#which i shouldn't! i should get working on the wips i already have

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: new year, same Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bend over the tub, testing the temperature with your fingertips. That incessant flutter doesn't quit. Your stomach is all topsy turvy. With guilt, with shame, with anxiety.

Every word Andy said echoes in your head. His pain, his anger, and that other thing that always overrides the rest; neediness. He doesn't want, he needs. Everything.

Before you can stand, something caresses your lower back. You squeak and stand so fast it makes you dizzy. As you face Andy, your feet tangle in each other.

He's already down to his boxers. You don't see the rest of his clothes, he must've come like that. You give a sheepish smile and press against the side of the tub.

He grins but winces. He turns to check his reflection, leaning in as he touches his swollen cheek. Another strike of guilt razes your body.

He backs away from the mirror and drops his hands. You look off as he feels along the front of his underwear. You don't know why it still makes you so… nervous.

He pulls the fabric down and you sidle along the tub. You can't get past him. He looms over you and brushes close as he peers into the water.

“No bubbles?” He says.

You flinch and clasp your hands together, “sorry, I–”

“I'm teasing, honey,” he touches your shoulder, rubbing the fabric of your sleeve between his fingers, “you're going to join me, right? You said…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you squeak, “I just… you get in first…”

He lingers but only for a moment. He turns as you avoid looking directly at him. You push away the thoughts that battle against each other. Those fearful ones which note the strength corded in his muscles, and those other, curious and confused. The one's not innately attached to him which often wander to another. Someone you shouldn't think of like that.

You chew your lip as you muster what courage you have left. Much of it was spent simply knocking on his door. You've never been very brave, have you?

You pull your blouse off first. The short exhales that hisses beneath the noise of the faucet tickles your ears. You know he's watching you. That makes your hands shake.

You fold the crisp white blouse over the end of the counter and undo the top button of skirt. You shimmy out and lay it with the top. Then you pull the stockings down your legs, leaning on the counter for more than balance.

You stand in your plain white bra and panties. Andy clucks as the water stirs.

“We should get you some cute bras to go with your panties,” he says, “maybe pink?”

You swallow. You don't know what to say. He's being provocative and you know it.

“I like purple better,” you say as you steel yourself and unhook your bra. You hesitate before you let it fall away.

“Purple is nice too,” he agrees. “Honey…”

He leans back and reaches his arm over the edge of the tub. You turn to him, fingers on the then scalloped elastic of your panties. You're being good. You won't argue. You won't hurt him again.

You roll down your panties and leave them on the tile. You have to keep from sprinting away and make yourself go forward. You approach the tub and he reached for you. You accept his large hand as you step over the wall of the tub.

He purrs and guides you down, his other hand tracing along the curve of your hip and side. You sit between his legs as he makes room for you. He's rigid against your back, twitching as he eases you to recline against his stomach.

He sighs as the tension slowly leaves his muscles. His hands wander along your lower stomach. You try to keep from locking up but your stiff and startled. He cups your chest and wiggles beneath you. Your heartbeat hammers.

“You nervous?” He chuckles into your hair.

You nod and gulp loudly.

“Why, baby? We've done it all before.”

“I… know,” you quiver, “but… it's still new to me.”

He laughs again, his thumbs rolling around your nipples until they're hard.

“That's good. To feel that way. That excitement,” his timbre is silty and deep, “you know I feel the same. I can't get enough because every time feels just as good as the first.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you agree weakly. You waych the water rise and squirm, “it's going to overflow.”

You try to sit up but he holds you down for a moment. Keeping you against him, just a second, as if to say, I am letting you get away. You rise up and twist off the faucet as his fingertips dancing up and down your back.

You lay back again and he groans. His swollen dick bobs between you. He curls and arm across your stomach, his other hand dipping beneath the water to knead the side of your ass. He nuzzles your crown as the rumble in his chest gets louder.

“Will you put me in?” He asks.

You don't know what he means. Not at first. Not until he shifts his hips, lifting you slightly so his tip prods along your cheeks. You grasp the edge of the tub as your eyes round.

“Please, I just want to feel you.”

You nod, speechless. You ache at the thought. You don't think your ready for him. Have you ever been?

You push your hand under the water and angle around. You find him and line him up with your cunt. Even submerged, you're dry. You tilt your hips and rub his head along your lips, trying to work up to it.

You feel his impatience as he rocks his hips, prodding again. You hold your breath and angle him against your entrance. It burns just to get his head in you. You pull back and try again, a little further but just as fiery.

Slowly you get him, halfway as he growls and once more fondles your chest. He tilts from below, moving his hips steadily until he chafes past your resistance. You whimper but try to make it sound less agonized.

“Mmm,” he buries himself to his limit, well past your own. Tears bobble on your eyes. “I could stay just like this. How about you, honey?”

You nod and tamp down the pain, “yes… An–honey.”

He doesn't move. He keeps you flush as he continues to feel you up. He reaches down to knead your thighs and your hips, tickles your stomach, gropes your chest, and finally, settles a hand across your throat. He purrs and kisses your hair.

“You make me feel so… big,” he growls.

And he makes you feel insignificant. You let out a moan and nod above his knuckle. He squeezes just enough for you to gasp.

“I'm not going to hurt you…” he says, the last of his words dangle unsaid; not like you did me.

You stay still as his thumb presses under your jaw. You can breathe, just barely. He presses his nose into your hair and groans and he pulls himself out of you, just to his tip, then eases back in. You puff out a breath as your hand falls to grip his hips beneath you.

“Shhh, baby, you relax,” he coos as he thrusts again, long and slow, as if he knows it's torture, as if he's drawing his vengeance. “Fuck, you're so tight around me…”

He continues at the pace. Deliberate and devious. You feel your walls stretch with each plunge into you, your back wracks with tension.

You try to breathe through the torment. You can't as he picks up his tempo, pulling out slow only to snap back into you. His pelvis makes you sore with each dip inside.

The water swirls and splashes as his breath hitches. Your own is trapped as his hand becomes a vice around your neck. You wheeze as he bucks into you from below, jolting your entire body with each thrust. He growls and snarls and sneers as he uses you to his delight. To your horror.

You close your eyes and give in. You go limp as you let him have you. As you try to make yourself feel as good as he does. Why can't it feel nice for you?

You clamp around him as a vision flickers across your eyelids. One that makes you squeak. That has you clutching at Andy's thick wrist, trying to swallow down air.

No, no, you shouldn't, but it feels better with those thoughts. You don't feel so worn out. You feel almost giddy to think of him instead.

You squeeze Andy's arm and a moan escapes his grip. Steve, oh Steve. You see his blue eyes watching you. Feel his hands petting you. Gentle, not rough.

The bathroom disappears and is replaced with a new scene. The leather couch in Dr. Kemp's office. He's there with you, on top of you, holding you. And you like it.

The pressure builds in your core as he writhes with you. As you intertwine in pleasure, working as one, not against each other. You're chest is ready to burst as he pecks along your forehead and cheek, coaxing you as his warm cologne tinges your senses.

“Good girl,” he slithers into your ear.

Something in you snaps. Just like with the toy but better. More intense.

Your eyes open wide and you gasp out as you're swept up in the rolling tide. Your hand drops from Andy’s wrist as you let him choke the words you dare not say. Steve, Steve, Steve…

Your orgasm piques quickly and just as suddenly fizzles out. A glimmer against the gray reality. Your head swells as the pain seeps back in.

You're bad. You're very bad. If Andy knew… he can't. You promised not to hurt him again. So you won't let him ever find out.

🕊

You work at layering the flat noodles, sauce, and cheese. Lasagne has always been a favourite, Amber's especially. But you can try your best.

The fragrance of tomato and basil waft in the air. You focus on the task. It's easy to appreciate the simple things when there is so much around that's complicated.

As you lay down the last layer of cheese, you check the temperature on the stove. It's not done preheating. You'll have time to wash up a bit.

You rinse the silicon spatula, a pot, a pan, and a bowl. You dry your hands as the stove beeps and reach for the heavy pan of pasta. As you move to put it in the stove, your thighs squeeze together and remind you of the less simple tasks.

You shut the oven door and cling onto the handle and bask in the warmth. You close your eyes. You haven't slept much in the last few days. Each time you try, he wakes you again.

That day could’ve been a renewal. With Andy working again, you have hours to yourself, but when you did try to doze, you were kept awake with dread. You feel yourself cracking again but you won't let it show. Not this time.

You look over at the knife block. Your eyes stick there. You try not to think of blades or their edges on your skin. You shudder and shake your head.

The front door pulls you back. You turn as you hear Andy in the entryway. You rush out to meet him. He puts his bag down and lets you help him out of his coat. As you hang it, his hand wanders under your skirt and he pinches your ass.

“Something smells good,” he sniffs emphatically.

“Lasagne,” you draw away and smile at him.

“Mmm,” he hums as he looks at you, “dove…” he has a devilish twinkle in his eye, “you know… tomorrow is Friday.”

“Yes,” you confirm tenuously.

“So, well… would you want to do something special?”

“Special?” You echo him, your stomach starting up again.

“If I asked you a favour… it's been a long week, you know, so I was… hoping you might take some of the load off,” he explains, “but it's something fun.”

“Okay?”

“Tomorrow, when I get home, will you… will you wait for me naked?” His cheeks tint red just sligthly as he smirks guiltily.

You blink as your brows pop up. You didn't expect that. You couldn't even think of something like that.

“I… I guess,” you press your sweaty palms to your skirt, “I could…”

“And when I come in, you can undress me too,” he steps close, his hands on your hips, “one piece at a time…”

“Sure,” you eke out.

“And you'll kiss me?”

You nod.

“And take care of me?”

Another nod.

“You're so good to me, dove,” he purrs as he cradles your chin, forcing your head up, “I have another surprise for you.”

He lets the statement hover as he kisses you. He sways you as he wraps you up in one arm. His tongue invades your mouth, nearly gagging you, but you're getting better. You don't even murmur as the gross sliminess.

He finally parts and you catch your breath. He bites his lip as he looks you up and down again. He smiles and inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling in content. He tugs on his belt, wiggling his hips as you ignore the bulge in his pants.

He turns and reaches for his bag. He slips his hand into the top and slides a shape out. It's your tablet. He holds it just out of your grasp as he faces you.

“You've been doing so good. I'm… sorry I took it,” he offers it to you. “I was upset and afraid. I know now how much you love me, dove.”

You put your hand on the other side but he doesn't let go. He keeps you deadlocked as he grips the case tight.

“But you should only talk to Dr. Kemp in session. I think that's best,” he girds.

"I understand,” you try not to rip the tablet away. You can't help but be desperate for it. You haven't drawn in so long.

“Good,” he lets go and you hug the tablet to your chest.

You smile and look down at the top of the case. It's a small victory. Just like the fading bruises on his face.

“Honey,” your heart leaps as you start before you can stop yourself. No, it's too much but you have to ask. While he's happy. “Can… can my sister come over? Next week?”

“Amber,” his smile falls in an instant, “I don't know… feels too soon.”

“Okay,” you accept. You know better than to argue, “but eventually?”

His brows lower and his cheek dimples, “how about we chat with Dr. Kemp about it?”

You could jump! It's not a yes but isn't a no either.

“Yes, honey, we can do that,” you recite.

“We…” he smiles, “we can.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #steve kemp #fresh #au #library au #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #don't speak

[cerridwen007]

I Want You.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k (18+)

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Inspired by the song “I Want You” by Reignwolf.

Notes/Warnings: SMUT with a touch of Angst, porn with feelings, insecure reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex/foreplay, primal play, creampie, dom Joel, sub reader, biting, choking, swearing, no y/n, fluffy ending.

A/N: Kinda self indulgent but I mean who wouldnt want Joel to fuck the insecurity out of them? Once again I am apologizing for being inactive in writing and posting my fics. I've been a bit burned out with writing and been busy with work and life. So this time I know to not make promises about weekly posts. Instead I'm going to give myself grace and instead try and do at least one fic a month. So some months I might write 3-4 fics and others only one, it honestly will depend on how I'm feeling. But what I will try to do within this next month is finish updating my masterlist with some new, sexy banners and maybe also make a fic rec masterlist for all my favorite works. I will say I have been working on a few wips and am about half way through Corruption of Innocence part 3 and have also come up with another series this time for Joel, so stay tuned for that some time in the future. Thank you as always for any interactions with my posts, it means the world to me.

******

You couldn't actually justify why you did it. You shouldn't have pushed him away. But some part of you couldn't believe that he could love you and only you and that he wouldn't get bored of you and seek pleasure in someone else's bed. In all honesty, you were silly to think that, even being the soft-spoken man Joel was, he still always tried his best in reassuring you that he wanted you. And never did he ever give you any reasons to doubt his loyalty to you. But yet you decided to end your situationship with Joel in fear of getting hurt.

Joel, on the other hand, was first distressed and then annoyed that you pushed him away. He had been spending more of his nights at the Tipsy Bison, drinking away his troubles, trying to forget his feelings for you. He just couldn't seem to understand why you called it quits. You had spent so long dancing around your feelings for each other, and then when you finally did get together, everything was great, the best he had ever felt in a long time. Then it all came crashing down one night when you said that you wanted to stop seeing each other.

You took some convincing to admit the reasoning why. And when you did, he was shocked. Maybe he hadn't been expressing enough of his affection towards you. Maybe he should have told you he loved you already. You were quick to reassure him that it was yourself and not him. To which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at. But you pleaded with him that it was completely you, that you couldn't handle losing him. At first, as much as it hurt him to do so, he respected your wishes, and then one night about a month after your split, something inside of him snapped. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life go that easily.

You were spending your night at home by yourself like usual, trying to forget Joel in your own way, distracting yourself with a book and a cup of tea. Your heart skipped a beat when it heard fairly loud knocking at your door. The knocking stopped for a second, and you thought about just ignoring it until it started again.

“Alright, I'm coming, jeez. You scoff annoyed, walking to the door before opening it.

Your voice and breath immediately hitch in your throat. Eyes widening as they take in the intimidating, tall figure before you, leaning against your doorframe. You scan over his body, the way his shirt and pants stretch over his wide thighs and shoulders, his eyes brown and soft but filled with something deeper and darker tonight. God, has he gotten even hotter since you last saw him? Your thoughts are interrupted when he coughs to get your attention and speaks.

“Came to talk to ya, sweetheart.” He says darkly.

You move aside and invite him in.

“Oh..yeah come in.” You whisper back.

You can smell the whiskey he likes on his breath as he walks by and the smell that is undoubtedly him, something you missed all so dearly. You take a deep breath, working up the courage to speak before you talk.

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“I think you know why I'm here.” 

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrow.

He speaks through gritted teeth, like an animal baring its fangs, holding back, ready to devour its prey. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know…cause I told you…I told you, I want you.”

“Joel I know, but I…” You whisper.

The words seem to slip away. Your brain can't seem to find proper reasoning as to why you still push him away, yet you still do, as if your body is working on autopilot.

“You know I want you, you're in my head.” His tone softens for a moment as he looks deep into your eyes. Wishing that you would just believe him and give your relationship a chance.

You go to interrupt, but he shuts you up by roughly grabbing your cheeks and jaw in one hand, the slight pain and abrupt motion to make you stop talking and listen. You can't help but let your desire continue to grow. Your middle is dripping from his dominance and assertiveness. You're almost whimpering at his touch.

“Joel.” You manage to mumble out, the last of your denying uttered in that one word.

He tightens his grip ever so slightly and lowers his head closer to yours, his lip curled.

“Well I'm telling you. I want you…..I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying, wolf, and I'll always be your man.” he growls.

The tension is thick in the air. Joel never failed to make you wet at the sight of him, but this was something else, a primal need to feast on each other's mouths and flesh like you won’t have the chance to again.

The point of tension breaks and your mouths attach to each other like magnets drawn together. The kisses are  filled with desire, lust, and want, but also with ‘I missed you’s’, don’t let me go again’s, and love. Teeth are clashing, lips smashing, hands flying about, trying to grab onto each other and hold them close in any way they can. 

Joel pushes you against the wall harshly, pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist. You moan into his mouth, feeling his craving for your body, nestled against your clothed middle. His desire to be gentle and take his time is long gone out the window as he feverishly explores your body, ripping away any clothing that stands in his way of touching and tasting your bare skin. He marks all along your body, your neck, jaw, and collarbones, anywhere he can reach, claiming you for his own. 

His hands reach up behind your back and pull your hair firmly, giving him move access to attack your flesh with bite and hickey’s. You find yourself a grinning and whimpering mess under him. He growls into your breasts after ripping away your shirt and bra like a wild wolf, warning others not to touch his meal. He finally pulls you both off the wall and quickly walks to your bed and throws you down. Not wanting to waste a moment, he pulls your pants and panties off swiftly. He groans as he gets on his knees and takes in the scent of your arousal. 

“God I missed you and this sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond his hands wrapped around your thighs are pulling you to his mouth, he makes quick work of you, his tongue licking every inch of you, switching between, fucking into you pulsating hole and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. It feels so good, yet you can’t help but squirm around only to be pinned down by Joel's forearm, keeping his meal still for him. 

Your hand reaches down into his graying locks as Joel undoes you with his skilled tongue. Your first orgasm comes quickly. He groans deeply at the sweet taste gracing his taste buds, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. Instead he speeds up his actions and begins thrusting two fingers into your drenched cunt and curling them to reach that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The pathetically beautiful sounds coming from your mouth do nothing but egg him to continue, urging you to your second orgasm of the night in mere minutes. Two fingers become three that mercilessly fuck into your tight hole.

“Cum for me.” Joel quietly groans in your cunt. 

Taking his words as a stern order, you let go, drenching his face with your second release of the night. He is grinning ear to ear as he drinks up every bit of your sweetness, your hands grip the sheets tightly, cunt verging on overstimulation. He finally lets up when he feels satisfied and crawls back up to give yourself a taste of your own pleasure from his tongue. He groans deeply as you begin pulling him down on top of you and arching your back up into him, insinuating you want more, need to feel him inside you. He chuckles darkly and reaches down between you to tease your folds with the tip of his cock. 

He keeps teasing despite your whines for him to put it in already. 

“Please….Please Joel.” You whine quietly.

He grins devilishly. “Begging me to fuck you sweetheart, Need it that bad, don’t you honey?”

You nod your head in response, but Joel doesn't like that answer. He grips your throat lightly and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Use your words baby.” he growls.

“Y-Yes, need it so bad Joel.”

“Atta girl.”

He quickly thrusts his whole length into your quivering hole, making you gasp out. He lets you adjust to his size for a few seconds before slowly yet brutally dragging his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into your tight cunt again.

You unconsciously bring your fist up to your mouth and bite into, so overwhelmed with the deliciously brutal pleasure you were feeling.Before you could have even comprehended, he flips you over and brings your ass up to his cock, slamming into your hip mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back into your head, he holds the back of your neck down as he pounded into you. Your hands find purchase in the sheets, gripping them tightly. He lowers himself so his front is flush with your back, and the new angle hits even deeper inside you, urging you to the precipice of climax. 

“All mine, This pretty cunt is all mine.” Joel snarled into your ear, biting your ear lobe.

“F-f-fuck yes, only yours, Joel.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises you, before reaching around to rub your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Shit! Joel!” You whine as your high comes crashing down.

His thrusts never stuttered as he worked you through your high and chased his own. Joel roughly grabbed your hips as he creamed inside of you, a final step in marking his territory.

You both collapsed on the bed, Joel’s full weight comforting as you caught your breaths. A comfortable silence blanketed the room, which only moments ago was filled with obscene noises.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise at his remark, the first ever time he has ever said those three words to you. You turn your head to try and look at him better. You see his eyes have returned a closer shade to their normal deep brown, his pupils blown wide. You can’t help but smile at his softness, a stark contrast to him behavior only moments ago. Nevertheless, you loved every bit of Joel you could get.

“I love you too.” You whisper before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips.

You couldn't be certain of what was the future for you and Joel, but you knew right now there is no place you rather be than snuggling with your person.

********

#pedro pascal characters #smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut

[kitramune]

Kissing (Rating - T)

Here's a short InuKag drabble I wrote today. I was gonna post it for WIP Wednesday but I ended up considering it finished. Oh, well! This one was inspired by @shinidamachu and her campaign to reclaim the first kiss attempt as a proper InuKag moment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kissing did not come naturally into Inuyasha's thoughts. Having grown up without much parental love, and even less romantic prospects, he didn't know if it ever would. He knew about kissing, of course. People did it all the time. Spouses, lovers, parents and their children, people even kissed their pets. But he'd never kissed anyone before – at least that he could remember. He'd definitely never been described as what one might call particularly loving.

But that day, in that moment, when Kagome had yelled in his face and made a big deal about her appearance – which he'd stopped thinking about if he was being honest – and whether he hated her – was she stupid? Why would he protect her and let her see his human form if he hated her?! - it did enter his mind. As swiftly and suddenly as this spitfire girl had come into his life, he found himself drawn to show her how she made him feel.

Her face was just so close. So perfectly shaped into that cute angry huff she got. They were way too close and he could suddenly think of nothing he wanted more than to lean in the extra few inches and learn what her lips would feel like pressed against his.

And why shouldn't he do it? He should totally do it. Just a little. To see if he even liked it. Who knows? It might be gross. Overrated. It'd be easy enough to find out.

He'd already told her she smelled good, so shouldn't he be more open? More honest about what he'd been feeling for her lately? She wouldn't stop going on about Kikyou, and it would at the very least be an effective way to shut her up. Right?

He grabbed her hand as gently as he could, tired of hearing her tirade. Hell, it hurt to hear she still didn't trust him after he'd bared his damn heart to her on his human night! Her eyes conveyed nothing but confusion at his action. Clearly she hadn't expected it. Yeah, well that made two of them, to be honest.

“You have it wrong...”

…

The second time he tried was admittedly way later than he'd meant it to be. Kagome was clearly not ready for kissing yet the first time, and he wanted to respect that. He did. Even if it drove him crazy sometimes! But hearing her reiterate her promise right before the final battle, well... It pulled at a deep-rooted longing in his chest. She wasn't going to leave him, even for her own safety. She wanted to stay with him forever. He wanted to stay with her forever. That's what people called marriage, right? So if he was proposing, he should kiss her too, right?

He wanted to. He wanted to so badly... He took her hand, just like last time. She still looked surprised, but not in the same way. She almost looked... expectant? And her hand was reciprocating his hold, just slightly, if not a little sweaty, showing her anxiety.

“Then, if that's what you want... I swear on my life to protect you.”

…

Kagome's giggle rang in his senses as Inuyasha nibbled at her ear, pressing her up against the outer wall of Kaede's hut. She'd been back with him for three days and he swore it was impossible to keep his hands off her. He'd never figured himself for the kind of man who would be this insatiable just to kiss his woman, but here they were, laughing in hushed voices and stealing touches when they were supposed to be working.

“Y'know,” Kagome grinned, returning his affections by kissing at his neck, “You'd better cut that out, cuz if you don't stop soon, I won't let you stop at all.”

Inuyasha groaned, dipping his head to press their lips together in one last taste before he had to let her go. “Don't remind me I have to travel out of province today... If I back out, that lech will catch on and never let us hear the end of it.”

“You better get going so we can afford our own home quickly, then.”

“Yeah,” he sighed in resignation. “Yeah, you're right.”

His wife waved him goodbye with far too much amusement cheer for his liking, and to his credit he did make it a few steps away from her... But then he cursed and rushed back to sweep her up into another deep kiss, eliciting more laughter from the woman now back in his arms.

“Just saying goodbye properly,” he growled.

She nodded through the kisses before managing to speak. “Come home soon, Inuyasha.”

“Yeah. I'll be back home before you know it.”

#Inuyasha #InuKag #fanfic #myfics #sorry it's so short #but I felt like I had nothing more to add #hopefully it's still cute

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

"Julian shaking and crying from anger and disgust while he is forced by ✨~Circumstances~✨ to kiss Sloan... 😏 " He has to in order to save Garak for some reason? I'd imagine that would be a legit reason for it, which could then segue nicely into angry/upset/jealous Garak going a little feral in revenge for Julian, then into fluffy/comfort Garashir to finish?

Hehe yesss, you GET it! That’s def a direction I'd love to explore! <3 It's especially fun to me if Garak is made to watch... >:3 But I guess I feel like I’m stuck on the specifics. I def would love it to be to save Garak, but what is the reason in "for some reason," you know? Like, how to get Garak in Sloan’s clutches, or why Sloan would ask Julian for a kiss (I feel like he should at least keep up the pretense of being on an s31 mission, right?) and why Julian would believe that complying would actually save/help Garak...

Also, saving Garak being the goal reminds of the set up in that fic Name Your Price, by Invicta, where Sloan makes Julian sleep with him in order to spare Garak’s life. The idea there is that Garak is not trusted by s31 and is about to be killed by them, and Sloan tells Julian he'll call off the planned assassination in exchange for Julian satisfying his lust. So my mental block on this is perhaps that when I try to think of scenarios, the premise of that fic shows up in my mind instead lmao. Maybe I shouldn't worry so much about stepping on toes though bc I know I would not have written that concept the same way Invicta did lol.

So I could make it NOT about Garak. The ultimatum could be about saving a patient's life/curing a disease, maybe. ...But I've already got an Extreme Measures wip about Sloan getting Julian to bang him in exchange for the cure to the Changeling disease, and I'm already struggling to make that one work. XD

But anyway, I think I want Sloan to have an excuse besides his embarrassing crush for making Julian kiss him (even if it's flimsy and doesn't hold up to scrutiny), and I think that's really what's nebulous to me rn. Thanks for sending this ask and letting me ramble and try to pinpoint what I'm stuck on! <3 I'm sure I'll figure out how to make it work eventually. XD

(This is a follow up to my tags on @the-last-dillpickle's post.)

#sloanshir #trying to achieve this Vibe has been on my mind since before dill's post lol #also i really genuinely love getting asks <3 i am having such a good day

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Talk about your sense 8au

(For the WIP title tag game, list of titles here.)

More than gladly, my anonymous friend!

So I was rewatching Netflix's Sense8 dubbed in German as part of my effort to get better at it and not forget everything I learned at the course I took, and I was reminded of how compelling the premise of that series is, and then the brainrot, predictably enough, grabbed a hold of me and basically forced me to apply the premise to the characters from the Sandman.

(For anyone who isn't familiar with Sense8, the basic premise is that there people - sensates - who are born with a genetic mutation which allows them to psychically connect to each other and visit each other through (more or less) astral projection. Each of these people go through a "rebirth" at some point in their lives when these abilities are awakened within them and they are immediately connected to a handful of individuals scattered across the globe who happen to have been born (their first, physical birth) at the exact same moment. These people form a "cluster", and within a cluster it's possible to not only visit one another but share emotions and sensations and knowledge such as how to speak French or fight or cook or ski or most anything really. Through eye contact, it's possible to connect with other sensates outside of one's cluster. The ability to utilise connections can be inhibited with medications called "blockers".)

So, naturally, I thought that the Endless siblings should be a cluster of seven. It's a well-established cluster, it's been years since they were reborn and their abilities were "activated" so to speak, and they are famous within the sensate community for...reasons which I will refrain from spoiling here. Suffice it to say that everyone knows there should be seven of them, and seven only.

Except...one day a certain Hob Gadling runs out of the somewhat mysterious medication the doctor at work prescribed him, and he starts getting headaches and then he runs in to a feisty, trench-coat-clad brunette at the pharmacy who accidentally makes eye contact with him and suddenly she's standing right in front of him, telling him to forget they ever connected, while she's also simultaneously hurrying out of the store several yards away? And oh god, if he's hallucinating already he really needs a refill of his meds, except the ghost/hallucination is telling him she's real and that he shouldn't trust doctors???

Thankfully, he runs into her again at the pub and manages to bribe her with whisky to explain what's happening and prove that this not-quite-psychic-power she has is actually real and that he has it too. She seems surprised that he hasn't seen any of his clustermates even after a couple of days of being "reborn", so when Hob accidentally visits a pale, black-haired stranger later that day he's excited to get to know this handsome man who must be in his cluster. Except the man accuses Hob of being a spy for an evil organisation that once held him prisoner and claims that it's impossible for them to be clustermates, but then why do they keep visiting each other and why can Hob hear and smell the ocean the man lives by and how come he can suddenly speak Greek?!

Ah, it's so much fun to play around with weird psychic powers and deep intuitive connections between people who maybe shouldn't allow themselves to act on their attraction to each other and Endless family drama ❤️ It's at 38k words so far and boy oh boy is there more to come. (One-shot fics? I don't know her. Never heard of it. Sounds made up.) You can blame this fic for making sure the other ones on the WIP list will remain there a good while longer, but you can also thank this fic for making me write at all after a bit of a creative slump, so silver lining! I'm really excited about this one. I have no idea if people who aren't already into Sense8 will even choose to read this (though they should, as I've tried to write it soa as to be comprehensible even without prior knowledge), but I do not choose where the inspiration takes me! I guess Calliope just really digs Sense8 at the moment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Snippet under the read more!

“Is there anything else I could help you with today?”

The woman grunted and turned her head to look around the store, as if searching for inspiration. “Suppose I might as well stock up on nicotine pl—” She immediately interrupted herself the moment her gaze fell on Hob, and her eyes widened as they met his.

Realising that it might have been a little rude to listen in on a stranger’s pharmaceutical order just to procrastinate deciding which of the plethora of almost identical painkillers to buy, Hob politely averted his eyes, only to utter a decidedly impolitely loud yelp as he turned his head to find that very same woman suddenly standing right beside him in the pain relief aisle.

Their eyes met again, and she said, “Oh, shite!” and promptly disappeared into thin air.

Head spinning, Hob turned around again in time to see the woman—yes, definitely the same woman with the same brown hair and the same light trench coat that had seen better days—tell the pharmacist, “Never mind,” and turn on her heel to walk towards the exit, looking very much like she was intentionally avoiding looking Hob’s way again.

“The fuck?”, he breathed, then started following her before he could think better of it, raising his voice to call, “Hey, wait!”

She did not slow down or turn her head, and Hob suspected he would have to break into a jog if he was to catch up to her before she left the store. However, he was saved from making a decision on that point by the fact that he suddenly found himself walking right by her side when they should, by all rights, still be in entirely different aisles.

“Wha—” he began, but she interrupted him by abruptly stopping and reaching up to seize him by the front of his shirt.

“Don’t even think about following me!” she hissed with all the intimidation someone at least a head shorter than her opponent could muster—a not inconsiderable amount, considering how the perspective shifted again so that he was once again back in his own aisle, watching one version of the woman reach the door and slipping out of the store while an identical version pressed him up against a shelf of cough syrup.

“I’m…sorry?” was all Hob managed to squeeze out, too baffled to even consider putting his professional experience to use to extricate himself from the woman’s grip. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to touch you?

“You look familiar. Have you been shadowing me while on blockers?”

Now that she said it, Hob realised she looked vaguely familiar too, but the question as to where he might have seen her before felt much less important in that moment than the one at the top of his mind, namely, “What the bloody hell is happening? Blockers— Who are you? How did you do that? Are you…real?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not— You actually don’t know, do you? Aren’t you a bit old to be a newborn?”

“What?”

From the direction of the counter, Hob heard the pharmacist ask, “Sir, are you feeling all right?”

He looked over at her, then down at his assailant, then back again. The pharmacist showed no signs whatsoever of either seeing or hearing anyone other than Hob himself. “I…think I really need to talk to my GP.”

“Do you need me to call someone?” she asked, at the same time as the other woman—hallucination?—said, “Don’t. No doctors. The regular ones will have you institutionalised, and the ones in the know can’t be trusted yet.”

“Trusted—?”

“Look, mate, I’m gonna leave you with this advice: the headaches will pass soon; you’re not crazy; don’t talk to outsiders or doctors; and find someone discreet to get you blockers. They’re good to have at hand, though they’ll be expensive if people will have to resort to synthesising the main component themselves for the foreseeable future. Oh, and never visit me ever again!” This last piece of advice was delivered with a pointed shove that rattled the contents of the shelves at Hob’s back, then the woman disappeared again, as if she’d never been there at all.

“Sir? Do you need someone to escort you home, or to a hospital?”

Hob blinked and closed his gaping mouth. With some effort, he composed himself enough to say, “No, I…I can manage.” He passed a subtly trembling hand over his eyes and cleared his throat. “Just tell me one thing?”

“Of course,” replied the pharmacist, still sporting a concerned frown.

“Is it safe to combine ibuprofen with Anadin Extra, or will that fuck up my stomach?”

#personal #ask games #tag games #wip game #snippets #my writing

[cassynite]

wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

--

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

#cassy writes #cassy wips #does this feel true to dae's character? who knows! #oc: sparrow #daeran arendae #pwotr pals

[mirrorthoughts]

WIP Whenever

I got tagged by my two lovely people, @dear-massacre and @aurevell!

So you get a snippet of a one-shot I'm currently editing and that probably will be posted, soon 😂

Also, this seems to be a rarepair that I couldn't (yet) find on AO3 😂 so have fun with my first Stannetopher fic! 😂

"Fuck." "There there, sweetheart. You of all people should know when to hold back, shouldn't you?" Stiles groaned in answer when he put pressure on his injured leg despite Peter supporting him. The wolf was probably only seconds away from gathering him up into his arms bridal style and carrying him home - or at least to his jeep - but Stiles couldn't let him do that. There had been a time when he'd welcomed Peter's flirting and mother henning very much. But by now he knew that despite the, sometimes on sexual harassment bordering, flirting, Peter was in a dedicated relationship. Stiles couldn't even fault him for that, but he definitely wouldn't be the asshole to get in between Peter and Chris Argent. He had to admit he'd never guessed the two being together at all if he hadn't seen them. And he would have dismissed it as a hallucination or maybe a joke but, well. The heavy make out session they started after Peter had seen him watching, spoke volumes. Allison's pitying face when he'd asked her if she knew about the relationship did, too. Stiles was used to being in love with people he couldn't hold a candle to. First there had been Lydia who hadn't given him the time of day until their unlucky stumble into the supernatural when they had become friends, to his surprise. Then there had been Danny at around the same time, who had made him realize that he might play a lot more for the other team, actually, which luckily hadn't become as weird as he'd feared during the times he'd spent in the locker rooms before and after lacrosse. Well. It had become weird and he'd become stupid around Danny, but that was something he'd already been used to in life. Other than the whole supernatural thing that had brought not only sexy evil werewolf Peter Hale but also just as sexy DILF Hunter Christopher Argent in his life. None of them had ever given him the time of day. Well, there had been that prom with Lydia who'd tried to make Jackson jealous and there always was Peter's flirting, but obviously, none of them had ever meant what they had tried to sell him. Or rather Peter obviously didn't mean it. After all Lydia had only smiled and nodded and not lied at his face while holding him upright after a fight with another one of their weekly monsters. Danny and Chris at least were honest enough to just tell him that they didn't want anything of what he had to give to them. He could work with that. A no was a no, after all.

#seikaze #sei's writing #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #peter hale #danny mahealani #chris argent #Stannetopher

[trainsinanime]

WIP reblog game

I got tagged by @chaos-has-theories and @into-september. Sorry for the delay in doing this, I just forgot about it.

If you're like me and you have a million WIPs and are anxious about updating them, play this game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Let's start with the stories. So, I don't trust myself with multi-chapter stories, it takes me forever to write one-shots already, so (almost) none of these are out yet. You can read the ones that are out over here.

Operation Multifail. Three-chapter story where Marinette tries to convince Chat Noir to stop thinking about Multimouse by fighting as Multimouse, badly, on purpose, so he'll think she's incompetent. It doesn't quite work out.

Kwamidaddy Adrien. Assumes Marinette is the guardian. For reasons, Chat Noir has to take the Kwamis for a while. They all promised not to tell him anything about her private life. Shouldn't be a problem, right? This one may also end up being like three chapters

Chlogami Sabrina's Wedding. I think I posted a rough outline for chapter one here: It's Sabrina's wedding, and drunk Chloé confides in also-drunk Kagami about her complicated relationship to Sabrina, how she's happy for her but also jealous but also knows that because of their baggage, it could never work, while Kagami also has feelings about Adrien's and Marinette's upcoming wedding. I have like half a first draft of a first chapter here and absolutely no clue where this might go next.

Wings AU - Learning to Land. So there's a wings AU concept for Miraculous that keeps coming up every now and then. A bit too angsty for me, but when I first heard it, I thought it was a fun idea to talk about aerodynamics and world building in that context, specifically where Marinette teaches sheltered Adrien how to fly.

Plagg Interview. Now we're deep in the dregs, I picked a folder at random. Alya publishes interviews with someone close to Chat Noir's thinking. That someone: Plagg, who has been bribed with cheese. Marinette is not happy, but she can't say anything because Alya can't learn she's Ladybug. Yeah, this one's been sitting in my folder for a while. As have the others. Probably a one-shot.

Stuff I'm looking forward to in each fic:

The whole thing is based around big action set pieces. Three big Akuma fights, one in each chapter, which Marinette tries to fail at in different ways, and fails to fail, so to speak. I have no idea how to write these well, but I think that can be fun. Super-unpopular opinion: Fanfiction has way too much angst and romance and not enough action, and I'm definitely part of the problem myself.

Adrien interacting with the Kwamis who imprint on him as their father should be really adorable. As should the Kwamis trying their best to get Adrien and Marinette to marry (without revealing too much (they will reveal too much)).

Writing the banter between Chloé and Kagami is fun. I want to write more of it. I can definitely see someone taking that concept and turning it into, for lack of a better word, "normal long fic"; you know, thirty chapters, misunderstanding, they take a trip for a few chapters and return, so on and so forth. I'm not doing that, I don't have the work ethic and it's not actually my favourite genre of fanfic anyway. But what else could this story be? Figuring that out is an interesting challenge.

Aerodynamics! Learning to land! How do you learn to fly in a Wings AU? What does "rich kids aren't allowed to fly" mean for the world building? I don't have a story here at all but I do like the setting.

Plagg and Alya scheming together should be gold. Plagg trying to barter with a Marinette who can't reveal she's the Guardian has also a lot of comedic potential. Plagg trying to teach both of them how much Adrien needs them could be very emotional. Just Plagg.

Also, do you have any title ideas for any of these? I think Operation Multifail is good, the rest are just literally the file names I chose when I started with these projects.

I am tagging, very much at random, @sizzleissues, @pauliestorylover, @oblivionhold, @wrw47, @precious-notes, @kyuunonana, @aidanchaser, @aanabear2803, @valtionrautatiet-official and @cosmiccarrotcake. The requirement for inclusion was "I found you in my activity view in the past three months", so if you don't know what fanfic is, or don't feel like doing this, do feel free to ignore this.

#in retrospect i could have included some non-ml ones as well #but i'm not going back and changing this now

[bolithesenate]

WIP GAME

@charmwasjess for your 2024 preview wip game i reached deep into my pockets (aka my google docs page)

from a WIP i started a while ago but i havent really touched in several months (though i am still obsessed w the idea)

there isn't enough fics out there forcussing on the AgriCorps or the ServeCorps in general so i took it into my own hands and came up with a TON of worldbuilding and at least one flowchart

this might beba bit confusing cuz of all the Corps-slang i put in, but hey. i think you can read it anyways

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

"System on the very edge of Mandalorian Space. Main planet's been experiencing abnormal atmospheric patterns over the last few weeks."

Jeisel looks up, calculation shining in her eyes. "What kind of abnormal?"

"The kind that means work for the Mercs," Ilian grins back, though it's a humorless thing, more akin to a baring of teeth. 

Immediately, Jeisel sits up, attention fully on the looming chagrian. "But it's Mandalorian Space," she warns, because someone here has to be the voice of reason and apparently that job falls to her this very moment.

"The edge of it," Ilian counters with a shrug, "And you know the Mercs. Republic borders don't really matter when you're operating outside of the Senate's graces anyways."

Which is true, of course, but Jeisel isn't concerned about the Republic side of things. They don't care an ass crack's width about the greater Corps in general. No, what she is thinking of are the very dangerous, very armed and very negatively predisposed to any Jedi activity within their borders ancestral enemies of theirs.

She frowns. "I cannot greenlight that, you know that"

Ilian lifts a brow in retaliation - an unfair move, because he knows it makes him look hotter - and crosses his arms. "Even if I tell you it's a baby signal?"

A hiss escapes her.

"Are you sure?"

He leans in over her table, tilting his head slightly and his lower horns scrape over the surface.. "I don't know. I just tell you what the AssCards told me. If they think it's a baby signal, it probably is." He rolls his eyes but Sian can tell that it's a mask. Now the strange tenseness she felt when he first crept up on her office made sense. "It's why I came straight to you, after all." Yep, there it is.

"You say Charting is saying its a baby signal?," she still is skeptical. Juniors shouldn't have been anywhere near Mandalorian space - apart from the Academy on Bandomeer… which might be the explanation she was looking for, actually. "Any word on the names? Who's gone missing in that timeframe?" If there truly were Junior Corpsmembers in trouble in Mandalorian Space then that should already have cast some waves throughout the greater Corps.

Ilian draws back, grimacing. "Well, they discovered it this morning, and so far all we know that the MediCorps is certain it's none of theirs. Wouldn't have made much sense anyways." 

Jeisel agrees there.

"We're waiting on the word from the AgriCorps," Ilian says, showing that his mind had jumped to the same place as hers, "With Bandomeer that close it could be them."

"All right," she reclines back into her chair, tapping away on the armrest, "Get someone on recon and bring me more infos. I’ll need to be able to justify this in front of the Council. Something that's not Charting guesswork and conspiracy theories."

#my fave bit: AssCards is the slang nickname for the AstroCharting subgroup of the ExploraCorps #the Aces started calling them that and it caught on #me writing #random boli thoughts

[airplanned]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Zoro and Sanji are both dumbasses, just in different ways.

--

Zoro's in the kitchen being underfoot, and just because he's in the damn way and he knows Zoro will hate it (haha!), Sanji smacks a kiss to his cheek.  Loud and popping and as annoying as he can possibly make it.  He's expecting Zoro to flail out an arm, to snarl at him and shout at him, and Sanji would laugh and laugh and laugh.  

He's not expecting Zoro to whip around in one smooth movement and slap his ass. Loud and popping and as annoying as he can possibly make it.

Sanji's soul jerks out of his body, leaving him stiff, wide-eyed, and frozen for a beat too long before he explodes with, "You fucking shitty lump of mold!"  

But Zoro's already out the door.  He shoots Sanji a grin over his shoulder that for a moment makes him look his age, and even as Sanji's skin and bones vibrate with indignation, the rest of his insides melt at the sight.  He should go after that idiot and drag him into a storage room.

He should go after him and punt him into the ocean.

It's impossible to decide which one is the more appealing option.

Fucking asshole.

He sighs and turns back to his meal prep.  But maybe his sigh was a bit too wistful, because Nami clears her throat.  He looks up to where Nami and Usopp have been sitting at the kitchen island.  

Sitting and watching.  

Usopp gives him a look like he's trying to do long division in his head and also has to sneeze.  Nami just looks exhausted.

"Please tell him not to do that in front of Luffy.  We don't need him getting ideas."

"Forget Luffy," Usopp says.  "Y'all shouldn't do that in front of me.  My eyes are delicate!"

Sanji laughs.  "No argument from me."  Except now that Sanji's had a moment, he's actually not against whatever that was happening again.  And, yeah, without other people around.  Yes.  Good.

"You did start it," Nami says.

"And Zoro finished it," Usopp adds.  They give him weirdly identical pitying looks.  Clearly, they've been hanging out together too much.

Sanji shakes his head.  "Look, he may have won that battle, but he won't win the war."

Nami blinks at him.  "The...war?"

"There's a winner?" Usopp asks.

Sanji nods. "That's what he says."

For a moment they both stare at him, but he's in agreement with them that it is an absurd game and Zoro makes no sense at all. While they're working through it in their heads, he chops more onions.

Nami's eyes are narrowed in thought as she slowly asks, "So...how does one win the war?"

"Oh!" Usopp jumps in. "Okay, so they're gonna get worse and worse until one day Sanji dares Zoro to marry him. Not just dare him, but double dog dare him.  That means you have to do it.  And then Zoro will say--" in what he must think is an impression of Zoro, Usopp frowns and glares off into the distance and says , "I never back down.  And then they'll get married!"

This explanation (although amusing) does not answer any questions and does not clear up anything for Nami.  "...That sounds like they both lose. No offense."

"None taken," Sanji says.  As if he'd dare Zoro to marry him.  We would never.

Well...actually... he could see picture it if he was in an extremely competitive mood, and he could see it if their fights escalated without Zoro backing down until they got to that point.  

But it's not like that would happen any time soon or anything.

"No no," Usopp explains. "You see, they'll both write their own vows, and whoever cries first when they read them loses."

"So...Sanji," Nami says.

"Oh yeah.  No doubt."

They both turn to give him pitying looks.  Identical pitying looks. 

"You're going to lose eventually," Nami says.  "No way around it."

"Yeah. Sorry, man."

"Just give up now and save us all from...that."  She waves a hand over her shoulder.

Sanji's not quite sure where to start with this.  They're making a big deal over nothing, and he has everything under control.  "Nami, it pains me to disagree with you--"

She throws her head back and groans.

"--But I will not be bested by sentient moss.  Don't worry.  I'll win before it escalates that far."

Now both of them are trying to do division and need to sneeze.  They turn to look at each other, holding some telepathic conversation.  (Way too much time together.)

"Okay, I'm out," Usopp announces, and Nami agrees with a, "Yep."

They both vanish from the kitchen without a decent goodbye.

#my fic #one piece

[impishtubist]

20 QUESTIONS FOR FIC WRITERS

I was tagged by seven of you (!!!) so here are my answers. Consider this an open tag, I have no idea who hasn't done this yet.

---

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

222 if you don't count the hidden ones, 245 if you do.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1.5 million (this does count the hidden ones because I'm too lazy to go subtract them from the total).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently HP and Good Omens, but I've written for 16 fandoms over the years, and you never know which one I'll go back to.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

-Finding Home (no longer available)

-the spaces between

-Da Capo (no longer available)

-Courtship Rituals (no longer available)

-quicken to the new life (no longer available)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes. I go through fits and spurts of either responding to every single comment, or responding to none. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate comments! But I'm already writing and posting fics for free, and responding to every comment is something that I don't always have the time or mental space for.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Fuck, idk. I don't know what's angst and what isn't. The Fall of Gods, maybe.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I write a lot of fluff, actually! Idk how I got a reputation as an angst writer, smh. The Trouble With Quidditch is pretty fluffy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh, sure. But it gets deleted.

9. Do you write smut?

Begrudgingly. It's extremely demoralizing as a writer to know that the only way a fic is going to get attention is if you put smut in it, so I do it sometimes just for the kudos/comments. But I hate every second of writing it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yep. I've done a HP/GO one, and some cracky Sherlock/Star Trek ones, and probably a few others I can't remember.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep, several of them into different languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! @allcanonisrelative is probably the person I've written with the most, but I've written with others as well.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

This changes by the hour so I literally can't answer this question. Maybe Aziraphale/Crowley?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Hm, I have a few unfinished fics on AO3, but I've already admitted that those won't be finished. I have a Sirius/Bellatrix + Sirius/Remus fic in my drafts folder that it would be nice to finish someday, but that will have to wait until I feel like writing Wolfstar again (which will probably be never, thanks to the Remus apologists).

16. What are your writing strengths?

None.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

Well, I know that it used to be standard that you would italicize it, and now you're not supposed to do that, so I no longer do. I also think that you shouldn't translate it! Especially not right there in the same line on the fic. If you're writing dialogue in another language, context clues should tell us enough about what the characters are saying that translation isn't needed.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek: TNG.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I never like anything I write, so idk. Price of Memory, maybe, because that one was at least a lot of fun to write.

#imp is writing #ask box game

[musicalchaos07]

An INCREDIBLY late WIP Wednesday

Jonathan shouldn't follow Nancy, it's wrong, weird and he’s pretty sure it’s criminal. He keeps trying to justify it, that he's just going to be helpful in case she runs into any trouble. But he knows that if she catches him, he’ll be in the wrong here. Then again, that would require him to catch her because as it turns out Nancy is very fast. He only left the school about five minutes after she did and he almost lost her already. Admittedly, it’s difficult in the rain but the bigger part of that is his own fault for not suiting up. But he figures it’s better for him to get caught by in her plain clothes than for Spiderman to get caught. Nancy nearly slips off the curb in the rain and he holds himself back from rushing to help her. To her credit, her near fall doesn’t affect her determination in the slightest she continues along her walk like nothing’s happened. It’s admirable, she’s admirable and he’s already in too deep. The signal changes just as he reaches the curb and he mumbles out a curse under his breath. He feels a sudden buzz from his pocket and takes his phone out to check who it is. He doesn’t recognize the number so he declines. But then they call again, and again and again. The fifth time he finally caves and swipes up. 

“What?” he spits into the phone.

“Jeez Byers can’t even say hello" Steve nags

“Steve?” he guesses, shifting his phone 

“The one and only" he quips

“Sorry” he mumbles 

“You owe me big time” Steve taunts 

“For what?” he demands back

“The girl Natalie or whatever” Steve clarifies

“Nancy” he corrects, just as she crosses another street. 

“Yea that’s what I said so anyways I’m thinking as payback you come to this boring charity thing I have to go to tomorrow.” Steve informs

“Since when do you go to charity events?” he scoffs

“Hey I went to all of your birthday parties growing up" Steve jokes 

“I really don’t have time for this" he snarks back

“Hey c’mon I’m kidding look you can bring Naomi" he offers 

“Nancy" he corrects again, astounded and a little angry that Steve can’t be bothered to remember her name. 

“Whatever you can bring her and we’ll hang out” he resolves. 

He wonders if this is just some sort of punishment for canceling the Hamptons Spring Break plans this morning. He hadn’t even called he just sent a halfhearted text that he has to work. Then Steve, confusing as ever, told him it was cool and asked him for Argyle’s number. Which he gladly gave, it must be part of some grand plan to get buddy-buddy with his roommate in order to convince him to go. As if their growing distance can be lessened by sharing a couple of joints in Montauk. 

“Why do you want me to go so bad?” he asks, thinking of the last time he actually saw Steve on Halloween. 

“Fel thinks it’ll be good for my image” Steve explains casually, as though he shed any light on the situation. 

“Fel?” Jonathan asks again

“Yea my publicist” he scoffs, like Jonathan’s question was stupid.

“You have a publicist?” he chuckles back in shock. 

“A lot of things can change in six months" Steve says clearing his throat. 

Jonathan wonders if Steve intended on making him feel even worse for everything’s that happened. Or if it’s just a consequence of his own actions. He lets the words linger, before making a decision. But he should know by now that patience is not a virtue Steve has. 

“Look man” Steve starts remorsefully, twisting the knife of guilt in Jonathan’s stomach further.

“I’ll think about it” Jonathan interrupts, he’s the one who should be apologizing not Steve. 

“Great I’ll send your tux in the morning” She exclaims, shifting his mood suddenly 

“My tux! Wait! Steve?”

Jonathan pulls the phone away from his ear but Steve has already hung up. He straightens back up trying to find Nancy’s pink Umbrella in the crowd. He spots her at the intersection looking at her own phone with an incredulous expression that makes him smile fondly. He’s so lost in his infatuation that he accidentally catches up to her at the cross walk waiting for the light. He stalls just a few inches behind her, panicking. As the traffic light turns red a car hits the brakes but swerves on the slippery street onto the sidewalk. And Nancy would’ve gotten hit if he hadn’t perceived the scene seconds before. Instead he’s safely pulled her back from the accident and has his hand gripped around her arm. In the swift rescue she lost grip on her umbrella and it’s now pathetically lying in the gutter, he tries not to think about how she would’ve been there too if he hadn’t followed her. His memory betrays him all the same with a flash of her bent body on Halloween and he shudders. 

“Asshole” she shouts at the driver as they backup onto the street. 

He should let go of her sweater and run off but with his own heart still racing he can’t bring himself to do it. Nancy spins around forcing him to let go prematurely. He didn’t think a person’s eyes could go that wide but she’s surprising as ever. 

“Were you following me?!?” she demands loudly

Shit. 

#like it's thursday on the east coast #so uh my bad #in my limited defense I was at work most of the day #everyone say Thank You Abby for prompting me to write today #stranger things #jancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #wip wednesday #Spidey Jancy AU #Jancy Spidey AU #Spidey Jonathan #my fic

[amostimprobabledream]

Writer Tag!

Thanks so much @blindmagdalena! How many works do you have on AO3? As of right now, 67. What's your total AO3 word count?

No idea lol.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? A Lungful of Smoke Quid Pro Quo The Trees Stood Witness The Beast You've Made of Me the beast you've made of me

I feel like three of these should be discounted because I wrote them in like 2017 - the Hawks one was literally when he was first introduced and we didn't even know his civilian name then.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, though not every comment - usually if they're just like "Part Two!" or "More plz!" I tend not to reply to those. I tend to worry about looking like I'm purposefully boosting my comment number by replying to them all.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Definitely "as the stars explode".

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I'm not sure, most of my fics are smut oneshots so I guess hitting the big O is a happy ending. "The Gift" was a pretty happy ending for Grimmjow and Reader.

Do you write crossovers? Not usually but that doesn't necessarily mean I never will.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes. Once I got a particularly stupid one about some girl getting salty that I spoiled a character's death - a character that had only appeared in the manga, so as an anime-only watcher she shouldn't have even been reading about him since she shouldn't know who he is if she hadn't already seen some spoilers.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I think it's pretty much all I write lol. I'm trying to branch out a bit but I worry people feel cheated with no sexy payoff.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I have, though this was back in like 2015 of a fandom I'm not naming out of embarrassment, and they reposted it to ff.net. Luckily I don't think Reader Inserts are permitted there so I'm assuming it got deleted anyway.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a couple of times! Mostly into Russian.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, though my Peaky Blinders OC fic is based off an RP I was doing with my friend, so some of it was partly written by her, which I'm repurposing with her permission. <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? I tend to not get too involved with shipping because I like ships that are more unusual and get tired of the same super-popular pairing getting shoved down my neck. That being said, I am forever salty Peaky Blinders set up Tommy/May in Season 2 and then inexplicably just sorta dropped it because May's actress got preggers. (I want them to finally get together for the movie so badly but I'm not holding out much hope.)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I like to think once my hyperfixation kicks in I'll go back to some fics I've ditched but I find multichapter stories difficult to commit to. I do want to continue with my Demon!Dabi story and that Dazai one I wrote one chapter of and then ditched. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm fairly good at dialogue and I try to put unique twists on concepts I've seen done before. I personally also enjoy the personalities I give to my Readers, I'm a bit picky with Readers in Reader Inserts (I hate it when they're either super passive and meek or aggressive af for no reason).

What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I have a bad tendency to skip a lot of exposition because I want to jump to dialogue. I also sometimes worry my writing is too beige prose-y and I should take my time a bit more. Also I am awful at finishing multichapter fics because I get distracted so easily. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I guess it depends on how it's used? I quite like it when people write characters with accents, I think it adds a nice flavour to stories. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fruits Basket and Naruto lol. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to I have a bunch of like, half-started Billy Butcher x Reader concepts but he's such a hard character to write for. I think it's because I don't get to discuss him nearly as much as Homelander. What's your favorite fic you've written? I'm personally pretty fond of "I'm neon phosporescent" for Dabi being a kinky bastard and "stardust in my eyes" as my first foray into The Boys.

No pressure tags: @librarianqueen @inkyveins @honeydazai-main and anyone else who wants to participate!

#Fanfiction #Writing #Ask game

[sarcasticfoxy]

🌤️

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

You threw hard one as I don't usually think much what I write in dialogue, or I think I don't xD

"Oh? And can I ask what you suspect yourself to be?"

Miyata seemed surprised that it was Madara asking that question and not Tobirama.

"Uh- I mean… Well, like I said I am physically stronger than normal civilians. And sometimes I think I know what other people are feeling."

"Yeah but you being physically stronger can be put down on your chakra. And you 'feeling' other people's emotions might just be you having strong empathy to others," Madara shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at Tobirama, "But do you see anything?"

I find this somewhat funny, for myself at least. hope you will enjoy it.

"You wouldn't understand until you lose all the people who are important to you! Maybe I should show you how it feels?" Sasuke's words are serious but Kakashi can't help but smile at Sasuke's words, which seem to confuse the boy.

"That could work, yeah. Sadly for you, all my precious people are already dead. And you shouldn't use Chidori on your teammate. We are both lucky we have friends that try to fill the void," Kakashi tells Sasuke. He leaves Sasuke with those words as his mind is full of memories of Rin's eyes that were watching him as he stabbed through her. Kakashi tries to keep his mind clear but he hasn't recovered from Itachi's attack as much as he would like. His imagination has been cruel to him lately and has not given him the gentle fingers petting his hair when he is still half asleep.

I know I have mostly pulled this from canon but I get to write kakashi being sensei~

I put two as I didn't know which one to choose.

#senju tobirama #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #tobirama senju #mdtb #madatobi #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #sarcasticfoxy answers #my fic

[ell-vellan]

WIP Weekend

I caught up on Shadow & Bone and finished Witcher season 3 this weekend, which gave me so much renewed inspiration, and I got lots of words in! So I want to share a bit, as I've been quiet so much lately. Steadily closing in on the end of this fic ❤️

@thebookworm0001 @thegoblinwitchqueen @beastofmoss and anyone who sees this, if you have something you want to share please consider yourself tagged! 🥰

----

Then Bull's smirk dropped, and so too did her stomach. "Listen...something you should know, as an op-sec thing. Me being in Orlais, at Halamshiral, there's a possibility of one of my old clients being there."

From the way Bull said the word, Ellawyn knew he didn't mean a client from his mercenary jobs.

Her gut went cold. "How much of a chance?"

"Slim, but not impossible. I'm having Josephine check the guest list. Some of them were nobles with minor holdings, or third in line to some title or another. But you know how these things change. And it's been a few years."

Ellawyn nodded, numb and stiff, retreating automatically to the protective front of the detached, professional Inquisitor. She was just receiving an operational security report from one of her agents – that was all this was. "Did they know you were Ben-Hassrath?"

"A couple. They might've told others, though."

Nausea and an accompanying self loathing rose in the back of her throat. Who else did you share the truth of yourself with, Bull?

Just as quickly, she shoved that doubt back down. She knew the answer. She wasn't jealous of ghosts.

But he answered the question as if she'd actually asked it. "We traded secrets for favors at the time. Didn't think it'd come back to bite me in the ass – never planned I'd be there long." He shrugged. "'Course, they wouldn't know I'm Tal-Vashoth now. I don't see how it could hurt us in the negotiations, but this shit is complex. Best not to leave it to chance. Maybe we can even use it."

"How many were there, in total?" She struggled keeping emotion out of her voice.

"Maybe fifteen? Over the course of, what, three years? Something like that. Didn't keep records. It was pretty informal, nobody wanted anything traced back to 'em. Mostly short term, couple months, one or two longer than that. I ended everything on decent terms when I left. Shouldn't be anyone out there with a personal axe to grind as far as I'm aware. But hey, never good to trust ambitious nobles to keep their noses out of other people's business."

He rattled this off coolly, just giving an intelligence report as he'd likely done a thousand times, but Ellawyn was having a hard time concentrating on the details. Belatedly she nodded, knowing she was frowning and not able to meet his eye, but hoping he would assume she was trying to work out a plan.

"I might not recognize them with the masks, but they'd sure as shit recognize me, so they'll have the advantage on us. And nobody likes that. So I wanted to give you the heads-up." He tilted his horns, examining her closely-guarded reaction like he could read the thoughts behind them. He probably could. "Don't want rumors to fly before we have a chance to contain them, is all."

"Thanks," she said, trying for casual, feeling how tight her voice was but unable to stop it. "I'll have Leliana, or – or maybe Josie get ahead of it."

Bull shrugged. "Already on it. I think Red will have things well in hand. I'm meeting with her and Viv later to discuss how to mitigate any issues. Maybe we can even spin this to our advantage, who knows. I just wanted you to hear it from me." He paused and peered at her a little closer. "You good?"

What could she say? She could barely open her mouth for fear of being sick, but she couldn't lie around him. "I'm...slightly south of good, but it's not anything you need to concern yourself with."

"Is it this?" He jerked his thumb behind him toward the room they'd just left. Then his eye narrowed. "Or what I said to Viv? Because–"

"No," she said quickly. "It's not that at all."

He peered at her. Read her. He'd told her she wasn't great at bald-faced lies, but she hadn't been lying.

"That wasn't serious, back there."

"I know."

"You jealous, El?" He crossed his arms, eyebrows at an incredulous height, a slight amused smirk on his lips.

"No." She let out a small breath. "I don't care about Madame de Fer. Honestly, I don't know how to feel about this. I'm...closer to being intimidated."

"By Viv?"

"By being surrounded by your past," Ellawyn admitted with a breath. "It doesn't bother me. But the thought of people whispering behind their masks about you. What they'll think or assume when they see us together. Knowing who you are, knowing more about you than I do–"

"They don't," he cut in firmly. "They only know what I show 'em. And they'll only know what you show them, too."

#my writing #i could not figure out what excerpt to use! but i like this scene and it's a long time coming #also do people generally understand what op-sec means? idk #wip weekend