Scribble-Doodle: A Christmas Story

Every fanfiction author needs to write a Christmas story in their fandom. So what if it’s only October. Squint a little and tilt your head and you can already spot Christmas on the horizon! Or, Christmassy Malec mush.

“Shadowhunters don’t celebrate Christmas, as you know,” Alec says, “but Izzy thought that you might and, well…” He shrugs.

It’s Christmas Day and Magnus’ loft is all warm and cozy while outside snow is falling thickly, covering everything several inches deep already. Alec and he are sitting on their rumpled bed, both cross-legged and bare-chested, facing each other, and drinking hot cocoa.

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Pieces of Always: March 2022 (FICoN ‘verse, Olicity)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated​ and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick​ and @alizziebyanyothername​ for the amazing beta!)

Before we start: I’ve said this before, but I will say it again, Janis is the driving force behind these ficlets so far. She’s amazing, and I bow down to her! (More notes under the cut!)

(read on AO3)


“An’ they got monkeys and giraffes and hippopopamatuses!” Ellie cries with delight, bouncing on her toes in absolutely delight. “And elephants!”

Jules face is impassive as she dryly asks, “Hippopotami?”

“Them, too!” Ellie declares, her face utterly alive with joy.

Despite herself, her little sister’s response gets to her, and his generally reserved, sarcastic girl loses a fight with a smile. Oliver can’t help the chuckle that rises up in his own chest as he tugs his older daughter to his side in a one-armed hug. She allows it, but just for a minute before slipping away, and not without a slight eyeroll.

It does nothing to deter Oliver’s smile as he locks up the car, more than used to it.

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spookyspace-boy  asked:

I'm good!! And u don't gotta write somethin big or anythin i just wanted somethin cute to read real quick

i get u, college/hs aus are so good

“okay, step one: get an eel.”
those are the first words dallon has ever heard brendon say as he sat down within earshot of the guy he’d been silently crushing on ever since he first saw him in a lecture. if you could call it a crush if you’d never even talked to the person.
the guy sitting next to brendon (whom he actually got brendon’s name from bc he’d heard him say it just a few moments earlier) laughed and was about to answer something when the prof started the lecture. so sadly dallon didn’t get to know what brendon needed the eel for.
from that moment on dallon always tried to sit close to the two, and really it was absolutely worth it just for the weird and hilarious conversations brendon and spencer (he got that name eventually as well) seemed to have every day.
“no, you don’t get it! cakes that looked like fucking crystals dude!”
brendon seriously had the most beautiful voice, dallon could listen to it all day.

“have you noticed the guy that’s always sitting close to us?”
“the obnoxiously tall one. dark hair, right over there.” dallon couldn’t see whom spencer was pointing at.
“ohh yeah, like last week. he’s hot. and kinda cute too.” dallon’s heart skipped a beat. so brendon was into guys?
“maybe you’ll get lucky. he’s totally giving you heart eyes.”
“shut up, i bet he isn’t.”
“oh he so is!” definitely into guys then.

maybe it was wishful thinking but dallon had the feeling that from that moment on brendon seemed to notice him around, nod his head at him, smile a little. just small things. and well, dallon was super tall.

“oh man, it’s getting ridiculous. just fucking ask him out already. i swear last week he couldn’t stop staring at you for a good half hour.”
“will you stop pestering me about this? i am just waiting for a nice moment.”
“’a nice moment’ you the big romantic now or what?”
“fuck off, spence. i can totally be romantic.” dallon chuckled quietly from where he was sitting directly behind spencer. of course it hurt a little to hear that brendon was after another guy but their conversations were simply the best entertainment before a boring lecture.
“well i hate to burst your bubble but i don’t think you’ll get to be very romantic here.” brendon grumbled something about spencer probably being right under his breath and then sighed.
“fine, but i’ll kill you if he doesn’t want to go on a date.”
“believe me that won’t happen.”
to dallon’s shock brendon turned around then, his eyes meeting dallon’s and he could feel himself melting away. brendon smiled at him and leaned over. dallon’s heart skipped a beat. he couldn’t- no way
“hey there, i’ve seen you around and well- wow your eyes are gorgeous, damn! anyway, you’re really pretty and spencer here,” he punched spencer in the shoulder then, “says you’ve been ‘giving me the heart eyes’ for a while so i thought i might try my luck and ask you out.” a wide smile lightened up his face and dallon felt his breath catch, he cleared his throat.
“i uh, yeah. yeah sure, i’d love that.”
brendon just looked at him for a moment.
“great! i’ll give you my number after class. i’m brendon, by the way.”
“i know!” dallon blurted out and immediately felt stupid and creepy but brendon just smiled wider, “i’m uh dallon.”
“hi, uh dallon,” brendon winked at him and dallon felt his cheeks heat up, “see you then.”

three days later dallon got to ask brendon about the eel.

hope you liked it, the thing with the eel and the crystal cakes are tumblr post i wanted to somehow incorporate into a fic for ages. i’m too lazy to go through my likes now tho

Scribble-Doodle: Finally Found

In the S2 trailer, Izzy tells Clary: “Jace is tough, Valentine will never break him.” But what if he did? This story has been sitting in my drafts for months now and lo and behold, suddenly it became relevant.

To protect Valentine Morgenstern, their leader, his father, that’s Jonathan’s mission. Which is why, when the cursed Shadowhunters attack, Jonathan and his men stand their ground, determined to defend their position until their very last breath. 

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First Lines

I was tagged by the ever lovely @thegreatpumpkin-queen

Here are the first lines of 20 of my fics. 

Never Again (Dean x Reader) Tears streamed down your cheeks. They weren’t just sad ones, they were angry. No, not angry, livid. Agonized. Furious. Whatever emotion they encapsulated, they flowed freely.

Three Words (Sam x Reader) You’d been hunting on your own for three months now, and you were so incredibly lonely. You missed the Winchesters, no matter how much you were mad at them. You had been hunting with them for three fucking years before they pushed you away. You had always sen Dean as an older brother, and Sam…you had always hoped for more. 

Hunting Love (Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader): Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8D  Part 8S (complete) “Y/N! Behind you!” You whirl around at the sound of Sam’s shout. Before the vampire could get too close, you behead it. Its blood sprays, leaving warm redness on your face. “Thanks Sam!” You scan the warehouse. Dean is taking on two, Sam has three, and four more are approaching

Panel Shenanigans (Jensen x Reader) “You have no idea what you do to me.” “Oh? I think I have a pretty good idea.” Jensen leans his face towards yours, you returning the movement. Right before your lips touch, he moves his head over, licking your cheek. “Dammit Jensen!” The crowd is filled with a mix of disappointed exclamations and laughter.

Welcome To the Con (Jensen x Reader): Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14 Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20 Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28 (complete) “Holy shit Y/N, we’re about to meet them!” Y/F/N exclaims. “I know! We’d better not embarrass ourselves because I spent far too much money to look back on this and cringe.” “Oh don’t worry, you’re always more relaxed about these things than I am.” “I don’t know, I’m about to meet Jensen and Jared. if I faint, you’d better catch me.”

Amusement (Tadash Hamada x Reader) Being a college student can be incredibly stressful. So when your friends suggested you all celebrate the start of summer break by going to an amusement park, you excitedly said yes. You are decked out in the San Fransokyo Association of Arts tee shirts you got on the last day. It was a nice way to show school pride, find each other in crowds, and it was a bonus that they were really comfortable.

Trip and Fall (Pox Reader) You didn’t fall for Poe Dameron, he tripped you.

Rebel Beat (Boaz Priestly x Reader) Priestly walked down the Santa Cruz street, your hand in his, swinging a bit as you went. It was getting closer to sunset and the light was softer, with more gold and gentle colors. He smiled to himself, admiring the way the light made your eyes light up.

Everybody Relax!: Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  (complete) (Boaz Priestly x Reader) You stood in front of a Sub Shop. The awning read Beach City Grill. The sign inside the window said “Help Wanted: Normal people need not apply.” Of course this is where Piper works. Your blonde best friend from art school spends all her free time at what she called “the shop” or with her new boyfriend, Noah. You’d been looking for work, and she managed to convince you to apply to the same shop so that you can work, and spend more time together. Unbeknownst to you, she also wanted to set you up with a certain…pierced friend of hers.

Distracted (Dr. Robert Chase x Reader) You sat in the cafeteria at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, eating lunch with Dr. James Wilson. He was talking about something….his office? No, House? No, wait, something about a college friend? Whatever it was, you’d both stopped paying attention, and forgotten what it was. Normally you’d listen attentively, as the man was your friend, and mentor of sorts. You shared an office, and he was the one to show you the ropes when you arrived a few months previously. That day, however, you were very distracted. Why? Well, because of a certain blond Australian.

I only came up with 10 that I really liked, (for some reason, my Marvel masterlist wasn’t working????) So here you go!

Tagging: @waywardlullabies @impalapossible @jotink78 @i4z-0892-imagines

STEREK WEEK 2016: Day 2 - Kids

Sterek: When Boyd comes back from a routine patrol with Isaac and Erica pocket-sized, Derek is rightfully concerned. Stiles is freaking out just four feet from him, making the whole situation even worse. After letting Boyd explain how exactly something like this could have happened, they proceed to do damage control. Which mostly means, Stiles as their newly appointed emissary makes the calls to the rest of the pack, sends the pre-written texts they all have in their phones for occasions similar to this to the parents, guardians, partners, well whoever he deemed necessary. Boyd disappears almost the second Derek stops questioning him, and Derek is left with two kids not even old enough for school, flashing their golden eyes at him every time he so much as moves in a direction they don’t like. 

This was not how Derek expected to spend his Saturday. 

He also didn’t expect to spend two weeks co-parenting with Stiles Stilinski. And liking it. It would be much better if Scott stopped laughing at him every time Derek has to chase after buck naked Isaac and get him to wear a damn pair of pants.   

As Derek later recalled it was not one of his best moments. But in his defense, they had been in most cases attacked by those really inconspicuous. He was just prepared to defend the fragile human next to him. He’s sticking with that story. Derek was not in any way freaked out by two little children. 

“Boyd? What is this?” he asked after a few beats when his fangs and claws retreated. His beta tried to look at him but failed miserably somewhere half way through. Boyd mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles next to him asked, not taking his gaze from the pair of tiny people half hiding behind Boyd’s legs. Shaking. Derek suddenly felt like crap.
Boyd wasn’t meek enough not to glare at Stiles for that, though.
“I said it’s Erica and Isaac.”
The beat of silence was followed by Stiles throwing away his computer which landed on the sofa with a soft ‘thud’ and then proceeding to flail all over the place while yelling at no one in particular.
“No. NO. I refuse. This shit has to have some limit, and I draw it at de-aging. Just no fucking way. I refuse!
Derek croaked: “How?”
Boyd sighed. “They are idiots who jump in before thinking.”
“How the hell didn’t whatever did that get you too?” Stiles paused in his tirade to ask.
Boyd growled at him. “I am not an idiot like these two. I actually expected a trap. They just took off sooner than I could warn them. And then this happened,” he gestured to the pair almost hanging from his jeans.  
Stiles swore. “Fucking typical.” Then he immediately began to plan what to do and how to fix it, pacing around the loft, clearly on a mission.
Derek, on the other hand, ignored everything else except his two betas watching him still half hidden behind Boyd’s legs. They couldn’t even be old enough to attend school, damn. Were they at least still werewolves?
Derek flashed his red eyes on them, and they both flashed their pure gold back at him. Well, thank fuck. Still weres then. Small mercies and all that jazz. 
“Boyd, send the messages, we can’t send them home like this. They have to stay here.” Stiles hollered from the other side of the room, holding his own phone only a two inches from his face. Derek ignored them both in favor of the little ones. They were still his betas, he could feel them, but he very much doubted it’s still them. Thay had to be de-aged mentally just as much as physically. Just great. He sighed. This is going to be a pain. And then he paused.

“What the hell do you mean 'stay here’?”

i like what i see, i know what i need - a halloween chub fest fic!

i don’t know if i’ve ever mentioned it before, but halloween is probably my favorite time of the year! and it’s definitely an inspirational season for chubby/feederism fics! i’ll try to post a small fic a day from the 24th to the 31st of october as part of the #trickortreatyourself2016 halloween chub fest hosted by @iwritetheweirdstuff !!! 

today is day one, so i come to you with a bokuakakuroo hansel and gretel au!! °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° 

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Before We Fell Apart - EchoResonance - Voltron: Legendary Defender [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

When Shiro heard that a fight had broken out in the hall, he’d expected to find a couple of punks with too much pent-up energy. It wasn’t uncommon for scuffles to break out, especially amongst the new cadets. He’d meant to step in calmly and tell whoever it was to move along before one of the officers found them.

Contrary to popular belief, Keith wasn’t much of a scrapper. He was in the Garrison on sheer good graces and talent; one wrong move would lose all of that. He had a thick skin, he ignored most of the jeers thrown his way. So when he found Keith in the middle of it all, that easy objectivity was gone. Shiro jerked him out of the fight by force, scowling down the other cadet until he ran off with his tail between his legs before dragging Keith after him with every intention of finding out what finally lit his fuse.

I was going back over some of my older chapters in an older story of mine to get ideas for a new chapter

I read back over one chapter in The Adventure of the Spider’s Web that I posted months ago (sometime earlier this year I think, if not longer ago than that). I think it may be one of the better chapters I’ve written as far as old-fashioned style goes.

 I think this has a somewhat Halloween-y feel to it, in fact. (Well, that and the two or three chapters that follow it. I discovered that writing with a heavy Bram Stoker and Robert Louis Stevenson influence makes for good creepy villains.)

The Deadliest Weapon

@portentous-offerings reblogged that post about tampon stories and boys’ reactions, and it annoyed me (while also entertaining me). When I’m annoyed (and entertained), I write. So here, have an ML fic about tampons. 

“It’ll be funny!” Alya defended, continuing to rummage around in her bag. And while Marinette agreed with the sentiment, she still wasn’t sure if she was willing to put so many emotionally stunted teenage boys through such trauma.

“I don’t know that they’ll be able to handle it,” she reasoned, frowning a bit as she did.

“C'mon, girl,” Alya persisted. “Think of Juleka.”

That was true, the memory stoking the low burn of anger that had been simmering in Marinette’s gut all morning. Poor Juleka had been suffering as so many girls did and had required only a necessary trip to the bathroom. It’d been before school had started, all the students loitering around the campus until class. Which meant that when Juleka accidentally dropped her tampon, more than one eye caught the “scandal.” Which drew in only more attention. Until a gaggle of stupid boys were dancing around the scene, poking fun like female biology was something to be ashamed of.

Juleka had not faired well, the ridicule leaving her locked in the bathroom until Rose and Marinette had managed to get her cheered up (not like they needed another akuma out of the situation).

“Okay, okay,” Marinette agreed, pulling her own bag up and searching through it. “I only have three tampons though. And two pads.” She pulled the assorted items up as Alya finally found her own.

“That’s hardly enough for a full scale attack,” she mused, frowning.

“Here, take mine too.” Turning, the two watched Mylene pull six pads out of her own bag, Ivan—who stood at her shoulder—chuckling and shaking his head.

“Nice! Help me open everything.” Alya dictated the whole situation, Marinette assisting in tearing the outer plastic off before they unfolded the pads. They left the sheets that protected the adhesive side, but otherwise they were exposed to the world.

“Are you guys doing what I think you’re doing?” Alix cut in, crouching down on the steps beside them. There was a manic grin on her face as she eyed the large group of boys just off the corner of the steps.

“Probably,” Alya replied simply.

“Well, here,” Alix continued, reaching into her own bag and pulling out an entire box of tampons. “I bought these earlier, but I’d rather they went to a good cause.” After all, nearly every single girl had been disgusted by the treatment Juleka had suffered through earlier that day.

“Nice!” Alya did a celebratory wiggle, ripping the seal to the box and dumping the tampons, along with all the others they’d procured, onto the giant sweatshirt Ivan had been decent enough to lend them.

“This is a pretty good hoard,” Marinette agreed. “But I wish we had more pads.”

“Actually…” Alya tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I have a better idea.” Reaching down, she removed all the pads and handed them to Marinette. “For later,” she said vaguely, offering only a wink as explanation before she turned to Alix. “Ready?”

“Oh yeah!” Together, the two grabbed the sweatshirt on either side, cradling the pile of tampons in the fabric as they stood and skipped their way down the stairs. Behind them, Marinette stacked the pads into a neat pile before turning her attention to what would inevitably become a scene.

She mourned some that Adrien was among the large group of boys that were to be hit, but supposed some sacrifices had to be made.

At the base of the stairs, Alix and Alya were swinging the sweatshirt back and forth, readying to let it loose. The gaggle of boys—there were at least ten of them—had no idea, their backs turned to the onslaught. Many of them had participated in the jeering Juleka had gone through (Marinette was thankful both Adrien and Nino had not taken part) and so deserved what was coming to them.

Finding herself at the base of the stairs, Marinette watched alongside Mylene as Alya and Alix finally opened the sweatshirt. On the upswing, they thrust the shirt forward, hurling its contents into the air. A flurry of active grenades, the tampons were flung across the clearing, scattering through the air before they, inevitably, showered down on the heads of the boys.

Initially, the attack was met with startled surprise, the boys flinching back as they were hit before looking around in confusion. And then, as if they could see their deaths upon them, a grave silence overcame the group. They brushed the weapons from their hair and shoulders, unknowing what debris they were handling until the plastic devices—their strings hanging out dangerous—went clattering to the sidewalk.

The seconds of realization were almost stifling.

Kim was the first one to release a high-pitched scream, which sent all the boys into a panic. Unable to avoid stepping on the bombs, they stumbled back clumsily, tripping over themselves in their efforts to escape the outbreak. It was like watching a heard of wild animals startled by an abrupt predator, though their scrambling was perhaps lacking in animal grace.

Their screaming and yelling, and “what the fucks,” naturally drew in the attention of other groups of students, the boys who’d been far enough to avoid being assaulted gaping and shying back in alarm and disgust, while their female counterparts looked on in straight-faced confusion—if only because they hadn’t been briefed on the situation.

Once the ruckus had cleared—once all the boys were safely cowering to the sides, holding one another and breathing hard as they observed the scene from a safe distance—only one victim was left standing, his best friend shifting a meter or so behind him in uncertainty.

Looking around in surprise, Adrien stood among the ruins, feet bordered in tampons while Nino—hands out as though bracing himself—waited for another assault. He stood by his clueless friend courageously, though clearly uneasy.

Brave soul that he was, Adrien ended up bending down and actually picking up one of the bombs, much to the gasping dismay of many of the boys on the sidelines.

“Guys…” he started a second later, holding his find up for observation. “They’re just tampons.”

The word, that word, had them all shrinking back again, as if the mere sound of those letters put together was enough to shake them to their very cores.

While Adrien, still perplexed by the reaction, glanced down to the tampon in his hand. “They’re not even used,” he muttered. “What the hell is wrong with-”

“Foolish!” Alya announced abruptly, Adrien whipping around in surprise. “They’ve left one behind!” Dramatically, she grabbed one of the pads from Marinette’s waiting hands, holding it above her head as she tore the plastic sheet from the adhesive. “Get him!”

By that time, Rose and Juleka had joined their group as well. Alix followed Alya’s example and armed herself with a pad, Mylene laughing and doing the same. Until there was a whole hoard of girls rushing Adrien, much to his wide-eyed shock.

Not that he wasn’t used to girls rushing him. But normally they weren’t armed with pads and yelling battle cries at the same time.

Marinette joined in as well, laughing, which inspired Juleka and Rose to do the same.

Pads in hand, they tore the plastic away from each one, much to Adrien’s twitching puzzlement. They didn’t body-slam him or anything, but they crowded around nonetheless and made a great scene of sticking the pads all over his shirt and arms. They hung off of him heavily, more disgusted gasps echoing from the boys watching.

“What- What is happening right now?” Adrien hissed at them, shaking his arm and failing to remove the sticky pad that was suctioned to his skin.

“Silence!” Alix shouted, pointing a threating finger up at him. “You’re supposed to be dying!”


“Your manly ego,” Alya corrected. “We’ve assaulted you with feminine products, the greatest fear of all men, and so it’s inevitable that you fall beneath our power.”

“Oh…” He furrowed his eyebrows, before realization splashed over his face. “Oh!”

He’d been there when Juleka had been harassed and been one of the few boys that had tried to stop it. He knew exactly what they were doing.

“Oh god!” he yelled abruptly, reaching up and slamming his hands over the pad that was stuck to his shirt. “The patriarchy, I can see it crumbling before me! There is no greater ill than the unused cotton and plastic of feminine products! We stand no chance!

"Help, help!” he called, falling dramatically to his knees. “I’m not gonna make it!”

“Don’t worry, bro!” Nino yelled from the sidelines. “I’ll go get some red meat and a GPS you can throw out the window! Hold on!”

“It’s too late!” Adrien garbled, holding his throat as he fell back on his butt, before toppling to his back. “I’m not- I’m not gonna make it! Oh Nino, it burns! The realization that women’s bodies do things mine doesn’t! The horror!”

“Just breathe, bro!” Nino begged.

“Ugh, I’m dying!” Flailing his arms out to the sides, Adrien scattered the tampons, his legs shoving them out of the way as he sprawled through the debris.

“Somebody do something!” Nino fell to his knees as well, looking frantically around the clearing. “Get some beard hair! Start a fight! Give him a hammer! Anything to save my bro!”

“It’s too late now,” Adrien whispered. “I’m dead.” Head tipping to the side, he fell still, tongue lolling out as he released a final “bleh,” clearly symbolizing his demise.

“Bro! Bro!” Nino wailed pathetically.

“Victory!” Alix called, raising her arms to all the eyes watching. “Let this be a warning to all who oppose us!”

“We will not hesitate to use the deadliest of weapons!” Alya continued, Marinette holding up the final pad before she got down on her knees at Adrien’s head. In a final testament to their victory, she stuck it over his eyes, smoothing it out evenly.

“We will hang his bland yet understated button-up at the entrance to our woman-cave!” Alya continued. “You’ve all been warned!”

“What is going on out here?” It was Ms. Bustier who interrupted their reveling, all the girls turning to look at her. As did the boys, most of them either completely disgusted by the show or still horror-stricken.

“Their female empowerment has killed my bro!” Nino lamented. “Oh the equality!”

The girls stared at Ms. Bustier, saying nothing as she surveyed the situation.

Marinette, meanwhile, glanced down at Adrien, who was smirking and doing his best not to laugh.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” she hissed.

“Oh, sorry.” He went appropriately still.

“I’m not… I’m not going to get involved in this,” Ms. Bustier finally decided, smiling a bit as she looked at the scene. “Just… make sure you clean up when you’re done.” Shaking her head, she turned and went back into the school.

“Victory!” Alix yelled again, pumping her fist in the air.

All the girls chanted in response. “Victory!”

fic: How to (Try to) Propose to Phil Lester

title: how to (try to) propose to phil lester

genre: fluff / rating: pg-13 / warnings: swearing

word count: 5500

description: “we have one month, the best proposal wins, and the loser has to get the other’s name tattooed on their ass at the wedding.”

or, the one where they both intend to propose to each other on the same night and dan isn’t having any of it.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Phil doesn’t even blink. “Most people say yes when their significant other of over six years proposes, but then again we’ve never really been ‘most people’ have we?”

a/n: when i spend two months writing a fic, you know it’s gonna be good. i hope. enjoy!

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Dean saw the boy the day he moved in next door: a shock of unruly black hair, lanky arms and legs, and moving as though every action were carefully planned. Dean peeped over the fence that divided their yards, having to stand on his tip toes. The boy wandered closer to look at the flowers on his side of the fence line, and Dean knelt down to peer through the slot where a board had broken.

“Hi, I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

The boy didn’t answer. All his attention was on a bumblebee.

“Uh, hey. Hey kid,” Dean waved his hand through the opening. He startled the other boy enough that he fell back onto his bottom. The boy looked up and smiled, and Dean’s mouth dropped open.

“Wow! Your eyes are so blue!”

The kid furrowed his brow and shook his head, pointing to his ears.

“Your ears?” Dean asked, confused. “They’re nice too, I guess.”

But the blue eyed boy just continued to stare and point at his ears until Dean suddenly understood.

“Deaf?” He asked slowly, carefully moving his lips, and the kid nodded. “Oh…sit there a second. I’ll be right back.”

He indicated the ground and ran back inside to grab some paper. By the time he found a pen and made it back out, the other boy was staring at the hole in the fence like he’d been abandoned. Dean plopped down and started to write at once, passing the kid the paper and pen when he was done.

I’m Dean. What’s your name?

The boys eyes widened and he wrote back. Dean squinted at the handwriting, small and neat compared to his own scrawl.

I’m Castiel. I’m your new neighbor. Pleasure to meet you.

Dean laughed at the proper way Castiel wrote, and shoved his answer through the hole in the fence.

You’ve got pretty eyes, Cas.

Castiel blushed when he handed the note back.

Thank you. So do you.

“Oh, I know that sign!” Dean said happily, and he quickly brought his hand to his chin and pulled it away, signing thank you.

Castiel frantically motioned for the paper back and wrote something down rapidly.

You can sign? How much?

That’s all I know.

He passed it back and Cas’s happy face fell. Dean suddenly wondered how many people Cas met that he could actually speak to. He thought of how lonely he must be, and reached through the hole for the paper, adding on to his last sentence.

Can you teach me? I want to know too.

Dean resolved right then that he’d be the best student ever, as long as he got to see that same smile light up Cas’s face every day and know he put it there.

From the moment they met, Jack knew this was the man with which he would spend the rest of his life. 

“I hope y'all like pecan pie,” Eric Bittle said. He was small, blond, and southern, with a smile that could brighten a room and a pie that smelled like heaven held gently in his hands. Ransom and Holster were on him in seconds.

“Holy shit, did you make this? It’s spectacular!” said Holster, pieces of pecan flying from his mouth. He hadn’t bothered to grab a plate, or a fork, or anything resembling kitchen ware for that matter. 

“Uhh, yes?” Eric looked scandalized. Ransom and Shitty had joined in, grabbing bits of pie and cramming it in their mouths with a voracity that challenged wild hyenas. 

Jack was perched on the edge of the dining hall table, watching the chaos unfold. This wasn’t how he thought it would happen. After a moment, he rolled up his sleeve, tracing his fingers over the soul mark that occupied the inside of his arm. ‘I hope y'all like pecan pie’ was written in large loopy letters. From where Jack sat, he could see the rest of the boys converging on Bittle’s pie. He smiled at the horrified look on Eric’s face. He would be easy to love, Jack thought. 

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okay hear me out, I’ve been thinking about this a lot and then there was this post and things kinda spiraled out of control;

  • So Adam is a southerner and after leaving for college and becoming more comfortable with himself, he starts letting the accent slip more often and ofc it shows the most when he’s really happy or talking to Ronan.
  • Usually those two things correlate.
  • Southerners are also known for using sweetheart, darling, and sugar a lot, and even though Adam makes it a point of using none of them usually; he still grew up hearing the words at the end of every other sentence
  • So one night Adam is in bed, tucked in and warm after a long day of lectures, and he’s got his phone pressed to his hearing ear as he sleepily tells Ronan about his day, voice soft and slow and his accent thick.
  • Adam is in that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness, and the murmur of Ronan’s voice when he starts speaking makes him feel safe and warm, so he dozes off for a few seconds and doesn’t catch what Ronan says. 
  • They don’t do pet names except for Ronan sometimes calling him babe but Adam is tired and content and he loves listening to Ronan speak, and the haziness of sleep loosens his tongue and so he sleepily asks; “What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t catch it” and the line goes silent for a bit
  • except Adam doesn’t notice it just then bc he’s too tired and Ronan sometimes needs to regroup his thoughts, so Adam is used to waiting for Ronan to find his words and he just closes his eyes and waits for Ronan to speak again
  • Meanwhile Ronan Lynch is having a religious experience on the other end of the phone, like his face feels so hot he’d be actually embarrassed if he weren’t too busy marvelling at Adam’s voice wrapped around the word sweetheart.
  • What he ends up saying, after several beats of silence, is “Jesus fuck, Parrish, just how tired are you? Go to sleep, fucker.” but his voice is soft and he’s smiling a little and Adam lets out a huff of quiet laughter.
  • Adam answers “Don’t wanna. I wanna talk to you. Miss you.” even as he can feel himself starting to lose the battle against sleep, and knowing he won’t be awake for much longer
  • He hears Ronan’s sigh of fond exasperation, followed by “Miss you too, asshole, but you need to sleep. I’ll just.. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” 
  • Adam nods without thinking, the warm feeling in his chest growing, growing, growing. And he breathes an I love you into the phone, Ronan returns the sentiment and disconnects with a “Good night, Adam.” 
  • The next morning when Adam is more awake, he remembers the phone call and figures out the reason behind Ronan’s prolonged silence and the smile in his voice afterwards. The memory and its following realisation leave him with flushed cheeks and a shit eating grin that he might have learned from Ronan himself
  • He makes a quick decision, picks up his phone, and dials his boyfriend’s number. Ronan answers on the second ring. 
  • Adam smiles and, with a voice slow as honey, he says; “Mornin’, Sugar.”
Breaking News

A nasty reporter hunts down Ladybug and Chat Noir until he finds out their identities, before promptly releasing the information to all of Paris. As a result, Marinette and Adrien not only have to deal with knowing one another’s identities, but the rest of the world knowing as well. 

I wrote this first chapter as a warm-up. Don’t really know where it’s going. 

“No, I understand,” Chat assured, casting Ladybug a soft smile as he looked her way. He could see the anxiety in her expression, the tension. As if her persistence that they keep their identities a secret would somehow scare him off. “I just… I guess sometimes I’m afraid it’s because you don’t trust me.”

“No, Chat,” she whispered, reaching out and laying her gloved hand on his arm. They were sitting above the city, legs hanging over the edge of a roof. So typical for them, even if the conversation was more personal than they usually got. “I trust you completely. You’re my… you’re my best friend. But…”

“No, you’re right, it’s more dangerous,” he agreed quietly, her words about their friendship warming him considerably despite his depression over their vigilance in staying hidden from one another. “Even with… Hawkmoth in prison, he let all those cursed butterflies loose. If even the wrong person knew, then an akuma could come right for us.”

She nodded, her hand slipping from his arm as she glanced down at the street below.

“We’ve had a lot of close calls though, huh?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I wonder what people would think, if they knew who we really were?”

Chapter 1

Chat had never wanted to strangle any member of the press as much as he wanted to this particular reporter. And he’d dealt with a lot of paparazzi. But there was the normal amount of harassment and then there was that which bordered on stalking. Usually, when the latter was an issue, it was a simple matter of getting the law or body guards involved.

Ladybug and Chat Noir did not have those luxuries. When particularly persistent reporters got to them, they had to deal with it on their own. Which usually wasn’t a problem. With the exception of helicopter reporters—who were able to be outmaneuvered—they could generally just jump up amongst the roofs of the city and they’d be safe.

This particular reporter, however, was a bit different. Like Alya, he liked to be right in the crossfire. The difference was that Alya reported what she saw and then made her deductions based on that. This reporter wasn’t in it for the news—he was only there to get the juicy bits of gossip, not the actual report.

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