into a comforting hug. He had no idea what was going on, but what he did know was that this was Dan, who seemed so fragile and helpless at the moment.

Phil couldn’t bare to turn him away. Dan tried to hold in a shaking sob but it only made him cries louder. His breathing was shaking and he felt as though his lungs would collapse. Give in at any moment.

Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s body tighter. Their chests are pressed together, flesh touching flesh, and Phil feels so comfy and soft and warm. Dan’s crying into his shoulder, babbling incoherent pleas and apologies. “I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you. So much.”

Phil runs his fingers through Dan’s messy hair, making him cry even more because he’s so scared of losing Phil. Losing his touch, his smile, his stupid puns. Dan can’t imagine a life without him.

“I won't leave you. I promise. “ Phil said softly, holding Dan gently, scared of breaking him almost. He wondered what could have made Dan fall apart like this, perhaps a bad dream?

Dan nodded,pulling apart reluctantly.He looked phil straight in the eyes and it only took phil to gently place his hands on dan for everything to come spilling out of his mouth,like an overflowing dam that had finally had its barrier removed.Or the gate separating celebrities from their fans had been broken down.

The thought almost made him giggle.

Almost.

By the time dan had explained everything to phil,he was engulfed in a comforting hug,Phil gently wiping away the tears freely roaming down dans face.

“- I just…..I was so scared I had lost you” dan blabbed openly while Phil listened “so fucking terrified,had to see your face completely pale and just horrible because fuck phil I love you so goddamn-“

Dan froze,breathing heavily and inconsistent. Fuck,did he just say that?

Did he really just say that?

Fuck

Before phil even had a chance to respond,dan was up.It had never been a natural instinct of his to face the consequences of what he did,it was always flee the moment he opened his goddamn mouth.

God. This was such a mess.

Dan was already ripping through the blankets,shaking heavily as he almost power-walked to the door,muttering small ‘sorry’s to disguise his obviously fractured breathing pattern.

Everything was spinning,why was everything spinning?

Suddenly an anchor seemed to pull him down,a steady being held him tightly,repeating his name over and over.

It was Phil,that was recognisable,so why couldn’t Dan answer back?

Oh right,he was having a panic attack.

After another 20 minutes of trying to calm dan down, Phil had succeeded. Of course,he was still crying and his breathing was still slightly fragmented and disjunct.

But at least he could breath

“Dan? honestly….” phil shook his head fondly,smile evidently concerned yet amused,eyes twinkling.

“You need to stop jumping to conclusions god…..did you seriously think I would get angry at you telling me you love me? I know that,I love you too,I always have” he chuckled

Dan's heart skipped a beat,his face showing a range of emotions. Confusion, happiness, surprise, hurt from the previous events.

“R-really?” Dan choked.

Phil nodded smiling “of course! You know that! Everyone knows that! After all, you’re my best friend”

And just like that, Dans world crumbled once again.

@phanfictioncatalogue @pfclibrary

#a crumbling world #phanfiction #angst #nightphans fics #yeet #phanfictioncatalogue #unrequited love #fanfiction #phanfic #phan #dan

[spitfirerose]

It’s Noct Your Fault ((Prompto x Noctis/Pain))

Back at it again with a lil bit of fic, this time inspired by @kaciart’s http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/162720647938 (As such, there is an ill character that throws up, if that grosses anyone out).

Prompto’s been feeling under the weather lately, at least that’s what he’s been trying to convince himself.

Yeah, if that weather was a gods damn hurricane followed by five tsunamis, ten monsoons, and a dozen squalls. He’s really just waiting for the ground to crumble away and mercifully swallow him whole already. Chills of sweat have him drenched beneath the swaddle of blankets as if he’d marathoned the foul conditions instead of having confined himself to bed for the past couple days.

Prompto can’t remember when he’s eaten an actual meal last, and doesn’t feel like throwing it back up like he had yesterday’s breakfast of nibbled toast, or what little water he’s managed to sip down. A half-lidded glance over at the nightstand reminds him that the glass he seeks is on the floor, knocked over by poor coordination of his body’s further betrayal. The groan that slips past cracked lips is hoarse, conveying just how shitty he feels as he slowly, slowly props himself up on his elbows, squeezing his eyes shut until the surge of dizziness passes.

The piercing chirp of his phone going off nearly has him cry. It’s a text from Noct, and he doesn’t need to see the reminder that they’ve got training later today.

“C’mon, Prompto, pull yourself together.” Is so, so much easier said than done, but there’s no way in hell that he’s missing any precious time with his best friend. Prompto can get through this, he has to.

The pain in his stomach is just going to have to kill him some other time.

He’s wrong.

Gods, is he wrong.

It’s going to kill him right now.

Noct had noticed his unusually pale skin, how his facade of cheer had cracks in it. He had been willing to call off the session in favor of Prompto going back home for the rest he clearly needed, or better yet playing hooky and crashing at his place under Ignis’s care. The blond had only put on a slipping smile under the excuse of a cold and playful remark of Noct just wanting to slack off as usual, insistent that he’d be alright–more than alright to kick his best friend’s butt. Noctis merely gave him a smirk at the confidence, but both knew that there was no convincing on either side.

Prompto should have been able to dodge that hit like it was nothing, should have been able to twist away with ease before the hilt of the practice blade connected with his lower right side. Noctis had been holding back, and he’s not sure whether to be insulted or relieved.

Right now, he’s settling for death.

Prompto’s not entirely sure if he screamed or not, air nearly impossible to come by as he’s doubled over, arms shaking over his gut to shield himself from further harm. Maybe it’s to keep from bursting, excruciating pain sure to tear him apart from the inside at any second. Eons away, he can make out the tones of a panicked Prince, hovering uselessly in watery vision like some kind of daydream. Fevered hallucination or not, he gets even more nauseous at the realization that he’s the source of this Noct’s worry. Prompto’s faintly aware of the words that slur out of him, hopefully some semblance of assurance to warped apologies, willing every last frayed nerve in his body to get their shit together in a last ditch effort to at least stand.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine–

Prompto collapses like a puppet’s strings have been sliced clean off, a definite cry escaping him this time as his legs give out. Noct’s fraying composure scales higher in pitch, arms cradling him upwards off the floor. It’s an awkward position, head somewhat resting on his friend’s shoulder with a blessedly cool hand plastered against his forehead while the other grips his bicep. There’s a lot of things Prompto wants to say, feebly attempting to squirm out of Noct’s firm grip as if to prove his health isn’t completely failing him. He’s sorry for being a pathetic mess like this before Noctis, first of all, tears barely able to be blinked back.

“N–Noct–” Prompto gives up lifting his head to meet the frantic midnight sky he knows are staring into him, if not darting around to find someone, anyone, to help.

“Prom? Prom, I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean to–I–I shouldn’t have–” The Prince is rambling, the first that Prompto has ever witnessed from the typically aloof individual. It’s so unlike Noctis that it’s more terrifying than whatever the hell’s wrong with him.

“Noct.” He repeats the name, voice steady before crumbling with what little self-control he has left. Black spots dance before his eyes, throat tightening as his gut churns like the wash cycle at that cheap laundromat. “Gon’ puke.”

That’s really all the warning he gets before bile is weakly hacked up, and Prompto’s skin crawls at the sensation of slick sick spewing past his chin and spilling down onto his arm to Noct’s shoes. The clenching pain is unbearable, tears streaming down his cheeks at the relentless pressure, having no shame left in his worst nightmare come true to brokenly sob in the Prince of Insomnia’s arms.

Everything hurts. It spreads beyond the searing origins around his stomach, throbbing pulse deafening in his ears as it takes over most of his dwindled focus. Typically bright crystal blue eyes are clouded over with the distant glaze of tears. Noct’s words are but a muffled shout on numb ears, listlessly making out that his friend is addressing someone. Maybe it’s to him, Prompto’s not really sure, fragmented apologies translated into pitiful moans and groans once past his lips.

An angel of scarlet hair and gold amber eyes enters his sliver of vision, blurred but beautiful nonetheless. The thought crosses his vacant mind of how odd it is for the wingless young maiden to be donned in armor, or to look so concerned as she briefly looks him over. Noct pleads something, and valkyrie is gone in the next blink. Prompto whines, feeling betrayed as to why she hadn’t come to collect him to put an end to his misery.

“Aurarius is going to get help.” Is all Noct says, repeating it over as if to reassure himself that his one and only best friend isn’t going to die in his arms because of him. “She’s fast. She’ll get a doctor in no time, and you’ll be feeling better soon before you know it. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Prompto definitely doesn’t feel okay, but the sincerity of Noct’s attempts of comfort are soft and warm contrasted to the agonizing aches and chill. If these are his last moments, he’s a pretty lucky guy. Minutes crawl by, maybe even a lifetime, before he picks up on rushed footsteps, one holding a distinctive limp. It takes a herculean effort to open his eyes, immediately regretting it as he makes out the King of Insomnia and his Shield.

His gut hurts for an entirely different reason now, going frigid like Shiva’s sealed his fate with a cruel kiss as he visibly shivers. Prompto thinks he’s trying to say he’s sorry for puking all over his son, but there’s nothing but worried kindness on the King’s solemn features as the man merely shakes his head. Noctis is reluctant to give him up to the Shield, Prompto weakly protesting that he’ll get that shining armor filthy by the dirty mess he is. Clarus Amicitia isn’t fazed in the slightest, scooping him up carefully as though the boy could shatter like he feels he will any second.

It’s funny, Prompto thinks, how surprisingly gentle the behemoth swordsman is. He’s still really sorry, though, as the shift in movement and of being lifted has yet another round of vomit dribble out of his mouth. The father of two doesn’t scold or act disgusted, instead ordering the Glaive from earlier to inform the doctor’s that they’re on the way.

The last he remembers is someone placing an aged hand on his burning forehead, promises echoing in his head that he’ll be alright.

Rest.

And so he does.

When consciousness becomes his again, Prompto is certain he’s dead.

Plush comfort surrounds him, blissfully tucked into the cozy warmth. It takes a moment to process why it’s such a big deal, finally feeling the dull throb down at his stomach as his body hazily reports in. Faint voices are hushed nearby, deep in conversation that he can’t make out for the light sound of snoring at his left side. Curiosity gets the better of Prompto as it always does, neck stiff as he turns his head in the direction of the noisy breaths. The lighting is dimmed down wherever he is, but his eyes still burn as he slowly blinks them open. A disheveled mess of raven hair takes up most the slumbering face of Noctis, and he’s tempted to snort at the unsurprising sight. Prompto settles for a soft smile instead, comforted by the presence of his  hero of a best friend more than Noct’ll ever know. The name is more of a whisper of air, about near to confess his feelings when something gently squeezes his right hand.

It’s quiet, Prompto realizes, the voices having halted since having moved. His fingers twitch in the hand that holds his, making the effort to turn his head as eyes narrow in concentration. Everything’s so foggy, like he’d been sleeping for some time, aware now of a weight sitting at the edge of the bed. Prompto’s gaze wanders from the hand up onto its’ owner’s arm, soon squinting up at the face of his King.

A dry groan escapes him, scratching at his throat. A glass of water is pressed against his lips, strong yet sure arms keeping him upright long enough to greedily drink its contents. Clarus nods in approval once emptied, setting him down against the welcoming pillows once more.

Time passes slowly as his senses return, guilt tripping him as to why the two of the most important men of Eos are at his bedside. He’d say their behavior is like that of parents, if he had to guess the foreign feeling that tugs longingly at his heart. Regis’s voice holds a soothing calmness as he informs the blond of all that had occurred–‘operation’ followed by words too large to keep up with in his current state–, before finally asked how he’s feeling at how dazed he looks.

Prompto doesn’t lie like he had to Noctis. He’s too tired to pretend that everything is perfect, even admits to the implication that his adoptive guardians are never really home–but they’re still the best parents he could ask for, really! Even if sometimes they don’t leave him enough money for food during their absence, but that’s alright because he’s picked up a part-time job to help keep the power on and the cupboards stocked. It’s the least he can do for them, grateful to have a roof over his head and aw man, they’re really going to be disappointed in him after hearing about this–

Clarus rises abruptly out of his chair, nearly toppling it over as he storms out of the bedroom. There’s a startled squeak and salute of his name as the door just about flies off its hinges, Prompto catching a glimpse of the redheaded Glaive sneaking a look in. Relief flashes across her features at seeing him awake, then she’s gone yet again as the door is quietly closed as if remembering the occupants inside.

“It would seem you’ve worried quite a few people whom care deeply for you, Prompto. Myself included.” Regis breaks the silence, lips quirked upwards as his gaze lingers at the doorway before landing back on the pair. Noctis still sleeps undisturbed in the slightest, and the smile remains for just a moment longer. “I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer to watch over your recovery, but I trust my son can keep you company in my stead.”

Prompto nods, a strange kind of sadness washing over him as his hand is freed and patted for reassurance. The King rises to his feet, albeit with a quickly concealed grimace of the pain that ails him.

Maybe it’s selfish to wish he didn’t have to go, a childish thought that Prompto tries to banish to no avail.

No one ever stays. He learned that a long time ago.

He frets with what he can grasp of the blanket, biting at his bottom lip in both ashamed of the childish desire and to prevent himself from blurting the embarrassing request out.

It’s the father in Regis that knows better.

“Perhaps I can stay until you fall back asleep? Would you like that?” Bless the Six, he takes his place back on the bed’s edge even before Prompto nods that yes, yes he’d really like that.

To no surprise, he lasts only a couple minutes later, and Regis waits a good dozen more to really be sure before gingerly rising as not to disturb the two.

“Rest well, my sons.”

#prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #regis lucis caelum #clarus amicitia #promptis #featuring ffxv oc #aurarius lamina #my writing #went from hurt to comfort to heartbreak whew #in other words i'm done and eh #if you reblog you gotta tag your thoughts people #being prompto is sufferring

[ladieslovingladiesandfics]

Better Late Than Never

Anon asked:  HEYYYY! I hope you did good on your finals. Heaven knows I didn't 🙄. Could I request a fic Wynonna x Reader where reader is Waverly's best friend that has been flirting with Wynonna and during a revenant attack saved Wynonna's life? And Wynonna realizes she likes her back.

I did pretty good. I mean I passed ma classes so I’m gooood.

And you got it babes! I’ll see what I can do. Also I’m sorry I didn’t upload this yesterday. I passed out haha.

Warning: This is short, hilarity, injury, angst, blood, idk wtf i was writing????

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Waverly wants to kill her sister.

Don’t worry, she loves Wynonna but what the hell? How could her sister be so fucking dense to the affections of Y/N, who flirted with her mercilessly. Her best friend thought it was fruitless to keep pursuing her sister.

Which has lead the youngest Earp to sit in front of her sister, arms crossed in front of her chest and a confused Wynonna sitting in front of her. “What’s wrong, Wave?” asks the heir, sipping from her jug of bourbon. 

The young woman snatches the jug away, tossing it into the trash can beside her, with her elder sister whining in protest. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

“What about her?” The gunslinger huffs out. “Did you really need to throw my drink away, Wave? Come o-”

“God damn it, Wynonna, she likes you!” Waverly throws her hands into the air, exasperated. “She likes you!”

The elder sister stops, staring at her younger sibling with wide eyes. She points a finger at herself. “Me?”

“Yes! You! You fucking dense woman.” she rolls her eyes. “Y/N has been flirting with you for a while now. How the hell do you no-”

“Wynonna! Wave!” Nicole busts through the door of their home, Dolls right behind her. “We got a problem.”

“How bad?” her hand falls down to her gun.

“Y/N has been taken hostage.” Dolls answers.

Waverly’s heart drops, and Wynonna has never looked so pale. It was the Earp heir that runs out the door first, with the others following behind.

“The moment I get my hands on that fucking Revenant, I’m going to fucking kill them.” Wynonna glares at the barn where Y/N was, her hand on Peacemaker. “I want them to die slowly, I want to see them burn for hurting Y/N, I’m going to fucking march in there-” “No you fucking won’t.” Doc interjects, seeing Nicole and Dolls mumble amongst each other for a plan. “We can’t loose the Earp heir.”

“But if I don’t do anything, Y/N will be killed!” Wynonna snaps, then turns to the barn. “I’m going in.” and with the screams of her friends behind her, the woman rushes into the barn headfirst. She kicks the door down, Peacemaker drawn and in her hand. “Hands up, motherfucker!”

“Wyn!” Why was Y/N up in the rafts? Why was there a long rope? Why was- oh God.  “Evenin’,” the demon tips his hat to the heir, his hand on the back of the hostage. “Drop the gun, doll.” he demands, ready to push his victim off of the edge. “Else, your pretty lil friend here will die.”

Wynonna pauses and slowly begins to put the pistol down, “Please,” she sounds broken. “Don’t hurt her.”

A second Revenant appears from the shadows, kicking Wynonna into the dirt. 

“Hasta la vista, darling.”

“Y/N!”

Dolls appears from the window, having climbed up into the rafters. grabbing the bastard by the neck and kicking him off. Y/N was being safely lowered on to the ground.

Doc and Nicole burst in next, shooting the second man as Wynonna picks up Peacemaker. She shoots him in the head, before running over to Y/N. “Y/N! Oh thank God,” the moment her feet touch the ground, she helps remove the rope. She brings the woman in for a loving embrace, “I thought I was gonna lose you.” 

“Not yet, Wyn,” Y/N says with a chuckle. “Not yet.” when they separate, Y/N in hales deeply, “Wyn, I-” “Look out!”

Y/N pushes the woman to the ground, a shot ripping through their body, blood spattering everywhere. Wynonna screams, catching the falling body. “Y/N! Y/N! Don’t you fucking dare die on me I, I.”

“Wyn,” the woman murmurs, resting her head on her bosom. “I love you, Wyn. I love you.” and she closes her eyes.

“Y/N?” Wynonna shakes her body. “Y/N!”

“Wynonna, come on!” Doc helps lift the body into the patrol car, as they rocket towards the hospital. All the way there, Wynonna holds her hand, and prays.

“You may see her now.” 

Wynonna is the first into the room, tears leaving her eyes when she sees Y/N lying on the bed. Broken, but alive. “Hey you.” she was still covered in blood, but it didn’t matter at the moment. “How ya doing?”

Y/N smiles softly, “Fine. You?” “Alive, thanks to you.” she leans over, kissing her cheek. “Hey, Y/N...I can’t believe I never figured this out before,” she laughs awkwardly. “I like you. a lot.

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “It’s better late than never Wyn. Come kiss me.” 

“You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.” “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

#wynonna earp imagine #wynonna earp #wynonna earp x reader

[hamiltontrashaccount]

Three’s a Crowd (Anthony Ramos x Reader)

Heyyyy everyone. Hope you enjoy this fic, I loved writing this it was so much fun. Shoutout to my friend @pumpernickelbae for first reading this fic for me and being so supportive of my writing, and also, shoutout to my friend @omqitsnaya because she was so engaged while reading this and telling me all these thing while she was reading them and she's just an angel. i love them so much. 

Pairing: Anthony Ramos x Reader

Summary: You try to figure out how to tell Anthony you're pregnant. With triplets.

Word count: 2086

Warnings: Just cursing, a cute Anthony being really oblivious to everything

MASTERLIST

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You were having triplets. The moment the doctor said it you could hardly believe it.

“Excuse me?” You asked, your voice rising to high decibels.

The doctor turned to look at you. “You’re having triplets.” She said with a small smile.

You sat there, feeling shocked. When you were in the car, you were still shocked. When you got home, you were still in a state of complete shock. You and Anthony were going to have to take care of three babies. You didn’t think you could even handle one baby, and now you found out you have to take care of three.

Even through the shock, you still couldn’t help but be a little happy. You had three little people growing in your stomach. As scary as it was, it was still a little exciting.

“Oh god.” You groaned as you thought about how you were going to tell Anthony. You didn’t know how he was going to react. And even though you knew he would never, you still couldn’t help but worry that Anthony might leave you. What if he doesn't want triplets? You thought to yourself. You tried to bury that nasty thought away from your head to no avail.

“Hey babe!” Anthony shouted from the kitchen.

You yelped and jumped in the air. Anthony peeks his head out from the kitchen door way.

“Sorry, baby. Did I scare you?” He asked. You walked over to the kitchen and he walked back in, continuing whatever thing he was doing before.

“A little bit.” You replied.

He turned back to you. “I wasn’t talking about you “baby”. I was talking about our baby “baby”.”

You shook your head and laughed, refraining from responding with “Which baby are you talking about?” He continued cutting up the onions.

“So how’s our baby?” He asked. You could hear the smile in his voice and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

“They’re all doing fine!” You said cheerily.

He looked at you again, an even bigger smile on his face. “Oh that’s so fucking great.” He walked over and gave you a big kiss on your lips, then moved his lips lower so he can kiss your stomach.

You giggled, realizing he didn’t catch what you said.

“Dinner’s going to be ready in half an hour. Sit down and relax.” He said, throwing the now cut up onions into the pan.

“Isn’t it a two-show day today?” You asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, I only have like an hour and a half before I needa leave.” He responded. You nodded your head and just watched him cook. When the food was done, you both ate, talking about whatever it is that you could.

“Hey, can you get me some water real quick?” You asked him when he stood up to wash your plates.

“Yes, ma'am.” He said, taking your cup with him.

“Three ice cubes. Three babes.” You said. You added the babes at the end, a nickname you called him every once in a while. However, this time you hoped he would hear it in the context of babies. He didn’t, of course.

“Okay… Anything for you.” He said, looking at you with confusion.

He got you your water. You groaned inwardly, disappointed that your subtle confession didn’t work. You’d have to step up your game.

Anthony left, and you plotted the next triplet reveal.

A couple days later, on another two-show day, you had another plan to tell him you were having triplets.

When Anthony had gotten home late at night, you offered to get him a glass of water before bed.

“No, Y/N. You can’t walk.” He protested, getting up to get it himself.

“Anthony Ramos. I am not even three months pregnant. I can still do things for myself.” You said, pushing him back onto the bed. “I will be getting you water.”

He grumbled to himself but let you leave.

You came back into the room, holding a glass of water. In the water were three ice cubes, each with a miniature baby in them.

Anthony laughed as you handed him the glass. “Babe, you already told me you were pregnant. You didn’t have to do this.” He gave you a kiss, then drank from the glass.

You rolled your eyes. Time for a new plan.

Two weeks later it was Thanksgiving. You and Anthony had invited Daveed, Jasmine, Lin and his wife Vanessa over to your apartment for a Thanksgiving dinner. The week before, you had told Jasmine about your having triplets. She’d agreed to keep it a secret, and you and her planned how to surprise Anthony with the news at dinner. She’d had the idea to have three of everything, much like your original plan with the water (which didn’t work, and when you told her this, she just shook her head and said to try it anyway).

Because it was Thanksgiving, you’d both agreed to keep the dinner more than three items,  but everything else was in threes. Three different stuffings, three different types of meat, three different drinks to choose from, and three of every utensil. It was a very blatant message, and, according to Jasmine, “if Anthony doesn't get the idea that something is up… well, just know you're having a kid with an idiot.”

By this time, you were about 13 weeks pregnant. Your stomach wasn’t that big yet, but Lin took notice.

“Jesus, your little one’s going to be big! Look how big you already are.” Lin shouted, laying a hand softly on your stomach, and rubbing it slowly, whispering a hello to the babies.

“Lin!” Vanessa chastised.

“It’s a compliment!” He argued.

“Hi, Y/N.” Vanessa greeted, holding her arms out. You hugged her back and she laid a hand on your stomach. She said hello to the babies also and walked into the apartment to say hello to Daveed who was already there, “helping” Anthony out with the turkey (Daveed had since left the kitchen and leaned on the kitchen doorway, watching the T.V screen).

“You know, my sister was this big when she was as far along as you. She had triplets.” Lin said, a knowing look on his face.

“If you say anything to him, Lin, I swear to god, I will kick your ass.”

He raised his arms up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He gave your shoulder a light rub, then followed after his wife.

An hour later, everyone sat down for dinner. Everyone went around, saying what they were thankful for. Once you were done, you all started to grab your meals.

“Why are there three forks?” Daveed asked as he plopped mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“And spoons? And knives?” Lin added. He glanced up at you and rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he mouthed.

“It was her idea.” You answered back, pointing at Jasmine. He shook his head and laughed.

After a moment, everyone dropped the subject. Everyone had managed to comment on the number of things, except Anthony.

“Idiot.” Jasmine whispered beside you.

“Shush.” You answered back. “He’ll mention it later.”

Except, he never did.

On Christmas, the cast had to do a show, so everyone agreed to celebrate Chritmas morning together at the Richard Rogers Theater.

By this point, Lin and Jasmine had worked together to let the entire cast know you and Anthony were having triplets. You wondered how Anthony hadn’t found out yet. Everyone exchanged gifts, and you had the most gifts because everyone had bought a lot of extra things for the babies.

It soon became time to give your gift to Anthony. You had given him a gift earlier that morning (tickets to a basketball game he’d been dying to go to), but you had another gift to give. Jasmine had found this idea on some pregnancy website, and decided it would be cute for you to give to Anthony.

Anthony opened the card and read it out loud: “I have three more gifts for you, but they’re still being processed. You’ll get them in only a few more months.”

Anthony laughed, a wide smile on his face. Everyone was on the edge of their seat, thinking he had finally figured out the secret, but were incredibly disappointed when he said, “What kind of store are you buying from that they’re taking months to get you my gifts?”

Everyone audibly groaned and sat back against their seats. Anthony looked around confused. He shrugged it off. “Y/N, just cancel them. I don’t need them.”

“It’s a lil late for that, Ant.” You said. Everyone laughed, and the mood was brought back up again. The show later that day was great, but you were still wondering on how to tell Ant you were having triplets.

A few days later on New Years, you’d had another cute idea to tell him.

After the New Years kiss, you’d brought out a cake with three little people on the top of them.

Anthony laughed and said, “Is that supposed to be us and the baby? God that’s so fucking cute.” He said, grabbing the cake, putting it down and giving you another kiss.

Time for Plan E. What's plan E?

Plan E took a little longer to plan than you thought. You had to go out and order balloons to be ready for you to pick up on the day of the “party.” Then you had to go out and order cakes. Then you had to buy streamers and other decorations for the apartment. Everything was getting harder to do the bigger you got. At this point, you were 21 weeks old, so walking became more of a struggle.

Before Anthony had left for his show at night, you’d told him to hurry back as quick as he could, because you had planned a party.

“Oh, sweet.” He cheered. He gave you one last kiss and left for his show.

Thankfully Anthony wouldn’t be there for another four hours, so you were able to walk slowly when getting everything ready. Walking was something you didn’t want to do; imagine if you’d have had to run around. Everything was ready to go; now all you had to do was wait for Anthony.

“So are you guys coming over for the party or…?” Anthony asked his cast mates before he left.

“What party?” Lin answered. Anthony looked to Daveed, who shrugged his shoulders. Anthony then looked to Oak, Jasmine and Renee, who had all shrugged their shoulders.

Anthony said his good byes and took a cab to you guys’ apartment. He texted you on his way there, asking what was going on, but your only response was Shut up and come home, Ant.

When Anthony stepped into the apartment, he was surprised to see white balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling. All the balloons had the number 3 on them.

“Babe, where are you? I thought we were having a party?” he said.

“Y/N, where are you?” He repeated when you didn’t respond the first time.

“In the kitchen.” You called. He rushed to the kitchen to find more balloons everywhere, and you, standing behind the kitchen table, where there were three cakes. You pulled the string to the party popper you were holding and confetti blew out of it.

“Hey baby.” You said.

He walked closer to you and looked down at the cakes. Each cake read a different word. Together, the cakes read out “We’re having triplets.”

“What?” Anthony asked, looking up at you.

“Do you not know how to read? It says we’re having triplets.” You said, firing off another party popper.

Anthony stood shocked for another second before a big smile began to appear on his face.

“Triplets?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Like, three babies? Growing in your stomach?”

You nodded your head, laughing.

“Oh my fucking god! Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?” He shouted, hugging you tightly from the side, so he didn’t squish the babies. He looked at you and realization crossed his face. “You did. I was just too stupid to realize.”

You giggled. “Yeah.”

Tears began to appear in his eyes. “We’re having triplets. That’s three, baby! WE’RE HAVING TRIPLETS!”

You nodded your head, tears falling from your eyes. Anthony ran around the room, shouting happily about having triplets. He took out his phone and began calling people, telling them what he’d just learned.

You stood there, happy tears still falling from your eyes, wondering how you could ever think he would react badly.

#anthony ramos x reader #anthony ramos #its anthony ramos #rpf #reader insert #hamilton #hamilton cast #hamilton cast fic #lin-manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda #daveed diggs #jasmine cephas jones #vanessa nadal #pregnant #triplets #christmas #thanksgiving #richard rogers #richard rogers theater #okay #done with tags #hope you enjoy #thanks again #to my friends #love yall