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depressedacadamia · 3 years

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Lightweight

Summary: Will Solace can’t realy hold his alcohol but Nico doesn’t really mind.

A/N: 2 fics in one week? Oh my gods, who is this writer and what have they done with Persephone? Enjoyy yall- I really enjoyed writing this one!

Read on A03

“Hands off sunshine!” Nico warned as he held the bottle of vodka above his head, his arms outstretched.

“Give meee!” Will cried, his hand sloppily hitting Nico’s arm. The summer air was warm and Nico could feel the thin layer of sweat on his forehead- considering he had to stay in his tiptoes to hold the bottle above Will.

“Will, you didn’t even drink that much! How are you so drunk?”

“You don’t love me! Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, ya little drunk shithead. You are totally wasted, no matter how many times you will doubt it,” Nico sighed, throwing Will’s arms over his shoulders in a vain attempt to carry him back to Cabin 7.

Will gave one long blink. Then another. “ Where are we going?”

“To your cabin. I’d shadow travel but I've seen a regular person’s reaction to that, I don’t want to see what chaos would come out of shadow travelling a hot drunken mess.”

“Did you just call me a mess?” Will pouted.

“Yes but I called you a hot mess. Focus on that part. It was mostly a compliment.”

“You’re sooo mean to meee. Do you even love me?”

“Yes I love you, stop being so heavy and carry your own legs please.” Nico shifted his back under the weight of his boyfriend's entire body and tried to manage a few steps- they would have been easy if his boyfriend wasn’t so damn fit and if he himself wasn’t slightly inebriated.

“Ni-” Will hiccuped. “-Co!”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

Nico sighed again, slightly frustrated by the constant question. “Yes I love you, ask again and the answer may vary.”

“Phi Phi is so much nicer than you,” Will grumbled, his head leaning into the crook of Nico’s neck. Nico could smell the twinge of alcohol in Will’s breath along with the regular smell of the spearmint gum he would always be chewing.

“Phi Phi?” Nico snorted. “ Who in the name of God is that?”

“Your stepma! Phi Phi! She gave me so many nice flowers last time we visited!” Will paused before giving Nico an innocent look of disapproval. “ Do you not remember Phi Phii?”

Will accidentally dragged out the last ‘ee’ syllable in the word ‘phi phi’ making it sound like he was a 3 year old trying to read for the first time. Nico almost shivered at the mention of his stepmother; the last time he checked, she still had at least 157 variations of dandelions that she could turn him into the second he did anything going against her liking- afterall, she may have been the Goddess of the Spring but she was still the Queen of the Underworld.

“Yes, of course I remember Phi Phi.” He lowered his voice as he muttered the next few words under his breath to prevent them from being heard. “ How could I forget her and her stupid dandelions?”

“Phee Pheeee!”

“What about Phi Phi?”

Will paused for a few seconds. He tilted his head looking at Nico. “ Do you love me?”

Nico, awfully frustrated, decided to not answer the question honestly. “ No, I do not love you right now. Drunk you is a mess whom not only subject hops but also cannot walk coordinately.”

Nico did not think Will would take anything he said seriously but to his horror he was greatly mistaken. Will’s slow and steady breathing quickly became a rapid torrent of quick and unsteady breathing. Nico had thought that he was just mucking about but then he felt warm tears stain his shirt.

Tears streamed down Will’s flushed face, his freckles were almost invisible as the tears continued running down his face like a current. His chest racked with sobs and he pulled away from Nico and collapsed on the ground. He buried his head in his hands and let his heart beat harder with every cry that left his lips.

Nico watched, his mouth dropped. He had no idea what he had done or how to make it better. He reached out, trying to console the drunk and overly emotional Will but instead found himself feeling guilt beyond any he had ever felt before.

“Will?” He whispered. “ Will? You’re drunk. I was just joking, I didn’t mean anything I just said.”

Will's loud sobs started to slowly quieten down but the tears still freely ran across his face. He glanced upwards at Nico, his eyes rimmed red. His bottom lip wobbled and his eyes were wet.

“But.. but you said that you don’t love me…”

“I was joking. I was lying. I do love you. Only you.”

Nico plopped himself beside Will and shuffled himself closer, awkwardly. He tried to wrap one of his arms around Will but he found it to be too short and only barely touched Will’s other shoulder. So instead, he settled for rubbing soothing circles on Will’s back, calming him and forcing him to breathe slower.

“How do I know you are not lying to me now?” Will’s eyes were innocent and once again brimming with tears. “I always worry that you're just lying to me and then one day you’re going to just go poof and stupid me will be all sad.”

Nico thought he could feel his own eyes stinging- was this how Will really felt? Was Nico that bad a boyfriend that Will felt that every word, every kiss, every moment was a lie? Or did Will just consider himself so unloveable that every good thing that ever happened to him was just temporary or fake?

Nico glanced at the blonde eyelashes that were clad together with tears.

What happens inside that gorgeous head of yours, Solace?

“I love you William Andrew Solace. I choose you. You’re my significant other, significant annoyance- whatever you want to call it. And if I ever disappear, you’re sure as hell coming with me.”

Will wrapped his arms tightly and unexpectedly around Nico’s waist- causing Nico to be pushed onto his back while Will snuggled into his abdomen. Nico could feel his t-shirt stick to him due to the tears from Will’s face.

“I love you soooo much,” Will murmured into Nico’s stomach. Nico could feel his breathing hitch at the words. Nico kissed Will- light and innocent. That's what the kiss meant. He could taste the salty tears on Will’s lips and the bitter aftertaste of the vodka on his tongue. The kiss was quick, chaste and it may have not satisfied Will’s desire but it made him feel safe.

And to both of them, that’s all that mattered.

Will awoke the next morning with several life regrets but none as strong as the stupid amount of alcohol he had decided to consume the previous day or night. He could barely remember anything- let alone figure out where in the name of Zeus he was. The cabin seemed dreary but at the same time it was beautiful. It was dark and light and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.

Wait. What Cabin was this? Whose Cabin was this? He didn’t think there was any Cabin that was so roomy with such a lack of accommodation. He almost felt like he was in a Cabin for a child of the Big Three- He remembered the one time he had taken a glimpse of the Poseidon Cabin and he remembered it to be huge- something he deeply envied Percy for.

It was only until Will noticed the black clad figure kneeling beside him that he realised where exactly he was. Beautifully tousled hair, gorgeous lips and eyes that one could get lost in forever- he only knew one person with features so defining. The question was, what on earth was he doing in Cabin 13?

Cabin 13- His boyfriend's cabin. Immediately, Will scrambled upwards. He looked Nico straight in the eye and tried to recall to what extent he embarrassed himself as a drunken idiot last night.

“How bad was it?”

“Shall I sugar coat it or give it to you straight?”

Will managed to squeak out, “Give it to me straight.”

“You tried to get into my pants and talked about how hot you thought I was.” Nico shrugged nonchalantly.

Will blanched and he immediately wished that had asked for the sugar coated version. He heard Nico laughing and he could feel his nerves both calm down and panic at the same time. Nico’s laugh was calming and beautiful and warm and made him feel all fuzzy like he was under a fluffy blanket. But he worried for what reason Nico was laughing.

“Calm down sunshine. I was joking- you should have known that I wouldn’t have been able to give it to you straight. You just asked dumb questions and cried a bit.”

“I cried?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Nico batted his hand. Will collapsed back onto the bed with an ‘ow’ and groaned something unintelligible about it being ‘too early in the morning for this’.

“It’s actually 1 in the afternoon but to each their own I guess.”

Will wanted to shout WHAT but he did not want to rack his head with an already painful headache so he instead settled for dropping his jaw.

“Close your mouth sunshine unless you plan on using it,” Nico mumbled. Will felt his jaw drop further before he snapped it back and swore internally. He made a mental note to never have a hangover near Nico because he would use it to his advantage.

“So why exactly did I cry yesterday?” Will asked as he sipped from the glass of water that had been placed at the bedside by, he could only assume, Nico. Will noticed that when asked that question, Nico tensed, his hands digging slightly into his jeans.

The corner of Will’s lips tilted upwards. “ What did you say?”

“What makes you think I said anything? Drunk you is a crybaby and you know it,” Nico huffed defensively, refusing to meet Will's eye.

“Yeah but you’re acting guilty.”

“What if I killed some boring skeleton zombie this morning and I’m only now mourning their already dead body?”

“Spare me the dark and frankly dry humour,” Will deadpanned, excited to hear the cause of his outburst yesterday.

Nico mumbled something under his breath, all while looking away from Will.

“What?”

“I said,'' Nico took a deep breath. “That I didn't love you-”

“-What?”

“But it was a joke!”

Will could feel his stomach churning and he couldn't tell if it was from the hangover or the current situation. He managed to resist a gag. “How is that a joke?”

Will’s voice was so hoarse and weak, Nico thought that he was going to break into tears all over again and he knew that if that happened, he would end up with tears flooding his own face.

“It’s because, well, drunk you kept on asking Do you love me and of course I do but drunk you is just so heavy and you kept on asking and so I of course gave a sarcastic quip and you just burst into tears and..”

Will stared at Nico and for a second, Nico was terrified that he had really blown it.He watched as his boyfriend buried his face into his hands and began shaking. His back was shivering and Nico could hear little whimpers.

“Fuck.” Nico had subconsciously let the profanity pass through his lips.

Will, suddenly, threw his head back and his laugh echoed around the empty Cabin 13. Nico felt stuned. Was he laughing in rage? Should he run?

“Will. I am so so sorry. I swear, it was a joke. I love you, I chose you William Andrew Solace. I’ll do it again and again.”

“You,” Will wheezed. “ Idiot! Did you really get so worked up over drunk me being dramatic? I was being hyperbolic!”

Nico tilted his head ever so slightly but his ravenous locks still fell over his eyes however he didn’t seem to mind as he made no effort to move it from his sight.

“So… you aren’t mad?”

“I mean I won’t reject any special treatment if you were thinking of offering as a way of showing your sorrow,” Will teased.

“Shut it.” Nico pouted. “ Do I not get a dramatic love confession? I gave you two.”

Will raised his eyebrow and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “ If I can count correctly, and I can, I only recall one dramatic love confession.”

“You were too drunk to remember the first one.”

Will let out a groan before softly smiling.”I love you. I choose you, Nicolo Di Angelo.”

“Don’t call me Nicolo!”

242 notes · View notes

henryandalex · 4 years

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***Magnus and Alec are husbands. Yes, this needed to be said because CAN YOU BELIEVE? :’) But also, yes, it’s really been that long since the latest Malec fic rec. I’m sorry. It’s... yeah. Although if you also miss Malec every second of every day, reading fanfics at least helps a little.

I tried to collect a nice mix again so I hope you will enjoy this 9th (!!!) edition of my Malec fanfic rec posts. As usual, I enjoy making them and rec’ing you fics but these posts take a looooot of time so please, please, please reblog, like and spread the word so that I see you enjoy these and these posts are helpful. It motivates to do a new one in the future if y’all are interested. Thank you

And now, have fun discovering, reading, and loving those Malec fics. And leave a kudo and comment for those authors while you’re on it. We all love appreciation and need validation. :)***

previous Malec fic recs: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

---

42 NORTH 71 WEST by @lecrit [ M | AU | 62.1k | complete ]

Alec sometimes wonders why he ever decided to pursue a career in politics. Magnus sometimes questions whether pursuing his dream of becoming an actor was worth it.

Those two facts are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 21.3k | complete ]

Alec pulls up to the gold intercom positioned at the enormous front gates. Like everything owned by the obscenely wealthy, they’re proportioned for both for giants and giant egos.

He’d hoped this would be easier, less gut-churning work than protecting diplomats and foreign dignitaries, some guilty of truly terrible things, but being a bodyguard for a coddled popstar who can’t even be bothered with basic safety isn’t his idea of a good time.

---

Magnus is a popstar and Alec is his reluctant bodyguard. The bodyguard au in epistolary form. Image-heavy.

HIGHER THAN THE BIG TREES by @carmenlire [ E | AU | 242k | complete ]

Alec loves his job. He’s been touring since he was sixteen. He’s stayed in dozens of countries over the years, learned enough of their languages to get a beer in his hand and a man in his bed. The road is as much his home as the townhouse on the Upper West Side. He’s as comfortable in cheap hotel rooms with scratchy linens and glaring lights as he is in his penthouse that overlooks Central Park with its silk sheets and the constant hum of the city that never sleeps. Alec works hard and that hard work has paid off. He just finished his latest sold-out world tour and by all rights, he should be on top of the world. But the mental pressure of celebrity is getting to Alec and he doesn't trust his footing. He's stuck where most people would kill to be and he just wants to know what his next move should be. Enter Magnus Bane. A history professor at Columbia University, Magnus is content with his friends, his classes, and the occasional warm body in his bed. But he's been feeling stagnant, looking for the next chapter in his life to begin. If only he knew what Alec would bring his way.

THE SECRET OF THE SECRET SANTA by @notcrypticbutcoy [ T | AU | 12.7k | complete ]

As busy doctors with busy schedules, Magnus and Alec have danced around their feelings for each other for years, much to the chagrin of their friends. This Christmas, Simon decides it’s time for an intervention-in the form of a shamelessly rigged secret santa.

Or: In which Simon rigs the secret santa, Magnus and Alec flirt over nerdy doctor things, and are both a little bit oblivious.

RUMOR HAS IT by @lecrit [ M | AU | 12.9k | complete ]

Magnus widens his eyes at him, silently asking him to just give him this one. Alec simply curves one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows in response, a simple gesture that carries the weight of a call for challenge. “Looks like you’re gonna have to postpone your wedding for now,” Maia giggles next to him. Magnus huffs, flexing his jaw. “Oh, it’s on, Lightwood,” he mouths at him.

Or the one where Alec and Magnus are both after the same guy, but end up falling for each other instead.

CIGARETTE by j__writes [ T | AU | 3.1k | complete ]

His relationship with Magnus Bane had been nothing short of frustrating.

Frustrating in the worst of ways. Frustrating in the best of ways.

ABSOLUTELY ABYSMAL by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.8k | complete ]

The first time Alec sees Magnus wearing lipstick he wants to do filthy things to him. Magnus isn't exactly opposed to this.

A ROYAL AFFAIR by j__writes [ M | AU | 38.8k | complete ]

Prince meets professor and it's love at first sight. Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for him, the beautiful professor doesn't know his boyfriend's a prince.

HEAVEN IS A TASTE ON EARTH by @alittlebriton [ T | AU | 20.7k | complete ]

Making a birthday cake for the renowned chef Magnus Bane is a hard enough task – made harder still by the fact his girlfriend doesn’t seem to know Magnus’ likes or dislikes at all. Alec Lightwood, maker of some of the finest cakes in Brooklyn, is up to the challenge, even if he can’t take his eyes off the birthday boy. But as Alec and Magnus grow closer, could it be that the missing ingredient is true love?

LOVE & OTHER DRUGS by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 2k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #1 ]

Rising rockstar Magnus Bane’s life is all about sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll - it's an old cliché, but sometimes the clichés are true. And Alec Lightwood, a bassist from another band, is a drug Magnus can't get enough of - even if he knows that like any drug, he's sinking deeper with every hit he takes, and that this is killing him slowly and painfully.

Because this is just about sex, and Alexander doesn't love him back.

OUR LOVE IS A HARSH CHORD by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 21.9k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #2 ]

Magnus lives in two worlds: one of blinding stage lights and the thunder of the adoring crowd stomping its feet to the rhythm of his music; and one of the darkness offstage, a blur of lonely hotel rooms, one-night stands, drugs, and the sting of whiskey.

Magnus lives in two worlds, both of them stark, bleak, empty - until Alec Lightwood comes along, and everything falls apart.

MELTING MOLTEN by @raininginadelaide [ E | 4k | complete ]

The training scene in the show was their second attempt. The first time, Alec showed even less restraint.

SUPPORT SYSTEM by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 122.8k | complete | Support System #1 ]

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with.

PAGING DR. LIGHTWOOD-BANE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 4.4k | complete ]

Alec scowls. “I’m not on rotation this weekend-- I’m not even on call-- and we decided to make the most out of it.”

“We,” Maia asks, brows inching towards her hair line. “Who’s we?”

“My husband and I,” he mutters and he rolls his eyes as it's like a bomb’s been detonated in the middle of the table.

Simon screeches, “What,” and even Jace and Isabelle are looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re married?”

Or, the one where everybody finds out

TRUTH OR DARE? by @atowncalledmalec [ E | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Two small-town cops, partners, Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane, have somehow pulled desk duty on the graveyard shift. Bored out of their minds and finding a lie detector machine, the chance of winning a $50 bet and being able to ask the questions they've always wanted to ask is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Alec gets a little more than he bargained for though when the machine betrays him at every turn. And so does Magnus.

EVERYTHING I DIDN’T KNOW I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS by @la-muerta [ T | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Alec got his Christmas shopping done months ago - but he should have known that Jace would mess it all up for him. Now he's out braving the crowds on Christmas Eve trying to find a toy that's sold out everywhere for his son, and as it turns out, he's not the only desperate single father out there who will stop at nothing to get his hands on that last toy in the shops.

CERTAIN PERKS by quill_and_ink [ E | 5.5k | complete ]

"You never have to prove yourself to me."

Shadowhunters are being murdered and mutilated. The Clave is getting desperate to find the culprit, but Alec has to believe there's another way. He won't let this end his relationship with Magnus - he refuses to accept that, and he'll do whatever he can to protect them.

Based on the dialogue and actions from "Shadowhunters" Episode 2x13: "Those of Demon Blood"

THE TRUTH UNTOLD by @carmenlire [ not rated | 4.4k | complete ]

Magnus closes his eyes and leans into the feelings that wrap around him. They’re two of the most powerful men in the New York shadow world. It makes his chest ache sometimes, the knowledge that they may never be able to take their relationship public, that he won’t ever be able to kiss Alec on a sunny day in the city, that they can’t hold hands as they walk through Central Park, that whenever they do see each other in public it’s always in an official capacity and they’re relegated to formal greetings while their eyes try to say everything they can’t.

He’d still take this over not having Alec, though. That Magnus knows without a doubt.

ANYTHING YOU SAY by @milominderbindered [ M | AU | 117k | complete ]

Detective Alec Lightwood likes his job. He likes the order of it, likes helping people, likes that he gets to work with Jace and that Izzy is always right downstairs in the morgue too. He's wanted to be a cop ever since he was a kid, just like his parents before him, and now he's living that dream. His life should be perfect.

There's just one problem. Their precinct has just gotten a new forensic expert -- Magnus Bane.

And honestly, he's so cute that Alec's kind of losing his mind.

EMISSARY OF SIN by @insiemes [ M | AU | 97.6k | complete ]

Alec Lightwood, the Clave's top protection agent, is called upon to guard the life of his mortal enemy - one of the world's most notorious hitmen, Magnus Bane.

SHOOT TO KISS by @dantes-wombat [ M | 5k | complete ]

As far as dates go, this one's a bit more weapons-centered than Magnus expected - but also a lot sexier.

IF YOU’VE GOT THE MONEY, I’VE GOT THE TIME by j__writes [ T | AU | 73.4k | complete ]

Alec has made plenty of questionable choices, as Izzy likes to so kindly remind him. Asking Magnus to be his fake boyfriend and then offering to pay him? That, right there, he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. And he wasn’t. But Magnus is really nice and really fucking hot, and if Alec gets to pretend to be his boyfriend then… win - win, right?

ANONYMOROUS by @superficialpeasant [ E | AU | 10.6k | complete ]

When one of Clary’s art exhibition performers drops out last minute, Alec steps in to help. Unfortunately that also means he’ll be having sex with a stranger in public.

DATE NIGHT by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ G | 562 | complete ]

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Alec says. “The angles in pool are just like archery. I have a natural advantage.”

“Pretty sure I beat you the first time we played,” Magnus says, taking a sip of his martini. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, so at home in a relationship.

That is, until Alec started winning.

HARDER THAN THE LIQUOR I POUR by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 6.5k | complete ]

The bartender considers him for a moment before holding out the hand that was over his just a second before. “I’m Magnus, bartender extraordinaire. While I certainly wouldn’t mind calling you pretty boy for the rest of the evening, I think it only fair that you share your name, too. Don’t you?”

Slowly, Alec reaches out and grasps Magnus’s hand in a poor imitation of a handshake. He meets Magnus’s eyes and knows they both know that this is a mere prelude for what’s to come.

“Alec,” he says slowly and watches as Magnus’s smile deepens.

“Well, Alec, my shift ends in an hour. Wait for me?”

CREAM by @ohfreckle [ E | 3.4k | complete ]

Sometimes Magnus likes to wear panties.

“Are you kidding? You look amazing!” Alec wishes he were more eloquent, that he could miraculously find the words and praise to express how fucking hot Magnus is with his little panties on.

SAY IT by @ilovealeclightwood [ E | 4k | complete ]

“I want you,” Magnus pressed his lips to Alec’s neck, the sensation of his lips against the deflect rune making Alec shudder again.

“To admit,” Magnus continued, pausing to run his tongue over the length of the rune, sending sparks of pleasure through Alec and making him try to jerk his hips up again.

“That I was right.” Magnus pulled away from his neck to look down at him and it took a second for what he meant to click with Alec.

---

Or, Magnus and Alec solve petty arguments in a sensable, responsible manner

ALL NIGHT (OR A HUNDRED YEARS) by @hourglassmermaid [ T | 4.3k | complete ]

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Raphael,” Magnus chastises. “You know I take care of my friends.”

Friends. The word stings more than kuri venom; it lingers far longer than any demon attack ever could. It lingers in Alec’s mind when he’s tossing and turning at night imagining what they could have been if Alec hadn’t been such a coward all those years ago. It lingers in his heart whenever they’re alone, and Alec swears he sees a glimmer of those feelings Magnus must have buried long ago. And it lingers in his soul whenever they work together as allies, as leaders, as partners, because they really are compatible in all the ways that count.

But none of that matters, because they’re just friends.

---

Alec and Magnus are colleagues — maybe even friends. Definitely allies. Alec's content, with his life, his career, and even his (lack of) relationships, but sometimes when Magnus sits beside him, Alec may or may not cease to function. It's okay; he's okay.

I SAW PAPA KISSING SANTA CLAUS by j__writes [ G | AU | 3.3k | complete ]

“I heard a noise and so I snuck out. He didn’t see me but I saw him. I saw Santa and then I saw Papa and he kissed Santa, Raf.”

LIKE NOBODY ELSE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 3.7k | complete ]

Simon’s been Alec’s assistant for the past three years. Alec was a hard ass, no doubt about it. He had exacting standards, a perpetually sardonic expression, and Simon had literally never seen the man smile.

Lightwood had exploded onto the scene ten years ago and in that time, he’s made a name for himself that no one else could rival. He might not be well liked but everyone-- even his enemies-- respected Lightwood.

Or, Simon is Alec's secretary and doesn't realize just how little he knows about his boss until he solves a mystery.

SEXY SNAPSHOTS by @tobythewise [ E | AU | 2.8k | complete ]

“Anything interesting on there?” Alec asks, a teasing note in his voice as he nods at the camera. “Anything sexy?" “Not at the moment.” Magnus raises his brow. “Wanna change that?” OR The one where Magnus and Alec explore what it's like to have sexy times while snapping sexy pictures of each other.

PUNDAMENTALS OF OFFICE RIVALRY by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 3.8k | complete ]

When Magnus and Alexander get off on the wrong foot at the start of their internship, Magnus takes it upon himself to annoy Alec at every turn.

WORSE THINGS THAN BEING IN LOVE by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.6k | complete ]

Their wedding was everything they had ever dared to dream of. But perhaps their wedding night was just as special.

CRYPTIDS OF BROOKLYN by @alexanderlightweight [ M | AU | 2.3k | complete ]

For all the rather redundant and overused jokes made about lawyers and sharks, never was such a comparison or joke made concerning Alec Lightwood, as there was one glaring difference between the two ruthless predators.

Sharks smiled, Alec Lightwood didn’t.

ZERO COMPLAINTS by @aemiliafawn [ E | 3.3k | complete ]

Usually when someone wakes Magnus up before sunrise they'd have to face his wrath – however since Alec decides to make it actually worthwhile for the exhausted warlock, Magnus finds he doesn't mind making an exception just once.

HAHA JUST KIDDING... UNLESS? by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 2.5k | complete ]

"You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

TAKE IT EASY by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 18.2k | complete ]

Alec signs up for a session with a professional male dominant, just a one-time thing to satisfy his curiosity. It most definitely doesn't end up being just a one-time thing.

THE LONELY HEARTS HOTLINE by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 40.6k | complete ]

“Hey there,” Alec says in the lowest, sexiest voice he can manage. It sounds vaguely disinterested but some people get off on that.

“Hi,” the voice says.

“Ready to have some fun?”

The voice makes a small, sad noise.

“Or not?” Alec tries hastily. He gets paid regardless of what they're talking about. “We can just chat for a while.”

“What’s your name,” the voice says finally.

“Uh, Chad,” Alec says. He was drunk when he picked his name, just as he was drunk when he answered the job wanted ad. He should have picked something sexy like Tristan, but he’s forever Chad now, the douchiest phone sex operator in history. He balances his bowl of macaroni carefully on his stomach and sneaks a quick bite.

“You don’t sound like a Chad,” the voice says doubtfully.

“Why the hell not?” Alec says before he can stop himself, mouth full of pasta.

“--are you eating?”

“No,” Alec lies and swallows.

---

Alec is a bored phone sex operator. Bafflingly, Magnus just wants to talk about music.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN by @lecrit [ E | AU | 104.3k | complete | To Build A Home #1 ]

When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana to handle his late mother's will, he doesn't expect to be forced to stay there for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the countryside.

It quickly appears that he is going to go through six months of living hell.

The fact that he hates the local veterinarian on sight isn't helping.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN: EXTRAS by @lecrit [ E | AU | 12.6k | complete | To Build A Home #2 ]

A combination of extras for Bright Lights, Small Town.

EARTH’S MIGHTIEST HEROES by @lecrit [ M | AU | 141.9k | complete | Avengers Assemble #3 ]

The thing is… Their plans have a history of not going accordingly so when they finally do, maybe they build a confidence a bit too quickly. Breaking Magnus out turns out to be indeed a formality. Selling the ruby, too. So what could possibly go wrong now?

In which our team of misfits has to deal with the consequences of messing with a dangerous man and again, everything goes according to plan. Or not.

COLOR ME BLUE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 18.8k | complete ]

Christmas is his favorite time of the year but Alec has barely had time to buy presents let alone enjoy the holiday season. December seems to have lasted the blink of an eye and Alec's shoulders hunch as he realizes morosely that most of this year is a blur of emergencies and rounds and consultations.

His gaze snags on a bakery display as he walks past. The window is dressed with multicolored lights and garland wrapping around the edges. The display case is full and Alec’s mouth waters just at the sight.

Without conscious thought, Alec is reaching for the door to Bane's Bakery, eager to see if the interior is just as whimsical and welcoming as the outside.

#malec #malec fic #malec fic rec #malec fanfic #shadowhunters #fic rec #fanfic #otp: look what i have waiting for me

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Division of Labor (4/?)

Summary:

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

So here is the next chapter of division of labor. I had intended to drop it today for a long time. I didn't expect it to coincide with leaks so sorry for the slight mood whiplash.

Anyway, thank you to the anons on tumblr for asking about this fic. I still find it pretty surreal that people actually think about my work, let alone send asks about it.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Having lived alone for all of his high school life and some of his middle school life, Levi was sure of one thing.

Cooking is fun. Except when it is graded.

In fact, nothing can be fun when someone is behind them watching their every move telling them their performance in that one activity can determine a grade and that grade can determine their future. As Levi and Hange surveyed the ingredients in front of them, Erwin was behind them. Of all the workstations he had chosen to hang out in, it happened to be theirs.

As Levi looked at the other workstations, he could see Nanaba to his left already cracking two eggs into a bowl next to Mike. Bertholdt who was working in front of them with his pair Reiner was already cutting up what looked like cheese cubes. To his right was his own pair Hange who was shaking the eggs to her ear.

“Just to check if they’re boiled,” she explained. Levi did not even notice he had given her a judgemental look until she avoided his gaze looking a little self conscious.

Of course they wouldn’t be boiled. They were supposed to be doing everything from scratch. Why did he and Hange in particular look the most clueless? Why weren’t they doing anything? Levi looked behind him again to see Erwin still staring at both of them. I’m not clueless. Levi had to remind himself. He preplanned and prepared meals multiple times a week. He could make anything from the ingredients laid out in front of him. Eggs. Cheese. Celery. Instant noodles.

Why the hell is there instant noodles. What am I supposed to be making?

That ordeal only fueled his hatred for surprise tasks. He hated pop quizzes. Particularly because he had the cursed history of not knowing exactly what would be asked during the actual quizzes but having comprehensive knowledge in another facet of whatever topic they discussed in class. At that moment, he could have gladly given an oral exam about why exactly putting a washing machine in the bathroom was a good idea. Hange probably would have been able to do a practical exam or presentation explaining why a rent-to-own scheme was the best option for homeowners.

Both he and Hange though, probably spent at the most ten minutes running through that meal plan which was biting them so painfully in the ass at that moment. On top of that, the restrictions were ridiculous and unnecessary.

“No checking the recipe?” It was Connie that time towards the front of the room who was protesting the ridiculous restriction put on them. “I thought you’re supposed to be simulating adulthood. In real life everyone could just research the recipes? ”

“What if you don’t have wifi but you have eggs and vegetables in front of you and you need to cook breakfast?” Erwin challenged.

“We’ll have recipe books.” Sasha answered.

Erwin raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the Connie and Sasha pair. “Will your current financial situation allow that?”

Levi found some solace in Erwin’s comment. Maybe, just maybe that meant that they weren’t the only pair currently burning in hell financially in this little game of adulting. He looked to Hange and the face she made as Erwin had said the words `current financial situation’ and “allow” in the same sentence, Levi guessed that Erwin’s comment probably applied to them as a pair too.

“It is important at least for all of you to know the basics of cooking a nice meal even without the recipe.

Levi sighed. He lived alone and he knew they didn’t need it. Levi had a recipe book for easy recipes at home and almost always had wifi anyway. Nobody actually needed to memorize recipes. He was aware though of the culture of schools to know that schools always made things harder than they were supposed to be.

At least when you’re in the real world, things will be so much easier because you’ve had it hard already. Some teachers would defend. Making things unnecessarily hard though wasn’t at all an effective way to get people good at things. Sometimes, making things unnecessarily hard only left students with chronic unresolved tensions with certain formulas, academic concepts and sometimes even mundane objects they had encountered too many times in an academic setting. In fact, he started to feel the beginnings of it when he encountered washing machines and Japanese style house designs while he went grocery shopping that weekend. A few times he also could have sworn he’d seen Hange recoil at hearing the words ‘debit’ and ‘credit.’

“Maybe we should boil the eggs?” Hange lined up the ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Levi asked, or more specifically panicked. Around him he could see the others already turning on the stove. Watching Hange observe the ingredients was only a grave reminder of their own incompetence.

“I’m just trying to arrange the ingredients in different ways. Maybe a good idea will come to mind.” She paused for a second. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Hear me out Hange, what if it isn't scrambled eggs." The ingredients all pointed to scrambled eggs or an omelette. In front of them there was a pan, a skillet, eggs, butter and vegetables. That seemed like the most reasonable option. Having taken tests and quizzes for most of his life though, Levi was a master of the art of ‘doubting one’s self’ in high pressure situations where every decision equated to a deduction. “Why is there a pack of instant noodles?” Whether he had intended to or not, Levi had ended up saying his thoughts out loud.

Hange paused for a second, pressing her thumb to her lips in thought, her eyes completely fixed on the pack of instant noodles in front of her. She looked like she was starting to doubt herself too. “You’re right. Levi, why are there instant noodles? Didn’t you make the meal plan?”

“Didn’t you check it?”

“I did check it. If i remember correctly, there was a recipe for scrambled eggs. But there should have been vegetables.” Hange brought the instant noodles pack closer to her and closely read through it. “Wait a minute. This is chow mein? I thought chow mein was a type of vegetable. Why the hell would you put instant noodles in scrambled eggs?”

Instant noodles and scrambled eggs. For some reason, it hadn’t clicked when all he saw were the ingredients in front of him. With Hange bringing up the two key ingredients of eggs and instant noodles, he started to remember what revisions he had made to that particular recipe. “It’s cheaper to make omelette rice with instant noodles than with actual rice.” He admitted lightly.

“Levi! We’re graded for nutritional value. Did you not read the rubrics?”

Levi looked away. In fact he had failed to read the rubrics. “Weren’t you supposed to be checking my work?

“I did check it.”

“Then why did you think chowmein is a type of vegetable? Aren’t you a fan of botany?”

“Levi there are at least one thousand vegetables to think of. You can’t expect me to keep track of all of them.”

Levi then realized that maybe having too much information in one’s brain was a little disadvantageous. Hange may be right that there are thousands of types of vegetables in the world. Levi was sure though that only at least fifty of those types would have been available in an average supermarket. You don’t really go grocery shopping much do you? A part of him had wanted to criticize her and maybe start a little argument.

The clatter of pots and pans around him and the urgent sounding voices was only telling him one thing, time was running. They had to churn something up or risk failing that quiz. He wished at least he could have double checked the rubrics. Alas, their phones were in their bags, all gathered towards the front of the rooms. All they had armed with them then was their procedural memory and the many ingredients in front of them.

Maybe, just maybe though we could do a little improvisation. Levi made eye contact with Hange as he said it. It looked like she had read his mind, Hange reached out for the instant noodles in front of him, ready to slip the pack silently into her pocket.

“If I find out any of you revised any of your recipes or you miss out on one ingredient, expect a 50% deduction for this test,” Erwin announced from behind them.

Within a second, the pack of instant noodles was back on the table and that flash of understanding between Levi and Hange had changed to one of horror and panic. Did he notice?

“Marco, I really cannot remember why the hell I needed so many of these spices in the first place.” Jean said apologetically from his station to their right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked your mom to make the meal plan in the first place then.” Marco sounded surprisingly pissed.

At least they weren’t the only one in hell’s kitchen.

Division of Labor

By some silent agreement, all meetings with his actual friends were cancelled. It was as if everyone in the room had unanimously decided to make up for that disaster of a kitchen quiz by working on the next deliverable days before it was due. It was as if everyone was sure they had failed Erwin’s little pop quiz

Or long test. Erwin though never gave the breakdown of how much of their grade that disaster in the kitchen was. Levi found some assurance at least in the fact that everyone did look as unsure as they were about it. They can’t fail the whole class right?

Either way, a failing grade is still a failing grade. Levi and Hange had gone for the plan of omelette rice having kept the instant noodles revision. And with nutritional value a 60% of their grade for the actual meal plan, their expectations for their grades were low. On the bright side at least, Erwin said that there would be more pop quizzes in the kitchen, so they just had to memorize the recipe of whatever they put in the meal plan the next time around.

It would be painstaking, Levi was sure. But as students he and Hange had been forced to memorize formulas, kingdoms and phyla, vocabulary words, thesis statements, poems and dialogues. That should be nothing. Levi though had a building resentment for the subject, particularly the fact that no one had prepared them for that type of stress at all. None of the seniors ever had to do this type of program and thus, Levi was completely unprepared mentally for ‘adulting.’

Welcome to adulthood. That was what was written on the top of the questionnaire he and Hange were supposed to be submitting by Friday midnight. It was Wednesday afternoon of that week and he was grateful Hange had even suggested they start earlier. Only that morning, Erwin had submitted a new list of deliverables which seemed more comprehensive than the last.

September*

Week 1

Meal Plan

Investment Plan Part I: Disposable Income

Pop quiz

Week 2

Education Plan for Kids

Module 2 (See attached fail)

Pop quiz

Week 3 - 4

TBA

While Hange answered some of the questions on the questionnaire, Levi could only stare at the module in his email. He had promised Hange he would look into it while she filled out her part of the questionnaire. His eyes though were stuck on the little typo

Fail. He was sure Erwin meant file. In that type of module though, he would consider that typo almost fatal since the whole program was already screaming the words ‘failure’ at him.

He had to note at least that Erwin put the words pop quiz there for every week. He couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that everyone had failed that last cooking exam and that was a sign of some mercy on the teacher’s side.

He clicked the module below the email to find that the file was too large at least for google to open. Oh, I guess it’s too large to open on my phone. It might slow it down after all. A petty excuse but he was just tired and instead decided to entrust the responsibility of opening said document to the Levi of a few hours later who would be in front of an actual computer.

“The file is too big to open on my phone. Sorry, I didn’t think about bringing my laptop today.” Levi’s words weren’t too sincere. A part of him was telling him never to bring his laptop on campus in the first place and was thankful for that bout of irresponsibility. Delaying the inevitable at present is always such a sweet feeling after all.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t too hard to fill out what’s needed. We just needed to assign rooms for Flora and Fauna…” Hange started looking pointedly at the flour babies who were leaning by the window of the diner they started to frequent. “Then break down our budget for other things like furniture, groceries, household necessities…”

She slid the paper over to Levi. As if by magic, his brain just shut down at seeing the numbers out there. A part of him though, a more tenacious part was nagging at him to comment at the computations in front of him.

He focused on the words not the numbers. There were calculations for household necessities like detergent and cleaning wax, groceries, baby stuff, utility bills. Somehow it was only making Levi feel more useless for not even understanding what she was writing.

So you have to comment. Levi willed himself to open his mouth and rack his brain for something reasonable and useful to say. Those thoughts on his end all culminated to two words. “Washing machine... “

“What? You’re still not over that?”

“You really don’t want the washing machine in the bathroom?”

“Levi, we’ve been over this!” Hange said, looking exasperated. Within a split second, her look softened into something else then within a second twisted into what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t think we even have the money to pay for that in installments now. But hey, a washing machine isn’t a necessity right? Like handwashing is still a thing.”

Levi didn’t agree. He knew in the back of his mind that anything that made cleaning easier was a necessity. Hange though had made the calculations and as a form of respect for her hardwork and a punishment for himself and his inability to have been of any use with that questionnaire, he kept quiet.

He just had to trust her. Group works were all about trust after all.

Division of Labor

“Your answers were all a fucking mess. If adulting was a war, none of you would make it back alive. All of you will starve with your shitty planning and resource conserving skills.” Shadis waved a wad of papers so magnificently over his head as he slammed them on the table. “I want to hear your justifications for making such idiotic decisions. Maybe that can bring up your grade to a D at least.”

“Blouse Springer!”

“Yes sir!” Sasha stood up instinctively.

“Connie join your partner!”

“We have to sta---?” Connie’s eyes widened as if he realized a second later the disrespect in what he had just said. He stood up a split second after. “Yes sir!”

“Tell me again. What are your jobs?”

Connie looked at the documents and back at him. “Is what we put in the document… wrong… sir?”

“What. Are. Your. Jobs?”

Sasha and Connie exchanged glances and looked back up at him. “I’m a marketing specialist…” Connie started. “And Sasha---”

“Journalist sir.”

“So you have eight to five jobs right?”

“Yes we do,” Connie answered.

“And three kids?”

The two nodded in sync. “Yes sir,” Sasha said. “Or that’s what I remember…” In fact, she shouldn’t have had to recall that. The three flour sacks were on their desk after all. “Did we miss one?”

Shadis ignored them. “Then why did you tick ‘no babysitter’ here?”

“Are we supposed to tick it sir?” Connie asked. A brave question that had everyone in the classroom more silent than they had been a second ago.

“You have eight to five jobs and three children. So are you telling me you will take the kids to work?

“Are we allowed? The fee for a babysitter everyday just seems… extravagant.”

That wasn’t the right word. The right word was exorbitant. As some of the people in the class would have agreed. Many could see though that Connie was shaking at the incessant questions and that should have been the last of his concerns.

Shadis though seemed unpreturbed at the wrong word choice. “Well what if your boss doesn’t allow you to bring three kids to work?”

“Then we leave them at home?”

“And you know that’s illegal?”

The silence in the room had become deafening.

“You can be sued for child neglect,” Shadis expounded

“But how would they know?” It was a bold question from Connie

The room exploded in hesitant mutters only silenced a second later by Shadis’ eerily cold reply. “Social workers are very perceptive people, Connie. I’m surprised you’re even underestimating them. Be ready to pay attorney dues for this.” He wrote something on the paper on his desk which was probably Connie and Sasha’s submission before pushing it to the bottom of the pile.

“Next pair…Ackerman Zoe. Stand up.”

By lunchtime, Levi was in a trance, a very strong strance. He did not even notice the students who had filed out of the classroom for lunch, his eyes completely fixed on the beautiful view of the school courtyard as the leaves started to change color.

That was not what he was admiring though. He wasn’t actually admiring anything. Although his eyes were fixed at such a beautiful view, his brain had done nothing to process it.

“So… You wanna talk about the next output?” That familiar voice sounded like a screech to Levi and it was more than enough to pull him out.

“We are so fucked.” Levi’s words were almost instinctive. It was as if just hearing Hange’s voice sent his whole body into panic mode. Of course he would, having just been grilled by Shadis and having one’s incompetence exposed could do that to anyone.

“There’s an output every week. We’ll be fine,” Hange assured.

Levi could only stare at Hange. He had know idea what kind of face he was making. All he could think then though was the fact that she out of the two of them should have been in a worse state of panic than he was.

And her calm ironically only stressed him out further. Having been reeling from the stress of it for almost four hours, Levi still remembered their exchange perfectly.

"Okay Ackerman… Just a homemaker. And Zoe. You’re working freelance?

"So Levi and I decided that I'll be a scientist and he'll take care of the house," Hange had said so confidently.

"What about taxes?"

“Taxes?”

“I looked at the breakdown of your budget Zoe. You didn’t mention anything about taxes.”

“I’m freelance sir.”

“Zoe, has it ever occured to you that freelancers pay taxes too?”

And their lesson of the day came soon after that exchange. The tasks were detailed and demanded a lot of thought. Through all they had learned over that one painful exchange and maybe through the glimpses of the next few exchanges he had so half heartedly watched, he had learned a lot.

He could have easily summarized it all into one sentence though. Do not take Erwin's tasks with a grain of salt.

Erwin had thought everything through. It could have been by coincidence or it could have also been just a lack of thought on the side of the students but somehow the set up Erwin had was exposing the weaknesses of the students when it came to learning, and possibly their potential weaknesses when it comes to actual adulting.

"I’m deducting the taxes already."

"You heard Shadis, It's too late the hypothetical government is out to get us.” Levi added the word hypothetical to at least help himself bask in the fact that it was still a simulation. “We’re getting penalized.”

Hange smiled wryly. “Fine, we’re kinda financially… going through a rough patch,” She admitted. “But we’re not the only ones going through this type of financial bump. Eren and Mikasa, Sasha and Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt, Petra and Oluo…” Hange trailed off. “I mean okay Armin and Annie looked like they were doing fine but back in the supermarket, they looked kinda confused too.”

“A failing grade is a failing grade.”

“But Levi, they can’t fail the whole class.” Hearing that Hange was somehow very reassuring.

Hange was right. Teachers can’t fail a whole class and Levi was aware of two methods teachers tend to employ when dealing with an underperforming class: employ a curve or give extra credit.

Levi should have known though from his short yet very tumultuous few weeks with that adulting program that a curve would have seemed a little too merciful for their teachers.

With the uncomfortable look Erwin gave the class, Levi was sure at least a majority of the class had fucked up financially. How exactly, he was unsure.

Right after they had finished their own mini oral exam, Levi had fallen into a trance. A trance, trying to think up a back up life just in case he never manages to graduate high school or make it to college.

Misery though loves company. Especially when it’s a whole class failing. Levi was not the type to want to wish misfortune on anyone else. Being as completely idiotic and dense as he and Hange were though, Levi found himself grateful for the unfortunate situation the class found themselves in,

“It looks like a lot of you are struggling financially. Zeke and I had a quick talk about this actually…”

Levi’s blood ran cold at the name, Zeke. At that point, he didn’t know if he hated Zeke or he hated Math. Looking back at Zeke’s unfavorable personality, he was guessing probably both.

“And we realized it would be beneficial if we introduce the possibility of finding other sources of income which would be a good lesson in financial management.”

There were some sighs of disappointment among the class. Levi empathized. In fact, he probably would have joined them as well if he weren’t so jaded by the course of events already. Still, a small part of him had hoped as well that they would just raise their salaries.

That was the equivalent of a curve though and Levi somehow knew, grading on the curve was just not Erwin’s style.

“So I am introducing two options to increase your income. One is through investments which will be taught by Zeke another day and another one is through this ‘new system’ I thought out.” Erwin looked a little too proud of that ‘new system.’

“We will be offering extra tasks you may choose to take around the school, these include cleaning, admin tasks, lab work and anything else the teachers may need help done. Each task will have a corresponding pay which can be added to your income for that month.”

So it’s exploitable free labor. Levi thought to himself. He was sure he wasn’t the only one thinking of that. Everyone in the room was desperate though. In the end, despite the questionable set up, it had come out looking like a gesture of generosity from their teacher. Levi saw that in the way a lot of the students around him looked relieved to hear that announcement.

“Or we can just choose to budget within our means?” Annie spoke up from her place on the front next to Armin. She was notably calmer than a lot of people in the room. Levi had suspected for a while though that Armin and Annie weren’t in as much trouble financially.

“I’m sure though a lot of you would want to earn more money,” Erwin said, a knowing smile on his face. “You can exchange these for this thing I will be introducing called ‘disposable income tokens’ and if you collect enough, you can get a free ticket out of doing one of the modules or the pop quizzes of the week of your choice.”

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Who do you save, John? (Bit 6)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5a | Bit 5b | Bit 6

It is so nice to be able to just sit and write without having to rush off to work ::sighs contentedly:: Having said that, man, this fic is tense. I don’t need caffeine, writing this has me strung tighter than a bow. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Blood (but nothing major)

For @5hadow-alpha cos they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. You got more than one, and I got more than I expected. Fic isn’t quite out of control, but wow, it is going places I did not expect in the process.

-o-o-o-

Alan’s arm hurt like hell.

But he wasn’t paying it any attention.

At some point Gordon had edged just a little closer, just enough to brush up against his hand. It was a simple reassurance and Alan could appreciate it.

But Alan’s attention was caught between Virgil and John.

Dad was holding his stricken brother like a child.

Alan could hear each struggling breath from here. There was too much blood on the carpet.

Far too much.

He itched to help Virgil. To save him.

But he couldn’t.

Time was slipping through the blood drying on his fingers.

It made him want to scream.

He couldn’t even do that.

So, he turned his attention to John.

His space brother stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room attempting to blast their assailant with his eyes.

John had always been the quiet one, the odd one out of their five. Sure, Virgil had his own brand of quiet, but John’s was as solitary as the stars he chased.

Alan had always admired him. Despite being different from the rest of the family, John never apologised for it. Alan suspected that somewhere in their eleven year age gap, something had happened to his star brother that had wrought the steel under that facade. Perhaps forced him to accept himself the way he was and leverage the advantages.

In any case, John was John and Alan loved him for it.

The fact they were both technically geniuses didn’t hurt either. They shared smarts at least. But while John sought energy from solitude, Alan was much more energised by people. He could operate alone, but he preferred to be with others.

And he loved being with John.

Okay, it was hero worship. Just a little. He had to admit it. After all, John lived where Alan wanted to explore. John knew so much and they could speak space for hours.

And had many times when Alan was little, laid out on the grass in their backyard, staring up at a clear night.

John may have preferred to be alone, but he always had time for Alan. Now, as an adult, Alan could appreciate that gift his brother had given him so many times, so much more.

“John.” Scott was vibrating in his corner, eyes darting between Virgil and John even more than Alan’s. “I think-“

“Nobody cares what you think, Commander. You’re not in charge here.”

“Timothy, or whatever the hell your name is, this has gone far enough.”

The gunman arched an eyebrow at Alan’s father. “So, you think you’re in charge, too. Honestly, do you idiots even realise the power your brother has?” His eyes latched onto Alan’s father. “How you’ve gifted him the ability to play god? Neither of you are in charge. So, shut up or I’ll shoot the both of you.”

“But that would ruin your test, wouldn’t it?” John’s voice was ice calm and just as cold.

Timothy turned back to Alan’s space brother. “Maybe you are as smart as they say you are, Voiceman.” A glare. “Now choose.”

John’s eyes flicked around the room, catching each of his brother’s and his father’s.

A groan from Virgil. “No…” And the engineer was attempting to sit up.

“Virgil, stay still!” The words fell sharply from Alan’s lips and were backed up by the rest of his family as their father tried to hold him back.

“Oh, for the love of-! Don’t any of you know how to shut up?!” Timothy took several steps closer to Alan’s fallen brother. The gun pointed directly at Virgil. Painfilled eyes stared up at the man. Timothy’s finger twitched. Alan opened his mouth to scream.

On the far side of the room, John’s tablet, put aside while he changed clothes, let off a chime. “John, are you dressed yet? Can I see?”

Eos.

Alan’s heart lurched as John didn’t hesitate. “Eos! You are the Dawn!” His space brother knocked the gun aside and the whole room jumped as it went off, digging a hole in the floor beside Virgil’s foot.

The tablet pinged acknowledgement.

Timothy whipped around and grabbed John. John was taller, but Timothy obviously had strength and training and before Gordon or Scott could take more than one step forward, John’s arm was wrenched behind his back, bending him awkwardly, and the gun shoved at his throat.

“What did you do?!”

A brief flicker of pain passed over John’s face before that familiar calm settled again. “What I always do – what has to be done.” He groaned as Timothy yanked harder on his arm and with one shot, narrowly missing Gordon, destroyed John’s tablet with a bullet.

“John…” Virgil’s voice was whisper quiet and ending in another groan.

“Virgil!” His father admonished the prone engineer, but Virgil was inconsolable, struggling against his hold.

Timothy ignored them, jamming the gun so deep into John’s throat, the astronaut choked. “Choose, you asshole! Who lives and who dies, or this building comes down on all of us now!”

-o-o-o-

“Eos! You are the Dawn!”

The words hit her hard.

Emergency level threat.

John and/or his family members were in danger and in need of her assistance.

Her response was immediate.

She flooded the building’s digital infrastructure with herself, clawing through the optical cables seeking as much information as she could gather.

John’s tablet gave her a little, but its signal died almost immediately. Its camera was useless, but its microphone gave her just enough to hear her father’s voice before it cut out.

Her father was in pain.

A tendril shot out across the other side of the world and alerted Kayo.

The security officer swore, dropping her suspect as Eos pulled a sitrep from the scene.

Communications within the suit shop had been manually severed and cloaked. Her assessment earlier had been passive. Now active and aware of the issue she was able to dig beneath the benign code to find programs running that were absolutely not.

Why had John forbidden her from prying?

An alert was sent to Lady Penelope’s residence. A full status feed churning through the connection.

Eos’ electric fingers sliced through alien code and disrupted it, triggering an alert to IR security.

Kayo was already alerting Gerald, chief officer on site. IR security moved.

Except for one.

Eos’ eyes were everywhere. Lightning fast she pinpointed each member of the team as each responded to Gerald’s update and command to report.

The man outside the door. The man trusted to stand guard on the Tracys. His vitals reported elevated heartrate and he was refusing to acknowledge commands.

Thunderbird S was nearing a redline as the craft tore across the Atlantic.

FAB1 was airborne, Parker swearing colourfully.

And still the security officer did not respond.

She infiltrated his comms, pulling recordings. She pulled video from cameras. Faster than any human, she pulled his history, his recent activity, his recent movements.

She watched him meet with one of the tailors’ assistants two weeks earlier. There was no recording of conversation, but there was a data trail.

She tore through the assistant’s personal computing devices.

The protection written into his files was professional and a challenge. He wasn’t any kind of assistant at all.

While simultaneously gathering information from the disabled security system, updating Kayo and Penelope, and burrowing through electrical infrastructure desperate to find a connection of any kind with John or any of his brothers, she identified Timothy Wilson, ex-marine, millionaire as the ‘tailors’ assistant’ who had spoken to Anthony of IR security two weeks earlier and passed on a computer program and what was likely a plan that resulted in the blackout of communications she was currently battling.

The camera in the foyer focussed sharply on the man whose heart was now redlining almost as much as Thunderbird S’ engines.

Spread across so many systems, multitasking with the sole aim to locate and secure her father, she stared down at this man who had obviously betrayed him.

Kayo was yelling at her as she crossed the coastline of England.

But Eos was the Dawn.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Eos #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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sagemoderocklee · 3 years

Photo

2020 has been a weird fucking year, to put it mildly. There have been a lot of ups and downs, and with New Year’s Eve and the start of 2021 upon us, focusing on the ~positive~ seemed like a better way to end the year, and hopefully start 2021 feeling inspired and proud for overcoming this horrendous year.

For many people, it was difficult--even impossible--to get anything done this year (myself included), and that’s okay! But if you were able to make progress on writing projects, even if it was just one or even if it was just part of one, you should celebrate that! I wish I’d thought of this sooner and organized it better, but regardless I wanted to celebrate my own accomplishments with regards to my writing, and encourage others to do the same! I was going to tag people, but I’m not sure with it being 2 hours til midnight for me if that would feel like putting too much pressure on others, so if you want to do this too please do!

This wrap up is honestly just a self-indulgent look back on the works I’ve made and what I learned/gained from each, maybe what I don’t like about them, some totaling on what I did, and some resolutions for the next year. It’s silly, but I think it’s kinda fun and if you missed any of the things I have posted this year, you’ll find them here!

2020 Fic Wrap Up:

Kado: Parts II+III (COMPLETED)

Kado was started in September of 2019 for the @puregaalee summer event. This was a last minute thing that I started the day the prompt was due and managed to write the first part in about 6 hours while sitting in a cafe--remember that? Sitting in cafes? Man, I miss that. I hadn’t anticipated working on Kado, but I decided that I was going to finish it this year, and I’m honestly amazed that I did. This fic is sweet and fun, and surprisingly popular, though it isn’t my favorite of my works. However, it is a light, fluffy little romcom modern AU, and I learned a lot with it because despite my struggles with modern AUs and their horrible lack of political intrigue, this fic forced me to work within set parameters. I was only writing a 3 part story, and each part could only be 9 scenes long. For those unfamiliar, kado is another term for Ikebana, and in Ikebana there are specific elements to follow. Certain styles will only use three branches, some will use nine. So my goal was for the structural elements of the fic to mimic Ikebana. In doing this, I was able to do something I don’t usually do, which is keep this story more concise.

I’m still not sure how I personally feel about the ending, but I think endings are always a struggle, especially with something like this.

Gate of Dreaming (COMPLETED)

This is a fic that I started last year, then left to sit untouched with only 2k words. Getting back into it was a bit difficult because I was writing something very different from my usual: stream of consciousness. This fic was very experimental for me not only because of the stream of consciousness, but also because of the changing tenses. This was another exercise--unexpected though it was--in brevity. With this particular story, it couldn’t be dragged on and on, because--despite the 100 year time span--the events take place within the Infinite Tsukuyomi. This was also the first time I’d worked from Lee’s PoV in quite some time, so that was fun because I do enjoy writing him, but usually write from Gaara’s PoV. This is definitely one of my favorites from this year, and since it had been sitting on the back burner for so long, I’m so excited that I could finally get it done.

Another one where the ending really wasn’t easy to achieve, but I did end up liking it more than I expected, and I think the best thing is that it’s open-ended which leaves room for others to guess at what the future holds.

It Eats Your Heart (WIP)

This was an unexpected fic for me in every way imaginable. Starting another fic? Making another modern AU? Tackling the horror genre? None of those were things I’d planned to do this year, but lo and behold, that’s just what I did. I really enjoy a good bit of horror, but it is NOT an easy genre to work within, and this fic has definitely been a push for me. But with it being such a push, the payoff is far more. Stepping out of my comfort zone is something I like doing, but I think this is the biggest step outside of that and I am so incredibly proud of how that first chapter turned out because of it. I was really able to surprise myself with this fic, and I am hoping to update the next chapter early on in the year.

Absolution (WIP)

This fic is probably the second oldest idea/longest unpublished fic I currently have up. Formerly a much longer title, the idea for this fic came to me in May of 2017 when a friend, @brianadoesotherjunk / @brianadoesart, posted a piece of GaaLee fanart that sparked inspiration. The fic took off, morphed into something much bigger than the one scene depicted by the art, and now 3 years later, the first part is up. Initially, this was meant to be a long shot, but after sitting with this for so long, I realized that I needed to split it up into 9 parts, which allowed me to use this for GaaLee bingo and finally publish it. Much of the first part was already written before this year, but I’d been quite stuck on it until now. This is actually probably one of my favorite GaaLee concepts to date. I remember back in the day, there weren’t a lot of different takes on getting Lee to Suna so he and Gaara could fall in love, so (at the risk of sounding cocky) I think that Lee as a nanny is rather inspired. I think with this fic, I pushed myself the hardest to get past the hurdle of writer’s block and accepted that publishing is probably the best way to motivate myself to keep going. The feedback for this fic has been really motivating, so I think I’m probably right about that.

I do think there are some parts in the middle or towards the end that could maybe use some tightening up, but I’m just happy to finally have this fic out in the world.

The Art of Love: Chapter 11 (WIP)

TAoL is such a ridiculous labor of love. The chapters for this fic are novellas in and of themselves, so each time I update it takes a lot of work to get them out. This fic is one of those like magnum opus type fics. I have put so much into it, and I’m honestly amazed that it’s only been up for 3 years because I’m approaching the halfway mark on it, and I don’t think I expected to be there by now. Despite being able to churn out 30k chapters, I have a hard time focusing on one thing and I often struggle with mental health related writer’s block, so big works are always sort of sporadic in their updates.

This particular update of TAoL was definitely one of my favorites though. Initially, I didn’t plan to go the sort of dark fantasy rout that I did with Shikamaru, but I actually really love what I’ve done with him, though I worry others won’t be as into it or that the execution isn’t quite there. One thing I would like to work on with future chapters of TAoL, however, is maybe pairing things down a bit--though I’m not sure that’ll always be possible. The next chapter is a Naruto PoV chapter, though, so I expect that one to be a MUCH shorter chapter than the last three and should be able to get it out sometime next year.

Before I could publish this chapter, however, I did go through and make some big changes, which is something I often struggle with because of such long breaks in between working on certain projects. I will say, though, that TAoL continues to push me to greater heights as a writer, and I look forward to actually finishing this fic someday.

Thirteen Strokes: 1 + 2 (WIP)

Another unexpected fic this year, however, this one was actually an idea for about a year, unlike IEYH. This fic has really given me a lot of perspective on my own writing and world building, and has inspired me to sit down and really start committing the things I’ve developed to paper to create a cohesive view of Suna, Wind, and the shinobi world. This fic is meant to be a Romance. Like just full on Romance. I write a lot of tragedy and focus on a lot of darker themes in my writing, so while I don’t think of this as stepping outside of my comfort zone, it is very different from my usual, and a really nice change of pace. I think, in all honesty, it is one of my best works, and I do hope I can continue to deliver on the remaining 11 parts of this story.

if this were the last i felt you breathing (COMPLETED)

Ugh. This fic has been my enemy for 2 long years. I signed up for a Secret Santa exchange, and of course, I regretted doing it when I found that I was not motivated and, after the month of October where I was churning out fic after fic for GaaLee Bingo, that I was massively burned out. I wasn’t able to think past writer’s block, and so I ended up settling on dusting off an old, unfinished piece for my giftee, and I hope they can forgive me for not coming up with something brand new for them.

This fic was a struggle. Working so closely with the canon--following the Rescue Kazekage Arc as closely as I did for this fic--made this a much bigger challenge and this fic sat and sat and sat for two years, untouched and incomplete. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I know it’s not my best work, but I am glad that this fic isn’t hanging over my head and that I was able to deliver something to my secret santa giftee.

My goal with this fic was to rewrite this particular arc from Lee’s PoV to give more depth to the arc and shift the emotional core of it away from Naruto. Naruto as a character has a lot of flaws that never get addressed, and one of the things that is consistently frustrating for me is the way the emotional core of the series rests on him in unrealistic and often superficial ways. Naruto hasn’t spoken to Gaara in three years, but I’m supposed to believe he’s this affected by Gaara’s kidnapping? Temari and Kankuro are right there! Lee is right there! I wanted to see that, so that’s what I set out to do, and ultimately I don’t think I fully succeeded, but I tried. I guess not everything can be a resounding success

---

This year I managed to do a lot more than I realized. New works, updates, and COMPLETED pieces?! I never would have thought, but staying home gave me more free time, and when I was too broke to work on costumes, writing fanfiction was something free I could do.

Total new works: 5 Total updates: 9 Total completed works: 3 Total words this year: 143,587

---

I have a lot of goals for the coming year, and I know I won’t make all of them, but that won’t stop me from trying.

2021 Writing Resolutions:

Reach 1million words (+238,073 words)

Finish IEYH

Finish Pearl-Filled Lungs

Update TAoL (Chapter 12 and 13)

Update Absolution

Update 13S

Update Find Me (Chapter 6)

Start the Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Start editing Alliance

Return to working on Honor Bound

Return to working on We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips

#naruto fanfiction #gaalee #naruto #shippuden #gaara #rock lee #fanfiction 2020 wrap up #fanfic year in review

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novantinuum · 4 years

Text

Contact (ch. 1/4)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depiction of vomiting, this first chapter is pretty whump-esque)

Words: 3.0K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

So this fic is Steven and Amethyst centric, set during the 2 year time skip. It’s also kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss, and explores the idea of what could happen to a hybrid with a cracked gem. Do note the warnings above. The first chapter is the only one that’s especially whumpy. It will be exactly 4 parts.

AO3 link can be found in the reblogs! Support there or here (via reblogs) is very much appreciated! <3

____

Chapter 1: The Mission

The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

His birthday’s only half a week out. Exciting as always, or at least it would be in other circumstances. Unfortunately, the Diamonds are breathing down his neck for him to celebrate his sweet sixteen (not that they understand what that is) on Homeworld. Even unfortunatelier, (is that a word?? He has a gut feeling Connie would tell him no, but oh well), the last time he saw Blue Diamond face-to-face, she mentioned wanting to personally throw a huge planet-wide ball in his honor.

And yeah, maybe he’s a little selfish for spurning their desire to spend more time with him, but truth be told, the center of attention is the last place he wants to be right now. He’s already spent so much time in their company over the past year, being carted around from planet to planet, formerly introduced in front of thousands of Gems on those outer colony worlds, tirelessly working to spread the news of the empire’s dissolution day in and day out. He’s tired. He misses his friends. He craves the privacy of his home, where he’s not constantly flanked by the volunteer guard when he so much as moves to fetch a midnight snack. More than anything, he needs familiarity. He wants to celebrate his birthday on Earth— like he always has— guilt-free.

Which is why it sucks that Blue didn’t take his gentle turn-down well.

“Seriously, and then she made you cry again?!” Amethyst spits out, kicking a rock as they tromp through the dense woods. “I thought you said she was getting better with that!”

“She is,” he says, and ducks to clear a low branch. “This is the first time she’s done it in like, five months. Growth isn’t always linear, y’know? And I get it, I do. They just wanna spend time with me, wanna learn more about all the human stuff that makes me who I am. That’s fine! I just...”

Steven sighs softly and pauses to lean against a sturdy tree trunk, puffy moss coating its entire diameter. The blistering summer heat coaxes droplets of sweat from his brow, which roll across cheekbones and towards his jaw. (And in the wake of this, he can’t help but be reminded of that bizarrely foreign feeling, of crying tears that aren’t his own, without consent, without resolve...)

“Wish it didn’t happen right before your birthday?” she tentatively completes, tone softer.

He shrugs, expression guarded.

Her lips purse as she regards him, and she goes silent. For a split second he wonders if maybe she heard something stalking around nearby— perhaps one of the straggling corrupted Gems they‘re trying to track down today? But no, more than likely, she’s probably lost in thought. That’s not uncommon for her, outside the heat of the moment. Even though she has the reputation of being the most impulsive of the four of them, there’s a clear deliberateness about her nature that often goes unstated. Her actions and words may be blunt, but when it really matters she does stack a lot of intent behind them.

Heh. She’s the mature one, alright.

“What did you tell her? Specifically?” she asks after a brief pause, peering at him with a careful eye.

He squints, grasping to remember the fine details of what he said. “Just... that I normally spend my birthday with all of you here on Earth, and after all the nonstop planet touring kinda, maybe wanted to take some time alone?”

Amethyst nods, giving a sharp bark of laughter at this.

“Hah! Then don’t worry about it, m’dude! Sounds to me like you stood your ground and spoke your mind. Don’t be guilty about that for even a second.”

“But- it’s not like her wanting me to spend time with them is wrong, so by turning her down, wasn’t I being kinda ru—“

His rapidly spiraling thoughts are cut off at the root by a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, listen,” she says in that unmistakable ‘Serious Amethyst’ voice of hers, which of course means that she’s— well... that she‘s absolutely 100% being serious. “One thing ya’ gotta learn is that some people are just super tiring to deal with 24/7. It’s not wrong to set boundaries with them. All this junk? With Blue D? Far as I’m concerned, you handled it perfectly! And if she wants to cry about it, then that’s her problem.” Smiling, she reaches over to playfully muss his hair. “I’m super proud of you, ‘kay?”

He responds with a weak grin. Inwardly he still has his doubts, but he knows all too well that trying to argue against her when she’s in ‘Serious Amethyst’ mode is like standing on the shore trying to single handedly hold back the tides of the sea. Even a powerful terraforming Gem like Lapis would eventually be worn down by the ocean’s ceaseless tenacity. It’s best, then, to keep one’s objection silent.

So he’ll just stew in guilt quietly, no problem. Absolutely no problem here, no siree!

Before he can let that stew churn in the pot any longer however, a tree crashes to the forest floor with a colossal rumble nearby. A cluster of unsettled birds shoot into the sky from the boughs. Ground shaking under the unrest, the two of them dart to cling upon anything they can— bark covered trunks, each other— for balance. Thankfully it’s over in a few seconds, the local ecosystem quickly rebounding to its usual chittering atmosphere. But there’s now a lingering unease hanging like a curtain over this forest, a physical aura of dread, and despite his best efforts it’s one he can’t manage to ignore. He lets out a still breath. The back of his neck prickles. Geeze, just how big is this corrupted Gem they’re after?

Instinctively, he summons his shield, brings it in front of his torso. Pearl’s training echoing like a catchy earworm in his mind, he steps one foot back to widen his stance. Truth be told, with all of his political service on Homeworld it’s been a while (easily half a year!) since he’s actually used his shield in active combat— but he’s sure muscle memory will carry him through. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. It’s gotta be like riding a bicycle, right?

“You see something?” she whispers, lowering on her haunches. Her fingers twitch with anticipation at her side.

His brow furrows tight, eyes skittering through the visible tree line. “Not yet, but...”

Then, in a resolute answer to the question of the hairs raised at the nape of his neck, a skinny blur of steely blue and moss green suddenly swipes down from the branches at breakneck speed. He jerks his shield over his head in a flash.

Clang. Perfect timing.

(The force of the collision against reinforced hard light sends vibrations up his arms.)

Meanwhile, Amethyst yelps, only barely ducking from the spiked tail in time. She somersaults forward and immediately summons her whip as she regains her footing. In one fluid motion she snaps it at the rapidly moving blur. He grins at the sight.

Contact!

The corrupted Gem— her body long and willowy, able to skitter between limbs and leaves with zero effort whatsoever— screeches at the assault. All four of her beady eyes hone in on the pair of them.

They square up for battle, standing back to back.

“Here we go,” Amethyst says, flicking her wrist to switch the weapon’s tri-ended tip into its spiked counterpart. “Keep me covered. Whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off the trees.”

With a mighty yell, she moves to attack again. However, the creature anticipates it this time... and dodges.

Once. Twice. Thrice...

Every single lash she tries to land fares the same, with the Gem perfectly zig-zagging out of range at the last second. Even when Steven hurls his shield in coordination with her offensive strikes. Even when the quartz brings out a second whip to the party. It’s like trying to desperately keep hold of a wet bar of soap. The very moment you think you have it secure in your grasp, it slips away once more. Weird... he swears that thing is predicting their every move. What kind of Gem is she? A sapphire, maybe? Surely there had to have been a few other sapphires on Earth at the time of corruption. They’re a rare sort, but it’s certainly not impossible. Not at all.

They’ll know when they poof her, of course. No sense fixating on it in the heat of battle.

In the corner of his eye he catches that barbed tail swing from above, vying to surprise them from their blind spot, and summons his bubble around them. Its surface ripples upon impact, but holds strong. His fellow battle partner follows the creature’s erratic movements rapturously as she recovers.

“Tell me when,” he huffs for breath, watching the Gem circle around them and slash at the surrounding trees in a vain attempt at intimidation.

“Drop on three,” she says. “Your call.”

“Okay...”

Steven steels his nerves, inhaling deep, and focusing on the reliable hum of hard light running from his core outwards. Just relax. It’s all training. All stuff you’ve done a million times before. You’ve got this.

Working off the emerging rhythm of the creature’s strikes, he begins his count.

“One—“

Amethyst’s fists clench tighter.

“Two...”

The creature’s tail slams against the bubble and rebounds once again.

“Three!” he shouts, and throws his arms out, popping the bubble in a startling explosion of glittering pink.

The Gem howls. She’s thrown against a cluster of trees by the force of his magic’s kickback. Amethyst throws all of her energy into her spin-dash, and surges towards her with all the strength of a typhoon.

He summons two shields in turn, working light on his feet as he hurls them full force one after the other, desperately hoping to poof this poor creature as quickly and painlessly as he can manage. She’s strong, though. Incredibly strong— which gives more credence to his theory of this Gem being aristocratic in origin. Before Era 3, Homeworld used to endow the most ‘important’ Gems with greater durability. If she were a corrupted quartz or ruby, both easily poofed Gems, they’d have finished the fight by now.

“Hey!” Amethyst calls as she continues on the offensive, finally looping the Gem’s torso. “All this?” She gives a mighty battle cry, and swings her slender, scaly body over her head. Screeching, the corruption crashes headfirst into the dirt a good twenty feet away. “Is starting to get way too annoying. Ya’ wanna let Smoky take this one?”

Steven gives a playful laugh, averting his normally watchful gaze from the creature for a split second to face her. “You bet I do!”

And that’s when what should have been an incredibly straightforward mission goes very, very wrong.

All because he forgot to be careful. For one tiny, should’ve-been-insignificant moment.

He’s reaching out for a high five, fingers splayed outwards. His gem glows, the two of them so intrinsically in sync by now that he’s already anticipating their fusion.

But his hand never finds its match.

Instead, the end of the corrupted Gem’s mace-like tail swings back around and slams into his gut with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind clear out of him.

Contact.

Following momentum, his body spins a good hundred feet away from Amethyst before she can ever try to catch him with her whip... and he crashes headfirst into a startlingly solid tree trunk. He falls to the forest floor like nothing more than an abandoned rag doll.

“Steven!!” she shrieks from afar.

Ears ringing. Head pounding. Heart throbbing. Veins pumped full of static.

(Inhale.)

H-he- surely he‘s not—!

(Just inhale!)

Black feathers the edges of his vision, looming like a reaper. It’s wrong. It’s real, but it’s all so distant, so wrong. Stubbornly, he gasps for breath. Refusing to let himself go unconscious. Not here, not now. But it’s so tempting, gosh is it tempting. His whole body feels numb and battered, his whole body feels...

There’s a twisting in his gut. His eyes shoot wide.

Oh...

The sensation (again, wrong, sickly and wrong) rises in his throat faster than he can identify it by name, and it’s then that he’s thrown back into sobering reality. Arms quivering to hold up his weight, he pushes his upper body up off the dirt just before he retches. Once, twice, three times- all on quick succession. Ugh. So much for breakfast. His muscles ache as he desperately attempts to recover, attempts to shift his view away from the appalling sight of his own vomit. Everything is woozy, blurred, spinning around him. His- oh stars, his head is suddenly as heavy as lead...! Where’s Amethyst?? Why do his arms and legs feel all tingly and faint? Why can he only barely lift himself up? He gives a keening cry as a pulsing throb of static shoots in staccato bolts like lightning from his very core, his center, h-his— he can’t think, he can’t think, he can’t—

Breathing ragged, he collapses onto his side and rides through the spasms, his every muscle jerking against his command. His cheek sags against the ground once the fit reaches its end.

He lays there in a daze for a good long while, letting his vision grow unfocused and blurred in his exhaustion. From his creased brow, sweat drips in the sweltering August heat, staining the soil below. Conflict rages on in the distant background— Amethyst running solo?— yet he can’t keep track of the action by sound alone. It’s... too much sensory input. More than he can handle, by a long shot. Every bit of his universe now is faint and weak and pain pain pain pain pain, but he manages to shift his arm just enough to slip his hand under his shirt, blindly grasping for his gem... working off a terrible, horrifying hunch.

Shaking fingers find their way to warm crystal, tracing the outer edges, and then—

He traces a deep gouge, running diagonal clear across the center facet.

Cracked.

And with that realization, any remnant of calm he had left flies straight out the window. Another spike of static rips through his body (fuzzy images of Amethyst, 100% hard light body glitching out and unable to hold its shape, pervade his mind) as he makes rapid shallow gasps for air and seizes, trying in vain not to think too hard about what’s physically happening to him.

(I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m—)

“Steven!” Amethyst shouts, diving to his side in an instant. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m so sorry, it wasn’t safe, an’ I knew I had to bubble her before I- ‘fore I could—“

His wide eyed fear silences her even faster than his words. “H- Amethyst,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He blinks as tears begin to slip from between his lashes.

Near indistinguishable blurs of purple and black are his only metric for her movement now. He’s rolled onto his back. A hand moves under his head, stabilizing it.

“Whoa, dude, you’re like, pale as milk! What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?? Can’t you heal it?”

He somehow manages to push coherent words through his warbling cries. “I, I- I dunno, I’m c- cracked, I’m—“

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re WHAT?”

Giving no thought to courtesy in light of the situation, she yanks his shirt up to see for herself.

He hears her inhale as her fingers delicately brush against the gouge marring the center facet of his gem. It’s sharp, sympathetic. The kind of reaction only a Gem who’s lived this horror could offer him. Ever so slight, her hand recoils upon the no-doubt triggering sight. He— stars, he doesn’t wanna... doesn’t want to have to make her remember that, remember that awful time she herself got cracked, but here he is, so clumsy, s-so useless, an—

His chest trembles with every pitiful, bubbling gasp as he succumbs to the terror of the situation and begins to openly sob. Hot, fat tears pour in rivulets down his cheeks, but he knows instinctively there‘s no magic within them. Not today. Not when h-he’s... when he’s like this.

What’s even gonna happen to him now? How’s he gonna— Deep breath. This time, he feels it coming. Every muscle in his body contracts on automatic as that awful, awful static tears through his nerves like an arc of electric current.

It hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts—

Amethyst does her best to lightly hold him as he seizes, cradling his head to ensure no more damage is done. When he stills this time the fight’s practically draining from his body. The boughs of the trees above him pirouette like dancers. Oh stars, everything’s... so... woozy...

“Aw, geeze,” she mutters, and reaches to her gem to pull out an object, thin and rectangular, too blurry in his view for him to make out with much detail. “I, uh... listen. I’m gonna call up Pearl, and we’re gonna fix you up, okay?? We’re gonna take you to the fountain, an’ then...” Her words (reassurance, but for who?) grow thick as her glance flicks downward at his stomach again. “An’ then you’re gonna be fine...”

“B-b-but... I don’t think— I can’t walk,” he blubbers.

“Then I’ll carry you.”

“Am- hnng- Amethyst—“

“Shh-shh, don’t talk, bud. Save your energy.”

“I- I’m so scared,” he blurts.

And it’s so true. Because everything is becoming so blurry and indistinguishable, and the more his body seizes the more fractured he feels, and he’s so close to closing his eyes and drifting off now, he’s sure he is, he’s gotta be—

“Steven,” she says, voice firm yet soft. “Steven, common’, look at me.”

Serious Amethyst. He recognizes the tone. No arguing now.

So slowly but surely— knowing there’s no sense in fighting back oceans when he can barely stay afloat amidst the shallows of this river— his weary, tear stained eyes meet with hers. They’re blown wide with fear, with genuine concern, but between the swirls of black and indigo blue stirs a deeper courage: the unwavering gaze of someone who will have his back to the end of the line.

Amethyst clasps her palm against his shoulder, solid and reassuring.

“Whatever it takes, I promise you... I’m gonna get you there.”

#su #steven universe #amethyst #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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insfiringyou · 4 years

Text

BTS - Past Lives (V x Cassandra)

Contains: Discussions around pregnancy. Angst. Mentions of the past/confessions of love.

Set 2 days following the events of ‘Reaching Seoul’, Taehyung and Cassandra meet on neutral ground in a cafe.

We wanted to show some moments between the members and their girlfriends that may not seem grand or important in the long run, but that highlight some of the conversations they might have in private. We also don’t want to shy away from some of the arguments, disagreements or bickering that might take place.

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist of fics and art can be found here

Content below the cut

He was glad to find the cafe almost deserted and that Cassandra had chosen a quiet corner to sit in. Being recognised at the service station two days before had thrown him after spending so long out of the public eye, and he had been careful getting here; taking only back-streets and donning casual clothes which were sure to make him blend in. He had considered, back in the hotel, on wearing a hat, but thought if anything it would make his features stand out more.

The round table obscured the swell beneath her oversized jumper, and for a split second he almost forgot that anything had changed between them until she carefully rose from her seat as he joined her, shattering the illusion. He was unable to help his lingering gaze as she straightened up; her stomach straining heavily against the fabric.

“Thanks for coming.” She said, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. “I’ll get the drinks. Tea or coffee?”

He was silent for a moment, ashamed by his relief at her offer and realising that, like him, she was worried about him being spotted. “Tea.” He looked at her, hoping she would understand how grateful he was. She nodded politely before heading towards the counter on the other side of the room, disappearing from view. He knitted his thumbs together anxiously on the table, looking down when a young woman passed him on the way to the restroom. The rattling sound of unsteady porcelain brought his attention back, and he intuitively got to his feet as Cassandra turned the corner, precariously holding the tray of drinks.

“Careful…” He murmured, taking it from her and setting it down gently on the table. Reaching forward, she took a sip of water from her glass and lowered herself on the chair opposite, watching him, observing.

“You look better.” She finally said as he poured the steaming liquid from the teapot into his cup. He looked up at the sound of her voice. “Rested, I mean.” She clarified.

Taehyung sensed she was relieved, remembering how worked up and dry-eyed he had been when he saw her two days before. He had looked at himself in the bathroom mirror when he checked into the hotel and thought it was no surprise she had looked so shocked at his appearance.

“I slept for the best part of a day.” He confirmed, blowing gently against the rim of the little porcelain cup.

“You clearly needed it.” Her smile told him that she too was finding it hard to approach the subject they had both come here to discuss. Her initial suggestion of the cafe had seemed impersonal on the phone and he had almost protested, but he realised now why she had wanted to meet in public. Their conversation was undoubtedly more stilted than it would have been had they been alone in her apartment, but maybe that was what was needed.

“I’m glad you called.” He admitted, taking a small sip to inadvertently avoid her gaze. He suddenly felt small and awkward, as though she would be able to see the undercurrent of his bubbling nerves.

“I know we don’t have long…I’m sorry.” She said softly, moving her chair aside to make room as the young woman came out of the restroom, casting no more than an uninterested glance at the both of them. The time he had booked off was already coming to an end, and he wished, more than anything, that he had trusted his instincts and bargained for a longer vacation.

“It’s not…” He started, frowning as he tried to find the right words. He put the cup down and held his palm flat against the table, as though to keep his nerves in check. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“I know…” She admitted, her voice a whisper.

“I want to do what’s right.” He confessed, realising as he said it that he had come to this conclusion the day before, knowing it was no use to argue with her, and that it would only make things worse. “But I’m not even sure what that means anymore...what it involves.” His voice trembled, and before he could think about how to cover it up, her hand slipped through his, holding it gently across the table.

“Do you remember, when you first told me you loved me?” She asked. Her voice was melodic and kind but, he realised, without the nostalgia he would have expected. Taking a deep breath, he looked up, locking eyes. “You said you knew when you first saw me that we belonged together...that we were soulmates.”

He felt a sour stab in his chest at the recollection, understanding that while the memory was a good one, it sounded strange hearing someone else say it. He remembered the way her bare skin smelt of incense and jasmine as he traced a pattern of moles on her shoulder; the comforting weight of her in his lap as he stroked her dark hair. She had been preoccupied with a stray strand of cotton which had come loose from the sofa, plucking at it with her fingers as he spoke, a gentle smile playing on both their lips as he trailed his fingertips from her body to the gentle slope of her nose, stroking it lovingly. He had always found her nose beautiful; more angular and pronounced than he was used to seeing. The words had spilled from his lips; his unselfconscious confession of love bearing no burden on him. She hadn’t answered at first, and he didn’t expect her to. He just needed her to know how he felt.

“And when we spoke…” She continued. “It was as though you already knew me...like we’d known one another in a past life, and you wondered whether you’d made a mistake the first time, and were given a second chance to make things right.”

“Cass..” He whispered, shifting on his seat. She made him sound so young, and yet he knew he had spoken those very words. Like the perfect actress; she had memorised them without realising; not knowing she would ever need to repeat his sentiment years later. Subconsciously, his eyes flickered to the place where the table blocked his view of her stomach. His monologue suddenly seemed childish.

“Let me finish.” She uttered gently. “I know you thought I wasn’t listening, and that what you were saying was just some…” Her lips twisted in thought, as though trying to translate the words in her head. “Post-coital daydream.” She shrugged, knowing it wasn’t exactly the right phrase, but would have to do. She ignored the slight flinch he gave, expecting it, and continued calmly. “But I think we both know that with this, we don’t get a second chance to make things right if we fuck up.”

He fought the urge to explain or justify himself; knowing, frustratingly, that she was right. Instead, he sighed slowly. “Then let me help you. Let me be a part of this.” He squeezed her hand, allowing her to fall quiet.

“You’ve still got a year left in service.” She said, pulling away slowly. He realised she wasn’t trying to pick fault with his words, but was simply stating a fact.

“They’ll let me take the time off to be with you when it happens.” He said, not knowing if it was true. He would have to cross that bridge when the time came.

She shook her head slowly. “If you do that, it’ll get out...your career will be over.”

“Let me worry about that.” He murmured, realising as he said it that it was a real possibility.

Although they both knew the matter wasn’t settled, they fell silent, taking the opportunity to finish their drinks. He watched her place the empty glass on the tray, her movement distracting him from the wet streak which ran down her cheek.

“I’m scared…” She admitted, the whimper in her voice drawing his attention to her face. His chest sank.

“Me too.” He confessed quietly.

She stifled a sob, trying to keep steady. “I feel like I’ve gone out to swim and the tide’s come in early…” He watched her reach for the napkin which had been placed under the water on the tray, and bunch it tightly between her fingers, twisting it absently with both hands as she spoke. “There’s no rule book or script telling me what I should do.” He didn’t think he had ever seen her so vulnerable but felt the echo of her words in his own chest. “I’m still wondering if I made the right choice.” She looked up at him with wet, brown eyes and his stomach churned at the memory of his accusation, two days before. Gently, he changed the topic.

“Who’s been paying your rent? Ji-eun?”

She nodded slowly, almost shamefully, and it made him ache unpleasantly that she should feel the need to be embarrassed by asking for help.

“And you haven’t told your parents?” He continued.

“I meant to.” She said weakly. “I just keep imagining their reaction...knowing they told me I wouldn’t be able to take care of myself.” More tears fell, though her voice had steadied, and he felt the humiliation in her words. It occurred to him, for the first time in such stark terms, that he too would have to tell his family, and the prospect suddenly seemed harder than the thought of giving up his career had been. He tried not to let on as she finished, wiping her eyes messily with the torn-up napkin. “It feels like a slap in the face.”

He let out a long breath of air. “It’s my fault too. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Her small hand was resting by the empty teapot, and he took it in his, meeting her small, timid smile as she gulped back the tears with a snort.

“Look at us…” She laughed softly. “I always thought I was so grown up. That I was living the life I’d dreamed of as a child.” Shaking her head, she smiled nervously. “But now we both look like scared children.”

He knew she was right; it was though she could see right through him. But, suddenly, there was a strange comfort in knowing she felt the same; that whatever challenges they faced ahead would be navigated with a shared caution. “You’re the strongest person I know Cass.” Taehyung admitted without a pause for doubt, and he hoped that in her silence, she would be able to see it too. As they turned to watch the quiet lull of the street outside, he wondered if everyone felt this way; if anyone could truly be prepared for their life turning upside down so suddenly.

***

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neighborhoodmoonchild · 4 years

Text

ᾰ̓γᾰ́πη - Pt. III

Pairing(s): Cursed!Seokjin x Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy Au, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Angst

Summary: “There’s a story whispered around here. One surrounding the beautifully carved statue of a man at the center of the town. Legend says that when the hand of his true love graces his palm, he shall wake from his cursed marbled slumber. It’s always been a silly old wives tale, until you give in to a friend’s dare.” (prompt idea from writing-prompt-s)

Warning(s): mild language

Word Count: 3.7k (oops)

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, …

taglist: @best-space-boy @maryelixabeth @mochimaw @yeontanismypresident @hannahantonette17 @ign-is @fanfuckingfic @koala-wonderland @suchgayaesthetic @dulcaet @anoynmoustumbler @annoyingpessimist

~ if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, feel free to send me an ask! thank you💜

“It’s also a pleasure to finally see you again, Althaia,” Seokjin adds after a not at all awkward pause while Mira swiftly prepared an herbal tea meant to relax her noticeably uncomfortable guests. Looking over the rim of your cup as you took a long sip, your eyes darted from the man now sitting at the table across from you to the woman seated to your right.

He was watching her intently as she swirled her spoon around her cup, lightly agitating the liquid to blend the honey she always added. She once told you she’s not one for bitterness, and because she could never find the perfect blend sweet enough on its own, honey would have to suffice.

A long, dramatic sigh accompanied her look of disinterest.

“I’m quite surprised, though you don’t seem to be.” Again, your gaze flitted between the two, unsure of what to make of the situation. Mira didn’t seem bothered at all, almost as if this whole thing was something she expected, or at least, knew might be coming.

Why was she not correcting him? Insisting he must be mistaken; her name is Mira, not...not Althaia or whatever he said. And how could he insinuate he knows her in any way? He’s been a statue since before you were even born and Mira is only a few years older than you.

Mira had remained quiet, content as Seokjin waited for any kind of response. It would make more sense if she had outright denied his accusations, shut him down and insist a mistake had been made. Instead, she slowly moved her attention from her earlier ministrations, softly gazing upon you for a brief moment, then turning to him.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d remember me after all this time, let alone be able to recognize me, Mr. Kim.” Her voice was low and calm, calculated as she mulled over just how to address the situation to come. Something about the tone of her voice didn’t sit right with you. This was no longer the slightly agitating neighbor you’d grown fond of.

This person next to you was entirely different.

In the deepest part of her being, Mira knew it from the moment she met you that things were finally changing.

“What do you mean ‘remember?’” you piped up over the silent stare down the two had unconsciously engaged in. At an utter loss, your mind had taken the small bits of information provided to try and come to some sort of viable conclusion, but to no avail. Perhaps your mind was still processing your own dilemma, and you couldn’t afford to lend any brain power to this situation, or maybe it was just too far-fetched to even fathom.

Now, the two stared at you as if you were some poor, pathetic creature or a doll made of porcelain. Pitiful was one way to put it and it made your insides clench and churn, the situation all too reminiscent of a lamb about to be sacrificed to the slaughter. Eerie how suddenly you were the only one without a clue and it didn’t help that it now felt as if you were seated next to two strangers and not just one.

After the two continued in an annoyingly cryptic battle of stares, almost prodding the other to speak first, you decide the time for silence and secrets is officially over. Slapping two hands on the oak table as you shoot from your seat, the crack of skin on wood makes them fully focus on you. Not even bothering to look either one in the face, you let out a hefty sigh and close your eyes, mind suddenly battling an intensely growing migraine.

“Look, I don’t know whatever ‘this’,” hands waving between the two of them, “is, but I’m tired and done. With everything. Feel free to settle this on your own, I’m going home.”

Before you could even make it 5 steps from your seat, the slightly ajar front door slams shut...on its own. Like a lone wind had decided to fiercely bound though the opening, or more fittingly, a spirit decided to trap you inside.

“The hell was that?” You mumbled to yourself as you cautiously approached the door, afraid it may come suddenly to life, considering the day you’d had.

As your hand curled around the cool metal knob, you heard someone rise from their seat, “Wait, Y/N, just stay and let...let me explain.”

Swiveling your head around enough to see Mira standing firmly by her chair, a scared expression on her face, the atmosphere shifted. It set you off, igniting a sense of, you’re not sure, maybe fear, within you. Something wasn’t right. Nothing about this whole situation felt right.

“I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t feel right. I can’t be here...with you.” You weren’t sure what exactly was triggering this flight response within you. Not once in your time knowing her had Mira ever done anything for you to react this way towards her, but today, with her pushing you to touch the statue, to the odd sense of familiarity between Seokjin and her, to the strange aura suddenly radiating off her, it was all too much.

Your senses were overloading. Too much had transpired and you’d not been given enough time to properly digest anything. Going from a relatively boring life to one suddenly plagued by some kind of weird magic, sorcery, whatever it was, in the span of a few hours is too much.

The migraine you’d been fighting was on the cusp of becoming a full fledged breakdown.

Ignoring the protests of the two behind you, again your body moved towards the door, handle turning a fraction of an inch before everything stopped.

Seconds, maybe minutes you stared at the slab of wood. Not a muscle moved, like your entire body was paralyzed, only slow shallow breaths could escape the numb confines of your lips. As if you no longer controlled the only vessel with which you solely could. You were a marionette, controlled by invisible strings.

And then all at once, a warm tingly feeling seeped through your veins, bringing with it the sweet taste of freedom. Nerves alight, muscles contracting, you finally had your body back.

But with this came the intense fear of the whole situation. Every other thought within you was gone, mind shut down, body going into lockdown mode, syphoning your remaining energy into getting away.

Away from whatever this strange new danger was.

Slowly, cautiously, prey reacting to predator, you turned your body back to the table.

It hurt. Hurt to look at them. To look at her.

At first, a part of your mind jumped straight to blaming the newcomer, but deep in your soul, you knew.

She looked pained, as if she hadn’t just defiled you in some unbelievable and terrifying way. Like she had instead been the one to somehow become nothing but a husk reduced to a master’s bidding.

The questions of how and why were disregarded for a greater purpose, saving yourself from whatever was happening and preventing it from ever happening again.

How dare someone you trusted, cared for, looked up to, do whatever that hell that was to you, a friend, even for the fleeting moments she did.

The blood in your body was now cold, face pale and painted with such a deep look of betrayal you could feel the guilt radiate from her being.

“Y/N.. I-“

“Don’t.”

You didn’t even breathe when she flinched at the steel tone of your voice. This was all too much. This whole day was entirely too much. You needed to get away from this, from them, and you needed to do it now.

She knew what she’d done. Not only had she lied to you your entire friendship, but she’d hurt you in a way that shouldn’t be humanely possible. Panicked in her efforts to come clean to you, protect you, and protect herself, she’d acted too quickly, doing something she’d swore never to do again. It was one thing to keep secrets, but another to use them against someone.

Seokjin forgotten, you briskly made your exit, making sure they couldn’t see as the tears fell.

————

“If I see one more walk by, I’m going out there and beating the shit out of them,” you mutter to yourself halfheartedly underneath the comfort of the blanket fort you’d built in the living room.

After spending a few days trying to piece yourself back together, you’d decided the best course of action was: avoidance. Within the tiny walls of your home, you could stay cooped up in a safe space and forget everything that happened. Statue man could stay with her and you could go on with your life, without the both of them.

It seemed do-able at first, spending an unhealthy amount of time in bed, watching movies, the occasional brief call with your mother, but it of course couldn’t stay that way.

You’d been naive enough to think that the town would go back to normal, find something new to obsess over and forget all about you and the stupid statue.

Oh, how wrong you’d been.

Suddenly your house was like an attraction for everyone. As soon as the sun rose, you’d catch a few faces passing by your windows, just outside the front gate. There they’d sit for a few minutes, gawk and gossip, and eventually leave, and be replaced by a new set of oglers ready for a show.

You weren’t afraid of the attention, just miffed that your plan to lay low and be alone failed from the beginning.

Despite the annoyance from the nosy town folk, you were grateful that it had only been them, and not two other faces outside.

Watching the last of the group of young girls get bored and disperse from your window, you turn your attention back to the movie on your screen. As the characters moved and music played in the background, you forced yourself to try and focus on that. Instead, thoughts of Kim Seokjin and your friend weasel their way in over the noise.

What were they doing? Were they thinking of a way to fix things with you? Had they forgotten about you and moved on? How did she even do that in the first place? And what is the whole backstory between them?

The questions tore you up inside, fighting with the stubborn part of you that wanted to forget them completely. The other downside to isolating yourself was the immense amount of free time to think about everything that’s happened. It was a nightmare going over everything, every single bit that made no sense, bits and pieces not adding up in any way you could understand.

Just a few days ago you were a normal girl living life in a boring town fighting with your friend over the legitimacy of a town legend.

She was your only friend, the only person who listened, who understood. Could you forgive her for what she did? It was quite obvious she’d been keeping things from you, but for how long, and why? And Seokjin, your soulmate, how are you supposed to love someone you don’t know, who’s probably lived a whole life before yours even began?

If he is your soulmate, why didn’t he stop her? Did he feel the pain you did when you were robbed of your own self? How could he see you in such distress and not do anything? Why hadn’t it scared him as much as it had you? What parts of Mira’s hidden past was he privy to that you were not?

Perhaps you were putting too much onto the whole soulmates thing. After all, how could you expect a stranger to assert himself into such a personal thing, even considering the circumstances. When it all comes down to it, soulmate or not, Kim Seokjin is an outsider, an alien to you.

He is no more a part of your life than the nosy towns people, the visiting tourists, or the migrating birds. You don’t owe him anything, and he you.

The only thing you could wish for him right now, is to go about his own life and not force himself into yours.

Pillow clutched unknowingly tight to your chest, grounding yourself, you couldn’t help the dull ache in your heart. That was the only thing you would allow yourself to chalk up to the soulmate thing. Maybe one day, like them, you’d be able to ignore it too.

Movie long abandoned, you trudged your way back and forth, pacing across the wooden floorboards like a caged animal. You were desperate to get out, see the stars, breathe in the fresh air, but your body was still afraid of what leaving these four walls might incur. Whether you were ready to face them or not, you couldn’t sit there and drive yourself insane any longer.

The sun had set hours ago, the light from the moon casting a hazy white glow over the landscape, and you were desperate for even just a second to bask in it.

Grabbing a light jacket to fend off the chilly night air, you brace yourself, hand wrapped tightly around the door knob, and take a deep breathe.

Now that you were truly thinking about it, it must look overly pathetic from an outsider’s perspective. You’d been holed up in your home for four days now, only peeking suspiciously through your windows to glare at the onlookers and then returning to a pitiful mope-fest with only one attendee; you.

You owed it to yourself to snap out of it, move on, and go back to life as normally as possible. The only thing you could control was yourself. It doesn’t matter what others do or don’t do, you need to do what you can, for you.

And right now, that’s enjoying some fresh night air and being brave.

Taking that first step out onto the front porch is what you imagine the first astronaut on the moon must’ve felt. The most mundane of things became a huge feat, and you weren’t about to ruin it for yourself, no matter how silly it seemed.

Looking out across the street, the sidewalk empty and streetlights dim, it was like you were finally yourself again. The stars above and the moon shining bright made the first smile in days appear.

All of the worries, the questions, the bitterness lifted away by a light breeze, the clouds in your head dispersed and you had the sudden urge to forgive. All your life you’d been quick to judge and draw conclusions, but something within you told you there was more to this than meets the eye. You needed the truth.

Like fate had been keeping a close eye, your attention was drawn to the figure making its way along the outside of your fence line. The long dark hair caused a breathe to catch in your throat, and you were suddenly questioning if you were really were ready to face things.

She stopped just before the gate, head looking up and catching your eyes with her own.

Hesitating, she clears her throat, “I...I didn’t think you’d be up.”

Watching as her hands lifted up, you spot the neat paper bag tucked within her palms.

Still afraid to say anything, not trusting yourself to stay calm and collected, she continues.

“He’s been asking a lot about you. I wanted to do something...to apologize.”

She pauses, waiting to see if you’d run away or tell her to leave, but when you nod in the direction of the bag, she finishes, “I showed him how to make your favorite cookies. But I thought it be best if just I came to drop them off. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Arms protectively crossed over your chest, you take another deep breath and slowly descend the porch on step at a time. Instead of meeting her at the gate, you plant firmly in the grass.

“Why?”

It sounded choked coming out and you hated that. Not only did you not want to seem weak in front of her, you didn’t want her to think you hated her. The only thing you want is the truth. She owes you that much.

Mira fidgets a moment and returns her attention to you, not quite in the eyes, but it’s close enough.

“I didn’t mean to-I just-“ Tripping over her words, not exactly sure how to begin or where to go, you stop her quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Finally meeting your eyes, she sees the strength you’ve managed to muster up, sees that twinge of forgiveness at the helm and realizes it’s now or never.

“I’ve wanted to explain everything, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

“So instead you instigate me to break some curse you already somehow knew I’d be able to, pretend to be someone your not this entire time, and somehow posses me and take away my free will?”

The look of shame that melted onto her face struck a chord of guilt deep in your soul, but this was something you had to do. For too long you let others have free reign, it was time to take control.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it, or even believe me in the first place...”

“And how am I supposed to ever believe you now? I don’t even know who you really are, what you are...”

Tension building quickly in the cool air, things were becoming muddled. You weren’t even sure what you were pushing for, a confession? A secret so dark and unbelievable it was grounds enough to hide from you for as long as you were friends.

“I’m a witch.” There’s a long pause. You both stand there, staring at each other, unsure of who’s to make the next move. Mira’s afraid she’s just divulged her dangerous secret to someone who can’t handle it, and you’re afraid you’ve officially lost your mind.

“I know I sound like an old record player by now, but maybe we should take this somewhere more,” she pauses to look around the darkness cautiously, sending a shiver down your spine, “private?”

————

Turns out cookies at 2 in the morning are a good way to smooth over the confessions of the magical past of your only friend. Not going to lie, you’d taken plenty of breaks to try and absorb and process the incredible amount of information Mira, or formerly known as Althaia in the late 1800s, if you can believe it, had to unload on you. In her defense, you’d pushed her quite hard to open up and be 100% honest with you.

“So, you just...change your appearance and house every few centuries and pretend to be someone else?” Rubbing your head to ease the growing headache as you mindlessly shoved another cookie in your mouth, you felt like a little kid asking an adult really strange questions that shouldn’t have a serious answer.

Mira nods, wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee you made her and taking a sip.

“And you knew Seokjin when he was alive, well, in his own time, before he turned into a statue?”

She cringes a bit and it catches your attention, “About that...”

“You mean, you’re the one that cursed him?!?” It was probably the hundredth time you’d asked her that in the past half hour, but you couldn’t help it, you suddenly felt like you were going crazy, trapped in some bad supernatural rom-com or something.

Sighing loudly enough to voice her growing impatience with you, she nodded, “Yes, for the millionth time. I put the curse on Kim Seokjin.”

“Well, why?” Resting your chin in your palms, eyes wide like a child, you prayed further. You just couldn’t understand why on Earth she’d curse him in the first place. Even if she is a witch, what could have warranted him to invoke a curse? And why this particular curse?

“Well, it’s not really my story to tell...”

Holding true to your childish theme growing in this conversation, you pouted, bottom lip sticking out and leaning forward on the table, “But you cursed him, how is not yours to tell?”

Mira only shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips at your antics. You’d only shown your stubborn side like this to her on few occasions, and it made her laugh at how you could be so apathetic one minute and youthfully enthusiastic the next.

“True, but there’s much more to it than it seems. Besides, I think it’s time you both get together, talk, and figure things out.”

Your silent for a moment, fighting another pout and mulling over her words. Then suddenly, it hits you.

“Well, if you’re the one who cursed him, you can break our soulmate bond too, right?”

Her grin morphs into a neutral line, lips curled in. Like she’s trying to think of the best way to let you down.

“The thing is, I only enacted the curse. The means to break it were decided by fate, not me.” The look of disappointment that washed over you couldn’t help but bring a prick of guilt from the witch.

She’d invoked the curse reluctantly to help another, and now she was hurting someone again. If she could go back, maybe she’d have done differently.

Silence again stretched out between the both of you. It was one thing when it was some folk lore from town, but now knowing the truth, and knowing it is all very real and unavoidable; unfix-able, it’s a harder pill to swallow.

“Do you,” you squeak softly, eyes trained on the floor, “do you think we can actually do this? That I can do this?”

Mira’s hand reaches across the table to softly grasp your own. Despite your protests, a small tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you rush to brush it away.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Even though she understands, she wants to hear you say it, for yourself to hear it.

“Of being tied to a stranger forever. Forced to be with someone I may not ever fall in love with...”

“To possibly fall for someone who’s forced to be bound to me forever, who may never truly love me back.”

__________________________________________________________

A.N.,

Not going to lie, writing this portion was like pulling teeth. I’m not 100% happy with how it turned out, but in order to progress the way I want, I needed some things cleared up first. Now that we know Mira’s little secret, how will Y/N and her’s dynamic change? How will Seokjin fit into Y/N’s life and this new world? I promise, Y/N x Jinnie shenanigans are coming in the next part!

-Moonie🌙

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fogsrollingin · 4 years

Text

Moonlight readings

Whumptober and The Zombie Bang are now over and I get to r e a d again 😭 It is so good to just eat some chocolate and read other people’s works. Oh boy. Living my best life with these fics 🥰️

First, I realized I hadn’t read any original fiction lately so I lit upon this incredibly fun, exciting, and interesting original work that I read inside about 2 days or something: Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre by Max Brooks (of World War Z and Zombie Survival Guide fame; also son of the inimitable Mel Brooks)

Summary: As the ash and chaos from Mount Rainier's eruption swirled and finally settled, the story of the Greenloop massacre has passed unnoticed, unexamined . . . until now. But the journals of resident Kate Holland, recovered from the town's bloody wreckage, capture a tale too harrowing--and too earth-shattering in its implications--to be forgotten. In these pages, Max Brooks brings Kate's extraordinary account to light for the first time, faithfully reproducing her words alongside his own extensive investigations into the massacre and the legendary beasts behind it. Kate's is a tale of unexpected strength and resilience, of humanity's defiance in the face of a terrible predator's gaze, and inevitably, of savagery and death. Yet it is also far more than that. Because if what Kate Holland saw in those days is real, then we must accept the impossible. We must accept that the creature known as Bigfoot walks among us--and that it is a beast of terrible strength and ferocity. Part survival narrative, part bloody horror tale, part scientific journey into the boundaries between truth and fiction, this is a Bigfoot story as only Max Brooks could chronicle it--and like none you've ever read before. my thoughts: First, the ending was hilarious in a very good way to me. But back to the start: I adored the premise of a small cast of well-defined characters getting isolated and cut off from society and then threatened/hunted by monsters. The market on that formula will just never get saturated for me, lol. And then as the story continues to unfold, it just nails the suspense-action pacing and all while capturing such fascinating psychological reactions of its characters. Extra points for the clever, entertaining ways Brooks tears apart the romanticism of nature that many people tend to tout (without really being too harsh or mean towards those people). This book was a super fun ride.

The Cause Sanguine by glasslogic. Rated R, Dean/Sam, 48k words. Summary: Dean is lonely and depressed following the death of his father in a hunting accident. Guilt and grief are causing his life to spiral out of control, so he takes a rare moment of sobriety to walk away from everything and move to a remote cabin in the wilds of Montana. But it’s a very different world up there for him than the town-to-town drifting he has known all his life. Overhearing gossip one night in a local bar, he gets into an argument over the reality of werewolves and stumbles out into the woods in an ill-advised attempt to prove his point. But things never go smoothly for Dean, and what he finds changes everything he understands about hunting, his father, and even his own purpose in life. Dean has seen and done a lot in his time on the planet, but nothing has ever prepared him to navigate the strange roads of a relationship with someone who is only human three nights a month. ao3.org/works/337946 my thoughts: immediately feeling for Dean's grief and understanding his decisions to settle in little Sunvalley, Montana, the story gets off to a great start. Then the soft slow burn of learning who Sam is and how they develop trust and love is awesome. This was a really cool, sweet supernatural romance. Made me want to buy a fur rug, haha. There's a sequel I should check out too. This fic has been added to my animal transformations reclist.

Afterimage by paleogymnast. Rated NC-17, Sam/Dean, 27k words. Summary: "If you had it to do over again, and you could change everything, would you?" When all appears lost, Dean Winchester—battered, weary, guilty, and alone—is given the opportunity to travel back in time and live his life over again with the promise that if he makes the one choice he was too afraid to make before, he will be able to change the future, and avoid the loss of everyone he ever loved and everything he fought for. But how? After all, he knows time can’t be changed… But with the help of a mysterious entity, who may or may not be the actual God of Time, Dean discovers time can be rewritten. Armed only with the ghosts of memories from his former life—afterimages of rewritten time—but not really understanding the gift he’s been given, the new Dean, an impossibly young 27-year-old hunter, once again turns to his estranged brother when their father goes missing. But when he takes a chance on forbidden love, will it be the key to saving the universe and averting the apocalypse, or will it only bring about the end even faster? ao3.org/works/4504065 my thoughts: Holy crap this author’s writing hijacked me the last week of October while I was still trying to churn out a lot of written work). I absolutely loved this story, loved how Dean pressured himself to admit his feelings for Sam during Bugs, how the author described/framed Sam & Dean’s relationship, and plot-wise how information on seasons 4 & 5 filtered into seasons 1-2ish Sam/Dean. It filled me with so much hope & happiness to imagine them besting their destinies like this with the help of Kronos. Also I'm such a sucker for soulmate tropes & loved how paleogymnast let Bobby and Missouri be cool about Sam/Dean. This fic will forever been found in my time travel reclist now.

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mage-cat · 4 years

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First Steps Home - Saving Who?

Glimmer and Catra’s escape plan is underway, and it’s taken a turn that surprises their rescuers.

@cruelfeline May I offer you a Hordak rescue fic is these trying times?

Chapter 2 of part 2 of the Mending Bridges series. First chapter of this fic here. Start from the beginning of the series here.

Story under the cut. ~2100 words. Link to AO3 through here.

Bow looked understandably bewildered. “Why do we need to save Hordak?”

“First,” Catra answered, “while I’m sure the two of you could mess up the transporter mechanisms well enough for us to make it back to the planet, the longer they are out of commission, the better. For that we need someone with more experience with the tech, which means Hordak. Second,” she pointed at Entrapta, “are you really going to look into those big, pink eyes and tell her ‘no’?”

Bow made the mistake of looking into those eyes, open wide and shining with hope at the idea of rescuing Hordak of all people. He turned back to Catra, “And just what do you expect us to do with him once we’re back on Etheria?”

Catra shrugged. “Put him under house arrest in Dryl? The Alliance could even mandate directions for his research.”

Entrapta’s face split with an ear-to-ear smile. “I approve of this plan!”

“He did all this for Prime’s approval. Now, he’s seen that striving for that was pointless. His choices are to let himself be wiped away, or to find a better alternative. I just want to give him the choice.”

Bow sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Imp is going to have to make himself scarce,” said Catra, pointing to the creature perched on Entrapta’s shoulder.

“Why?” she asked.

“Horde Prime sees Hordak as a defect fit only to die. How do you think he feels about Imp?”

Entrapta tucked the crystal in her pocket and held Imp in front of her. “If I wrap you in my hair, will you be alright in there?” Imp nodded and nestled himself in a thick tendril that Entrapta looped over one arm.

As Catra moved towards the door she said, “If we get stopped, I’m taking you to the reconditioning room to reassure you that Prime has taken care of Hordak--sorry, if we’re stopped he’s clone K-18--while Adora and Glimmer are working out a personal matter.”

---

In the best luck any of them had had in a week, they reached the reconditioning room without incident. Inside, Hordak floated upright in a tube of green liquid, cables plugged into ports in his back laid bare by a dark garment that didn’t cover much. Overly exposed and completely slack, it was easy to imagine him as little more than a dead skeleton.

Entrapta stood in front of the tube. She had released her hold on Imp in the same moment that her face fell into wide-eyed worry. “What are they doing to him?”

“Honestly,” Catra said, “Prime explained it, but I don’t have the background to understand most of the technical language he used, and what I did understand, I don’t want to think about hard enough to repeat properly. I think I understand these controls though.”

After a moment, the liquid drained and the sides of the tube retracted into the floor. Hordak would have hung imply from the cables if Entrapta had not rushed to hold him up.

“Hordak? Hordak?!”

“Even if he can hear you right now, he can’t react,” Catra explained.

“Do you know where the armor I made for him is?”

Imp broke away towards a nearby storage area and pointed to one of the containers. Together, Bow and Catra got it down and opened it, finding the armor. Entrapta quickly started disconnecting the cables and fitting the armor in place. Even if it was only visual, it had the effect making him seem less like a corpse and more like something that could operate as a person as it helped Entrapta hold him sitting upright.

When she was done, she pulled the crystal out of her pocket. “Please work,” she begged it as she slipped the crystal into the socket that she had designed to hold it.

“If his eyes are green when they open, we may have to run,” Catra said.

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before now?” Bow whispered fiercely.

Catra shrugged.

Hordak’s eyes opened blessedly red and focused on the woman who was smiling at him, her own eyes filling with tears of relief. “Entrapta?” His voice was little more than a disused croak. “How?”

“Bow and Adora got me off of Beast Island in exchange for Scorpia joining the Rebellion,” she said as she pulled him up standing, her hair holding her up to match him in height. “Catra lead us here.”

“You came for me?”

She smiled wiping the tears from her eyes with her hair as her hands kept a firm grip on Hordak’s. “Of course I did. You’re the best lab partner I ever had.”

For the first time, he looked away from Entrapta and took in their surroundings. His gaze fixed on Catra. “Force Captain,” he said coldly.

“If you really need it, I could try to explain to you right now why I did not feel bad messing with the head of the person who suffocated me twice and sent me out on a suicide mission, but we are short on time. Just know that I actually do think that there are some fates that not even you are bad enough to deserve. Now do you want to help us sabotage your big brother’s transporters and join us in getting out of here or not?”

As the two seemed determined to stare each other down, even while Hordak and Entrapta continued to hold hands, Bow said, “Entrapta, would like to to see how the transporters work?”

Entrapta jerked as if waking up, her hands finally leaving Hordak’s with the motion. “I would love to see how the transporters work.” She turned back to Hordak, regaining his attention. “Dismantling the components would be very informative.”

They could practically see the wheels turning in Hordak’s mind as he considered if he could really turn his back on Prime, on everything he had ever known and worked towards.

Imp scurried up onto his shoulder, where Hordak almost automatically began to scratch under his chin.

“I worried about you.”

Horde Prime’s and Catra’s voices came in quick succession. “Destroy that disappointment. You’re safe here.”

Hordak looked at Catra. “Do you already know how to reach the transporter systems?”

---

They hadn’t been able to snoop around enough to figure out how they could reach the transporter systems. Imp could find them through the vent shafts, but that didn’t match up closely enough with the corridors. With Imp once more swaddled in Entrapta’s hair, the group looked almost like a standard diplomatic delegation with a clone escort.

Almost.

Another Horde clone stopped them. “K-18. You are supposed to still be undergoing reconditioning.”

It was Catra who answered. “Horde Prime thought it would be best if the one playing guide for the Etherian delegation had as much knowledge of the planet as possible. That left him with only one option. K-18 is leading us too...” She turned to Hordak. “Where exactly are we headed again?”

Hordak blinked and answered, “The aft-ward conference room.”

“If I understood correctly,” Catra continued turning back to the clone, “that is where we will be handling the negotiations.”

The clone stepped aside and allowed them to move on.

Once they were out of earshot, Hordak muttered, “Your skill with lying continues to be unsettling.”

“If you didn’t want practiced liars within your ranks,” Catra said in the same low tones, “you shouldn’t have given Shadow Weaver charge of the cadets.”

“If I had been wise regarding Shadow Weaver, I never would have employed her at all. I fail to understand why you were so reluctant to send her to Beast Island.”

Catra’s stride never broke. “I needed something from her first.”

“I told you at the time that whatever information she had was not worth the risk of keeping her in the Fright Zone.”

“Information was an excuse I was able to give you. I wanted something else.” She was silent for several steps. “After going through all the trouble of supplanting her, even if she would never apologize for the way she had treated me all those years, I thought she could have at least admitted that I proved to be a worthy opponent rather than a worthless disappointment. It was dumb of me.”

Hordak seemed to consider what she had just said. “I suppose I do understand that impulse.” Silence hung between them for a few more moments. “Shadow Weaver was shortsighted. When not engaged in duplicity, you performed admirably.”

“Horde Prime is shortsighted too. His obsession with perfection means that he doesn’t see the good in unexpected results. We can use that against him.”

Hordak stopped in front of a door. “We’re here.”

“Great,” Catra said as they stepped inside and closed the door. “I’ll handle lookout duty while you three tech heads get to work. Remember, we want this out of commission for as long as possible. If any components are useful for portal technology and small enough to carry, we want to take them with us.”

“How will we get them to the rendezvous point without being noticed?” Bow asked.

“This is the rendezvous point.” Catra held up her Force Captain badge and pressed on it, turning the face red. “Glimmer has a tracker. When she and Adora have cleared the docking bay, she’ll come get us.”

An alarm began to sound. “Well, they’ve certainly made some progress in the docking bay,” Catra said. “Work fast and hope they don’t figure out where we are quickly.”

While Hordak directed Bow and Entrapta in pulling this and grabbing that, Catra set to work mutilating the mechanism that would allow the door to open. A haphazard pile had built up around the team’s feet when something began banging on the door.

Glimmer teleported in. “Ready?”

Hordak looked up. “I’m unsure the exact state of the supply lines at present, but this will take some time to repair.”

“We’ll take it.”

Entrapta swept the pile of parts up in her hair as they held hands and Imp clutched Hordak’s shoulder.

“Hold tight, Hordak,” Catra said. “The first teleport is the worst.”

In a gut-churning blink they were next to the ship the rescue team had arrived in, the docking bay around it thoroughly trashed with several unconscious Horde clones on the floor.

They rushed onboard. Bow slid into the pilot’s seat. Catra stood next to him, clutching the seat back with her eyes fixed on the freedom beyond the ship’s front screen. Hordak sat down heavily in the back of the ship, wrapped firmly in Entrapta’s hair with Imp in his lap. Adora and Glimmer sounded like they were picking up an argument where they had left off before Glimmer had teleported away and back.

Minutes passed. The ship continued to fly towards Etheria’s surface. Catra’s grip on the pilot’s seat loosened, and she began to make out details of Glimmer and Adora’s exchange.

“Your mother told me to look after you.”

“That’s not what she said,” Catra cut in.

Glimmer’s head jerked towards her. “It’s not?”

“She said, ‘Take care of each other.’ I’m not surprised you misremembered it, Adora. You never really understood what the phrase means.”

Adora crossed her arms. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Catra’s arm swept outward. “Look at the people around you. Where do you think we would be without you? Do you think we would all be helpless without you around to play hero? Where do you think you would be without us? What does our support mean to you? I’ve tried to tell you before. Being your sidekick is kind of a shit job.”

Glimmer added, “Honestly, I’m surprised Catra didn’t snap and start trying to kill you years sooner than she did. It only took me a few months to get sick of you acting like I couldn’t know what’s best for me.”

“Maybe you should ask yourself what it is about you that led two different people to risk tearing the planet apart just to have the chance to prove you wrong.”

“It wasn’t just to prove her wrong.”

Bow’s voice was was slightly too loud as he said “Wow! I am way to busy flying this ship to have an opinion in this conversation.”

Catra leaned back on the pilot’s seat. “You’ve been taking the brunt of it lately, huh?”

His eyes stayed resolutely fixed forward. “Still too busy flying.”

She turned back to Adora. “You went from being Shadow Weaver’s favorite to being the Sword’s Chosen One. You have ridden through life with power others gave you, and it sure does feel like you think that makes you better than the rest of us.”

Adora tightened her jaw. “I broke the Sword. It was the only way to stop the Heart from going off.”

Catra turned back towards the front of the ship. “Maybe you’ll finally learn how the rest of us get through life.”

Next Chapter: Landing >

#she ra #entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #catra #bow #adora #cat writes #fanfiction

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theggning · 4 years

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Dumb Assumptions About FO4 Synths I Keep Seeing In Meta

(oh god I’m making a post how does that work)

Inspired by some really boneheaded takes I’ve seen in doing lore research for my fic.

Like granted, mostly it’s been in Youtube comments but also if you think about it for more than 2 seconds...

1. “All gen 3 synths in existence were made as replacements for real living human beings who were then murdered”

Yes, obviously, this definitely does happen on occasion, but the Institute also just churns out synths made from scratch out of all the DNA they’ve collected over the years. Some of those synths escape and form their own identities.

I saw somebody trying to argue that Glory was a human who had been killed and replaced by a synth rather than just a person who was always a synth and that... is certainly a logical gordian knot on several levels.

2. “Gen 3 synths are robo skeletons covered in fake skin with metal robot bones”

No, they are assembled from lab-grown human tissue and, I quote, “indistinguishable from humans down to the cellular level.” Tech may be limited, but the whole “omg synths” issue would be a lot less concerning if you could detect them with a refrigerator magnet.

3. “Gen 3 synths are wired with a switch that can make them follow Institute orders at a moment’s notice like the Manchurian Candidate”

While an understandable fear for your average Commonwealth citizen’s understanding of synths, this is clearly untrue. If the Institute had a “switch” to instantly brainwash synths remotely, why on earth would they need coursers or the SRB?

(Recall codes are obviously a thing, but they obviously have to be spoken directly to the synth in person.)

4. “Gen 3 synths cannot sleep/eat/drink/perform bodily functions.”

There is some confusion about this because one of the Institute scientists boasts about synths being able to work far beyond human limitations (never sleeping.) But there is a huge difference between “cannot” and “are able to function without.”

Like, how could anybody possibly NOT know they were a synth if they noticed one day that they’ve never actually eaten any food, or fallen asleep, or had to go pee? “Gee, Cindy, have you ever noticed that Rob sits upright in his bed staring blankly at the wall all night, every night? Is that normal?”

5. “Gen 3 synths do not have genitals.”

“You know, Becky, that is weird. Do you also think it’s a bit strange that his crotch is smoother than the hood of a Porsche?”

#fallout 4 #fallout fic #fallout 4 meta #i'd like to do some more of these i think #i mean i've done a fuckton of research for my fic so i might as well use my dumb tumblr for something #fallout lore

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qaraxuanzenith · 5 years

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Steven Grant Rogers, zt”l

Steven Grant Rogers, zt”l: A life in three and a half parts

Note: I wrote this due to a conversation with @dawnfire360 about representation in media. Captain America was a character created by two Jews, modelled in a Jewish archetype (“little guy from Brooklyn”), and created to fulfill what was, at the time of his creation, largely a Jewish fantasy (punching Nazis in the early forties). The fact that he was established canonically as Irish Catholic (if I remember correctly) seems less a factor of authorial intent and more because they doubtless thought (and most likely correctly) that a Jewish superhero would not sell, and would not reach the audiences they wanted to reach. This fic reimagines him as the same guy, but also Jewish, and observant. Glossary and explanatory notes for the Hebrew and Jewish references are at the end of the document.

Prelude: Baruch atah Adonai, mechayeh ha’meitim.

They had explained to him, of course, the science of how he was still alive, how his augmented body and the extreme low temperatures of his resting place in the Arctic had conspired to create a natural cryogenic effect, freezing his body in the state it was while preserving his life as he slept.

He understood - some of it, and he believed the rest, but still, he could not stop himself from thinking about Olam HaBa, from thinking me’ayin l’t’chiyat ha’metim min ha’Torah, thinking v’rabim m’y’sheinei admat afar yakitzu, thinking there is no reward for the righteous or punishment for the wicked in this world, only in the world to come. In many real ways, this was, after all, his world to come.

There was a matzeiva for him. It took him some digging (not literally, thank goodness) to find out about it, and it took time for SHIELD to be convinced enough of his stable mental and physical health to let him go without a babysitter, and more time for him to make his way to Brooklyn unnoticed, but there it was, in the Jewish cemetery, right beside his parents’ graves. There was no body, of course, but he knew, already, that that was not uncommon, for those who had been lost in the war. And there it was, engraved in stone:

Steven Grant Rogers, z”l שלום מתן רוג'רז ת.נ.צ.ב.ה. July 4, 1918 - 1945 כ"ז תמוז ה' תרע"ח - ה' תש"ה

Somehow, seeing his grave made all of this more real, rooted him in the reality of 2011 in a way that none of the pamphlets, books, or museum exhibits had managed to do.

May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life. Perhaps it was that traditional prayer that had come true, that had bound him to life as he lay frozen in the Arctic. The thought made him smile.

It was a simple stone, just his name and approximate dates and the typical caption, and he wondered how they had scrounged up the money to pay for it, and on whose initiative, with both his parents already gone and even Bucky already lost to him in the chill mountains. But then, that was what a Chevra Kadisha was for, wasn’t it? To give burial rites to the orphaned soldier boys, fallen a long way from home.

The air was crisp, and a little cold, this time of year, but that thought warmed him, too, to realize that even at the bottom of the Arctic, with everyone he loved already dead before him, he had been included, held close, by the holy community - to remember that he was still, after everything, a part of a holy community.

***

Read in the Google Doc (with Hebrew and Jewish terms hyperlinked to their glossary entries), or

1: Peoplehood

This had been his fight. It was his fight, it was personal in a way that most of his tussles with bullies were not. That was his response whenever Bucky gently tried to dissuade him from trying again, after being turned away from the enlistment office for the dozenth time, “Really, Stevie, they’re not going to change their mind, and there’s plenty good you can do from here, instead of trying to get sent to the front with bad lungs and a bad back and none of the common sense you shoulda been born with.” He would point out that this was his fight, and there was nothing Bucky could say to that.

Because everyone knew what it was like for Jews in Germany in the thirties and forties. (No, they did not know, how could they know, they had no idea, not by a mile, not by a hundred miles, and by the time they did, it was late, so late, and they would ask themselves, how could they not have known.) But they knew that it was bad, and getting worse, and Steve couldn’t - he couldn’t just let that stand.

So of course he was eager to fight, not just to fight but to fight for something, and this was his fight, im ein ani li, mi li? Of course he jumped at the opportunity, offered by Avraham Erskine, to be something greater than himself, to be truly able to help his people, help everyone, im ani l’atzmi, mah ani?

There was no hesitation when he heard that Bucky’s unit was taken, only the immediate need for action, and the action to match it, and im lo achshav, eimatai?

They’d been together, their Commandos, for a year before they heard about the camps - it was almost that long before anyone heard about them, and then more time until the news trickled through army base to army base, reaching them when they returned from the field.

The thing about Bucky, a thing he loved about Bucky, was that he didn’t need to say it, to ask it. He returned to the tents, his stomach still churning and his mind reeling from the unthinkable images, the nauseating reports, and Sergeant Barnes was there, explaining that he had already spoken to their men, told them that this was something the Captain needed to do, and they with him, on no general’s orders, in much the same way as he had come for them.

When he had gone on his own for the 107th, against orders, he had returned to a commendation, and carte blanche to form his own team. When he came back from this, he received a reprimand, and grudging agreement to look the other way, just this once, and a warning not to do it again.

Of course, he thought, his mask a warm and ever-present reminder of the compromise it represented, in replacing the kipa he would normally have worn.

Of course they did it again - but not as often as any of them thought they should. They still had official missions to complete, important ones, that could not, should not, be neglected. And renegade rescue missions took time to arrange, and to plan; he couldn’t in good conscience lead his men in blind, so he had to rely on what information Peggy could drip to him, on where to find the next camp they would hit and what to expect there; and he had to wait for arrangements to be ready, usually visas or a plane or once, memorably, a boat, thanks to Howard, for getting the people to safety afterward, because these were not soldiers who could simply be reabsorbed into the nearest army base, and there was no use in rescuing them only to abandon them once more to the jaws of death.

And there were so many stragglers, each time - the very old, and the very young, and those simply too sick or too weak to flee unaided. And their ragged survivors needed Steve to translate and reassure them, needed every scrap of protection they could offer, until they reached whatever escape route Stark had magicked up, so that they could not send a soldier to go back and set charges and run out of range before detonation, which meant that they could not even blow the camps up when they left.

And there were so damn many of the camps.

When Steve made his descent, months later, into the Arctic, words of Torah rising unbidden to his lips, it was with a clear conscience, and only three regrets.

First: that he had promised Peggy a dance, and never delivered on it. Not that he desperately needed that dance, but he wanted to be a man who kept his word.

Second: that day with the train and the snow and the cliff. It had haunted him every day since, constantly revisiting it, asking himself what he should have done, how he could have done things differently, done things better, how he could change the outcome, so that he could stop Bucky from falling, could save him, could be the one to fall, instead.

Third: that there were so many camps that he had not gotten to, and so many that he had not gotten to in time. That he was only one man, and, with all his strengths and limitations, he had not prevented millions of his people’s lives from being snuffed out. This thought, especially, would stay with him when he awoke.

***

2: Ritual

The year is two thousand and eleven, and Steve Rogers wraps a set of 80-year-old tefillin on his arm and forehead - the same pair that he received for his Bar Mitzvah, back in a different time.

He had mixed feelings on getting them back, when Fury and Natasha took him to unlock an old SHIELD vault so that he could sift through and reclaim those of his belongings that had not already been snapped up by museums and heritage foundations.

Part of him was relieved to find them waiting for him, because it had sentimental value and because the thought had occurred to him, incongruously, that even in this new world’s economy, they would cost a lot of money to replace.

He was impressed that it was even still usable, almost as well-preserved as he was; apparently a sealed, oiled canister was for ritual items of leather and parchment what Arctic ice was for super-soldiers. It had knocked around at the bottom of his bag throughout the war, mostly unused, because a soldier could not be expected to keep his thoughts pure from distraction in wartime, and because, most mornings, there simply was no time. It was all he could do to say Brachot as he dressed, with maybe a rushed Amida afterward, without taking the time to painstakingly wind and unwind his tefillin.

He was a little guiltily thankful for the nondescript bag, in army khaki, that held them; no complicated questions from Fury as he leaned into the vault and slung it onto his shoulder, scooping up the rest of the dregs of his former life in a second, swift motion.

Mostly, though, there was a bitter sense of recognition. Every shred of what was left of him, after his plunge into the Arctic, had been picked and squabbled over by the government, by the museums, he had had to fight even to get Bucky’s dog tags back, which rightfully should have been sent straight to his sister, but this - this lay pristine and forgotten at the bottom of a vault.

And why not? he thought bitterly. Without it, he was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American hero. And oh, he had seen and seethed at the encyclopedia articles, the exhibit captions about him, Steven Grant Rogers, born to European immigrants… “European immigrants,” when they - and he - would have been beaten up by the real Europeans for claiming the name for themselves, as though they would have abandoned their identities wilfully like that. Rogers’ father, who changed the name from the Russian Ruzhgies… and no, that wasn’t right either; it was from Yiddish, from Roiskies, but heaven forbid they say that of Captain America, better to imply a nonexistent Russian origin than to let him be a Jew.

A wave of outrage, of fury, rushed through him, that this important part of his identity had been swept under the rug for seventy years, denied, ignored, locked away like it was America’s dirty little secret.

He wondered if any of the biographers had found their way to the little matzeivah in Brooklyn, beside the stones for Sarah and Joseph Rogers, with his Hebrew name and of blessed memory, and decided to leave that detail out of their work; or if there was a book out there that revealed the truth of him; or if no one but he had ever made it that far.

The year is two thousand and eleven, and Steve Rogers wraps strands of leather around his arm that are almost as old as he is. He is Captain America, and he has always stood for America, for freedom, for the power of the individual - and he does, still - but he has always stood, too, for the holy words written in ink on the scraps of parchment contained within the little black boxes whose fraying leather straps he winds around his arm, whispering prayers to himself, and for all that they represent to him. He thinks that, maybe, it is time to share that with the world.

***

3: Homeland

The Rogers household had never emphasized any particular need to visit, or live in, the Promised Land - but then, there was no State of Israel when Steve was growing up in the twenties and thirties.

Oh, that had been a fascinating few hours of research and reading, as he supplemented his catch-up course on everything he’d slept through. Nat and Sam were great, really, at filling him in on all sorts of pop culture and scientific advancements, but they didn’t know every facet of him yet, and there were some things which if he wanted to know about them (and he did), he would have to seek them out himself.

It was his private reading project, modern Jewish and Israeli history, and in reading about Israel, Steve felt invigorated. Motivated. Filled with purpose, for the first time in so long. America didn’t need him the way it had seventy years ago; he had been relegated to being a symbol, shunted off to dance attendance on politicians in costume, like back in his USO days. Here, though, was somewhere that he could make a difference; he could do something, he could help people, he could…

...He could probably create an international incident, he realized, as the thought turned cold and soured, fracturing, perhaps permanently, the good terms of an allyship that had lasted for almost as long as he’d been frozen. And it would be the biggest Chillul Hashem, Captain America apparently defecting to fight for a foreign power; he would reinforce every nasty stereotype he’d come up against as a boy, particularly the doubt as to whether Jewish loyalties could ever be trusted.

He had chosen to become Captain America. It had fallen into his lap, a little, but he had chosen it; and he could only fight for another country if his government loaned him out, such as through the Avengers Initiative, or at least if the hearts of the American people were with him.

A visit, at least, he could manage, though by the time it came to fruition, that, too, had become another political sideshow, complete with presidential photo-op in front of the Kotel, Steve sweltering in full costume.

The president had a schedule to stick to, though, and Steve managed to stay longer, on his own, just a visitor walking the footsteps of his forefathers. Without the president glued to his side, he travelled out of costume; he wore a quiet button-down shirt and became practically invisible, and he bought - to his endless delight - a Captain America kipa. He wore it for the rest of the trip.

He visited holy sites, places of Biblical significance; he hiked in the North and dove deep, deep, deep in Eilat, because he could.

And he went to Yad VaShem, because he needed to see, needed to revisit this worst part of what he failed to fix during his war. He walked himself through the solemnity of it, through the images which were no less sickening with age, the stories that were somehow worse now that he knew the full extent of it.

But he ended his self-guided tour on a hopeful note, an uplifting note, because his feet took him to the wall dedicated to the Righteous Among the Nations, and he read through the lists and lists of names until he found a familiar set of nine names, beginning with ג’יימס “בקי” ביוחנן ברנס and continuing through all of his commandos. There, staring at a stretch of wall that notably did not list his name, was where Steve had felt the most seen in over seventy years, because whoever wrote these names here had known very well who they were and what they had done, and they had done enough research to know, for once, that שלום מתן רוג’רז had no place on a list of those “Among the Nations.”

Before he left, he quietly found a curator who both recognized who he was and was not overly impressed by him, and asked her to add one more name to that particular part of the list. Peggy’s and Howard’s roles in their unsanctioned missions had, by necessity, been kept secret, but enough time had passed, Steve thought ruefully, because he was tired of bitterness, that it wouldn’t count as treason anymore. He wondered what Sharon would think about accepting this posthumous honour on behalf of her aunt. He wondered what Tony would think, about not being called upon to accept it on behalf of his father, for the same reason that Steve had smiled not to see his own name on the list.

He left the monument to the dead he could not save, feeling if not uplifted, then at least satisfied with a job ably done, and he took himself for a run through the city, to shake off his last gloomy thoughts about the dead. He walked through David’s city all the way out to the ruins of Jehoiakim’s palace; from the Jewish Quarter to the site of an historic battle in 1948, history that he had slept through. He slowed to make his way through the shuk, buying impossibly cheap candies, dried fruits, nuts, pastries, falafel, to feed his superhuman body, as he fed his soul on the smells, the sights, the sounds of haggling and cheerful shouts - the scenes of his people, comfortable in their own skin, in their own home.

His return flight marked the first time he managed to sleep on an airplane since before he went down in the Arctic. About an hour before landing, he left his seat and joined the makeshift minyan near the back of the plane, and wrapped his eighty-year-old tefillin as he greeted a new day.

******

Glossary and explanatory notes:

zt”l - short for zecher tzadik l’vracha, “the righteous person of blessed memory” - written after the name of a very righteous deceased person. Sometimes pronounced “zatzal,” sometimes read aloud as “zecher tzadik l’vracha.”

Baruch atah Adonai, mechayeh ha’meitim. - Blessed are You, Lord, who revives the dead. From the Amida (see below), part of a longer prayer said three times a day in Jewish prayer.

Olam HaBa - The World to Come (as opposed to Olam HaZeh, This World), the term is Jewish texts for the heaven-like world that righteous people enter after death.

me’ayin l’t’chiyat ha’metim min ha’Torah - “Whence is [the source] for resurrection of the dead in the Torah?” - a quote from the Talmud, in a passage discussing Jewish beliefs about afterlife and the prayer quoted above.

v’rabim m’y’sheinei admat afar yakitzu - “and many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth will awaken” - quote from Daniel 12:2, appearing to foretell a resurrection of the dead and quoted in the Talmud as a proof-text for that idea

there is no reward for the righteous or punishment for the wicked in this world, only in the world to come. - another quote from the Talmud, reinforcing the concept of the World to Come (“Olam HaBa”) as a response to the problem of why good things happen to bad people and why bad things happen to good people.

Matzeiva - literally “pillar” in Hebrew; used to refer to a tombstone or similar memorial for the dead.

z”l - short for zichrono l’vracha, “of blessed memory” or “may his memory be for a blessing,” typically written after the name of a deceased person. Usually read aloud as “zichrono l’vracha,” sometimes pronounced as “zal.”

שלום מתן רוג'רז - Shalom Matan Rogers - written as Steve’s Hebrew name. Steve, though a common enough name in Jewish circles, has no direct Hebrew equivalent, so I got to play around with it. Shalom starts with the same letter, and I felt it was apropos for our weary super-soldier to have a name that means “Peace.” Matan is a Hebrew boys’ name that means “Gift,” so I felt it was a good equivalent to Grant. Rogers is transliterated (though see discussion of his last name below).

ת.נ.צ.ב.ה. - short for tehei nishmato tzrurah b’tzror ha’chayim, “May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life,” usually written on Jewish tombstones and occasionally in other contexts after the name of a deceased person.

כ"ז תמוז ה' תרע"ח - ה' תש"הa- 27 Tamuz, 5678 - 5705 - The Hebrew dates for Steve’s birthdate (yes, I looked up July 4, 1918 - note that the Hebrew calendar and the Gregorian calendar don’t match up, so 27 Tamuz is not the 4th of July every year; most years, Jewish!Steve would be celebrating his Hebrew and English birthdays on different days) and assumed year of death. Rather than research or guess a rough date for when he touched down in the Arctic, I decided that - probably like many people murdered in the Holocaust and soldiers who died fighting in WWII - whoever made his tombstone only put the year of death, since they didn’t have the information or resources to pinpoint the actual date of death.

May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life. - See above; Steve is reading and mentally translating this line from his tombstone.

Chevra Kadisha - Aramaic, literally “Holy community” - used to refer to the group of people, required in every shul/synagogue/Jewish community, who voluntarily see to the community’s dead. Typically this entails cleaning, dressing, and burying the body, which would not have been necessary in Steve’s case, as no body was (obviously) recovered; however, because he had no living relatives at the time of his reported death, it would also have fallen to them to take care of his tombstone and any prayers of memorial/mourning.

im ein ani li, mi li? - “If I am not for myself, who is for me?” - first third of a famous quote from Hillel (a first-century Jewish leader foundational in forming Judaism as we know it), found in the Mishna (text that is the precursor to the Talmud).

Avraham Erskine - using the Hebrew pronunciation of Abraham Erskine’s first name to emphasize the fact that it is a Jewish name, and this commonality would not be lost on Jewish!Steve

im ani l’atzmi, mah ani? - “If I am [only] for myself, what am I?” - second third of the famous quote from Hillel.

im lo achshav, eimatai? - “If not now, when?” - final third of the famous Hillel quote.

Kipa - small circular cloth head covering that observant Jewish men wear, often worn at all times. Can be worn in addition to, or substituted by, another head covering such as a hat or helmet.

words of Torah rising unbidden to his lips - this alludes to the precept, which Jewish children are taught from a young age, that one should say the first line of the Shma (an important prayer said twice daily and taken from the Torah, affirming one’s faith in a singular God and one’s connection to Jewish peoplehood) at the moment of one’s death. Although I also like to imagine that other Torah quotes would have been rising in Steve’s mind at the time, as well.

Tefillin - A Jewish ritual item, used by Jewish men over the age of thirteen. Tefillin is a plural noun, and they are often also referred to as a “set” or a “pair” of tefillin. It consists of two pieces, each with a black box of hardened leather containing pieces of parchment with specific passages from the Torah written on them, and black leather straps attached to the outside of the box. One piece is wrapped around the left arm, with the box positioned on the upper arm; the other piece loops around the head, with the box positioned on the forehead and the straps dangling down at the back of the neck. They are “wrapped” (the term commonly used for donning Tefillin) at the start of the morning prayers on a regular day, with certain blessings and verses said as one puts them on, and unwrapped at the end of the morning prayers. Tefillin are considered holy, and one is supposed to keep one’s thoughts pure and focused on prayer while wearing them (if a person needs to duck out during prayer to go to the bathroom, they must remove the Tefillin and put them back on when they return). They should also be handled respectfully, and with care, due to their holy status. Because of the requirements in making Tefillin (the leather parts must be made from the hide of a kosher animal, and the passages must be hand-written by a trained scribe, in special ink, on parchment made from the skin of a kosher animal), Tefillin are fairly expensive.

Bar Mitzvah - Aramaic, literally “a son of the commandments.” Refers to a Jewish boy’s 13th birthday (or the celebration of that birthday), at which point he becomes responsible for his own fulfilment of all the relevant commandments in Judaism. This is the age when an observant boy would receive his first set of Tefillin.

Brachot - literally, “blessings.” Used here (and commonly) to refer to Birkot HaShachar, “The Morning Blessings,” a set of blessings said at the beginning of morning prayers, and which can be said while getting dressed.

Amida - literally, “standing.” Name for an important prayer said in every Jewish prayer service (usually three times a day), so called because it is said while standing, with the feet together in one spot. (Also known as Shemonah Esrei, “Eighteen,” for the eighteen-or-so blessings that make up the core version of this prayer.)

Roiskies - I took some liberties here, because Rogers is not a common Jewish name. There is, however, a very historical trend of Jews with very Jewish-sounding names changing their names to very non-Jewish names, with a common first letter or sound, upon immigrating to the US, which is what I have to assume happened in the case of Jewish!Steve’s parents. Roskies / Roskes / Rosskies is a common enough Jewish name, and one with a close enough sound that Joseph might reasonably have changed his name from that to Rogers. Unfortunately, I have not been able to source the meaning of that name (if any Roskies know what their name means and want to help me out, I would welcome that). I added the i to make it the variant Roiskies because of my best guess as to the name’s origins - that the first part comes from the Yiddish rois, meaning pink or rose (see also: common Jewish names with that root such as Rosen, Rosenberg, and Rosenstein).

of blessed memory - see z”l above; Steve is remembering and mentally translating that text from his tombstone

Chillul Hashem - literally “Desecration of the Name [of God],” used to refer to any action that, when performed by a Jewish person, would make the Jewish God, Judaism, and/or the Jewish People as a whole look bad. Acts of Chillul Hashem are forbidden in Judaism.

the Kotel - literally “the Wall,” short for Kotel HaMa’aravi, the Western Wall (the still-standing western retaining wall around the area of the Jewish Temple that formerly stood on the Temple Mount).

a Captain America kipa - see above about what a kipa is. Captain America kipot (plural of kipa) do exist.

Yad VaShem - the Holocaust Memorial museum in Israel (its name is taken from a line in Isaiah, promising a lasting memorial for all the righteous who die without children to remember them; roughly, “yad vashem” means “a monument and a name”)

Righteous Among the Nations - a list maintained by Yad VaShem, of all the non-Jews who saved Jewish lives during the Holocaust. They give recognition to the honorees on the list (or their descendants) when new names come to light.

ג’יימס “בקי” ביוחנן ברנס - Hebrew transliteration of James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes

Shuk - market, here referring to the popular large open market in Jerusalem.

Minyan - literally quorum, referring to a group of 10 or more Jewish men for prayer, as many prayers are only said (in Orthodox circles) when a minimum quorum of 10 men are gathered together. Can also refer to the prayer service taking place when this quorum is gathered. On flights between Israel and North America in either direction, there are usually enough Orthodox Jewish men for a makeshift minyan to gather (preferably somewhere unobtrusive) for morning and/or evening prayers at the beginning/end of the flight (depending on the times of takeoff and landing at the origin and destination locations, respectively).

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ameftowriter · 5 years

Text

5738 A.D. 4,1 (UPDATED) (Dr. Stone fanfic)

From here: https://ameftowriter.tumblr.com/post/188742703889/5738-ad-41-dr-stone-fanfic

This is the updated version of the fic above. After watching Episode 22 I had to change this a bit and edited it better to make sure it flowed smoothly. Also I may plan on putting more chapters but I’ll have to see to that later.

Anyway, I love Episode 22 so much and it touched my heart so! I have two more fics incoming that I posted along with this, so that will be incoming soon.

Ao3 | ffnet

Part 1 (This!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ???

Gen still has a hard time taking everything in. Was it really the year 5739? The mentalist just couldn’t wrap his head around it. On top of it all, those statues. So many statues.

They were people, turned to stone.

He realized that something terrible has happened and it affected every human being on earth.

He was affected too, considering the position he woke up from. The last thing he remembered was that he had just finished his act. Hearing the cheers and applause from a delighted audience, that's when everything went dark.

And the next thing he knew was a bright light, and faced an open ocean.

He wondered if this was a prank, he’s seen a lot of celebrity prank shows, to be a victim of that disgusted him. He was a mentalist, being subjected to a prank like this defies his very image. He grumbled at the thought of it as he stood up from his position.

That is until he heard a deep commanding voice from the background.

“Welcome to the year 5739 AD”

He felt cold sweat drip off his currently naked body. He turned to recognize the man who broke him out of the dark stone prison. It was Shishio Tsukasa… the strongest primate high schooler.

He heard him say something about making a choice. That him and those statues behind him were selectively chosen for his new world…

Gen looked up and just could not believe what he saw...

He was then given some clothes to wear, made by their resident tailor named Yuzuriha. He didn’t know who she was, but was grateful for her.

It was… clothes he supposes. It was a tunic of sorts that reached up to his knees. Made of animal skin. He wanted to ask for a T-Shirt and Jeans. Then again… if it really was year 5739, and everyone was petrified…

He nearly stumbled on a statue lying around. He gained back his footing and turned to see what tripped him. His eyes widened to see that it was his manager.

Memories of the man flooded his head. When he first started, he would try to use him, booking his shows back to back, expecting him to nearly give up his own education, family life, and his private life for his acts. He tried to milk so much money from him, Gen was sure it was borderline illegal. But eventually, he found a weakness to the man and he became an easy target for Gen’s manipulation. Sometimes he used him as a guinea pig for any new acts he had thought of. He nearly had him prance around the streets naked once as a form of revenge.

But if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have become this popular and famous…

He wouldn’t have had the money to…

Tsukasa shattered the manager’s head beneath his feet.

Gen nearly jumped back at the sudden destruction in front of him.

“I apologize for startling you.” Tsukasa spoke up, “I remember this man once, he was your manager yes?”

Gen could only nod.

“He tried to charm me to having you and I do more shows together, he treated us as if were freaks in a carnival. I simply cannot stand adults like that…”

It didn’t take a mentalist to know that every word he spoke dripped of hatred and loathing. Gen looked at the remains of the destroyed statue, and felt his stomach churn.

He hated his manager yes, but…

For someone to just mercilessly destroy that…

They had arrived at the Empire of Might as Tsukasa had called it. Gen could only look at it with awe as he saw various forms of treehouses and caves formed from the mountain. But most of all, he saw that almost every man and even women around him were muscular and looked like they would be able to carry him like he was a feather.

Then Gen met the said tailor, Yuzuriha, and the big oaf that he was pretty sure was her boyfriend, Taiju.

They were friendly and chipper. Gen was surprised to see this. After all it's been about 4000 years and everything around them is gone. For them to act this way.

Well… he wouldn't verbalize it without any sort of evidence. But to him it seemed to be just an act.

He wondered why.

Gen thanked her for the clothes. But wonders if he could ask her for something more… sophisticated. Something that suits his style.

Tsukasa agreed, he saw Gen as a valuable member of the Empire, but he also needed him for a mission.

Yuzuriha agreed to do it without any questions asked.

Gen missed paper and pencil or any kind of writing instruments. But it seemed that the girl understood his directions nonetheless.

Now, he’s curious as to why they're acting this way.

While they waited for his new outfit, Tsukasa then began explaining to him his goals. Goals of creating a new and better world without the adults who tainted it. Gen listened to him intently, and felt himself get pulled into Tsukasa’s ideals. He knew what he meant and fully understood his words and reasonings. After all, he made a living using and exploiting the naivete and idiocy of the adults that ruled the earth. He knew and understood the pain and suffering Tsukasa has mentioned. He had experienced it himself as young as he was. And yet the scene of his manager being crushed underneath Tsukasa’s feet kept playing over and over his head….

Sometimes Gen wondered if that's what kept him from being swayed by Tsukasa's words…

But at this moment he was afraid. Very afraid for his life. He was reborn into this "Stone World" and was spared from a fate worse than death. To even show any resistance to Tsukasa or any of his people would equal his untimely demise.

So he as it was many years ago, put on his mask and showed his agreement to the man's ideals and goals. Even showed support and gave suggestions on who to pick and revive. The mentalist was a master of weaving words into the most believable of sentences, right down to the inflection of his syllables.

Tsukasa was pleased. And that was good enough for him.

That night, Gen just could not sleep. He tossed and turned endlessly as he made the effort to close his eyes and forced his body to sleep. He thought of everything he could remember on how to go to sleep, but that failed him too.

It was strange to him. He remembered during his performance that he was so exhausted that he could collapse the moment he let his body relax. Yet when Tsukasa broke him out of the stone prison that he felt so energized that he could run a marathon and not feel winded. And he certainly still feels that way. He wonders if being asleep for so long had made him catch up to his lost sleep. All nineteen years worth of it.

Well, he did the math and technically he is now 3739 years old…

If there was any kind of sleepiness in him at that moment, Gen had completely lost it.

3720 years… is a really, really long time…

Yuzuriha finished his new outfit the next day, he was very grateful for her. Especially after hearing the fact that she spent all night with it. Gen felt a bit bad for her, until he heard her voice crack just a little…

Gen did not have supersonic hearing, but as a mentalist, he taught himself to pay attention to people’s subtle noises. He wondered if Yuzuriha was lying to him.

He tried the new outfit on, and it fits him just right. He was definitely impressed with her.

Later, Tsukasa began explaining to him about a certain “miracle fluid” that had broken him out of the petrified state. And that it was located in a special cave. Which was also dubbed, Cave of Miracles.

A miracle fluid that undid the petrification? He couldn't believe that it was even possible. That peaked his interest, not that he would show it.

As Tsukasa brought him to a cave and along a few other muscular men with him. It seemed that he wanted to show respect to nature's bounty and sorts. It was something that lost his interest, and it fell into deaf ears. Thanks to that distraction though, Gen had tripped over a giant root, but he quickly gained footing and held himself against a tree near the cave. He brushed his fingers against a tree without realizing it.

He felt something odd.

He knew tree bark was rough and could hurt depending on the tree, but even so, this sensation felt weird to him. To him it was like… like… Something was engraved into the tree.

He moved his hand away and saw a carving into the tree he held on.

A.D. 5738 4, 1

“Fifty-seven, thirty-eight… Four, One…” Gen read the engraving. “5738, 4, 1…”

It was like everything he had known right now had changed.

His thoughts came back to when Tsukasa told him the current year. He wondered so many things that day, that even today he was still trying to take it all in. He wondered how… how would Tsukasa be able to determine the current year. From what he saw of the strongest primate high schooler, he was more than just a muscleheaded idiot. He had strength, he had skill, he had smarts.

But even so that did not give him a proper answer as to how and why he knew the current date.

Does Tsukasa even know this engraving?!

Was it even really the year 5739?

But this engraving shows it. 5738… It’s been a year since the engraving was written in the tree. April 1st… How did the writer knew of the exact date even…

“5738… April 1st…” Gen repeated himself, “H-How…. How did… How could someone…?”

“No…” Gen gathered his thoughts, “Someone… someone must have carved this after breaking out… They had to. But… How would… would they know the exact date…”

“Is it even possible…?!”

He read again the crude kanji and the numbers written on the tree. It was clearly there. It wasn't some sort of hallucination… It was actually written there…

The mentalist's heart swelled with hope.

“This… this is…” Gen shuddered in excitement at the realization of someone like that ever existed, and broke out first, and to do this, “This is too antastic-fay! Whoever did this… Must be…”

Then his thoughts were interrupted by Tsukasa calling him to the cave.

Gen quickly dashed inside. To see Tsukasa standing in front of a pile of… bat guano. Gen’s nose scrunched up at the awful smell and saw yellow liquid dripping down from the cave’s ceiling, to a clay bowl.

He quickly deduced it as a so called “miracle fluid” that Tsukasa had mentioned. But when he read Tsukasa’s expression and listened to his voice, he felt there was more… than just that fluid…

That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about that engraving.

5738 A.D. April 1.

He wondered who could even do that. In that darkness. For almost 4000 years, calculated the year, month and date. The exact date?! He wondered why would the person even bother to calculate. When normally you'd think of surviving first.

He thought of possibilities. He knew you can tell how old a tree is by cutting it and counting the number of rings… But that would have been a gigantic tree. He considered the number of natural disasters that could have destroyed it way before the next millenia… So he scratched out that idea. He thought maybe some sort of machine that could tell the time had survived, but he hasn’t seen a sign of any kind of civilization, let alone a machine that could tell the time. His thoughts wandered of any kind of sci-fi theory he’s seen. But just like before, he saw nothing…

Nothing from the year 2019.

Gen curled up onto his sheets. It has hit him again, the realization that there was nothing left from the year he knew. No buildings, no cars… no cola even…

He felt the sudden urge for a bottle.

As he realized he couldn’t sleep once again, he stepped outside of his living quarters and saw the stars in the sky. It was numerous, more than he could ever count.

Count…

That's when he thought of something… a completely ar-fetched-fay possibility...

Yes, there was no machine or anything that could tell the time, but the fact remained that time still moved forward, no matter what…

It was something insane. Something that no human being should be able to do, but it was possible…

He had heard rumours of a kid who counted the exact seconds within a month, and he had counted it exactly.

“To count the passing seconds…” Gen thought to himself, “To do that during all that time in the darkness…”

Many feelings he suddenly felt for this mystery counter. Excitement, pity, delight, fear... In order to do that, he would have had to remain conscious all that time… Gen eventually felt nothing and his mind went completely blank after a while. When Tsukasa revived him, he thought everything before was just a dream… a long 3720 year dream…

Gen gritted his teeth, he was nervous, he was scared, he was so lost in this new world, but to even think that there was a person like that, a human being that could do such a thing...

He had to find them… he had to find the person who could have done this feat… He had to know. He had to know this person. He had to pick him apart and understand his own way of thinking. He had to analyze everything about him. He had to know how and why would he do such a ridiculous yet logical thing.

He hadn't felt this eager in knowing a person he hasn't even met.

The rest of that night spent thinking about this person. He smiled at the thought of someone else being this unique.

It was like… to him it was like getting excited over a book he had heard only good reviews about.

Yes, he was skeptical, but the thought of someone like this.

It got him excited.

The next day, the third day, Tsukasa called for him after his meal.

He was called to be given a mission…

“Those dusty old fossils who used to be in power…” Tsukasa began as he led Gen to a path in the forest, it was a bit further from the Empire, “Are even less necessary in this natural world of stone…”

Gen didn’t hear a hint of hesitation from those words. In fact to him Tsukasa spoke of his ideals in such great confidence and conviction, that the mentalist felt a bit swayed by those. Especially when he said…

“But I see a massive amount of potential in you… Gen.”

Gen felt himself snap out of that trance. He knew Tsukasa had a lot of natural charisma, but even he as a master of minds, felt like he was grabbed instantly and quickly, as if he got there by himself. He cursed himself mentally, as he remembered how Tsukasa crushed the statue of his manager, again. And all of the other pieces of statues he has seen scattered everywhere, crushed with his bare hands or by his men.

“There’s something I need you for…” Gen’s attention was grabbed again as Tsukasa cleared some branches to reveal a treehouse, made by… concrete? He wondered. “And your skills as a mentalist will be invaluable…”

Gen saw on the side a few empty jars, crude makeshift spears… he was surprised that even the ladder that leads up to the treehouse was still sturdy. To him it looked like it was all abandoned.

But that wasn't where they went, rather, Tsukasa led him to a hut near the tree house. It had a worn out sign that said, “Laboratory”.

Tsukasa led him inside and the mentalist saw broken clay pots everywhere. He watched his step, as he moved in closer to see more and more broken pieces scattered everywhere. To him it was an obvious sign that whoever lived here scrambled to take everything and left. To the untrained eye that is.

Gen saw this was too intentional. It was too much of a mess for him. He thought maybe a scuffle, but that would have caused those shelves to fall apart. To him, it is as if the previous occupants just intentionally took those jars and smashed them.

“Follow them for me.” Tsukasa gave him his mission, as it also confirms Gen's deductions. “And get inside of their minds… Perhaps I'm being overly cautious, but I want you to track down this man Senku and tell me if he’s dead or hiding out somewhere…”

Senku…

That is the name of the person he was tasked to look for.

‘Senku…’ Gen thought to himself. He tried to think of anyone he knew by that name, none came to mind.

So he asked, “Who is Senku?”

“He, was the first of us to revive…” Tsukasa replied.

‘First? Don’t tell me…’

“He used his knowledge of science to create a formula to undo the petrification.” he continued as Gen took in this invaluable information, “That’s how he revived me…”

Gen couldn’t hide his surprise anymore.

‘This Senku person… revived Tsukasa? He created a formula to undo the petrification?’ The pieces started to fall into place...

“This man…” Tsukasa continued as Gen felt the man’s voice grew bitter, “His only desire is to revive everyone, no matter who they were…”

‘What? He… what? He wants to revive… everyone…?!'

“He’ll bring back the same people who ruined our world.... And they’ll make weapons…” Gen felt every word laced with pure hatred, as he still tried to take in everything.

“He was the most intelligent man alive, and that’s why I killed him myself…”

He saw Tsukasa’s eyes narrowed as he finished his sentence.

'He killed him…' Gen held back even his own expressions, 'He killed this Senku…'

When he first met Tsukasa in this new world, he was kind, considerate, gentle to everyone in the Empire and even to the animals. He would ensure that every part of every animal killed was put to use, even the organs. For Gen to hear him say that. For Tsukasa to kill another human being… he got even more scared of him.

Gen started to doubt himself. He wondered if there really was someone who could take down the Strongest Primate High Schooler. To kill the "smartest" man alive, as he called this Senku.

But even so, the fact that Tsukasa had to send him, a mentalist… to make sure that Senku is alive.

There was no doubt. Senku is alive.

He finally understood what he had to do.

Gen enjoyed it. He enjoyed experimenting and toying with the human mind and the limitless possibilities of the human psyche. He mostly used it for his own benefit and gain, but that's what the world, the previous world, taught him. To him adults were easy picking, even more so than teenagers and children. He knew as one grows older, the ideals and beliefs, and biases a person has learned will stick longer and thus harder to change or remove. Gen knew of this and exploited it to his heart's content. So it was child's play for him to figure out what had occured in this laboratory.

He asked Tsukasa if he could stay a bit more to inspect the area. The man let him, and asked if he knew the way back.

Gen knew the way back.

When he realized that he was finally alone, he quickly observed the area. He looked at the pieces of the broken jars, the stains on the floor and at the walls, he saw the various broken tools nearby. He then rushed into the tree house and saw the same mess as the lab. Gen saw this as a laughable way to make it look like they got scared and escaped.

Smartest man alive? More like the world's worst crook if he had ever seen one.

He remembered Tsukasa’s expressions, the hatred in his words and the shakiness of it. That was also obvious. Tsukasa was scared. Very scared. He only knew of Tsukasa as a fearless man who would stare down other fighters bigger and stronger than he was, and took them down easily. For someone to induce such paranoia and fear in him...

He has to know. He has to know who this Senku person is.

He just has to!

After gathering what he can from the area, he went back to the Empire. He gave Tsukasa what he could deduce from it, and said that he and his companions that he too figured this out from the tracks, that they probably dashed at around southeast to where the Empire was.

Tsukasa was impressed by him. He mentioned that the two companions were Taiju and Yuzuriha.

Gen faked a shock, well to everyone it looked like a real shock. He knew some of the bigger and heavier footsteps belonged to a heavyweight like Taiju, and smaller, lighter footsteps belonged to a woman, Yuzuriha fits that description.

Tsukasa explained to him that they returned after he had subsequently killed Senku and buried him in that direction. Gen was right it was southeast to where they were, Hakone (or it would have used to be considering the lack of any buildings).

He also mentioned that they were Senku's best friends.

That's what stood out the most.

Gen wondered to himself as to why they were kept under surveillance. Now it made sense, Tsukasa was worried that they might turn on him eventually. Even with the power difference, there was an instilled fear that Senku would come back for them and have a scientific weapon that could be used to defeat him.

That's what the mentalist deduced at least.

So Taiju and Yuzuriha were… no are Senku's friends. He filed that important tidbit for later.

Tsukasa had given him information that was more valuable than even he thought.

He was also told of a blond haired, blue eyed girl that seemed to have no knowledge of science and had a very primitive way of thinking. He was (truly this time) shocked to hear that there is a possibility of a village of primitives in that area, and that Senku might have made contact with them if that was the case. So now he had a destination in mind.

Hakone. Around a two day walk from where they were now. Gen didn't particularly like the idea of walking so far and so long, but his desire to meet this Senku was what pushed him further.

Before he left, he asked Yuzuriha for some extra materials and a cutting tool. Part of him wanted to tell them that he was going to see Senku, just to gauge their reactions. He knew if they didn't react to what he expected it, then it was truly confirmed that Senku is alive.

But he held his tongue on that. He didn't want to risk then getting caught on this mess.

Gen himself haven't really decided on if this Senku really is the person he was looking for. If he was the mystery counter. All he knew was that, he was a threat to Tsukasa's ideal world.

The smartest man alive vs the strongest man alive.

A typical brain vs brawn...

His journey was long and painful, especially since he didn’t wear any shoes. Along the way he picked up many nightshade flowers and stored them into various hidden sacks underneath his clothes. He even found many berries and even some small animals he could use to make fake blood bags for his own protection, just in case everything went downhill for him. He knew when to expect the worst. After all, he made a living from expecting the worst in people and exploiting it.

His journey took way longer than two days. He was exhausted, yes, but every step further was one step closer to meeting this Senku. He thought it was worth it.

From what he knew about the positions of his shadows, he had deduced it was around noon. He walked further and further through the forest, and that's when he heard something, music. He heard music playing nearby, he walked closer to the source, and saw it, clear as day. A village, built on two small peninsulas connected by a bridge.

It was the primitive village that Tsukasa told him about. There were primitives living in this area.

And in front of it was…

Well to his surprise. It was a ramen stand.

Gen approached the stand closer then was quickly given a bowl of said ramen by a child wearing a melon mask over her head. He thought it was kind of cute.

He felt a pang of hunger as he took a whiff of the bowl on his hands. It was a crude version of ramen that he knew, but well, he supposed it was still ramen. So he took a bite.

Gen nearly gagged from the taste.

He remained very quiet despite the complete awfulness the dish had. He couldn’t even call this ramen. He heard this was foxtail millet ramen.

Once again he nearly gagged at the thought of foxtail. Foxtail, was what the noodles were made out of. He could feel the grainy texture and the bitter aftertaste of the ramen.

It was ositive-pay awful!

But he heard nothing but praises for this dish. Gen peered to see other people wearing similar clothes like the one the melon girl wore. It looked like they were almost inhaling the ramen. It was a complete consensus that it was the best thing they've ever had.

That's one other thing that hits Gen.

He sighs and misses something way more than ramen right now.

One of them quickly asked for seconds and Gen sighed and realized with the stereotypical glutton man. He supposed that in any kind of era there's always a glutton.

Then his attention quickly changed when he saw the man at the stand itself, putting the ramen together.

His hair stood out the most, literally. Even at the year 2019, he would have easily stood out. He wondered if it's dyed or if he used any hair products. Almost every bit of his hair stood upwards defying gravity. To Gen he looked like a walking giant leek or bok choy. Then when he turned sideways, that's when Gen finally saw his face. He looked sweaty and tired, but his face is full of eagerness and pride, that admittingly seemed contagious. The most noticeable features were the two jagged scars that lined and bent up from his forehead down to this eye line and just below the eyelid. The Mentalist instinctively touched his own scar.

He remembered the explanation Tsukasa gave him. That these scars are just a side effect of the depetrification process.

Gen remembered the day when he saw his reflection at the river and saw the scar running underneath his left eyelid, where it turned to shape his mouth then went straight down his chain and his neck. To him this was a reminder that he was petrified and awakened. Which meant, this man was…

“Are you the man who made this incredible food?” He heard a young girl approach the man with such eagerness and obvious intent of flirting, “the one called, Senku?”

Senku…

This green haired, prideful, obviously exhausted guy...

Is Senku?

Gen tried hard to cover his laughter. This was the man that Tsukasa, the strongest primate high school, was scared about? He looked physically weak. Everything about him was so lanky and skinny. It completed the giant walking vegetable set. Big green leaves and a nimble easily breakable stem.

He was….

'This was the man who wrote that date on the tree isn't it?'

He saw a familiar equation written on Senku’s outfit.

E=mc2

'Yeah… definitely the science nerd around here.' Gen chuckled internally, 'Who the hell writes that on their own clothes?!'

When the girl asked Senku what kind of girls he liked Senku simply answered this:

"A kind that would pump a ton of oxygen into my furnace"

Gen groaned internally at that answer

'And he's uninterested at romance. Like he's some sort of a Shonen protagonist…'

Gen managed to breathe and calmed himself in order to prevent getting noticed by the villagers. Senku had made the ramen for them. It was errible-tay. He could barely call this food.

'So this is what Tsukasa was talking about.' Gen just placed everything together in his head, 'This Senku is a scientist, through and through. He made the depetrification formula, he made this ramen, he has that silly equation on his clothes, he even has a furnace! I see why Tsukasa-chan fears him… but…'

Gen had to make sure. He wasn't going to just mingle with him and the primitives.

The blond villager girl whom Gen deduced as quite strong, and possibly the girl that Tsukasa ran into before, even expressed her displeasure at that answer. He wondered if she had some feelings for this Senku person.

The Mentalist admits that Senku is quite handsome. It was a shame to him that he isn't interested in romance. He would have loved to have gotten closer to him. But he supposed that he still has a job to do.

Well to everyone in the Empire of Might it was his job.

To Gen….

It was some assurance.

If this Senku is what he thought he was, that this Senku is the man that striked fear into Tsukasa's heart.

This handsome, nerdy, passionate man…

Might be the counter he was looking for.

Better strike while the iron's hot….

"Ah… this ramen is making me wickedly thirsty…" Gen admitted to himself, out loud for everyone else to hear. "A cola, would be great…"

And with that, Gen had Senku's undivided attention.

The Mentalist then went to work, fully analyzing this Senku to his heart's content.

Little that he knew what would happen later that within the past 3700+ years of his life, would change for the better.

'This is worth it…'

#dr stone #dr. stone #asagiri gen #shishio tsukasa #ishigami senku #fanfic #dcst #ogawa yuzuriha #ooki taiju #the psychoanalysis of Asagiri Gen

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porchwood · 5 years

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Hi just so I understand cause i keep waiting for it and it doesnt seem likely to happen have you kind of fallen out of love with wtm? and everlark in general tbh? cause ive been following you for a while now and you always had lil quotes and pictures and things that reminded you inspired you whatever it was about katniss and wtm and now alllll it is is gadge i followed you because personally i love what you did with everlark and im just wondering if thats gone and not foreseeable any time soon?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how to answer this… It’s afair question - to a point. If you’re more of a drop-in person (like me) thanlive-on-the-dash, coming back to find my blog awash in Gadge might have beenquite upsetting. There are several reasons for the current state of things:

1. Life has been driving me into the ground since December26, 2013. (Yes, going on six straight years.) If you were a WtM reader from thebeginning, you may recall that I was pretty energetic and prolific in 2012-2013.Oh, there were tough times, but nothing like what started on the aforementioneddate (a car accident where I was in the “bystander” vehicle and it still got totaled)and has continued relentlessly ever since. Sometimes adversity leads to greatcreativity and sometimes it turns you into a depressed, exhausted, reclusivelump, and the past 5+ years have seen periods of both from me. These past 18months have been exceptionally awful (and expensive), resulting in very littlewriting at all, about any pairing.

2. Writing WtM takes a lot out of me. I don’t know whether thisis common knowledge or not, but it’s the gospel truth. I love that world, Ilove that version of Everlark, but every chapter requires so much hard work, itmakes me tired just to think of it. Not to mention, over the past couple of chaptersEverlark have been pushing for more intimacy than the plot/timeline allows, andso I’ve been struggling with how I want to handle that. Do I fight them andstick to the plan? (I can’t advance the timeline for several reasons.) Do I tryto figure out a cheat for them? They’ve got minds of their own and have changedmy plans multiple times, but this is something they genuinely can’t have, and Ihave to fight them on it. ☹ Which is sad, frustrating, and exhausting.

3. I’m a multi-pairing shipper, and have been from about 3chapters into WtM. Which means that my Everlark fics almost always feature asecondary pairing (or more than one), and sometimes I’ll get a plot bunny for afic about a pairing other than Everlark. Most writers in the THG fandom exclusivelywrite their OTP, whatever the plot bunny, but I find that some plot bunnies don’tfit Everlark as well as they do another pairing. (This is why I’ll never write aBeauty and the Beast Everlark fic unless Katniss is the “Beast,” if you will.)

4. The Everlark fandom is…tricky. I’ve never fit in there. Idon’t write Everlark the way the majority of fans see them (except for Peetabeing “sweet,” I guess), I hated the movies (I refuse to see MJ 1 or 2), and I’vemanaged to really rub some people the wrong way over the years –unintentionally, and for a variety of reasons – all of which leaves me feeling kinda down about Everlark in general. Don’t misunderstand me: I love Everlarkand WtM, but it’s really isolating to be this sad little island of unpopularopinions and unwelcome side-ships. That’s the part I really wish I could makeyou understand. For six years I’ve had Christopher Plummer in my head saying, “You’llnever be one of them,” and he’s so, cruelly, right. I want to cry every time Ithink of Embracing the Season (my E-rated Everlark modern AU oneshot for Lovein Panem - lots of daring for me!) because I poured heart and soul into that andit still wasn’t the Everlark that people wanted.

5. About a year and a half ago (when Strawberry Time reallytook off of its own accord) I participated in Gadge Day 2017, working my buttoff to find and schedule (and tag) over 100 carefully chosen Gale/Madge/Gadge aestheticposts, and for lack of a better way to say it: it turned on my Gadge-dar. After that, thosekinds of posts just leapt out at me whenever I had a chance to scroll, and forseveral months I wasn’t sure what to do with that. With a little encouragementfrom @ghtlovesthg, I came up with #march madgeness – wherein I turned my Tumblrinto Madge/Gadge-land for one month, and it was a blast. (Side-stepping Gadgefor a moment: Madge is a highly underappreciated and underused character,especially in fic/on Tumblr and I love splashing the dash with Madge-love.) Thenext month I launched a run of pent-up Everlark posts (i.e., regularprogramming), but I missed my Madge, so I instituted #madge monday – one day aweek when I could splash the dash with Madge/Gadge. At every juncture I gavepeople tags to block if they didn’t want to see this content (though I stillget unfollows every time I post, alas). I participated in last summer’s THG Reread– on the fringe of it, but my posts (reblogs and meta) were strongly Everlark-focusedagain during that time. So there’s definitely still been Everlark on my blog,but if you’re just dropping in (or for that matter, glancing at my archive), you’regoing to see a majority of Madge/Gadge.

6. Frankly, Gadge is fun. It’s a completely different dynamicthan Everlark, with less pressure to create something transcendent, and whenthe chips are down, I’m more likely to work on something that isn’t my six-years-runningopus. This spring, in the midst of lots of awfulness, I finally wrote a piecethat I’ve had in my head for years – The Best Part of Waking Up – with a differentpairing featured in each drabble “chapter,” including Gadge, Luka/Johanna (whoI’ve been wanting to put out there for AGES) and Jack/Raisa. I haven’t beenable to write quickly in years, and I think I finished those three “chapters”in about two days, maybe three. I completed the Raisa drabble in a couple ofhours and I consider it one of the best things I’ve ever written. (Honestly, ifa pairing was going to topple Everlark in my heart, it would be Jack/Raisa, i.e.,Mr. Everdeen/Mrs. Mellark. I love them to distraction.) Once upon a time I could drabble/sprint Everlark too – notoften, but I could manage it. Maybe it’ll happen again someday, but for thetime being, when I write in quick eager bursts, it’s usually about aside-pairing.

7. Because I just need to say it: about a year ago, I set up a secondary Tumblr for almost all my side-interests and ships outside of THG. When I first joined Tumblr, porchwood was just a fun page where I posted whatever struck my fancy (pretty things, funny things, whatever I liked), and over the next few years, I honed it into a pretty “writer’s notebook” for WtM and my other THG fics (related quotes, aesthetic posts, writing check-ins, etc.). When Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out, I shared a handful of posts pertaining to a new ship (not a new direction for my blog or writing, just sharing my excitement) and it was made very clear to me that people didn’t want to see that content on my page. So when I started watching Voltron: Legendary Defender, I had a sneaking suspicion people wouldn’t want to hear about those ships either. So I started an entirely new Tumblr for that content, and every so often I accidentally post something to the wrong page, which I immediately correct in horror, but people still unfollow. Point being: this blog is THG (and a few personal life updates) ONLY, with a pretty consistent aesthetic. I hide literally everything else that I’m interested in so you don’t have to be bothered by it. Is it really so unacceptable for me to have side-ships (complementary to the main pairing, not threatening to them) in the same universe??

8. Believe it or not, I’ve been working on WtM all along,just not making any massive strides. I tried to chip away at the current chapterduring Camp Nanowrimo last July, and it was a disaster. I thought joining awriting group would be helpful, but I didn’t realize that Camp Nano is basicallya lot of writing sprints in which you try to churn out as many words aspossible, which you then report to your “cabin” – and that’s the onlyinteraction with your fellow writers. I can’t write like that anymore (seeabove) and especially not when it comes to WtM, so I got discouraged veryquickly and sort of drifted away. I reattempted Nano on my own in April and wrotealmost 15K words, but in that instance I was really just using the Nano platform toset and reach a goal (which I didn’t ☹ ); I wasn’t in a cabin and didn’t interact with anyother writers, except my friend @ghtlovesthg, who read the finished portion.

9. I want to finish this dang chapter so much, and frankly, theonly way that’s going to happen is if life gets a little better and I holemyself up with my laptop for hours on end for weeks at a time – and somemagical being comes to support/cheer/comfort me while I do so. It’s currentlysitting at about 25K and I anticipate it will need to be at least double that,which is beyond ridiculous, but that’s the nature of WtM. The chapters are asmany words as it takes.

TL, DR: I still love Everlark and I’m still working on WtM, but my life has been extremely difficult for a very long time and I don’t have a great Everlark lifeline. Gadge and all my other ships are fun, and most of the Gadge you see on my Tumblr is aesthetic stuff for themed days/months/occasions. Anything non-THG goes on my sideblog.

#queued #i'm sorry to be snappy #i understand the confusion #and i'm not happy that i'm not finishing wtm either #ask #gade #side-ships #anon

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