#I'll more than likely add it here after my reread

[chiss-ticism]

Here's a random assortment of quotes I collected in relation to Thrawn, the Chiss Ascendancy, the Grysks, and the Unknown Regions that caught my eye during my read-through of their canon material. Admittedly, having finished typing them all out - they're mostly focused on the Ascendancy though the other topics of mentioned do get their own individual spotlights, even if they are a bit more dim Hardly would I consider this to be an exhaustive exploration into either Thrawn as a character or the Ascendancy as a society, but rather minute things that pinged my attention as I read HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD, I can't stress enough to try and give the books themselves a try before reading through these and, should you choose to continue otherwise, please read through them at your own risk:

Nine Ruling Families

Ufsa

Irizi

Dasklo

Clarr

Chaf

Plikh

Boadil

Mitth

Obbic

Chiss Family Ranks

Blood

Cousin

Ranking Distant

Trial Born

Merit Adoptive

Political Hierarchy

Patriarch - Head of the family.

Speaker - Head of the family's delegation to the Syndicure.

Syndic Prime - Head syndic.

Syndic - Member of the Syndicure, the main governmental body.

Patriel - handles family affairs on a planetary scale.

Councilor - Handles family affairs at a local level.

Aristocra - Mid-level member of one of the Nine Ruling Families.

Military Ranks

Supreme Admiral

Supreme General

Fleet Admiral

Senior General

Admiral

General

Mid Admiral

Mid General

Commodore

Senior Captain

Mid Captain

Junior Captain

Senior Commander

Mid Commander

Junior Commander

Lieutenant Commander

Lieutenant

Senior Warrior

Mid Warrior

Junior Warrior

- "Interesting offer," Anakin said. And now, finally, he was close enough. Taking a deep breath, he stretched out to the Force. The intruder wasn't human, though of course Anakin had already guessed that. He was near-human, though, like many other species in the Republic. But the texture of his mind was unlike anything Anakin had ever touched before. It was neat and well ordered, the patterns of though flowing smoothly and precisely in ways not unlike those of scientists or mathematicians. But the content of that flow, and the muted emotions accompanying it, were completely opaque. It was like a neat and precise array of unfamiliar numbers. (Thrawn Alliances, p. 36) -

"I understood travel into the Unknown Regions was difficult." "Indeed," Thrawn said. "The hyperlanes are few and not easy to traverse. But system jumps are possible if a traveler has sufficient time and is content with traversing limited distances." "And if one was not content with limited distances?" "One would need a careful study of the border," Thrawn said. "Millenia ago a set of chained supernova explosions throughout this particular region threw planet- and moon-sized masses at high speeds across the stars. The movements of those masses continually alter the hyperlanes, changing the paths in ways that are difficult to calculate. Other phenomena in other parts of the border created similar borders. The hyperlanes that remain largely intact are beset with other dangers." (A Conversation between Thrawn and Vader, Thrawn Alliances, p. 64) -

"You will first appreciate that this is among the most closely guarded secrets of the Chiss Ascendancy," he said. "As I noted when we first reached this region of space, there are few stable hyperlanes into and through the Unknown Regions. Because of this, most species stay close to their own systems, preferring to travel along shorter lanes and unwilling to take the time necessary for the much slower jump-by-jump travel." "But the Chiss do not wish to be so limited?" "Indeed not," Thrawn said, a hint of contempt creeping into his voice. "For all their pronouncements of non-interference in others' activities, the Aristocras have a deep desire to know what those activities consist of. Our scouts range far and wide, entering even into the parts of space once claimed by the Republic and now claimed by the Empire." He gestured. "As you well know.""

"I have been so informed by the Emperor," Vader said stiffly. Again, Thrawn was poking uncomfortably close to the edge. "Tell me about the children." "We do not have nav computers able to plot safe paths through the chaos of the Unknown Regions hyperspace," Thrawn said. "Nor do the Chiss produce appreciable numbers of Force-sensitives, though we call their gift Third Sight. But when such rare individuals are born, they come to us with but one ability, that of precognition." And suddenly Vader understood. The same ability that allowed him to peer into the future far enough to know when and where an attack was coming was being used by the Chiss to sense dangers looming ahead of a ship in time to avoid them. "They navigate your ships," he said. "Finding and mapping temporary hyperlanes even as they steer new paths along them." "Exactly," Thrawn waved a hand in the direction of the girls' quarters. "You can now appreciate the reason for our secrecy. An enemy wishing to duplicate our success cannot simply steal a computer or computer program. He must take rare and precious living beings from us." His eyes narrowed. "That cannot be allowed." (Thrawn Alliances, p. 352) -

There was a flicker in Thrawn's sense. Vader looked up, to see a small smile on his face. "Do you find this amusing, Admiral?" he challenged. "No, not at all, my lord," Thrawn hastened to assure him. "I was simply recalling a memory. I told you the Chiss call this talent Third Sight. What I hadn't yet spoken of is the title these navigators are given once they take their posts." "Which is?" "The Cheunh word is ozly-eschembo," Thrawn said. "In basic it translates to 'sky-walker.' " Another small smile. "You can imagine my momentary surprise when I first encountered General Anakin Skywalker." (Thrawn Alliances, p. 360) -

For another moment Thrawn remained silent. Then he took a slow, measured breath. "Yes," he said. "Though ironically such devices are of no use to our own people. Yes it was a Chiss shuttle you saw, my lord. But my message to the Grysks, and its importance to the Empire still remain." "Do they?" Vader countered. "Was your message to warn the Grysks away from the Empire? Or was it a warning to whatever group of Chiss are working with them that you are aware of their presence?" Thrawn smiled faintly. But Vader could sense the pain behind the smile. "Why can it not be both?" "Was it both?" Thrawn turned away. "There were stirrings of political conflict when I left my people for the Empire those many years ago," he said. "I assumed the Aristocras would settle their differences, as they have so many times before. This time, perhaps they could not. Or perhaps the Grysks have made deeper inroads into our culture than I'd hoped." Vader gazed at the Chiss, feeling the dark irony deep within him. "So you who have never hidden your contempt for the Republic's handling of the Clone Wars now stand on the edge of your own civil war?" "Or have already taken our first steps into it," Thrawn said. "If one side is already under the control of the Grysks..." He shook his head. "Your earlier though was perhaps closer to the mark than you knew. Perhaps the true purpose of closing the border is to prevent me from bringing the Empire against them." (Thrawn Alliances, p. 444) -

"Acknowledged," Eli called back, mentally rolling his eyes. The majority of Chiss names were composed of multiple syllables in three distinct parts, the first of which identified the person's family, the second of which was the given name, and the third of which reflected some social factor Eli hadn't yet figured out. Since using multisyllable titles all the time could seriously bog down conversations -and worse, timely military orders- the normal convention was to use core names for everything except in the most formal situations. (Thrawn Treason, p. 55) -

He turned, fixing her with such an intense look that she reflexively drew back a little. "What's happened to our capital, Ziara?" "The same thing that happened to the whole planet," Ziara said quietly. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have done that to you, but you're not supposed to know." "To know what? That the people of Csilla are gone?" "Oh, they're not gone," she said. "Well, yes, most of them are, but the big exodus happened over a thousand years ago. What they taught you in school about how the changes in the sun's output and the slow freezing of the surface forced the population of Csilla underground is mostly true. What the histories leave out is that the numbers that moved below were a far cry from the four billion who'd been living here at the time." "Where did they go?" "Other planets," Ziara said. "Mostly Rentor, Avidich, and Sarvchi. The Syndicure and fleet headquarters were kept here, along with a lot of cargo and merchant facilities. Some of the families moved their homesteads to worlds where they already had strong presences, but most didn't want to leave Csilla entirely." "They also moved underground?" "Right," Ziara said. "My family's new homestead - well, new as of a thousand years ago - is in a huge cavern about two kilometers below the surface. Still on our same land, of course. The Irizi are a bit obsessive about territory and history." "So how many people actually live on Csilla?" "Sixty or seventy million," Ziara said. "Though all of the official records put the number at eight billion. " She waved at the city around them. "All of this is just for show." "For whom?" "Our visitors," she said. "Our alien trading partners." She felt her throat tighten. "Our enemies." "So a few continue to live aboveground to create the illusion," Thrawn murmured. "Light and heat are also maintained. Tube cars continue to travel across the remaining cities, pretending to be the traffic of a thriving population." He looked at Ziara . "I presume that on the far side our tube will descend into one of the tunnels?" She nodded. "There are a few hundred people in Csaplar at any given time. They're rotated out frequently so they don't have to put up with the conditions up here for very long. The rest of the city - the real city- is spread out in caverns, mostly concentrated around the Syndicure complex. More illusion for our diplomatic visitors." "And of course, most civilian visitors and merchants stay close to one of the spaceports," Thrawn said, nodding. "The activity there and round the government complex disguises the emptiness of the rest of the city. (Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising, p. 247) -

Thalias sighed. So embarrassing... "I was going to say you're ten now," she said. "And that reminded me that I missed your starday. I'm so sorry. With all that was going on last month, I just totally forgot it." "It's okay," Che'ri said, hunching her shoulders. Her voice was quiet, and Thalias could hear the distant hurt beneath it. "It's not like I remember being taken to the skylight to see my first star. And, you know. Parties and treasure-puzzle poems are mostly for little kids." (Starday Celebrations, Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good p. 25) -

"I'm currently on a wandering year, Councilor Lakuviv," Yoponek said. "I'm traveling the Ascendancy, seeking knowledge and experience outside the classroom walls." "Ah," Lakuviv said, nodding. Wandering years were a staple of some families: a gap year after basic schooling when a young person could travel and learn, meditate and self-examine, before returning to advanced schooling or other job training. Proponents of the program claimed it helped young people better decide their goals and talents in order to avoid false starts in future studies. Critics saw it as a waste of parental money, with little evidence that it did anything but allow the midager to wallow in an extended period of self-indulgent laziness. Cynics said its true purpose was to get them out form underfoot during what was traditionally the most pompous and condescending time in their lives. (Wandering Years & "Midagers", Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good p. 57)

- Sky-walker Bet'nih was at the navigation station, with Caregiver Soomret standing behind her. Their presence meant no non-bridge personnel were permitted. (Thrawn Ascendancy, Greater Good: p. 294) -

Jump to a system. Come out of hyperspace. Confirm position. Move through space-normal to the departure point necessary to line up for the next jump. Recheck possible hyperspace anomalies between jump points. Jump to the next point on the list, which was seldom more than five or six star systems away. Come out of hyperspace. Repeat.

(a description of jump-by-jump travel, Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good, p. 332) -

"Again, Pathfinder, calm yourself," Jixtus said, more severely this time. "The Grysks lay blame only where it's deserved, and only on those who fail us. Each of our servants is responsible solely for his own decisions and actions, not for another's" "Yes, sir," Qilori said, feeling his winglets and his tension subsiding. He'd never heard of a species by that name. Or a faction, if that's what they were. Or a combine, or a gang, or something else entirely. A name by itself really didn't contain much information. (Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good, p. 404) - Many years ago, when Senior Captain Xodlak'in'daro first joined the Expansionary Defense Fleet, there had been an elaborate ceremony to celebrate her rematching form her birth family to the Xodlak family. Lakinda didn't remember much about the ritual except that it was big and flashy and completely overwhelmed her simple commoner tastes. ... Of all the duties foisted on low-ranking family members, Aristocra Mitth'ras'safis had often heard the task of welcoming new merit adoptives to their formal rematching dinner was one of the worst. The newcomers were either highly skilled additions to the Mitth, in which case they tended to have an overblown opinion of themselves and their value; or they were freshly initiated into the Ascendancy military. Nearly all of the blood, cousins, and ranking distants opted out of reception duty, leaving most of the burden to fall on Trial-borns and other merit adoptives, none of whom had enough pull to avoid it. (Rematching Parties, Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil, p. 35 & 39) -

The Universal Analysis Group on Sposia was the clearinghouse where all alien artifacts and technology collected by the Ascendancy were taken to be studied. Most of the historical pieces eventually went to museums or art collections, while most of the technological items proved too damaged or fragmentary to be of any use and were either cataloged into storage chambers or simply destroyed. But every so often a piece of technology was found that was complete enough to be studied. Those rare items were taken to a special underground complex where teams of scientists and techs worked painstakingly to coax out their secrets. And occasionally - very occasionally- one of those was deemed of military value and moved to Vault Four. (Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil, p. 53) -

"You're absolutely sure?" Thalias pressed again, smiling to herself. As the Springhawk's only two civilians, she and Che'ri were supposedly allowed to wear whatever clothing they liked on duty. (Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil p. 63) -

But not just any warship. This craft was huge: three, possibly even four times bigger than the Whetstone. The bow bristled with clusters of spectrum lasers, with more lasers and missle tubes pointed toward the Kiljis from the massive weapons shoulders. Lines of running lights marked the flanks and dorsal spine, accenting the warship length and sheer presence. (A description of a Grysk Shatter-class WarMaster. Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil p. 88) -

Millennia ago, the Chiss had traveled extensively in Lesser Space, where legends said the inhabitants used computerized machines to chart their way between the stars. (Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil, p. 124) -

#please bear in mind that the idea to do this didn't spark until 427 pages into thrawn '17 #so a whole heap of lore presented in that book isn't here #like the infrared sight #I'll more than likely add it here after my reread #There's also a lot I left out intentionally #whether that be on account of me not being able to find the pages again #(like with the Ascendancy having been allied with the Sith Empire) #Or major spoilers that you guys should really read the books to find out about ;) #or mundane information being revealed like family names change if you marry outside of it #Star Wars #Thrawn spoilers #Grand Admiral Thrawn #Mitth'raw'nuruodo #Thrawn #Chiss Ascendancy #pat rambles into the void #long post #Yes I typed each quote out individually #how did you know

[irondad-defensesquad]

My Irondad fic recs!

I thought of doing this because why not? Admittedly, I'm not reading as much fanfiction as I did a couple years ago, but some fics have changed my life entirely. In case I forgot one, I'll add it later!

I would’ve organized this in a bullet list, but Tumblr hates me and invented a character limit for that. So this is going to be long and will be under the cut. Anyway, let’s do this!

Rare and Sweet As Cherry Wine by loubuttons – I've mentioned this one before, but this fic right here was what inspired me to write my own Irondad works. One very particular detail I like about it is how it portrays Maria, Tony's mother. It's not what I usually see in other fics about Tony's childhood, since they tend to make Howard the big bad parent. Of course, this is because I personally related to it, as I don't believe in the "bad parent vs. good parent". I also like that it praises Edwin Jarvis as the one who looked out for Tony the most. It's pretty realistic and a very melancholic character study, IMO. *TW for abuse and neglect*

You're Always Iron Man by madasthesea – a very short fic but I absolutely love the premise. Takes place after the big battle in Iron Man 2, and Tony finds little Peter again. They have a very endearing interaction. The following chapter is also very cute!

Nothing like a fresh cup of humiliation in the morning by madasthesea – Pure fluff! This one is probably a classic in the Irondad fandom. Tony kisses Peter's forehead without second thought. Shenanigans ensue. It's so adorable and funny. If you just want to read fluff without angst, this one is for you.

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by madasthesea - I think I heard about this fic thanks to @/irondadfics here on Tumblr, but I might be wrong since I already knew the Nice work, kid series. Anyway, Peter is believed to be dead, so Tony (and the rest of the Avengers team) is mourning him. In reality, Peter is astral projecting. You know, sort of like how Stephen Strange, in his first movie, was fighting a guy in the other dimension while his body on Earth was struggling to live. That's basically what happens. Strange appears, of course, and saves the day. And I pretty much LOVE the presumed dead trope. I don't know why. Maybe it's the angst of it all. *TW for grief/mourning and temporary character death*

The Reason by doctornineandthreequarters – I think I read this one when I was still writing Oh, take me back to the start. I was looking for fics for inspiration, and I found this one. During the Time Heist in Endgame, Tony remembers the reason he's fighting to bring everyone else back. It's very emotional.

Couch Cuddles by happyaspie – Classic sickfic, but with more fluff than anything. I like rereading it when I feel lonely and touch-starved, especially when I'm also sick like Peter.

You’re So Much Like Me (I’m Sorry) by SpaceCowboysFromMars – Irondad + Miles Morales! Peter is an adult in this, and he freaks out when an injured Miles arrives in his apartment. Tony gives him some wisdom about mentoring and parenting. I don’t usually find Irondad stories featuring Miles (and not necessarily a Spider-Verse crossover), so this was a nice discovery. Peter & Miles & Tony is a very underrated trio IMO. *TW for slight gore*

I'm Glad I Have You by punkybunny – Peter has been having a rough time, dealing with loneliness as Aunt May is not home often, and with bullying at school... until he finally has the chance to spend time with Tony. However, the demons don't disappear completely. Obviously, more Hurt/Comfort, lmao. *TW for nightmare/bad dream*

I Want to Trust You by punkybunny – Actually part of a series that, admittedly, I haven't read all the other stories. But even this one is a very interesting concept on its own. This is a Hydra Peter AU, after Peter has been rescued. He gets sick but given his past in Hydra, he thinks Tony is going to get angry. Peter is proven wrong when Tony helps him get better. The ending is very adorable. I'll see if I can read the rest of the series one day. *TW for past abuse and experimentation*

what you think I've done wrong by ironxprince – I don't often read Biodad stories as you all know, but I was, again, looking for inspiration for You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I stumbled across this one. Basically Peter, as Tony's biological son, finally meets Howard. It goes as well as you think /sarcasm. *TW for physical abuse*

i, in time, will climb my mountain by ironxprince – This one is heavy. Once again, Peter is Tony's bio son, and he's suicidal. Every time Peter attempts suicide, he buys a new plant. Tony doesn't know this, so he's confused as to why there are so many plants in their house. I love this one, but of course, I try to read it when I’m not having a really bad day. *Once again, TW for suicide attempts*

how do you get that lonely (and nobody knows?) by parkrstark – Yeah... another heavy one. Peter attempts suicide but he saves himself before he reaches the ground. With that, he goes to Tony. This ends happily, don't worry. *TW for suicide attempt*

When You Can't Sleep by Emily_F6 – Pretty much Tony comforting a sleepy Peter, who has just had a nightmare about Thanos. Just Hurt/Comfort and domestic fluff. *TW for mention of death*

i get by (but it's eating me alive) by Livinei – Honestly, I think this is the BEST May's Abusive Boyfriend story I've ever read. For one, none of the characters are oblivious nor dismissive of Peter's feelings. May isn't neglectful and Ned actually tries to encourage Peter to tell someone. I also like that Peter isn't completely helpless. I don't usually see those things in other fics with this trope, sadly. And of course, Protective Tony is my weakness. *TW for emotional and physical abuse*

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea – Post-Endgame where Tony is alive, and Peter and Tony are both trying to cope, so they rely on each other. Pure Hurt/Comfort.

A Tremendous Thing by ExpectoPatronum – Possibly one of my favorite Irondad stories EVER. Also post-Endgame with Alive Tony (though the author better explains it in the notes, it's supposed to be part of a series, but this story can be read on its own). There are a lot of references to Charlotte's Web if you're familiar with it. Basically, it's Father's Day and Peter is feeling guilty and out of place at Tony's lake house, even though everyone is readily trying to include him. It's absolutely beautiful and painful.

Hug You I Must by spiderwriting (catch_you_later) – Probably one of the first touch-starved Peter fics I've read. I like how it describes touch-starvation as this "itchy" current in your body, something that makes you anxious. Thankfully, Peter gets his hug later on. Plus there are some Star Wars references (the title probably is one, lol). *There's some minor violence here when Peter is fighting off some bad guys, but not the focus of the fic*

When You're There With No One There To Hold, I'll Be The Arms That Reach For You by Squibbles94 – Another touch-starved Peter fic. But I really like the references to Cast Away. Ironically I saw this movie in the same year the author published this fic (dare I say SHORTLY after it was posted). I also had no idea that Cast Away was entirely about isolation. Gosh, the main character's monologue at the end ALWAYS gets to me... anyway, yeah, the peak of the pandemic was awful to me, so reading fics like this one helped tons. It still does.

I am cold by N/A (orphan account) – Peter tries to visit Tony, but he gets lost in a subway tunnel on a freezing day. Eventually we learn why Peter wanted to see Tony, but overall this is mainly domestic fluff. Everything ends well.

Sorry Pedro by PinkEasterEggs – One of the first Irondad fics I read. Peter has a nightmare about Homecoming (mainly Toomes), but he avoids waking Tony for that reason. But thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocols, Peter goes to his mentor. Tony is also super soft here and it makes my heart swoon.

you are enough by diaz_evan – Another post-Endgame fic. Arguably I began reading Irondad fics only after Endgame released. Anyway, this one is short, kinda sad but it ends well. It’s Tony’s birthday and Peter feels very anxious about what to get him as a present. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to prove his love for Tony. *TW for panic attack*

Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark by downeylove – There are a lot of Father’s Day fics for these two, of course, but this one takes the cake for me. It’s simple but very endearing to me. Tony obviously doesn’t have good memories of this day, but Peter changes that for the first time. It’s really cute. Plus, Pepper is here, and I love her. I wish I could read more of her interacting with Peter. *TW for mentions of alcoholism and past child abuse*

5 Times Peter Didn’t Say He Was Struggling… And The One Time He Did by Bladam_Shevine – Again, an old fic I read years ago. I admit I haven’t re-read it in a while, but I remember enjoying it and even saving it to read offline. It’s basically what it says in the title: Peter struggles in many ways and he initially refuses help. Tony is always there to reassure him he can count on him. Bruce is here if you like him! And MJ helps Peter on one of the chapters as well. The chapters might get heavier as they go, but it ends on a hopeful note. *TW for injury, panic attack, suicide attempt (it doesn’t involve Peter), and depression*

The Good Days and the Bad by SoupGirlLovesSoup - Peter has had a bad day, now he's cuddling with Tony. It takes a while before Peter finally tells him what happened. It gets sad, but it's mostly fluff and it ends hopefully. I love re-reading it when I need the comfort. *TW for mention of suicide attempt, depression, and bullying*

Breathe Again by gwenoakley - Post-Endgame where Tony survives. He's recovering in the hospital and Peter finally reunites with him. Before that, though, we can feel the anxiety and trauma Peter feels. Definitely makes me emotional. It's the ending they deserved.

Well, for now this is it! Again, I might add more fics here. I think I also could make a list of what particular concepts I want to read more in Irondad stories, so maybe you guys could give me your own recs. I might try to resume my habit of reading Irondad fics, because they give me a lot of comfort. Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoy any of the stories I included.

(I'm aware some authors here have their accounts on Tumblr, but I didn't want to annoy anyone by tagging them, so yeah 😅)

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #fic rec #anti starker

[munson-blurbs]

Hey my love I have a request for you, I'm a sucker for the one bed trope so I hope you forgive me. I was thinking maybe of a reader who's been Corroded Coffin's manager since high school, where she was just booking their gigs for free, but now that they've made it big it's more serious. She takes so much on and gets everything the guys need or want, no matter the effort, until she fucks up one night and has a breakdown. She accidentally books one less room than she meant too, a small thing, but she's been under so much stress that it causes her to crack. Eddie comforts her and she sleeps in his bed with him, where they might admit their feelings?

Sorry if this was too specific

Not too specific at all! I love it!

Warnings: language, bed sharing, no smut

WC: 1.5k

--

"This is it, baby!" Eddie says as the taxi van pulls up to the hotel. "N-Y-C! We made it!" His smile is so wide, you're worried it might fall off of his face. "Who would've thought that four schmucks from Hawkins, Indiana would be playing Radio City?"

I always knew, you think. You've been managing Corroded Coffin since high school, first booking gigs at school dances and local hole-in-the-wall venues. You'd assumed that the guys would find a new manager once they signed with a record label, but they'd insisted you stick around.

"I can't wait to wash the airplane stink off of me," Jeff complains. "What are the room arrangements again?"

"You and Gareth, Eddie and Trevor, and then me," you tell him.

Gareth audibly groans at the assignments. "Why do you get your own room?" he whines.

"When you have boobs, you can have your own room," you retort, and you hear Eddie's laughter hum through the car.

"She's got ya there, dude," he ribs him. "Now help me get all of this shit out of the trunk."

You pay the cab driver and thank him as the guys unload the luggage and instruments, still arguing over the rooms.

"Welcome to the Cityscape Hotel," a bored-looking receptionist drones from behind the oak desk. Her silver-plated name tag reads Faye. "What name is the reservation under?"

You give her your name as she looks it up in the reservation book. "Yup, I see it here. Two king rooms, correct?"

"Um, no," you stammer, palms sweating. "Should be three rooms: one king and two queens."

Faye clucks her tongue and tilts her head, rereading the entry. "Mm, nope. We only have you down for the two kings."

"N-no, I'm sure I booked..." You feel your cheeks burning as the guys stare at you. Fuck. "Do you have any other rooms we can book?" You have the record label's credit card in your wallet, so you could pay any price.

"We're completely sold out this weekend," she informs you, not an ounce of remorse in her voice. "The rooms have pull-out beds that fit one, though."

"See?" Eddie chimes in, throwing an arm around you comfortingly. "It'll all work out. We'll just re-arrange things."

"Who are you gonna bunk with?" Gareth asks you pointedly. "Looks like your boobs aren't getting you out of this one."

You huff, trying to blink away the tears. You had one fucking job and you blew it, the weekend of their biggest gig yet.

"I'll stay with her," Eddie offers, "if that's okay with you," he adds, gazing at you with his chocolate brown eyes.

"Y-yeah, that's fine," you mumble. The thought of sharing a room with Eddie makes you hot all over. You've had the fattest, most embarrassing crush on him since high school; now, five years after graduation, you'd never so much as considered telling him.

"Great! It's settled then!" Eddie grabs your room key off of the desk and motions to the luggage on the ground. "Let's get this shit unpacked so we can get something to eat. I'm starving!"

After chowing down on some incredible pizza--no one does it like New York City--you all head back to your rooms. Traveling always exhausts you, and you're desperately craving a good night's sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Eddie tells you as he unlocks the door. "You can have the bed."

"Such a gentleman," you tease, "but are you sure? I'm not the one playing Radio City tomorrow."

Eddie nods. "Positive." He starts to pull out the sofa bed, groaning when the spring sticks. Re-adjusting his grip, he tries again, to no avail.

"Everything okay?" you ask, grabbing your toothbrush from your suitcase.

"It's, uh, it's broken," he laments. "You wanna try?"

"Sure," you shrug. You give it a shot, but you're just as successful as Eddie was. "Fuck!" you cry out, kicking the leg and wincing in pain. Tears spill over your lashes as you plop down onto the bed. You rest your head in your hands as the sobs wrack your body. "Nothing is going right!"

"Whoa," Eddie breathes, sitting down next to you and rubbing your back. "It's totally okay."

"No, it's not!" you protest. "I wanted everything to be perfect, and I ruined it. I'm so sorry, Eddie."

"Ruined--sweetheart, without you, we would never have even made it this far," he brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear. "You're the one who got us that meeting with the label exec, remember? We owe all of this to you."

You sniffle and rest your head on his shoulder. "You're just saying that so I'll stop crying."

"Nope," he gives you a small smile. "We'd still be playing to our crowd of five drunks at the Hideout if you weren't our manager." He stands up and offers his hand. "C'mon, let's get ready for bed. The lack of sleep probably isn't helping."

"B-but where are you gonna sleep?" you ask quietly.

He frowns, crinkling his nose. "Maybe we could share the bed? No weird stuff, I promise." He holds up his hands in surrender, making you giggle.

The two of you wash up before bed; the whole routine seems extraordinarily domestic for people who aren't in a relationship. Eddie nudges your hip while you brush your teeth together, and you flick his bicep in retaliation.

"Nice pajamas," he jokes, pointing at the oversized Corroded Coffin t-shirt that covers most of your shorts. "Are they any good?"

"Eh," you shrug. "They've got one or two songs I like. I actually found this shirt in the dumpster."

Eddie gasps in mock-offense. "How dare you!" he bellows, and you shush him before any of the other guests can make a noise complaint.

You turn off the lights and climb into bed. Eddie gets in next to you, wearing just his undershirt and boxer shorts. You feel the heat radiating from his body, and you wish you had the courage to snuggle into him.

"Good night," you say softly. You're so tired; you should fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, but the nerves coursing through your veins have other plans.

"Hey, Y/N?" Eddie muses. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mm?"

He sighs. "How come you're only managing us? Not that we don't want you to," he adds hastily, "but you could be doing anything else. Managing much bigger talent, to be honest."

"I love being your manager," you tell him. "It's been amazing watching your dreams come true. My little rockstars are all grown up." You wipe an imaginary tear from your eyes.

"I'm serious!" he whines, and you realize he's inched closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder. You can smell the minty aftertaste of his toothpaste on his breath. "I can't believe you've stuck with us this long."

Because I love you, you think, but you push the idea aside. "I never thought I'd make a career out of it, but maybe I could. I can make business cards and everything!" The thought excites you; you'd been toying with the idea of being a professional manager, but it sounded silly until Eddie said it.

"B-but you wouldn't stop being our manager, right?" Eddie stutters. "Because I-we still need you." He rubs his his face. "Fuck. I'm really nervous right now."

You nuzzle into him. "You have no reason to be nervous, Eds," you reassure him. "You're gonna kill it out there tomorrow. This city isn't gonna know what hit 'em."

"No," he shakes his head, his mop of curls tickling your face. "I'm nervous because--because I really, really fuckin' like you, Y/N. And being next to you in this bed...God, this is gonna sound so lame, but I just wanna hold you." He gives a short laugh. "Prettiest girl in the world is in my bed, and I can only think about being a big spoon."

"Technically, you're in my bed," you correct him playfully. "But I'd like it if you held me. And I'm definitely more of a little spoon, so it sounds meant to be." You shift so your back is against his chest, his strong arm draped over your torso. After a few minutes, you feel him press soft kisses to the nape of your neck, and your heart flutters.

"'M sorry," he pulls back, realizing what he's doing.

You turn to face him, bringing nose to nose. "Don't be." And before you lose your courage, you bring your lips to his. His hand instinctively flies to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss, breaking it only to take a breath.

"All right, rockstar," you say sleepily, kissing his nose before settling back into your cuddling position. "Get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you."

"Yeah," Eddie mumbles into his pillow, rubbing his thumb along your arm, "like I'm really gonna sleep after that."

--

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #requests

[rhoorl]

Week in Review | Dec. 10

Hi! How are you? I can't believe we're nearing the midway point of December! I am happy to get back to my typical Week in Review style after an abbreviated version last week!

Same shit different week for me when it comes to my TBR, I add more than I can read. But alas, here's what I got to:

Fics I read this week:

Frankie Morales

I Like the Way You (Frankie) by @undercoverpena - I've kept this series in my Current Compulsory Series section for weeks, but I'm pulling it up to the top this week because we got the final part this week! It's always a bit bittersweet to me when I get to the end of a series, especially one I'm following in real-time. I loved following along each week and immersing myself in this story and I’m sad it's done (but hey, great news, I can now reread it from the beginning and binge!). Great job Jo! 💕

While I'm talking about Jo, here's this saucy one-shot Coming Under the Christmas Tree

Joel Miller

Footprints by @sin-djarin - This brought back some Christmas morning nostalgia for me! Joel as a dad and the love he has for Sarah makes me melt. And we have an Uncle Tommy appearance too!

Mr. Ben

SOS by brnn on AO3 - I’m not sure if this creator is on Tumblr, but if they are let me know! I had several chapters of this story built up that I hadn’t caught up on and when the final chapter dropped I binged what I had left! Mr. Ben and OFC Clare are adorable. 

Din Djarin

Safe to The Touch by @linzels-blog A touch-starved Din gets some lovin’. 💕

A Baker’s Dozen by @avastrasposts Part 2 in Mel's series saw Din come into the bakery. This was so sweet (no pun intended!).

Other Characters

Good Things Take Time by @oonajaeadira -  This series is so good! I've had it recommended to me several times and I've been slowly working my way through it, savoring it because I don't want it to end! I read Parts 2 and 3 this week along with the various drabbles in between. The chemistry these two have is *chef's kiss*

Current Compulsory Series:

These are the series I am keeping up with at the moment.

Holiday Prompts (Various) by @trulybetty - A healthy serving of delicious stories this week. I officially want to move to Maplewood, well, maybe visit. I'll be honest, I'm not made for the cold anymore. 😆 Also, Tim and Cagney continue to be a favorite as are Frankie and Mav! And Dieter made me google Christmas hippo socks which somehow I already did not own! 🦛

Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie) by @linzels-blog The rollercoaster I felt with this latest chapter … I have to know what happens next!!

Destiny & Deliverance (Dieter) by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings This latest chapter had me all up in my feels. These two are 🥹💕

Paranoid Heat (Javi P) by @goodwithcheese I think I've finally managed to pick my jaw up off the floor from the spicy scene in the latest chapter.

Undercover (Tim Rockford) by @secretelephanttattoo Another great chapter update this week, El!! Grumpy Tim and his pet fish are living rent free in my head.

It’s Never Too Late (Javi P) by @javierpena-inatacvest - There is some dad Javi content I need to catch up on!!

Posts from the week:

The moodboards @wildemaven puts out are always gold, but this Frankie holiday-themed board just made me swoon 

@laurfilijames made me think about which holiday movies the TF boys would be into. I also hastily made a graphic lol. Speaking of asks @maggiemayhemnj gave me an almost impossible this or that choice. My friend @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain offered up these choices.

If you need a badge for any Pedro boy, @morallyinept has you covered

We got our first look at Pedro in Freaky Tales and oh goodness … the scar. Seriously help us all whenever the Gladiator photos leak. 

In case you missed it, the fun writing challenge that’s going around here's another plug. I finally have an idea … now I just need to write it. I think I’m going to end up throwing it back to my college days and cramming this in at the last minute….

Feral corner:

There was simply too much to keep track of this week. I was overwhelmed by thots. I think this post sums things up well.

This photo altered my brain chemistry. This photo of Pedro as Dieter and THEN this video… oh hey Working Title Dieter. 😏 Frankie tummy always gets me. Javi P in this jacket. Talk about gifs you can hear. This outfit - he knew what he was doing when we wore this right?

@foralonglongtime - no pressure but I’m very excited about the prospect of this…

This scene from TLOU forever changed me. 

Garrett Hedlund: This man was utterly too much this week. Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C, and finally, the post that started my spiral.

Things I watched:

I didn't make it to the movies this week, Mr. Rhoorl went and saw Godzilla Minus One and loved it. He's a huge Godzilla fan so he was pretty excited to see it. I’m off fo work tomorrow so I’m planning on seeing Wish.

Something that is releasing soon that I'm excited to see is Rebel Moon with Charlie Hunnam on Netflix. It looks like it will be available for my UK fans this week, but we in the US have to wait until the 21st.

Personal Stuff

Busy week. Both Mr Rhoorl and I had PTO on different days this week and we both had our plans thwarted by a sick baby. She's ok now, all good! Otherwise, we've been mostly laying low. I have managed to get most of my holiday shopping done and our Christmas cards arrived so that's exciting! We've also been checking out the various theme parks - I love the way they decorate this time of year! We did a holiday cookie stroll at Epcot last night and it was yummy

Fic updates:

I had Benny Miller brain rot again (when don't I at this point?). Anyway, the result was a third part of what I guess is now the unofficial "Are You on Mute" series. I do have plans for wrapping those one-shots up into something bigger. I just frankly keep having thots I have to get out and it's distracting me😆

I did manage to get a good amount of writing done for the next chapter of Delta Landscaping. Hoping to get the new episode out early this week. Whenever I get down on myself that I'm not updating that series fast enough I remind myself it's essentially like 6 different series in one so therein lies the delays 🫣

This can be such a stressful part of the year, so I hope you are able to take some time for yourself! Have a great week and thanks for reading if you made it this far!

Masterlist

Working Title (Dieter, series, ongoing) | AO3 

Delta Landscaping (Triple Frontier, series, ongoing) | AO3

Turbulence (Frankie, one-shot) | AO3

Are You on Mute? (Benny Miller, one-shot) | AO3

Are You on Mute? Part Two

Are You Alone 

#rhoorl week in review #rhoorl fic rec #pedro pascal characters fic #garrett hedlund

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapter #02

previous | all | next

Continuation of my Trigun annotation for the book club. I'm doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc. (and being gay about the characters <3 always important)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And the rest is under the cut. read my notes boy!!

[link for if the images aren't in horizontal rows]

The second page has an error - 悪夢 was probably misread as 悪魔 ("happen" and "awaken" are also the same kanji). It should be "Then, the nightmare occurred." It's really cool that this still works really well considering...y'know (not saying for the first-time readers ;) )

I just love how that drawing of Vash is so cool and serious...

...and then you turn the page and he's in the most pathetic cunty pussy-out pose you've ever seen. Easily one of my favorite panels. Also made a math question for funsies. sorry to anyone who got high school flashbacks, but I absolutely loved trigonometry lmao. I could do this forever.

A little pun(?) that may or may not be intentional - In Japanese, someone with a bounty on their head is called 賞金首, lit. "bounty neck" ("neck" sometimes signifies the entire head). The locals call out for the bounty-neck right as Vash hurt his neck lol

I love how creepy Vash moves sometimes. absolute cryptid

This is entirely a Japanese-only detail, but I really loved how Vash said バヤイ (bayai) in the sobbing in French line, because my mom also says that instead of 場合 (baai) when she's being silly lmao. Also, it's notable that in Japanese, Vash says フランセ語 ("Francé-go," where "go" is the suffix for languages) which may be either another miles->iles/double-dollar situation, or just him speaking silly like バヤイ.

Also, the line after that would more accurately be "How am I supposed to deal with all these locals?"

Here, the "Really?" is actually Meryl saying something like "I'll give you a hint."

Meryl tends to be the one responsible for the braincell in fanworks but it's important to remember that she absolutely is dumb too (affectionate).

I'm so glad I wrote that reminder about Meryl's speech, but I don't think I'll be able to do it justice here when I have so much more to talk about. I'll have to write another post later, so I'll link it when it's done. The gist is that she talks like a stereotypical high-class anime girl, and the trope is from how a similar demographic in Meiji-era Japan actually spoke.

The boy's pussy faces the world yet again. I love all the faces he makes!! look at him!!!!!!!!!!! he's so cute

The text on the board here was very messy and squished, but it says something like "Vash the Stampede Absolute Capture Task Force Headquarters." Honestly don't know how to fit all that into the board though so uh good luck on that for 2.0... Also dear god Vash has so much energy... He's just been running for 3 hours straight...!!

Fun fact: the equivalent idiom to "fight fire with fire" in Japanese is "use poison on poison."

Love how Nebraska is just like "no we didn't jailbreak, we just let ourselves out :/"

Translation error for Milly and the chairman - Milly is saying "Why do things keep getting worse and worse!?" and the chairman is mumbling "What's the deal with you two..."

Showing some love for his pretty pretty eyes..........(gives him so many smooches in my head)("i can imagine anything" image)(can't add it because i reached the 30 image limit)

The "Freeze!" is actually untranslated, just re-typed to match the surrounding font. Also, that panel is the first time Vash's antennae is shown bent!! It goes back up immediately after that though.

Fun fact #2. Vash says ara ara. if you even care.

This line never fails to hit me hard. They're all desperate mothers and sisters, and they're taking on the bad role because nothing's more important than their dear children. (reminds me of a certain someone...)

I've seen someone mention this before, but Trimax definitely adjusted the number of plants. Fifty!?!? Also, in Japanese, "plants" and "died" were in quotations.

I love the gun pull in the right panel. Vash obviously definitely doesn't intend on shooting, but is rather showing off his skill and resolve as an intimidation tactic to throw the girls off-guard.

God this entire spread is just so RAW.... (here's the post that's mentioned in blue. it just reminded me)

Some more hypes and sillies. The impact that "KISS MY ASS!!" had on my first read was phenomenal!! It's so silly!! and cool!!!

And then there's this!! Another favorite part of mine. Vash's antennae are bent again! They kind of alternate between straight and bent from here.

The green writing about the onomatopoea are more of just a translation note rather than a suggestion. I can't think of any good beckoning noises in English :V

And finally, Milly calls "Mr. Bomb" "Bomb-kun" in Japanese which I think yall would enjoy lol. And happy strangling her saturday tuesday.

The Japanese version of the annotations are in the reblogs, if anyone wants them.

I have Chapter #03 mostly ready, so I'll probably post it tomorrow morning and try to speedrun the rest of the chapters because this is taking longer than I expected!! God there's just so much to say!! (Also gotta remember to write about Meryl's speech!!)

And thank yall so much for the feedback on the Chapters #00-01 post!! I didn't know so many people were interested in such small details!! Love (and peace) yall 🫶🤞

#bing bing bauuuu bam bam bada bam baba bom bom bauuuuuuuuu (wh- wh- wh- wh- what's going on? on?) du du dududu dudu du du dududu d #trigunbookclub #trigun annotation #trigun #trigun manga

[pitviperofdoom]

So uh. About 12 years ago I thought it'd be fun to do Sherlock Holmes set in the Redwall universe. I wrote a bit for it, then lost interest and moved on to other things.

Well, between my Redwall reread and the Letters from Watson substack, I've recently found myself with renewed interest in both Redwall and Holmes stories, so I decided to dust off the ol' Redwall AU. I reread what I had, found it almost entirely unusable, and completely reworked it. And now I have a humble little introduction here!

Don't know if I'll continue this, but I've had a LOT of fun ideas over the last week, so we'll see!

*****

Extract from the personal journal of Lancejack Johnswort Swifteye, formerly of the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol—

The first day of spring has come and gone. The days grow warmer and longer as we leave winter further behind—the Winter of the Sweeping Mists, by Abbey reckoning. By my own reckoning it was the Winter of Abject Misery.

For six seasons I have marched with the Fur and Foot Fighters Border Patrol, that intrepid unit that keeps watch on the region where Mossflower meets the sand dunes by the Western Sea. Most of my comrades were Salamandastron hares, but with the border patrol’s proximity to the forest, they had plenty of use for squirrels like myself. Like many of my kind I am sharp of eye and handy with a bow, and between my childhood of helping in the Abbey Infirmary and my later training under Lieutenant Lagsworth, I had the skills to make myself useful as a healer as well.

It all came to an abrupt and inglorious end last winter, when a Galloper from the Long Patrol came to us warning of a corsair ship that had made landfall not far from our position. Word reached us too late that the ship was in fact a full fleet, and in the resulting battle I found myself cut off from the rest of the patrol during our retreat. I went down with several wounds, not the least of which was a bolt from a searat’s crossbow in my leg, and I would have been killed if Corporal Pennyroyal hadn’t dragged me to safety.

The patrol suffered heavier losses than it should have, with its principal healer gravely wounded. Penny tells me it was touch and go for a while, before reinforcements from Salamandastron arrived, led by Colonel Kordyne himself. In the end I survived, albeit severely weakened and with a newly-acquired limp, my military career indefinitely on hold if not outright over.

Once I was well enough to travel, I was swiftly sent on my way to Redwall by shrew logboat, and had scarcely passed a week in the willing paws of the abbeydwellers when I was struck down with a ferocious fever. The days and weeks that followed were miserable, full of aches and chills and horrendous dreams—and precious little company, as I was kept away from other creatures so as not to spread my illness to the rest of the abbey.

To add insult to injury, I missed the Nameday celebrations entirely, and by the time I had regained enough of an appetite to enjoy the taste of food, every crumb of that glorious feast had been eaten or sent out to the denizens of the surrounding woodlands in need of extra food after the winter.

It is strange to find myself walking Redwall’s venerable halls once more. I was quite young when I left, creeping out in the cover of night so as not to alert the elders to my departure. Back then I dreamed of returning in glorious triumph, and here I am now, scrawny and scarred and hobbling about with a cane on days when my leg gives me trouble. I keep busy how I can, usually helping Brother Stonecrop in the Infirmary, but more often than not I find myself passing days in a fog. I miss my comrades, the smell of the wind off the distant sea, the feeling of good bark beneath my claws. Embarrassment about my situation has made me a recluse. Stonecrop and I were friends as Dibbuns, and he is still good company, but in spite of his best efforts, in spite of the many good creatures who make their home in Redwall, I cannot recall ever feeling so terribly lonely.

****

The sound of pawsteps on the stone floor reached John’s ears. Briefly he considered snuffing out the candle and waiting silently for whoever it was to leave, but the thought felt unbearably childish. With a sigh, he set down his quill and blew gently on the still-wet ink.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” Brother Stonecrop poked his head around the cask. “By the fur, how can you stand being down here so long on the cold stone?”

“It’s quiet,” John replied. “And before you ask, my leg feels fine. How’d you find me?”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy.” The stout mouse eased between the barrels and sat down with him, fidgeting until he’d smoothed out his habit. “I checked the infirmary and the top of the belltower first, and then I remembered Pinn saying she’d seen you creeping down here the other day.”

“I really thought I’d given her the slip,” John muttered, before a cloth-wrapped bundle was thrust into his inkstained paws. “Stonecrop, what—”

“You missed lunch again,” Stonecrop informed him. “I managed to rescue some cheese and nutbread and a scone before the young ones scoffed the lot. There’s a beaker of dandelion cordial as well. Get your jaws around that, see if it puts you in a better mood.”

“My mood is perfectly fine,” John protested. As if on cue, his traitorous stomach growled.

“Says the daft beast as he broods in the dark, scribbling out his thoughts by candlelight.”

“Alright, alright.” John bit into the scone and almost groaned. “Hell’s teeth, that’s good. How is it still warm?”

“Alright, so I didn’t actually snatch it from the jaws of a ravenous mousebabe,” Stonecrop admitted. “I stopped by the kitchens for a fresh one. I thought if you were making yourself this hard to find, it was a scone-straight-from-the-ovens sort of day.”

In spite of himself, John couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Stonecrop.”

Stonecrop clapped him on the back. “Think nothing of it, old Swifteye. Somebeast has to make sure you don’t waste away to nothing.”

“I’m nowhere near old.”

“Is that a fact? I could hardly tell, when you’ve got a face on you like a decrepit frog more often than not.” Stonecrop’s tone, light as it was, betrayed his worry. “You know it wouldn’t hurt to attend a meal every now and then. It’d be good for you to have some company once in a while.”

“I know, I know, it just…” John sipped from the beaker to buy himself time to think. “It gets a bit loud, especially with how voices echo in this place. And the last time I was somewhere loud, it wasn’t one of my good days.”

Stonecrop frowned. “I would think Dibbuns shrieking at dinnertime was a far cry from a battlefield.”

“You would think.”

“Well…” John could almost hear Stonecrop’s thoughts whirring as he hunted for a solution. “Would it help to get out of the abbey for a bit? You’ve hardly left since you got here—obviously you couldn’t with the fever, but you’re hale and healthy now, besides the leg. A bit of fresh air never harmed anybeast. Matter of fact, I’ve been doing some spring cleaning in the infirmary, and some of my herb stores need to be restocked.”

“It… would be nice to walk among proper trees again,” John admitted. “Though with my luck, I’d go out for a leisurely stroll and run straight into a robber gang.”

“Good thing you’re in an abbey full to the brim with willing, helpful beasts,” Stonecrop pointed out. “Why don’t I send you and somebeast else out on a little herb-gathering mission for me?”

“I’m not some restless young one you need to keep busy,” John told him, finishing up the last of the cheese.

“No, you’re a restless fully grown squirrel who needs to keep busy before he crawls out of his own fur,” Stonecrop said dryly.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” John sighed. “You’re right. I’ve just been… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Lonely?”

“I don’t know if it’s that,” John flicked away the last few crumbs of nutbread. “But it feels the same whether I’m hiding down here or standing in the middle of a crowded Cavern Hole, so I may as well feel it without forcing my awful moods on somebeast else.”

Stonecrop placed a paw on his shoulder. “That’s no good and you know it, John. Starving the body won’t cure it of sickness, and starving the spirit won’t cure it of sadness, either.”

“I’m not sad, I’m just… I’m not exactly what anybeast would consider good company.”

Stonecrop took long enough to reply for John to finish the rest of his meal. When he glanced over again, he found the mouse looking at him thoughtfully.

“What?”

“It’s funny, I was just thinking… you’re not the first creature to say that to me in the last few days,” Stonecrop said, stroking his whiskers.

“So there’s another unsociable hermit in the abbey? I’m shocked we haven’t run into each other in the same hidden-away nook.”

“You’d be surprised,” Stonecrop chuckled. “But no, he’s been away from the abbey for most of the winter and just returned this past week. Bit of an odd one, but clever as anything. Knows the woods like the back of his paw, too. It was actually him I asked first about herbs, and he was all for helping until somebeast else came along with a more interesting problem for him to solve.”

“Not very courteous of him.”

“Oh, that’s just how he is,” Stonecrop said with a shrug. “But either way my stores need replenishing, and I’ve been busy with cleaning and early springtime sniffles. Would you be willing to lend me a paw?”

John sighed, trying not to smile and failing. “Well, when you put it like that, I’d be a real puddenhead to say no, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s the spirit!” Stonecrop heaved himself to his footpaws before reaching down to pull John up alongside him. “Come along then, let’s get you back out into the sunlight. Meet me in the infirmary and we can go over the list—I’ll go let Hemlock know I won’t be needing him after all.”

“Actually…” For a moment, John teetered on the edge of indecision, before he steeled himself and swallowed his ever-present doubts. “I think I’ll come along with you. You’ve got me curious about this Hemlock fellow.”

Stonecrop’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

“I rarely hear a cross word from you about anybeast,” John pointed out. “So if he’s odd enough for even you to remark upon it…”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Stonecrop chuckled, a bit nervously. “Just try to keep an open mind.”

Curiosity piqued, John followed him out of the cellar, through the Great Hall and out onto the abbey lawns. From the looks of it, most creatures had taken advantage of the warming weather to have lunch outside. The food was cleared away, but rumpled blankets still lay strewn across the grass, and sticky-pawed Dibbuns dashed about playing while their elders cleared away dishes and napkins.

The gatehouse door stood ajar when they reached it, and Stonecrop knocked twice before pushing it fully open and stepping inside. “Are you in there, Hemlock?”

There was no reply, but the sound of pages turning told them that somebeast was inside, at least. The gatehouse was a cluttered mess, and the sounds of life came from somewhere behind the stacks of old tomes and loose parchment that covered the desk.

Before Stonecrop could call out again, the unseen creature gave a great “Ha!” before slamming a book shut and nearly knocking the chair over in a mad scurry for the door.

Behind Stonecrop, John froze, and his mouth dropped open.

There was a ferret in the gatehouse—better fed and groomed than others of his kind that John had encountered, but a ferret nonetheless. From head to toe his brown fur was so dark it was nearly black, with flashes of white over his muzzle and ears, and a thin layer of dust over all.

“Solved it!” he crowed triumphantly, waving a slip of parchment. “Terribly sorry for the wait, Stonecrop, Myrtus presented me with a puzzle the other day and it couldn’t wait.”

“Sounds like it was a real poser,” Stonecrop said.

“A decent diversion. How close is it to noon?”

“About two hours past,” Stonecrop replied.

The ferret beamed. “Excellent timing! This is the best part—come, this way, you’ll both enjoy this.”

Without waiting for a reply, the ferret seized them both by their sleeves and pulled them out of the gatehouse, then released them and took off for the orchards at a quick lope.

John was left staring after him, mouth still hanging open. Wordlessly he turned to Stonecrop.

“I did say he was odd and to keep an open mind,” Stonecrop sighed. “We’d better see what he’s found.”

They caught up to the ferret at the wall nearest the orchard, walking quickly along its length and tapping each sandstone block as he went. “Well, what is it, Hemlock?” Stonecrop asked.

“Twelve, thirteen—hush, I’m counting—fourteen, fifteen…” The ferret carried on until he reached the middle of the wall, then turned his back was to it and began counting his steps. Before long they were within the shade of the orchard, and the ferret had halted at a damson tree and was squinting at something on the ground. With a noise of sudden understanding he darted along its shadow until he reached its end, counted several more steps, and stopped at an apple tree.

“Here it is!” The ferret inspected the tree trunk, then stared up into its branches, before turning and locking eyes with John. “The smallest favor, if you don’t mind—could you climb up there and see if you can find this?” He passed the slip of parchment to John. Scribbled on it was the symbol of a flower with star-shaped leaves.

Luckily today was a good day, and his leg didn’t pain him beyond a bit of stiffness. With one last baffled look at Stonecrop, John scaled the tree with ease. This early in spring, the boughs were mostly bare of leaves, and it took him several minutes to find the symbol. It wasn’t carved into the tree itself, but engraved on a small bronze disk embedded in one of the branches.

“Found it!” he called down.

“Which side of the tree?” the ferret asked.

“South!”

“Thank you!”

John climbed down to find the ferret down on all fours at the roots on the south side, digging furiously into the soil with both paws.

“Would you like me to find Foremole?” Stonecrop asked.

“No, I’ve got it!”

Soil flew into a growing pile behind him; the ferret dug with single-minded determination until his head was fully out of sight. Minutes passed before John heard a thud and curse, and the ferret’s dirt-covered face poked back into view.

“It’ll just be a moment more, I’ve just hit it,” he said, before diving back down with renewed energy.

“Just hit what?” John mouthed to Stonecrop, who shrugged helplessly at him and crouched down for a better look.

Eventually the ferret rose again with a grunt of effort, and lifted out an old, dirt-caked chest secured with a rusted lock. The ferret dove down again, produced a sizable rock from the hole he’d just dug, and smashed it off. Then he lifted the lid, peered inside, and gave a bark of triumphant laughter.

“Well?” Stonecrop spoke up. “Don’t keep us in suspense, what have you found?”

“No gold or jewels, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the ferret replied. “These are the journals of Brother Mallowgreen, during the reign of Abbot Kastel. There’s a bit of a gap in the abbey’s history during that time, thanks to the abbot’s rather unfortunate penchant for destroying records he didn’t like. Luckily, the Infirmary keeper at the time had the presence of mind to hide his own scribblings, and was kind enough to leave behind a few riddles leading to their location.” He lifted himself out of the hole and dusted off his paws, gray eyes alight with satisfaction. “And I do love a good riddle.”

“And you took all of two and a half days to solve it,” Stonecrop remarked.

“As I said, a decent diversion.” The ferret’s eyes settled on John again. “Hello.”

“Ah, right—Hemlock, this is John Swifteye, an old friend of mine. John, this is Hemlock, who I told you about.”

“Pleasure.” Hemlock’s pawshake was firm but not so tight as to be painful. “I didn’t know Stonecrop’s friendships extended as far as the Fur and Foot Fighters of the western dunes.”

“I, er, haven’t been back here in some time,” John stammered out, caught off guard.

“Do your herbs still need restocking, by the way?” Hemlock asked Stonecrop. “I know it’s been a few days.”

“You know, I was just coming to let you know that I’d found somebeast else for the task,” Stonecrop replied. “But it looks like you’re free again.”

“It might be a two-beast job, given the state of your stores when I last saw them,” Hemlock pointed out, with a glance at John. “I wouldn’t mind the extra paws, especially if it means having an archer along. Never mind being out of practice—any ne’er do wells we find in the woods today will most likely flee at a warning shot.”

“Um,” said John.

“If you’re not averse to my company, of course,” Hemlock added with a smile.

“I—not at all,” John answered without thinking. “If you don’t mind slowing up for a squirrel with a limp.”

“Well then.” Hemlock scooped up the chest and tucked it under one arm. “I’ll go run this little find up to the attic, and then I’ve got to nip down to the kitchens for something. See you at the east wallgate, Swifteye.” With that, he was gone.

John waited until Hemlock was well out of earshot before jabbing his paw into Stonecrop’s ribs. “Out with it, Stonecrop, how many others have you gossiped to about me?”

“I didn’t!” Stonecrop was grinning. “On my honor, I never breathed a word about you, to him or anybeast else. I told you he’s clever.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” John asked.

Stonecrop slung a friendly paw around his shoulders and began leading him back to the abbey building. “Only one way to find out.”

They had only just reached the lawn when, behind them, the deep voice of Brother Bramlen the gardener rang out from beneath the trees.

“WHO IN THE NAME O’ SPIKES HAS BEEN DIGGIN’ UP ME TREES?” the hedgehog bellowed. “HEMLOCK!”

Squirrel and mouse beat a hasty retreat, laughing like misbehaving young ones.

****

True to his word, Hemlock was waiting by the east wallgate when John made his way down. The ferret was cloaked warmly for the lingering winter’s chill, and carried an empty basket with one paw and, oddly enough, what seemed to be a fully-packed haversack on his shoulders. John had a basket of his own, and had armed himself with bow, quiver, and a stout walking stick.

“Planning on spending the night, are you?” John asked, glancing at the pack.

“No,” Hemlock replied, and unbolted the gate. “After you.”

The sun was out, with more blue in the sky than gray. In spite of the warmth of sunlight, the air was still cold, even more so without the high abbey walls to block the wind. John’s injured leg gave a twinge, forcing him to lean on the stick a little more heavily than he would have liked.

Hemlock had taken the lead without a word, which was fair enough. Before he’d come limping to the abbey under the guidance of the Guosim, John hadn’t been this deep into Mossflower Wood since his nighttime escape as a wayward young one. Besides, if he wasn’t focused on pathfinding, it gave him a chance to size up his strange companion.

It wasn’t unheard of for vermin to live their lives in peace and quiet contentment. John had known of a few to the west—a weasel couple that farmed and fished in the woods, a solitary old rat that lived out in the dunes—and the patrol kept an eye out but otherwise left them alone. But that didn’t change the fact that, by and large, the vast majority that John had encountered had been… well. Roving bandits, robber gangs. Corsair fleets.

John glanced back at the sandstone wall looming over the tree tops, then again at Hemlock. Redwall’s charter had something or other about extending paws in peace and friendship, but that didn’t change the long history of vermin hordes showing up to try and conquer the place.

“Rest assured, that is not my intention,” Hemlock said dryly.

Startled, John nearly tripped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was only a little older than a kit when I first came to Redwall,” Hemlock went on, picking his way carefully through a tangle of roots. “Rather a long time for a plot to simmer, wouldn’t you agree?”

John slowed, leaning heavily on his stick as he followed. “I didn’t—how did you—?”

“Your stare has been burning holes in the back of my head since we left,” Hemlock replied. At least he didn’t sound particularly offended. “And just now you looked back at the abbey as if to make sure it was still there, then very pointedly looked at all the spots on my person that might conceal weapons. It wasn’t difficult to follow your train of thought.”

“...Oh.” Sheepishly, John lapsed into silence.

Eventually Hemlock led the way to a patch of vervain, and John descended upon it. The plants were strong and healthy in spite of the recent winter, and before long the bottom of his basket was lined with it.

“I found feverfew not far from here, last time I passed through,” Hemlock spoke up suddenly. “Hopefully it’ll still be there—not much snow, this past winter, so it won’t have frozen.”

John pulled himself back up on his stick. His leg was beginning to ache, just slightly, but he could still walk a bit more. “Lead on.”

They found it near a massive fallen beech log, growing green and full out of the loam, though it was still too early in the season for flowers. Still, Stonecrop could do a lot with stems and leaves alone. When John was finished harvesting them, he found Hemlock sitting on the log waiting for him.

“Might as well sit for a bit,” the ferret said. “Rest that leg.”

“Oh. Er, thank you.” John leaned his stick against the log and climbed up to sit—not beside him, but near enough.

Truthfully, he was grateful. He hadn’t had much in the way of exercise recently, between injuries, fever, and moping. He could feel himself getting winded and tired more quickly than he ever had before. A long walk through the woods without rest was likely to make his leg worse.

Hemlock must have known. He certainly wasn’t resting for his own benefit.

“Can I ask you something?” John asked eventually.

“You may.”

“Stonecrop said he didn’t tell you about me,” said John. “Did somebeast else tell you who I was, or…?”

Hemlock’s gray eyes flitted up and down, taking in the whole of him again. “I hadn’t heard of you before Stonecrop introduced us.”

“Then how did you know I’m—I was one of the Fur and Foot Fighters?”

“Oh, a number of things,” Hemlock replied. “I looked at you and thought, here is a creature who carries himself like a trained soldier, with his best seasons before him but covered in scars old and new, with a freshly maimed leg and a recent bout of illness, in the middle of a vast forest that hasn’t seen much trouble from hordes and bandits in quite some time. The military bearing suggests the Long Patrol, but it’s extremely rare to see anybeast but a hare among them. And if you were in the Long Patrol, you would’ve rested from your hardships in Salamandastron. Then I remembered hearing of the recent visit from the Guosim, and that answered that. You came from the border between forest and sand, and your comrades saw fit to put you on a boat for home rather than send you on a long march over the dunes.” He paused. “The archery was easy enough—calluses on your paws and a thin patch on your inner arm where the bowstring wears at your fur when you fire.”

John gaped at him.

“It sounds complicated when I lay it all out, but it’s really not,” Hemlock finished. “Two and two make four.”

“And you know Redwall is ��home’ for me because…?”

“The accent, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He hadn’t even known he had an accent.

“How’s the leg?” Hemlock asked.

John tested it, then carefully slid down to the ground. The ache was nearly gone. “Better, thank you.”

“Let’s be off, then. The infirmary’s stores don’t have a single stem of marigold left.”

Before they left, Hemlock shrugged the haversack from his shoulders and set it on the log. John watched him curiously as he wedged it in the fork of the roots so that it wouldn’t slide off.

“What are you doing?”

“Paying for services rendered,” Hemlock replied, leaving the pack where it sat. “Let’s be off.”

The ferret offered no further explanation. Something told John it would be useless to press.

****

“So what do you think of him?” Stonecrop asked later that evening, as they reorganized the herb stores.

“You were right,” John replied. “He’s an odd one and no mistake. Monstrously clever, though.”

“Oh, that he is.”

“He left a full haversack out in the woods,” John added, glancing at his friend. “Any idea what that’s about?”

“Ah, that.” Stonecrop grinned. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll find out soon enough.”

#redwall #sherlock holmes #fanfiction #tales from the pit

[noisyquokka]

GIRL!! I just read your Lino fic and 🧎🏻‍♀️

I see your rqs are about to close so I was hoping maybe you could do a little sumthn sumthn angsty for my boy YangYang? I'd prefer F!reader and sumthn like you broke up and get kinda really jealous seeing him at a party with some girl and maybe you get back together maybe ya don't I'll leave that up to your creative mind? Could you also add Renjun and Xiaojun in as well, like a friend group type thing? I know this is a lot and maybe too detailed but like I NEED more angst from you plz and thank you 😩

Take care and stay hydrated 🤍

Scorched Auroras

PAIRING - YangYang x F!Reader (ft. Renjun & Xiaojun)

SYNOPSIS - You've had your regrets over the years, it's a part of the human experience. But nothing will ever compare to the pain of Him walking out of your life.

WORDCOUNT - 4.4k

WARNINGS - All around Angst, Cheating, Lies, Descriptions of Anxiety Attack, Heated Arguments, Exes to ???, Mentions of Alcohol, Reader wears feminine clothes (dress, heels, etc.), Renjun's kind of a dick in this... he's just trying to help, YangYang is also a dick but it's well-deserved || Let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N - The way I've been wanting to write more angst after that Minho fic, but I've just not gotten around to it... 😔 Thanks for the request, Darling! ngl I spent more time rereading this than I did writing this to the point that I have no idea if this is as good as I originally thought it was, (we love inconvenient writers block) so feedback would be greatly appreciated. And to all you YangYang girlies 👋🏻 I'm sorry for this.

“Huang Renjun, when I find your sorry ass…”

Your heels reverberate against the floors of the house, quick and staccato as you seek out the host of the party. This was supposed to be a chill little get together with mutual friends; all put together by Renjun. Same people. Same place. But when you walked through the front door, you’d been paralyzed.

Through the hall - between the mass of bodies that danced and conversed with each other - you had spotted Liu YangYang sitting pretty on the leather sofa, strumming away on his six-string. His eyes had found yours, and that genuine smile on his face had faded, his brows knitting as he blinked and looked away. He was surrounded by mutual friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the group of girls that sat like a pride of lions around him.

Funny enough, looking around the house… this party? Not so little or so mutual. In fact, you’re almost certain there’s friends of friends here, migrating up the stairs that you’ve just traversed. And the majority of them have been gathered around your ex-boyfriend for the past hour like he was the main entertainment of the evening.

So here you are, with a handful of drinks in you and your patience dwindling. You huff, sparing glances through open doors and knocking on others down the hall until you’re finally directed to Renjun’s bedroom by a random party-goer.

“Renjun!” your knuckles rap on the door, calling over the back beat of the blaring music. “I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”

When there’s no answer, you grunt and knock louder. There’s no doubt he can hear you, your fist aching with every hit to the wood grain. The door opens, a very buzzed Renjun appearing before you.

“Fuck, where’s the fire!?”

You shoot him a glare, leaning against the door frame.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. It’s now that you notice the wrinkles in his clothes, his dark hair an unruly mess that he attempts to fix by carding his fingers through the tresses. The smear of red at the corner of his mouth has you narrowing your eyes. You scoff.

“Yeah… busy.”

Renjun stumbles, your hand darting out to snatch at the collar of his white tee. His protests fall on deaf ears as you pull him down the hall towards his makeshift studio. He knows he’s not going anywhere, even as he attempts to wretch your fingers from the fabric.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” The heavy bass drums steady in your chest as you yank Renjun into the room. The moment your past the threshold, you let him go, slamming the door behind you.

“Hey, easy!”

“You lied to me.”

Renjun lets loose an exasperated chuckle, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt.

“I wish I knew what you were talking about.” he says, raising his brow. There’s a ghost of amusement playing on his face. He knows. It only fuels your aggravation.

“Oh, YangYang won’t be there, I promise.” You mock the words he’d told you over a FaceTime call just a few days ago. Renjun meets your glare evenly, seemingly unimpressed. He rolls his eyes when you cross your arms.

“I didn’t know he’d come. He told me he had something planned tonight.”

“Right, fucking fat chance that he’s sitting right where I’d catch him cozied up around a bonfire of girls.”

“The perfect place to play a guitar.” he quips. Your eyes narrow, following his movements as he turns toward the random clutter in the studio.

“You know how much I hate this version of Renjun.”

“Which one?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. He stops at his desk, rearranging strewn journals and crumpled pages that have nearly landed in the bin beside the workspace.

“The one that plays dumb just to get out of answering me.”

“I do not-”

“You do!” you bite, feet situating themselves under your weight. You level the brunette with a pointed look.

“You’re holding out on me, I can tell. So, are you gonna spill or what?”

You watch the cogs turn behind his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his brow, clearly frustrated with the way this conversation is going. Brown eyes shift from the far wall, dropping the journals on the desk. He turns to you, a look crossing his face that you can’t pinpoint.

“I already told you, I had no idea he was gonna be here, okay? I asked him if he was coming and he said no.” Renjun glances to your form and the way you’re seemingly guarding the door like a well-trained hound. “I didn’t openly invite him. He showed up on his own. Any reason you’re so pissed about that?”

The question catches you off guard. Any reason you’re so pissed about that? What, with the way things ended, you certainly have no right to be. Ignoring the stabbing in your chest, you lick your lips, nails digging into your forearm. He catches the way you shift, spine straightening against the wall.

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, voice clipped.

“A valid one.” Renjun replies, leaning against his desk. There’s that casual air that he exudes as his eyes rake down your body. Observing. Your choice in outfit; that little black dress, the time you put into your hair and makeup, those stilettos. Renjun knows you don’t put that amount of time into going out unless it means something.

He clicks his tongue, blinks. Bourbon swirls with some kind of intent.

“You’re the one who broke up with him, remember? Although I’ve gotta say, if looks could kill, those girls fawning over him would be dead at his feet.”

“Watch your words, Huang.” you warn, a sharpness to your tone that leaves the guy unbothered.

“I haven’t said a thing… it’s called observing.” His voice is cool as ice, arms coming to cross over his chest.

“You’re implying.”

He laughs, snake eyes pinning him where he stands.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“You want facts?” You close the distance between you and Renjun so quickly, he doesn’t have time to react before you’re right in his face, “You know exactly what the hell you did. You knew how much I didn’t want him here, it’s why I asked you when you invited me. You made a promise that you blew to the wind.”

Your voice is calm but tight - like a rubber band pulled to its limits. You can’t bring yourself to care about how you come across at this point. Not when there’s seven vodka shots warming your veins, clouding all rationality. Your patience is gone as you glare up at the man, watching as a dark brow twitches behind stray tresses. You’re done playing his stupid little game.

The tink of plastic against metal hits your ears as Renjun swipes a broken guitar pick off the desk into the trash bin, eyes deadlocked on the sneer that’s prying at your lips. For a second, he mulls over his actions that led up to this point. Perhaps he’s being a bit of an ass, but you’ve put off talking things out with YangYang for months. He's felt the strain it's put on the group dynamic, and he’s sick of hearing you both say everything is fine. How can two people be fine when they can’t tolerate being in the same room together? And now you come to him like he’s done you wrong, like what he’s done is unforgivable… Renjun doesn’t get it.

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Renjun, you in here? Some jackass is-”

The door opens, Xiaojun stopping short at the sight before him. The tense charge in the room hits him like a tidal wave, and the scowl that etches your face doesn’t give him much room to speculate.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” he says, looking between you two. Renjun scratches at his neck, clearing his throat.

“What is it, man?”

“There’s some guy starting shit by the pool. Thought it’d be a job for the host.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Xiaojun nods, giving you both one last fleeting glance before the door closes. When the footsteps fade into nothing but reverberating bass, Renjun slips out of the space between you and the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of damage control, as you just heard.” He turns toward the door with a finality that says this conversation is well over. If you weren’t buzzing, were in your right state of mind, you would have let him go. But the addition of alcohol only egged on your unbridled emotions.

“No, we’re not done talking.” You hiss, a hand darting out to catch his wrist. Renjun groans, and you hear your name slip off his tongue like a bad omen as he aggressively shrugs you off him.

“Stop! Just-” He turns his back to the door, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You look on with wide eyes as he takes a deep breath, brows twitching. “You both said that you broke up because things weren’t working out. Something about schedules and other conflicting shit…”

He shakes his head, optics flickering over your face, searching for some sort of answer as to why you're reacting this way. When your shoulders sag, he knows enough. You’re closing off, and as much as Renjun wants to be the friend that mothers you back to good spirits with a gentle hand, it seems that isn’t gonna work. The way you approached this tonight has him clutching at his last straw.

“It’s not my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not your business-”

“But you decided to make it my business when you pulled me in here and fucking interrogated me! That alone tells me there’s more to the story than you two have let on.” You press you lips together, optics locking onto the far wall. You hear the steady release of a sigh, the rattling of the door knob under his palm. “You’ve been friends for years. You never let the simple things interfere back then.”

“Romantic relationships are different, Renjun.” You don’t need to meet those eyes to know he’s unconvinced.

“You’re impossible…” He mutters. The floorboards groan under his feet as he turns back toward the door, shoulders tight under the fabric of his shirt.

“This conversation is going nowhere. I don’t know why you dragged me in here and grilled me about the one person you don’t want to talk about, but I have a party to host.” His fingers grip the door knob and twist, amber eyes meeting yours over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but you need to talk to him. Before the fallout ruins this friend group.”

The door slams shut, and you blink as Renjun’s heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His words sink in. He’s right. You sag against the wall, letting your head fall against the drywall, trying to process everything that just happened. Releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as the liquor takes another round through your hazy mind. The threat of tears infect your vision, burning even as you attempt to blink them away.

“Fuck.” you hiss, fingers coming to press against the junction of your nose bridge and the corners of your eyes until the pressure conjures rainbow static behind your lids. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You’re ready to leave. Ready to leave this party, block phone numbers and move out of the country if it means you don’t have to face the one person you regret hurting. Selfish, really, but in your current state of mind, it sounds like heaven. You’ve let this situation hang over your head for the past eight months, praying it would go away on it’s own. It’s obvious no God will let you off that easily.

God damn…

Your feet are moving before you can think any further, the studio door left ajar as your figure strides down the hall and descends the stairs. You need a glass of water to clear your head, something to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen. Optics dart to the sofa, where YangYang has been most of the evening, but he’s no longer there. The guitar leans against the wall, propped up with the help of the sofa's armrest. You bee-line for the kitchen.

The main space between the living room and kitchen has significantly dwindled to a small group of people, and you remember what Xiaojun had said about the shit starter by the pool. A simple glance to the back patio tells you that’s where everyone has gone. Empty cups and snack trays are left behind, alongside a few couples making out in the corner, and the few people conversing near the kitchen island, including Xiaojun. He greets you with a soft smile, offering you another drink that you graciously decline.

“You good?” he asks, smile fading into furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I think I’m over the alcohol for tonight.” you mutter, taking an chilled water bottle from the cooler. “Do you know where YangYang ran off to?”

“Last I saw him, he looked like he was leaving for the night.” he replies, taking another swig of his beverage. You blink, cracking the cap on the bottle and bringing it to your lips in one swift motion. Despite the amount of alcohol you’ve had in such a short amount of time, the water you take down washes away your brain fog, and you turn toward the front door with a newfound clarity.

YangYang isn’t gone. You know him well enough. And you’re ready to face him. You have to be. Because you aren’t leaving here until you set things right.

You pat Xiaojun on the shoulder as you leave, a quiet thanks uttered as you force yourself to move toward the exit, fingers latching on the handle.

The cool night air washes over your skin, but you welcome the instantaneous sobering up it provides. It’s quiet out here, as quiet as a house party can get for the chatter and music, crickets chirping in the protection of well-manicured shrubs. With a quick scan of your surroundings, you find who you’re looking for.

Liu YangYang stands at the far corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with his back to you. He’d be unnoticeable by most people, shrouded in October shadows.

You’re not most people.

It’s as if the world falls still in the time it takes you to walk over, your stomach swirling like a blender on full power. He’s by himself out here. That makes it easier, right? You let out a shaky breath, the sudden urge to bolt over the railing and disappear into the woods like a spooked fawn flooding your veins. But you don’t. You can’t.

“We need to talk.” you pipe up, clearing your throat in an attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. Black hair falls into brown eyes, a grunt of your name passing his lips at the sound of your voice. You never want to hear him say your name like that again. Like you're the scum of the earth.

“Heard you were pretty pissed about my being here.” he says. Even under his sweater, you can see how taught his back muscles are, how he's trying to hold himself back. Your eyes slip shut.

Renjun… He must have caught up with YangYang before you could make it downstairs. You let the curses slip to the back of your mind, focusing on the matter at hand. You know this doesn’t have to be hard. Just a short, civil conversation between you and your ex. With a lick of your lips, you try again.

“YangYang, I’m-”

“You know, it’s really fucking insulting to hear that.” He brings the half-full solo cup in his hand to his lips, taking the rest of his drink down in one go. Dark optics stare blankly toward the dimly lit street. “Especially when you’ve avoided me for the past eight months. When no one else knows the truth about you.”

You swallow hard at his comment, staring at the foot that he can't stop tapping against the porch.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, YangYang.” you say, taking a step toward him, “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you.”

You hear the huff of a scoff, and he turns just enough to lock eyes with you from over his shoulder, pupils digging into you from the corners.

“Better eight months late than never.”

“YangYang-”

“What?” he interjects, snapping like a cornered fox, “Too busy with them to come to me sooner with your bullshit excuses?”

YangYang doesn’t need to face you to get his emotions across. You’ve never had trouble deciphering whether he was emotionally six feet under or floating on cloud nine. But now, you feel like you’re Gaia up against the raw power of Helios; a violent storm of solar particles slamming against you in his attempts to protect his heart from freezing over.

The auroras of scorched and unspoken truths. Your magnetic field is battered and bruised too significantly to sustain such a blow.

That’s on you, you know. You’d come to the realization eight months ago when you took that sledgehammer to a decade of friendship. A decade of trust that transformed into so much more. An angel of a boy that you threw away - tore his wings from his back for good measure.

You shake your head, that fire burning behind your eyes.

“You’re not being fair, here.” You whisper, and as much as you don’t want this conversation to escalate, you know there’s no stopping it. You flinch when he whips around, wild eyes boring into yours, a snarl threatening to break the crease of his lips. He points a finger at you.

“You cheated, Love! You!” The term of endearment is anything but; poison on the tongue that used to serenade you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He is the ferocity of a rabid dog in the form of gnashing teeth and beady eyes, panting and growling in warning when you try to console it.

“Two years together! Thirteen years of friendship and trust that you so easily struck a match to like that?! Fucking treated me like I was an afterthought in your daily schedule while we were still together! The nights you came home and lied through your teeth, telling me you were working late… that you were out with friends… Fuck, I even felt you pulling away and I still tried telling myself that I was crazy. No, no, you wouldn’t do that to me. We’ve been through so much together. Fucking fool, I am!”

You watch him through the glaze of tears as he stalks toward you. The hurt in his eyes burns like a serrated knife, slicing away at the worn and ruptured threads of your relationship that scream with every threat of the blade.

“So, no, you don't get to tell me I'm being unfair! I saw the way you watched me tonight. You probably don't realize how many drinks you had because you were too busy raising your hackles at the girls that I was talking to. Ran off to light a fire under Renjun's ass because things didn't go your way.”

Your heart pounds against your breast, your pulse violent in your fingertips. In your head, this conversation played out with less hostility. You expected some anger - it’s only fair with the pain you put him through - but this was another level entirely. In all your years of knowing YangYang, he’d never blown up like this.

Never at you.

Never because of you.

This isn’t the boy that you would race to school every morning, who dried your tears and rubbed the rocks from your knees when you tripped yourself. The one who would send you dumb memes in the middle of class, and took accountability so you weren't sitting in detention alone. Who bought you a promise ring for your ten years of being friends, and another when you celebrated two years of dating.

Your rock in the toughest situations and you threw him into the ocean with little thought. Didn't even watch as he sank to the depths.

You blink, feeling the tears track down you cheeks as you speak.

“I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I should’ve talked to you about this months ago. I’ve…” You hesitate, “I’ve been think about that night a lot.”

“Good.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“It was a mistake, and I can’t even give you a good reason for it.” you whimper, breath catching in your throat, “I’m so sorry, YangYang. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. I never should’ve-”

Words fail you, your composure breaking with a burst of tears that hits so suddenly, it's impossible to breathe. You hug yourself with trembling arms, nails digging into your palms.

“I don’t want this to be it for us,” you say, your words strangled as you try to wrangle in your tears, “there has to be a way to fix this!”

He’s close enough to touch, and you reach out with little thought, pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his torso. Your fingers grip into the back of his sweater as you sob into his shoulder, your body shaking with every strangled hiccup.

YangYang doesn’t move, doesn't push you off. He just stands here. There’s no warm embrace enveloping your frame, no tears to share with you. It’s like you’re hugging a stone statue, the body heat that he exudes being some sort of sick joke when all you feel is the chill of a vacant shell.

“Please, tell me what I can do to fix it!” The plea hangs over you like a specter, ghastly fingers wrapping tight around your throat. The silence grows long, nothing more than faint strains of music drifting through the cracks of the windows and doors of the house, carrying some hint of life beyond the two of you. You almost wish he’d begin to yell again, growl about the extent of which you’ve hurt him. Anything but this indifference, this apathy towards the one girl he’s given everything to. But this… this feels like him finally giving up. Like he’s finally decided that you aren’t worth the trouble anymore. You don’t want to accept it, but every second that ticks by is like another nail in the coffin.

You pull away, fingers twitching as they come up to cradle his jaw. The muscles under the flesh tenses, and he recoils from your touch like it’s physically hurting him, looking off across the street with a hollow gaze. It’s a tortuously long moment before he levels you with those brown eyes. They’re dull when they look at you now; worlds away. A fresh grave, its soil rejecting any and all growth, no flowers, no grass. Seeds greedily plucked from the ground by songbirds and rodents. No one to care for the plot when the soul’s story is made up of little white lies. He watches from the corner of his eye as the tears collect on mascara-laden lashes, the makeup mixing with the liquid as it trickles down and off your chin.

“I don’t want it to be over either,” he admits. A stray tear falls from his lash line, but there’s a void of emotion in his tone. “But…”

There’s that pause again, and you can’t handle it this time. The knot in your chest tightens like a vice, brows pulling inward when he goes to take a step backward. You shake your head, his name sputtering from your lips like it’s the only thing that could offer a modicum of comfort.

“I love you, YangYang,” you say the words quickly, desperately, clinging to his arms as he spares you nothing more than a glance. “I still do, please, please don’t- don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

“That’s the same dress.”

You look up with wide eyes, jaw slack as you sniffle.

“What?”

“You wore that dress the night you came home drunk with them.” he says.

You glance down at the fabric hugging your figure, the memories from that night coming back to you in what little fragments you can remember. Clinging to their shirt as you both laughed between kisses, the clumsy fumble of your key in the lock. You had woke up to them in your bed, a raging hangover, and your boyfriend sitting on the couch in silence when you went searching for a glass of water and an Aspirin. You don't remember doing anything more than kissing, but cheating was cheating. And YangYang had been livid.

He shakes his head, laughs incredulously. “You’re insane. You're dead to me.”

“YangYang, I-” is all you can get out before he’s pulling away again, shoving you off him with enough force to send you staggering to your knees. For a moment you sit there in a stunned stupor, your hands splayed over the wood grain of the porch, gasping for breath as you openly sob. Composing yourself at this point is impossible, anxiety clutching at your lungs like a serpent’s stranglehold. Your legs tremble, eyes burning with unspent tears. He hasn’t walked away yet, and for a moment you think maybe there’s some semblance of salvaging this until-

“Don’t come crawling back to me when they put you through the same shit you put me through. Fucking cry yourself to sleep.”

It’s the last thing he says, storming off as he passes your heaving frame with little more than a glance. Down the front steps. Down the path to the side walk. It’s over. You choke back sobs as you fight for oxygen, numb to the feeling of warm hands on your back. Through the onslaught of tears, you recognize the shoe beside your knee as Xiaojun’s.

You try to focus on his voice, listening to each syllable as he murmurs your name in your ear and his attempts to guide you out of this frantic head space, but all you can focus on is the black hole manifesting within your chest. Your heart is like lead at your feet, your lungs burn, and your ears ring to a fever pitch.

YangYang’s words ring in your head like a death knell. The bell’s final toll signaling the end as the shadow of the man you knew disappears down the street.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv x reader #wayv x you #liu yangyang x reader #yangyang x reader #nct wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv angst #wayv x f!reader #yangyang x f!reader #yangyang imagines #liu yangyang x f!reader #wayv drabbles #x f!reader #x female reader #quokkawritings🌻

[garf-lover96]

i wrote a thing based off of @/iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia's headcanons for the same concept!! this is my second fic ever.. i really enjoyed writing it but i had to try so hard to make the facts add up😭😭i actually had a bad flu not that long ago so i pulled from that a little. word count is almost 2,5k. writing time was over 6 hours.... i kind of feel like the flow is a little choppy but when i was rereading it it wasn't that bad?? tbh for now i'll try to focus on actually writing down the ideas in my head and then attempting to make them more flowery, i just need to get the hang of it first. i might start writing some stuff for vesuvia weekly too

here you have the summary (i wrote it before finishing the fic, some things might've changed i guess)

cw for a panic attack and just sickness i suppose. it's not that explicit though, i didn't want to torture him or anything. there's angst and hurt/comfort, like in the last one

———

A few lazy days have passed in the magic shop since defeating the devil and saving the world. Since Asra went to live with his parents at the palace, Rowan insisted that Julian stayed with him immediately after they got all the long overdue conflicts resolved. And so they rested, finally sleeping for more than just a couple hours every night.

Julian was already getting used to living a life where he isn't wanted for murder and he was so full of ideas of what he wants to do, now that he has the chance. Open a clinic, travel, spend as much time as possible with the love of his life... He should probably consider putting bonding with Malak on his list too, since the raven insisted on moving in with them. They're like a small family now, and the idea makes Julian giddy with joy. Now it's just him, Rowan, Malak and Rowan's familiar, Bluebell who—unfortunately for him—still seems hung up on the fact that Julian is living in the shop now. Objectively, she had a fairly valid reason for it, in the beginning at least, but he thought she would've gotten over it by now. Thankfully, now she seems to ignore him more than just attacking him all the time.

Today, after having a late breakfast with Rowan, Julian—bringing Malak along—went out to run some errands and meet up with his sister. Rowan still seemed somehow drowsy after being pulled out of bed to eat with Julian so they both decided he's going to stay and maybe get some dinner ready for later. If anyone's deserving of sleeping in and taking it easy for even months from now, it's Rowan.

Julian steps into the shop, the bell above the door chiming gently as it closes behind him. He lets the raven fly off to his designated spot on a high shelf and leaves his coat on a hanger.

"Rowan, love, I'm home!" he calls out with a smile on his face, listening for an answer.

There's only silence. So he tries again.

"Dearest?"

Nothing again. Now that he's looking around, he can't seem to spot Bluebell anywhere nearby either. Did they go somewhere while he wasn't here? That can't be right, the door was unlocked. His heart drops a little and he swallows nervously. Rowan's surely fine. He has to be. How he wishes his lover would jump out of his hiding spot already and tell him it was all a silly joke...

He takes a few steps towards the back room. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when he notices Rowan curled up on a makeshift bedding of pillows in the corner. He's wrapped in a blanket, seemingly napping without a care in the world. He approaches slowly, not wanting to startle him. Only when he comes closer, he realizes that Bluebell is pressed firmly into the crook of his neck. Her eyes are closed too. They're napping together, how cute...

He gets down on his knees and kisses Rowan's temple gently, only to notice that he's unusually warm. His brows knit together slightly as he pulls off his gloves to check his temperature more easily. The subtle sound of leather makes Bluebell stir and scramble to the top of Rowan's head, ruffling her feathers and taking a protective stance, trying to shield him with her wings. Julian's sure she would be screeching at the top of her lungs if it weren't for the sleeping Rowan right beneath her. They stare at each other for a longer moment. Julian reaches out his hand slowly, trying to touch Rowan's forehead, when the magpie snaps her beak at him, just barely missing his thumb. Julian withdraws it quickly and sighs.

"Bluebell, sweetie, I just want to take his temperature." he states quietly in a strained tone.

Bluebell seems to consider it for a moment. She backs off just enough so Julian's palm can reach Rowan's forehead.

"A fever..." he mutters to himself before gently shaking Rowan's shoulder.

Rowan groans and covers his eyes, trying to squirm away from Julian nudging him.

"Rowan, can you look at me?" he asks and tries to pull Rowan's hands away from his face.

Rowan manages to open his slightly bloodshot eyes to which Julian's gentle expression falls completely. He swallows and almost stumbles back with a horrified expression. He manages to get himself together after a few breathless seconds and he leans down to pick Rowan up, along with his blanket, to which Bluebell starts chattering in distress loudly. She jumps forward and tries to bat her wings at him to scare him away again but Julian doesn't care anymore.

Damn it, he should've known. He should've known that Rowan wasn't feeling well since morning.

He gets tunnel vision. He just needs to get Rowan into the bed. He'll get him into bed and take care of him and he'll be fine again. It's just a fever, just a small fever.

He reaches the bedroom and sets Rowan down gently. The sick man seems barely conscious when he curls up under the sheets. Bluebell squeezes herself next to him again while Julian bolts out of the room just to return barely a few minutes after. He methodically sets some medicine and a glass of water on the bedside table, then a cool cloth on Rowan's forehead.

"Rowan..." he starts in a shaky tone "Rowan, please, j-just say something. I-I need to know you're okay..."

Julian reaches out to grab one of Rowan's hands and squeezes it gently. He stirs again and lets out a shallow sigh.

"...What's happening?" Rowan manages to mutter out in a slightly hoarse voice.

"You're just a l-little sick, I'll take care of everything, I promise. Are you feeling cold? Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something? I-I could get some soup started..." Julian stumbles over his words while his free hand instinctively travels up to caress his hair gently.

The more he looks into Rowan's tired, reddend eyes, the more he feels like he's losing his grip on reality. He starts hyperventilating and...

Suddenly he's back in the dungeons again. He sees his old patients in agony, the bodies piling up, everyone counting on him to find the cure for the plague. He sees Lazaret. He remembers finding out that Rowan died there.

Then he feels something warm and feathery on his shoulder. Then something lightly pinches his earlobe. He blinks his teary eyes and looks down, only to see that Bluebell has hopped onto his shoulder. She's squirming around, nudging him and making quiet chattering sounds, trying to get his attention.

He inhales sharply, as if he's just stopped drowning. He isn't proud of it but his hand shoots up and he grabs the magpie quite firmly, but for the first time, she doesn't seem to mind. Julian can't help to wonder for a second if she had to do a similar thing for Rowan before.

When he looks down at Rowan again, his eyes are focused on him, a worried expression on his face. Rowan hand squeezes Julian's weakly.

"Rowan, you're alive- God, of course you are, I'm so sorry-" Julian sobs out and practically yanks him up into a firm hug.

"What are we apologizing for...?" Rowan asks as he attempts to reciprocate the hug. He seems just the slightest bit more aware of his surroundings at least. His stomach growls quietly and Julian notices.

"Don't worry about it, I just- I'll get you something to eat, y-you haven't eaten anything since breakfast, have you?" he sniffs as he lets Rowan lay back down.

When he's halfway down the hallway to the kitchen, he notices that Bluebell is still firmly pressed against his neck.

"I, er, thought you'd prefer to stay with Rowan." he remarks in a confused tone.

The magpie chatters quietly, reaching out to preen the messy curls on the side of his head.

Julian shivers a little at the feeling. He's seen her do a similar thing to Rowan before. Is she trying to comfort him...? He lets her do her thing while he continues his pursue for the kitchen. Once he gets there, he seems determined to make some soup, before Bluebell stops him by pecking his neck lightly.

"...Is there a problem?" he asks while taking out a pot from one of the cupboards.

The bird chatters and lands on the counter, next to a half eaten loaf of bread.

"I can't give him that, he needs something nutritious-" he gets cut off by a screech. Apparently, it's not up for discussion. But who's he to argue with a bird that's known Rowan since probably like forever...

He sighs and obeys, cutting a few slices of the bread. He continues by spreading some butter on it, then looking at Bluebell again.

"I imagine you won't let me put anything else on it?" he asks with another small sniff, finally having calmed down from his initial panic.

Bluebell chatters approvingly and hops back onto his shoulder, resuming the gentle preening.

Julian takes the humble bread plate back into the bedroom when Rowan opens his eyes again just as he enters. He attempts to sit up when he sees the plate in Julian's hands.

"Wait, let me help!" Julian exclaims quickly, leaving the plate on the bedside table.

He accidentally nudges a container with medicine which is already on there but he manages to catch it before it topples to the floor. Then he embraces Rowan gently, helping him to sit up properly. He looks over his face frantically, feeling his warm cheeks and searching for any other concerning symptoms.

"Bluebell was with you..." Rowan mutters, leaning against Julian's hand a bit.

"Er, yes, she was... It caught me a little off guard too." he looks to the side and grabs the plate to show it to Rowan.

"Ah, bread and butter... I don't think I could've managed to stomach anything else, thank you..." he takes a slice with a slightly trembling hand.

That makes Julian smile gently. Of course Bluebell would know something like that. He pulls off his boots, crawls into the bed and wraps his arms around his partner while he munches on the bread slowly.

"...You were having flashbacks earlier." Rowan brings up quietly after swallowing a bite.

"I... Yes... Bluebell pulled me out of it though." he looks down to the bird still preening his hair, "She really can be a lovely little thing when she feels like it..." he adds with a soft sigh.

Rowan slowly gets through one slice of the bread before putting the plate away and speaking up again.

"I'm sorry for making you worry so much. I should've let you know I wasn't feeling well since morning..." Rowan starts, but gets cut off.

"No, don't apologize. I'm a doctor, for god's sake, I should've known better. And with what you've already been through- H-how could I be so neglectful?" he buries his nose in the crook of Rowan's neck, like he's ashamed.

Bluebell's preening picks up in pace, taking note of Julian's distress. Rowan turns a bit and takes his face into his hands, seeing that his eyes have gotten teary again. As he observes him, he notices the fact that he's still all sweaty and trembling from that moment of panic.

"I was so worried..." Julian mumbles out while caressing Rowan's hands, desperate to stay grounded by the fact that he's right in front of him.

Rowan looks to the side in thought. It doesn't take too long for him to pull Julian down into a laying position again. He fumbles with the covers a bit to get under them, which is a little harder with his body still being so shaky. He finally wraps his arms around Rowan's body, tangling his own legs with his partner's. He rests his head against Rowan's chest with a small sigh, wanting to feel his heart beating. This time, Bluebell stays tucked into Julian's neck.

"So you like each other now...?" Rowan whispers and kisses the top of his head lightly.

"You know it's not like I didn't like her before... She was just a little... Stubborn..." he whispers just that last word, as if to prevent the magpie from hearing it.

"Lucky for you, she has a soft spot for people with anxiety..."

Julian smiles a little in embarrassment, nuzzling into Rowan's chest.

"Do you need anything right now? If not the medicine, you should at least drink some water... Or I could go grab a fresh cloth for your forehead. Should I call Malak to come here too, maybe...?" he starts rambling quietly. It really seems like the exhaustion is finally setting in for him.

"No, I... Don't leave again. Just stay with me."

"Of course, yes, I will." he adjusts his grip a little, holding onto the back of Rowan's shirt, "I love you. I'll make sure you have everything you need all throughout the night."

"I know, Julian."

"...Could I just check your pulse real quick?"

Rowan indulges him with a soft sigh and reaches his wrist out to him. Julian grabs it and presses down on it lightly, savoring the feeling of Rowan's blood flowing freely, him being alive.

"Are you satisfied, doctor?"

"...Please don't call me that right now."

"Right, my bad..."

Julian kisses Rowan's wrist gently, then presses his palm to his own face. Rowan squeezes his cheek affectionately. Soon enough, Rowan gives into the exhaustion induced by the fever. But even though Julian is tired as well, he stays up, watching Rowan, making sure he's truly alright and doesn't need any urgent care.

When the morning comes, Rowan's fever has already broken, which makes Julian allow himself to doze off for at least a few minutes.

Then he gets woken up by a gentle whisper.

"Julian, love..." Rowan's voice sounds significantly less hoarse which makes Julian wake up immediately. It makes Rowan jump a little.

Julian takes a breath and props himself up on his elbow, sending Bluebell falling onto a nearby pillow. She seems to stay asleep regardless... He puts a hand to Rowan's forehead again and looks him over.

"Morning... How are you feeling?"

"How are you feeling? I don't remember your eyebags being that prominent yesterday."

"I, uh... I'm just fine, really. Just glad that you're okay. Are you sure nothing hurts?"

"My head feels a little heavy. If I tried to get up, I'd probably fall over."

"Then... Then I propose we stay in bed for the day. To prevent you from getting worse again." he states methodically, "Doctor's orders." he adds with a slightly wobbly tone.

"That might just be your best idea yet." Rowan agrees with a smile.

———

once again i ask for feedback, comments, anything..

i'm SO tired

#the arcana #julian devorak #julian devorak x mc #the arcana familiars #garf lover96 creation

[bettsfic]

2023 WIP cleanout

a couple years ago i did a major WIP cleanout and it was very satisfying, and i've been bummed out lately so i'm doing it again to cheer myself up.

i have about 200k worth of unposted/unfinished fic, and i'd like to make a decent dent in that. when i listed out my WIPs i was surprised to find that most of them i'd written past the 50% mark and for whatever reason, the fic went an unanticipated direction. instead of fixing it, i moved on. the problem is that usually the unanticipated direction is something cool and that i want to pursue, but would make the fic longer and more complicated than i want it to be, and more work than i want to put into it. once i get enough distance from a fic, it's a lot easier to see how to get it back on track.

there are many things i set down and never think about again, but if it sticks in my head for longer than a couple months, then i know i need to come back to it eventually.

so this is my accountability thread! and i'm going to lay out the steps i took to triage these fics and get them posted, in case it helps anyone struggling with the same problem.

here are the things on my WIP cleanout list:

(Organic Chemistry isn't on this list because i'm actively working on it, albeit slowly)

Wind of the New World

Annie/Finnick, The Hunger Games (ASE epilogue)

started August 2020

this one is what inspired the cleanout, and as of yesterday it is DONE and POSTED. for the longest time it sat at about 7k when i knew it would be 10k, and i couldn't make myself write the last 3k because somehow it turned into a threesome fic with Gale and it took me a loooong time to let go of that idea. also, it required a lot of canon knowledge, which faded the longer i kept it on the backburner.

to finish it, i:

killed a few darlings (Finnick's crush on Gale)

down drafted the scenes i hadn't yet written

reread ASE while taking notes

rewatched Mockingjay 2 while taking notes

transcribed several scenes of Mockingjay 2

made a punch list of things i wanted to fix/rearrange/expand on

up drafted, dental drafted, and posted

completing it took about 15 hours across 3 days.

Stray

Lumine/Razor, Genshin Impact

started April 2021

this is an alternate beginning to genshin where the traveler finds Razor instead of Paimon. it stalled out at 5k because i wanted it to be rated M and i also wanted the characters to get all the way to Liyue, but both of those things were far more work than i wanted to put into it. so now it'll be rated G and end when they reach Mondstadt. i don't anticipate it will be more than 7k.

Before the Suns Rise

Anakin/Padme/Obi-Wan, Star Wars

started June 2022

this one is nearly 45k and about 95% done. i set it down because 1) i got to the threesome part and writing threesomes is hard, 2) i hadn't watched the Clone Wars or Rebels yet and so i was self-conscious about my knowledge of canon, and 3) i got distracted by Lemon.

another thing that a lot of these WIPs have in common is that they're very closely tied to canon and therefore have Plot and even though i can do Plot, i find it exhausting and a little tedious.

this is a post-Vader, alt-OWK timeline fic. in the 20+ star wars fics i've written, only 5 of them are in any way related to canon, and they're all one-shots. so this one is going to be hard.

i anticipate it'll only take 5k to finish, for a total of 50k and 14 chapters.

Patronage

Seungho/Nakyum, Painter of the Night

started October 2021

this is my Patreon AU that's over 10k already. in it, Seungho is married to Jihwa (and cheating on him with Nakyum) and i wanted to write the whole thing through to their divorce (and Seungho Getting A Real Job), but that is just. a lot. so i'm going to write only to Seungho finally giving in to his feelings for Nakyum, with the knowledge that after season 4 is finished, i may want to continue it as a series and write the latter half as i'd intended.

i'll probably only add 1-2k, for a total of 12k.

In Water Falling

Ahsoka/Rex, Star Wars

started November 2022

this was the first rexsoka fic i started working on when i finished Clone Wars. i got about 10k in, scrapped it, wrote another 15k, scrapped it, and then started focusing on Organic Chemistry. also, i just got very frustrated with it. to fix this one, i think i need to lower my expectations of it, rearrange some plot points, and write the final 2-3 scenes.

maybe 3-4k more? hopefully it'll cap out under 20k.

There & Here

Chishiya/OFC, Alice in Borderland

started February 2023

in my defense, i set this one down, like. a week ago. there's nothing i'm stalled out on; i just have to finish it.

currently 25k, hopefully only 5k more, capping out under 30k. it's 4 chapters.

things i intend to finish later:

Good Bones - this is my Emergency Fic that i'm saving for when i'm too blocked to write anything else

Bomb Time - this is a BOSAS fix-it. i definitely want to finish it, but i'm going to wait until the film comes out in November, so i don't have to reread the book to remember what's going on

#writing update #2023 wip cleanout

[the-owl-tree]

PLEASE tear into moth flight's vision i am so interested in hearing ur thoughts about it

look at the time the fandom hyped up dotc so hard i got my hopes up and i vehemently hate this arc because of it. it is a hotbed of misogyny, ableism, shitty characters who are never portrayed to be wrong, abuse apologia, fatphobia, and did i mention the misogyny? like wow. they fucking hate women in this arc.

and i'll be honest when i went i first read moth flight's vision, i was already going in with a negative view because i hated dotc so fucking much...and i hated it! I ended up rereading it waaaaayy later and hated it AGAIN i have no clue why people put this arc or era on such a pedestal it sucked ass so bad. i want a written apology and financial compensation from the erins after i read it.

i know im being like a little dramatic but listen to me. i need everyone to hate this arc as much as i do.

Moth Flight's super edition is a mess of ideas, half-baked executions, and honestly...just bad? It doesn't convince the reader why a cat would be pushed to do this. Everything that goes wrong is because a) Moth Flight doesn't ask for help and b) Skystar, despite being redeemed, is a continuous antagonist that fucks over anyone for the sake of the plot.

The book is so afraid of having to deal with an actual redemption that Skystar is allowed to be the reason why Micah and Tiny Branch are killed yet the narrative refuses to foist any responsibility onto him. He's not allowed to be a villain, he's just there to service the plot then walk away scot free. Why? Why am I reading this??? What is the point of 6 books of this guy being an arrogant bloody dick with a half-baked redemption only for him to saunter out to cause problems with the books need it and don't even bother with sticking to him being an antagonist?! Anytime he's on screen I'm begging for someone to kill his ass already, I don't understand why the narratives tries to also push the blame on Moth Flight.

....speaking of her, her entire conflict doesn't work. Look, the idea of an individual problem leading to an entire societal wide change that cause more problems than it solves is interesting but the book doesn't sell it! The Clans are communal, she has tons of options in asking for help. The narrative is constantly patting my back saying see? see? she can't do it therefore it makes sense why she thinks no one can do it. It's an entire book of "how can a WOMAN raise her CHILDREN without her MAN" and the answer it gives us is: she can't :'( and by the end of the book i feel like i've been spit at. There's an overwhelming sense of disdain towards parents who ask for help (how Moth Flight treats Slate is cruel) and all of it is presented as in the right because the entire thesis is that despite living in a literal communal society where there's an entire rank dedicated to looking after children, single parents (read: mothers) are unable to look after children without a partner (read: the husband).

There's nothing wrong with a law being cruel or unfair, it actually adds to the story! It makes things interesting! But her entire story doesn't sell me on why the law was made, it makes me think more and more that the erins are really fucking weird about women (which has been made even more clear by that shitty kits & queens article no i will not let that go). But Moth Flight's conflict sucks ass, I don't buy it, and I feel I'm being shown one thing and told another.

I especially don't get why they didn't go with the obvious reason of having it be for superstitious/religious reasons (this shit is already so catholic, just go even further into the nun thing). Like, okay, here's my pitch of the law: kittens of medics are thought to be more at risk of curses/sickness/etc. Having it so Moth Flight's children share the same fate as other characters who are born to Medics: doomed to a life of suffering or go onto a path of destruction.

It wouldn't be true of course, the reason these children go off the rails is because the Clans expect them to but it would still be interesting!!

and that is my rant on this shitty super edition, thank you for asking :D

#warrior cats #deer rambles #this book is infuriating to read #the entire ARC is infuriating to read #i am not excited for riverstar's se because im so worried it's gonna follow into the dotc era shitty writing trends

[jeanmoreaux]

literally yes to all i could not fall asleep either 😭

i think what's so bRILLIANT about tsc (besides, like, everything) is that nora seemed really nervous that her vision for the story and characters would get swallowed by the HCs the fans have been cooking for years, and while that still could happen in book 2, i felt like while i was reading it her vision was my vision - like i am positive we as fans have influenced her story and maybe jerejean won't turn into anything (i'll eat my arm fr) but that bitch at the very least was like "okay sure fine i'll give you mutual attraction" "i'll give you jerejean friendship and intimacy even if i may not give you sex or romance (just yet)"

and i think the other thing i was so overjoyed about was that even though the og AFTG is definitely (clearly) very queer, nora really stepped up and took it to a whole new level in this one with both the representation and just the overall tone - that like not only are a lot (all????) of the trojans open and together and so incredibly gay, but they're shaping the story and jean and making it less shameful to be gay in exy. like og aftg spent a lot of time being like "don't be gay! this is bad! you can't do this!" and while jean still harbors that (for his own fucked up reasons i'm gonna kms) it's obvious that the tone for this book is so much brighter and gayer.

and! the parallels between neil's story and jean's!!! like obviously we could write essays on that topic alone but in conjunction with that point i just made - seeing the similarities between the house taking in jean and the foxes taking in neil (his lack of possessions, their protectiveness, their attempts to normalize him, their creation of a safe space for him) literally made me want to gouge my eyes out it was so beautiful and sweet and fun and QUEER. like aftg always had aroace undertones and such a huge part of the aro/ace experience is friendship and queer friendship at that and so to get to see this kind of found family play out AGAIN but in a slightly different way with a whole group of gays who are out and proud and happy is just......everything

like it's not that i was *worried* persay because i do trust nora but you never know what you're gonna get with spin-off sequels and this fandom is like a rabid dog and so for her to bravely return to this world after years is amazing in itself but to do it in a way that is.......dare i say.......almost......better than the original.......it blows my mind. and it makes me appreciate the original series in new ways now that we'll have more info on the ravens and all of their bullshit. like i literally am sitting here being like....so....series reread tn queen????

if i wasn't insane before (i was) then i sure as hell am now

~

also. can we talk about jeremy's cheesy af dialogue that makes me squeal? thinking about him saying hecka with his full chest....i love that man

holding hands 🤝✨ felt alive yet so dead once i was done.

also what a glorious ask. i can co-sign all of this and i don’t think i have anything to say that adds value to your points. you’re so right.

nora is so brave for letting us back into that world. because as much as i love and adore this fandom’s passion, it can be intense is a quite negative way at times. so yes, nothing but respect for nora coming back and giving us Her version of the story. the small nods to us (blond jeremy, frosted tips, the cardboard dog etc.) were so very endearing. and i don’t want her to betray her integrity just for the sake of fanservice. i trust her to deliver a great story, even when some of the things i might want to happen will not end up being anything (e.g. jerejean). nora’s vision will feel right because whatever she decides to do and wherever she decides to take this story i know will make sense. it’s very funny to me that you mentioned how you think tsc might be better than the original because i had the same thought. i am hesitant to really settle on it one way or the other yet; mainly because i tend to get very excited about new, shiny things, but also because we don’t have book 2 yet and i think to really Know i have to consider the story as a whole. but you can definitely see that nora improved as a writer in general (which ofc makes sense.)

i fear this will remain THEE aftg year for me. i am already tempted to reread. i don’t think i’ll know a moment of peace from this story in the foreseeable future but i am not gonna complain i’ll just lean into it and indulge.

~

godddd i expected to love jeremy but i didn’t expect to fall for him this hard. several time i caught myself studying his way of engaging with people and made some mental notes. he’s so special to me. i think once we get his backstory it will get even worse. and he does offer a very different perspective and attitude that’s so very refreshing while still being in tune with what we are used to.

#looove this message with all my heart <3 #thank you so much for sharing all these thoughts!!! #tsc #tsc spoilers #mish reads tsc

[batrachised]

I have another theory to add to why people don't remember/like/care about Teddy and Emily/Teddy much. The ending to Emily's Quest is so bad (imo) from both a literary and an emotional standpoint that no one has any time or motivation to form any sort of attachment to them as a couple or Teddy, who has been largely absent in the book, as an individual.

(I say knowledgeably having read this series exactly once as an adult.)

I FINISHED MY REREAD so I feel I can answer this question.

I think you've hit the nail on the head. I went into the remaining books of the series expecting Teddy to finally talk - in emily climbs we have the graveyard scene where they nearly kiss at the beginning- and it just...never happened. I didn't count the number of times he spoke, or even the number of times Emily and him interacted, but they seemed fairly few. In fact, if I were to rank Emily's love interests by the amount of attention they receive, it would be:

Emily's writing

Dean

Teddy

(Perry should be above Teddy but he doesn't really count)

The books consistently present Emily's ambitions/passion as a competitor to love. Dean will be about to kiss her, or she'll nearly cross some similar threshold--and then she'll think of a story (and I love that for her, she reminds me so much of Pat and I'm curious to know if this happened to LMM lmao). Dean also figures prominently in these books and actually has conversations (does anyone else straight up not believe he'd be content with a corner in Emily's house? Lmm was very vague about the number of years at the end of Emily's quest, but I can't imagine it to be decades) with Emily.

Regarding the ending, I feel like it felt...almost random. Emily's pride combined with Mrs Kent being insane (how many animals has this woman poisoned??) results in a mostly passive conflict. Emily and Teddy don't fight--they don't speak. This follows a relationship which mostly consists of thinking about each other. The sharpest conflict we get is when Teddy says he hated the star that represented Emily, and it's one of the most potent scenes in the book!

teddy seems a lot of tell and not show. We get told he's gentle, but that mostly consistent of him not doing something (IE, putting up with his mother). We get told he's a brilliant artist, but unfortunately this doesn't translate easily through text, unlike Perry's tenacity and Ilse's aggressive vibrancy. I do think the detail of him putting Emily into every girl he draws is a nice touch! But it's just a touch. We get told by Ilse, a potentially unreliable source, that Teddy is selfish, but we never really see that at length. To be fair, I am brushing over a lot of plot details here where Emily watches teddy do something or teddy makes a choice (ie staying in Europe so forth), but as always with our Teddy Kent--most of those occur from a distance.

Genuinely, I feel like we got more details about who MARK GREAVES is as a person than Teddy Kent (for all Emily looked down on him, well, he reminded me of her hahahaha). From what we do see, Teddy seems interesting. He can read Emily very well. He understands Emily's ambitions. He has a similar keen artistic sense. But again, a lot of these details are told to us, not shown.

That's what leads up to the ending of Teddy being left at the altar--which, again, we don't get to see his reaction on screen--then Emily basically being very depressed for years, and then him randomly returning. I don't know if you ever read the Pat series, but the ending here is actually very similar. A near absent hero returns after making his artistic name in far distant lands and BAM the couple is together, despite very little interaction in the book. Especially with Emily, I feel like there's a missing scene in between them not speaking for years and them basically immediately being like we do love each other. At the least, a sentence where Emily hesitates because of her pride would have added some texture. I'll end by saying all of this is obviously personal preference - I tend to not enjoy the dreamy artist love interests in the first place, so obviously I'm biased. But I do wish we had seen more of Teddy on screen, and Teddy engaging with Emily. I think the conflict of the third book was silence, and in being silence, it felt empty.

#emily of new moon #lm montgomery #Teddy kent

[leminhthinking]

"add something, if youd like" ok, here is something i used a throwaway account to comment on the Double MV. i didnt reread so i didnt remember anything about it sorry but there probably is mention about internalized ableism. also personal experience. its kinda shaped like a rant

posting it here now that i came out about being plural here. yeah.

tldr (theres another tldr at the end of it but it was from the time i commented and i want to add something else here) i love representations

I keep finding myself wanting to comment something under this video, but I know I'll say stuffs about myself that I feel would be unsafe to share using my main so I'm using this throwaway account to do it instead 😔

I just want to say that I'm so grateful that Mikoto and John (and maybe other alters in their system too? saying this just in case) were ever written. Being a system who had just discovered that only over a year ago, I can almost see myself, no, I can almost see *us* in every part of their story up until now. And in a way, I feel like I've also... grown with them? If that makes sense?

I have been following MILGRAM for quite a while, enough to be there when MeMe was just released. Back then, I still thought that I was certainly a singlet (didn't have DID), despite how one of my alters - I will refer to her as my sister from now - showed up pretty regularly at the time. That's why when I watched MeMe, I remember thinking to myself, "oh shit, this guy's just like me, and because [insert internalized ableism here] I'm saying he guilty then." But then we all know what's got confirmed 😂 Funniest thing is, a short while before that, I also came to term about being a system. Dammit, to think about it, it felt like a second confirmation 😭😭😭😭

Now that I have accepted who we really are, the release of Double and their second voice drama feels exceptionally special to me, as the host of our system. John and Mikoto's situation right now really reminds me of us last year. My sister and I specifically, respectively. At that time, I tried hard to deny the fact that I am not alone in my head, and that we are entirely separate people. It took me a while (with a few tarot spreads. fuck. I'm a Mikoto kinnie now) to know that we actually are... and some actual, honest conversations to know that she actually loved me, rather than wanting to harm me... Yeah. Yeah. You see what I'm talking about? That's why I'm really rooting for Mikoto and John to have better communication... Ah, maybe if Mikoto watched "his" own second trial MV, he would understand...

That being said, I'm still not sure on what to vote... When I first watched Double and listened to the second voice drama, I thought to myself, ouch, ok, guilty because John clearly seems to be the alter who knows more right now and that would keep him fronting more to interrogate. But after a while, my opinion... changed? I don't want Mikoto to be affected too much from the verdict and maybe going dormant because of that. John maybe still there for the interrogation but fuck, I don't think he's ever been without Mikoto for a long time and I'd hate to see his heart breaks. Maybe innocent is the better solution after all for the whole system, as it might soothe Mikoto's mood and his mindset. I also trust that MILGRAM's writer team know what they are doing and therefore would not "kill off" John. Maybe they will just let him be inactive for a while if they are voted innocent, given that he's finally satisfied with our decision...

(Yes, I do know innocent = forgiven and guilty = not forgiven and I'm deciding while knowing that. I'm just calling them innocent and guilty because I'm more used to it while speaking in English.)

Hmm, that was a longer rant than I expected. I don't know how to conclude really, so I'll say something that would sound entirely unrelated 😔 If I remember correctly, prisoners can hear us audiences right? If that's really true, I just want to scream to Mikoto and John that it's 100% ok to be a system! To not be alone inside your mind! To exist alongside another person in your system and love them! It's ok to just be yourselves! And please please please fucking find a way to communicate with each other!!!

Once again, thank you MILGRAM for letting them exist... I really hold them so dearly in our heart...

TL;DR: local system getting emotional over Mikoto and John, rooting for them to have better communication.

#leminhthinking in paragraphs #leminhtalking #milgram #its so funny that when i come look at the tags in my blog milgram appeared to be the one at the top and then umineko #like i didnt expect that but. Ok. i should have expected that

[03josten]

hi friendoo. i saw your post about fics and i was wondering if you had any aftg fic recs. i remember you recommended me once "under the kitchen lights" and nothing beat that fic since...i reread it so many times...

roro u know this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i didn't want to post it until i was satisfied but it was just gonna rot here if i didn't post it now. i'll add to the post if i think of any more.

just linking these in the order i find them or think of them, some of them are unfinished and older

Neil never made it out of Baltimore.

Six years later, Andrew has his life together, more or less, but he's far from okay. When Bee convinces him to change the scenery and go on a trip around Europe, he knows this isn't going to fix anything.

Except, he's sitting on a train in Switzerland across a ghost who's staring at him with a familiar crystal blue gaze and no spark of recognition in his eyes

Neil has temporary amnesia, and Andrew is disconcertingly attractive. This is especially disconcerting because Neil was pretty sure he didn't swing. Nicky is endlessly pleased by the entire situation.

Andrew Doe had been on the streets since getting released from an Oakland juvenile facility six months ago. He'd made his way down the California coast, and had been living in a homeless encampment on Venice Beach for the last two months. He'd made a decent life for himself and felt relatively safe and settled--until a boy with a worn-out duffel bag and haunted eyes appeared at his corner of the beach and threw his life into chaos.

Andrew becomes a cliché and joins a travelling circus after falling for the pretty sword swallower.

A year post-canon, when they thought they were safe, Neil goes missing.

Neil dug into the bag, through the snacks, and stared. In the bottom was a bottle of red hair dye. Not natural red, like Neil's, but something more… firetruck. It was darker than that, but that was the closest word Neil could think of.

"Oh," Neil said dumbly. When he looked up, Andrew was already looking at him.

"Oh," Andrew mocked.

Andrew and Abram meet in California, only for him to be wrenched away by the Moriyamas - until he shows up at PSU four years later.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45407749

Neil desperately does not want to talk to her. It doesn’t matter how many times Andrew tells him Betsy is very good at her job and could do a lot to help him; Neil doesn’t need anyone rooting around in his brain trying to fix him, thank you very much. He knows he’s fucked in the head, but he’s been dealing with it by himself for his entire life, and he’ll keep dealing with it on his own until the day he dies.

But Andrew is exactly the problem, today, and as strong as Neil’s dislike for Betsy is, he knows that if there’s anyone who can advise him on how to approach this…issue, it’s her...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45405370

Andrew finally lets his emotions in - the good and the bad.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45297673 this one is SEXY

Yes or no?" Neil asked as he pulled away, a grin on his face.

Andrew contemplated. He felt good. He had woken up comfortably, and the presence in bed beside him hadn't set him on edge. Him and Neil had been together for years, but sometimes he still woke up and put space between them. Neil always understood, but there was a crease in his brow for the rest of the day whenever it happened. Today was a good day for Andrew. Not just okay, but good.

"Yes," Andrew decided.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42678765/chapters/107211447

The next universe over, life has gone a bit easier on Andrew. He’s gainfully employed as a nurse of all things, working beside his best friend Renee, and living in relative harmony with his brother, the recently graduated Dr. Aaron Minyard. Everything’s fine.

It’s fine that he hasn’t spoken to Kevin in person for three years. It’s fine if Aaron’s leaving him to marry his stupid doctor girlfriend.

It’s fine until the boy with the box-dyed hair stumbles into the ER and passes out at his feet, bringing a world of secrets and trouble with him.

And Neil? Neil’s looking for any port in a storm.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45106720

The Monsters come to Columbia for the summer. There is lemonade and sweet tea, video games, ice cream and Andrew in muscle tees and short shorts. Neil is having the best summer of his life.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625013/chapters/67588202

Neil joins a band, gets laid and starts a mob war.

Andrew met a guy at a bar. Sort of. He had a one night stand with the guy he met at a bar. Sort of. Then said guy he met at a bar and had a one night stand with became a regular hook-up. Sort of.

Now the guy he met at a bar who became a regular hook-up after a one night stand keeps a toothbrush at his place.

Sort of.

Fuck.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47047513

"Andrew realized what he was seeing but he couldn’t comprehend it. He didn’t know how to help. There was no enemy to deal with – there was just Neil seizing on the floor and Andrew didn’t know what to do." _____ Neil starts having seizures and Andrew tries to help.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47005483

A hot guy moves in downstairs. Allison sees him first.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46988053

Andrew was a southern boy, through and through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46033726

After an upbringing lacking in mundanity, Neil just wants to live a “normal” life. He’s got a home, a circle of friends, a job — why not give casual sex a shot?

Neil tries out poetry and he and Andrew are disgustingly in love.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47394898

Neil is on just a few more drugs when the Feds come to the hospital after picking him up from his father's basement, and doesn't cause enough of a ruckus to get the Foxes brought to his hospital room. Stuart takes him back to England instead.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47377012

Just falling in love.

(I've reread this fic maybe 8 times...10/10)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39298077

Neil's adventures in playing for the world's crappiest college Exy team, featuring highlights such as a meet-ugly of star players Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard, a tour of all three of Ohio's thrilling sights, copious amounts of shit-stirring, the mystery of an undead house plant, arguing about Pokémon with a guy he met online and sometimes hooks up with and definitely doesn't know in real life, forced team bonding, a date at the Mothman museum, charcuterie boards, and many more.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47515573

Someone's taken a dick pic in the arcade photobooth. Detective Andrew Minyard is on the case.

Andrew and the Idiotic, Thirsty, Ill-advised, Very Off-Limits Crush on his College Roommate's Younger Brother.

(a fav of mine. highly recommend)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650433

Four million words, written across hundreds of journals. But one of Andrew Minyard's decoded stories outlives the rest. The story of his forbidden love, Neil Hatford.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42831054

This is the story of Neil and Andrew post “The King’s Men” and spans 12 years. It’s about their sexual journey – every baby steps, missteps, and gigantic leaps. It is also (and perhaps more importantly) the journey of how they stay committed throughout it all, made visible in the little things, and bigger, grander gestures. Most of this is a mix of canonical facts and my own take on their future. A few of the scenes include: the night following the championship game, Andrew allowing Neil to get him off, Neil getting fucked for the first time, the handcuffs scene, Andrew moving to a new city while Neil has to stay at Palmetto for his last year, Andrew bottoming, Nicky’s wedding, and Andrew and Neil’s public coming out far, far in the future, followed by a crazy Fox reunion.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47370928

Every hair on his new body stood on end as he quickly patted himself down, finding a wallet in his back pocket but nothing else until his shoe caught on the strap of a duffle bag, half buried in the sand under his bench. He yanked the bag up beside him, giving it a quick shake to loosen the sand clinging to the canvas fabric, before turning his attention to stripping the wallet bare. He decided quite quickly that his other half was an asshole. There was plenty of loose cash in his wallet, but not a single personal item of any manner. No ID. No bank card. No pictures of girlfriends or family. Not even an old receipt stuffed in the bottom. At the very least, life hadn’t disappointed him with how shitty things could get.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34885285 this one is also so sexy ur welcome

Neil and Andrew have always been inseparable since the day they first met in seventh grade - when Neil was Natalie and Andrew was no longer a Doe. They grew up side by side, sharing everything with the other - everything besides their feelings for each other. But now they’re nineteen and eighteen, and after Andrew kisses Neil, they begin exploring a side of each other they never thought they would. Well, that, and they still aren't sharing their feelings for each other too.

#Dramatically blows the dust off this ask and places it in front of u like ur a wizard and im the old wise librarian helping u on ur quest #all for the game #Aftg #Andreil

[bottombatch]

Fanfic Writer Questions

thanks for the tag @optiwashere!

If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged! But here is one more for the road: @collegeoflore

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Apparently I have 20? That's news to me lol. I would have guessed like 10 to 12. I've used this AO3 account for a while, I guess.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

62,119 words, according to the statistics.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, only Baldur's Gate 3. Before that I was writing lightcanon for League of Legends.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. And They Were Roommates

2. To Muzzle a Gith

3. Misfit and Nomad

4. I Thought About You

5. Workouts in a Winter Hellscape

Damn. Some of these are callbacks.. Not too surprised, though. These either have popular ships or popular fandoms. LoL lightcanon in 1, 3, and 4 make sense to me, even if I'm embarrassed by the writing in them. Continually shocked by To Muzzle a Gith. I guess Shadowzel is that popular? I don't know. I have so little desire to write for them again and the writing in it makes me cringe, tbh. Same with #5 LMAO. You couldn't pay me enough to reread the fics I wrote in highschool.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, always! Well. If someone comments on something really old I might not? But only because im scared they'll ask me to update it lmao. But in general, yes! I love talking and hearing what people liked!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If I'm including the 20 QOTD Challenge fic (and i am because this is my post), I'd have to give it to Nerves, ch19 of that challenge. I mean, its a flashback scene about killing a childhood friend (and maybe lover) for a crumb of an uncaring goddess' attention.

It's pretty much the only piece of angst I've written that doesn't have some overtone of hope to it. I'm hoping to work it into my act 1 rewrite because I like it so much.

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

To me, its Savoring Seconds from the challenge. It's bittersweet but after everything those two have been through... It's the happiest I can envision them ever being. Maybe that's just my bias tho :P

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No? Do most people get hate on fics? I haven't had anything of the sort. Hard to imagine what that would even be like..

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I do. Outside of To Muzzle a Gith, I think I write pretty tame stuff? More emotional than anything.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

A Common Song was really the only crossover, but even then.. it was really just a League of Legends fic with a cyberpunk2077 au. It had some good ideas tho.. maybe I'll return to it some day.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I've noticed?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

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

Not really. I've helped with brainstorming before but that's really all.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

This.. is tough. I change fandoms too often for something like this 😭 If I had to pick a bg3 ship... Laz/Karlach. Is it cheating to say my OC ship? Probably. But fuck you, its MY post. I've cried multiple times on the bus just thinking about these two, no one else had quite the strangle hold on me. (I was thinking abt Karlach's funeral btw).

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

A Common Song. I was cooking on some of those ideas but I was FAR too ambitious lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm... Not totally sure, to be honest. Its hard to read your own stuff and see what's uniquely strong. If you have any thoughts, please let me know!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't think my writing has much rhythm to it. I'd like to work on that. Also my grammar is shoddy at best. English classes were always my lowest grades :,)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

For fantasy languages I think it's fun! It can add a lot of depth and creates a lot of insight to a characters culture. Dabbling with Drowic for example was a lot of fun.

But like, a real language? Naw. I don't know any other languages so unless it was a phrase I knew a character said in canon.. I wouldn't want to risk a shoddy google translate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Uh. It was either Invader Zim, Mass Effect, or SAO? I'm not totally sure. This would have predated AO3, when I was in middle school or something. I've tried to find those fics but I think they're genuinely lost.

Probably for the best lol.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Currently, it is Snowfall. Once I post it, I think it'll be the act 1 rewrite.

#fanfic writer q #tag game #doing this on my phone was a HUGE pain in the ass #i might go back and hyperlink the fics later if i remember

[dorics]

literally tell me more about die trying right now I'm so intrigued

i, as a lesbian with good taste, think it's time someone in the price family seduced a woman away from the covenant. and who else should do it but elsie? anyway this is my entirely unfinished elsie price/chloe cunningham fic, because i think their dynamic would be the kind of fun lesbian drama i like to write about. featuring elsie getting to play roller derby (ik why she doesn't in canon but wouldn't it be fun to let her play for a little bit?)

anyway i never got very far (probably bc i don't understand roller derby? and also bc at the time i wrote this i hadn't gotten anyone else into incryptid so i didn't have anyone else to talk about it with) but i still think it's fun. maybe after next year's incryptid reread i'll come back to it

there was something comforting in being the spare.

chloe cunningham had told herself that as a child, even though she'd known it wasn't true. and as was the way of lies, it somehow became a truth without her even realizing it. sure, her parents loved leonard more, but it also meant that leo carried the weight of all their expectations. leo was the one who they never expected to disappoint them, and if the spare did, well, they supposed it had just been a matter of time. 

they had their baby, too, in [nathaniel?], who could never disappoint them, no matter how much he fucked up, she thinks, bitterly. 

of course, knowing why her parents had always passed her over in favor of her brothers hadn't made it stop hurting, but there was a certain comfort in knowing why.

now that she was older, she viewed being the spare as a blessing with the same ferocity with which she had viewed it as a curse as a child. what being the spare meant was that she, unlike leo, did not spend all of her time under their parents' watchful eye, which left her free to do what she liked. up to and including things they might not have approved of, had they known.

in this case, that meant roller derby.

she'd been stationed in the upper northwest of the us for months, on what was meant to be an easy assignment, after her brother had gone and let timpani brown get kidnapped — no point in flying chloe back to england when they needed another operative in the pacific northwest after robert had died — and nothing had harnessed the endless energy and aggression inside her. she'd tried jogging, swimming, zumba, and nothing had filled it, not the way long hours working out at the gym back home did. sure, there were gyms here, but they tended to frown upon a young girl staying there for hours at a time, and there was no shortage of creeps who loved to stare at her, which, well. gross. 

so when she'd seen a flyer for something called roller derby, well, she'd figured if it didn't work out, it was just another thing to add to the long list of things that hadn’t worked and a waste of an afternoon.

it had turned out to work. honestly almost too bloody well for her to believe it was real. that it was something she was even allowed to do — which, well. technically it wasn't, but who was going to know? no one here knew her, after all. it was just little chloe caldwell — it was her mother’s maiden name, which made it easier to remember on false ids — all by her lonesome.

“what're you thinking about?” a voice jolted her from her thoughts, and chloe looked up to see a girl seated next to her, with hair the color of an electric blue highlighter. this was one of the other perks of roller derby — the girls were all hot, enthusiastic, and best of all, largely queer. chloe had known she was a lesbian for a while now, but she'd never been able to settle into the word until she'd joined the wilsonville rose petals as a blocker called thorn this way. now, it felt like more than a word the girls had whispered to her back home, snickering and acting as though it was something naughty. now, the word was beginning to feel like home. it helped, of course, that there were several out and proud lesbians on the team, something chloe had never had before. gay people in the covenant, well... they weren't quite exiled, but they weren't quite accepted, either. not when the covenant was so focused on ensuring there would be a next generation to carry on after all of them got killed by the things that go bump in the night. 

“nothing much, nors,” chloe said, a half-smile painted across her face. the girl seated next to her was morbud curiosity, also known as nora rogers, one of their pivots. 

nora frowns at her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “didn’t look like nothing,” she said mildly, and chloe sighed. 

“just... my parents. life. you know how it is.” how my parents expect me to come home and settle down and marry a man and produce little covenant babies, and i don't even like men like that. not that they know about that part. or would care, if they did.

the covenant was tolerant of lesbians and gay men and extramarital affairs, just as long as they were perfectly willing to produce heirs and marry who they were told, which meant that that tolerance really extended to what they could pretend they didn't see.

“do you want to talk about it?” nora asked, nudging her shoulder with her own. 

“not until i've beaten you in a race around the track,” chloe says, her mouth twisted into a half-smile.

#seanan don't look #fic tag #ask tag #wip ask game