#the quote is from a fanfic that made me really happy to write

[hotchlove]

Trustworthy | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

hi!!! welcome to my first one-shot fanfic :) i had a blast writing this and hope u'll have even more fun reading it.

• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, anytype of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • trustworthy - 3.1k+ words (i got carried away D:) • desc.: - quite a bit of angst - probable inaccurate description of readers job - happy ending ♡

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

it's been about five or six months since i've joined the behavioral analysis unit in the fbi. it's not like i've been counting the days...

who am i kidding? it's been exactly 191 days - whereas like 2 of those days my boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, was actually nice to me.

those being my first two shifts.

on the third day, i had to make a spontaneous choice whilst on a case - one that, sure, was reckless and stupid and to quote hotch "unprofessional", but i managed to save many unpredictable lives with that choice.

we were on a case in miami, a state the team hasn't visited yet up until that day.

it was a 3h flight but it was a big case, so those hours flew on by as garcia briefed us. a 36 year old mother recently lost her teenage child to the hands of a drunk and supposedly has had hallucinations of her late child telling her to kill other kids, as revenge, i'm guessing - spooky, right?

i suggested manic schizophrenia - clear symptoms and obvious manic signs (the killings). that suggestion kind of cleared the foggy air on the jet. hotch gave me a nod of approval and i felt pretty damn proud of myself, it was only my third day after all.

on the third and last day, we finally cornered the woman on a traffic free highway. she had no where to run, agents were surrounded all around her - but she was holding a shotgun. the simple way out would've been having one of our federal snipers shoot her - but i couldn't let that happen. she killed the children of many, and letting her die a painless and simple death just didn't feel right.

i swatted the snipers away, the red laser that was planted on her forehead now gone. i throw my gun on the floor and pretend to surrender, hands up. "you remind me of my mother." i tell her, my arms up.

"Y/N." hotch warns me. his eyebrows furrow as he sees me now weaponless, basically staring the shotgun in it's eyes. i don't turn to him, i don't even acknowledge him. "she tried so hard to protect me." i say and walk tiny steps towards the woman, who now walks backwards to avoid me.

"stop! one more move and i-i'll shoot." no she won't. "she basically devoted her life to making sure i remain scratchless and pure." i chuckle.

"well, look how that turned out. i've got scars all over my body and a fun memory to come with all of them." i get even closer to her. "i know how you feel. i know how much you miss him." the woman cries and nods.

"i do. i really do. what did i do wrong?!" she yells and she points the shotgun at me. "i protected him like he was made out of glass, whilst other mothers - bad ones - let their kids wander everywhere alone."

hotch jumps a little seeing the woman point her hefty gun at me. "Y/N. move." he warns, his tone as stern as his expression.

i shake my head but don't look back. "other mothers - bad ones - still have their kids. and mine," her tears fall. "my baby boy got swept off his feet the only time - an exception - when he got to walk home alone from school." she cries.

"you're right. you did everything right," i reassure her and walk even closer, only 10 meters standing between me and the shotgun barrel.

"except you forgot one thing," i scoff. "teaching him to grow the fuck up."

bang.

the gun drops to the floor shortly after she shoots. morgan runs towards her, putting the metal cuffs on her wrist. he reads her rights and takes her to the sheriffs wagon that was parked just 2 minutes away.

the bullet didn't hit me - she had no idea how to take an accurate shot. god, she barely even held that shotgun - the weight of it almost holding her instead of the other way around.

"agent Y/L/N!" hotch runs towards me, i pick myself up. "we got he-" i get interrupted by him. "what is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"are you actually insane? i gave you a direct order to move. do you think of me as a fool?" he yells, his voice basically growling.

"excuse me? i just basically handed her to you." i say, offended he's yelling at me for doing my job. "and in the process you almost got your head blown off." he's even angrier as i talk back.

"head blown off?" i scoff. "hotch, the woman couldn't even hit a giant red target if she tried. it was a risk i had to ta-" he interrupts me again.

"no- no, agent. it wasn't. you put your life on the line to appear macho infront of everyone here." he puts his pistol in it's holder and crosses his arms, taking slow but sure steps towards me. "you took control of the case like you're a veteran - but actually, you're just a rookie that will probably quit in the span of 2 months because you'll realise you can't do this." he growls again. that one hurt. "badge and gun. you're flying back to quantico tonight. i'll put in a request for a two week suspension as soon as i am back." he holds out his hand, waiting for me to hand him my gun and badge. my eyebrows furrow. "what?" my mouth parts - speechless. "you can't be serious." i say, unsure if he is. he's silent for an entire minute.

so he is serious. i give in - i have to, he's my boss, so i hand him my badge and my gun. without saying anything, i walk away. leaving the crime scene, wasn't authorized to be there anymore anyway. and ever since that day, 188 days ago, aaron hotchner has got it in for me.

--

everyones sitting in the briefing room except me and garcia. i walk in 2 minutes late and excuse myself, "sorry, lost track of time." JJ nods and hotch says "you own a watch, don't you, agent?" his angry expression once again tainting his face.

god i'd pay a ridiculous amount of money to punch him just once. "yes, sir. will not happen again." i reassure.

no one calls hotch sir except me. it's kind of a unspoken rule - the others are close to him, which i am not. which i will probably never be, considering he still judges my mistake as a way to not trust me with anything.

garcia walks in just a minute after me "sorry, guys, kevin was blabbing and blabbing and i could not get him to shut up." she says and smiles awkwardly. "it's fine" hotch says. "everyone's allowed to be late - once." he raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

just one punch.

JJ briefs us on the case and tells us the local police department doesn't want us there - so she's going to have to convince them, which can take a day or two. i don't mind - i was honestly not in the mood for a flight today. everyone goes back to their every day business. files, reports, coffee and smalltalk in the kitchen - or for morgan and garcia, friendly flirting in her office.

me and spencer are both stirring a fresh cup of good ol' joe in the kitchen, talking - or well, he's talking - about some new physics crap. i just nod and pretend i understand.

the color of the beige wall behind him looks particularly interesting today. he keeps explaining and suddenly goes "BOOM!" his hands wide and i jump a little at the noise - spilling coffee all over my pink blouse. i look at him annoyed, "oh my god. i will murder you." he can't contain his laugh and bursts, "i was just demonstrating!" then goes running out of the kitchen before i can get to him. i sigh and look at my now brown blouse - this would be awfully devastating if i didn't have a go-bag. i place my almost empty mug in the kitchen sink and head towards my tabe - emily giving me a curious stare. "what happened to you?" she scoffs, "physics." i reply and take my go-bag, fishing out the only blouse i have - a white one.

emily just nods at my remark and goes back to her file as if it was the most normal thing ever. considering it's me - it probably was. i change in the ladies room and scrunch my coffee splattered blouse into a ball. standing infront of my mirror i realise how see-through this blouse is - especially with a pink bra that i wore just for the pink blouse. "you have got to be kidding me." my eyes widen. it's really not that bad, but it's noticeable. so noticeable HR might force us all into a "appropriate clothing" seminar tomorrow. i really don't have much of a choice so i walk out like that, hoping or praying no one notices. my hope is diminished when i meet garcia in the bullpen, holding her palm to her hand so she doesn't burst out laughing. "not a word, garcia." i look at her, my eyes shooting arrows. thank god for kevin, as he comes and pecks her lips, her surpressed laughter now gone like the wind. saved by the bell. or well, by a kiss. i sit down at my table and keep working on my reports - if i slouch down enough you really can't see it. i'm a great problem solver. a rough, deep voice calls my name from a distance, "agent Y/L/N, my office, please." hotch says standing in his doorway. my head drops in defeat - i really have no luck today. i grab the file i was working on and hold it on my chest, basically hugging it - it makes me look weird but not weirder than having my pink bra open for everyones eyes. i stand infront of his door, mumbling to myself about how i hate my life and knock twice. "come in" hotch says, his eyes glued to his computer. "sir. you wanted to see me?" he nods and tells me to sit down, still not looking up. and so i do, i sit down and keep hugging my file like it's gonna grow legs and walk away. he finally raises his head and looks at me. his eyebrows furrow at the sight of me holding for dear life on the file, "is that for me?" he asks. "huh?" the file. "oh, no- i just really like this file." i smile awkwardly and his mouth parts as if he wanted to say something more, but he doesn't. the embarassement i'm feeling right now could wash half the population off of the earth. "you're gonna have to be transfered to a different unit." he says and coughs, his throat sounding almost dry as he barely speaks that sentence. my eyes widen to 3x their size, "what? but i didn't do-" i take a breath. "i didn't do anything wrong? you're just gonna transfer me? just like this? wh- i don't get it." i rise from my seat not realising i let my file drop. he stares at my chest and then back to my eyes like 10 times till i realise. i heastily grab the file again, sit back down and cover my chest back up, "i spilled coffee on my other blouse." i explain. hotch sighs, "it wasn't my decision. strauss wants you gone." he coughs again. "i tried to convince her, agent." i scoff. sure he did. he was probably the first one to agree to the transfer. "you're joking, right?" i stand up once again, file still in my embrace. "i know you want me gone. i just know you were the first one to agree with strauss decision." i raise my voice slightly. "wanting me gone is one thing, so is transferring me - but lying about it? you're pathetic." hotch's eyebrows furrow. he doesn't seem angry, he just seems.. apologetic? "agent, listen to m-" this time i interrupt him, "i'm done listening," i drop the file on his table "here. it's yours now." i exit his office but notice in my peripheral vision that he stood up, as if wanting to follow me. all eyes are on me and how i storm to my desk, either that or my pink bra. but i don't care. i grab my bag and jacket, my files still scattered around my desk - but they're not mine anymore, so why should i care? "Agent Y/L/N." hotch calls and exits his office, i ignore him and just keep walking. "Y/N." he calls me by my first name now. i notice the elevator is about to leave so i ask the person in it to hold it, a hand splitting the doors as i manage to walk in just in time, aaron standing 10 feet away looking defeated. --

i took a cold shower as soon as i got home to calm my nerves. didn't help much but pretending it did helps. got myself dressed in a large shirt and some raggedy pyjama pants and poured myself a glass of red wine. then another one. i'm reliving today in my thoughts - why did i get fired from the bau? and why did aaron - sorry, hotch - lie? everyone knows he despises me and wanted me gone as soon as possible, and he did so, why lie then? i gulp down another sip of wine and hear a knock at my door. if this isn't the chinese food i ordered i'll be heavily disappointed. i open the door without checking who it is and see hotch standing infront of my apartment door, the arms of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows and his jacket held on his shoulder by his hand. he looks pissed. like always but worse. "what are you doing here? i don't need to transfer to another apartment, do i?" i mock him and cross my arms. "can i come in?" he asks with a stern expression. "why?" i look at him, awaiting an explanation. i'm not just gonna let my asshole boss into my apartment with no plausible reason. "we need to talk. please." his expression changes and my heart breaks a little. i don't know why. i hate him. he's rude and selfish and made me doubt my career. but i let him in anyways. i take a seat on a bar stool at my kitchen island, sipping on my red wine waiting for him to say what he has to say. "i didn't request your transfer. i didn't agree with strauss either." i scoff but he keeps talking before i can, "but i couldn't disagree either." i knew it. god this motherf- "you got offered a unit chief position." he says and my eyes widen. "it's gonna be great for your career. it's a better pay and everything." he walks towards me and chuckles, "you'd be in a higher department than me, and that within just 6 months of working at the fbi." my eyebrows furrow, he better not be playing with me because i'm believing every second of it. "i didn't want you gone. you're an amazing agent and we," he gulps. "i was so lucky to have you. but i can't deny you a promotion out of my own selfish reasons." my mouth parts as i inhale a small breath. this is.. unexpected, to say the least. "hotch, i'm so sorry for going off at you like that." he shakes his head, "don't apologise. i know how i've been treating you and it was unfair. and totally unprofessional." he takes small steps towards me, stopping just infront of me. he swipes a strand of hair behind my ear and my body freezes - his warm fingers slightly touching my ear, his gaze so soft. i've never seen him so vulnerable before. "i care for you. and even though i handled it poorly, i thought i'd lose you on just your third day." he exhales and his arms now cross. "i couldn't let that happen. so ever since, i thought going hard on you would cause you to be more careful, less reckless." his head drops and his eyebrows furrow. "i know it was selfish, and god did i hate seeing you on the verge of tears everytime i had to discipline you." he looks me straight in the eyes, they no longer shoot fire arrows, they shoot soft looks and quick smiles as his mouth curls a little. "i'm sorry, Y/N. and i hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." he closes his eyes and leans forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. i stand there, still frozen. i don't manage to say anything but i notice him moving. leaving. he grabs his jacket and twists the doorknob on my door without a word. "wait -" i manage to blurt out and he turns around, surprised. i walk towards him in a very quick manner, basically sprinting. if me two hours ago was put in this position, i'd finally take swing at the punch i've been begging for. but i don't. instead, i cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.

he doesn't react at first, the kiss starting slow, but then he grips at my waist tightly and pulls me towards him. he grins into the kiss and it feels like he just wants to eat me whole. he's greedy, unwilling to share, like he's wanted this for a while. i break the kiss so i can take a couple of breaths, he doesn't let go of my waist and looks me in the eyes. "i'm really sorry" his thumb carressing my left cheek. "you've said that."

"not enough." his lips land on mine again, this kiss shorter, more like a peck. his strong arms embrace me and my head lays on his broad chest. "isn't this unprofessional? a boss and his subordinate?" i ask as he hugs me tightly, "you're not my subordinate anymore, though, uniet chef Y/L/N." i chuckle into his embrace and pull myself away from him, looking into his eyes. "what if i don't take the job?" his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, "you have to, it's an amazing offer." i shrug and look up at the ceiling. "maybe. i kinda like my current work place though, i'd be willing to go back. unless of course my snarky boss won't take me." i grin playfully and he kisses my forehead. "monday 8:00 o'clock. don't be late this time."

#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #thomas gibson #fanfic #oneshot #criminal minds #bau team

[an-angels-fury]

Two Men in Love

Hey people! Guess who came back with a fresh new Caspeter fanfic?! 😘

A big thanks for @eds-gryff for making 👉 THIS AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL VIDEO 👈 that inspired me to write this piece (that with some luck will receive like... 5 notes or something like that).

I'm really considering to start posting my fics on AO3. Who knows...

Anyway, good reading! 🫶

P.S.: A friendly reminder that English is not my first language, so don't fuck me up, okay?

P.S. 2: The fic's title comes from the song of same name by "The Irrepressibles" (THIS IS THE CASPETER ANTHEM I WON'T ACCEPT CRITICISM! 👌)

P.S. 3: The photos and quotes used on the aesthetic were all found on Pinterest, but the edit was made BY ME. DON'T FUCKING REPOST IT!!! 😡

The afternoon sun was already reaching its peak when Peter took the same usual route back home. He had left early in the morning to travel the long distance to the small village where he cared for his patients. The start of the day had been peaceful and, luckily, no particularly serious medical cases had to be dealt with, just minor incidents such as a 7-year-old girl with a broken ankle after falling from a tree, a lumberjack with a dislocated shoulder and an old fisherman who had some difficulty breathing - a problem definitely related to his advanced age and his addiction to smoking. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Peter warned him about the consequences of excessive cigarette use, it was a harmful habit that the old, stubborn man was not willing to give up.

The doctor was climbing the hill, coat and suitcase in each hand, admiring the green, undulating mounds that decorated the landscape that was beginning to form before his eyes. He couldn't imagine choosing a better place to spend the rest of his life - well, actually there was another place, but it was the only place he already knew he could never return to. For a moment, Peter found himself downcast, the weight of melancholy taking over his chest. It was a feeling he was already familiar with, although it became less constant with each passing year. A king could leave Narnia, but Narnia would never leave him as long as he lived. He was absolutely sure of that.

A loud noise woke him from his cloud of thoughts, and suddenly the bittersweet feeling in his heart disappeared. A dog with yellow fur and big ears came running towards him, barking at the top of his lungs, and the blond man didn't hesitate to drop his things and opened his arms to welcome him. When he least noticed, Peter found himself flung to the ground, laughing like a child as the animal on top of him licked his face, wagging the tail happily. When the dog calmed down from his euphoric state and allowed the poor man to recover, Peter sat down on the grass and scratched the animal's head right behind the ears - exactly in his favorite spot.

- I missed you too, big boy - he said with a big smile on his face.

That sweet moment was interrupted by a whistle coming from not far away. The dog turned his head and remained quiet for a moment, just looking towards the supposed place where the sound had come from. Soon after, a man's voice was heard, calling him by the name. Peter would recognize that beautiful voice from any corner of the world.

- Rhidon!

The animal didn't blink before barking and running away again. Without rushing, Peter got up and walked a few more meters until he finally saw the small cottage that, a few years ago, had become his new home. In front of the door, there was a very happy Caspian carrying Rhidon in his arms as if he were a giant baby. Peter couldn't help but laugh at such an adorable scene. The dark-haired man smiled back at him and made room for him to come in.

- I hope you're hungry. - Caspian said.

- Starving. - Peter joked.

The smell of fresh bread coming from the kitchen reached his nostrils, which quickly remind him that there were still some sweets and baked goods left in the special basket the baker's wife had given him in thanks for taking care of their sick son. Peter sat down at the table and allowed Caspian to serve him.

- Bon appétit. - Caspian placed the plate in front of his companion and leaned over to give him a little smootch.

The young telmarine had no cooking skills when he arrived in England, which was expected of a prince who spent most of his life being served by others around him. Fortunately, because he was a curious person and fascinated with everything that was different and unknown to him - one of the many reasons why Peter had fallen in love with him -, Caspian was quite willing to learn, especially having Susan and Lucy to help him. Although neither of the two boys were masters in the art of cooking, they loved creating new recipes and dishes whenever they had the opportunity. It was one of their favorite pastimes.

The cottage in which they lived was a simple but no less charming place. The walls were painted a beige tone and the windows were adorned with white shutters and small pots of wildflowers outside. It was possible to hear the slight creaking of the boards when walking on the wooden floor, but this was never considered a nuisance for any of the residents - on the contrary, it was considered a relaxing and even inviting sound for both. In the living room, there was a couch and an old armchair where the boys usually sat at the end of the day to relax in front of the cozy heat of the fireplace. 

The location of the house couldn't be more perfect either. The cottage was built in a rural area, surrounded by nature and relatively far from any sign of human life. On the other hand, the place still had a considerable distance between the village where Peter always worked - and where he and Caspian went twice a week to buy the supplies and food necessary for their daily lives - and Professor Kirke's mansion, who had become a great friend, confidant and tutor for the two young people since their last adventure in Narnia. He was responsible for helping the Pevensie siblings teach Caspian everything about their reality - he still remembered fondly from time to time of the prince's shocked expression after finding out they all lived in a round world! -, as well as being Peter's greatest guide during his journey to build his career in medicine. The couple made frequent visits to the master's house, where they also met up with Lucy and Edmund - and sometimes Susan as well - to spend the afternoon drinking tea with cookies, telling stories and even plotting little pranks to make fun of the Professor’s poor housekeeper Mrs. McCready, who had already grown new strands of gray hair since the last time they were there. Sometimes it was as if they had never stopped being children.

But the best part of it all was that Peter and Caspian no longer had to worry about hiding their love. They could court, exchange passionate kisses, walk across the field hand in hand, rest their heads on each other's shoulders, lie embraced in the meadow in the sunlight. They were free to express all the affection and intimacy that other lovers shared when were together.

The two sat at the table without saying a word for most of the meal, just exchanging shy smiles and affectionate looks. Even after all these years, they still felt and acted like two teenagers in love.

- And you? Aren't you going to eat? - Peter asked, noticing that Caspian hadn't picked up a plate for himself.

- I had already eaten before you arrived. - Caspian explained - You came back early today. How was your afternoon, doctor?

The blond one smiled at the other man's playful tone and moved his hand towards his, interlacing their fingers. From there, Peter began to tell a little about the patients he had seen that day. The two continued talking for a while until, a few minutes later, they got up and went to the couch in the living room. Peter decided to take a new book from the shelf to start reading - one of those lent by Professor Kirke -, while Caspian allowed him to lie down on his lap and just stayed there, running his fingers through his lover's golden hair and carefully watching the change in his expressions as he flip through the pages of the book in his hands.

Caspian recalled that one of the things that surprised him most when meeting Peter was seeing with his own eyes who the man behind the legend was. From idealization to disappointment to acceptance and, finally, to love, he reached a point where he realized that Peter Pevensie - the flawed, vulnerable being who was willing to carry all the burdens of the world alone for the protection of those he loved most, even that this meant putting his own pain aside and suffering in silence - was much more fascinating than the heroic and majestic figure of "The High King Peter the Magnificent'' that he had learned to adore and idolize since he was a child. He felt honored to be one of the few people to know details—intimate secrets—that couldn't be found in any dusty old history book: like the way Peter's shoulders relaxed when he lay awake at night, incapable of surrendering to sleep, sitting against the window frame watching the stars; the unique and special glow that lit up in his smile whenever Lucy was with him; all the wonderful sounds that escaped his mouth when Caspian touched and kissed him in all the right places every time they made love.

Every touch, every gesture, every perfect imperfection made Peter, his husband - perhaps not officially recognized by the law of men, or even in the eyes of God, but real to them and their dear ones - the extraordinary man he loved so so much. And Caspian hoped he had the rest of their lives to show him that.

After a while, Peter got tired of reading and, in one quick movement, closed the cover of the book and sat down. Curious, Caspian remained quiet, looking at the other man, who soon spoke with a voice full of enthusiasm:

- Let's go outside!

Before he had a chance to react, Peter was already pulling him off the couch and guiding him to the front door. It didn't take a second for Rhidon, who was previously asleep on the floor, to wake up to his owners' excitement and quickly follow them. The three of them ran out into the open air, their messy hair flying in the wind and barefoot, feeling the earth, the fallen leaves and the dew on the green grass under the soles of their feet. At that moment, they were not gentlemen of English society, nor soldiers rebuilding their lives in a chaotic world ravaged by war, much less kings of a land full of talking animals and magical creatures. They were just two happy, carefree boys with indomitable spirits and fire in their hearts. They knew they had everything they needed.

When they were both exhausted and out of breath, Peter and Caspian lay down together and watched the way the setting sun painted the sky in strong shades of orange, pink and red. Well, just Caspian, actually. Peter had all his attention focused on the young telmarine's face. The former prince's beauty never went unnoticed in his eyes, even at a time when he still believed to despise him with every fiber of his being. Honestly, the fact that the High King felt so captivated by those piercing black pupils, that tanned skin, those long dark locks that fell over Caspian's broad shoulders in beautiful waves only served to make him even more annoyed with the other’s mere presence.

Not that this was the first time a man had made Peter feel this way. Apparently, romantic relationships between people of the same gender had always been seen as something natural in Narnia, which surprised him at first, considering the fact that he was raised in a world where such an attitude was seen as something abnormal and, at worst, a crime. He remembered the few occasions he had got the attention of some members of the court and messengers from neighboring kingdoms during his and his siblings' reign. There were times when he corresponded and even took the attraction game further. But none of his suitors had ever made Peter feel what he felt when he was with Caspian. And at first, it terrified him. It did because, even after so many years, he still heard voices whispering in his mind, calling him cursed names.

Sick. Unclean. Aberration. Sinner.

But with Caspian, something changed. Those aggressive words began to lose their force. All it took was the sweetness of his smile or hearing him call Peter’s name and suddenly, all the noise inside him was reduced to the purest silence. Now, he could hold Caspian's hand without feeling dirty. He could say "I love you" in its truest meaning without feeling the weight of guilt taking over his heart. He finally allowed himself to feel pleasure, not shame, in being hugged, kissed, touched and, above all, loved by his partner.

You love him and he loves you. You are happy. You are not hurting anyone. There is nothing wrong with that.

You are not broken. You don't need fixing.

Peter stayed like this, lying on the taller man's shoulder, admiring the calm and dreamy expression on his face.

- That's what I love most. - Caspian broke the silence, his voice calm.

- What?

- Moments like this, where we can be alone. Just you and me.

And then came the smile. That damn stupid, charming smile that always made a warm blush rise to his cheeks. And there was only one thing Peter could - and desperately needed - to do about it. He propped himself up on both elbows, held Caspian's face between his hands and pressed his lips against his, giving him a long, slow, fervent kiss.

That's what made Caspian so beautiful, the blond man told himself: it wasn't just his physical beauty, but all the color and beauty he brought to Peter's world. And he had no words to describe the extent of his gratitude for having this wonderful human being by his side.

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

The night was calm. The only sounds in the room were the continuous music playing on the radio station and a gentle breeze that blew against the glass of the closed windows. Even after they had already eaten dinner, Peter returned to sit at the table in the kitchen to pay attention to issues related to his work. He was analyzing some notes he had written over the last few weeks related to the project of a new clinic. For a long time, Peter saw medicine as a chance to wash his soul of all the blood he had shed in his former existence, to use his hands to heal and save lives instead of taking them. He wanted to prove to himself that he could be much more than a weapon, an instrument for violence and death. And in the end, he succeeded. But he wanted it to be just the beginning of an even bigger plan.

The young man was so deep in his thoughts that he almost jumped out of his chair when he heard the clinking of the saucer being placed on the table. Peter soon felt the hot steam from the teacup being blown into his face.

- To keep you awake. - Caspian's gentle voice reached his ears.

- I'm not that tired. - Peter replied without looking up from the papers - You know, you don't need to pamper me all the time. I'm already grown up.

Caspian just snorted at his husband's typical petulance. It was a silly behavior he was already quite used to.

- But that's how our relationship works: you take care of everyone. And I - he paused his sentence to approach and kiss Peter's left cheek and only then completed - I take care of you. So, accept this at once and stop complaining.

All Peter did was roll his eyes and simply accept his lover's affectionate gesture.

- Thank you. - Peter said, this time in a more delicate and less irritated tone. In return, Caspian held one of his hands and placed a kiss on his fingers, letting his lips take time to caress that pale, soft skin. When that contact finally ceased, the telmarine was taken by surprise when he noticed the way the man sitting in front of him stared back at him, following his every slightest movement, without ever looking away.

Peter's eyes were the first thing that caught Caspian's attention when they met. Those blue eyes, deep and clear as the ocean, sometimes calm and peaceful, sometimes restless and stormy, where giant waves crashed and broke against each other. Caspian always felt like he found a new adventure every time he looked into those eyes, a new secret to be revealed, a new dark corner to be found, an infinite number of possibilities and mysteries that would be impossible to discover in a single life. Even those who called themselves the bravest explorers would be intimidated by the sight of those turbulent and unpredictable waters, but Caspian wasn't one of them. He came from a long lineage of pirates, the daring and danger of the seas ran through his veins. He was not afraid of drowning - in fact, he gladly embraced this possibility.

Suddenly, a slow, romantic ballad started playing on the radio, waking the two lovers from their frenzy - or maybe it was just carrying them into a new dream.

- Would you give me the privilege of follow me in this dance? - Caspian invited him, speaking in a low, deep voice in a way that let his Spanish accent even more evident. He knew very well the effect such seductive move used to have on Peter and how to use it to his advantage.

- The tea will get cold. - the other one stammered in a failed attempt to disguise the desire that took his breath away.

The dark-haired man just chuckled cheekily.

- Just shut up.

Peter didn't even try to retort as he knew that any form of resistance would be futile. He just stood up and let Caspian guide them to the little slice of Heaven the two of them shared.

Since the first time he and his siblings were sent away from Narnia, Peter didn't believe that he would ever be able to feel such genuine joy in worldly things again, like taking an afternoon nap in the shade of a tree, inhaling the scent of the pages of a book when you open it, feeling a snowflake melting on your tongue or even practicing small acts of altruism and kindness on a daily basis that were capable of transforming lives in miraculous ways - he also quickly learned that he didn’t need to be a powerful hero to help those who needed it most.

And of course, dancing at night in the middle of the kitchen with your love. It was another one of his favorite pastimes. Two bodies united, moving in time and space. Heart against heart, beating like drums, sharing the same melody. They were flames, burning and turning everything around them into shadows and smoke, until there was nothing left but the music and two souls naked in the starlight.

The tea was left forgotten on the top of the table, along with all his responsibilities. At that moment, Peter's only reality was Caspian's hair tangled between his fingers, those strong arms running around his hips and the heat of the young man’s lips brushing the skin of his neck. He had never felt so much pleasure in being totally surrendered. All Peter could do was close his eyes, sigh deeply, and just exist.

After that, it's not known exactly how much time has passed. Any sense of hours or minutes became completely clouded and scattered. One moment, the two men were standing in the kitchen and the next, they had been magically transported to the bedroom, taking off their clothes and continuing their dance, but this time, to a rhythm that only they could hear. It was an old song of which only they knew the notes, the rests and the chords. They were the only ones who knew which parts of the body they needed to touch with their hands or mouth to make the other moan, scream and sing.

At the end of the act, the two found themselves thrown onto the messy bed sheets, sweaty bodies intertwined in the darkness. Peter rested his forehead against Caspian's collarbone and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin and concentrating on the heavy rise and fall of the boy's chest. Then, he felt Caspian wrap his arms around him and slowly slide his hands down his back, massaging specific points on his spine with circular movements of his thumbs. It was a calm, relaxing sensation that made all the tension in the blond's muscles disappear, allowing him to sink into a deep sleep.

It was still something strange to him, being with someone who made him feel safe, protected. In most situations, it was Peter who was forced to take on the mantle of protector, as the eldest brother and as king. It was a challenge to give up this role that he had imposed on himself for so long. It took patience and reflection for him to finally understand that his family was no longer in danger, that the war was already over. That he didn't need to fight anymore. Of course, there were still days when he was haunted by terrible echoes of the past, nights when he woke up to the sound of his own crying and the screams in his head, afternoons when he walked very attentively down the street or stood still for a minute in front of the cottage’s door in an unusual state of alert, as if he feared that something bad was about to happen at any moment.

Now, everything had changed. Peter had found someone he could show his demons to and he knew they wouldn't run away. Not that he had never been vulnerable when he was around his siblings. It was hard not to be when the four of them knew each other better than anyone else: Susan could read his thoughts with just a single look. After years of fighting side by side on the battlefield, Peter and Edmund's minds worked as one, always predicting and preceding each other's every move and strategy. Lucy's presence was enough to calm the storm of emotions that shook his insides.

But with Caspian, that feeling had a different flavor. It wasn't better, nor worse, it was just… new. Peter would face a thousand armies out of love for his family and his kingdom. The love he felt for Caspian made him want to lay down his sword and strip off his armor forever. It was the kind of love that made him want to live, not just survive.

Yes, sometimes all a king needed was a safe haven to lean on. Sometimes, what a king needed most was just someone he could be weak with.

#bia's failed attempt at writing #also I beg you all to please ignore any possible historical inaccuracy in this 🙏 #I didn't specify the time in which the story takes place but I imagined it like 5-6 years after the ending of “Prince Caspian (movie-verse) #oh and can I mention HOW BEAUTIFUL 40's SONGS ARE?!!! I'm just commenting 'cause I heard many 40's vibes playlists on youtube #to get some inspiration while writing this fic and OMG I FELT SO RELAXED AND NOSTALGIC (FROM A TIME I WASN'T EVEN BORN) IT'S SO CRAZY!!!! 😍 #the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia #tcon #c.s. lewis #narnia au #peter pevensie #caspian x #prince caspian #caspeter #caspian x peter #peter x caspian #william moseley #ben barnes #disney #fanfiction #narnia fanfiction #narnia fic #narnia aesthetic #aesthetic #aesthetic moodboard #my edits #oneshot #one shot #my writing

[warcorrespondence]

review: hunting season

nogoaway wrote this lil ditty called hunting season and what happened was I started thinking about going backpacking again.

fandom: generation kill

pairing: bradnate

mature, 9124 words

Me, a week ago, loading up on porny fanfic for an airplane ride: I'm so SET, this is GREAT.

Actually reading said porny fanfic on the plane: Ohgodohgod please don't read over my shoulder I'm sorry i'm such a perv as I sit here with my knitting and my overalls I'm like a cottage core stealth pervert you had no idea what you were getting into when I sat down I'll just keep making the font smaller and hope for the best.

Which is to say, some fics are rated Explicit, and I say meh. Some, like this one, are rated a mild bodice-ripping Mature, and I need to fan myself.

Perhaps you'd like to know more about the actual fic? Very well.

Post OIF, Brad is a little antsy. He goes on a road trip to have his post-combat freakout alone in the desert with the coyotes, but his mom worries and calls Ray and Gina Espera, and...guess who comes looking for him?

Brad's not that happy to see Nate, as Nate is precisely who he's trying to get away from--because Nate is leaving the Corps. But maybe it's not really about that, and maybe Nate leaving the Corps doesn't have to mean leaving Brad.

The writing--and I cannot stress this enough--IS SO FUCKING GOOD. I had a hell of a time picking a quote because I kind of just wanted to paste the whole thing. It's told with precisely the right amount of inner emotional intelligence and awareness...which is to say, not a lot, but enough so the reader gets everything they need. I'd read this again and again.

Any time Fick was in eye-shot, Brad was looking. The cant of Fick's hips or the turn of his mouth contained reams of information. He was a font of good, if mostly unactionable, intelligence. Postings on four continents and various stints at sea, and Fick was the most interesting thing Brad had ever laid eyes on. Still was, even in jeans and t-shirt propped up against his prototypically unremarkable American-made truck, choking down gas station food. Like most things Brad found interesting (a category spanning rip current, motorcycles, and howitzers) Fick was eminently capable of fucking him up beyond all recognition.

#generation kill #nikkirecs #5k-10k words #bradnate

[golden28s]

Totally optional, fun Gallavich questions ☀️🌙

thanks for tagging me to the coolest person @callivich 💖

What’s a fic you’ve read more than once? i havent read that many gallavich fanfics since i watched the show in like april BUT im loving Africa and ill probably read it once it's finished

What’s a gifset you always have to reblog? s7 gifsets are really person to me but also maybe s10 and s11 because they reached the peak of softness

What’s a headcanon you can’t stop thinking about? maybe that ian would tell mickey "i told you so" when they become parents and mickey turns out to be an absolute incredible dad that will play, sing, dance anything with his children.

What’s a fanart you love looking at? maybe @gallavichonly @heymrspatel and i accept recommendations btw id love to see more fanart

What’s an idea you’d love to create if you had the time/inspiration? id probably write like a series of one shots based on taylor swift songs

What’s something you’ve discovered since entering this fandom? A new trope you love? A different analysis of the show? Something else? i think that not judging characters, like always be aware of their circumstances and what made them do or say that and that might not justify them but it explains their thought process, it explains why and gives them some sort of humanity to their mistakes idk if this makes sense but yeah that, don't judge a character too soon, try to understand them.

What’s an underrated trope or concept you’d like to see more of? the secret dating, we know they secretly dated and stuff but i feel like it's actually a really fun concept to play with despite their circumstances in the show, it gives you so many possibilities.

What’s your favourite season? And has this changed after multiple rewatches of the show? the early seasons have special place in my heart, so s4-5 and i think gallavich totally saved s7, i love that part of the season

What’s a plot hole you wish had been answered or resolved? i would've loved to see ian healing from the grooming and realizing it was grooming, it would've been nice for the character to heal old wounds and start fresh a new life with mickey in a new neighborhood ready to create new memories

What scene or moment do you feel isn’t discussed enough? the just wondering if we're a couple or not scene, we definitely should discuss more the fact that mickey answered too quickly, he absolutely had been calling ian boyfriend in his head

What line/dialogue/description from something else (a poem, a book, a tv show, a movie, or something else) do you feel describes Ian and Mickey’s relationship? im gonna quote noel fisher and as he said: "Ian's been that kind of guiding angel for Mickey so he's going to have to turn into a pretty much kind of a protective angel for Ian"

What do you think is next for Ian and Mickey post-finale? i think they're gonna learn to communicate even more, they were in really good path already. i think the writers didn't have much faith in them in that aspect but the conversation they have in s11 about going back or not to the new neighborhood made evident that they can communicate, they listen to each other and understand the reasons, each other's feelings. so yeah, i think they're gonna get even better at that and also they're not gonna wait that much to become parents. i think they eventually will find new jobs, ian will have his tomatoes and mickey will adore looking at him doing his thing every sunday morning. i really really think they finally found their peace, their home and are gonna be very very happy and disgustingly in love forever because they're also hopeless romantic and want that so bad.

im gonna tag a few people and as always feel free to do it or not <3 @lupeloto @mikhailoisbaby @mickeysgaymom @redwiccanrobin @lyricailove @energievie @depressedstressedlemonzest @juliakayyy

#gallavich #shameless #tag game fandom

[killerandhealerqueen]

Asks time, let's go

Ask game for fic writers- 1, 3, 5, 16, 24, 28, 30, 37, 39, 44, 58, 72

Ask game for fic writers #2- 10, 15, 16, 30, 32, 38, 44

Fun meta asks - 3, 4, 7, 9, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21, 23, 25

Took, my beloved!! Alright y'all, buckle the fuck up, this shit gone be long

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

For some fics, yes, I do know how they're going to end when they start, but most times we're just kinda...figuring it out as we go. And sometimes that's the fun part because when just writing, you can sometimes come up with shit better than when you outlined/planned it

3. on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

I enjoy it. So like...an 8-9? Most of my stories are romance anyways so it's not that hard for me

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

Nope. I don't make playlists for my fics

16. where is your favorite place to write?

Well, I write anywhere, but my bed is always a good place. Things just tend to flow there

24. on average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

Depends on the fic. Sometimes I can get pages done, sometimes nothing. But on average, I'd say...1.5-2k? Sometimes more? Like I said, just depends

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

Typed. My hands cramp after writing for too long. And it's just easier to type if there's a lot of information

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you know" ~ A.A Milne

My parents say it to me a lot whenever I have imposter syndrome/am doubting myself. It helps a lot

37. when creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

Now, I don't create OC's, but personality, I think would come first for me. I always like characters who have personalities that don't match their appearance (and personalities are more interesting to work with anyways because they're shaped by backstory, motivation, etc.)

39. are you an avid reader?

I am! When I'm not reading fanfiction and I want to get away from the computer, I'll pick up a book. Sometimes if I'm really into one, I can crush one in a day/couple of hours. I've always been a voracious reader

44. any writing advice you want to share?

Just write what you enjoy. You're not writing to please anyone else but yourself (and maybe a few loyal readers). So like...don't write what's trendy or popular, write what makes you happy. It makes the fic much more enjoyable for you and for your readers

58. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

Hmm...I think for my fic The Tiger is Out, I had to google/duckduckgo the name of the poem the fic was inspired by because I couldn't remember it

72. what do you do if a scene gets too serious?

Oh boy, take a break. There are a lot of scenes in the Killer and Healer rewrite that make me cry/make my heart hurt so I have to take a break from writing it/do something else for a little bit to get a breather. I mean, I can push through (which I've done before) but you feel a little empty afterwards. Or I'll go talk with my discord chat and tell them what just happened to get my mind off the scene

ask game for fanfic writers | send me asks

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

Ooo, great question. Most times, if a story has gripped me by the throat, I'll keep working on it till it's completed. As for multi-chapters, sometimes I fall outta hyperfixation with them and I don't wanna work on them anymore, but then I also don't wanna leave them unfinished indefinitely (which is fine, of course but not for me) so I finish them (and I tend to feel better after I finish them, sometimes because I'm genuinely happy it's finished or sometimes I've relieved that it's over)

15. OCs or no OCs?

For me, no OCs, just because I don't need them in my stories. But more the merrier for others, y'all have fun creating your little guys

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Most of my fics started out as writing prompts, tbh. My Killer and Healer fics now are mostly my own ideas/aus...unless i'm feeling really uninspired. But I do still use sentence starters or other ideas to kind of spark something, if again, my brain can't figure out what it wants to write

30. What writing software do you use?

I use Microsoft Word and it's the only writing software I will ever use

32. Past or present tense?

Past, for the most part. Sometimes my headcanons will be in present but my fics are mainly in past

38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)

I do not, actually. I did NaNoWriMo in like...8th grade but nothing since

44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?

It does! For my fic Violence Is Never the Answer...Except When It Is, @a-single-log-bridge drew Chen Yuzhi with a katana! You can see the fanart here! (With this I am giving y'all permission to draw my fics, please god, draw my fics, I beg)

ask game for fanfic writers! ⌨️🖊📓📝 | send me asks

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Honestly, have no idea

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Gonna copy my scene from my other ask that I got about this question, hang on

From my fic My One and Only (Killer and Healer mignon/vampire au)

         “Jiang Yuelou” he breathed before he quickly knelt before him and cupped his face in his hands.          “Jiang Yuelou” he whispered.  Jiang Yuelou, however, didn’t answer, causing Chen Yuzhi to whimper before he reached out and carefully pulled him into his arms, hugging him gently but tightly.          “I’m sorry.  Jiang Yuelou, I’m so sorry.  I lied…everything that I said was a lie.  I’m sorry.  I love you.  I really, really love you.  So please…please don’t leave me” he begged as he clung to him and buried his face in his neck.          “Don’t leave me.  Please don’t leave me” he pleaded.  Jiang Yuelou, however, didn’t answer again, causing Chen Yuzhi to let out another whimper before he hugged him tighter.          “Please” he whispered, just as two strong, but gentle, arms came around him and hugged him back.          “I won’t” a weak voice whispered, causing Chen Yuzhi to gasp and lift his head out of Jiang Yuelou’s neck as he looked at him with wide eyes.          “Jiang Yuelou” he breathed as Jiang Yuelou slowly lifted his head and smiled at him.          “Chen Yuzhi” he replied, causing Chen Yuzhi to let out a sob before he buried his face in his shoulder and hugged him tightly, making him smile weakly as he gave him a tight squeeze in return.          “I’m here.  I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere” he whispered. 

I just really like this scene because while Chen Yuzhi does like Jiang Yuelou throughout the fic, he's never like...expressed/reciprocated his feelings to Jiang Yuelou, who has. And now in this moment, when he's afraid Jiang Yuelou is going to die, he confesses that he loves him. And who doesn't love that trope, huh?

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Um...someone's always gonna get whumped, I know that much. Also, descriptions/dialogue...I've always been told I'm good at those...as well as staying in character/characters feel like how they do in canon, no matter the au. So I guess that? Idk (I'm never good about answering questions about my personal writing style because I don't pay attention to that sort of thing)

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

Longfic. Always longfic, especially when it comes to Killer and Healer. I mean, look at my fucking word count on ao3. Do I look like a drabble writer to you? (No offense to anyone who does drabbles, just could not be me)

Most times, I am a pantser. I've learned that plotting kind of stifles my creativity. The only time "plotting" has worked for me is figuring out what's going to happen in each chapter of my fic The Demon and the Angel.

And no, I do not. I like writing my long fics and I like figuring stuff out on the go. That's what makes writing fun to me

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

They're each hard in their own way, but I guess personally titles. Summaries for me are easy because I just take like a line/passage out of my fic and use that as the summary. Tags can be tricky too because I wanna make sure I tag everything that I think is in my fic but sometimes I can't tag everything (though I do try)

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

At some point, I'm going to try a sci-fi fic, which I've never done before, so that'll be interesting. It's inspired by the Netflix Movie Rebel Moon and I think it'll be fun once I get around to it...and my brain stops plaguing me with other au ideas

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

My fic Monster Like Me had a completely different version before I decided I liked the current version better....but even getting to that version it took 3 rewrites, one complete deletion of the fic and original outline and a whole new rewrite to get to what it is today. And I have to say I like this version so much better than what it was originally. Did you know this fic took me almost a fucking month to write? That's the longest a oneshot has ever taken me. Ever

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Oh...I don't really have a lot of meta, at least not with the fic I'm currently working on. But with my Rebel Moon au, the idea actually came to me on my 7 hour plane ride home from Hawaii. I couldn't sleep at all nor did I play on my computer nor did I watch any movies...I just listened to music the entire time. And for most of the time, I listened to

on repeat. If you wanna read the rest of the story, I actually answered about the au over here

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Well, I write most of my stories like they're a movie/drama, so movie/drama would work, because I see my writing (or any writing for that matter) like it's a movie playing in my head

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

A Killer and Healer Howl's Moving Castle au. I've always loved Howl's Moving Castle and I think it would work great as a K&H au, but I just don't know a) which couple to use because it could work both ways and b) when I'm ever going to have time to write it (because I am plagued with other au ideas all the damn time)

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

Oh man, talking about fic ideas with your friends. Just gushing about how scenes would work/play out, who characters would be (if I'm inspiring a fic off of a drama/anime/movie/manga), what certain scenes will entail...stuff like that. That shit is fun. I mean, writing is fun too because you're taking what's in your brain and putting it on paper, but like...just brainstorming with your friends is fun

Fun meta asks for writers | send me asks

#sass answers #took 🐸 #ask game for fanfic writers #ask game for fanfic writers! ⌨️🖊📓📝 #fun meta asks for fic writers

[pandoa]

i miss being happy (summer 2022, writing a silly fanfic about a dramatic hunter quoting lines from titanic in my bathroom, when life was fun and carefree and i squealed over getting 2 likes bc i still didn’t really know how tumblr algorithm worked but i was happy regardless because it made me excited over the fact that someone in the world saw something i posted)

#oh woe is me #born to be a goofy writer on tumblr #forced to contribute to society #😔 #that one specific fic is where it all actually started #lolol

[witchercommentcrawl]

How to Leave Feedback on Fanfic

Since people were interested in how to leave detailed comments, here they are! Remember that even an I loved this will make a creator's day!

You are welcome to use this as a resource or ignore it, reblog it or send us an Ask if you'd like some specific help or ideas for writing a comment!

Contributed by @flightsfancy1

Table of Contents:

How to leave Feedback on Fanfic: Best Practices

What is a good comment? / What is a bad comment?

Basic/Intermediate/Advanced Feedback for Fanfic

Additional Reading

How to Leave Feedback on Fanfic: Best Practices

Fanfic feedback can be anything from “SQUEEEEEE!” to “FLAIL!” to insightful literary analysis. Most authors would say any (positive) response is better than nothing, so even if all you can manage is an emoji, kudos, or ‘like’, do it! 

However, if you want to leave more meaningful feedback, the section below offers feedback options geared at different levels of engagement. If you’re new to offering feedback, start with something basic and work your way up!

What is a good comment? / What is a bad comment?

There’s a section below on comment types and different ‘levels’ of feedback, but really: any positive comment is a good comment. Basic feedback (brief comments to let the author know you read and enjoyed the story) is just as ‘good’ as extended commentary, and much, much better than not commenting at all. 

However, a “bad” comment is anything that is critical of the story and/or the author’s choices. Again, if you disliked something about the story, you should not tell the author (unless specifically requested). 

Also, comments like, “Please post the next chapter!” or “Can’t wait for the update!” can sound flattering, but they do sometimes cause a writer extra stress, guilt and anxiety if they aren’t able to continue the story right away, or have been slower to update. While you can always let an author know you’re enjoying their work and want to read more, please avoid demanding an update (especially if the story has not been updated in several months). 

Remember: posting thoughtful in-depth reviews of chapters without asking for updates is far more likely to inspire and fuel a writer than just asking for “MORE!”

Feedback Options: Basic, Intermediate, Advanced

Basic Feedback

Brief comments are always appreciated. Examples: "❤" or “Loved this!” or “Thanks for writing!” 

A specific comment about one element you liked. Just pointing out something you enjoyed about the story is a great form of feedback. Examples: “I love the way you wrote Character X.” or “Your idea about ____ was really cool!” 

Quote/highlight something in the story that stood out to you. It might be your favourite sentence, the line of dialogue that made you laugh, or an event that you’ll probably be thinking about tomorrow. Examples: "“Geralt felt some hidden faultline in his heart crack open, releasing all the fear and tension he’d been carrying for the years they’d spent apart.”  ← This was a good line! It made me feel happy/sad/etc."

Tell the author why you enjoyed the story: was it the plot? The steamy sex scene? The picture the author painted in your mind? What inspired you to comment in the first place? Examples: "I loved this story because you really made me feel like I was in the Kaer Morhen hot springs. I loved the description of the old keep and its isolated mountain location!"

Intermediate Feedback:

Comment on the writer’s style or storytelling approach (specify why you like it): 

Examples: “Your writing is so descriptive/compelling/unique: you use such interesting vocabulary and really draw from a range of experiences to make your characters come alive!”

Identify specific literary elements (metaphors, allusions, intertextual references, all the stuff your English teacher desperately hopes you remember!) Examples: “I loved your metaphor about love being a rock slide, and alluded to it again when Character X felt like they were buried under “an avalanche of love” in the last chapter."

Share your interpretation of the story’s theme (what lesson did the characters learn?) Examples: "The central conflict between destiny and free will was reflected in Geralt’s decision in that last chapter to “love Jaskier because he wanted to please himself, for once.” I thought that was interesting because of his first line of dialogue in the story, when he explains that Witchers are “fated” to walk the Path and always be alone."

Advanced Feedback:

Go beyond basic observations about the characters/storytelling devices and try to articulate what you think the story is trying to say, and how it goes about saying it. 

Offer a more in-depth analysis of the theme, tone or structure of the story, with some quotes to illustrate ‘how’ and ‘what’ ties the section back to the greater whole.

Bring in the meta: how did the writer incorporate or resist certain fan tropes, characterizations or common metaphors? How does the story’s version of the characters/setting/plot match up with canon? 

What if I don’t know anything about writing? Or if I’m not familiar with the canon or character? Can I still comment?

Yes, absolutely! You do not need to be an expert to join in and comment on a fic! Even if you’re not a writer yourself, you are more than qualified (as a reader!) to explain what you liked, or how the story made you feel. Your feedback doesn’t have to be lengthy or too technical: any opinion you have, as long as it’s positive, will be welcomed by the author. 

Additional Reading:

LLF Comment Project by @longlivefeedback 

Your Guide To Reviews by @tsunderesasuke

“Can I Say This?” Culture, Comments, and Concern by @longlivefeedback 

A Brief Guide to Supporting Authors by @longlivefeedback 

Commenting on Fanfic: A How-to Guide by @littlethingwithfeathers

Some ideas for leaving good AO3 feedback by @bettsfic

Helpful 'Comment Starters' For Leaving Comments on Fics by @obversa

A Homestuck’s Guide to Fanfic Commenting Etiquette by @mercurialmalcontent

101 Comment Starters by @dawnfelagund

#witcher comment crawl #commenting 101 #mod: flightsfancy

[one-strugling-bean]

DSMP Fanfic Rec List because I’m bored Part 2

(IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE, DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT - even a simple "great work" or "this was a lot of fun" suffices, just  comment)

Happy Duo & Egg Lore (the fluffy and the saddy)

OrphanDuo + Skephalo AU by cawthelesbian 

Techno discovers the Skeppy cage and remembers Skeppy's claustrophobia, which leads him unable to keep his anger and disgust in check.

-

This series is what made me love these three dummies. Seriously, there's so much unexplored potential here.

I love how close Techno and Skeppy are, how much Techno cares for Skeppy despite how different they are, and that Skeppy is considered one of the few that have always been loyal to Techno. It's just sweet, ya know?

Adding Bad to this mix just makes it all that much better. Techno and Bad aren't very popular together, but I personally love imagining their possible interactions and how they view each other.

I loved getting Techno's pov on the Skephalo relationship as well - how Techno trusts Bad to take care of Skeppy because he's seen and been proven that they are that important to each other.

I can only wish this series gets continued at some point, or someone else picks up on the idea because I'd kill to see more of this concept.

___

What's a Skeppy? by 42starsintheuniverse

When he has the capacity to, Bad uses higher order thinking. In those times, he is well aware that the Skeppy is as much of an individual as he is. That it presumably managed for a long time before him, that it was good at surviving, and he’d come to learn, excellent at fighting and defending itself. The Skeppy is very capable. But Bad is nothing if not flawed, and one of his flaws is that he is very eager, and very happy when he finds things to collect. So he’d sort of... Unintentionally taken the Skeppy. It wasn’t a plan, exactly. He’d carried it home that first day and assumed it wanted to stay with him.

-

"For a long time, Bad thought all he would ever be was a Bad. But when a Bad finds a Skeppy, suddenly a Bad becomes... A happy." If this quote doesn't make you want to read the fic, I'm not sure you're okay, I'm sorry.

This fic is literally the cutest thing, istg. I dare you to try and find me something that's more wholesome.

Bad and Skeppy are both not-quite sentient creatures - Bad is a Nether demon, Skeppy is a diamond golem - who find each other by chance and just, connect and stick together and do shenanigans.

The genius of this fic for me is the "not-quite sentient" part. They're not people, they're creatures, and it shows. They remind me a lot of the dragons from HTTYD, as in they possess a higher order of thinking than a dog or a cat, while still being somewhere lower than a human. Does that make sense?

They can't communicate with each other the traditional way - aka, through speech - and so have to find ways to get around that, which is a trope I love.

Also also, this author is amaaaaaazing at writing Happy Duo, I very very much recommend checking out any of their other works - Flickering Flame and Your voice: The Sound of your Laughter are two of my faves, but really, all of them are more than worth a read.

___

My sunshine by Redbug

There's something wrong with the world around Bad, and reality isn't making any sense. No one is, and it's starting to eat away at his mind.

-

This series is pure pain and yearning. I'm not even trying to be funny, it simply is. Maybe it's because Bad and his "predicament" reminded me too much of a family member of mine, but this fic really just hit me like a truck out of nowhere.

I don't want to spoil much, but i love what the author did with Bad's backstory. Who he is, his connections with XD, how he got to have the life he does in the present. He's so tragic, it's painful to read all that suffering (but in a good way, because it's also beautiful??)

The way Rain cloud ended threw me for a loop a bit, but I think that might've been the point - it also made me cry actual tears, sooooo, there's that :p

But yeah, go read this right now if you feel like BBH-centric angst with lots of worried Skeppy, some functional Karlnapity, and a kind of confusing but still very envolving plot.

___

dripping with red gardenia by kirichin

A sardonic smile tugs his lips up as he watches the petals curl up, catch fire, and turn into ashes. He was sure there is a metaphor there somewhere, between his love and the pathetic flowers turning into ashes.

-

or Skeppy gets blessed with Hanahaki.

-

Happy Duo writers really do love their angst. And Hanahaki too, apparently.

Techno is MVP. He and Skeppy continue to warm my heart with their brotherly bond. Skeppy and Bad deserve all the hugs.

It's been a while since I last read this one, so I don't remember the plot too well, but I do remember I stayed up 'til 4am to finish it and I hate going to bed late, so I hope this speaks for itself on how engaging the fic is. Go read.

so this is love by Isi_Khan_3000

You’ve always been a clingy person – always had a hard time letting things go.

It’s not really all that surprising that that was your downfall.

OR, the Skeppy POV we all want and need (featuring some extra commentary from somewhen else.)

-

(Yes, I'm self-advocating, leave me alone.)

This was written immediately after the Egg Lore finale. It's basically my personal take on what Skeppy was up to while Bad was busy building himself a cult. It spans from his death by lava bath to him killing Bad after the Banquet.

It's sad, angsty, and full of my fave headcanons for their DSMP characters (which means lots of happy duo family). It is also my first try at writing 2nd person, so yeahhhhh, please give it a read, and feel free to yell at me in the comments.

Anyway, go check it out if it sounds interesting, please and thank you.

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #fanfic recs #badboyhalo #bbh #skeppy #happy duo #skephalo #the egg

[kireijae]

n.jm 23:25

summary: in which you're literally me and this is how i feel but i write a fanfic so jaemin can fix it:)

genre: angst, fluff, f2l, happy ending

a/n: hello surprise!!!! i JUST wrote this in like 30 minutes so please be kind! it was very healing i think mkay bye let me know if you enjoyed it!

—

jaemin was taken out of his scheduled (midnight) daydreaming by the chime of his phone. normally he wouldn't bother to answer, or even check the notification, but he glanced over.

he saw your name and unlocked his phone immediately.

jaemin enjoyed the fact that he knew you so well. he knew how you texted and what it meant. he knew your favourite restaurants and your favourite orders at each of them. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew you the way you knew him.

and so, he knew you'd been taking strain with your flatmate getting a boyfriend. it was a strange, new feeling to you. you were so happy for her. jimin deserved the world and had finally, finally found someone willing to give it to her. but, when would it be your turn? you'd longed for love for so long. you'd worked on yourself and felt truly ready for a partner to share your life with.

jaemin was not, in fact, out the door. not yet, anyway. he tugged on his shoes and a hoodie first– and grabbed one for you. he didn't like you driving when you were sad. you listened to sad songs and cried while driving, not the best for the whole being-able-to-see part of driving.

your apartment was only 10 minutes from jaemin's and those 10 minutes were spent on the phone with you.

"should i gather snacks?"

"yes. duh? of course, it's us," he answered, eyes locked on the road.

"oh my– we have ben and jerry's!" you squealed, and he could hear your little happy jumps.

jaemin smiled, "what flavour?"

"cookie dough!"

"fuck yes," he cheered.

"oh yeah, do you guys ha–"

"do you need coffee–"

said at the same time.

"that's what i was going to ask for," jaemin said, elated at your likemindedness.

"i know you," you beamed, and he could hear a smug tone in your voice.

you'd long ago accepted your connection with jaemin as fact. something not to be questioned or even surprised at anymore. your friendship ran deep, it was to be expected really.

but, selfishly, jaemin wanted more. he wanted to give you everything you wanted. he wanted to hold you in sorrow and in pleasure. he wanted to tease you like he does now, but be able to make up for it with a kiss and an 'i love you' that means something different than it does now. but he never said anything. he didn't want you to lose your closest companion.he didn't want to be that guy. you would never see him the same, he would never again be the person you needed.

"i'm outside."

"okay, on my way down."

you came out of the building soon enough, an overnight bag over your shoulder. and a shirt nowhere near adequate enough for the cold outside. jaemin scoffed and grabbed the spare hoodie. he jogged over to meet you at the door, taking your bag and plopping the hoodie over your form simply. he left the sleeves at your sides, leaving you in the fabric with your arms at your sides.

you pulled a face at his quick work, but shoved your arms into the sleeves anyway.

"i know you," he quoted cheekily and walked over to his car.

you childishly blew a raspberry at him, standing like a child in oversized hand-me-down clothes.

you got in the passenger seat and he drove you back to his place. you were crying by the end of the trip, taylor swift once again being the artist you chose to play in the car drive over.

you were laughing now though, with tear stained cheeks standing in the entryway to jaemin's apartment.

"this is ridiculous," you announced through your giggles.

"what is?" he asked, leading you to his room and putting your bag down on a chair.

"me. this situation," you said, "i just made myself cry to songs i can't even relate to. i'm a mess."

"a wonderful mess," jaemin corrects quickly.

"but a mess nonetheless," you countered.

"you need to stop listening to taylor swift," he said, "you're rhyming."

"you're right," you chuckle, settling onto the bed where jaemin had just situated himself. "i'm just so lonely."

jaemin could feel your need to talk, so he waited.

"do you think i deserve love?" you asked, eyes shining still.

he was baffled, "of course you do."

"i mean– do you think i might just be one of those people who never find a partner but are still happy and content with life alone?" you asked, "because i'm waiting for either of those scenarios but neither has happened and i'm starting to think neither will."

"i think the right person is out there," he said, he would tell you to wait, be patient, but he knows it won't help. especially when he knew he could end your wondering and pain right then, if you felt the same.

"i hope so," you wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

"you'll find your soulmate," he added, putting his arm around you, "you still believe in those, right?" he recalled a conversation over the phone about how your belief in the theory was dwindling.

"i do," you said, leaning into his chest, "i decided i have to or i'll go crazy. but, i'll stop believing if you don't find your soulmate."

he frowned and shook his head lightly in surprise. "what? why?"

"you're too great to not have someone out there waiting for you," you said simply, eyes wondering around the room you've been in hundreds of times.

jaemin felt his soul ache a bit more at that. the fact that you had no clue how close you were to someone who would give you anything you asked for at the drop of a hat. "i think someone's out there dying to love you the way you need."

you huffed, "and i'm dying to find them."

the boy's heart started beating faster than ever. he had the courage– or the momentary lapse in judgement– to do it.

"y/n," his voice didn't waver the way he thought it would.

"hmm?" you craned your neck to look up at him for the first time that night.

"i've been dying to do something for a while now," he confessed.

"what is it?" your face flickered with what in hindsight can be recognised as hope.

"can i kiss you?"

tears fell again, "please."

#jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #na jaemin imagines #jaemin timestamps #na jaemin timestamps #jaemin fluff #na jaemin fluff #jaemin x you #jaemin angst #na jaemin x you #na jaemin angst #jaemin scenarios #jaemin drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream texts

[blueberry-ovaries]

MISC. TAG GAME:

thank you for the tag @ronald-speirs, @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop and @grumpy-liebgott !!! sorry it took me so long!

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

oooh okay so recently i came back from europe, and i literally loved it so much! i oddly enough LOVED vatican city! and i absolutely adored venice and paris! however, london was also really nice! (i cannot decide i’m so sorry😭)

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

Honestly, going to University! Even when it’s hard and i hate it and have no idea what i’m doing, the fact i made it into university is something i’m very proud of!

Favourite books?

the picture of dorian gray - Oscar Wilde

a good girls guide to murder - Holly Jackson

5 survive - Holly Jackson

the outsiders - S.E Hinton

of mice and men - John Steinbeck

Something that makes your heart happy when you think about it?

my dog :) - his name is cisco and he was free to a good home and under fed, and now he gets treats every time we leave the house and sleeps on the bed

Favourite thing about your culture?

about being Australian? I would suppose our love for sport. We play so many sports over here and we support the aussies even if we don’t like the sport! For example the Matilda’s, our women’s soccer team! Soccer isn’t as big as AFL over here, but i’ve never seen so much support behind Womens soccer, let alone ANY soccer, as we’re very proud of our sporting teams!

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

close to two years ago? i’m not too sure, but i watched BoB first!

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

I have not! but i am trying to get my hands on the Dick Winters and Ron Speirs books!

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

Babe Heffron! and the “are you serious?! only the goddamn nuns call me Edward” BUT the scene with Gene in the fox hole where Babe mocks Gene calling him Babe is a very close second

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

i have been known to dabble in other fandoms on other apps in fanfic writing 🤭

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

ANDREW GARFIELD!!! and i am The Amazing spider-man enthusiast!!! (plus hacksaw ridge is a masterpiece)

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

Some quotes my dad likes to tell me when i’m really anxious over university/ actively having a panic attack are:

“you can only do what you can do” - which pretty much means that all i can do is my best, and the rest will sort itself out, there’s no use stressing over situations i have no control over.

“how do you eat an elephant?” - which basically means, to tackle something large you take it one step at a time, ergo - to eat an elephant you eat it piece by piece

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

Oh God, i’m not a very interesting person 🧍🏼‍♀️

I got swooped by birds in a century once and have hated birds ever since

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

i do not have a beta reader 🤭 so position is potentially open 🤭

Three things that make you smile?

- sunsets! i LOVE watching sunsets i just think they are so pretty!

- rainy days (only when i’m inside) But i love rainy days, when i can sit by a window to read or do homework etc. I just think there is something so beautiful about rain!

- chocolate chip cookies :) my FAVOURITE cookies! i do not care if they are basic i love them sm

Any nicknames you like?

most of my nicknames :) But especially the nicknames that my parents give me :))

List some people you love to see around on tumblr:

i’m so sorry if i forget anyone @malarkgirlypop @ronald-speirs @ronsparky @mads-nixon @panzershrike-pretz @executethyself35 @next-autopsy @winnielefou @1waveshortofashipwreck @footprintsinthesxnd @caffeinated-fan @dontirrigateme @softliebgott @xxluckystrike @easycompany123 (+ all my mutuals who i have not tagged, love y’all i just have shocking name recollection)

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

i mean it would depend on what kinda zombies?? But most likely keeping friends and family alive.

Realistically, dying. i’m not dealing with all that.

Favorite movie?

mulan!!! i LOVE mulan (clearly… i’m literally writing a fic with mulan ideas)

Do you like horror movies?

i got a live hate relationship with them. Like i HATE religious horror with a passion, it freaks me the fuck out, but the conjuring series has great story lines?? However i watched the nun once and i swear to god i almost shit myself whenever k had to leave my room at night?! I was CONVINCED that motherfucker was gonna be in my house.

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @mads-nixon @easycompany123 @executethyself35 @montied @ronsparky @dontirrigateme (plus everyone else who would like to do this! consider this an offical tag!)

#madsasks #madsrambles #blueasks #bluerambles #band of brothers #babe heffron #ronald speirs #bandofbrothers #dick winters #eugene roe #george luz #hbowar #band of brothers #donald malarkey

[thesweetnessofspring]

do you hate the idea of platonic everthorne or just romantic?

First, romantic Everthorne is really not my thing, but ship and let ship.

So I don't hate the idea of platonic Everthorne, like in fanfic settings and whatnot. In fact, despite what I'm going to say, I'm trying to write one of those right now! I get the appeal of them being platonic besties, but I don't think it's platonic in canon. It's a one-sided workplace romance. I'm putting my reasoning below a cut if you don't feel like reading borderline Gale-slander.

Before people throw quotes in my face, I'm aware Katniss calls Gale her best friend and we see her anger about his whipping and that they work well together as hunters. I'm not denying any of that.

What I think is that Katniss and Gale bonded through their similar trauma which is why they hang around each other and know each other, but they're more like coworkers than friends. Katniss even talks about this when she describes her relationship with him. They "grudgingly" shared knowledge and tools and resources. Their relationship is entirely transactional: they do better for their families when they work together, which is why they even start hanging out. Even promising to take care of each other's families should one of them be reaped is transactional, as they are also ensuring safety for their family by making their promise. In fact, with all of the slips Gale has, he was more likely to need to cash that out! Everything about their relationship reads entirely contractual to me. Very business. When Katniss comes back from the Games having played the romantic angle with Peeta, in CF Gale acts as if she's broken an agreement they made, what with him getting so pissy she wants to save Peeta and Haymitch from torture/death from her running away.

That's not to say they have no positive interactions--they do. But even at their most positive, such as the story of how Katniss got Lady, Gale's just kinda there. Katniss's focus and attention is entirely on making Prim happy, helping their family survive. Or before the reaping, they're already arguing about having kids and it's weird how much they rile each other up over something that's such a personal choice (of course, to Gale at this point it's not so individual as he has feelings for her). Basically, it reminds me of coworkers who get along and help pass the time, even help each other when there's a bad boss or angry customer or whatever. And they clearly know how to hunt together and know one another's thoughts. Then one of them caught feelings due to their consistent proximity to each other and wants it to move in a romantic direction. But at the end of the day they're going to drift apart once those things holding them together is gone--aka, feeding their families, the Capitol, and the war.

It's also hard for me to see platonic connections when Gale has said that dying for Katniss is the only way to "convince" Katniss that you love her. I see everything he does with this lens of convincing Katniss to be with him, to choose him. Anything that might seem platonic has a weird overlay of this motivation of trying to win her over. And since that's not how romantic relationships work, it doesn't work on a romantic or a platonic level. Everything a friendship should be to be a real, genuine friendship isn't there between them.

I don't see Gale as a safe person for Katniss emotionally because he's usually forcing his opinion on her, guilting her, or again, I can't trust he's not trying a new tactic to win her over by appealing to seeing him as a hero (like going to rescue Peeta). I don't see them having fun together--without needing to hunt, really, what would they do together? What would a fun date look like for them? I don't see their principles aligning in Mockingjay and that's a really obvious point Suzanne was trying to make. Basically, I don't see what they're supposed to build a friendship on other than they both lost their dads and have to feed their families.

They're coworkers. They're just coworkers.

#anon ask

[elliesmistress]

THE QUOTE BOOK ✨

For clarification I am bungi, bunjil or bunji depending on how you wanna spell it

RULES:

if you have something you want to add to the quote book, DM me OR reply to this post with the date it happened-

Blue banner means it's a different day

Red banner means it's been said in the same day

30/07/2022

"You're sober this time?" - Kenji

"WHAT?" - Bunji

"I- I- Anyways" - Bunjil

"I preferred you when you're not" - Kam

"It's either crying Bunji or screaming Bunji" - Kenji

01/09/2022

"Your mums a pornstar" - Bungi

Laughs "You are? Wait you are?" - Kam

"I just made you question my entire life" - Bungi

"Your mums a whore actually" - Bungi

"That's ok, your daughter is too" - Kam

*Laughs awkwardly*

"Wait, are you actually?" - Bunji

"No" - Kam

"Oh, was gonna say. That's sometimes how I make my money but nevermind" - Bungi

"Bunji" - Kam

"All of that has to go in the quote book" - Kam

*Laughs* "even better I was recording this entire conversation" - Bunji

"Do you sleep on your stomach?" - Bunji

"No, it crushes my ribs" - Kam

"Can I?" - Bunji

"No" - Kam

"I'm great at riding" - Ramen

"I'm really happy for you" - Bunji

"Thank you" - Ramen

"Can I get one to?" - Bunji

"Only if you ask nicely" - Ramen

"Can I please have a ride?" - Bunji

"I don't know why that was so funny" - Ramen

"I love how I make people so uncomfortable" - Bunji

25/03/2023

"I need to get laid so we can actually do this" - friend

"no, don't get laid, get railed" - Bunji

-----------------------------------------–--------

27/04/2023

"My birthday present to you is a vibrator" - Jay (awe thanks Jay I always wanted one)

Sometime last year

"I wanna get stoned and force myself to watch Joel's death because I wanna experience what she experienced"

@allmyfavoritecolours in the background trying to process this and the fact idk what raj raj is (idk how to spell it fucking come for me bitch)

*processed to watch Joel's death whilst high and continues to laugh and find it funny*

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

18/12/2023

"do you feel okay bro" - me

"Penis" - a very stoned Ellie

20/12/2023

"your a faggot" - me

"You specialise in coachie" -my brother

"You specialise in fingering" - my brother

"Dina, looks like if the three main characters from ratatouille had a baby" Paloma

"So your saying she's ugly?" Me

"Yes" Paloma

23/02/2024

@allmyfavoritecolours

"yeah maybe don't get that t shirt" Birdie

"I'll wear it when I do sessions with my therapist so she stops giving me a hard time" Me

"She'll write down in her notes 'traumatized'" Birdie

"Daddy issues" me

"But god damn, in fanfic when Ellie is angry like daddy get over here and rip my shirt off 😍" me - 23rd of FEB

17/03/2024

"How do you make no sense and so much sense at the same time?" - 18th of March, my lovely brother

18/03/2024

@littlegingerperson5

"A giraffe is just a gay horse" Lenny

2nd of April/24

"she was pretty much like you when she was your age, except she was pregnant" - Lene

*laughs uncontrollably*

"Are you pregnant?" Lene

"No, I hope not" me

"I hope you are, your baby would be cute af. I don't care who you do it with it would be cute" Lene

"when you laugh, it sounds like you're orgasming" Lene

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams x you #quote blog #quoteoftheday #book quote #life quotes #don't smoke kids

[drabbles-mc]

When You Love It

Happy Lowman & Daughter!OFC (Diedra Lowman)

Inspired by the quotes from This Post

Warnings: 18+, angst, blood, murder, implied/referenced physical assault

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I have so many thoughts and feelings about these two, and about Diedra in general. I feel like I get in my own way trying to wait and think of some big overarching longfic for my ocs when really I should just get more comfortable writing down the ideas I have for them and posting them. If things end up connecting down the road, great! If not, that's great too! This is definitely more of an origin story type of thing lol. I was originally going to add more to this one-shot but I didn't want it to feel forced so I just left it as-is. Hopefully there will be more Lowman Sister stuff in the future!

SOA Taglist: @withmyteeth @garbinge @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @meadowofsinfulthoughts @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @nessamc @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

She still remembered the first time that she had to help patch Happy up. It wasn’t the type of thing that someone forgot, even though she was young when it happened. Despite the fact that she was only eleven at the time, even so many years later she could still vividly remember the sound of the front door slamming shut in the middle of the night. It had been loud enough to stir her from her sleep, but not her younger sister, who was still peacefully slumbering on the opposite side of the room.

She’d tip-toed out of their room and down the hall until she reached the staircase. She could hear heavy footfalls and the clattering of things in the kitchen. She assumed that it was her dad, but there was no way to be sure unless she went downstairs and checked it out for herself. And what if she was wrong? He always told her not to put herself into situations that she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of.

The footsteps got louder and she gasped as she went to turn and scramble back to her room. She didn’t even make it so that she was standing all the way upright before she heard his tired, currently strained voice from the bottom of the staircase.

“Di? That you?”

She stopped in her tracks, feeling nervous as she descended a few of the stairs. Her bare feet made almost no sound as she stepped, unlike her father’s. Her voice came out as a timid whisper, afraid that she was going to get in trouble for being up so late, for sneaking around the house. “Yes.”

He let out a sigh of relief as he leaned against the banister at the bottom of the stairs. Reaching over, he flipped the switch that turned on the singular light that hung over the staircase. He ignored the wide-eyed look that he got from his daughter when she saw the shape he was in.

“You know where I keep the first aid kit?” he asked her.

She nodded, and shot right back up the stairs without another word. She all but ran down the hall to the bathroom. Kneeling down, she opened the doors to the cabinet underneath their sink and grabbed the red and white plastic box that was sitting there with various other bottles of soap and other miscellaneous items. She tucked it underneath her arm before shutting the cabinet and making her way back towards the stairs.

When she reached the stairs, he wasn’t there anymore. She watched her step as she tried to go as quickly as possible down the hardwood steps without slipping and falling. When she reached the bottom and rounded the corner, she saw him sitting in his recliner. He was leaned back, practically disappearing into it in the darkness. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. There was the same frown on his face that she had gotten so accustomed to.

He didn’t open his eyes when she stopped in front of him. She waited for a few seconds, and when he didn’t move or say anything, she cleared her throat to get his attention. His expression didn’t change except for the fact that he opened his eyes. She held out the kit to him.

“Here.” Her voice was still soft, still scared.

He groaned slightly as he sat upright. “Gonna need your help.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Grandma’s been teaching you and your sister to sew, right?”

She gave a slow nod. “I’m not good at it, though.”

“You’re good enough.”

She knew better than to argue, so she just nodded. Unsure of what she was supposed to do now, she stood there and watched as he slowly shrugged his kutte off his shoulders and draped it over the arm of the recliner. Next, he reached, both hands gripping the collar of his t-shirt before he pulled it off over his head. The tiniest groan managed to get past his gritted teeth as he slipped the blood-stained fabric off and dropped it to the floor.

If Diedra had looked startled at the cuts on his face, the gash going across the left side of his abdomen left her frozen. Her hands trembled as she clutched the first aid kid. In the back of his mind, Happy knew that it wasn’t right or fair to put this on her, but he didn’t have much of another option at this point. He wasn’t going to his mom, not with this. And hospitals were out of the question. So, here he was, relying on his young daughter’s rudimentary sewing skills to patch him up.

“Go turn the light on,” he nodded towards the switch for the living room.

“What if I—”

“It’s gonna be fine.” He didn’t quite snap, but there was more of an edge to his voice than there usually was. He knew it was the pain that was making him sound that way. He just hoped that his daughter knew it too.

Diedra did as he asked, scurrying over to switch on the light before walking back over. She stared where his skin was torn—the bleeding still hadn’t stopped. She hadn’t even opened the first aid kit yet. Her hands were still trembling a fair amount as she stared at him.

“You’re still bleeding,” she said softly.

“It’ll stop,” he said matter-of-factly.

He leaned, ignoring the pain in his side as he did, so that he could reach and open the first aid kit. He grabbed the medical wipes and hastily cleaned the area by the wound. He cleaned it up enough so that Diedra would be able to stitch it with relative ease. She was right in saying that he was still bleeding, but the bleeding had slowed down considerably since it happened.

“Dad, I—”

“Please, Di.”

He laid down on the couch and Diedra sat down on the edge of the coffee table, the open first aid kit sitting in her lap. He gave her step-by-step instructions, trying to be as reassuring as he could manage given the circumstances. He was thankful that she probably had too much on her mind to look at or think about the numerous smiley faces tattooed into his opposite side. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing to her, the little girl sitting there in her oversized pajama t-shirt and pants that were covered in horses. Her hair was still messy from sleep, her eyes somehow simultaneously tired and frantic. This wasn’t the job for a child but there she was anyway.

She had tears in her eyes the whole time, her fingers fumbling every so often, but she kept on trying to muddle through. Happy nodded in approval and grit his teeth through the pain as she worked. No matter how long it took, it was still better than bleed out, and it was better than sitting in a jail cell.

“Alright,” he nodded back towards the kit when she had finally finished sewing him back together, “now just get the scissors and cut it.”

Her fingers trembled as she made the final cut. Happy’s head dropped back against the couch cushion as he let out a sigh of relief. His arm dangled off the edge of the couch, fingers brushing against the hardwood floor. He was staring silently up at the ceiling as his daughter sat there staring at him.

“What happened?” she asked as she stared at her handiwork.

“Got into a fight.”

“With who?” There was a slight tremor to her voice, like she knew that she wasn’t supposed to be asking him that question. That was one of the rules—no questions about dad’s work or about dad’s club.

“Bad guys,” he answered shortly. He didn’t say anything else for a minute but he felt her staring at him. Turning his head to look at her, he said, “Go put the kit away and get back to sleep.”

“Dad—”

“Go to bed, Di,” his voice was firmer this time. “Try not to wake up your sister.”

Her voice was quiet, defeated, “O-okay.”

He watched as she closed the kit and started to head back to the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, he spoke up again. “Hey.” He waited for her to look over at him, exhaustion and fear etched into her innocent little face. “Thanks, kid.”

She didn’t sound any more reassured or confident than before as she said, “You’re welcome.”

She went to the bathroom to put the first aid kit away. She tucked it back underneath the sink the exact same way that she’d found it. Standing back up, she turned the hot water on in the sink so that she could wash her hands. She scrubbed hard, trying to get all of her father’s blood off of her palms and fingertips. She didn’t even understand how it had gotten onto the backs of her hands too, but it did. She kept applying more soap and scrubbing over and over again until the water ran clear, until her tanned skin was free of any red.

When she got back to the bedroom that she shared with her little sister, she didn’t know if she wanted to go inside. She didn’t know what else to do, though. So, she quietly stepped past the threshold and padded quietly over to her sister’s bed. Her baby sister could sleep through anything, so she hardly stirred at all as Diedra scrambled into bed next to her, pulling the blanket up over both of them before trying to go back to sleep.

She also remembered the first time Happy had needed to help patch her up. She was fifteen, and by that point it had been about five years of her playing emergency doctor for her father whenever he got too banged up doing whatever it was that he did for the club, the number of smiley faces on his side steadily increasing but neither of them said anything about it. They still weren’t allowed to ask questions, but Diedra knew a little more than her sister. It was only fair since she was the one mastering the use of the first aid kit. Her stitching had gotten a lot better since that first night, although Happy still had the messy scar on his abdomen from the first one, a scar that he hadn’t gotten tatted over.

But now he was the one who needed to help Diedra with her mess. When he got the call, the thought crossed his mind that maybe if he hadn’t put so much on her over the years, that she would have normal teenage girl problems. He’d wondered over the last year or so if it was going to be a problem. The few fights that she’d gotten into at school always getting more out of hand than they would for a typical fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl. Sure, Happy taught both of his girls how to keep themselves safe if they had to, but these had been more than that. He wondered if it had been his fault.

Then, as he listened to the shake in Diedra’s voice as she spoke to him via the payphone she walked by every day on her way home from school, he couldn’t help but to think that it was too late for him to fix any of it.

“I don’t know what to do,” she told him honestly.

He didn’t have to see her to know that she was crying. “Stay put. I’ll be there soon.”

“Dad, I’m not, I can’t,” she tried to get a sentence out, “People can’t see me like this.”

His brain was running at a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to tell her. He didn’t know what she looked like, but she was smart, smart enough that he knew that she wasn’t worrying for nothing.

“Go to the bathroom behind the gas station. I’ll be there in ten.”

“What if—”

“Don’t open the door.”

For a split second, she had the same soft, scared voice of the eleven-year-old girl who had to stitch up her father’s stab wound in the middle of the night. “Okay.”

Happy tore down the streets on his bike. Speed limits and cops be damned, no one was going to slow him down now. He practically skidded to a stop in front of the bathroom door. Tearing his helmet off, he jumped off the bike and quickly strode over to the door. He jimmied the handle and found it locked. He let out a sigh of relief at that before knocking.

“It’s me.”

Seconds later the door unlocked from inside. Diedra pulled the door open a crack. Her eyes were red and watery, her ponytail almost completely fallen out with her hair sticking out in multiple directions. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to fix it as she paced inside the cramped, smelly, gas station bathroom.

Happy pressed his hand against the door to push it farther. “Open up. It’s just me.”

She did as he said. Pulling the door open farther, Happy was able to really see her. And he immediately understood why she didn’t want anyone else to see her. The white tank top that she had on had rusty red smears all over, splatter marks across her chest. There were a few flecks of blood on her face, too, along with tearstains. The most concerning thing, though, was the bruising that he could see around her throat. It took all of a split second for him to know that the bruises would match up with the shape of someone’s hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I don’t…I don’t…”

“Where are they?”

She nodded in the direction that she’d come from. “Back there. I don’t…I don’t think he’s…”

Happy didn’t say anything to her in response to that. Turning around, he went and grabbed a sweatshirt from the bag on his bike. It was old and ratty, but it would cover up the blood-stained tank top that she was wearing. He held it out to her without saying anything, and she took it from him silently as well. She pulled it over her head, letting the hood stay flipped up. When her hands came out the bottom of the sleeves, he saw the blood all over them, too.

“Any of it yours?” he asked her. She shook her head but wasn’t able to verbalize an answer. That was enough for Happy, though. He pulled his phone from his kutte and quickly dialed. He held it to his ear, not taking his eyes off of Diedra as the phone rang. The second there was an answer on the other end of the line, he started talking. “Hey, Mom. I need you to get Kota. Yea, she’s at the house.” He paused, waiting for the questions to stop. “No, I’ve got Di. We’re fine. Yea. I’ll get her tomorrow. Love you.” He snapped the phone shut before shoving it back into his kutte again. “Let’s get you home.”

“What about—”

“I’ll take care of it. Come on.” He reached, taking her by the elbow, his grip simultaneously firm and gentle as he brought her back to his bike.

He reached up, pushing the hood back down off her head. He grabbed his helmet, putting it on her and tightening the strap on it before clipping it beneath her chin. Neither of them said anything as they looked at each other. He was trying to figure out if she was on the brink of losing it, and she was looking at him hoping that he would give her any kind of reassurance that she was going to be okay.

Without another word, he climbed back onto his bike and motioned for him to get on behind him. She did, her arms wrapping around him. He couldn’t help but to notice that she was squeezing herself much tighter to him than she usually did. Both his kids were comfortable on the back of a bike—it was just the nature of being his daughters. But he could feel the extra layer of fear between them.

The first thing he said to her when they walked through the door was, “You need to go shower.”

She sniffled, nodding as she wiped at her eyes. “Right.” She felt the way her tank top was stuck to her skin, still tacky with blood. “What about my…” her voice trailed off as she pulled at the fabric of the hoodie.

“I’ll get rid of them.” He paused. “Toss them outside the bathroom door before you get in the shower.”

“Okay.”

He nodded towards the stairs. “Go. I’ll be back before you’re done.”

“You’re leaving?” panic saturated her voice.

“Just to clean up. Then I’ll be back.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Before you’re done. Promise.”

She didn’t have anything left in her to fight about it, so she just nodded and made her way up the stairs. Happy watched until she was out of sight, and only then did he sigh, his shoulders sagging in defeat. They would talk about it when he got back. Until then, his mind was just going to race with all of the worst-case scenarios. It wasn’t the time to push her about it, though. Right now, the main concern for both of them was cleaning up.

The second he heard the shower start, he went back out of the house and immediately made his way for the pickup truck. He jumped in and peeled out of his driveway, right back the way that they’d just come on the bike. There was no guarantee that the guy was dead, that he would still be there, that the cops or some random bystander hadn’t already come across him. But judging by the state that Diedra was in, wherever the two of them were, it hadn’t been a high-traffic area.

He would do the real work, the actual cleanup, tomorrow. But he cleaned the mess up enough to buy him enough time to spend the night at home with his daughter. He knew how to get rid of bodies. The rest of this mess, though, that was new territory for him.

True to his word, he was back before she’d stepped out of the bathroom. The water wasn’t running anymore, but the bloody clothes were still in a heap outside the bathroom door. Happy grabbed them, immediately heading towards the back yard, for the fire pit.

He was poking what little was left of the charred fabric with a stick, mixing it with the branches and lawn clippings that were also in the fire pit with it. Diedra silently materialized beside him, wearing a pair of her own sweatpants but still wearing the sweatshirt that Happy had given her earlier. Her hair was just dry enough to not be dripping, the long waves coming over her shoulders and peeking out from under the hood that she had flipped up. He could still see the bruises through her damp locks of hair. He knew that she could still feel them, too.

Her eyes were fixed on the flames when Happy turned to look at her. He studied her face intently, but he couldn’t get much from her expression. Moments like that reminded him how much Lowman she really had in her. It was harder to see with her sister—she took more after their mother which was a different kind of heartbreak. But Diedra seemed like she was more than just 50% Happy. Maybe it was because he had been pulling her into the mess of the other side of his life for years now. But as she stood there, glassy-eyed but otherwise stone-faced, it felt like they could’ve almost been the same person.

“What’d you do with him?” she finally asked, still not looking at him as she tucked her hands into the pocket that went across the front of Happy’s sweatshirt.

“Took care of it.”

“That easy?” she asked, her voice weak.

“More to do tomorrow,” he told her honestly. “But for now, it’s taken care of.” He waited for her to ask or say something else. When she didn’t, he said, “Your turn.”

She turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised slightly but she didn’t say a word. He could see the confusion on her face at his statement.

“What’d you do with him?” he rephrased.

Her scoff turned into a sob, a sound that sent a shot of pain through her as it rattled against the inside of her bruised throat. “You saw.”

“You gonna tell me what happened?” He saw her bottom lip start to quiver. “You know who he was?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “Not,” she wiped at her eyes, “not really. He was always around when I would walk home from school. He’d say weird shit to me sometimes.”

“Your sister ever see him?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. He only ever said anything to me when I was alone, though. I never…I never said anything back to him. Even when I wanted to tell him to just—" she stopped herself as she shook her head.

“What happened?”

She was watching the last of her tank top and jeans finally crumble into nothing but ashes. “He came up to me. Followed me. I was, I was ignoring him the way I always did. Then he grabbed me, pulled me into that alley. He was gonna try to—” she sobbed, unable to finish the sentence.

Happy was already seeing red, fighting to keep what little composure he still had for the sake of his daughter. “What did he do, Di?”

She shook her head, angrily wiping at the tears on her face. “Nothing. I mean, he, you know,” she motioned towards her neck, “but nothing else. He didn’t get the chance to.” She dragged her hands down her face. “I keep that knife on me. The one you gave me—tuck it on the inside of my jeans like you told me. I forgot about it at first, because of everything. But then, when I thought I was gonna…” her voice trailed off for a moment, “I remembered.”

“Anyone around?” He was asking for her sake as much as his own. He didn’t want anyone to have seen her. No witnesses was better because of how it’d played out. But if someone had seen what happened and didn’t step in, didn’t say anything, there was going to be more than just one body for Happy to take care of the next day.

“I don’t think so. The way I walk home is usually pretty dead. That’s why I go that way.” She paused, finally turning so that she was looking Happy in the eyes. “What are you going to do with him?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Dad…” She stared at him until he leveled with her gaze again. “What are you going to do?”

He nodded towards the fire. “Same thing I did with your clothes. Burn him. Bury whatever is left when it’s done.”

“Where?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I ki—” she couldn’t force the word out, so she rerouted, “I did this. You need to tell me.”

He mulled that over for a long time. He was just trying to protect her, although it felt too late to try and do that now. It felt like he’d already failed. He didn’t want to pull her even deeper into it though—she’d been through enough. But, if he had been in her position, he would want to know too. The problem was, that he didn’t want her to be him. He wanted her to be different, better.

“Do you want to go with me?” he asked against all better judgment. He saw the way Di froze, thinking over her answer. “We can go tonight after it gets dark.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod, her voice not sounding as small as it had before.

It was pitch black in the woods except for the warm light being given off by the flames in the shallow grave that Happy and Di were standing next to. Diedra was still in her sweatpants and Happy’s hoodie. Happy had left his kutte at home, opting for a plain black sweatshirt instead. They each stood there, watching the flames with their hands shoved into their pockets. Neither of them had said anything the entire time, not since they got into his pickup truck at the house.

“What now?” Di asked, speaking just loud enough over the crackling of the flames.

“Wait for it to burn out. Fill it back in and—”

“No,” she cut him off, “I mean, what do we do now?” She finally turned and looked at him, tearstains on her cheeks contrasting the hardened look in her eyes.

“Everything is gonna be the same,” Happy said, tone as neutral as it had ever been, “but it’s all gonna feel different.”

“Worse?”

“Different.”

She nodded, accepting that answer for the time being. She sighed, tucking her chin down towards her chest. If they’d been different people, Happy would’ve draped his arm around her and pulled her close. She would’ve folded into him and cried. However, they weren’t different people. Happy took a half-step closer to her so that the outside of his arm was pressed against the outside of hers, giving her a barely-perceptible nudge, a gesture that she returned.

Neither of them said anything else after that, not for the whole ride home. It wasn’t until they were getting ready to head to bed, not that either of them were going to sleep, that Happy spoke up and said something. He asked if she wanted to spend the night somewhere else, and when she said no, he kissed her forehead, said I love you, and sent her off to bed.

Since she couldn’t sleep that night, Di stayed up until the grey light of dawn started peeking through her bedroom window, giving herself a small, scratchy stick-n-poke tattoo on her hip in the shape of a smiley face.

#sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #happy lowman fanfiction #oc diedra lowman #oc diedra #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #happy lowman

[thesleepy1]

The Sniffling Tiger

A/N: I have loads of things that I should be doing. Am I doing those things though? No. No I am not. Instead of getting work done, I am writing a fanfic. :D This one is another incorrect quote by the lovely @devil_in_westwood on instagram.  

Pairings: Sebastian Moran x Jim Moriarty

Summary: Sebastian is taken by the Virgin and his Soldier. All that he can hope for is a swift death before Jim finds out that he’s gone.  

Or, 

“Sherlock: Where’s your owner. 

Sebastian: I aint’ tell you SHI—wait what you call him?

Sherlock: *to john* After all the blows to the head he must be losing his hearing… Your OWNER, Colonel where is he? 

Sebastian: Oh fuck you virgin, I heard what you said. But he’s my Boss not my owner. 

John: Tell that to the GPS microchip in your neck.” 

Word count: 924

Warnings: Violence, possessive!Jim, dark!Jim, brief mentions of torture, brief mentions of water boarding, language,

Sebastian was going to catch a cold. He just knew it. He should’ve put on the jumper that Jim had been nagging him about. But he had wanted to be a brat and now he was paying for it. 

The sniper didn’t actually think that Sherlock was going to waterboard him. He thought that it was an empty threat. The pale, lanky man looked like a swift breeze would blow him over, let alone be capable of torturing anyone. If anyone was going to draw blood, Sebastian had thought that it would be Johnny boy. 

Boy was he wrong. 

The dirty water was soaked into his clothes, clinging to his skin. His hair was damp. His gooseflesh had gooseflesh. A draft from an open window made him shiver. Sebastian hated that he knew his skin would be flushed red right now. The cut on his lip wasn’t helping his appearance either.

Suffice to say, Sebastian wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants in the future. 

“Where’s your owner?” That came from Sherlock. The man was in his signature overcoat, a scarf snuggly tied around his long neck. 

“I ain’t telling you SHI—wait what did you call him?” 

Sherlock turned to look at his soldier. “After all the blows to the head he must be losing his hearing…” His head turned on a swivel back to Sebastian. Blue-green eyes glared down. “Your OWNER, Colonel, where is he?” 

Sebastian spat venom, “Oh fuck you virgin, I heard what you said. But he’s my boss, not my owner.” 

John gripped Sebastian’s sandy hair in a vice. He tugged Sebastian’s head back, exposing his neck. “Tell that to the GPS microchip in your neck.” 

Sebastian laughed at a punchline only he knew. It wasn’t the happy kind of laugh either. It came with thick mucus and sniffling snot. “Jim likes to keep track of his assets. I’m not a fucking dog, I’m a weapon he doesn’t like being misplaced.” Sebastian laughed again, his voice rough. “A dog would get better treatment.” 

“Oh I bet you get treated just fine,” Sherlock said with a condescending tone. “You probably get to sleep at the foot of his bed if you behave, don’t you?” 

Sebastian tensed up, wrenching his head out of John’s grip and glaring at the floor. His breaths were coming in heavy. “Fuck you. You know nothing about me.” Sebastian was going to break his hands to get out of his bindings if he had to. He really did not want to be here. 

“But I do, Colonel Moran. Or…what was it Jim called you again? Panther? Lion…? Ah, something with patterns.” Sherlock held his chin as if deep in thought. He had a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “That’s right. Tiger.” 

“Shut up!” Sebastian snarled. “You have no right to use that name.” 

“Well if you prefer pussy cat, I can call you that too,” John added with a smirk of his own. 

“Tiger’s a much better fitting name for him. You should see his lovely strips sometime…” Jim said in a singsong voice. “Then again, I’d have to kill you after. His strips are for my eyes only.” The gun pressed to John’s head was for theatrics, but the present audience didn’t know that. 

They could all hear when the safety was off. 

“Sherlock,” Jim sang. “You know better than to take away my toys. I wasn’t done playing with him just yet.” 

“Kill John and I will stop at nothing to end you,” Sherlock threatened. Everyone present knew he meant it too. 

“Take away my tiger again and we’ll see what I’m capable of. You’ve seen nothing, Sherlock. NOTHING.” 

Sherlock seemed to debate the odds in his head for a second. All was quiet. 

“Fine…Take him and leave. No one has to get hurt.” 

“He’s bleeding, Sherlock. You’ve already broken my toy.” 

Sherlock gestured to his own lips. “Do the same to me. Then we’re ev—” 

Jim took the opening before Sherlock was even finished. Only Jim didn’t aim for the mouth like offered. He went for Sherlock’s nose. He felt his knuckles ache, knowing with certainty that he broke bone. 

“Now we’re even.” 

***** 

Sebastian couldn’t stop sneezing as he got off the elevator. He was definitely sick.Which made an already shitty day worse. Jim didn’t like anything to do with germs, let alone spend time with someone with the flu. He was going to make Sebastian sleep on the couch or have him stay at a shabby safe house with no heating. 

Sebastian hugged his arms to conserve what little heat that he could. “Thanks for getting me, boss.” He coughed, the action causing more pain than it was worth. “Let me get some warmer clothes and then I’ll head out.” 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“To a safe house…? Cause I’m sick?” 

Jim pressed his lips together into a straight line. He had never looked so visibly angry, “If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight then Sherlock must’ve hit you harder over the head than I thought. 

“B-but I-I,” Sebastian stumbled at a loss for words. “But I’m sick? 

“All the more reason for you to stay close to me. You can’t defend yourself in this state.” Jim pointed into the direction of the bathroom. “Go. I’m running you a bath.” 

“Really?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the hopeful smile off his face. 

“Don’t look so happy. The minions will accuse me of abusing my pets. Don’t make me change my mind.” 

Sebastian never ran so fast.

#sebastian moran #bbc sebastian moran #sebastian moran bbc #sebastian x jim #jim x sebastian #mormor #incorrect mormor quotes #mormor au #mormor fluff #mormor incorrect quotes #james moriarty #jim moriarty #john h watson #bbc sherlock #sherlock x john #sherlock bbc #sherlock fandom #incorrect sherlock quotes #sherlock #sherlock and john #johnlock #sherlockbbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sick fic

[gallifreyshawkeye]

Intro for anyone new, Hiya/Update for anyone from "yon olden days"

The tldr: my kids have brought new joy into old fandom and old hobbies and my older kiddo has asked me to finish the series PROPERLY and make Alec Hardy not sad anymore (😆) and to write Tentoo whump (child, you have NO idea what beast you have unleashed!).

So I have found myself coming back to this blog thanks to my kids after a hiatus of several years due to (partly) said kids taking up an increasing part of life, as they should, on top of everything else. BUT, they are now late elementary and early middle school age and I decided a few months ago it was time to properly introduce Doctor Who to them as a show to watch. So we started properly with Rose and Nine and they were hooked harder than I could have ever hoped. They chose to watch nothing else until they had binged ALL thirteen seasons in about only four months! It was amazing!

It was also really cool to watch it again from as fresh and unbiased a perspective as I think I'm ever going to get. 11 and 9y/o's aren't influenced by other fandom perspectives, I refused to give them any spoilers along the way, and the whole experience was overall just such an unexpectedly refreshing and renewing one I can't put it into words. It's also been fascinating to get their takes. Here are a few:

- Ten is both their favorite Doctor, but Twelve isn't far behind at all, and my 9y/o son has them at almost a tie. In fact, when I asked each of them which Doctor they would want me to write a fanfic about, my son picked Twelve.

- They both haaaaaaaated the hand waving-ness of Moffatt's grand story arc conclusions: the Doctor being brought back by Amy simply remembering him, the soppy/cheesy way Clara got the Time Lords to give Eleven more regenerations, the entirety of Amy's pregnancy, and for that matter River having regenerations simply by being conceived in the TARDIS they never bought into. You should have seen the skeptical looks on their faces when they heard that line given as an explanation! It was quite priceless! And like I said, I gave no spoilers, no personal opinion ahead of time, nothing. I deliberately let them simply watch the show for what it is.

- They both liked Bill and Nardol way more than Clara

- Both were super confused by the the absolute mess of character arc in Chibnall's era. Not so much for the Doctor, they thought she was ok, just kinda bland, but the Master. They were in complete agreement that nothing he did made any sense whatsoever.

- They were in disbelieving shock and over the moon when David Tennant showed back up as Fourteen when Thirteen regenerated, and they were FURIOUS that they were going to have to wait six whole months before the specials came out 😆

As an added bonus, my 11y/o also has become quite the David Tennant fan. They were so devastated when Ten regenerated, they immediately wanted to watch something else DT was in, so in the process of listing things off, I mentioned MAAN as something him and Catherine Tate did together that was non-angsty and even after emphasizing that it was Shakespeare, they still chose to watch it (not that I was complaining! ;) ). They were literally sliding off the couch with laughter at the absolute comedic perfection that is DT and Catherine Tate in MAAN, and it's been all things David Tennant ever since! I got lots of things thrown at me during the course of Broadchurch because of, and I quote, "His stupid sad eyes and his stupid face!" and I have been ordered to write a proper ending that makes him properly happy. So maybe I'll have to dust off the epilogue fic I'd been writing all that time ago and finish it off for good.

Meanwhile, Doctor Who has been rewatched from the beginning nearly all the way through again and is pretty much the only show my son currently chooses to watch besides his favorite Minecraft YouTuber (Grian, for anyone interested and who knows that realm of things).

So it's been in the process of both my children falling into these fandoms as much on their own as it is possible for children their age to do so, that I have found myself back here. It started because I was looking up some of the whump gifsets I made of Ten in the episode 42 to show my 11y/o, and partly as a confession of sorts to them of how deep into the fandom I used to be.

And then the specials came out and there was Fourteen's beautiful face and big sad eyes (yes my 11y/o has a phenomenal point!), and now I've also found myself relistening to all the Eighth Doctor audios, and idk, whatever the combination of reasons I've found a new joy in it all.

And it's all combined to make me feel like I can write again, like something's been freed or been unlocked. I can imagine scenes and character arcs and come up with new characters and revel in meta minutia that will never explicitly make it onto the page but is vital for plot consistency.

I feel like I found part of myself again.

#personal #texty post #yes I will post new fic when it's done #but I'm properly plotting first this time so it might be a hot minute

[sirendeepity]

For the fanfic writer ask game:

♥️👻📗

Nikiiiii, my love, it's so good to see you here! <333

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

So, this one's tough. Not because I have the hands of Midas, but because I simply... Have no idea? I did skim through metanoia, though, because if that's where the good stuff is, and I found a few because I'm physically unable to choose just one I really liked, two of which are quote quotes

“I gave him the power he thinks he has now, and by not agreeing on meeting with him we’re just proving his point: that he has something, that he’s worth something. I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction.”

That night was not for deep, belly laughs. That night was for healing what others had broken. To build anew.

while the third is more of a context quote

What caught her attention the most, tho, had been the fact that Rhysand had been ready to put so much of himself, of what he’d been through, at stake. For her. Nesta shifted in her seat, not stomaching the starlight violet any longer. She felt Night caressing her mental shields, purring, asking to get in. She let it. You’re worth the risks. She turned, the bones in her neck cracking with the fast motion, and stared speechless at Rhysand. She’d let him in her mind, yet the voice wasn’t there. He’d said those words out loud, had made sure the stars heard them too.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I answered this one here, bUT I'll give you another one, which is also a spoiler for a possible future multi-chapter fanfic I've been thinking about for a while and recently I'm entertaining the idea of actually try to write it? We'll see. Anyway I have this idea that the Valkyries (well, Nesta, at least, since she's the one who's part of the Inner Circle) will "give up" their citizenship? And they're not members of the Night Court anymore? Or they're just a private citizen like any other? I still have to think this trough, but they're going to do all that because they are going to tour around Prythian to recruit and train more females and officially revive The Valkyries, and make them an army for the people: basically, there will be a base in every Court and legions/battalions for each, but overall they don't belong to a single Court but rather all of them, but really, if you think about it, none at all. They're like an independent army, the "neutral party" which will not stay so neutral if things get dirty. They'll stand for equality and freedom, they'll protect the innocents, and by not "legally" belonging to any Court they won't have a High Lord or High Lady that can order them around and such, so they'll be like an Eight Court of sorts without really being a Court at all. Does this make sense?

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

Oh bestie I'm so happy you asked this because y e s. Yes. Yes, I do. And I am completely cool about it. Not acting weird at all.

I'm almost done with the first draft of this personal project of mine that I've been working on and off for the past ..year..s? But I keep procrastinating so I've been "-10 chapters!!" for the past week, but still. To keep things sweet and short, I'll make you a list, because we love lists on this blog:

Crown of Thorns (4): (high?) fantasy; reluctant found family where each and every one of them is "in it" for their own personal gaining, but what started as a shallow "they took my crown from me so now I'll take it back because I can? and because I'm petty and hold grudges" will turn into "I have to stop the Lord of Darkness from coming back from the dead and destroy the world as we know it, and maybe start a revolution while I'm at it". It's messy, and sometimes I think I won't be able to pull this off the way I intended to (good intentions, bad delivery, you know?) so don't ask me to tell you more than this because I really don't know how without spoiling the entire thing;

Cursed Goddes/Blessed God (2): CoT spin-off that is actually a prequel and kind of explains/shows the events that led society to become the way it is in CoT and yes, I really did dig my own grave with this whole series, but now I'm in too deep to stop so down we go;

Kill Your Darlings (1): dark academia-ish, paranormal vibes and a hint of mystery, too? Think House of Anubis, but everyone is gay and mentally ill. That's it, that's the plot.

The Haven Island series (3): contemporary romance, interconnected standalones following a group of friends navigating life in their 20s, where every story is meant to represent a different aspect of girlhood/womanhood (aka toxic/abusive relationships, motherhood, sexism and mysoginy, etc.)

I'd also like to write something in the dystopian sub-genre, because who doesn't love that feeling of impending and unavoidable doom? But I have absolutely nothing in my hands if not some sort of relationship dynamics that for the sake of logic and coherency I had to cut out from the CoT plot, so, yeah, we're really basing it all on vibes at this point

Ask me a question!

#dee answers #ask game #this was a long one #sorry #(I don't regret this at all)