First Fanfic - Blog Posts

hey are you able to write something for dutch where his s/o has an awful nightmare and he comforts her?

Hello, thank you for the request ! I tried, it's a bit short but I hope you'll like it :)

Dutch comforting his S/O who had a nightmare

Pairing : Dutch van der Linde x Reader

Warnings : mentions of blood

Tags : angst, fluff,

A/N : As I am very new to writing, this is my first "fanfiction" ever. I am open to criticism as long as it's not too rude, I hope you'll like it anyways :)

Fire, fire everywhere. The camp was destroyed, flames licking the canvas of the tents. You were standing in front of you and Dutch's tent, petrified by the vision before you. Everyone was dead, their lifeless bodies lying on the floor next to your feet. Your hands were covered in their blood. The Pinkertons had come and burned the camp to the ground. They mercilessly slaughtered your friends -- your family. You felt as if you were drowning, despair submerging you, smothering you as you gasped for air, your sight grew dim and-

Your eyes opened wide. Your chest rose and fell back down a few times, and you tried unsuccessfully to regain control of your breath. Tears were rolling down your face without a noise. You instinctively wiped your forehead with your forearm, but all you removed was sweat. A nightmare, again. It was not unusual for you to have those, but it has been happening more and more often lately. As silently as you could, you rolled over to see Dutch's back facing you. At least I didn't wake him up, you thought. He was tired as of late, the gang's dangerous situation had taken a toll on him. The last thing you wanted to do was tire him even more.

The camp was silent. Everyone had gone to sleep for at least an hour now; There was no sound but the occasional singing of a cuckoo. Careful not to make any noise that could awaken your lover, you slowly stood up. As you were walking out of the tent, you heard a low voice behind you.

“Come back, sweetheart. What happened?”

You felt your whole body become tense. So he heard everything, you thought. His voice was enough to make the tears you tried to repress flow. You crawled back into the cot, facing Dutch as he was now turned to face you. 

“Had a nightmare… These bastards killed everyone but me,” you whispered with a shaky voice, sobbing. You hated this feeling that was creeping over you; you felt like this was just gonna worry Dutch even more. But your thoughts were interrupted by his sleepy voice.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He slowly cupped your cheek. “You know I would never let these men come here.”

He looked at you with concern, as he lovingly moved his hand to your chin. He gently brought your lips to his, fondly kissing you. His facial hair softly tickled you, but you didn’t mind.

“I had your blood on my hands, Dutch. I felt so hopeless..”

“Look at me.” He grabbed one of your hands and kissed it countless times. “Those hands will never get dirty as long as I am here,” he said as he pulled you close to him and embraced you tightly.

  You wished you could stay here forever, protected in his strong arms as the hand that didn’t hold your chin was affectionately stroking your back. 

“You are safe. We are safe. Alright, dear?”

“I love you, Dutch.”

“I love you too. Now come here.”

He laid flat on his back and gently grabbed your arm to help you move yourself on top of him. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as you smelled his comforting Cologne scent. His arms rested on your back, securing you in place as the two of you fell back asleep, the only thing on your mind being how lucky you were to have Dutch.

a/n: This is my first ever fanfic so bear with me. There is no content of this man so I wrote something because ahhhh

warning: this is not proof read (I’m dyslexic) and is probs terrible

summary: Readers saves Jim yay

It had already happened. It was too late to save Jim. He was the victor and he was about to claim his price. A part of him knew something was wrong, he could tell by the eagerness of officer rick, hand resting on his gun.

He looked down through the crowd of people dancing, all the happiness and love shared by the people that made the room warm and humid. Then he saw her, the girl who came to stop this stupid tradition. But the animalistic nature of teenage boys was too much for one girl to stop.

She had a-lot of rumors around. People said she went off the deep end after her only friend, the winner of last year’s run left town. Jim always admired her from a far, the beauty of the girl was something he had never witnessed before. It was like the universe had made him just for her. He never looked in her eyes until after he killed sawtooth jack, when he did, he saw someone who looked as though someone had just savagely murdered their best friend. And in a way he did.

After the crowd lifted him the air and the wave of adrenaline came down, he went to her as she wept over sawtooths body.

She explained everything.

He was going to die.

Jim walked through the crowd to the girl. Letting her magnetism pull him in. She walked to him, because in this universe she felt the same. Meeting in the middle of the dance floor they made a plan. To leave this stupid town.

He knew what needed to be done, but she was the one who had the heart to do it. They met at the crossing, a shotgun and pistol were loaded into the car and they simply drove away.

The sheriff wasn’t far behind, but they knew what they had to do to stop him. The car reached a screeching halt, one look was shared between the two. After Jim left the car and followed the sheriff to grave that had been dug dozens of times. She followed. And so did death.

One shot for the sheriff, and one for the farmer.

Once back on the road it was clear, even though they had stopped the cycle, all they had become was monsters themselves.

As they drove to freedom through the night there were no words shared just grief for the people they left behind, the people who didn’t get the treatment of a victor.

It was vowed that next year they would save Richie, to give him the same freedom they were yet to share.

I have a fic i make that i wanna share with you:D

So, I wrote this fanfic here, it's a classic one of those where the League has no brain and has never met Bruce's children or even knows his identity, everyone thinks he's some kind of cryptid, and being the way he is, the bat never confirmed but also never denied the allegations, and then he bitterly regrets it when this leads everyone to believe that Nightwing is his husband, and the Batkids have a great time with this unique opportunity, later on I also intend to add Young Justice and the Titans to the pranks. I hope you like it!

Here is! But just to you know, the updates may be not coherents.

And this also makes part of a series named "Wrong dynamics" where i wrote those fics to traine and etc.

Detached

(by me! i made this <333)

(TW: DISSOCIATION/DEREALIZATION FOR THE FANFIC)

SUMMARY:

He felt like he was on autopilot.

Sometimes it was his default when he got stressed. When a disaster comes out of the blue and he has to be the one to save them all, when the mission seems like something he can’t handle, and when he has to put on a brave face for his crew, he shuts down and detaches his mind from his body.

He goes numb, completely numb, and his body moves without a second thought. He becomes the Captain everyone knows him to be; fearless and reliable. Even as fear makes his blood freeze, he doesn’t show that he’s scared. He straightens his back, takes in a breath, and moves.

–

Or: Captain Barnacles’ detaching himself from a stressful situation that brings back unhappy memories.

Just wanting to know what yall are thinking about them because I haven’t heard much feedback and I’m a nervous bean 🙊

Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (mech pilot AU)

Author note: sorry for not updating for awhile but here is chapter 2! Might release chapter 3 today…

Chapter 2

Spinister. That name meant nothing to you but clearly he was a force to be reckoned with. You look sideways at the lambo twins just in time to see them shift anxiously on their peds. You look to Bee for confirmation.

“Are we rushing them or are we going to regroup.”

There was a moment of silence and then a deep rumbling started behind you. You turned to see sideswipe with his denta bared in rage. You remembered the bot had revealed the Decepticons had razed his town back on cybertron. The twins lost everyone they knew. His servos flexed at his side.

“I’m taking them NOW!”

Before anyone else could react he darted from behind the iron doors and into the cavern.

“Wait Sides no!”

Bee shouts after him. His twin on his heels and Cliffjumper cursing in Cybertronian as he launches himself in as well. Michael whoops from behind you and dives forward leaving only you and Bumblebee. The scout mumbles a muted “Primus…” before gesturing for you to follow him. The scene is in chaos. Both lambo twins had jumped Spinister and had the con firing aimlessly trying to shake them off. Shockwave was aiming his cannon at Cliff who was occupied trying to grab the humans who hadn’t been turned into red goop.

Michael leapt at Shockwave, grabbing his cannon in his mech’s massive servo and crunching the barrel on the end so it couldn’t fire. He looked at Michael as if he hadn’t seen him before. Tilting his head and examining him before taking action. The con took a swing, knocking Michael to send him sprawling into Cliffjumper who had just seconds ago safely tucked the two survivors in his subspace. The two knocked into Spinister who brought his ped down hard on Michael’s arm. You launch yourself at Shockwave who turns as if surprised to see you just as he had done with Michael.

‘Is he partially blind?’ You think as he examines you before muttering to himself. The fins on his expressionless faceplate flaring out as he brings a massive servo up to swat you out of the way. Instead his digits close around the arm of your mech and he begins dragging you towards a familiar circle of light. A ground bridge. When did that open up? Alarm jangles through you as you realize what’s about to happen.

“Spinister stop playing. It’s time to go. We got what we came for.”

Came the growling, deep voice from above you. Shockwave didn’t even look at you as you struggled in his grip. The other Decepticon breaking free of the twins and joining the scientist near the bridge. You desperately com the others, screaming into your mic for help. The expression of horror on Bumblebee’s faceplate was the last thing you see as you are dragged through the ground bridge to wherever the cons are taking you. His voice cut off as the swirling light envelops you.

“Sera! Wait shockwave! That’s not—”

The awful pulling sensation of the ground bridge nearly makes you pass out as Shockwave drags you along. You aren’t even standing now, the scientist has his fist locked around your wrist. The sound of scraping metal and the smell of ozone cloud your senses. It’s dark here. The halls lit with an almost sterile purple glow. You pass drone after drone. None looking your way as you dangle from the fist of the enemy. After passing through several corridors and through double doors, you enter what you think must be his lab. The feeling you get when you enter makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel it even through the split consciousness. Goosebumps erupting on the skin of the small body inside you. Insidious was an understatement. Tools and gadgets lined shelf after shelf. An assortment of wicked looking drills lay on a tray next to an inverted table.

Without saying a word or even glancing your way, Shockwave lifts you to rest against that inverted table. As if you weigh nothing at all. Cuffs lock around your hand, pinning it in place. You try to keep your other hand out of his reach. Using the fact that his cannon is damaged to your advantage and kicking at him with your peds. He takes the blows, not even moving when you kick at him. Reaching around he wrenches your other arm up to join the other. You let out a growl deep within your chest. Fear mixing with anger now as you watch him above you. Just observing you. Quietly curious and unsettling.

“Your energy signature is non existent. But you do not have an active cloaking device.”

He pauses for a moment to scan my chassis.

“What are you.”

It was framed more as a statement than a question. Gritting your denta you snarl back at him. Trying to make seem like none of this scares you. He doesn’t react when you make the sound. Rather, he turns to the display mounted near the table and studies the scan. You can see that it reveals the tiny organic body inside your chest. Your body, you remind yourself. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you aren’t Cybertronian. He whips around digging a massive servo into your chest plating and prying open the compartment. It hurts. Pain ripping through your receptors to make you scream. Writhing against his grip as you fade in and out of consciousness from the sudden trauma. Energon leaks from the proto-armor underneath your plating protecting your small form inside. You vent raggedly as he grabs a scalpel and slices at your metal flesh to reveal the cockpit where you sit. Unconscious and slumped over in the gel seat, your body feeling delicate and exposed again.

“Stop stop stop! You can’t!”

And he’s reaching again. Gentle digits now curling around your body before you even have a chance to run disconnection protocols. You can feel your consciousness bouncing back and forth between the two vessels as the pneumonic needle slides uncomfortably out of the back of your neck. Gasping in a breath, you open your eyes. Wet with tears as you try to come awake. White light clouds your vision and sounds are muffled as the red glow of the scientist’s lone optic bathes you in ruddy light. Groaning incoherently, you hear him make a deep rumbling sound. One you’ve heard before when the auto bots speak Cybertronian to one another. Your mech had been translating this whole time. You shake your head trying to clear it. You didn’t know any Cybertronian and couldn’t communicate with him without your mech.

Before you can process what’s happening, he dumps you into a glass tube and sets it on a table next to your mech. You watch as he walks towards the door and leaves you there disoriented and unable to move. Your limbs feel achy and you can still feel the phantom pain of your chest being ripped open. Hands moving over your body you don’t feel any actual injuries. He hadn’t been rough with your actual body now that you think of it. His hands had been warm and gentle when he lifted you free of your mech. Looking around you try to get your bearings. It takes a moment for you to get your feet under you to stand, your legs shaky and weak. You only topple back down to the cold glass floor of the container when you try to move. Giving up, you lay there hoping sleep will take you and the pounding in your head will cease.

🎀Masterlist🎀

Not currently doing commissions but I love asks and requests!

(This blog is for fun only)

Blog rating: 16+ (I include TW if needed)

Hey there it’s rocketeer!

Below is my master list. My blog is Transformers and Star Wars only so enjoy! I am an artist (BFA in 2D studio art) and an aspiring writer. I just post nonsense and stuff I love. Feel free to ask me anything or request!

Rendezvous (StarscreamXReader)

Rendezvous

Rendezvous part 2

Rendezvous part 3

Rendezvous part 4

Rendezvous part 5

Rendezvous part 6

Transformers X Mech Pilot

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

IDW Starscream X Reader

Rendezvous

Warnings: none

Synopsis: While on patrol, the SIC discovers a quiet place he can get away from it all. Unfortunately, so did a certain troublesome little human.

Author note: (I’ve never written fanfic before but I wanted a slow burn romance with no smut only fluff so here I am. I am not a professional writer and this is my first time posting fanfic!)

It had been one of those days you felt like running away from it all. You drove furiously down the winding road you took to work every day. Music blaring and fists clenched on the wheel. Snow had fallen the night before making the foliage glisten as your car screamed past the quiet trees. You needed more time to yourself. Just a few more hours until you had to go home. It’s not like you wouldn’t be alone anyway. You lived by yourself in the middle of nowhere, in a house given to you when your mother passed away last year. The memories in that house plagued you almost as much as your idiot coworkers. Taking a deep breath in, you turn onto the unmarked path that led to the lake. The moon was full, casting ethereal silver light over the icy water. This time of year you knew it was frozen solid. Enough for your favorite passtime, ice skating. It had been years since you had been here. Good memories began to surface as you parked the car and got out. Breathing in a lungful of painfully fridged air. A smile crawled its way across your lips. This was exactly what you needed.

Starscream stalked through the halls of the base. His wings flicking irritably. Another unfruitful scout for energon had left him with the fury of his glorious leader. He flexed his servos itching for something to take his frustration out on. He shouldered past Thundercracker, the other seeker raising a hand in greeting but stopping when he saw the look on his face. He missed the days when he and his trine had been able to spend more time together. But those feelings were currently overshadowed by the unyielding rage he felt. He tried to ignore the sting in the side of his helm where Megatron had drove his fist, making it clear once again that failure meant pain. Venting his frustration to the cold night air, he transformed wanting to be anywhere but here. Flying his usual patrol route he spotted the perfect place far enough away from those miserable humans. A lake, surrounded by mountains and covered in ice. A clearing of large rocks sat underneath a cliff nearby. Perfect to take out his grievances on. He landed skidding so a halt, nearly bowling into one of the big rocks. Instead he sent his fist through it, shattering the massive stone and yelling his frustration to what he thought was an empty night sky.

You had since donned your old skates and a heavier coat. Pulling on the leather skates felt like coming home. Something familiar and exciting. You had taken lessons in your teens and still remember it like it was yesterday. Putting on your favorite playlist, you slide gracefully onto the ice. The moon is bright enough to light the entire lake as you enjoy the solitude. Your breath billowing in eerie curls from your mouth as you remember the steps to a routine you learned. Spinning gracefully, forgetting the awful day you had at work. Peace didn’t last long though as a massive boulder comes hurtling from behind you. Narrowly missing your head and plummeting straight through the thick ice. You barely have time to react before you are sent flying. A scream of fear cut short as you plunge below the ice into the inky water.

Starscream swung his helm around at the sound of your shriek. A human? Or an animal? Something was here with him. He stalked through the trees towards where he had sent that stone flying. He hoped it would land satisfyingly in the middle of that frozen lake. On his approach he saw it in fact met its mark. That’s when he noticed the human vehicle parked near the shore and a small pale hand scrabbling at the edge of the ice. For a moment he thought about just flying away. He wouldn’t have to deal with whatever it was. It was just a human. Right? But something made him stop and reach out a massive hand, scooping you from the water. When he lifted you towards his face to examine you, he noticed something alarming. You weren’t moving. A tinge of guilt gripped his spark. He hadn’t meant to cause harm to the thing. All these years on earth and he hadn’t let himself get this close to its squishy little inhabitants. It looked startlingly like a Cybertronian sparkling. His optics narrow as worry grips him. Poking you with a servo gently to push you over onto your back in his hand, he presses it cautiously to your chest. Your little heartbeat is there, but it’s faint. He vents in exasperation. The night wasn’t meant to go like this.

Captain Rex x GN!Reader {part one}

AN!: Reader is a medic for the 501st and has a fat ass crush on Rex, but of course nobody knows. [at least not yet! ;)] Also, this is my first fic! I'm open to constructive criticism so feel free to lmk if there's more I can improve on! Summary: As transmissions are received, a dire mission is begun to protect the Republic and quite possibly end the war. As assignments are given out your hope sparks up at the chance of a night out with your favorite captain, even if it's just for a mission, you'd be able to be closer than ever with him. word count: 433

Although it was a relatively easy mission, it was dangerous, and you really couldn’t get past the task of it. As the end of the year creeps up on Coruscant, so does the ball. Every year’s end, Coruscant would host a galaxy wide ball, celebrating the victories and positive happenings of the year. But this year would have a change, a masquerade ball with guests, guests who could be anyone.

After a recent mission to Felucia, General Skywalker and Echo had found a way to track Separatist transmissions and somehow the system still goes un-noticed. After monitoring transmissions for what seemed like months, Ahsoka and Barriss had managed to find a transmission between Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress about word of a masquerade ball happening on Coruscant, which would let relatively anyone in. Ahsoka and Barriss immediately caught onto the plan and told the rest of the Jedi Council. Asajj Ventress would be infiltrating the ball, along with another partner, and sabotaging the systems and sending out a full-on attack on Coruscant while the infamous General Grievous would kidnap the chancellor. Due to the severity of the situation the council collectively made the decision to have a few jedi and clones go undercover to stop the ambush. Jedi Quinlan Voss, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano would go undercover as attendees to the ball.

General Skywalker and General Kenobi decided to take their best men to go with them, due to their excellent blaster and battle skills, which would come in handy when, if the fight broke out.

As the word of the mission reached the Barracks your body flooded with excitement, then you reminded yourself: you’re just a medic they wouldn’t pick you out of anyone. As General Skywalker Addressed the men you got lost in your thoughts, He was sure to be paired with Ahsoka. After all, they had fought together for ages, so why would you be chosen? General Skywalker and General Kenobi called you over to the war room, where you would be given an assignment. “Wait-‘ you thought. ‘Why am I getting assigned a job? Your heart skipped a beat as you dreamed of the opportunity of going on an undercover mission, let alone with him.

 You entered the war room and saw General Skywalker, General Kenobi, Rex, Fives, Echo, Cody, Waxer, and boil staring at you. You hadn’t realized it, but they sure did. Unknowingly, your cheeks were a perfect lookalike shade of Meiloorun juice, and your face adorned with a bright smile. “Looks like someone ready for the mission. Let’s get started.” Began General Skywalker.

Love and Affection

Note: This is my first fluff fic on Tumblr! But feel free to make suggestions if you want!

You impatiently waited for Anakin to get back from his particularly long mission so you both could relax and enjoy each other's company. You could barely recall the last time where you both sat down cuddled, talked and became all lovey-dovey. You paced back and forth, the royal blue satin train of your dress gliding smoothly behind you as you turned and walked. "I'm sure Master Skywalker should be arriving soon, Miss." C-3PO reassured you. " Thank you." You said with an overly sweet smile as you tried to think of what could possibly be holding him up for this long. Then, you heard the door slide open and you turned to see your Padawan, in all his sweat and tired glory, smiling at you sweetly. You ran and practically jumped on him, hugging him tightly and sighing, his arms instantly wrapped around you as he hugged you back. "Ani, you're back!" You exclaimed, pulling away to look at his face. "Of course, my love. I'll always come back for you." He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss against your lips. You gazed into his eyes, content with this moment. " Do you want to cuddle or..?" You asked, and he chuckled. "A shower would be nice first. Did you make dinner already?" Anakin asked as he left the main room to go to your guys' shared bedroom, getting undressed and ready to take a quick and much needed shower. You shook your head and hurried to get something started. Minutes pass and you hear the shower turn on, knowing he got in already you place Roast Porg on the table, you waited patiently for him to get out and eat with you. Minutes turn to hours as the food gets cold in waiting for him, and knowing the mission lasted about a month, you waited without complaint, he needed this. Then, you hear the shower turn off and muffled shuffling, you heat the food up and continue waiting. Anakin is out in a few more minutes and sits in front of you, smiling warmly and lovingly at you. " How was your mission?" You ask, wanting to get a conversation going. "It was successful. Obi-Wan thought I could handle it. Going to another planet, far away." He looked at you and began eating. "How about you, how was your month?" Anakin's eyes glanced over your face curiously. "It was lonely, I missed you." You replied, looking at him as well; your eyes locked. He smiled. " What? You were afraid I died or something?" He said jokingly. "Of course not. I am no fool to how keen and aware you are." You replied, seriously. The two of you let those words hang in the air as he finished eating and you averted your eyes to look at something else. " Well... do you want to cuddle?" He suggests and you turn to look at him, smiling slightly. " Duh!" He smiles warmly and lovingly at you and stands up, completely forgetting about the dish of his. You both walk to the nearby living room couch and you sit down on it, waiting for him with a happy demeanor. He sits down next to you and you both hug, he leaves little pecks on your cheek as you warmly embrace him. You relished moments like this, when you two could just sit down and forget about everything else. "How about one of those cheesy holofilms?" Anakin asked, smirking. You nodded and you got off and practically ran to find one you both liked. It was a sort of hobby of your guys' to watch movies together, although Anakin found some really shallow or just too cheesy, he secretly liked them because he's a big romantic. You click the play button on the film and run back over to Anakin and he wraps his arms around you as the movie started.

Hey, I made a fanfic. It's my very first one so please give me some input on what I could improve. Thanks y'all!!!

Here is my life is strange fic:

I really enjoyed writing this, and updated it soon.

Remember this is a Warren centered fic.

He also goes through it😳!!

I’m super new at this, but I am in the process of finishing the first chapter of a two Chapter life is strange fanfic, with it being entirely Warren-centered. Keep in mind this is my first time writing a fanfic so go easy on me when I eventually release the first chapter on Ao3😳😭

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Cult of the Lamb (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Chemach (Cult of the Lamb), Original Cult of the Lamb Character(s), Original Follower Character(s) (Cult of the Lamb) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Mirror Universe, Original Character-centric, My First Work in This Fandom, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Tags Are Hard, Anthropomorphic, Constructive Criticism Welcome Summary:

A young moth boy and his sister set out to try and get an apple from the village leader. Things get complicated however when they come across a strange blue duck.

Just wrote my first Sonadow fanfic! Well, at least the first chapter. It’s an idea I’ve had in my head for a while, and I finally just wrote it out lol. Here’s the summary below if anyone is interested!

Slow burn Sonadow :) Sonic finally convinces Shadow to open up a little more, which ends up going a long way over time. The first chapter is kinda like a long prologue that leads to the beginning of Shadow and Sonic getting closer. Each chapter after will be little one shot-type stories in the same storyline that all lead up to, y’know, relationship and feelings lol. While Sonic and Shadow are young adults in this, there will be no sm*t. If anything there may be some tension, but mostly few and far between. I’m expecting about 4-5 more chapters before the romance really blossoms, but don’t worry, there will be a lot of cute and romantic things building up to that point. Also, final thing. While I try my best to write the characters as accurately as possible, I will be inserting my own head canons ofc. Anyways, hope you enjoy! And feel free to comment tips or suggestions!

Is the title still a work in progress, or are the hedgehogs a work in progress? You decide :)

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022

I got a lot of inspiration and motivation from @whoopsyeahokay series called October Sun if you haven't read it yet I recommend you do its amazing, you can find it on tumblr and Ao3. October Sun

(This is very self indulgent and based on things ive been through and how I could have very easily ended up as a ghost. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness. This is a judgment free zone so I want no bullying or hate on anyone. I'm not the best writer so be nice)

1.9k Words

Enjoy :)

-

Two days, two fucking days you’ve been rotting and no ones come to find you. Well no one alive at least. 

It started off normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another boring school day with the same washed out boring people. Tired eyes and even more tired souls. So what changed? A little slip up on the same thing that had almost claimed your life many times over the years except this time no one was there to save you. 

You were 14 when you first learned the only way for your brain to stop spinning, trying to find a new way to obtain peace was with a very simple little thing. Weed, this wasn't what was deadly, no it was what started the cycle. First it was weed, then it was alcohol, then it was late night parties, until one day it fell into the palm of your hand. A simple little pill, how could it cause so much damage? Things were fine until one pill turned into two then two turned into three and then you ended up on the patio of a stranger's porch foaming out the mouth. 4 days in the hospital and 2 weeks in rehab was enough to scare you for a while, but not enough to make you forget about the relief that came with it. 

That's how you ended up here, sitting in a circle sharing stories about life and death, a group of highschool boys who had no idea you were even there, playing basketball behind you. Should have just gone to group like you were told to, at least then you would have been with people who understood addiction. Now judgmental eyes fall upon you because you caused your own death. As much as you wanted to find someone, something to blame you knew you couldn't, this was your fault. The spinning hasn't stopped. At least ghosts couldn't go through withdrawal, doesn’t change the fact that the empty feeling you tried so desperately to fill is more presint than ever.  

The sweet voice of Mr.Martin fills the room. Like white nose until you heard him call your name. Head shooting up to look up at him. “Have you started working on your obituary?” Ah yes, ghost homework. you would have never thought that you would have been asked to write your own obituary yet here we are. Not as easy as it sounds.

“I’ve got some ideas” Like when you got so drunk you threw up on your friends cat, or when you were so high that your brother convinced you the plane flying over your house was a UFO, fun memories. Apparently you were supposed to write about the good parts of your life but that's kinda hard when the only good memories you had were caused by what put you in this situation to begin with. 

“Take your time, if you need to im sure some of the others wouldn't mind telling you about what they wrote, for motivation.” You give a simple nod, wanting all the prying eyes around you to look away. And they do, except a certain pair that had been watching you since you got here. 

Wally Clark, a sweet boy, bright future, died to soon like everyone else in this fucked up version of your own personal hell. He asked too many questions, it wasn't a secret how you died, just something you didn't want to talk about.  He respected that, like most of the others, most. Doesn't stop him from prying, staring with curious eyes. 

“I think that's all for today,  don't forget tomorrow's movie night as always our newest member will be picking the movie.” You give an awkward smile before standing up and turning to leave along with the rest of the group. Heavy footsteps creeping up behind you and the sound of your name being called stops you as the tall boy catches up.

“So um do you need help with your obituary? not to brag but I think I did a pretty good job on mine.” Wally was quite attractive, tall, with big brown eyes, and slick back brown fluffy hair. No doubt having made girls fawn over him during his lifetime. You and him weren't exactly friends but the idea of having a little help writing… well, a self obituary wasn't bad. 

“Sure, we could go to the library.” An excited grin grew on Wallys face, not expecting you to say yes. 

“Yeah, yeah the library sounds great” It was kinda cute how he acted sometimes. Not like a typical jock, a pure golden retriever. 

“Cool” You stand there kinda awkwardly, hands in the pockets of your red zip up hoodie as you gave him an expecting look. 

“Oh like now?” He was somehow the most confident yet most awkward person in the world. “Um okay yeah that works” 

You tilt your head sideways towards the door leading out the gym, indicating for him to follow you out. Taking the lead and making your way out, opening the door for him. “Ladies first” He let out a small chuckle at your attempt at a joke, considering it was the first time you really talked to anyone since everything happened. It wasn't that you didn't like people, you just didn’t understand the point of friends. It might sound depressing but having a small group of people that you know will stick around is better than hanging around people that barely know you. Yet here you are, stuck with strangers for eternity or until you finally move on, however long that’ll take. 

The hallway was filled with loud teens, some rushing to their next class others going out the back door, more than likely skipping. “So how does this work?” You look over at him.

“What? The afterlife?” He looks at you, a little nervous. “I don’t think im the best person to explain it to you, that's more of Charley's thing.” Charley was sweet, the first person you met when you woke up. Some sort of after life guide. 

“No, a self obituary.” The words felt weird coming out your mouth. “I know I'm supposed to write about all the great things in life but I don't think huffing nitrous in my uncles bathroom on thanksgiving really counts as a good memory.” 

“Nitrous? like the shit in whipped cream?” He gave you a sideways look, a concerned but humored smile on his face. 

“Yes, the shit in whipped cream, I don't recommend. I passed out and almost had a seizure.” As we reach the library he opens the door, allowing you to go in first. 

“Okay, maybe don’t include that in your obituary, how about” He thought for a second. “Write about your friends and family, I'm sure you have some good memories with them.” 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you sat down at a table, Wally sitting down across from you as you take off your backpack, pulling a pencil and the folder Mr.Martin had given you. “That's too much work, do you think Mr.Martin would notice if I just copied yours?” Wally laughs a little, his straight white teeth showing.

“No, he’ll totally believe that you played football and lost your virginity in your moms car.” Now you’re the one laughing, his sentence coming out way too casually. 

“You lost your virginity in your moms car?” You take a few seconds to process before you look at him judgmentally. “You included how you lost your virginity?” Though the smiles’ still apparent on your face. 

“Happy memories, remember?” And there's the jock attitude you were waiting for, somehow a bit surprising but not unexpected. “You could just write your feelings.” You have a whole journal for that from when you got sober… soberish. 

“This may come as a shock to you but I'm not exactly a feelings person.” Not totally true, it was just easier to not feel anything at all, especially with the situation you're in right now. 

“Really? I couldn't tell” The sarcastic tone in his voice very apparent. “Alright fine, if you were happiest when you were high then it's worth writing.” 

“Great, so high stories, got it” Though it wasn't the best idea, you had to write something so Mr.Martin would get off your ass about it. Reminiscing was a slippery slope, you were holding up decently so far but contrary to what all the others think it hurt deep down. “How about the first time I tried molly?” Probably one of the best ‘happy pills’ you tried in your lifetime. 

“What was it like?” He clearly had no intentions of finding out first hand, just curious of the experience. 

“It made me really aware but like in a good way.” There was no real way to describe it without going into depth. “And kinda trippy I guess, does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He knew he could never truly understand, no one could unless they experienced it themselves. As you begin to jot down the memory Wally peaks over, looking at the page though it's not very useful due to the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to read upside down. 

“Nosey” You laugh a little at his attempt to get to know you better. “You know if you want to get to know me, maybe there are better ways to do it then helping me write my own obituary” Yep, still didn't sound right.  

“Oh um yeah, this is probably a really weird first hang out.” He laughs awkwardly at the realization that this is still new to you. It wasn't like he had never been around a new ghost before, he knew he was supposed to be slow, supportive, ease them into it but with the way you acted sometimes made him think you were more used to this than he was. In a way you were, death was something that you had imagined so many times so when it actually came the idea of being trapped wasn't one you hadn't thought of before. “How about after we're done with this I could take you down to the pool?” 

You smile, the sentiment was sweet. “Thanks, but I don't know how to swim.” You were never taught and it didn't seem important in life so you just never learned. The surprised look on Wallys face was priceless.

“How the hell are you 18 and don’t know how to swim?” It wasn't judgmental, just a little surprised, but the grin on his face indicated that he had an idea. 

“Oh god, what are you thinking about?” You knew what was coming, he wouldn't be him if he didn’t jump at the opportunity to help a new friend. Wally was very readable and you didn’t know if that was a good thing yet. 

“I could teach you.” And there it was, of course he wanted to teach you. “It could be fun, plus you don't have much else to do.” 

“You know what fuck it, you’re right there isnt shit else to do.” Especially with your body still laying cold in the old abandoned locker rooms aka ‘the brain cave’. 

“Great, you should keep writing, the faster you get it over with the less weird it feels.” And that's how it started, you were never the friend type but as much as you hated to say it you needed someone. Sure that someone is very attractive and the idea of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks was a nice image but who could blame you? The afterlife is lonely.

Pt.2

Hello Tumblr! I have something for you all:

FANFICTION

More specifically, the first chapter of a fanfic that I’m writing! It’s an ULTRAKILL and RWBY crossover fic, and it’s my first fanfic ever, so it’ll be imperfect, but hopefully it’ll at least be fun to read!

hopeless

It goes like this.

A snake meets an angel in a garden of peace and figures that knowledge was more important than that peace. The angel believes they were not destined to be. He gives a sword to the first two humans, and does not fall.

The snake is decidedly not jealous.

He will never be jealous of not falling, because it was what he was always meant to do anyways, wasn’t he?

He was always meant to go down in a blaze of searing flesh and bone and fire, fire, flames that burnt him and swirled around him as he screamed and screamed but it wouldn’t stop, it would never ever stop because all his tears were evaporating and it’s like they never existed and it’s been so long now, is this his new forever? Is this what he is meant to be? Merely an angel for an instant, a plaything to be thrown away for simply asking the wrong questions at the wrong time?

Is this his fault?

(If all the tears he cried wouldn’t have gone up in smoke, maybe they would have been the water to fill the ocean).

It’s fine.

It’s what he was made for, to be tested. The angel wasn’t.

He was fine.

Anyways, he may have gone and fallen in love with said angel.

He was just so wonderful and sweet and genuine, and he was everything the demonic snake would never be. In fact, the demon hadn’t even known that he could love anything until now.

He wasn’t supposed to love anything at all, but here he was, stupidly pining for someone who could never love him.

Hopeless.

—

It goes like this.

Holy water is passed from an angel to a demon, no longer in the form of a snake, and it doesn’t burn the demon. It doesn’t even touch his skin. Not for a second did he even think it would.

They have changed a whole lot since they met, but they have sown trust, and they have sown a bond. A new bond.

Never before has there been a pair of genuine friends that consisted of a demon and an angel, never before has there been a pair that has come close to even fraternization. Not even after the six thousand years they had known each other.

And yet...

He is still going too fast for the angel.

And he doesn’t know how.

“Too fast?!” He throws a plate to the floor, and it shatters. The shards scatter all around the room, and it almost desperately trying to get away from him, hiding under the sofa and under the space between the counters and the floor. His plants are shaking like they never have before, terrified of his unheavenly wrath.

“It’s been so long,” and he sharply pulls on his hair and now he’s crying and tear tracks are running down his face. He doesn’t care. “I’ve waited so long. I’ve tried my best. I’ve-“

He chokes on nothing but his own despair.

He’s kneeling in the shards and they’re digging into his knees. He couldn’t care less.

“What do I need to do?” He was asking someone, anyone, whoever could give him any semblance of an answer, but nobody did. He didn’t know if anyone could.

“How do I be enough? How long do I have to wait until I’m worth more to somebody?” The unknowing of what comes next cut his heart out with a butcher knife made of his own desperation. The only sound to answer his pleas, his prayers, was his own shaky breathing and his plants shuddering.

“Can he even love me?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? He clenched his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears, alone but surrounded by so much noise, a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t go away. He could hear his decorative heart beating, pounding away, like a symbol crashing with crescendo of a whole orchestra his ears.

He was making up noises at this point, wasn’t he? Trying to deafen the silence with his own imagination. As if it could take away everything that there wasn’t. His plants had stopped cowering. They knew the only thing he wanted to yell at right now was himself.

How had God made him this way? Why did he have to exist like this, confused and incapable of accepting the simple fact that he was unlovable? How had he been cursed with a heart that cared about everything?

How had he been cursed to love when he couldn’t be loved himself?

And as he was breaking down for the thousandth time exactly in his lifetime, the angel was fixing himself a cup of tea and humming a simple melody, settling down to read one of his more recently acquired books, completely and utterly unaware of any of it. And he was still alone.

Utterly hopeless.

—

It goes like this.

The Armageddon’t was averted, and the angel and demon have saved the world. Neither of them were expected to, and neither of them were supposed to, but they did. They exist just the same as they did before.

They still drink too much together and dine at the Ritz and talk about dolphins and whales and ducks and live quite normally.

(Well, as normal as you can expect it to get.)

The demon still has yellow snake eyes and listens to Queen almost obsessively and drives too fast, and the angel still loves fancy restaurants and reads old books and barely sells any of them to his customers.

And the demon still loves.

And he still hates that he does.

“I hate caring,” he says one evening, half-way into his third bottle of fine wine. There’s no way he’s sober at this point. He had been drinking since he had arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop, despite Aziraphale himself declining to partake in it. “I just hate it so much.”

“I know, dear,” Aziraphale raises an eyebrow and turns a page of the book he’s reading. Crowley’s pretty sure it’s one of Jane Austen’s earlier novels. “You’ve told me many times.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Crowley waves him off, but just a bit too enthusiastically, and leans forward on his knees. “But I just hate it. Too much.”

“Too much what?” He asks. He turns the page, but is almost certainly not reading it. He seems more focused on the conversation now.

“There’s too much. I feel too much. Not s’posed to.” Crowley pulls a disgusted look. “Demons ‘r not s’posed to love ‘n stuff.”

Aziraphale frowns and it looks almost like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle in his head. “You can love?”

Crowley chokes like he did so long ago, and there’s something trapped in the back of his throat, a lump that’s suffocating him, and he almost hopes that he could really die instead of just discorporate.

“I-“ he swallows deep, “I wish I couldn’t. God- Satan- Somebody,” he doesn’t know who somebody even is.

“I wish I couldn’t, so bad. So bad.” He wishes he weren’t so drunk, too, but he doesn’t want to sober up, and the love thing precedes the drunkenness by a large portion.

“Why would you not want to be able to love?” Aziraphale questions, a concerned look in his eyes. “Why would you ever want that? That would be horrible!”

“No it wouldn’t.” Crowley is completely serious, and it’s clear that Aziraphale doesn’t understand at all.

“How could not loving ever be a good thing?!”

“How could it ever be a good thing?”

Aziraphale pinches his nose and sighs. “I’m really arguing with a drunk Crowley right now,” he mutters under his breath. “Sober up.”

“But-“ Crowley whines, and Aziraphale shushes him with a finger. He huffs. “‘Kay...”

He sobers up in less than a minute, and opens his eyes to see Aziraphale with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Explain your argument.” He asks politely, and Crowley is so ready to destroy him with his debate skills.

“I love a lot, unfortunately, and people can’t love me.” He lays it plainly out in front of them, and can’t understand for the life of him why Aziraphale looks so pained.

“... Are you okay?” asks Crowley, and is completely surprised and overtaken by Aziraphale squeezing the living daylights out of him. He makes a noise that is not a squeak (it totally is, but he will never admit it) as his rib cage is practically ground to dust.

“What-“ he lets out a breath as Aziraphale hugs him closer. “What’s this for and also I can’t breathe please let me go what are you doing-“

“I’m hugging you,” says Aziraphale simply, and only lets Crowley have a bit of breathing room.

“But why?” Crowley asks with a furrowed brow.

“Because you need one, clearly,” and that’s the explanation he gives.

Crowley is still not following. “Why would I need a hug?”

“You can be loved,” and Crowley’s lungs are screaming for another reason as all his air is stolen, along with his words.

“You can be loved so much, Crowley, you can be loved, you can be loved, I love you and you don’t even know how much, I promise you I’ll never hide it ever again, I promise, you go so fast but I think I’ve caught up, Crowley, oh dear...” There’s tears dripping and soaking his shirt, but he doesn’t care, because he’s ruining Aziraphale’s coat too.

“I-“ How does one say that they have loved another for thousands of years? Since the garden of Eden? Since they knew each other?

“I love you so much I can’t think anymore,” is what he goes with. “I just never thought that anyone could love a demon.”

The angel, his angel, was still holding him in his arms. “I’m not sure if being a demon suits you, darling. I think you may be the only exception.”

And so they live as exceptions.

Mutual exceptions, a demon who didn’t quite suit being a demon or an angel, and an angel who didn’t quite suit being an angel or a demon.

In the end, they were quite human.

And they were quite happy with that.

Maybe they weren’t quite hopeless.

first mini fanfiction im so sorry if its horrible guys im trying😭🫶 (disclaimer: hate will be blocked and removed, this is jst smth silly i thought maybe ppl will be intrested in, may be spelling errors and grammar errors)

pink is yn, pink and slanted is yns thoughts, blue is ghost

Ghost being your mentor in the 141

-

Youve just arrived at the 141 base a few weeks ago, your previous CO has bumped you up to a higher role, joining the 141. Which means higher pay, higher respect and more experience!

0630, training begins. On your way to the gym, you check the bulltin board in the hallway, which reads what higher up youll be training one on one with. Oh no. Ghost. Look, its not like you have bad blood with Ghost, hes just well.. huge, and very scary. Well thats probably better then Soap, whoever that is. Whats with his callsign? must be a good cleaner.

You make your way to the gym, opening the door and taking in your soroundings, all the rookies, a few of them being roudy and shoving eachother around, a man with a bucket hat and a beard... and the infamous skull masked man staring directly at you. Shit. You lock eyes. Staring compititon? Maybe? No? Is he zoned out? Whats happening right now? He beckons you over with a nod, you slowly approach.

"Hi."

He nods. "Ghost. Your trainer."

He speaks?

"Hi."

"Youve already said that."

Whoops.

You look up at him in fear.

He sighs.

"Name?"

"Y/n."

He walks to the sparring mat, expecting you to follow. You follow. He turns to face you.

"Lets start with the basics. Step up on the mat."

You step up.

"Stand like this." He stands like hes prepared to fight.

You copy. Your not very good at copying.

"No. Like this. Fists higher up."

"I am?"

"No your not."

He grabs your wrists and adjusts your stand.

"Better, Try and throw a punch."

You awkwardly throw a punch at his side. He dodges

"That was shit, harder. Be quicker on your feet."

You throw another punch at his gut, actually hitting him.

"Better, not hard enough."

You punch again. It hits his side.

"Harder."

You punch and miss.

"Harder."

You punch harder.

"Atta girl. Again."

You throw a punch, instead of just dodgong, he dodges and grabs your fist and sweeps undrr your legs.

You fall. Your on the ground. This is embarrassing.

-

Uhhh, past 2? this is short i dont plan on making it a full fanfiction but maybe?

it’s not so bad here

fandom: criminal minds

w/c: 2155

pairing: platonic BAU (mostly prentiss and morgan), spencer reid

summary: perspective of spencer: on the jet ride home after a long case. The team is so tired they get a lil silly. fluff + minimum angst I mean it is spencer’s brain.

a/n: this is quite literally my first time for everything, my first time using tumblr and my first ever fanfiction. i had a lot of fun so perhaps expect more maybe?? I want to thank the amazing @nhasablogg for being the biggest inspiration and just so cool honestly. they helped a lot with this work and have just been the kindest person ever!!! anyway pls read the following with all this☝️in mind.

~~~~~~

Spencer never really got used to flying. The team was currently thirty-six-thousand-eight-hundred-sixty-four feet above what Spencer assumed (or more accurately, calculated) would be Tennessee based on flight patterns from Dallas to Quantico and the amount of time they’ve been in air for. Which was roughly three hours, forty-five minutes, six seconds. Seven. Eight. They had about three more hours to go.

The pressure was building in Spencer’s ears and he grimaced, swallowing hard in an attempt to pop them. He always felt a pang of anxiety whenever any pain came to his head, as his memory would replay his mother’s cries for relief during bad episodes.

There was one night when Spencer was eleven, experiencing his first true migraine after finishing his college applications. It was one of the few times Spencer remembered his mother taking care of him instead of the other way around, she was almost completely lucid. His fear was much stronger then, and while he was a boy-genius, his brain was still biologically too immature to handle it.

“I’m dying, mom.” The corners of his eyes wet with tears. His mother smiled at him. It wasn’t often that Spencer behaved his age like this.

“No baby, your head is just too full, and your skull is too small to contain it. The pain is just your head expanding, working to grow and stay ahead of your thoughts.”

“Actually, your brain can’t be too big for your skull. There’s just a blood vessel swelling, and that’s putting pressure on the surrounding nerves which is making the muscles around my skull tighten and causing…” he groaned in frustrated pain. His mother stroked his hair soothingly.

“Would you listen to your mother for once, Spencer? Just go to sleep, you can’t feel the world in your sleep, you know. Go somewhere other than this reality, where your head isn’t constantly working. Relieve some of that pressure... It’s too stressful here, isn’t it?” A far too familiar distant look crossed her eyes for a moment. He rushed to retrieve her.

“Mom.. would you stay with me tonight?”

She returned her son’s gaze. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

His pain seeped out with every stroke, as if his mother’s fingers were magically sucking it out from his skin. As he fell asleep, he found that she was right. He didn’t feel anything. It was like traveling through time.

—————

The case in Texas was particularly rough. Over the past five days, the team got maybe a total of eight hours of rest each. And as far as successes go, they’ve gotten better wins. As a headache creeped up on Spencer, he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the jet couch for a nap. He fell asleep pretty quickly, ready to skip through the headache until he was in Virginia again.

But a funny sensation on his right foot caused his leg to jerk in. I thought I couldn’t feel the world in my sleep. He stirred to see Prentiss standing at the end of the couch.

“I like your socks, Reid.” She said, before wiggling her fingers over his left pink-and-purple striped sock.

“Hey!” He pulled his other leg in and smushed it against the cushion to smother the feeling. He checked his watch, the jet couldn’t be landing already? “What’d you wake me up for?”

“I couldn’t help myself. Purple’s my favorite color.” She grinned at his reaction, before it faded into a frown. “Hang on, now that you’re up though, how come you always get the full couch to sleep on?” Morgan leaned over from his seat, invested in the conversation.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say something about that bull.” He craned his neck, exaggerating the pain of sleeping upright.

“Reid is the youngest,” Hotch said from out of nowhere, neither against him nor in his defense. Spencer hadn’t even noticed him watching. Had they all been watching him sleep? Rossi continued for Hotch, “I suppose he assumed he got first rights to the couch for being born last. And you all let him.”

Hotch went back to the paperwork in his lap, diligent even while running on no sleep. “No, what about Ashley Seaver? She was younger than Reid,” he said. Definitely against him.

“And he still took the couch. Like a gentleman,” said Rossi.

Suddenly, Spencer felt very ganged up on.

“Is that right?” Morgan squinted at Spencer as if he stole something precious from him.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Prentiss said. “We can’t let him get away with this anymore.”

At first, he was confused by the rare playfulness of his coworkers, especially from Hotch adding to the banter after the crazy, long week. Then he realized; everyone was sleep deprived and filled with a goofy, delirious energy. And while they weren’t able to catch the unsub, they were able to return a young girl back to her family - traumatized, but albeit unharmed - something they saw far too little of. The feeling left everyone more fuzzy than anything, it outweighed the disappointment of losing the unsub. Reuniting a family always strengthened his own, Spencer thought. Perhaps that fuzziness and fatigue was expunging all the professionalism they maintained while the case was ongoing.

And now Spencer - who was just sleeping soundly on the couch that everyone was hungry for - was beginning to feel that fuzziness himself. He faced his back towards his team as he pulled his cover up to his chin and closed his eyes.

“If you wanted it, you should’ve gotten to it first.”

At that, he heard Morgan rise and make his way toward the couch. The blanket was ripped off him dramatically. He kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth to snore lightly. His snore lasted half a second before the sound was abruptly cut off, immediately snapping his mouth shut in a toothy grimace and slamming his elbow down to his side.

“Get your ass up, Reid,”

“No.” He buried his face into the back of the couch, trying to hide his smile as if the way his elbow followed each of Morgan’s delivered pokes didn’t give him away. Reid stiffened a bit more, he focused on schooling his reactions and moving less. If he started laughing, there was no way they would stop, probably even after he gave up what they wanted.

“C‘mon, it’s time to wake up.” His resolve began to crumble when Morgan tasered both sides of his ribs. “Share with the rest of us.”

“Ahhh-ha! Stop!” He huffed out a laugh before holding his breath to stop himself. His face quickly flushed as he wiggled on the couch.

“You know, everyone else sits during the whole flight. As a courtesy to the rest of the team. Except for you-” He accentuated by digging into his ribs again, causing another yelp and laugh to slip. “-who’s just sleeping here like a baby. What’s up with that?”

“Derek-“

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Reid? You’re not ticklish, are you?” Prentiss cooed as if nobody could tell he would be just by looking at him.

That’s all it took to crack him. Once the hysterical laughter began he couldn’t stop it. Like a defense mechanism, his brain started working in overdrive to apply logic to best overcome this assault. It took no time to figure out he could never physically stop Morgan; in terms of strength he was far outmatched.

Well, tickling is essentially the body’s response to unpredictable stimuli, so theoretically he could dull the sensations by predicting the attacks. He could trick his brain into believing he was tickling himself. He applied it in a fraction of a second.

All he did was swat at Morgan’s hands in an awkwardly gentle manner, unable to take hold of them. It really did absolutely nothing. Spencer wondered if he were one of the few who could tickle himself.

Before he could think of another solution, Prentiss grabbed one of his arms and hoisted it up above his head.

“No no no, wait wait doN’T-“

Being able to predict was proven a completely worthless tactic. Morgan tickled under his arm and he screamed. His ears finally popped and he could hear the sounds of his own bright laughter at its true pitch. His defense mechanism was shot, as if Morgan’s fingers were sucking out any ability to form a useful thought.

“Oh my god, how’d an eagle get so high up here?” Prentiss teased before breaking down herself.

Spencer wailed and curled his legs in protectively. When that did nothing, he kicked and pulled down at his arm. When that did nothing, he fell back in a whiny giggle in an attempt to garner their sympathy. That did nothing but encourage them.

“Hotch!”

Hotch finished his note, glanced very briefly at his team before returning to his work with the slightest of smiles. Spencer felt betrayed. Supervisory special agent my AAHHAA-

“Oh oh, what’s going on? It sounds like fun, let me see,” JJ turned the laptop over to show Garcia what was happening: Spencer flopping red in the face with Morgan practically sitting on him, Prentiss crouching - legs wobbly from her own laughter - behind Spencer’s head, still holding onto his arm.

“Oh geez, Spencer. How did I not know you were ticklish! Because of course you are. What did he do to deserve this? Did he cheat at Go Fish again?”

Upon seeing Garcia’s grin and his own disheveled form mirrored back at him, Spencer felt embarrassed. If anyone was going to make this a recurring experience, it would be her. He wasn’t totally against the idea, which made him blush furiously harder.

“Okay, okayokay! Y-you can have the couch. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” Prentiss let go and Spencer squirmed out of Morgan’s grasp, falling to the floor of the jet. He stayed there catching his breath in high-pitched giggles, bewildered by what just happened. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Hotch and Rossi, who stared down at him with immense amusement.

“Thanks for the help guys,” he exhaled, exhausted. They both shook their heads with fond smiles.

“I trusted my agents could handle an internal conflict on their own,” Hotch said.

“You mean manhandle..”

He looked to Morgan, who was settling comfortably on the couch with Reid’s blanket, Prentiss cuddling next to him. He rubbed his sides and looked down at the ground, defeated.

“There’s plenty of room for all of us, big guy,” Prentiss offered her hand, inviting him to the couch. Spencer took it with a smile and sat down awkwardly with his hands resting on his thighs. She draped the blanket over the three of them.

“I’m sorry for being a couch hog.”

“I’m sure you are,” Prentiss snickered.

“It’s alright, Reid, you seem like you always need the sleep. We were just having fun. Did we go too far?” Morgan asked sincerely, arm around Emily and hand on Reid’s shoulder.

“Nah.. I-I had fun too. I mean, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. I don’t think you guys have either actually.”

“Yeah, well, you did look really funny.” Prentiss said.

Spencer nudged her with a smile, earning him a poke which he quickly followed with a soft noooo don’t.

Morgan scratched the side of his head, mostly to teasingly get his attention. But it felt nice. “Start preparing for a lot more of that.”

“Hmm.. my mom used to do this for me.”

“Tickle you?”

“Uh, no. Stroke my hair. Whenever I got a bad headache, she would tell me to sleep, and then she would pet me until I did.”

“Do you have a headache now?”

“Earlier, a little.”

Without saying any more, Morgan patted down his (now) short hair before stroking up and down soothingly.

“Like that?”

Spencer slumped over and began fake-snoring. Morgan withdrew his hand and sat up a little straighter, which immediately woke him back up “I’m kidding I’m kidding I’m kidding please just- keep doing what you were doing.” They returned to their original positions after Morgan shot him a warning look.

Prentiss rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his own head back against the couch and allowed himself to relax. The reality of Emily being there with all of them suddenly hit him. Countless nights he begged for her death to be reversed, to be a hoax. To be replaced even. Back then he wished to go to another reality, somewhere without the pressure and the stress, somewhere he couldn’t feel the world. But now, how lucky was he for her to be returned, for her to be truly safe and sound and laughing with them again? He would rather be nowhere else.

He checked his watch, there was two hours left of the flight. The three of them fell asleep very quickly, but rather than try to skip through time, Spencer savored the moment.

The First Year (An Arcane Drabble)

Hello.

I have mushrooms in my brains telling me to write and my first victim for a proper fanfic since middle school is arcane.

This was supposed to be part of a larger silco x reader thing but then i totally changed my mind on the concept and will be rewriting it, but i didn't want the first chapter I wrote to go to waste.

This is the first scene only, full work is 5485 words and up on ao3.

No warnings, gender-neutral reader

Silco didn’t like you.

Well, that would be painting your relationship in one rather bold stroke, and Janna forbid you ever do that with the likes of him.

Still, you were certain that he wasn’t particularly fond of your presence, not in the same way he respected that of Sevika or straight adored Jinx whenever he had the time to be near her in a fatherly way.

But, you’ve worked for him for a while now. Entire years at this point, three if you were to be precise. It was an achievement you couldn’t scoff at, knowing how things usually went in this line of work. Then again, you only dealt with “in-house” issues and didn’t go out on any revolutionary missions, mainly tending the bar at The Last Drop, employed a short while after it had been taken over by the Chem-baron and new unofficial leader of the Lanes.

It was late June when you first walked into The Last Drop. The air outside grew thicker, the smog harder to tolerate with how humid the climate got around this time of year, reminding every citizen that despite not feeling like it, they were most certainly in a tropical country, no matter how chilly winters could get, especially down in the Fissures.

Cold, ventilated air finally washed over your body once you stepped inside, ready to go on ahead with your little interview when you found yourself face to face with Silco, a man most Lane-dwellers despised with a burning sort of passion.

Oh, and did they hate it when he took over The Last Drop. Especially those who were still on Vander’s side, they outright refused to step foot through the door of the that bar they once frequented, slowly but surely being infested by Silco’s presence. Alcohol stock went up, the produce more expensive, imported, wallpaper was changed, the warm lights from before switched to wilder colours that fit the look of a nightclub more than your average neighborhood pub, and of course, the music selection was nearly entirely swapped out. A bright neon eye was installed outside instead of the large sign from before which held the name of the establishment- a subtle warning, you’d assumed at the time, that this was the locale of one ‘Eye of Zaun’.

“Who’s this?” Your voice rang out through the empty dance floor, having just ushered the last drunkard outside and set about getting your stock counted for when a small mop of wild, poorly cut blue hair appeared on the scene. Big eyes and a toy squeezed close to her chest, the child which had stumbled upon you was no more than 10-ish years or so, making your face shift into a slightly friendlier and open expression, though confusion persisted in your furrowed brow and reluctant smile even as you tried to reason that the kid certainly just made a mistake. Stumbled into the wrong building looking for someone, that’s all. “Hey, kid…” You hesitated, unsure what to do with a child this age in such a place, setting your clipboard aside and bending down until your hands pressed against your knees.

What could you do? Throw her out? She hardly seemed neglected like most kids out on the streets, her clothes not new but clearly patched up as they lacked the holes yours had when you were around her age and her face was entirely clean of soot and the like, yet her parents were nowhere to be seen. Hair as brightly coloured as hers wouldn’t have entirely slipped you by, no matter how much the purple-pink lights above disturbed your palette.

You didn’t know how the kid might respond to you either, you didn’t exactly look the friendliest with your sharp Zaunite-born features and your choice of clothing which was the farthest from elegant, friendly, feminine or colourful. Nothing people wouldn’t expect from someone born in the Sumps, though.

A hand reached out to the girl after, trying to keep it as non-threatening as you could with your palm facing upward, showing her your bracelets which decorated your bare wrist, no concealed weapon or anything of the sort.

“You can’t really be here, you know?” You spoke soft though hardly babied the kid, keeping your tone entirely normal as if talking with any other client, but that wasn’t completely true. If you knew someone that shouldn’t be here had walked through those doors when you weren’t looking, you would have hardly been this polite about it.

“Why not?” Her question back to you held no real confusion or curiosity, but a bite of offense, daring you to try and say something about her being here again. If you hadn’t known better, you might have even said she looked like the kid of some Piltie, all soft around the edges even as she attempted to narrow her eyes dangerously at you and put on that bratty attitude. “Well, this isn’t exactly a place for kids to be, you get me? Lots of bad people, alcohol, all that stuff you should stay away from ‘till you’re older.” You explained in a straight forward but watered-down manner what was so bad about The Last Drop, excluding the newfound drugs that were being peddled in this place between customers like little bags of candies. Vibrant liquid candies that came in little vials or syringes.

Your hand dropped back to your knee when the only reaction the kid deemed you worthy of was a mean pout she threw your way, her entire body turned away from you as if to refuse your explanation, deny to leave, making you let out a sigh as you more sternly took hold of her shoulder and prepared to guide her out towards the front door of the place. You barely got her away from the bar when the stairs leading up to his office creaked with a sudden, new weight pressing down on them.

Looking up, you were faced with the judgmental, pinning eye of Silco. It was one harsh way to learn that he apparently had a kid.

Final Chapter of "Ladybug and the Bee" is now out! The reveal is here so check it out!

Really happy with how this fic turned out and hope you all enjoy.

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader, John Price (Call of Duty)/Reader Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Reader Additional Tags: Task Force 141, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty), John Price Acting as Task Force 141's Parental Figure (Call of Duty), Task Force 141 as Family (Call of Duty), Eventual Romance

Just made my first fic on ao3! Please be nice lol

Blitz Duudls!

quick unofficial survey, reblog this and put the first fandom you read/wrote fanfic for, and how old you were, in the tags

Boyfriend!Frank Castle x BJJ fighter girlfriend

Summary: Frank comes home to his reckless girlfriend with new injuries from class

Warnings: mentions of blood, cursing, mentions of bruises, ignoring wounds (for a short while don’t worry it’s all taken care of)

Reader is a big fan of exercise so if you don’t like that um I’m sorry I guess…?

An: I just went to bjj yesterday and woke up with the ow™️, so now I want comfort and goddamnit I’m gonna write it

Frank is very much okay with his girl being a badass. It’s cute and kinda hot the way she tries to take him down with what she learns. She’s gotten so damn confident since she started, and so much happier. Even though she wakes up every day in pain, she does it with a smile. She gets up and goes to bjj, then cools down at home before and after work. He respects her for that, he really does. He’s happy she found something.

But when his girl comes home with a split lip because (of course) she doesn’t wear a mouthguard, he almost has a conniption. She’s sitting on the couch watching tv when he gets home and he can already see the puffy lip and the bruise on her forearm and the bruises on her chest because it’s spring and it’s 85 degrees out right now and goddamnit she’s not putting on real clothes, she’s putting on a thin ass tank top that’s practically made of clear plastic.

Frank walking in the door and kissing her and seeing all the bruises, immediately putting aside whatever actual bleeding wounds he has for the bruises and split lip of his girl, going and grabbing the ice before disappearing into the bathroom to stitch himself up or whatever other things need to be done.

And when they wake in the morning and her lip is all puffy, Frank gets her a glass of water and makes her stay in bed, telling her she can’t go to her 6am class because its simply not happening, Frank driving her to a gym instead because “this damn sport of yours is too dangerous sweetheart”

And when you get home that night, a red mouthguard is sitting on the kitchen table.

First/Early A03 fanfic

I got curious and I wanted to know what was the first fanfic on A03, and I guess other people wanted to know because I looked it up and there are other people asking, now most people say the first fanfic is “All You Had to Do Was Ask” by Elizabeth (watersword) (you have to have an account to read it), and it was published on 13 Sep 2008. However, I decided to look on A03, how? I go to A03, then I search something random (it’s not important), then I edit search, delete what I just wrote keep everything the same as when you edit search except for change sort by to date posted, and make sure it’s ascending. (Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t) but I got “Where Do Lannisters Go?” by Arianne_Martell posted on 01 Jan 1950, although this doesn’t make much sense because A03 was made sometime in 2000, and with the whole “it doesn’t work” it’ll give me “Dense Like Chocolate Cake” by Ice is Blue (ice_is_blue) which was posted on 13 Sep, 2008. 

Anyways, here are some other random things: 1.) You can probably use the “sort by date uploaded” and “ascending” direction to find the first or one of the earlier fanfics in a certain fandom or whatever on A03. 2.) “I searched “What is the first fanfic ever?” and it says “While pinpointing the absolute first fanfic is difficult due to the lack of clear documentation and the evolution of the concept, The Aeneid by Virgil, written between 29 BC and 19 BC, is often cited as a potential early example as it expanded on Homer's Iliad from a Trojan perspective.” Have fun with this information, if you find any earlier fics (on A03 or anywhere else please tell me). 3.) There’s a “secret”/“fun fact” about the 1950’s fic that I won’t mention, but I’ve told one person (you know who you are).