#i had to skim through all my fics to see the trend

[xelasrecords]

I'm here for the fanfic writer asks! I'd like to ask 🥺, 😈, 💖, ✅ and 💔! Yes, it's a lot, but I'm curious!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Jumin and V, but not in the way that you think (aka not because I love them). Sometimes, I use my 10+ year friendship with my best friend Madeleine as an inspiration for theirs. We talk a lot about how we never have enough time since 90% of our friendship is long distance, how odd that sometimes we do and think things telepathically (she could know when to ring me at the exact time I need her and vice versa), how it's almost intuitive to know what to say to each other and anticipate what the other will do.

The security in knowing that you're deeply loved by someone you love just as much is such a rare and precious feeling I think. I'm lucky enough to have her and I always try to depict that friendship is just as meaningful as a romantic relationship.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Honestly... no. I don't really think about whether the readers would like my fic as I'm writing. I only try to do what's best for the story, but I often think "oh this is gonna HURT" *punches air in delight* after I wrote a painful piece hehe.

💖 What made you start writing?

I just couldn't stop myself from not writing about my daydreams and ideas anymore! I also wished I could relate more to the MCs in the existing fics. There was quite a lot of shy, insecure and Cinderella-esque reader inserts back then and I couldn't see myself in them. I'm comfortable with myself, I have no problem being in the centre of attention when necessary, and I'm pretty straightforward in dating so I thought I could write that kind of character for people like me!

I remember there was a Jumin's reader who felt insecure when she saw a woman who never smudged her lipstick after eating, sat with a straight posture, had a good table etiquette, and dressed up for the occasion. I was like, "Wait, that's me! Why am I the story's conflict tho" Which led me to wonder how the other woman would be perceived if she was with Jumin, if it could be done without putting another woman down.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

However messy the relationship is, there's always love underneath it all. Even in the fics where one falls out of love, they still treat the other with care and respect. I want to portray different types of healthy relationships, how sometimes what is healthy could still fall apart. And while I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of toxic relationships, I'm careful to paint them in a realistic light.

Oh and! Teasing as a mode of flirting. I think it's because I enjoy verbal sparring when I flirt to see if they can keep up with me, so that happens naturally in my fics.

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I can't read my works from a pure reader stance, but from a writer stance, it's All That Is Lost. I wrote it with my own grief as the basis—it was something I needed to write about to process my feelings. I included personal tidbits that only I can catch to immortalise the memory of the person I was losing.

Fanfic Writer Ask

#the fourth one is what took me so long to reply #i had to skim through all my fics to see the trend #thank you for asking AAA i had fun doing this #xela answers #ask game #mystic messenger #jumin han #jihyun kim

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

*Curiously skims the end of a long fanfic I’d actually stopped reading regularly a long time ago.* Okay, read the last two chapters, with a big gap from where I’d last let off as I lost track of the massive thing.  The ending on the half-read fic kind of reminds me a bit of the ending / gist of a completely different fanfic I read all the way through, a different AU that I really liked a lot.  It also reminds me of some oneshots I recall encountering having some of the same single trend among “modern” Entrapdak-fics - the trend being a hard look / harsh handling of Catra and going with non-Catradora and “Catra is alone” (with new, unnamed friends, perhaps, but no pairing and not ending with her being with the main cast).  My own stories... it seems like Catra is just kind of... there? I have done a few short fics / oneshots with a focus on her, and it’s fun to try to get inside her head, but I don’t think I’ve incorporated her heavily into anything that was fairly long / multichaptered. Early on, I liked writing Entrapta-focused stuff, then got into Hordak-focused stuff, mostly non-romantic. I used to see a lot of stuff by others which had both Catradora and Entrapdak in them seamlessly, even if one pair was focused on more than the other. And...cute double-date comics and such.  Earlier fandom, pre Season 5 and just post Season 5′s original airdates.  It seems like more recently, in the last year or so, I run into more stories on the Entrapdak end of things that has Catradora breakup and “Catra is held accountable” vs. Hordak being reconciled.  They’re never particularly vengeful, they aren’t written as hatefics or anything, there is always a vibe that Catra will go off and eventually heal - a sort of “Catra doesn’t get the girl, she gets therapy” thing to them.  Or prison - with therapy - or just wanders off and is never seen again, as the case may be. Still pretty hard, though.  I understand these stories as filling a need for authors and readers, those who think that some of Spop’s arcs were handled poorly at the end and maybe especially for people who feel like they’ve “had a Catra” in their lives (negative connotation).  At the same time, I find some of this bent in fanfiction a little jarring?  What I mean by this is... I honestly wonder how many Entrapdak-subfandom fans are also fans of Bojack Horseman because I get a lot of Bojack-vibes from some of the more serious-bent / darker than canon fanfiction of recent vintage. Particularly, it feels like, in some works, Adora essentially gives Catra the speech that Herb Kazazz gives Bojack regarding the nature of (un)forgiveness.  It is not that it doesn’t have it’s place, but it feels a little weird sometimes when paired with something which has a canon of “The Power of Love Saves All.”  I am by no means telling anyone how to write their fanfiction.  Prime knows that I write the darkest, bloodiest, weirdest shit sometimes for bright and sparkly canons, She-Ra included and I do like to read a variety of fanfiction... I’m just noticing something I’ve seen a lot.  Maybe I’m missing some of the lighthearted “double date” stuff. 

#spop #hordak #entrapta #catra #adora #entrapdak #catradora #fanfiction #spop fanfiction #writing about fanfiction writing #fandom

[kazuhasmaid]

Would you do that calling S/O by a different name prank? They are so cruel and should never be done to anyone in irl, but in fics they’re super cute!! Maybe with Zhongli, Tohma, Diluc? Or just one of them 💗💗

Hope this was the right place to ask, pretty new to tumblr and I saw you say to request in asks so 😅

calling him by the wrong name

zhongli, thoma, diluc x reader

word count: 1478

warnings/sidenotes: prank gone wrong, angst, insecurity, questioning, trust issues, slight story, ooc, overthinking, assumption, spoilers, pet names, comfort, lowercase intended and as always- these are never proofread.

a/n: i agree! this shouldn't be done to anyone, it can potentially create a foundation of distrust. it's very risky! ಥ‿ಥ i wonder how many couples have actually gone through pranks like this just for it to end just as fast they started to prank them..

lumine and hu tao told you about the latest couple prank going on, no one knows where it started from but said to stir up some reaction from their significant other, oh how dare you try it.

Zhongli

at the book store, with your significant other, your arms laced together, a book catches your attention and deciding to skim through its content to see if its to your liking, unhooking your arms from zhongli, you realize that you can't reach the book you were eyeing.

"childe can you please come help me reach this book?"

oh.

childe?

that's... not his name.

oh, maybe you're just tired, but he surely heard it right.

zhongli's very understandable that you and the harbinger are close, but... to the point of calling him childe? he trusts you very much but he can't help but feel concerned whether you truly thought you mistook him for childe, maybe it's the spur of your tongue or just tiredness.

"darling, you just called me childe, i see no signs of him anywhere near this store.." his eyebrows expresses worry as he once again glances around to solidify his statement.

"oh did i? i dont think so.. i called you by your name though."

"..im afraid i did hear it right, dearest." he sighs, not stepping further or near from where he was.

deciding that the tension was arising and questions in his head may begin to pop up, you decide to break the news to him.

you hug zhongli and look up at him, "im sorry, it was just a trending prank where you call your significant other by a different name and I shouldn't have taken it up, its a very dangerous prank too and i realize just how much im risking by pulling this off and i regret it, im so sorry again zhongli.."

"oh dear, you did scare me for a moment, my trust didn't waver but it was on the edge of questioning you if you had not decided to tell me that this was a prank" his arms wrap around you, looking down to you. he's just glad everything turned out to be a prank.

you still felt bad though, you realize he trust you so much and you'll have to make it up to him, you literally spoil him with affection and maybe even bought every book in his arm that probably cost 3 months worth of your salary but hey! nothing like his smile is just as priceless.

Thoma

in the komore teahouse, you stop by with your boyfriend thoma, after an afternoon filled with an adventurous date with him, deciding that you two will settle for a good dinner to end today's date was the way to go. you spot the teahouse's dog, taroumaru, looking mightily cute as ever.

you sigh, "why can't i take home taroumaru, JUST ONCE AYATO! i think im pretty good at taking care of animals dont you think?"

thoma walks behind you and into the back of taroumaru's reception desk.

he takes five seconds until hes back out again, this time, looking at you,

"babe, ayato's not here." he looks at you as if he's trying to piece all what's going on around him

"huh? yeah i know! why are you bringing him up?" you grab one of the menus from the desk,

"...no i meant, you called me ayato."

"no i didnt."

"yes you did! ask taroumaru!"

you look over to taroumaru, knowing how this was gonna go, accepting the cue to put a stop to this prank. "taroumaru, did i really?"

taroumaru barks in response.

"SEE??? so babe why did you call me ayato? didn't know you guys were that close for me to be mistook.."

"oh thoma." you approach him, letting your arms wrap your neck and telling him your apologies and the reason how this all started, the poor man was beginning to be anxious just from this prank.

he eventually returned the hug while he began to go on how reckless you were for pulling something off like that, he would never dare pull off anything to make you question your relationship, so taking back revenge was off the table, he loves you too much to even pull off something that can start an unwanted tension.

that night, it was filled with laughter, complaints about your prank, and lots of comfort you provided to reassure thoma that he's the only one you love and see this way.

Diluc

taking work off early, you come home to diluc who's as tired as you are, both busybodies of mondstat, you both couldn't wait to indulge in one another's arms.

"kaeya, did you see my bag with me when i came home? I can't remember if i took it home with me, left it or missing it."

ah.

uh-oh. you've strucked something.

diluc the ever untouchable uncrowned king of mondstat, was in awe of what just occured.

the name of another man leaving your mouth seemed to leave a bitter taste from his.

"love, i did see your bag with you so do not fret, but.. you called me kaeya. please do enlighten me."

diluc, who's been alone these years in regret of how things came to be, was at his state where questions popped in his mind, did that really just happened? so you mistook him? you really that close to kaeya? did he look alike kaeya somehow? what caused you to mistook him? was something going on? between the two of you? behind his back? and if so, since when? and why?

you were the only one who's made him feel love, the one who made him feel that he was not alone, the one who made him realize that it's okay not to be okay, the one who made him know that he's loved and cared for, though he knows he's overthinking right now, he couldn't help but jump to the conclusions of what's about to come or what has happened behind his back. fear. fear of losing you. fear of losing you, let alone to someone else he cares about too, his adoptive brother, kaeya.

diluc doesn't mean to overthink but the slightest incident can make him overthink and overanalyze this situation. realizing that this has gone too far though it has not shown, but his lack of attention towards you was the sign that you've gone far enough with this little prank of yours. you didn't need to see more, you knew diluc.

you frown to see him like this, you approach him, "apologies diluc, i indulged myself into a prank going around tevyat, and should have thought more about the consequences something like this would being, im an idiot for being curious like this when i know that i can't dare to put our relationship on the line with a prank as this. i truly apologize. i truly do. and i just want you to know, that i love you and no one else, that's all. im sorry once again. though sorry will not being back anything ive just pulled, i promise to continue showing to you just how i have eyes only for you and my heart to only love you and you only."

and with this, you see a tear falling from his right eye, he lets out a relieved sigh as he places his head on your shoulder, diluc shows his vulnerability to you and you only, the one he confides in, you wrap your arms around him to whisper comfort into his ears, no words from him were needed as you realize that a prank as "little" as this can be the wreckage no one would have thought at first glance.

the night was filled with cuddles, snuggling diluc, whispering sweet nothings as you both reconcile from this incident, continuing to keep watch over him till he gets his rest, kisses were made, words were said, tears were wiped but your hearts never stopped beating for each other. trust faltered for a second and any second longer would have turned out for the worst.

you were sure to note to write back to lumine and hu tao how this prank was dangerous and that you will not indulge into one of their pranks anytime sooner or ever, in fact. never once again will you put diluc's trust on the line again.

©kazuhasmaid please do not copy, paste or repost. plagiarizing or republishing in a different language will not be tolerated.

#genshin #genshinimpact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin oneshots #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact oneshots #genshin angst #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #thoma x reader #thoma x you #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc headcanons #thoma headcanons #zhongli headcanons #angst #kazuha #childe #albedo #itto #ayato #kaeya #lumine #hu tao #fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[tlbodine]

Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway. 

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”? 

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere. 

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore): 

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing. 

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy: 

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe): 

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it. 

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction? 

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism. 

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them. 

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed. 

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?” 

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with: 

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer 

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed 

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity. 

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire. 

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes. 

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them. 

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense. 

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre. 

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons: 

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education 

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it). 

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work. 

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable 

How do tropes get made? 

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope. 

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow. 

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling. 

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers. 

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction? 

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. 

A Final Note 

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom. 

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable. 

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

#writing #literary fiction #genre fiction #on writing #long post

[lemonsandstrawberries]

I was First

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU

summary: It is Tony's 50th birthday and while Tony doesn't have any expectations, Steve wants to celebrate early.

length: 1 480

a/n:  Happy Birthday, Tony Stark! Endgame, what? Don't know her. And Tony has the best butt in MCU, don’t even get me started on it! Hope you will like the fic and as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

I was First

"Hey, babe... Babe? Tony? Hey, Tony. Babe. Babe. Babebabebabebabebabebabe-"

Tony pulled his eyebrows together, the annoying sound getting to him through his sleep. It was like someone had been relentlessly poking on his skull, every syllable drilling into his mind. Groggily, he forced his eyes to open, blinking in the dim glow of the night lamp.

"Wha - Steve?" Tony croaked out, wrapped in the covers up to his waist and comfortably smushed, belly first, in the soft mattress on his and Steve's marital bed. With some effort, Tony lifted himself on his elbows, turning his head to the side, trying to locate his husband. "Steve, what the heck-" he complained, finally finding his husband, sitting at his side and smiling too brightly for no apparent reason.

Tony didn't know that someone could smile so much, but somehow Steve did it, adding a lot more enthusiasm into his already perky self and looking elated with Tony being awake.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Steve said in a cheery voice, leaning in closer and pecking Tony's cheek in a tender kiss.

Birthday?

The annoyed feeling from being woken up got replaced by something warmer and fuzzy. Well, that was cute. Annoying to be woken up, but cute to receive birthday wishes from his husband as the first person.

"Aw, thanks, Ste-," Tony didn't finish when he noticed the numbers displayed on the digital clock.

12:01 am. AM. As at midnight. Not noon.

And the annoyed feeling was back.

"Steve!" Tony scolded, not believing that his husband woke him up, barely an hour after Tony managed to fall asleep. That was just cruel. "God! You couldn't wait until morning?!" Tony hissed, wrenching the pillow from underneath his face and covering his head with, wanting to fall back to sleep in comfortable darkness.

"I wanted to be the first to wish you happy birthday," Steve said and Tony didn't need to look to know that his husband jutted his lip forward in a sorry pout, that made him look extra adorable. "I bet your social media is already flooded with wishes!"

Tony groaned from underneath the pillow. Maybe. His birth date was there in the open, for everyone to see and Iron Man had quite a fanbase. It was cute that people cared, but at the same time, it could get a bit overwhelming. This year, Tony didn't plan anything special on his birthday, seeing that he was turning -

"Any ideas what you want to do on your 50th birthday?" Steve asked in a happy voice, the mattress dipping under his weight as he plopped down on his side, next to Tony.

Tony just groaned again, only wanting to sleep. Why his husband couldn't get a hint.

"On my 100th birthday we went to Disneyland for a week, do you remember it, Tony?" Steve continued to chat, not bothered by his husband's attempt to shield himself. "Remember that teacup ride? They should put warnings on those things, I almost puked on your shoes once we were off."

Tony remembered that Disney trip and how happy Steve had been, just grinning and skipping in joy like a child, even if the first ride almost made him vomit. Some pretzels and a cup of water later, Steve had been good to go, choosing more and more daring rides. It was a great trip.

"Sooo... Any wishes for your birthday?" Steve asked in a low whisper, and Tony felt light fingers brushing against his shoulder. It was nice and caused a shiver to travel up his bare back.

"A slide and a ball pit," Tony muttered out, not thinking it through, just hoping that coming up with something ridiculous would make Steve leave him alone and let him sleep.

"That could be arranged," Steve laughed and Tony just groaned. He didn't have the mind power to discuss his birthday. "Alright, I will let you go back to sleep," Steve said generously and shifted on the bed, probably reaching his hand to turn the night lamp off. "Just to be clear - the official version is that I was the first one to wish you a happy birthday, right?"

"Right," Tony croaked out, his body really wanting to get back to sleep.

"Great," Steve said, again in that cheery voice, and for a second Tony had doubts if he would get any sleep if Steve showed that level of enthusiasm, "go back to sleep, babe," he added in a softer voice, pulling the covers up Tony's back, wrapping him in warmth.

"Mhhhm," Tony hummed gratefully, his eyes already closed. Sleep.

Instead of laying still and joining his husband for the night, Steve fidgeted on the bed. "Isn't there a custom that you should get your ass spanked on your birthday, one slap for each year?" Steve asked, and Tony wasn't sure anymore if he was thinking out loud or talking to him. "I think there is. We should do it now. Fifty slaps!"

Tony didn't expect to have his ass swatted, and his body jumped after the first slap, luckily, it was the gentle kind of a swat. More like a pat, really, just with enough force to let him feel it, but not to hurt or leave a bruise. Quite nice.

And that's how Tony fell to sleep, listening to Steve counting the fifty slaps at his ass, and vaguely aware that at some point, Steve played his butt cheeks like bongos, quietly singing 'happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday my husband, happy birthday to you.'

When morning finally came, Tony stretched in bed, slowly wakening up. He was alone in the bedroom, and rolled on his side, reaching for his phone and smiling when he noticed the hour.

9:30 am.

A much better hour to wake up to.

And seemed that Steve was right, and his phone did blow up with notifications overnight, starting from text messages from Rhodey and Pepper and ending on social media posts from people all over the world. Out of curiosity, Tony opened his twitter and skimmed through his wall, smiling at each message, until he got to that one post, with the highest amount of likes and retweets, already trending.

Post made by SteveSR_CaptainAmerica. Official account.

It was a photo of Tony and Steve. Both were in bed, Tony flat on his stomach, wrapped in covers, Steve grinning at the camera and holding the digital clock they kept on their nightstand. The displayed hour was 12:36 am.

'I was first. Happy Birthday to the love of my life!' A simple caption and a bunch of grinning emojis and birthday related ones. And the hashtags went on and on and the more Tony read, the more mortified he was.

#happybirthdaytonystark, #happybirthdayironman, #happybirthdaytomyhusband, #FIRST, #lookatthatbutt #ONLYLOOK, #canttouchthis, #mine, #bestbuttintheworld, #stillsmokingat50, #captainamericasfavoriteass

Tony felt a lot more awake and paid closer attention to the photo. While Steve was on the foreground and there was no doubt that it was him, there was no real proof that the man wrapped in the covers was Tony. Well, Tony knew it was him, but it couldn't be so obvious to others. Maybe his sleep ruffled hair was a hint, sticking out from underneath the pillow, or the visible wedding ring on his finger for people who would zoom in, but the most obvious indication was right in the middle of the photo, covered with the thin sheets, but still sticking out enough to be recognizable.

#lookatthatduckbutt, #duckybutt, #ducky, #quackquack

Tony felt embarrassed. Somehow humiliated. Just at the same time, it was so damn funny, he started laughing, just to himself, while alone in the bed. So the Happy Birthday concert Steve had played on his butt during the night was just the tip of madness.

"Happy birthday, boss!"

"Thanks, Friday," Tony smiled, laying in bed, happy and content. "Where is Steve?"

"Captain is during a meeting in the conference room. He told me to give you a message that he will be back after 10 am."

"Hmmm, okay," Tony hummed, working his phone with quick fingers. Aaaand retweet. Tony put the phone away and curled underneath the covers, feeling that he could enjoy some peace and quiet in bed, before Steve would come back and Tony would have to start his day for good. "Please make sure that Steve checks his twitter account."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Thanks," Tony yawned and pulled the covers more over himself, imagining the hubbub his and Steve's exchange would cause, but that would be something for the PR team to take care of and Tony didn’t feel like being bothered, especially on his birthday. To his account, Tony retweet Steve's post, adding comments of his own.

'I confirm it, Steve was first. Thank you all for birthday wishes!' #happybdaytome, #stevecalmyoselfgddamit, #nextime, #stickaflaginit, #andclaimitforamerica #loveyouhusbanddontkillme

Somehow, Tony could hear Steve laughing all the way from the conference room.

-------

Tony wanting a slide and ball pit was inspired by the fact that RDJ had a slide and ball pit on his 50th birthday party

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #stevetony #happy birthday tony stark #tony has the best butt in the mcu #fluff #humor #humor and fluff #domestic #domestic fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

[ryqoshay]

For the fic ask: 4 and/or 18

4. Favorite story you’ve ever written?

That’s... honestly a harder question than I thought it would be when first skimming the list. I’ve loved many of my stories for very different reasons. Sometimes it is because how much fun I had writing it, while others it is because it was more difficult. Sometimes it is because I got a lot of reader interaction, while other times it was just one really good comment or tag. And many, many times, it was the amount of self-indulgence I put into something; spending way too much time naming someone or something, scouring thesaurus.com for the perfect word to complete some alliteration, or hiding some sort of Easter egg, even if I know most readers will never find it.

Also, the little lawyer in the back of my mind wants to discuss the definition of story. If we are talking about full entries over on AO3, HtHaN is a fairly clear winner, as one need look no further than its word count compared to my other works. I’ve spent a heck of a lot more time writing and even just thinking about HtHaN than any other work I’ve produced. I think it even surpassed my D&D stuff a while back.

However, I define HtHaN - and most of my other works on AO3 - as a collection of short stories/arcs. Thus, I should probably look to pick a single chapter.

And with a quick scan through the list of chapters, one very quickly stood out. I was thinking I may have to scan the chapter lists of my other fics or even review some of my D&D stuff, but no, it very much is that one chapter. Maybe it was easier to choose than I thought.

Jizenka

This will probably end up pretty long, so the rest is going under the cut.

First and foremost, Jizenka was among the first of my readers, and remains to this day in the top rankings for enthusiasm and encouragement. I can say with certainty that I would not be where I am as an author of LL fanfic were it not for Jizenka. HtHaN would have remained a small, questionably meme-like post among many other volleys in a meme war on a little Love Live fan site. It would have been forgotten in a few days and I would have moved on to other things.

Happy Life, HtHaM, Happy Life (AU) and Tri-Arame probably would have never even crossed my mind. Heck, in some parallel universe, there might be a version of me who left the LL fandom after the primary µ’s content had concluded - SIFAS or A Song for You! You? You!! may have brought me back - and never bothered figuring out a shipping fleet for Aqours or Niji.

Instead, something was sparked back in July of 2016 - jebas, it’s been a while - and I started my journey with LL fanfic. Whether Jizenka was the flint or the kindling or both may be up for debate, but she certainly contributed something.

And whatever that something was, it was what I wished to honor and commemorate with my HtHaN chapter, Jizenka.

I jammed a lot into that chapter. I wanted to include things I knew Jizenka had liked about NicoMaki as well as references to ongoing themes and trends that I had established in other chapters. I didn’t want it to just be a memory of Jizenka, but also something she would have enjoyed reading in its own right.

I’m pretty sure that chapter was the genesis of Egao’s Pro Bono Idoli project, even if I hadn’t named it at that point. Free concerts in a hospital and an outreach program to fledgling idol groups in the HtHaN universe came into being with that idea. And by the gods do I have notes for future stuff to write along those lines.

And finally, all authors include a bit of themselves in the works. We almost kind of have to; we can only write what we know, after all. But I think there is more of “me” in that chapter than in anything else I have ever written. I have recently claimed HtHaN 10 and Tri-Arame: RPG Night as being among my most self-indulgent works, but Jizenka may top them, though in a very different way.

So yeah, though it was quite the bittersweet experience both writing and posting that chapter, and it still stirs my emotions when I skim it or reread it in earnest, I can confidently claim it as my favorite story from among those I’ve written.

18. Favorite character to write?

Well, to refer back to HtHaN having the highest word count of any fic I’ve written, and knowing how much time and thought I’ve dedicated to its primary pairing, and continue to happily dedicate to this day, I can definitively say it’s a tie between Maki and Nico.

Yuu, Setsuna and Ayumu are currently giving Riko and Yohane some stiff competition for their place in second. YohaRiko definitely has the advantage of time, so after the “newness” of YuuAyuSetsu wears off, we’ll see where they all stand. But I’m fairly confident that NicoMaki will retain their position in first.

I’d love to claim that Ryqoshay and Yozakura are my favorites, but they’re OCs in a story that I’ve never made public and haven’t actively worked on in far too many years. Perhaps as I write another chapter or two of translating it through a game being played in Tri-Arame, I’ll rekindle something and start back up with those characters and their stories.

#Ryqo's Q&A #fic stuff

[serendipitous-magic]

Thoughts on badboy!Mike and/or stoner!Will ?

(Salient points bolded so you can skim through my ramblings)

I mean we see the seeds of punk in both of them in canon. (I mean the real canon, S1 and S2 only.) 

We saw Mike starting to have a rebellious phase in S2 (cursing out a teacher, graffitiing the bathroom stall, etc.). I could absolutely see that rebellious streak strengthening from middle school to high school (and to college depending on when this AU is set). Especially if Karen and Ted weren’t doing too well with their marriage. We see in S1 that Mike’s ideology seems to trend towards pacifism, and he seems like a bit of an idealist. He cares a lot about things being fair or right, and while He Will Fight You if they aren’t, he’s not usually one for actual violence. (See: how he verbally confronted Troy after Troy was laughing at the assembly.)

And, even though it’s not real Stranger Things, we see a little bit of how Mike has responded to trauma in S3. After everything that happened to him since the beginning of S1, in S3 we see Mike start to close himself off. His idealism from S1 has really faded, and we see that he’s a lot more cynical now, and he’s put up a lot of walls. (Acting like he’s “too cool” for whatever’s going on, for example.)

And not to quote my own fic but I’ve thought before about how Mike might very well turn into kind of an anarchist in high school...

-_-_-

Fuck it.

That’s been Mike’s primary mode of decision making in the past year.

Fuck it, fuck everything, fuck the whole world. All those angsty singers were right: society is a garbage fire, the world is broken, nothing is fair, and very few things are right. They should be. They could be. But they aren’t.

His parents mutter about phases and teenage rebellion when they think he can’t hear them over the TV. Well, if realizing that society is bullshit makes him a rebel, then fuck it. He’s a rebel.

Fuck it.

It started about a year ago.

Well, if he’s being honest, it started several years ago. The whole great mess of it. If he’s really really honest with himself - which he’d rather not be, most of the time, not about this - it started with the Upside Down. When the world turned on its head and his best friend was gone, and then dead, and then miraculously alive again, and there were monsters, and other worlds, and a girl that could do magic, and secret government agencies, and secrets upon secrets upon secrets. He was twelve years old, and the world was not the safe, stable, rules-abiding place he had always been told. And that’s where the seed was planted.

And then he was thirteen, increasingly sullen as he glared at the floor and listened to teachers and parents tell him all about how “This isn’t like you,” and “You’re smarter than this,” and, “You’ve got to shape up your act, or you’ll be facing the consequences.”

First it was graffitiing the bathroom stall, cussing out a teacher, feeling a strange flutter somewhere deep in his diaphragm when he grabbed Will’s hand that day in the Byers’ paper-strewn house.

Then he was fourteen, and it was all happening again, and he was trying so hard to do what he was supposed to do. To shape up his act. He straightened his hair, he doted on his girlfriend, he rolled his eyes at things that weren’t cool.

And then fifteen. And he hated it. All of it. He let his hair grow out shaggy and messy and curlier than ever, and those seeds planted years before came to life. He was a rebel again, and this time he refused to back down. “Shaping up” hadn’t worked, so fuck it.

It was the only thing that kept him sane as his life both fell apart thread by thread and, at the same time, settled into a suffocating, crushing normality. His sister left for college - left him alone. His parents fought more, and then less, and less was worse. Less fighting meant days-long icy silences, tension that even Holly picked up on. Bad news in the papers, on TV, in hearsay. And Mike took to burying himself in fiction to get away from it all. He carried a Sharpie marker with him and started scrawling his favorite controversial quotes in places they’d be seen. He argued with everyone, about everything. He broke up with his girlfriend, after two years of slowly realizing that romance wasn’t right for them. He got detention frequently - and then less frequently, as he learned to be stealthy. He snuck out. He went to parties with friends he had made in Drama. He ranted and vented to his best friend, and they frequently ended up on the roof outside his bedroom window, watching the stars as they talked about life, the universe, and everything. He briefly considered getting a piercing or tattoo. He bought a big, square, three-year calendar and meticulously counted down the exact number of days until graduation.

-_-_-

... all that to say, I think Mike could very well end up turning to a kind of “bad boy” persona to help cope with things, even if this is an Upside-Down-less AU and all he’s coping with is more normal teenage stuff like his parents and realizing how awful the world can be. He’s got a rebellious streak anyway, we’ve seen that he tends to put up walls and put up this kind of Cool and Distant act to cope with things, and he cares so much about fairness and justice (and the world is so unjust) that I could very easily see him eventually Fully Rebelling and lashing out at the world.

As for Will, well, I feel like the fandom has kind of collectively agreed that Will would have a punk phase. (Just me?) Partly because there’s a lot of overlap with growing up gay in the 80s. (You know - you have to have a certain mindset of “fuck you, fuck society, fuck everything, I am who I am and anyone who thinks that’s not okay can suck it.”) And (not to get on a soapbox real quick but) punk isn’t about mohawks and spiky jackets, it’s about questioning structures of power and authority and being yourself despite society telling you not to. 

I don’t have as good of an analysis for Will, and honestly @the-angry-pixie has explained this better than I could because she’s given it more thought, but can I see Will in college going kind of art-punk? I absolutely can.

As far as specifically stoner!Will when it comes to weed smoking, I don’t have as much to say. Despite living in The Weed State 🙃 (god I want to move lmao), I never really got into that, so I don’t have much to say that would actually be accurate or interesting,

However, if we’re talking stoner!Will as far as the attitude more than the actual smoking? Like, 70s-throwback “nothing matters, okay? Just chill out a little bit and paint or something, the universe is more complex than we could ever imagine and our tiny human arguments shouldn’t matter that much.” Tapestries hung up on bedroom walls, staying up late listening to music and thinking about Life, The Universe, and Everything, deep conversations with friends, making art, etc. etc...

I could be convinced.

So badboy!Mike and stoner/art-punk!Will? Good concept. And I could see this happening either post-canon or in an AU where the UD didn’t happen or where byeler doesn’t meet until college or something.

#asks #byeler #byler #mike wheeler #will byers

[thehaemanthus]

here’s the smut.

Note: Please read, but if you don’t I can’t stop you I guess. I had this idea turning over in my head because it’s a scene in a larger fic. You’ll notice that some details are not addressed. When this takes place, for example. The larger story was the AU where the end of Golden Son did not happen and Darrow became the Augustus heir. But. I felt like writing smut on Valentine’s Day. And the people demanded to read it.

So if you are confused, if you are like, “hm, what is happening, why is it this way,” that is why.

Also, it’s rushed and not Hot™ and a little throw together on a whim. So I’ll guess I’ll be back soon with some more smut. Darrow/Mustang sex demands more oral, I think.

The glow of morning filled the room like water, shimmering and thick. Nothing escaped the sun’s gentle touch, and for a breath the world was still.

Silence was shattered, though it was a welcome disturbance. Darrow watched as inches away, Mustang sighed, stretched, woke to great the new day. Half-awake and sleepy, she was uncharacteristically vulnerable and open. Not that he hadn’t seen her vulnerable before. They had held each other in their weak moments, they had put their worst fears into words and shared whispers with each other. But there was nothing quite like watching the woman he loved wake slowly, layers of armor absent.

With a sleepy noise, Mustang brushed hair from her face. She settled back into her pillow. “What time is it?”

“Still early.” Darrow reached over and tucked tendrils of hair neatly away, letting his fingers drag along the back of her neck, to her shoulder, down her arm, until her skin disappeared under the blankets.

A small quirk of her mouth was all the signal he needed. Darrow brushed his lips against her shoulder, more feeling the soft skin under his mouth and breathing in the soapy scent of her than a proper kiss. Mustang tilted her head, just a little. An invitation.

Darrow’s mouth skimmed her shoulder, dancing up her jaw until he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Mustang rolled onto her back, raising a hand to his hair and tugging.

Against her lips, he chuckled. “Yeah?”

Mustang’s mhmm  was muffled but audible. With her silent request, Darrow slowly rid her of her nightdress. Naked below him, he let his mouth and hands wander to where he knew he would get the best reaction. Not to be outdone, Mustang took the initiative to rid him of his shorts, a little more rushed than his own movements had been.

Darrow skimmed a hand up her thigh, across her stomach, lower. Body reacting eagerly—by habit at this point, really—Mustang spread her legs. Twin sighs broke the air as Darrow’s hand found her wetness. He kissed her neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Sometimes they filled the air with words, sometimes with laughter. With Mustang, Darrow learned how to be free in a way he had never quite experienced. There was a depth of emotion and connection that seemed to break him apart, no matter how many times they did this. He had loved Eo, but he had never known that he could be this entwined with another person or feel like his soul was in sync with another. But he also knew that no matter how long he knew Mustang, how much he loved her, how often he had her, there would always be times when she surprised him.

“Your mind is wandering.”

“I’m thinking of you,” Darrow nipped her neck, continuing his work. “But I suppose I’m not doing my job well enough if you can still talk.”

“Clearly.”

He heard the mirth in Mustang’s voice and couldn’t help grinning, nuzzling against her neck a little. In return, she gently scraped her nails along his scalp. “Get to work, Reaper.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Darrow loved every noise, every expression, every move that he coaxed from Mustang. Squeaks of surprise, moans of deep pleasure, giggles and heady cries. He catalogued them all. There, when he crooked his fingers inside her, her breath caught and her hips thrust. There, when her circled his thumb just so, and her hands clenched on whatever had found purchase and she made a low, pleading sound.

Sometimes he required instruction, and he was only too happy to follow her orders. Sometimes, like that morning, he gazed at her face and seemed to know exactly what to do. When Mustang’s breathing became heavy, when she gripped his arm, he worked his fingers faster and bent down to suck at her breast—and there.

Mustang was not loud, but she did not need to be. The keening noise she made as she came was enough for Darrow to know he had done his job well, along with the way she clenched around his fingers. He kept moving them, working her through until she relaxed into the bed. A gentle push on his arm, and he slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Mustang watched him. Darrow wasn’t sure if her biting her lip was unconscious or an effort to arouse him—as if he needed the assistance— but it called for retaliation. He kicked the sheets away, exposing all of her skin that he wanted to map with her mouth. He started at her breasts, and was just about to make his descent when another gentle touch stopped him.

Mustang’s next moved of flipping him over to his back was less gentle, but he didn’t mind. She straddled him, expression telling him that he would have to wait to taste her. Mustang was a woman who took what she wanted when she wanted it.

Not that Darrow was complaining. No, it was impossible to complain when his love was on top of him, sinking down on him with pupils blown black and hair mussed with sleep.

She rode him sinuously, hands spreading over his stomach, his chest, as Darrow gripped her hips. Mustang sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. Sometimes, words would spill from Darrow’s mouth, telling her all the things he loved about her and all the things he wanted to do to her and the things he would do for her. But other times, like now, all he could do was say, “I love you.”

Maybe it was that morning, maybe it was a dream, or a memory, or the day before—but something made Mustang falter. Just a second, then her hips resumed their movement. But her eyes were slightly narrowed, and she gazed into his soul. It was not a look Darrow was accustomed to seeing on her. Her movements slowed, then stopped.

Concerned, Darrow sat up. A hand on his chest made him refrain from wrapping his arms around her and pledging to fix whatever was wrong.

Mustang had a look on her face as she stared down at him. Wondering, a little worried, a little shell-shocked. When she leaned close and closed her eyes, he met her for a kiss. It was not hesitant. But something in the way she held his face was.

Slowly, as if afraid of breaking the silence, Mustang rose. She turned, keeping one hand on Darrow to bring him down with her as she lay on her back.

Darrow felt comfortable in saying that they were both generous lovers, giving more to the other and asking for nothing in return. Giving pleasure was just as satisfying as receiving. But, well, there was a trend. Mustang liked to take her pleasure, liked the control of it. She was not shy about asking for what she wanted, though by now she rarely needed to.

Of course, their couplings had taken multiple forms. Once Mustang wrung herself out, Darrow enjoyed seeing how much farther he could push her, how many more times her could make her come. But—speaking frankly—it was rare for her to start out laid out before him.

Nevertheless, Darrow followed her silent request. Something told him to be slow, to act as cautious as the woman beneath him was. Still, his first thrust into her made him groan and close his eyes. He waited a beat for control, and then started a deep, slow rhythm. A moment later, Mustang’s body joined the dance.

“What do you need?” Darrow’s lips brushed her ear. He adjusted to support himself with one arm, the other hand slowly working its way down her body. Mustang reached down to stop it, bring his hand back up. They maneuvered, fumbling without words, until he was supported on his elbows and her arms were wrapped around his torso and they were entwined and pressed so close together that Darrow almost lost control there.

Close. They were so close. And maybe that’s what Mustang needed to feel. The intimacy and truth that two bodies could not hide.

Darrow started moving again, and this time there was no avoiding the drag of Mustang’s breasts against his chest, his pelvis on her clit, stomachs sliding together, breaths shared in the rapidly lightening room. Her skin glowed in the golden light.

He kept his pace slow, making her feel every movement he made, thinking about how much he loved her and what he would do for her—trying to put an emotion that was unspeakable into the thrusts of his body.

“Darrow,” her voice was a whisper.

His nose skimmed her jaw as he raised his head, pausing again. And again, that look on her face.

“Darrow,” she said again. “Say my name.”

His brow furrowed. Had he done something wrong? Did she think he had been thinking of some other time, of a dead woman? His heart froze and broke, shattered at the thought that Mustang could have ever doubted his love.

But no. The way she had said it, the emphasis on the words. Say my name. Not Mustang.

“Virginia,” he rasped, watching her face. She closed her eyes, something between pleasure and pain gracing her face. A thrust of her hips prompted him to resume, join her rhythm. “Virginia,” he said again, accompanied by a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Darrow faltered yet again when his lips met a tear falling down her temple. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, sensing his hesitation.

Darrow always did what she asked, so he dove in with more enthusiasm. He repeated her name, as if he could brand it and everything he adored about her into her skin. Then she would stand in front of everyone and the mark of his love would be there to protect her, though she did not need protecting. But sometimes, Mustang did need reminding.

Virginia was Mustang, was Augustus, was the woman he loved. And Darrow would never reduce her to anything less.

“Darrow,” she said, gripping him tight. He sped up just a little. He wanted to be sure the only thing she could feel was him.

“Virginia,” he groaned it into her ear. “Virginia.” He moaned as she cried out, more vocal and wild than he had ever seen her.

Though her hips bucked under him, Darrow kept up his steady pace. Mustang made no effort to quiet the high-pitched gasps and choked-off moans and sounds that sounded like sobs. Her nails scratched, his hips bucked.

Darrow kissed her deeply, messy with tongue and clashing teeth and all the feelings they could not say out loud, not then. His rough hand scraped down her side, and this time she let him wedge his fingers between them, bringing her to the end.

Head throw back, mouth wide open with cries spilling out unheeded, Mustang clenched around him. Darrow watched as pleasure overtook her face, different from the desperation a moment ago. He kept his fingers moving, though he exerted considerable control in trying not to move his hips, least he finish too soon.

But as well as he knew Mustang, she also knew him. With a smile that betrayed none of the angst from earlier, Mustang ran her hands through Darrow’s hair, tugging gently. “Come on, Darrow. Let go.”

At first he returned to that steady deep pace, but her gentle hum and touches and encouragement made Darrow lose his mind. Mustang prodded him along until he was taking his pleasure, roughly thrusting between legs that were spread open for him.

His mouth started to spill all the endearments and nonsensical words that filled his head when he was in her, when she surrounded him and consumed him. Darrow was too far gone to know if they made sense.

“Darrow,” Mustang said, holding him close. “I don’t need words to know how you love me.”

That undid him. He buried his head in her neck, howling his pleasure as he spilled inside her, and he did not relinquish his hold until Mustang asked him to.

Sometimes Darrow knew exactly what to expect in their bed, and sometimes he was surprised by it. It had only recently dawned on him, what an entire lifetime with her would mean—and not a short Red lifetime, but decades to grow and change together. Every day he felt like he made a new discovery, had a small realization. Mustang would never stop surprising him—in ways that were good and bad and, sometimes, altogether unable to be categorized or explained. But it was all her, it was them. Sometimes, Darrow marveled at that love.

[krazy-rp-hatter]

1, 2, 3, 9, 14, 15, 17, 25, 27, 28, 29, 35 for the honesty meme? (I want to hear your take on these!)

Honesty Meme | Accepting

1. What would prevent you from following someone?

Mostly it depends on if I want to interact with their muse or not. There are some where I just really don’t like the muse. Other things that stop me are when there are maybe two or three blogs that are so exclusive with each other that you feel like you can’t interact with them. Sometimes if people post constantly post A LOT I can get overwhelmed, and that might stop me on the odd occasion. And, of course, if someone is just generally being a dick.

2. Are aesthetics important to you? If they are, why?

Yes! I’m a graphic designer, and I’ve always loved things looking pretty. So I love making a blog look as gorgeous as possible. And I love finding aesthetic images that give you an idea of what the muse is like.

Though, when it comes to text, the aesthetic is also important in the way of, I like to be as straight forward as possible. Since I’m ADHD and dyslexic, sometimes reading can just truly be a nightmare. So when things are in super tiny, scripty font, constantly changing from one word to the next with words broken up by symbols that shouldn’t be there, my brain just goes ‘NOPE! I ain’t doing this shit!’

3. What current rp trend do you hate?

Honestly, not a fan of some of the formatting. When people make it vary constantly my brain hates it. And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. ‘I hat/e peo.ple do/ing t.his thi/ng no.w!’ It’s just… it’s hard for me to read, and that makes me not want to try.

9. What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?

No and no! I’m honestly not a fan of it. I understand why people do it, especially if they are a very popular blog. But it’s not for me. I kinda get put off from interacting with blogs that are mutually exclusive, because I can’t always find an opening to interact with them. And I think that if you limit who you RP with, you’re missing out on a lot of opportunities. I also love interacting with multiple of the same muse. Most people bring their own spin to a muse, and I love seeing how things play out with each different mun.

14. Do you think rp has had a positive or negative effect on your life or you as a person?

I mean, I’d say fairly neutral. It’s something fun that I enjoy doing, and I love getting to interact with so many people. But on the flip side, it does take a lot of energy and also tends to take away from my novel and fic writing. I struggle to find balance in a lot of things, so I tend to find I kind of go hardcore on RP, then burn out and take a year or two hiatus and get sad because most of the people I know are gone. (Except @cfmanymuses. She’s my forever girl, and as my IRL best friend, I know she’ll tell me if she ever switches platforms).

15. How has rp changed you personally?

I mean, I honestly don’t know. I’d say that it’s helped improve my writing over the years and given me a new, unique way of looking at things when it comes to writing because of the format it’s usually done it. It’s also helped me develop a few of my OCs from what they started as, and I LOVE working with my characters.

17. Have you ever sent a message to yourself on anon? Why?

Admittedly, I have sent myself memes on anon that I REALLY wanted to do when no one sends them in before. I haven’t done this in a while, but there are some that have been tempting. I wanna answer those questions, dude!

25. Are you open to duplicates? Why / why not?

Hell yeah! Bring on the duplicates!!! I mean, MOST of my muses are OC, so duplicates aren’t going to happen there. But all of my canon muses are from fantasy or sci-fi and are super easy to make bump into each other via alturnate universes. Or heck, they could be twin sisters! I love seeing how other people write the same muses as me, because everyone’s take on muses is unique and I feel like I’m missing out on getting to work with that if you deny duplicates.

27. Do you follow people even if they don’t follow you back?

Yeah, I mean, why not. On the odd occasion, someone might follow me back a month after I’ve followed them or something. The only time I’d unfollow someone for not following me back is if they’re mutually exclusive and I keep accidentally liking their starter calls and such. I have mutual tracker, but sometimes my brain jumps ahead and goes ‘Yeah! I wanna RP with them’. And then I feel like a twat for accidentally breaking their rules and have to apologise. So if someone is adherently mutuals only I might unfollow to prevent making an ass of myself repeatedly.

Plus, I had a really bad experience with this once where despite instantly apologising and saying I wouldn’t do it again, someone continued to harras me to the point I had to block them and ended up taking a year-long hiatus.

28. Do you read people’s rules before following or interacting?

I generally try to. Some, I will follow the moment I see their blog, then have to go back and find their blog to read their rules. And sometimes the ADHD/dyslexia is being a butt and basically makes my brain scream at me if I try to read anything longer than a sentence, so I’ll kinda skim over the rules as best I can.

But I try to read peoples rules as much as I possibly can, especially since it gives me a good view of their stance on certain things. Sometimes I forget if I’ve read them or not and go back and do it again.

29. What is your opinion on “reblog karma” and do you practice it?

Yep! I’ve only recently come back to this blog, and reblog karma was pretty big last time I was on. I’m trying to get back into the habit of the lastest trend of reblogging from the source, but sometimes I mess up. When I do that, I try my hardest to make sure I send something.

35. Do you read other people’s threads or do you only read your own?

Mostly no. As I said, sometimes reading is not a thing my brain wants to do. I’ll usually glance or skim other threads, but unless something really grabs my attention, I won’t put too much effort into reading through others threads. The shorter the thread, the more likely I am to read it. (So, basically, if I wasn’t invested in my own writing, I’d probably skip it because I very rarely write short replies).

#cfmanymuses #Answered by: Kyla

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Keep Your Pants On

Summary: Watching the ‘wacky skeleton’ antics is a time-honored tradition for Monsters. There are a few subtle differences now that they are on the surface, but hey, some things never change. 

Notes: I don’t even remember the last time I giggled so hard writing a story. 

Also on AO3

By Any Other Name Masterlist

~~*~~

It was only in the middle of the morning when Edge got an unexpected text from his brother. He picked up his phone curiously, reading the message with a frown.

you might want to come out here

With wary interest, he did. His office was on the third floor which was generally reserved only for those who worked for the Embassy. Jeff would likely never know it, but Edge had been the one who requested special permissions attached to his clearance to allow for him to pass through security, in case of an emergency.

Other Monsters were coming out of their offices, all wearing looks of curiosity. This did not bode well, what had his brother done…

The elevator door opened with a quiet ding and most of the third floor of the Embassy was treated to the sight of Stretch storming off it, dressed only in a long white sheet wrapped around him like a toga.

Ah.

The security guard barely glanced up from his magazine, “Hey, Stretch, nice sheet.”

“fuck off,” he snapped back. All the other Monsters stepped back as he stomped through towards Edge. His eye lights were snapping orange, his cheek bones hectically flushed the same shade. He was visibly livid.

He was gorgeous.

Edge waited patiently while Stretch stalked up to him, tamping down his sudden surge of arousal. That would have to wait.

Stretch stopped in front of him, breathing hard, and snarled out, “where the fuck are all my clothes?”

“Hello, love,” Edge said calmly. “Did you need something?”

“…don’t. don’t you even!” He scrambled to hold out a crumpled piece of paper…where had he even put that? It wasn’t worth considering. Edge took it and skimmed it. Not that he didn’t know what it said, his own neat handwriting on the page.

“Hmm,” Edge considered, “It says here that you’ve lost all your clothing privileges until you can dress like an adult again.”

“i can read, you prick!” Stretch glared at him furiously. His magic was glowing in his joints, snapping at his fingertips, and Edge automatically braced himself. Not that Stretch would hurt him, not on purpose, but it paid to be cautious. “what the fuck are you trying to pull!”

“Perhaps I’m trying to make it so I don’t get stared down on the sidewalk when we’re in public together?” Edge asked archly and Stretch sputtered, seething.

To be fair, Edge had started it although he liked to think he’d been driven to it. It was all because of Stretch‘s fondness of atrocious t-shirts. If it had terrible word play or an advertisement for some absurd, horrible product that no one would ever want, then Stretch needed to own it. Generally, they were covered by his sweatshirt, but this past week had been unseasonably hot and Edge had been treated daily to an endless array of the wretched things.

By the end of the week, he had simply been tired of seeing them and he’d asked Stretch, perhaps a little snarkier than necessary, if he’d signed some kind of contract that only allowed him to wear the ugliest t-shirts possible and if so, he should offer a refund.

He should have known better. Stretch seemed to take it as a personal challenge. Suddenly, he was wearing a different shirt every hour, each one more horrid than the last. When the weather cooled, he wore one of the damn things over his sweatshirt. He knotted them together to wear as a kilt instead of his normal track pants. The final straw had been when Edge had opened the curtain for his morning shower and found one hanging in the stall that had on it a picture of Stretch wearing yet another t-shirt with a picture of himself on it, and again, on to infinity.

It was entirely possible he’d snapped at that point.

“you emptied the entire closet!” Stretch screeched. He had. It had taken most of the night and it had been oh, so worth the effort.

“And you wore one of our Egyptian cotton sheets on the bus,” Edge pointed out, idly, “At least stop dragging it on the ground.”

“you even took the socks! and shoes!” Somehow, his growing indignation only made him more appealing. “i was barefoot on the fucking bus, they almost didn’t let me on!”

“Interesting, I would have thought the sheet would have been more of a deterrent,” Edge mused.

“i am not leaving without pants, i swear to fucking hell, edge, you—”

His ranting took a backseat to a sudden wolf whistle that rang over the office and it was that whistle that made Edge abruptly realize Stretch was gradually losing his tenuous grip on the sheet. It had already slid halfway down his spine at the back. Who the fuck…the smirk dropped off Edge's face like a falling stone and lacking any one person, he glared at the collection of people around them.

All of whom were watching with richly interested expressions as Stretch ranted and gestured with his free hand while the sheet steadily crept lower.

“Don't you people have work to do?" Edge snapped, agitated. A low murmur of denials was all he got for his troubles.

Oh, for…roughly, Edge stripped off his suit jacket and tried to sling it over Stretch’s shoulders, only to have it furiously shrugged away, “don’t, don’t you even—”

“Why don’t we discuss this in my office,” Edge said through gritted teeth. His amusement at the situation had faded the second it had gone from slapstick to burlesque.

Somehow, the sparkling orange in Stretch’s eye lights grew furiously brighter, “listen, asshole, i rode the bus in a fucking sheet, you will get me pants and you will get them now! i am trending on twitter, do you hear me? i have zero fucks left to give! i want pants if you have to peel them off fucking asgore!”

"I will give you my pants if you will just come with me!” Edge snapped, a little desperately because that sheet was growing more precarious by the moment and he was not enjoying the array of eyes lingering on his increasingly naked husband in the slightest.

To his surprise, Stretch stopped and gave him a thin smile, hitching his sheet up a couple of inches. “fine. hand them over.”

Edge blinked, replaying the words in his head, and realization hit. “I meant that I would give them to you in my office.”

Stretch’s smile was reminiscent of one of Red’s, sharp and spiteful, “hand. them. over.”

Well. This little prank had taken a particularly unpleasant turn. At this point, people were coming up from other floors to watch the commotion, so either they followed Stretch on twitter or people were sending texts, which they certainly could because every Monster there seemed to have their cell phone out, likely recording this for later enjoyment. Half of them were calmly sipping coffee, enjoying this unexpected mid-morning show.

For all that strategy was usually Edge’s greatest strength, it was currently failing him. What he did know was that he wasn’t about to take his pants off because he didn’t wear anything beneath his damn pants, something that Stretch knew all too well.

“I am not taking my pants off in this hallway,” Edge gritted out.

“well, i’m not wearing anything under this sheet, so make your choice,” Stretch hissed. He loosened his grip, letting it slide back down and the intrigued murmur that ran through the crowd was making fond thoughts of murder percolate in Edge’s skull.

Edge sighed inwardly. He was going to be paying for this for a very long time, but options were limited, and he made his choice.  

Quickly, he caught up the end of the sheet and wrapped it around Stretch’s upper torso, pinning his arms before he could do more than yelp a protest. Then he ducked down enough to swing him over his shoulder and carried him briskly down the hall. It worked, but the effect that came from it was exactly as he expected.

“put me down!” Stretch howled, squirming against the dual constrictions of the sheet and Edge’s arm around his waist. “put me down, you asshole!”

Since he doubted at this point that he could make things worse, Edge gave Stretch a pointed slap on the pelvis, “Stop squirming, you’re going to make me drop you.”

It was the opposite of helpful as not only did his squirming increase, so did his volume. Edge winced at a particularly violent suggestion for his various orifices. That was certainly…creative.

If this ended up on Youtube he was going to rip out someone’s spine. Probably his own brother’s.

At the end of the hallway, Janice was holding open the door to his office helpfully and Edge muttered a thank you that she couldn’t have heard over Stretch’s angry curses.

Not that her smirk really deserved one.

He kicked the door shut behind him before lowering his squirming bundle to the floor and wincing as a spastic flail caught him across the face. A small price to pay to see Stretch emerging from his cotton prison, as puffed up and angry as a wet cat.

Before he could spit out a word, Edge had already skimmed off his trousers and tossed them into his face. “Pants. As requested.”

His indignation deflated a little with the demanded item in hand, fingering the fine material. Without an audience, his temper was cooling quickly. Stretch never had been able to stay angry for long. “i don’t even want your pants, i wanted my own,” Stretch muttered.

“Well, I didn’t bring them downtown,” Edge said archly. Stretch looked up at him, his eye lights flicking down his body, and Edge stood straight and let him. Yes, he likely looked a bit ridiculous without his trousers in a full suit that included his socks, but it was certainly better than looking like this in front of the entire office.

The anger had faded from Stretch’s eye lights, replaced by disbelief, “are you actually turned on?”

“Yes,” Edge admitted. It wasn’t as if he could deny it without his pants acting as a barrier. Between Stretch’s glorious temper tantrum and his delightful squirming, Edge didn’t have much motive to resist.

“pervert.” But the gleam in Stretch’s eye lights told him he didn’t mind.

Smirking, Edge reached behind him and flicked the lock on the door. They may as well indulge in the very thing that the entire Embassy was likely gossiping they were doing. The pants were tossed aside as Edge pushed Stretch to the ground, and put his foul mouth to better use.

Later, they were both tangled in the sheet when Edge picked up his phone, scrolling through the variety of messages. One from Red caught his attention and he read it silently.

there's bets going on. odds are 2 to 1 that you’re having sex. fifty to one that stretch outright murders you. what are we looking at paying out on?

Edge considered, then typed back, How much if I murdered him?

please. no bet, no one is stupid enough to lose money on you laying a rough finger on him, much less hurting him.

Irrationally pleased, Edge sent back, pay out 2 to 1, and settled back against the sofa arm, resting his cheekbone against the top of Stretch’s skull.  He had meetings in less than an hour, a stack of paperwork to finish, and a secretary who surely knew what was going on behind his closed door.

Eventually, he’d work up the energy to care.

Next to him, Stretch stirred. “whatever you're planning to do to that kid who whistled at me, you can stop right there.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“yeah, right,” Stretch yawned. He sat up, groaning. “don't even try that innocent act, pal, i know you.”

Edge only hummed, trailing his fingers down the spine that had come so close to being on display for most of the Monster contingency in the Embassy. It was not a view he was particularly interested in sharing, for any reason.

Stretch sighed, leaning briefly against the pressure of his hand and then drew away, “not that this wasn’t fun, but i still don’t have any clothes.”

Reluctantly, Edge let him go. “There’s a gym bag in the closet over there, you’re welcome to whatever is in it.”

“that’ll work,” Stretch said and leaned down to peck him sweetly on the cheek bone.

Laying on the sofa, Edge watched in appreciative silence as Stretch dug through the bag and found sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, all that smooth, sleek bone disappearing beneath cotton fabric. Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice until Stretch was finished shoving his feet into a pair of tennis shoes that his mouth was curved in a malicious smirk.

Neatly, Stretch plucked up Edge’s trousers from the floor and he could only watch in horror as Stretch called cheerily over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “see you at home!”

“Wait!”

He may as well have saved his breath.

For a long moment, Edge sat beneath the sheet and considered his options. There were plenty of people in the Embassy who would bring him a pair of pants. There wasn’t a single one who wouldn’t make him pay for it.

Edge tipped his head back and laughed helplessly, harder than he had in his entire life, until he was breathless, his chest aching. Then he picked up his phone to scroll through his contacts, weighing the pros and cons of who he was going to beg for help.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

[graciecatfamilyband]

Hi hi! How are you my dearest GCFB?? Santa here! Hope you've had a nice weekend!! I have a few questions for you!!! 1. Do you prefer action, angst, fluff, or smut for a fic? 2. Are there any popular tropes or fanons for Han and Leia that everyone loves but you disagree with or don't like? 3. What's your favorite moment in the films between Han and Leia? 4. Are there any moments in the films between them you wish had been written differently or elaborated on?? 😊✌🏻

And I have some questions for you. Most pressingly: Are you a witch? (https://graciecatfamilyband.tumblr.com/post/163277873534/graciecatfamilyband-sitting-over-here-like)

1. Hmmm. Well, I love all of those things!!!!, except really action. Action can be well-done of course, but I’m really interested in the characters, their emotions, their interactions, etc. so action can SERVE those things very well but it can also sometimes draw away the focus. Although most of the writers I read use it to bring into relief something important about the characters, because Han/Leia people tend to be character-driven! (Someone- I think the inimitable @corellian-smuggler ?- told their Secret Santa essentially the same thing within the last week, that they/she didn’t really care what was in the fic as much as that the characters were well-done and the focus, and I am shamelessly plagiarizing them/her.) Sometimes I skim through parts of Ord Mantell fics for this reason.

Fun fact though: Before I started writing, I thought I would be an angst/smut writer, but I haven’t written any of that yet (not really- was that Bail/Han thing angst?))! (Some angst may be on the way soon??? Maybe???) I also struggle to categorize fic in that way, and possibly over-estimate the amount of angst in my own fics.(Or maybe I’m under-estimating it?! Who knows?!) I also like things that don’t fit neatly into boxes????

So what I’m saying is: I must like smut, fluff, and angst AND I never know what’s good for me, and should neither be asked nor listened to. 🤔#rambling

2. Oooooh, this is always the million credit question, isn’t it?!?! 

I don’t like it when Han is presented as “falling in love” with or being insanely attracted to Leia in A New Hope. Like there’s a spark there, and I think it kind of needles at Han a little because it’s not what he’s there for/has time for/is interested in, but he’s seen prettier women in his life who are far more likely to be interested in him, he’s not looking for love, Leia’s not looking for casual sex with him, the whole thing is irrelevant.  (Kudos to @otterandterrier for helping me really solidify this trend in my mind with her own ramblings about it.) I think the first chapter of greyathena’s Journey of a Thousand Miles does a good job with the sexual tension between them during this time, that’s very mild and present and not out-of-control or like filling Han with thoughts about how flooringly attractive Leia is, etc. 

I read these fics and some are among my favorites, but I don’t like Leia having been sexually assaulted on the Death Star. I think it could have happened, but I think Leia would have had a lot harder time dealing with being rescued by two strange men than we see her have (she’s very touchy, and I don’t just mean verbally reactive!). I also think *sometimes* authors use it in like a cheap attempt to “up” Leia’s trauma. I think the losing-a-planet and mind-rape/torture at the hands of Vader is more than enough. Sometimes the sexual assault feels like “piling” on the trauma just for the sake of it or because somehow a woman’s trauma isn’t valid unless it’s also explicitly sexual. (The flipside of that last point is that of course, in war and in regular life, women’s trauma is often MADE explicitly sexual as a specific tactic, and I do see the value in writing Leia as a survivor of something many of us readers/writers have experienced and that many female POWs have experienced.) But its Not My Headcanon.

And finally (because this post can’t actually go on forever), the Han as Leia’s Sexually Experienced Teacher. I don’t have a solid headcanon about Leia’s prior sexual experience and in no way mind her being portrayed as a virgin, but I dislike it when this makes Leia into a schoolgirl who knows nothing and/or who only has a sense of how male sexuality works without regard to her own pleasure and needs to be taught to value her own pleasure. I tend to be very skeptical of fics in which Han gives Leia her first orgasm, though again there are exceptions. And again I want to emphasize that there are MANY authors who write Leia as sexually-inexperienced WITHOUT falling into this trope, and I love and treasure them.

3. Honestly, I love Han and Leia in the trash compactor. The sniping, the working together, the trying to save Luke, Han trying to get Leia up on the garbage so she’ll get squashed last, the hug that’s completely friendly and triumphant but somehow feels… like a moment. But not A Moment. 

Also every single Han/Leia moment of ESB, honestly. 

Han being super affectionate but also trying to play it cool, both with that cheek-kiss in ESB and when Leia is on his arm, etc. in ROTJ.

When Han swallows his pride and says sorry, even though he’s jealous of Luke, in ROTJ.

When Han says he won’t get in the way in ROTJ.

The final ROTJ hug.

Basically, all the Han and the Leia. :P 

4. I’m sure there are. But I can’t think of any at the time, and realistically, the post is long enough.

I am having a good weekend, and I hope your weekend has been AMAZING and full of ideas you like and confidence in your ability to write !!!!!!!! 😘

#secret santa writer who may also be a witch #hanxleia secret santa #hanleiasecretsanta #summer fic exchange #Asks! #Anonymous #WHO ARE YOU ?!?!?!?!?

[smoke-eyes-fic]

April Fool’s Drabble

Sorry folks cucu and I are still working on the new chapter. Getting schedules and brain meats lined up in the proper times to get stuff done has been a rather insane venture.  So as a sort of apology, and in observation of April Fool’s I give you an old drabble from my folders of long ago. It sadly doesn’t have an end cause I was never sure where to cut it off. Feel free to create the rest yourself.  Timeline wise - this is after all the whatever-goes-down in the fic. A happy ending with a house and a dog. And hi-jinks ensue. This is based on an old joke I made ages back. Many apologies to those who don’t get the gag. 

It had been an uneventful dusty summer day.  The few chores around the farm had been done in the early morning before the Texas sun started beating down. There was some minor maintenance work that needed to be done on Sam's tractor. But Engineer would get to that when the sun wasn't so high. In the mean time he'd been dozing on the couch watching a Western on the television with Fleabag the hound asleep on his feet. Spy had declared he'd seen enough John Wayne in his lifetime and was in some other part of the house reading.  The Spook was getting restless again, soon he'd start insisting they leave the farm and go traveling.

The doorbell rang startling the Texan awake, Fleabag bayed loudly running to greet whoever was at the door. "Better not be another salesman" he muttered darkly as he slowly rose from the couch, he had hoped they would have learned after the last time. "Just a minute" he called stomping to the door. "Dangit Flea!" he grunted grabbing the dog by the collar dragging him back so he could open the door. "Can ah hel-" he froze as he squinted at the figure through the screen door. 

It was a young girl in a red dress and a beat up red sun hat that threatened to slip over her eyes. "Hullo" she said quietly pushing her hat back to peer up at him. She looked to be no older than six he guessed, too young to be out by herself. Something about her made him doubt she was here to sell cookies. Girl scouts didn't usually bring suitcases with them. He wasn't sure why, but he had a sinking suspicion he knew who to blame for this.

His suspicions were confirmed as she finally added  "I'm looking for my Papa."  

This was a bad dream, he tried to tell himself, closing his eyes for a moment. He would open them and he'd still be on the couch with his movie.  He opened his eyes and the girl and her red hat and suitcase were still standing on the doorstep with no sign of disappearing into thin air."Spah!" he yelled into the house "Git out here!"

Unable in good conscience to leave the child on the doorstep he opened the screen door and gestured for her to come in. Quietly she stepped inside, she turned to her suit case but the Texan had already picked it up. He noticed it was battered but well made, labels from all over the world covered the scuffed leather.

"Who was at the door?" Spy asked walking into the room."Relative of yours?" he asked glancing at the girl, his eyes seemed to avoid looking at the suitcase.

"Actually-"

"Papa!" the girl cut the Texan off walking towards the Frenchman.

A choked sound emitted from Spy's mouth instead of words as he stood rigid in the doorway.

"-She says she's one of yours." Engineer finished lamely.

The child stopped in front of him oblivious to the fact the man was turning a rather unpleasant shade of gray.  She placed her chubby hand into her dress pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope and held it out to him. Quickly regaining composure Spy accepted the letter, ripping it open. His eyes darted across the papers, narrowing with every line before his hand lowered  and glowered at the girl.

"What's it say?" the Texan asked but neither the girl or Frenchman offered any explanation.

Brushing past the girl he took the letter from Spy's slack grip. It was elegant stationary, the message itself was French written in neat flowery feminine hand writing.

"This is a trick." Spy insisted loudly to no one in particular. "Putain de menteur,"

"Don't use language like that with kids present."  Engineer scolded him as he tried to translate the letter but was having trouble concentrating, his mind reeling through too many things at once.  Who was this girl? Where was her mother? Who was her mother?  How did she come to be here in the middle of Texas?

"Merde! -I'll use whatever language I feel lik-" the Frenchman found himself silenced by one of the Texan's hands over his mouth.

"Hush." he hissed, looking at the ceiling and began slowly counting to ten, trying to organize his thoughts.

He never doubted that Spy had children. From his understanding of the man and his past misadventures, he was willing to guess the snake had fathered at least three or four. Though that was a rather conservative guess he told himself. He never expected to meet any of them. Let alone for one to end up on his doorstep.

He hoped this wasn't the start of a trend.

Finally reaching ten he lowered his hand from Spy's mouth hoping the idiot would have the sense to stay quiet for the time being. Looking back down at the girl he noted the resemblance between her and Spy. The same eyes, dark hair, thankfully she seemed to have been spared the man's nose.

"Where's your Mama  sweetie?" he asked kneeling down to look her in the eye.

"Dunno, she dropped me off at the gate." the girl informed him simply as if this was the most normal thing in the world ."She told me I was staying here for a while with my Papa and his friend while she worked." Well that explained the suitcase, and why he hadn't heard a car drive up. Or why the girl didn't seem confused to see him in addition to her father.

"She's not staying here!" Spy insisted to no one who was listening.

"What's your name?"  

The girl's eyes darted up at Spy and back to him, "Carmen" she responded, not the least bit shy.

"Ah tell yah what, Carmen. Let's go to the kitchen, get you some cookies and milk while your Papa and I talk. Would you like that?"

The girl eagerly nodded and followed him into the small kitchen. He sat her down at the table and pulled a couple of cookies out of the cookie jar. He nervously bit into one of the cookies, hardly tasting it as he chewed into dust,  before putting the entire ceramic jar in front of the girl. Glaring at Spy who had tried to palm a cookie for himself,  he poured the child a large mug of milk and left the jug out where she could hopefully reach it.

"Now you stay here, while we talk in the other room.  Alright?"  Carmen was too occupied with her mouth full of crumbs to do much more than nod. With a wide forced smile for the girl's benefit he grabbed Spy's arm before he could slip away and dragged the protesting man out of the kitchen to the other end of the house, hopefully out of ear shot.  

"That girl and her putain mère are liars!" Spy insisted to Engineer who leaned on the door that was only escape from the room.

"Who's her mother?" he asked irritably.

"It was a long time ago." the Frenchman answered defensively. "Years - before you and I-"

"-That's obvious. So who is she?"

"I was trailing her for BLU, they suspected she was courier for an exchange of Austrailium from a black market source. Then one thing led to another and-" the man shrugged pulling his cigarette case out of his pocket.

"So who is she?"

"She was an agent for Reliable Excavation. One of their spies, our paths had never crossed before. Never crossed after. It was a- one night tryst."

"Yah slept with an enemy Spy?!"  

"I slept with you!" Spy pointed out.  "Still do," he added.

"T-that's-" the Texan sputtered. "t-that's neither here nor there!" he insisted feeling his ears burn. "B-but an enemy spy?" He shouldn't be surprised that the man had affairs with others from RED. He'd known that the Frenchman had little regard for rules or boundaries. At least that explained how the woman had tracked Spy down here. He imagined that only another person in the same line of work could manage that. He held the letter over his face and skimmed the letter haphazardly translating the French writing in his head.

Dear [what the hell does she call him - his name - his alias? Spy? Shithead? Idiot?]

I see you and your pet cowboy have settled down for now. You do like to make yourself difficult to find don't you?

You've had your fun, now it's time to take responsibility for past mistakes. I'm sure you don't remember much of me or that night we fought in Las Vegas. Or what came after. I wouldn't have thought much of it myself, if it wasn't for the end results. Her name is Carmen by the way.  

I've been called away to a job - I'll be away for an unknown amount of time and it seemed it was high time the two of you got to know each other. I'm sure you'd agree with me that a child should know their parents. If only to see what poor life choices look like.

Before you start calling me a liar I have included some lab work you should see. My Medic owed me a couple of favors-.

Curious Engineer flipped to the next page. It looked like some sort of lab chart, "She included a paternity test." he said quietly.

"What?" the chart was yanked out of Engineers hands roughly. "How did she even…" Spy trailed off muttering profanity darkly under his breath.

The Texan sighed and went back to reading the letter.

- I expect you to take good care of her since she is your own flesh and blood. I will be back to collect her. Do not think you can dump her in an orphanage for your convenience. If you do, or if anything else happens to her be assured I will hunt you and every alias you ever used down and make you suffer. The same threat applies to your pudgy companion as well.

"Pudgy?" he repeated - rubbing the back of his neck.  

  "This has got to be a fake!" Spy fumed on, the floorboards creaking as he paced, "Where the hell would she even get a sample?"

Engineer sighed, half an hour ago he had been dozing on the couch, planning repairs to a tractor not worrying about some kid that got dumped on his doorstep. "Spook" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Spook" he repeated again "Could'ya- Could'ya stop pacin' for a sec?"

#Team Fortress 2 #carmen sandiego #spy #engie #spyxengie #drabble #sorry this goes nowhere #did this for the lolz #april fools

[charliedayofficial]

do you have any fics that are JH and after s8 where they like get back together?

Hi, anon! Sorry for taking so long to respond but I’ve been scouring all of my previously read fics and the ones in my TBR folder to see what I can recommend to you. While I haven’t read all of these, I've skimmed them all enough to the point where they’re written in a style I like(I’m not big on script format or first person fics). Anyway, here is what I was able to dig up for you!

Nowhere But Lost by Zenkindoflove

Author Summary: Hyde is cynical, depressed, alone, and would really like to keep it that way. But what happens when something inside of him resurfaces and is more than unhappy about his current living arrangements? JH, ED COMPLETE!

My Thoughts: This is seriously one of my all-time favorites. Characterization is great, the plot is great, JH is so fucking cute, and there isn’t much to complain about when it comes to the writing. While this plot isn’t THAT unique, it really doesn’t matter. PLEASE READ!

Outside Looking In by rebeldivaluv

Author Summary: Interconnected vignettes telling key moments in Jackie and Hyde’s relationship, as viewed by the people who know them best.

My Thoughts: Out of all the fics I’ve read, this seriously might be my absolute favorite. The characterization is really spot on, the characters are funny, the writing/story is amazing, and I get everything I want to see with JH. This one is pretty fluffy, which I can’t complain about. I’m really impressed that the author was able to craft a fluffy fic where JH have to get back together, but there’s no angst that makes your heart hurt. I really enjoy reading from other characters perspectives and how they see JH interact in different situations. Cannot recommend enough!

Steven Who? by kezztip

Author Summary: Set just after Misfire Season 8 – Jackie’s world tumbles in on her when she realizes it is really over for her and Hyde and seeks to escape how awful her reality has become. The method of that escape is pure Jackie

My Thoughts: A perfect mix of angsty, funny, and sweet. kezztip is the queen of writing season 8 fics

Come Clarity by Zenkindoflove

Author Summary: Twenty years is a long time to stay gone…

My Thoughts: I personally find this to be the most accurate post season 8 fic where more than 3 years have passed. I’ve never found it believable in other post-season 8 fics where Hyde has a significant other that isn’t Jackie. Jackie changed the game for him so I don’t see him able to fully/truly commit to someone else. This fic is beautiful, cute, funny, and JH is in their purest form. I also enjoy that the author didn’t have the story focus on them talking through their issues from their last breakup, it was more so on reconciliation and finding each other. I wouldn’t say this fic is fluff, but I also wouldn’t say that it’s angsty. Please read it though lol

20 Questions by ShanghaiLily

Author Summary: Just after New Year’s day in 1980, Jackie Burkhart decides to disappear from the basement to save her sanity. When Xmas rolls around and the Formans beg Jackie to attend their party, she ends up involved in an elaborate game of 20 Questions with Hyde that could change both of their lives. T-rated w/ some M chapters. Story is COMPLETE! This one is for the Zennies who hate Season 8!

My Thoughts: This story is really enjoyable, but not perfect. This author tends to be really hit or miss with the characterization of the characters so it can be slightly irritating. Even though how JH and their relationship is described can be frustrating, the story is good enough to look past it. This story just has a really creative way of getting JH back together

The Morning After by ShanghaiLily

Author Summary: Jackie goes to Las Vegas for Fez’s wedding, drinks a little too much, and then wakes up in married to the last person she ever thought would commit to her. This is what happens the morning after.

My Thoughts: Like I mentioned earlier, this author really has hit-or-miss characterization. I really like this fic though because I’m a sucker for Hyde not only being a complete sap over Jackie, but it’s nice to see him kiss her ass. Let’s be real, we all deserve it after the travesty of season 8

That’s My Baby by kezztip

Author Summary: This is a JH story with a twist instead of the wedding and baby being the happy ending, it’s going to be the rocky start. All of you who love to watch Jackie outzen Hyde will be on board with this one.

My Thoughts: This is definitely my favorite kezztip fic. Jackie is so strong in this fic, which I can never get enough of. The author really has Donna grovel to Jackie as well because Donna is TERRIBLE to her in season 8. The writing and characterization are just so well done in this story. I seriously cannot stress that enough! I find it to be the most realistic JH reunion fic post-season 8 because of Jackie’s attitudes towards the gang, her new life/job, and her new outlook on life. After Fez, I can really see her shutting down her hopeless romantic side so she can focus on something she can control; like work. The middle of the fic kind of drags because it’s very clear what the author intends to do, but it quickly picks back up once that part of the story is resolved. This is a must read, especially with what you’re looking for!

The Right Road Lost by zpplnchick

Author Summary: After a car accident, Hyde wakes up to a twisted version of reality he comes to find is actual hell and with no memory of how he got there, a hell that Jackie’s been living in for the past few months. Set during Season 8, shortly after “Sweet Lady”.

My Thoughts: A more detailed, drawn-out, and angstier version of “Nowhere But Lost”

The Tough Get Going by kezztip

Author Summary: What if Jackie went back to her job in Chicago instead of sticking around Point Place to take Hyde’s crap? Say hello again to the strong, determined Jackie we saw glimpses of in Season 7 as she finds a new love but then is pursued by her old love JH AU

My Thoughts: !STRONG JACKIE! and the plot kind of reminds me of a rom-com

Made Bare by mistymountainhop

Author Summary: A heartbroken Hyde considers his relationship with Jackie kaput. Too bad Jackie sees it differently. She intends to get a proper resolution with him, but breaking through his hostility—and getting past his wife—may well prove impossible

My Thoughts: Noone understands JH better. Period.

November Rain by luvcali76

Author Summary: JH Post Season 8. A torrid encounter on Halloween night, 1984, leads ex-couple, Jackie and Hyde, to spend the next month reevaluating their past.

My Thoughts: *sigh* I really hesitate adding this to my list because I really hate this fic. The only thing I like about it is the last chapter, but even that is eh. This is a really popular fic in the fandom, but it’s definitely not for me. I find it too angsty, I don’t buy Hyde in another serious romantic relationship, and I don’t buy Jackie cheating. There’s a trend in some JH fics where they have Jackie cheat on whoever she’s with so she can have these one-night-stands with Hyde. It’s not in Jackie to cheat, no matter who it’s with. It bothers me and the plot isn’t good enough for me to look past it. It’s super angsty too, which also aren’t my favorite so maybe that’s why I don’t like it so much. I’m adding it to the list though because many people do like it, and you may be one of them!

Imagine by heatherlea75

Author Summary: 1980 has been a lousy year for the entire gang, particularly Hyde and Jackie. When a beloved cultural icon dies, the two take an impulsive trip to New York, together. While there, they remember old impressions of one another and discover new things about themselves

My Thoughts: While this is a JH classic in the fandom and a ton of people love it, I’m not the biggest fan. One of the main problems I had with it was I found Jackie acting way too desperate to appease Hyde after all he had done to her in season 8. It is important to note that the writing is solid and there were parts of the story that I did enjoy. While it may not be my cup of tea, you may like it!

Chasing the Time by pastelpink

Author Summary: Everything was different apart from one thing: Jackie still loved Hyde. (Set during Season 8)

Cliches and Things They Say by heatherlea75

Author Summary: Jackie is looking forward to the new direction her life has taken. Hyde is happy with the same old, same old of his. But when once faces a familiar and seemingly inevitable situation, and the other an unexpected dressing down, both reevaluate their lives.

My Thoughts: I’m surprised that I haven’t read this yet, but I found it buried down deep in my TBR folder. The writing is solid, there’s definite angst, and you’ll definitely get the ending you’re looking for!

Misguided Ghosts by JoyfulHeartEO

Author Summary: The gang has left, Jackie and Hyde are the only ones left. But after Sam left they stopped talking. When something happens to Jackie will Hyde be there for her? Or will he be selfish and only help himself. Its time to grow up, but will he?

My Thoughts: While this fic is incomplete and not the best written, there’s a super sweet Hyde in it which is always a fun thing

Life As A House by kezztip

Author Summary: A Crossover with the movie - Jackie’s Uncle George invites her to spend the summer with him to help with a ‘special project’. She agees but she will get more than she bargained for when she finds out the real reason behind her Uncle’s invitation.

My Thoughts: kezztip is one of my favorite fanfic authors for season 8 related fics. She usually crafts a strong Jackie who stands up for herself, something that we didn’t get to see in season 8. While this isn’t the best fic she’s written, it’s still worth a read!

Friends or Lovers? by JoyfulHeartEO

Author Summary: N/A

My Thoughts: This fic is super long and the author is known for their sugary sweet fics. From what I’ve skimmed, this looks to be her attempt at an angsty fic. This could be a hit-or-miss, but it should be pretty decent 

Pain Without Love by YouLivexYouDie

Author Summary: Three-shot. Jackie Burkhart is about to experience something life changing. She will never be the same afterward nor will the people who love her. Eventual JH

My Thoughts: This actually looks really good! The writing looks pretty well done and what I’ve seen has definitely intrigued me. While this place during season 8, it’s still basically what you’re looking for

Happy Holidays by YouLivexYouDie

Author Summary: Three-shot. Jackie planned on spending the holidays alone, that was until Eric Forman decided to come back from Africa early. JE friendship, eventual JH.

My Thoughts: I love fics with Jackie and Eric friendship, especially when Eric helps JH and their relationship. This also takes place during season 8 instead of after

All It Takes Is Love by SwanseaGurl

Author Summary: Jackie Hyde post season 8, two shot

My Thoughts: Also takes place during season 8(Sam is still there so it’s season 8 no matter what the author says) and it’s pretty short. Regardless, I think it’s one of the better short season 8 fics that I’ve read

For Her Sake by heatherlea75

Author Summary: Jackie and Hyde’s final break up is brutal, though all is not as it seems. When his involvement in certain activities forces Hyde to take drastic action, the fate of his complicated relationship with Jackie appears doomed. But is it?

My Thoughts: This is such a good fic! There’s romance, crime, mystery, and plenty of drama! I’m really picky about season 8 fics, especially if Sam is in it. The author was really creative with this story, so I highly recommend! 

Let me know if y’all want any other fic recs

#Bridget answers things #jackie x hyde #hyde x jackie #JH #otp: I'm the bitch and you love me #otp: I thought it might cheer you up #Jackie and Hyde #hyde and jackie #That '70s Show #fanfic recs