#but aren't actually in the fic

[bixels]

I feel like I've seen most of what interests me in FiMFiction for the time being, so I read through some good ol' reliable Stardew Valley fanfics last night, only to realize.

Haley x Female Farmer is basically Rarijack. Rarijack adjacent.

#personal #delete later #not art #unfortunate that i'm really not into the BIG popular ships in stardew #like. i downloaded talkohlooey's character sprites for my sdv because the men just look so much better #with talkohlooey sebastian actually looks like a cute guy i'd wanna date. default seb looks like a very very specific white boy. #like. the mod of an anime community discord server. #he looks like every white anime fan i knew in high school who very intentionally tried to look and dress more asian #so unfortunately i'm not really into any of the male bachelors. They are All White. #I went after Alex at first but he's a white bread jock. #So I'm really not interested in ships with Shane or Elliot or Sebastian which make up 2/3 of the romance fics #I do think Harvey is cute he has a lot of personality and he's a sweetheart #stardew expanded has victor AND olivia which is such a fucking win. Asians fuck yeah #I usually pursue Penny. Fluttershy vibes lmao #hopefully chocolatier has some dateable men who Aren't White. #Really can't recommend Talkohlooey's sprites more. Fantastic art style AND character design direction to boot. They made Emily Not #Terrifying Looking which is incredible. #still wish you could date the milfs though who said that #i said it. i'm fessing up. why did concernedape put all these women in unfulfilling marriages with mediocre/crappy men #what are you getting at.

[spinnysocks]

the frenemies of all time

it was so hard to find pictures of them in the same shots 😭 they're in the same scenes all the time but not the same shots- i think it's actually a purposeful choice by the animators to show they're not actually allied, which i think is cool

#i could watch an entire series JUST about these guys #idk they're so interesting #you can argue that their interactions are shallow & not thought out BUT I ARGUE DIFFERENT #they could definitely be developed 👀 #rip i couldn't find a photo with reirei and mzingo. tbf the vultures aren't in all the battles #or reirei and ushari #or mzingo and ushari #but its fine #this is making me realise janja is basically the main character of the outlands lol #but yeah. they're so interesting to me #the forced bonding after jasiri's reformation of the outlands would be so funny #can i just say. the shot of mzingo and kiburi is hilarious LMAO #anyway i'll stop rambling now... #ME FORGETTING I WROTE A FIC ABOUT JUST THEM- #okay i'll actually shut up now #the lion guard #tlg #tlg outlanders #tlg leaders #scar's army #janja #mzingo #reirei #ushari #kiburi

[phantomrose96]

is a Riteru read of ABoT the intended one?

It can be if you want it to be buddy. Go enjoy the world!

More genuine answer: I'm an aro-ace writer with a long long streak of gen-fic. Shipping doesn't interest me. I don't hate it; it just doesn't click for me at all. I joke that the only way romance ends up in the story is if it's a plot-necessity (Tetsuo and Jun are there because 'married man suspected of having an affair' is what pulls Reigen into the entire Mogami-possession plot. The Kageyama parents are married because they're, well, the parents. Teru and Mei's relationship is a joke until it's plot-relevant.)

So to me, I'm not writing Ritsu and Teru's relationship as a ship. But also? This is all pretend. It's all transformative. This is for fun. I absolutely know that if I were a ship-writer, Riteru would be the obvious choice. I know they're one angry-kiss away from being someone's enemies to lovers fic. So if you look at Ritsu and Teru in ABoT and say "they're holding hands, to me", go right ahead, go hog-wild, come play Barbies with me.

#my aromantic-agenda is to write fic that spotlights the power importance and intricacies of all kinds of platonic love #and ive done that in SPADES in ABoT #a Riteru read doesn't ruin any of that #so it's whatever you want #in my pocket. i like an aroace Ritsu and pan Teru read #but the aforementioned 'this is for fun pretend. go wild' trumps that totally #we're only alive a short time. go have some Riteru if you want #oh also my OTHER joke is that 'all romance drama in ABoT is actually just bait-and-switch nefarious spirit possession' #Tetsuo is having an affair? Nope! Spirit possession #Teru is cheating on Mei with Ichi? Nope! Saving Ichi from possession #Ichi is interested in Ritsu? Nope! Looking for dirt on spirit possession #my other other joke is that our name-combinations aren't ships. theyre possession dynamics #Tetsugami. not to be mistaken for Tetsuo x Mogami. is the spirit dynamic of Mogami possessing Tetsuo #We got Reigami #We got Slipzato #We got Gimrits #Slipakane Sliphisao #Sorry fresh out of romance but we DO have a 13 year old losing his soul to the corruption of being a spirit-powered-mecha-suit if you want

[stickyspeckledlight]

Boop! 🐾

(L didn't get this out yesterday but I was also a smidge busy balduring my gates and stockpiling knock off thin mints)

Unfortunately I do not have enough thoughts to write a drabble, but yan!aventurine would totally boop you.

The worst part is that you have no one to blame but yourself. On one particular night, when you weren't quite pushed to your limit but where your thoughts certainly did verge on the homicidal, an idea crosses your mind that, you believe to be utter genius in the moment: if you cannot overpower him or outwit him, then you certainly can use your meager mental faculties to bamboozle the fucker.

It's ingenious, you're certain! A touch that is not provocative, not aggressive, but OH so...powerful. A primordial innocence primed with mischief and tomfoolery. An action of such utter stupidity that no one in their right mind could even begin to react to.

He has been attempting to goad you into playing one of his games for the past five centuries (and no, you affirm that your sense of time is quite in order), and from having performed this song and dance innumerous times, it is about now when he says or does something to make you give in, and then entraps you in his hold before you can escape.

It is you who takes the initiative.

A demented grin full of malice and desperation spreads on your face as you ready your finger, and rush over to him, and

Boop! right on his nose.

And it works. He is too stunned; either by the stupidity of the situation, or that you've initiated contact. But you do not fret over the reason. You seize the opportunity and slip into the bathroom, locking it and securing it with a chair you grabbed for good measure. In the throes of your victory, no rational thought crosses your mind.

But all actions have consequences, and this very true fact catches up to you. Aventurine has not come banging on the door or mocking you as you thought he would. You have not heard from him at all. This is a good thing, but it makes you nervous---compounded by the fact you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.

Sure, you could theoretically survive here for three weeks, as the only thing you'd be lacking was food. You had a toilet, and a shower and bath to decompress in, even! And if you wanted to lay down? You could merely set up a haven of comfort with the millions of towels Aventurine keeps in his gargantuan bathroom. It was a great place to bunker in for sure!

.......but do you really want to starve? Like, do you really, really, really want to put yourself through that over him? You do hate him and want to see him suffer, but your mother and every self-help book ever says that you should love yourself! And unfortunately and fortunately for you, you do love yourself enough to not want to go through it. But, you can at least be strategic about it. Nabbing supplies in the night? No, Aventurine has proven himself capable of operating without a wink of sleep for good knows how long. The key to this operation is to leave when he's left! Ahahaha! Good job, you! You really are a bonafide genius! Nous ought to send you an invitation to the ranks of the Society!

(you're aware that he could just bust down your door without issue, but you'll take reprieve when you can get it, you know?)

So, you wait, and keep on waiting even after you hear the entrance close. You will not take any risks, and you wait for what you think is a good hour or three. And then, you emerge.

You are swift and precise, making a beeline towards the kitchen to stock up, and just as you are about to open the cabinet to nab a box of succulent bioengineered cheese crackers---

"Boop!" a gentle pressure mounts on your nose.

There really isn't any winning with this guy, you think. After this nasty surprise, he "revokes your bathroom privileges," mounting it with a lock and essentially requiring his permission with the key card he gives you for it.

And worst of all, your concept of utter genius comes to haunt you in your every waking moment. Coming home from a long day of work? Boop! Threatening your family and friends? Boop! Playing Animal Walking? Boop! Throwing you into a bare room handcrafted for sensory deprivation? Boop! Post nut clarity? Boop!

You then see the one glaring folly in your initial thought process: why did you ever assume Aventurine to be in the right mind in any way or any situation?!

#lol i wonder if i can even post this to ao3 #eh maybe i can adpat it into an actual drabble but also this is so inherently tied to tumblr that it's tough #it's fine i wrote this in like twenty minutes or something as a breather from actual fic writing lmao #no what do you mean i have to read three chapters before next class that's stupid #yandere #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine hsr #reader takes home a massive L #well then again they aren't home but aventurine would also then beg to differ #yandere aventurine x reader

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

There are only so many fanfics that use the entirety of DC as cardboard cutouts to prop up bat family characters that I can read before I go berserk.

I swear to god. Every character that has ever been shipped with a bat or coexists on the same team as a bat is owed an apology.

How many Young Justice fanfics that solely revolve around Tim must exist? How many Titans fanfics centered only on Dick? Why is it a herculean task to find a Justice League fanfic without Bruce as the main character?

And then even when you do find a fic that seems like it's balanced, everything still revolves around the bat. Like Kon, Cassie and Bart have nothing else going on in their lives except Tim and Tim's issues or thinking about Tim. Like Donna and Wally and Roy just cannot function if they aren't spending every waking moment thinking about Dick.

I'm... Guys. I'm at my limit. I swear to god. We need to make a Batman tag and surgically remove all these fics and quarantine them there. We'll keep the actual DC fics and they can do whatever the fuck they want in their own tag. It's getting ridiculous how hard it is to find fanfic that's actually DC related and isn't just 'The BatFam Show'.

#im going INSANE #i literally just have to filter out the batfam characters at this point #and even that doesn't help sometimes #holy shit guys what is GOING ON #seriously if i see one more fic thats all 'haha the justice league meets the batfam and they're so shocked! 😯 because they're crazy 🤣' #i don't know how to explain to you people that THEY HAVE SEEN WEIRDER #a bunch of ninja kids aren't even making the top ten weirdest moments my dude. like. at all. #not even remotely #i can't stress ENOUGH how normal that would be to them #anyway im going fucking bonkers over here #dc #dc comics #or god fucking damnit the YJ fics that literally just have Kon's life revolving around Tim #and Cassie and Bart are just background scenary. and only exist to push Kon and Tim together. I'm going to go fucking nuts #ship whoever you want but at least have the character have an actual character beyond 'love interest' #also jfc. every. single. birdflash fic. that has Wally just be a love interest with literally nothing fucking else going on #except his relationship with Dick. work? family? life? villains?? nope! no he's just madly in love with Dick and cute and thats it! #im GOING INSANE

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 39.5

(this takes place just before their first day back to school after the events of season one)

They slip out of the trailer. 

The park is just waking up around them, a few birds chirping, Mr. Robinson’s car starting up as he drives to work. One of their older neighbors must have fallen asleep with the television on – he can hear its static blaring all the way out here. 

It makes a shiver run up his spine. That almost familiar, eerie sound that resonates through a Demogorgon’s call.

But, the sun is shining and Steve’s safe and whole and warm at his side. So, he brushes it off, skipping over to the passenger side of the van and holds it open for Steve with a bow. 

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s no more desperation bleeding into his expression. He’s like a caged bird, freed. He even settles his fingers daintily into Eddie’s flourished out hand, like he’s a maiden being helped into a carriage. 

Eddie closes the door once all of Steve’s limbs are in and accounted for, and damn near skips around the front of the van and flings himself into the driver’s seat. 

Dio blares out of his speakers when he turns the key until Steve reaches over to turn the dial down. Eddie tries to pout about it but the edges of his mouth keep turning up.

Steve’s slumped over in the passenger seat, arms crossed as he lolls his head sideways against the headrest to glare over at Eddie. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He bites his lip against a grin as Steve huffs and rolls his head the other direction to glare out his window. 

Eddie taps his fingers to the quiet beat of the song, blood sizzling with anticipation. 

It’s a short drive, made longer by the careful way he’s stopping and starting, taking each turn ten below his usual. There’s precious cargo barely on the mend in here, and he won’t risk damaging it any more.

He pulls into an empty parking space, easing his foot onto the break. There’s only one other car in the lot, but the open sign in the front window of the diner is lit up. It’s a lurid red, but Eddie’s willing to forgive it.

“This is the surprise?” Steve asks. He’s not glaring anymore, but he’s looking doubtfully out of the windshield, eyebrows raised as he eyes the diner’s front door like he’s never seen it before. “Breakfast?”

Eddie reaches over to pinch his side – softly, gently – until Steve laughs that honking pig laugh that Eddie loves so much and has so rarely heard.

“You don’t remember?” Eddie asks, teasing. “You said you’d kill for some bacon, and now you don’t even want to go in?”

There’s something fathomless in Steve’s eyes as he finally looks over at Eddie. It makes heat pool in Eddie’s gut, sinking into him until he’s aflame. He wants to scoop out Steve’s brain, figure out what’s ticking away in there. He wants to rip out one of Steve’s eyelashes and make a wish. 

“I remember,” Steve murmurs, looking up into Eddie’s eyes. 

He still looks sallow and tired, but there’s a rudy pink blooming on his cheeks by the time Eddie rounds the van again to open his door. He doesn’t hold out his hand this time, but Steve still settles his fingers onto Eddie’s shoulder and uses it to lever himself up and out.

Eddie rushes back around to lock the van. Steve doesn’t wait for him, but he holds the door open wide to let Eddie in. There’s a little bell dangling off the handle that jingles under Steve’s shaky grip. 

Eddie hurries in. 

The waitress moves at her usual sleepy pace, calling out a quiet, “mornin’”, as she heads over to their chosen booth with unnecessary menus. 

Her eyes widen when she catches sight of Steve’s state, but she doesn’t comment, just takes their orders and walks away without writing anything down.

They settle into sleepy silence. 

Eddie’s breath stutters in his lungs when he feels Steve’s foot hook atop his under the booth. He taps the toes of his boot three times against Steve’s tennis shoe and smiles across at him.

The cook must be raring to go because it takes less than ten minutes for their waitress to round the partition, arms laden with dishes piled high with food. 

Eddie’d followed Steve’s lead, so there’s two of everything. The pancakes are fluffy, squares of butter melting at their centers, sides of warmed maple syrup just waiting to be poured. The hashbrowns are greasy and crip on the outside, soft on the center.

The bacon’s bubbling with fat, edges crisp, steam still rising from its surface. Fresh off the griddle. Eddie skewers a piece on his fork. He thrusts it up toward the middle of the table, nudging Steve’s sneaker repeatedly.

“What?” 

“A toast!” Eddie calls, beaming across at Steve when he finally gets with the program and raises his own fork and its dangling bacon. Eddie clinks their forks together. Fat drops in fat drops down onto the previously clean table. “To fresh starts!”

Steve brings his fork down to his mouth and takes a huge bite, closing his eyes in apparent ecstasy. “To good bacon.”

“And a monster free life.”

“And staying right-side-up.”

“Here, here!” Eddie cries, ignoring the way the waitress is glaring at the mess and ruckus their making. 

Because Steve’s smiling down at his food, taking big, savoring bites. The edges of the morning have been sanded down. 

Besides, it’s only fair. All Eddie had wanted when he got out was to hug Uncle Wayne, and he had. Steve doesn’t have a Wayne, so if he wants bacon, he gets bacon.

Eddie’d make sure of it, for as long as Steve will let him.

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

#realized while editing that Steve had said his greatest wish during truth or dare was to get bacon at the diner and then they just never go? #anyway. added this! #my fic #steddie upsidedown au #anyway. not the update everyone wanted probably but honestly i found a COUPLE loose threads while editing so i'll probably make my way #all the way through before finishing the end. to make sure there aren't any more that I actually care about

[onebizarrekai]

guys why does the tag look like this

#I can't believe they actually named him dreamswap sans #HOLD ON SOMEONE WROTE A 180K FIC ABOUT DREAMSWAP?? #oh my god wait people write fics about dreamswap that aren't just like oneshot prompt requests #I don't think I've checked this tag in years #random stuff

[roomy-ghosted]

My feelings towards ao3 this morning.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #like-i get it. but- #please. please for the love of god. just fluff or non-sexual fics. #for five seconds. #please. #I can only handle so much corn. especially when it's almost all geared just towards women. #this is all /lh i dont actually care all that much- but there comes a point where theres too much and all a man wants to do #is hold another man close. or go on perfume dates or pottery lessons with another man. #small things to help healing or gentle things or silly playful things. #hell- even taking care of all the spawn with Astarion in the bad ending- #why are all the bad ending fics ive seen corn btw? I've seen like- zero non-corn ones. #i get it. I get the vibe. but like- also. consider. like- maybe I wanna read angst with. with no corn?? please? #I've got 4 unposted fluffy fics im working on. One being hurt-comfort with some extra hurt #which i had to stop writing for a bit today because it was hurting a bit TOO much. #but yea. a little less corn for Astarion? for those who aren't horndogs? please? or just don't wanna fuck him because they #dont wanna hurt him more- (im not at the point in game where he's comfy with sex again yet-) #BESIDES GALE IN THE WAVEMOTHER ROBES IS RIGHT THERE PEOPLE- #LIKE COME ON. IF YOU'RE GONNA SEXUALISE A MAN HE'S RIGHT THERE WITH HIS PUPPY DOG EYES AN HAIRY CHEST. #There needs to be more sexualisation of Gale. NO I don't take no for an answer (Astarion is still my favourite though-)

[crimsonlovebartylus]

Presidential election - Orion and Monty are running for president.

James family are the democrats and Regulus family are the republicans, so they are always bickering at events and you think they would be endgame (like some RWRB bullshit) but plot twist,

they aren't.

They actually fall in love with two different people -

James, is smitten, by chilean socialist protestor Lily. Who he sees at every political event, protesting and once threw a tomato at him.

Regulus, falls in love with bodyguard Barty, who also is in love with him since he was assigned the position. (pining)

#this would actually be an interesting fic #regulus black #barty crouch jr #bartylus #lily evans #james potter #the marauders #harry potter #marauders #jegulus #but they aren't end game :( #ao3 writer #gay dead wizards

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

here's some tidbits from the Laughingstock Misunderstanding fic outline, just 'cause i got mild amusement outta them and thought y'all might too <3

#THESE AREN'T BLURRY I SWEAR TUMBLR JUST KILLS THE QUALITY TILL YA CLICK ON EM #hopefully it provides some Entertainment during this dry spell. this Drought #im slowly chipping away at the outline whenever the Feels hit me #it... amuses me #i am both the king and the jester in my court #but no fr the funniest part of this lil plot To Me #is how frank/julie/poppy have no clue about the drama thats been going on in their tiny neighborhood #like... literally everyone else is so Involved #poppy: oh howdy seemed so mellow this morning i wonder whats wrong #frank: yes... come to think of it i havent been bothered by barnaby in a while #julie: well that just doesnt sound like either of them! #and then they all hum and sip tea and change the conversation topic #absolutely unprompted #outlining my beloved.... #its writing without having to write. diet writing #and room to throw in memes to my hearts content #so that i can have a Chuckle while i go through the arduous torture of actually writing <3 #mannnnnn i wanna write this fic so bad #i will get there i will get there Eventually #for now it will live in my brain in my tags in my outline

[shanastoryteller]

Hi! Do you have fave Harry Potter fics?

anything by astolat

#asks #anon #i actually haven't read a ton of hp fics on ao3 #most of them aren't to my taste #oh but back in the day when i was lurking on fanfiction.net and before hbp came out #i was a big fan of snape and harry fics #i could probably find some of them i remember liking but honestly now that we know he just sort of sucks idk if they'll hit the same #remember severitus #who else is old enough to remember that

[tswwwit]

i’m sooo curious on bill meeting dipper’s parents. i think i remember you mentioning at one point they kinda sucked and treated dip especially bad. i’m sure that’s caused a lot of his long term mental health/self esteem issues and i can’t help but think his husband wouldn’t be too thrilled about that. also they don’t even know he’s married so that’s a whole other thing lol

In the Familiar AU, Dipper's parents shipped him and Mabel off to Grunkle Stan back when they were twelve, actually!

This was initially excused as the twins 'needing to get used to having magic'. Which makes sense! Magical puberty is a heck of a thing, and getting some training's useful to cut down on random magic surges.

But by the end of the summer, they hadn't made any plans for picking the kids up. This when Stan twigged to the real situation.

And by the end of that year, Dipper knew his 'paranoid' assumption was absolutely correct.

So the twins grew up in Gravity Falls, with only very occasional visits back 'home'. Contact's been sporadic, and Mabel's been the one who's clung more to their parent's attention. Dipper hasn't spoken to them unless forced to in years.

So yeah! Bill's not exactly thrilled with the parents - but lucky for them, they haven't met him yet! And they definitely don't know about the marriage. Much less anything else.

#answers #In summary: The twins' parents found out their kids were magical and decided they Just Couldn't Deal with that #They're not magical themselves and giving your kids some Magic Training is a good idea #But at some point you need to actually *take them back* #Which they just. Didn't #Dipper abso-friggin-lutely has a whole mess of issues from that #Abandonment's a big one. Being worth something and good at something? Yep that's an issue right there #Not the least of which is that Mabel as a more Talented and Powerful magic user got more attention when they were still there #Then continued to get more attention via phone call when they weren't #Mabel's got some REALLY rose-colored glasses on about the situation #Dipper sees it for the 'well my kids are freaks but at least one of them is a Cool Freak' it is #That's a fact he's been stewing on for *ages*. A fact bomb that he could theoretically drop on his sister but never did #Needless to say he got the brunt of the Issues™ but Mabel's got her own in turn #I'm also betting there's more than a dash of homophobia in their parents considering their reaction just to Magic #So the parents aren't going to be very thrilled about either of their partners #In my head I picture the parents wanting a Totally Picturesque Family #And creating the visual of one is easier if you only have Pictures of the kids instead of them being there and being themselves #In summary: Yeah The Parents Suck #I started a fic for this once and I still intend to write one but that's a later type of project #I gotta have the right start for it to flow well

[suddencolds]

Purely Instinctive | Ki//ller Pet//er

Extremely competent assassin who handles every difficult situation inventively and with ease? What if he fell ill... 😭 (4.2k words)

This is a little different from what I usually write, but I've been reading Ki//ller Pe//ter on Webt//oon (link), and... um, this fic practically wrote itself. This might be the most self-indulgent thing I've written this year. Let's not talk about it 😭

For the sake of the fic, all characters are in their early twenties (aside from Peter, who is obviously a lot older). If you haven't read the series, they're all assassins who work for an organization called the Gl//ory Club. That's pretty much all you need to know :)

—

Here's Peter (under his current identity, Sun-Gu Kim) and Yuna:

—

The drive to the warehouse is unusually quiet.

The mission is simple—find an international spy, currently en route to escape via a ship which departs from the harbor at 6am, holding onto highly classified documents which he���s not supposed to have. The moment he steps foot off of Korean land, he will become much more difficult to apprehend—the ship the target is planning to take is a large cargo ship, its whereabouts easily tracked, but the Glory Club bounty has specified that the target will most likely part ways from the cargo ship on a small rowboat. There’s no telling at what point he’ll split off from the cargo ship, or where he’ll be headed next, which means:

They have only two hours to apprehend the subject before he becomes substantially harder to track down.

Yuna reaches up with a hand to rub her eyes. Of course, serving as part of Glory is no 9-5 job—she hadn’t expected volunteer missions to always take place at predictable times. But they’d gotten assigned to this particular mission on short notice, which meant that she’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, tops, before having to drag herself out of bed for this.

They’d been whisked out on Sun-Gu’s motorcycle—the St. Petrus V4, she recalls. Somehow, Sun-Gu had known exactly where to head. How he’d known, with the entire city laid out in front of him, Yuna isn’t entirely sure. But he’d explained that the target’s trajectory would probably not be a straight line to the harbor—that would be too easy to intercept, and Sun-Gu had assured the target would be aware there would be someone on his trail. He’d probably avoid main roads, then, where there would be a higher chance of getting stopped by the police. Then, out of all the remaining routes from his last tracked location, it would only be feasible to get to the dock on time through six of them.

The rest had been intuition. Sun-Gu’s familiarity with the city is impressive. He barely glances at the street signs as he drives, the night warm and stagnant, his motorcycle dialed to silent, and not for the first time, Yuna wonders how he seems to know all of this.

Speaking of Sun-Gu—

Something is different about him tonight. Yuna probably would not have noticed, had she not spent the entirety of the motorcycle ride sitting behind him. He’s incredibly subtle about it. But it’s there, nonetheless—a slight change to his demeanor. Something nearly imperceptible, something she can’t quite pin down.

Had Yuna not known better, she might have attributed it to tiredness. But in the couple months she’s known Sun-Gu, she’s never seen him tired. He sleeps, like the rest of them, of course—he is only human—but for him, the transition between sleep and wakefulness seems like more of a formality. That is to say, he wakes up immediately alert, and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him tired.

It makes her wonder, a little, if there’s a reason to it. If there was ever anything in his life which mandated being a light sleeper, that required him to be up at a moment’s notice. Either way, it’s not the reason why he’s—off isn’t the right word. Different is more suitable. Typically, he’s in better spirits. But Yuna has seen him pissed off, and this isn’t it, either.

Sun-Gu parks the motorcycle just outside of the warehouse, unclips his helmet in one swift motion, and—after Yuna gets off—takes her helmet from her and stashes them both under the motorcycle seat, which Glory has designed to be self-locking. Then, without waiting to see if they’ll follow, he makes a lap around the periphery of the warehouse.

The Dokgo brothers have tagged along too—they’re being quiet, now, which perhaps is mercy enough. Probably Sun-Gu had given them a challenge to shut up, and they’ve taken it in good faith. Now, even when they have something to comment, they keep their voices to a whisper.

“What do you think he’s off doing?” Biggie says.

Junior shrugs. “Maybe taking a walk, to relieve some stress.”

“He’s looking for signs of entry,” Yuna tells them. Then, because she can’t help it, and because she’ll be a little pissed off if they’re the ones who end up jeopardizing the mission—“Remember what he said about being quiet?”

“Ah, shit,” Biggie says. “I am quiet. Maybe you should be quiet. Have you considered that?”

She ignores the both of them and heads over to the spot where Sun-Gu stands, now, his eyebrows furrowed. A slat that’s out of place. He pushes it, and it budges.

Underground, the ground rumbles underneath them, and then settles to reveal a trap door. 

Sun-Gu beckons for them to follow him, but he doesn’t wait up for them. Yuna quickens her pace to keep up. The trap door leads them down, down. The air underground is much cooler—Yuna finds herself wishing that she’d brought a thicker jacket.

Ahead of her, Sun-Gu—

Takes in a sharp breath. But no, it’s not just a breath. As she watches him, he lifts a hand, pinches it to the bridge of his nose. His shoulders jerk forward, though only slightly; his back muscles tense. All in all, the entire display is soundless.

Yuna’s feels her eyebrows creep up. 

This is certainly… new for him. But she doesn’t have time to think on it right now.

When they get to the bottom of the steps, the stairway opens out into a deserted hallway: cement walls, cement floors. It’s dark, and cavernous. This whole place feels empty. It’s a little creepy, really. Why Sun-Gu suspects that their target is hiding out here, Yuna isn’t sure. It seems counterproductive to hide out somewhere like this when, according to their intel, the subject has limited time already to make it out to the harbor.

That is, unless Sun-Gu suspects the intel that they were given might be wrong.

Sun-Gu switches on a flashlight he’s carrying and heads deeper in. It’s not until he stops, looking down the hallway to survey his surroundings that he hesitates, only for a moment. He lifts the collar of his shirt over his face, his shoulders tensing.

“Hh’—nKTtt-!”

The sneeze is practically soundless. That makes two times in one night. Something is definitely up, then. Yuna looks around. Perhaps the underground space is dusty, or perhaps it’s not well-ventilated and it’s grown mold, and he’s allergic. Except, the air down here feels remarkably dry—not the sort of environment mold would thrive under—and the floors look suspiciously well-maintained. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be something else, either—some other universal irritant. Sun-Gu is the only one here who’s sneezing. 

Yuna isn’t sure she’s ever heard him sneeze before, out of the months that she’s known him. Could it be some existing condition, then—not a product of their environment, but something from earlier?

“Man,” Junior mouths, from somewhere. “How much longer are we going to have to head down these hallways? They all look the same.”

Yuna turns to glare at him, puts her finger to her lips. “Longer if you aren’t quiet about it.”

“I don’t like this,” Biggie mutters. “When can we get to the fighting? All the lead-up is boring. It feels like we’re in some kind of horror movie.” Yuna squeezes her eyes shut, prays that they’re far enough from Sun-Gu—and, by extension, the target—that they can’t be heard. 

Sun-Gu stops, abruptly. He holds a hand up behind him, as if to say, stay back.

Yuna doesn’t know what he’s noticed, at first. But a moment later, she hears it—the click of a latch being undone, somewhere overhead.

Above them, a small trap door opens, and then pulls shut. A cylinder drops from the ceiling, leeching violet plumes of smoke. On instinct, Yuna pulls her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth.

Tear gas, she realizes—or something chemically similar. It’s some sort of aerosolized compound, meant to render them both less capable of seeing and—partly by extension—less capable of fighting. Her eyes tear up almost immediately, so much that she can barely keep them open. Her lungs burn in protest as she takes in a breath.

They’re in a long corridor. There’s a finite amount of smoke coming from the canister—if they wait it out, it will inevitably thin out. So this was more just a distraction, then. A flashy entry. Just enough time for whoever they’re up against to—

It takes her a few seconds to spot the figure through the smoke. 

She thinks back to the files on the subject. Medium, reddish brown hair, pale blue eyes. 182 cm. Trained in combat. The stranger in the hallway has their face obscured by a gas mask, their hair hidden under a hood, but she can tell by the musculature of their exposed arms that they appear to be well-trained. In their right hand, they are carrying a long, slender weapon. From one end—attached to a metal chain—is a sphere, lined with spikes, each of them carved down to a sharp point.

It must weigh half a ton, from the way it drags the chain down, but the figure wields it easily, as if it weighs absolutely nothing.

“That’s our guy!” Junior yells, at the same time as Biggie shouts, “Stop right there!”

Both of them charge forwards. It all happens in a split second. The figure adjusts their grip on the weapon to turn the wooden handle of it outwards. Then, before either of the brothers have a chance to react, they’re swung outwards by the sheer momentum of the rod. Biggie hits the ceiling with enough force that the concrete above them rumbles, the impact spiderwebbing the ceiling above them. Slabs of concrete rain down from the point of contact. The figure drives Junior straight into one of the walls at an awkward angle which renders him almost immediately unconscious.

Yuna can feel her own heart pounding in her ears. She slinks back into the darkness, pressing herself to the ground so that hopefully, the stranger will forget that she is there—or that she is even a threat to begin with. Seeing what they’re capable of, she isn’t sure she could do much in this situation to begin with.

How long has it been since the last time the path split off into multiple routes? When Yuna turns to look, the hallway before them and after them seems to stretch on and on. An endless concrete tunnel, with the white, sterile lighting of a laboratory space. Nothing to shield themselves with, and nowhere to hide. It’s a strange location to pick a fight in. What exactly was this place built for? 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the figure says to Sun-Gu, grinning. Half of their teeth have been replaced with gold tooth crowns. When they grin, the gold catches the light, winking. “Thirty seconds, huh? Your teammates couldn’t even hold their own for that long? It’s a damn shame. I didn’t even get to use the weapon as it’s intended to be used.” They tilt their head, staring down at Sun-Gu with a look of contempt. “I guess you could thank me for being merciful. But if I’m honest…”

Their smile darkens into something sharper, something hungry. “I just didn’t want to stain a flail of this quality with anyone’s blood but yours.”

Was this entire mission a setup, to get Sun-Gu into one place? Is the subject really in possession of any classified documents at all?

Sun-Gu twists away—not to evade, or not in preparation to attack. His shoulders hunch forward, his expression twisting. He coughs, roughly, down towards the ground. It’s the kind of cough that suggests that he’s been coughing like this for some time now—harsh and throat-scraping. 

That’s when it registers for Yuna.

He’s ill. It seems painfully obvious, in hindsight, now that she’s realized it. 

During the motorcycle ride here, he’d been careful not to touch her, Yuna realizes. Sun-Gu is always careful with his own space—he has an awareness of it, even outside of combat, that she thinks would be unusual for most. Even with small things—the ways he gestures, the way he holds himself—she gets the feeling that none of it is accidental. 

When she looks at him now, she notices—a slight, near-imperceptible flush to his features. He’s breathing a little more heavily than normal. Instincts he can hide. Instincts he can cover for. But there are some things which no amount of physical awareness can hide.

He has a fever, then. That’s probably why he hadn’t wanted her to touch him. He’d known that if she’d made contact with his skin, she would’ve felt it, and she thinks he probably hadn’t wanted to raise any concern.

Sun-Gu is here, on a mission, fighting a well-trained stranger on his own, equipped with nothing but a pocket knife, with no armor and no with no reinforcements. On any normal occasion, Yuna might trust him to be able to hold his own—she’s seen what he’s done, alone against a crowd of hundreds—but this time, it’s different, because Sun-Gu is unwell.

The figure looks surprised, at this. “Ah,” they say. Yuna can’t help but think they look like a predator, honing in on their prey, only to find that said prey is already bloodied and limping. Like someone surprised—but pleased—to find their job already done for them. “Don’t tell me you’re already not in tip-top shape? That’s a shame.”

Sun-Gu coughs, again, his chest shaking. Yuna feels a pang of worry in her chest. He really does look unwell—and he hasn’t said as much of a word to deny it, which is telling. She looks around for anything to help him with— If she were to call for reinforcements, she thinks it would take too long for them to find them all here, underground, in the elaborate array of tunnels.

The weapon they’re holding is heavy, which affects its maneuverability, and to some degree, its speed. But Sun-Gu’s knife is much more of a close-range weapon, which means that while Sun-Gu will have to get up close to them to even make a mark, the stranger would be theoretically able to fatally wound him while standing a meter away.

The figure presses forward. With the swing of one hand, the metal ball and the chain arc outwards neatly, directly towards Sun-Gu. For such a heavy weapon, Yuna is surprised to find that this person wields it with impressive speed. It’s nearly too fast for her eyes to track. Sun-Gu evades, easily, but the figure swings again, and again, and again. At this speed, it almost looks as though they’re slicing the air into shreds.

If Sun-Gu were to be hit, his body would stop all of the momentum at once, and the spikes would easily puncture skin, drive themselves into tissue and skin and bone. Worse, Yuna realizes, if the weapon makes it to Sun-Gu’s body—even if it’s lodged in a relatively nonfatal area—the figure will easily be able to drive it directly into a vital organ. That means that if Sun-Gu fails to dodge cleanly on just one occasion, this fight will be over.

That’s another thing, too. Sun-Gu’s radius of attack is limited by the length of his own arm. But the figure can stand in one place and swing the weapon anywhere that the length of their arm, the long rod, the chain, all put together, can reach.

“If I had a little more patience, I might even have waited for you to get back to full health, so that this could be a more memorable fight,” the figure says.

Sun-Gu’s breath hitches. His opponent is not kind enough to pretend not to notice. They drive forward, intending to use the moment of temporary weakness to their benefit, just as Sun-Gu jerks forward with a forceful, “hHh’EEZschHH-uH!”

Sun-Gu evades, but only barely. How he is able to predict the trajectory of the metal ball, even distracted, even with his eyes closed, Yuna isn’t sure. But it’s clear that he isn’t done, and by the time his eyes are already falling shut for another. He’s afforded a sharp, desperate breath, before his shoulders jerk forward again. “hH’nGKt-! Hh… hh-IIIH’DZSshH!”

He coughs, after, as if the sneezes have somehow irritated his throat further.  

The stranger grins. “...But I suppose having your head as a prize would be consolation enough.”

They sweep the chain in a wide arc, directly for Sun-Gu’s neck. Sun-Gu crouches for a moment, then takes a running leap up into the air, righting his trajectory with one foot to the wall to land behind them. He’s put his knife away, Yuna realizes. But there is nothing here—no props, no furniture—for him to repurpose into a weapon.

“Sorry,” Sun-Gu says. The expression on his face is not one of remorse. It’s one of clear, bitter irritation. He’s annoyed, she realizes. “You’re right. I’m not feeling my best today.”

It’s an admission, loud and clear, but the way he says it, it doesn’t sound like an admission of weakness. Up until now, he has been observing, Yuna realizes, as he’s done before—passively taking in the stranger’s fighting style, their handling of their weapon, their habits, their tells. 

“So,” Sun-Gu says, flatly. When the stranger swings again, Sun-Gu snags hold of the chain while it’s in mid-air, and—as if it’s weightless—yanks the stranger towards him. He takes hold of the chain with his other hand, testing its weight. The smile on his face is utterly cold. “Let’s get this over with quickly.”

—

Afterwards, when they leave the warehouse, the sun is starting to rise. Yuna finds a text from Glory Club on her phone from an hour ago, presumably from the chairman. It’s curt: Do not proceed. We have reason to doubt the motives of the group which supplied the intel. Ironically, there was not enough reception underground for their warning to reach them in time, but she thinks that Sun-Gu must’ve realized much earlier. 

Biggie and Junior are a little worse for the wear, but other than that, neither of them is concerningly injured. Biggie claims that he doesn’t have a concussion, but he doesn’t put up too much of a fight when Yuna insists that when they get back, their first stop will be to the medical ward to get fixed up. 

Speaking of Sun-Gu: he is quiet, which is not unusual. Sun-Gu has never been the most talkative person, but Yuna suspects that today, there’s more to it. 

“I can take us back,” Yuna says, trying not to make it sound pointed. It’s usually Sun-Gu who steers, but Yuna has enough experience with the St. Petrus V4 to handle a forty minute trip on paved roads, and enough experience too to know how to speed just enough to stay in control of it.

“It’s fine,” Sun-Gu says, flashing her a distracted smile. “It will be faster if I drive, because I won’t have to navigate.” He retrieves his own helmet from the seat compartment. Yuna spends a moment to watch him. He isn’t injured, nor does he look any less alert—he’d gotten out of the battle without so much as a scratch to show for.

But there are little hints, here and there, to exhaustion. The way he clears his throat before speaking, so quietly she can’t tell except for the slight bob of his throat, the slight furrow of his eyebrows. The way he pauses to clip his helmet, shielding his face with one hand from the gleam of the rising sun, as if his head is already hurting. The way he looks relieved to be sitting down, the way his hand lingers, a little shaky, on the motorcycle handles before he steadies it, looking faintly annoyed. 

Of course, for someone like Sun-Gu, where—on the battlefield—any sort of slight miscalculation could be the difference between life and death, where trusting his body to function exactly as he’s used to is crucial for his success, Yuna isn’t surprised that any sort of bodily inefficiency would be an annoyance, even more so for Sun-Gu than for most.

At the same time, as she stares at him, she has to wonder—just how long has he been unwell? Had she not been awake during the battle—had she been unconscious, then, like the other two—would she even have noticed? How many times in his life has he been ill and just proceeded? Yuna doesn’t know what his relationship to Peter is—whether he’s a long lost cousin, or someone who trained under him before, or something else. But she knows, from the way he fights, that he must’ve had years of combat experience even before he joined Glory. No one is born with that amount of expertise, that level of near-inhuman intuition.

In the past, when Sun-Gu found himself in life-or-death situations, had he proceeded like he is now—as though everything were normal? As though any affliction he was suffering through privately was not even worth the attention of his own team? It makes sense, she thinks—that he wouldn’t broadcast any weakness openly, especially for any potential adversaries to listen in on. But if he’d been so careful to hide it from all of them, how would he take it if she acknowledged it out loud?

“Is something wrong?” Sun-Gu asks, watching her now. 

“No, nothing at all!” Yuna says, quickly. Think, she tells herself. She returns his smile, a little sheepishly. “I was just thinking… I’m a little hungry. Do you think we could stop at a convenience store on the way back?”

Sun-Gu blinks, a little surprised. But then he nods. “Of course,” he says. 

She fiddles with her own helmet until it’s securely on. Then she gets onto the motorcycle, behind him, and waits for him to take off.

—

True to his word, Sun-Gu stops at a 24/7 convenience store on the way back. But when Yuna asks him if he wants anything to eat, he waves her off with another smile. “Not enough time has passed after that fight,” he says. “I’m still too worked up to eat something.”

Bullshit, she thinks, but she steps inside the store nonetheless. Inside, it’s heavily air-conditioned, pleasantly cool. She picks out a sandwich from the fridge for herself, and one for Sun-Gu, while Biggie and Dokgo—who have followed them here on their scooters—load up on containers of cup ramen and ready-made hot fried chicken. Yuna snags a bottle of water from the fridge. Then she’s sure no one is looking, she takes a blister pack of aspirin off the shelves, along with a travel pack of tissues, and pays for it through the self-checkout station.

Biggie and Junior are still inside by the time she’s done shopping, so she heads outside, the plastic bag in hand.

She finds him still seated on the motorcycle, his helmet still on. He’s sitting ramrod-straight, his shoulders stiff, his head ducked slightly to avoid the sun. To anyone else, he might look alert—perhaps even nervous—but Yuna knows better. It looks as if he is doing everything in his power not to fall asleep.

His breath hitches. He gasps, his body jerking forward with a loud, “hHHD’TSHhh-Uh!”, which seems ridiculously unrelieving for how loud it is, and sighs, tenderly massaging the bridge of his temples. So the headache from earlier hasn’t gotten any better, then. 

She watches him for a moment longer—watches him duck forward into his arm with another ticklish sneeze, and emerge with a liquid sniffle—and wonders when this had all started to feel like second nature.

Caring about him, that is.

When he hears her coming, he looks up to her. “Done with breakfast already?” 

“Not yet,” she says. “But I got you a sandwich.

“Ah, thanks,” he says. “Though, didn’t I say—”

“You’re not hungry right now, I recall,” Yuna says. “You can save it for later. But I have something else for you too.” 

She hands him the aspirin and the bottle of water. Sun-Gu stares down at them for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I am not injured,” he says, at last.

“I know,” Yuna says, casually. “The aspirin is for your headache. That’s been bothering you all morning, right? It might help with your fever, too, but I think the best antidote for that would be some proper bedrest.”

For a moment, Sun-Gu just stares at her, his eyes a little wide. Then he laughs. “You really don’t let anything past you, do you, Yuna?”

“That’s right,” she says, crossing her arms. “So you were trying to hide it.”

“Not exactly,” Sun-Gu says. “I just didn’t deem it worth mentioning.”

“Three to five days of bedrest, and lots of warm fluids!” Yuna says, jabbing a finger into his chest, accusingly. “That’s what people recommend for illnesses like this. Not a killer mission first thing in the morning!”

“You are very prudent,” Sun-Gu says, looking mildly amused.

“You don’t think it might’ve helped to mention your illness to someone you trust? The chairman, or even me?”

“I fail to see how that would’ve made any difference. It’s not as though the mission could have waited.”

“Fine, then.” Yuna says. “You might not agree to take it easy. But I’ll keep noticing as long as you keep being irresponsible.” She means it as a threat—that in the future, if he ever dares to be so reckless, she’ll be the first to notice. And if Yuna thinks he should be resting, instead of on a mission, she’s not going to keep her mouth shut about it. 

But when she looks over at Sun-Gu, he is smiling. 

#sneeze kink #snz kink #sneeze fic #sneezefic #snzfic #this was really fun to write 😭😭 though writing the action was certainly an experience #i love yu//na so much... half the fun was writing everything from her perspective and thinking abt what she might notice and how #this fic is influenced a lot by y//una and pet//er's dynamic in ep14; specifically his acknowledgment of her perceptiveness and #the covert act of kindness he shows her at the end #i am kind of scared this fic might only appeal to me because people aren't familiar w the fandom 😭 i was actually not intending to #write anything initially for that very reason. but then my d took the wheel #but this was a good break from my more serious writing (yvverse) and a fun character study in general; life has been really rough this week #and so it was nice to have an outlet #my fic

[hephaestuscrew]

Clara probably had to duck back into the other tunnel before she knew whether Fleet was going to drop to the floor in time (or whether he would be okay if he did). She had to stand there in the dark listening to the crash and clatter and screech of the train making contact with metal, not able to see what was happening, not knowing whether Fleet was amongst that collision, not sure whether Fleet was mechanical enough that some of those sounds of metal being torn apart could be him.

In those awful twenty seconds or so, did she imagine going back to the office above Mrs. Pomligans alone? Did she think about how that sign with both their names engraved on it would still be there? Did she think about the first time he'd died, after she'd only known him a few days, and how much worse this time would feel? Had she been able to hear him when he shouted that he was sorry?

#Victoriocity #I am just very emotional about that whole scene okay #I was gonna write a fic where they talk about this #but actually I don't know if I think they would talk about this directly #They are too repressed #The 20 seconds or so between Fleet's shout of “wait!” and Clara running over to him lying on the floor #aren't a long time in the grand scheme of things #but in that situation how long those seconds must have seemed... #Clara Entwhistle #Archibald Fleet #Inspector Fleet #Victoriocity spoilers #victoriocity season 3 #Clara & Fleet #the empty man posteth

[tippenfunkaport]

Seasons Change

“Fine.” Glimmer stepped up onto the toes of his boots so she could give him a kiss. “I will give this ‘seasons’ thing a try. But don’t come crying to me about how chilly you are when the weather gets colder and you still refuse to wear a real shirt.” Bow chuckled against her lips as he kissed her back. “Deal. So long as you promise you’ll snuggle me to keep me warm.”

Read on AO3 (Fluff, 608 words)

For @glimbowweek Day 4: Seasonal Vibes

#glimbow #glimmer #bow #spop #shera #she ra #fanart #fanfic #tippen attempts art #tippen's fics #fluff #i actually got one of my fics posted in time aren't you proud?

[wwheeljack]

I genuinely remain confounded by the two sides to the Tech debate in this fandom. I've seen so many people on the Tech Lives side proclaim that they will be attacked, or insulted or made fun of for their ideas, all while they argue that those who see Tech as dead do so only because they want him dead since he's "autistic".

I've seen people on the Tech is Dead side go out of their way to comment unnecessarily on people who want him back with their beliefs on his death. This is unnecessary, just as it is unnecessary for those who believe or want Tech alive to make assumptions about those who believe the opposite.

That multiple people believe that is why someone may believe he's dead is confounding. The idea that Tech may be dead is not predicated on a hatred for autistic people, or autistic like characters. It isn't malicious for people to either want him alive, or to have accepted his death.

Frankly, it is tiring how the main focus of Tech's entire being since season two is that he died, and he's potentially autistic (The Crossing included, he never has been outright confirmed as such). He is so much more than that, and deserves to have people focus on him aside from just his death.

Curate your fandom experience by muting words or tags that may upset you.

#As a fan of Tech (which should be clear if anyone's read my fics) I'm so tired of this being the sole topic for Tech #It wasn't malicious intent to have him die just because he could be autistic #People aren't out here yearning for his death just because he's potentially autistic #Be polite to people on either side #Do not interact with one side if it upsets you into believing ideas about that side without actual communication with that side #Tech stans have become very tiring #I miss him of course but the way his fans have reacted and treated people within the fandom since season two has made it tiring to engage #Then that does not even include all the drama from both sides of the ship he's potentially part of #It's all turned very exhausting even when I've muted all terms related to this entire discussion #If the fans could think of more than just his death so often that would be nice