sweetheart,
you are a writer
you paint picture with colors that haven’t even been named yet in only black ink
you make dreams come true with the quiet ‘click’ of a keyboard
you do things that others wish they could do
so don’t be so hard on yourself; your gift is unique to you
you don’t have to write like them
you write like you
and that is enough
for anyone who may need this reminder ♡
(cc, 2018)
You know what I don’t get? When fanfic authors apologize for long chapters. It’s like? You gave me bonus content, for free, and you’re sorry about it? Bruh. I have already named my firstborn after you. Dude.
You know what else I don’t get? When they apologize for short updates. It’s like: look at these new words I gave you! Sorry I didn’t give you even more free words. Bro, that’s at least two words that I did not have yesterday. For free. Dude. Thank you.
And another thing: when people drop out of nowhere with a surprise update and then apologize for it taking a while. Like, dude, I wasn’t expecting anything, and you gave me words. I thought this fic was abandoned, but wait: there’s more. You just popped in and reminded me that this is a Good Fic that I should probably reread. You made my goshdarn day.
Basically fanfic writers are under no obligation to publish anything so when they do update it’s always a net positive because the story is longer now, and I have something to read, so thank you so much to everyone who writes fic at whatever pace or quantity they want.
((A big thank you to @demigosh for their commission, this was so much fun to write! this was a flash commission and i still have 4 spots open so pm me for details!)
For any good story to be told it is suggested to have a protagonist, someone who throughout some personal downfall betters themselves and becomes some sort of heroine type figure- a character that the unknowing audience could possibly look up to and even admire. However why does every story need this? The answer is they dont, my fantastical labyrinth of words surely will not. However, we will have a boy, he will remain unnamed for the sake of remaining ambiguous and debatably headache inducing. Said boy looks tired, as if his eyelids are permanently fixed to the halfway point in his eyes, and his lips look ancient as if they were never made to open, they are dry like mystical ruins covered by dunes of sand.His hair however changes the game, his hair completely flips the game over and destroys it. His hair is like that flavour of lollipop- what was it? Blue raspberry? That's not a fucking flavour and his hair can't possibly be this colour- but it is and will continue to be. His cheeks contrast his chapped lips and lidded eyes by showing a nice rosey color, it was the only way to show he could be considered alive. If it weren't for the color in his cheeks you may believe he were among the living dead in which his society holds many of and which his mind held zero of.
While his mind did not hold the living dead it did hold an animated evil, something never meant to inhabit this boy. Now i will introduce to you a girl, also unnamed for reasons semi-identical to the boy- well not really. Her name is secret even to me and the only person living who even knows the syllables of her title is the boy from before. However, let's take a moment to note the girl’s characteristics- though only the boy can actually see the blinding rainbow vomit of color which is of the female variety. Her hair is just as fake in coloration except hers is real, the shoulder length bubblegum pink has lovely curls in random spots, the curves and edges almost absolutely were artificial. A horn slides from the upper middle part of her forehead and her sharp teeth murmur whispers of death to anything caught between them. Her ears pointed out like branches from a tree, catching breezes of noise in them.
Onto the story, the gorgeous tapestry painted by my typing fingers, the forced meeting of a boy and a boy, of which was made possible by a cherry blossom colored demon who will continue to reign unnamed. A spilled coffee and an unusually perky apology from a boy who never speaks. A date. Enough of this! Its story time! Buckle in kiddos it's gonna get gay.
~
A boy walks down a broken sidewalk covered in crunchy leaves, each step calling out in sound and smell. The wind held a soft remembrance of sun, warmth mixing with the cool air to gently prick the skin on his rosey cheeks and dull features. He cleared his throat, walking along with one hand slid into his jacket pocket and the other holding a latte from his local cafe- he had just taken his leave from this place and was getting ready to go straight back home and hop onto the internet for his daily dose of indirect social interaction. However he had this pain in his head, one he knew all too well was not a headache- and then he saw her- the headache faded and he sighed in a frustration that showed he was well enough tired of her antics and shenanigans. The girl. The demon. “Heyyy!!!” Her voice was high pitched and not all that unpleasant for the normal ear- though no one else could hear her. However, this voice for the boy was nails on chalkboard, fork to plate if i must. He tried pretending she wasn't just floating circled around him and begging to be noticed. Eventually his anger got the best of him and he halted his steps, glaring daggers at the girlish figure who had stopped her cycle of rotations to listen to what he had to say, seeming almost giddy for his words. “Shut. up. Leave me alone.” He grumbled quietly, wanting to seem normal at least in public, speaking to her outright in front of others could get him admitted and that wouldn't end well for him or his demon.
Her face sinks and she whined out like a child who didn't get their way, arms crossing tightly over her chest as she now hovered in front of his face. “I'm bored!!!! I want to have some fun! You never leave your stupid house! Come on let's do something!” She insisted excitedly, nearly bouncing up and down as her craving for excitement grew. She turned upside down showing off her toothy grin and flicked his nose, earning a hand swat and a heavier look of annoyance. “No.” was all he had to say on the matter. He then pushed past her and started walking again, her left behind a moment before finally she caught up to what he said and hurried after him. “But, but-” She started, only for him to cut her off. “No-”
He glanced his eyes down at the foliage covered concrete so he could speak to her quietly without anyone else noticing he was, he felt he needed to be discreet. He swallowed back to wet his dry throat and then also ducked his tounge from his mouth a moment to wet his lips before speaking. “Look- I don't need any excitement, raising a cat and babysitting you is far more than enough excitement fo-” She looked as if she was about to cut him off so he cut his eyes at her as to make sure she stayed quiet before he noticed she listened. She was quiet, but her lips had split into a long devious grin, her arms crossing again and she looked away. He looked up and raised an eyebrow, “Wha-” That was when he crashed into someone- god she planned this didn't she. He fell back onto his ass, squeaking out as hot coffee spilled onto both him and the poor victim of his Demon’s spite.
“I was going to tell you to watch out.. Hehe… but it seems you didn't want me to interrupt!!!” She was laughing pretty hard now though it was only annoying to the one person that could hear her- god she sounded like a hyena. He did his best to ignore the demon and scrambled to his feet to help the other male up. He was wearing a green apron with a name tag that read ‘James’ and all around them on the ground was soil and most likely ruined flowers drenched in coffee. The boy’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he grabbed his hand to help James to his feet, spitting out apologies faster than a woodchipper spits out scraps. “I am so sorry i really should have been watching where i was going oh no your flowers are ruined coffee cant be good for them oh no i'm so-” He got cut off by the florist. “Its okay, I have more- it was just a silly accident.”
James, the florist, gave a smile to the boy to make sure he knew that all was forgiven. He just seemed so genuine, light sandy hair floating in the breeze and freckled cheeks easily warmed by the little sun there was. The boy was silent, swallowing down any more apology he had to throw as a girl slid up behind him and giggled, sliding arms over his shoulder. “Get his number, come on, come on, come on!!!” it was the demon. Ugh. He wa frozen for a moment, worrying James who tilted his head and asked if he were okay. James’ words snapped the boy from his frozen state and caused him to start rummaging through his book bag for napkins. “Here! I-uh I have napkins!!” He spouted, pulling a handful out only to have the torrent wind swipe them from his fingertips and within moments having them out of sight. “Uh Uh-” He was freezing up again, coffee growing cold on his body and making him shiver, god this was hard and his demon was not making it any easier- she was bouncing around him and cheering like a cheerleader that he should date James and how he should at least get his number. She loved shipping him with strangers and this had to be a scene out of one of her fanfictions she enjoyed so much.
He was ruining his chance and she was angry about it, something needed to be done before he lost his chance with the rather cute florist. She didn't do this often because it exhausted both her and the boy but hell! Drastic times call for drastic measures and if this wasn't a drastic time then what was? She slid into his body and his eyes glowed pink for a moment as she took over control, once she had control though she got him to smile and help the florist pick up the other things that he had dropped. He kept him rather quiet but much more relaxed as he walked with James to his flower shop so they could both clean up and get warm. It wouldn't be long until they were laughing about the mishap and introducing themselves to one another. And by the tie she decided her time in the body was up the boy held a ripped piece of paper, a corner from a receipt perhaps? With James’ number on it.
She wouldn't release control of his body though until they were finally back in his small apartment, him immediately collapsing onto his bed and groaning out in pain. Possession was never a pleasant experience for either of them. She was doubled over across the room from him, whimpering softly before yawning- she then realized just how tired she was and decided to go back to being unseen, causing him a light headache that lasted about thirty seconds, By the time he was recovered she wasn't present for him to yell at. He believed her shipping antics and possession were completely unwarranted, sure the man had been cute but he most likely was straight or already was taken. How embarrassing. He wished he could remember just what was said, but he was just left with a slip of paper with some numbers on it.
He made his way out of bed and threw off his book back, jacket, and soiled shirt, leaving him in a partially dry tank top- in which he worked over to his desk to plop down and open up his laptop. Ooh a notification! The boy wonders if it is one of his three internet friends but when he finally arrives at the notifications source he is disappointed to find it is not. It's not a message but a friend request.
[James Hareild is has sent you a friend request accept?]
He groaned quietly but couldn't be rude, this guy probably really got hit on today by your possessed body. And after a day like this rejecting the friend request and just pushing today aside may not be an option. He would have to talk to ‘her’ later about this crazy invasion of privacy and boundaries. Oh well let's get this over with.
[James Hareild is now your friend]
Now that there is nothing more to do he closes his laptop and glances around his dim room, it was messy with food bags on the stained carpet and none of his clothing was even close to being in the closet. Was this becoming an unhealthy lifestyle? Yes. Does he care? No. This is something he has grown used to, there was no one to actually impress, he had no friends to show his ‘sweet crib’ to so why keep it tidy? Or at least this was his thinking on the matter. God a nap sounds good, even if his bed is covered in crumpled papers and discarded clothing, he decided a nap is what he will get. He is on his way, stepping to bed when the familiar ache in his head showed that ‘she’ was in his home again and visible. “Yes?” He called out, not seeming the happiest with her right now.
Her smile grew big and sharp again as she plopped down on the edge of the bed to look up at him, she seemed completely recharged, the opposite of himself. “Wellll!!! I thought you may want to know you have a date Saturday! You'll meet the flower boy at that silly cafe you like so much!” Her voice was just as excited as when they were walking down the concrete slabs earlier that morning- it was late afternoon now. The boy however was not amused and would not be amused, he refused to find any of this as a positive toward his normal routine. He liked the pattern he had made for himself and this random ‘ship possession’ was highly intrusive. “I can't go.” He said simply, causing her to pout and huff like a child. “What!!! And why not?!” She squeaked, seeming genuinely offended by this progression of events.
He rolled his eyes and decided he would play along at least for the moment, “I haven't even called him yet, why would I go on a date with him? “ he then got serious, joking time was over and he focused his look on her. “I don't even know what was said while you were possessing me- which was highly uncalled for by the way!”He was scolding now and she just seemed to be sitting there and taking all of it with a grain of salt, almost as if she were proud of herself, or maybe self-important. She then stood and sauntered up to him, swaying her hips as a more serious look settled into her bright and usually energetic eyes. “Well… if you found a way to rid yourself of life and give me your soul we wouldn't have this predicament would we?” Her voice instead of the streaky glass it sounded like was smooth and echoed in the room, causing the lights to flash around him.
This all would scare someone who wasn't used to it, but he had accidentally summoned this demon many years ago and this behavior was nothing new for him. He merely crossed his arms and raised a brow- “Are you done yet? These theatrics aren't really your style and they don't fit you at all” His voice was just as smooth in a mocking kind of way but it had no echo and did not cause electrical anomalies. She in reaction to this began laughing and laughing before wiping a tear away from her eye and nodding, “Yeah haha, you're right i guess.” And with that and a slight head pain she was gone again. He rolled his eyes and slid his pants down, then laying on top of his covers and deciding to get some rest, she would surely continue to torment him tomorrow until he agreed to go on the date so he knew sleep would be for the best. His eyes slid closed and finally rest consumed his consciousness.
((This is a fan ending based off of the episode that aired awhile ago! Season 4 episode 14, if you haven't watched the interaction between the riddler and the penguin go watch so I do not spoil it for you!!This is sfw!! If you want a nsfw continuation i just need enough people wanting it!))
Save you
Edward Nygma flashed his right cheek, turning and flailing about his head and torso as if he were a small child in an ocean of all he was afraid of- and he was. He couldn’t- no- he wouldn't let the riddler remove all his sensibilities; in his raw form he needed to be Ed the most, needed to be there for all he cared about- a normal life.
Somehow still the hounds of hell always dragged Mr.Nygma back to the bottom of Penguin’s throne expecting him to grovel and beg as he would have when they first met, but this was not then, and then was not now.
He wanted to hate him, wanted to feel the burning coals and embers in his stomach flame up into his chest. However, he could not. The only burning that ever occurred when he was around Oswald was the dreaded flickers that rose about in his head, blurring his vision and making his actions all less than savoury for his own selfish purposes.
Oswald held a smile, one sickeningly different from any that anyone had ever seen before, he was happy? No- there was a certain darkness that hid behind that smile, certain… evil. He may have been something close to happiness, but nothing that was too generous of him to show.
He didn't want Ed Nygma… No- he wanted The Riddler , he wanted the rush of adrenalin he got through his veins after a kill, the exhilarating feeling that zipped through his fingertips everytime they kissed, and that heart-pounding dazed state he was placed in when the Riddler played with his usually greasy unkempt hair.
Oswald’s slender snake like fingers snatched up the front of Ed Nygma’s shirt, sure Edward may love Lee- but The Riddler had an honest relationship with this complicated rivalry and right now Oswald was going to steal that back from him.
Edward glared daggers into the middle of Oswald’s forehead, gritting his teeth and almost daring him to say the word that would change him for the worse, he was going to do it and it was too late to change his mind so why try and deny that he liked who he was when he was darker. That was when he muttered the words, parting his lips just enough to get the words out, and then breathing them against Ed’s lips.
“The Riddler”
As if a flash had lighting had flashed across the sky, Ed froze and was suddenly overcome by who his real persona was, his true darkness he had yet to face. Ecstatic to see him, Oswald pressed his chest against the other’s and looked up into those eyes, their breath colliding from the closeness and putting pressure on the reuniting of the two. “Let’s get to work shall we?” The Riddler spoke smoothly, voice like cream and his smile- Oh his smile! The villainous intent it held was enough to make any child whimper out of fear.
The Riddler tilted his head down to close the distance between the two, swiftly removing the space between their lips and allowing their faces to collide with the utmost delicacy. It was heaven, their skin moving against skin while the room grew dark, hidden by the eyelids of the pair. That was when Oswald leaned up and rested both hands on the covered chest of the man in front of him, standing on his tippy toes just to match the level of intensity that The Riddler held in their lip lock.
Before long the hands that were rested so subtly began unclasping buttons-
Across the purpled sky of a shifting horizon was a pebble of darkness, a moving reflection across the staled clouds, something or someone was laid out on the ground and yet didn't seem to be animate; this was very unlike its very hectic surroundings of burning foliage and injured soldiers.
The moaning and groaning of creaking trees who couldn't handle the weight of the wind swirling around said pebble was almost all that could be heard, that was, if there were not two men currently on the search for this pebble, screaming out its name, and frantically pulling up rubble until on that horizon they grabbed something soft, something unlike everything else around them. Whatever they grabbed was warm and even slightly sticky with… something red. It was their pebble- Jean.
The first man went by Paul, He upon feeling the warmth, immediately pulled Jean out from under the rubble, taking him into his arms and then pulling out his walkie talkie to signal his partner, Patryk, that they had completed the mission and found soldier number 342, he also told him his location in order to airlift Jean back to base.
Within a matter of moments a man with longer brown hair and green eyes arrived on the scene panting because he had run to the location from where he had been searching. Patryk, as everyone called him, knelt down next to Paul who was clutching a heavily bleeding jean. He had been shot multiple times and one of those bullets went through his leg, hitting the femoral artery. Pal had placed a tourniquet but Jean was still going into shock from the bloodloss. Patryk quickly took off his jacket and placed it over jean, its a main goal when someone goes into shock to keep them warm.
Soon they were in a plane, it was the one Paul and Patryk had arrived in to find Jean, you see they were his lovers and nothing burns more than losing your love to the hatred of another soul. They had all joined the red army at a relatively young age, around 19 and 20 but were all now in their late twenties and early thirties. They had gone to boot camp together and even were coincidentally placed in the same bunk room. It wasn't long, maybe a few years, and they had all claimed the rank of second in command as well as each other's hearts.
As Patryk flew the plane Paul was desperate in the back of the plane, heart pounding so loud he could barely hear the whirring of the loud engines. Blood coated his hands as he slowly released the tourniquet allowing dark red rubies to shoot out in spurts from his leg. Jean had been unconscious when they found him and if nothing was done he would likely die soon. Paul started by adding pressure to the wound with his hands, he had to slow the bleeding if he were to get a bandage on it. He used his free hand to fumble in a first aid kit for thick cloth that was bandage like- it was meant for situations like this, next, he started to place it on his leg and every time it bled through he would add more bandages. “PATRYK GET US HOME.” Paul yelled, hopelessly forming another tourniquet on his leg as tears streamed fast down his cheeks and ran into the stubble that coated his chin.
Suddenly Jean’s body began to seize, Paul was not prepared for this type of medical emergency he was not a field medic he was a soldier and mechanic, nothing more and nothing less. He sobbed harder and worked to hold his body still, it was becoming scarily obvious that they may lose Jean to the cold grip of death However as the engine’s cut off Paul stumbled back away from the body to allow more qualified medics take his place. He fell back into the passenger seat of the plane and completely broke down, he was covered in the cooling blood of one of his lovers and he had watched him lose just so much blood. One person can only take so much. It was so much that he didn't notice the arms of his other lover, Patryk, were wrapped around him. His eyes were focused on Jean’s body which was being rushed into the red army base.
Patryk’s words were hard to hear it was like he was so far away and Paul just couldn't get a hold on himself, that was- until he heard the voice of his leader breaking through the barrier. “What happened out there? It was supposed to be a simple extraction procedure! Jean could die!” He was angry, taking Paul, his friend and beloved, by the front of his turtleneck.
Paul couldn't even make out any words, he was just not there it was like he was on another planet mentally, and his body was just stuck here. Soon enough everything went black and he lost consciousness
When the world finally became clear again paul was met with the smell of burning iron and the site of bright white fluorescents, he jumped up in a panic, heart racing again and blood still staining his clothing. That was when a soft clean hand gently grabbed hold of his, it was Tord. “Paul… Its okay everything is okay. Relax and sit back down- or better yet go take shower, you smell.” How could tord be so calm in a situation like this? This was their shared boyfriend’s life on the line for christ’s sake!
“...no” Paul murmured under his breath, standing firmer and jerking his hand away. “I cannot relax when our boyfriend could be dead and I couldn't do anything to help!” He was yelling in the waiting room, tears starting up all over again as he fell to his knees at Tord’s feet looking absolutely pitiful. However there was someone who looked even more calm than Tord, at least with tord you could see the small wrinkle in his brow that signified stress, with patryk not a trace of fear or even anxiety could be seen on his features- he looked just utterly calm
All of this was far too much, Paul moved to storm from the room only to collide with a man dressed in scrubs- the doctor. They both fell backwards and hit the tile though neither of them were seriously injured. Once apologies had been explained Paul came back into the room and sat to listen to what the doctor had to say to them.
The doctor cleared his throat and then started very sullenly, he swallowed. His leader was in the room- how could he tell him his lover may not survive the procedure needed to save his life? “Ehem- well- It seems the blood attempted to clot in the leg where the tourniquet had been placed and forced Jean to suffer a massive heart attack on the table; he survived but it will leave him prone to having them in the future. The loss of blood forced him into shock at the same time and we still are not sure if we can revive him if he decided to flat-line again.” The doctor paused and looked at his audience of three, gauging their reactions and then continuing. “He will be open for visits in thirty minutes just in case he does not survive.” Before he could be scolded and or confronted by one of the three men he fled to continue stabilizing their lover.
Paul gave in and turned to Tord, today had been such a heart wrenching trip he couldn't even produce any more tears as show of how scared he was- he just looked so cold and was even shivering lightly. He buried into his shoulder and choked up, wrapping messy arms around him. “Go take a shower Paul- we are not going to visit Jean if you stick to high heaven and look like you committed a murder.” Tord’s words were stale and sharp but Paul understood he was shifting into his cold exterior to keep from showing how worried he really was for their lover.
When Paul made it to their room he sped past Jean’s bed and things, hurrying straight to the shower and watching as red swirled around the drain. He sunk down to the floor of the tub/shower and let the water wash over him, pulling the blood down into the plumbing to never be seen again. “I-I am sorry..” He sniffled and then said, blaming himself for not being able to help Jean’s condition. Though he was preemptively mourning he made sure to time his shower well so that whenever he would return to the waiting room it would be time to visit with Jean.
When he arrived the others were waiting on him, Red taking Paul into his arms when he entered, hugging him close to his chest and sighing. “It's time to visit him Paul- let's go see how our soldier is doing.” He said this with a certain tenderness to his voice which brought a smile to paul’s face.
Soon they arrived in Jean’s hospital room. He was attached to so many tubes and wires he looked like he had been in a train wreck when in fact he had been in something even worse- a war.
The three men circled around him, Paul and Tord on one side of the bed and Patryk on the other .Jean’s eyes were barely opened, his skin deathly pale and his lips were faded and chapped. He looked like he had shook hands with death and that was simply because he had. “Oh god… Jean how are you feeling?” Patryk started, hoping to somehow stirr him into being more awake for them. “I’m so sorry..” Paul followed up, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Tord stayed quiet, just observing his lover with morose eyes.
Jean, after a few moments spoke up, absolving their worry with just a few words. “I… I love all of you so much” His voice was weak and yet it was filled with hope and a confidence that only psychics have, he even had a small glimmer of a smile curving the corners of his lips. “You all have done so much trying to help, but really i'm not dead yet and I don't plan to be for a very long time” He followed with a weak laugh, looking to paul first who had been desperately caring for him on the plane. “My love, please- please do not be sorry you tried your best and I am so damn grateful to have you in my life.” He next turned to Tord, it was as if he were saying his goodbyes. :Tord, my brave red leader, my dear, thank you for remaining strong when I know you out of all people want to worry and fuss about me.”
He ended on Patryk, leaning up with a pained wince to kiss his cheek. “Its okay pat, I understand your effort to keep up your tough guy resolve but really it is unnecessary, you are aloud to be scared- hell! I am scared! I was shot!” Him and patryk shared a laugh before he continued. “My beautiful Patryk, you are simply divine and I want you to look out for this one okay?” He pointed to Paul.
They all shared a laugh at that and then leaned in to all hug and love on Jean, Paul started it by peppering his face in kisses, avoiding his oxygen mask as to keep him healthy and alive. He was afraid any sudden move would hurt him. Tord followed by nuzzling against his chest and neck and then Patryk finished up by lightly hugging him. It was all a sad and yet picturesque moment for them.
Six weeks later Jean would be fully healed and able to go back to his room, and when he got there the boys had the surprise of as lifetime waiting for him. A king sized bed so they would no longer share bunks. “SURPRISE!”: They all shouted and then rushed Jean in a hug who instantly teared up.
