#i mean i'm someone who doesn't ever do hard abandon on fics

[qierxing]

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly. 

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?" 

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back. 

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far." 

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?" 

Another question out of left field. 

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke. 

"Yeah…" they murmur back. 

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

-

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual. 

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that. 

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while. 

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

-

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things! 

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone. 

Ace tried two more times to meet you. 

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter. 

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough. 

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now. 

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly. 

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First]. 

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu. 

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?” 

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face. 

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for? 

-

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon. 

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations. 

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in. 

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out. 

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation. 

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance. 

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes. 

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–" 

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander. 

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts. 

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in. 

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.” 

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.  

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally." 

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement. 

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash. 

"Cater." 

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen. 

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair. 

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

-

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.” 

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt. 

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough. 

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?  

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him. 

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards. 

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?" 

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him. 

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors. 

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved. 

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day. 

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard. 

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges. 

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down. 

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants. 

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him. 

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute. 

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate. 

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes. 

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other. 

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air. 

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.” 

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear. 

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.  

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back. 

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.” 

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary. 

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago. 

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you. 

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says. 

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.” 

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed. 

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak. 

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam. 

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone. 

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking. 

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

[desertfangs]

I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE ARMAND/DANIEL BREAK UP SCENE IN TVA PLS

Not gonna lie, I would’ve loved for a more polished version of this to have made it into the book, the potential is there IMO as well as all the elements that make Devil’s Minion such an explosive, intense, compelling ship. The fighting, the yearning, the weird sexual analogies (this one didn’t quite land but it kinda always goes back to sex with them, doesn’t it?), the kissing in between hurtful statements. Daniel using INSECT parts for his models, Pandora trying to make him pay attention to Armand, Armand being sad and kissing Daniel while trying to fix things, but Daniel being too far gone at the time to even register the impact of his words. I NEED MORE.

Anon, I have so many thoughts, my brain is spinning.

I'm not sure I'd want this in the book or not, it's so hard to say now. I was absolutely baffled by Daniel's lack of inclusion in TVA when it came out, and and then suddenly he's there in B&G mad and being cared for by Marius, and I had to do a lot of mental gymnastics to figure out how I thought he got from A to B. I eventually decided him thinking Armand was dead drove him mad, which made the most sense to me. That is clearly is not what Anne had pictured, but at this point I'm honestly pretty happy with that conclusion instead.

I'm trying to imagine how it would have felt if this was included in TVA. What else does that change? Is Armand still bitter and angry? Is he more regretful? Does this mean we get any of his POV of the Devil's Minion years, including their break up? (Because that is the piece I feel is most missing from that book and what I deeply wanted from it in addition to filling in Armand's background.)

The idea that Armand abandoned the island to mortal hands--a reference to him selling it, I guess--would absolutely break Daniel apart. It does feel very much like something he would be devastated by but I don't feel we're given enough on this one page to really understand what happened. Armand left the others? That doesn't gel with anything I've ever thought. Armand always struck me as the one who was holding things together and was then heartbroken when everyone else left. So I'd need a more context into Anne's idea of how things played out there.

That said, there are pieces I like!

I love the idea of Pandora and Marius looking after Daniel together and Pandora trying to get his attention.

"I have no maker!" I mean, if Daniel and Armand had a vicious fight and Armand all about renounced him and left him wandering to the point where the loneliness and devastation of it drove him mad, then this is absolutely something I can see him saying. The way he talks about how Armand doesn't make others so clearly he has no maker is so full of bitterness and resentment I would love to see a fic unpacking that (Someone should write it! Maybe several someones!)

Daniel building his worlds with found objects and weird shit is amazing. Like it's so deeply unhinged that I can't help but applaud the creativity. I honestly wish I'd known about this months ago because I can totally see this happening as Daniel sinks into madness and I would have loved to have added a scene to my fic about that where Daniel is building a little town on the floor of some seedy motel with bugs and matchbooks and rubber bands or something. It's delightfully freaking weird and I dig it.

I love Armand asking after Daniel, which is another thing I think was sorely missing from TVA. The fact that he doesn't seem to care where he is just explained by his assumption Daniel hates him, but it still feels exceptionally weird to me that Armand wouldn't even ask, particularly after he almost died, and he doesn't know if Daniel may have tried to follow suit? This whole big thing just happened and Lestat is catatonic on the floor, I'd be accounting for my loved ones, no matter how we left things.

Armand losing all his anger and bitterness (does he have that in this version? He must have some, right?) when he sees Daniel in a bad state, clearly struggling, and offering him comfort is so precious. But also can we talk about "I didn't mean to abandon you..." ????? Armand ABANDONED Daniel in this version??? I just... that's so wild, I have so many questions. And then he kisses him??? That is precious. Look, I have wanted an Armand and Daniel interaction during his madness since we learned Daniel was in Marius' basement playing with model trains in Blood and Gold. And I think I would have been okay with this if we got some satisfying resolution between them afterward - we can have this hurt, but we need some comfort to end it on, you know? And I don't think that would have happened. I think Armand would have left defeated and we'd have been stuck with that in our heads for decades until PL came out and we get one freaking line about them hunting together, so.

I think I am glad this version did not make it into TVA, but I would also love to read a dozen fics that try to make sense of all this because there are some delicious tidbits I think talented fic writers could explore and really work into something great.

#the vampire armand #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #tulane #anne's notes #anonymous #answers in the desert #vc headcanons #vc meta #the vampire chronicles #vc

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hey all!!

I've been trying to write this post for forever but uhhh yes I suppose it's a lot easier to do a quick primer first but uhh

I'm so so sorry I don't answer asks! And I want to change that soon.

[a LONG post about autism, blog updates, and PDA]

TL;DR: I have Pathological Demand Avoidance, but I'm growing from it and hope to become more social on here in the near future!

If you've seen me asks or messages, I promise I don't hate you!! I love you!! I'm so serious

Soon I plan on making a longer post explaining what I've been preoccupied with, and also changes I want to make to this blog in the near future (all small and good!)

But to put it shortly -

I've been suffering from Pathological Demand Avoidance SO HARD and it's been something I've struggled with for some time.

If you don't know Pathological Demand Avoidance - or more accurately named Pervasive Drive for Autonomy - is a profile of autism:

In short though - because asked to do something, ANYTHING, even indirectly makes my brain stall. I know it sounds ridiculous.

It's not even in a cute anarchist 'I don't have to listen to you!!' type of way. Fam it's. EVERYTHING.

It's not so much the activity that's triggering it. I LOVE talking to people so much, but... like, speaking in conversation is like a demand. Someone calling my name is a demand, doing homework, showing up to places on time, brushing my teeth everyday etc.

It's often why young children with autism may not respond to you talking to them, say 'I can't do x, my legs don't work!!', hide when expected to do things, literally REFUSE to go to school (big me thing), etc.

It's linked to the diagnosis (and misdiagnosis) of 'Oppositional Defiance Disorder'.

That's why I may seem very extroverted (which I am!! ILY!!!) but I don't ever appear to talk to anybody or react to them.

For example - It's more likely for me to add to a tag game if I'm not tagged because when I am, I feel really happy to be thought of but then 'Oh God I have to do a thing. Not right now but soon. The thing I have to do. That eventually must be done. I have committed and I must Do Something. Me doing the thing is approaching. The inevitable thing. That must be done. The inescapable thing'.

ON & ON regardless of what it is. I'm not opposed to doing whatever it is, the demand could be completely self-imposed. I'm just opposed to doing something.

Anything preplanned, asked, or expected of me.

That's why I often abandon fics, or say I'll write an essay and then don't do it. I still remember, but finishing the essay becomes a self imposed demand and then.. I can't do it lol

All in all - this can kinda make notifications really hard for me.

@spidey-bie can tell you, even in discord I'm a little lurking gremlin who is only summoned at inopportune moments and when someone has pissed me off

Usually, my response is ALWAYS flight. I may like an ask or message and enjoy it, even have a response in mind - but instead of answer my immediate reaction to is abort mission and FULLY close the app and find the nearest corner, or try my best to appear offline.

IT'S WEIRD.

I have no idea if others will understand what I'm trying to convey because I know the concept may sound bizarre, and I get that. It really was a concept I only really learned about recently.

But that's why I mean seem very talkative and hyperverbal and bubbly but also like never appear to be social with anyone ever.

PDA is like -

Me: oh wow this person is so sweet. I consider them a friend, I should message them back.

My brain: Yeah.

Me:... message them back.

My brain: fuck you. anyway write an essay literally no one demanded

Me: Why? Can I at least write that fic that I left hanging for eight months

My brain: No someone complimented you on that once and now there's Demand. Write something 100% unrelated.

Me: *starts writing an essay no one asked for and doesn't even finish it because finishing it has become a demand even though I'm the only one who even knows the essay exists in the first place*

Like girl be so fr. Even saying this I feel like it sounds like a lie 😭 I got Hobie brain. Some old 'I'll do it but not because you told me to' headass.

I'm Miguel and my brain wanna 'Nah imma do my own thing' on some Miles shit.

Guess how many drafts I have. Guess. WRONG. TWO HUNDRED.

Nah be forreal is that normal? Y'all got that or nah? Is that common I'm being deadass 😭😭

And girl I'm not even gonna show the number in my inbox cause I'd rather be tarred and feathered than indure that humiliation imma be honest 😐 rather be burned at the stake

But I know that me being so active and like... Not Responding can be very hurtful and I'm so sorry!!

Though I know that didn't make up for it. I know it can make me come off as fake or mean but that's not my intention at all, I promise.

Honestly I just have a brain where everyday feels like opposite day.

But I'm a grown ass person and uh!! I want to change that response.

So please don't stop replying or tagging me in things! I genuinely do love it 💖

This blog is really one of my favorite places in planet Earth and I love this community SO SO MUCH.

Going forward I want to invest more time here and just meta writing in specific.

I'm thinking (girl I'm phrasing this SO CAREFULLY so my brain doesn't think it's a demand like shh I hope the autism doesn't hear me) -

I'd like to maybe designate a day for asks to be answered/queued (as many as I can pump out) because I really love talking with y'all and y'all have SUCH good ideas

I'm hoping to do more Spidersona stuff but I'MA HAVE TO PACE MYSELF OKAY that's not a Demand autism we're just having nice hopeful thoughts NOT A DEMAND

So uhh I don't know how I'll encorporate more Spidersona stuff but yeah... It'll happen.

Other stuff too. Other stuff.

[Notice how I have to be like 'I'm hoping, I'm thinking, I might, I'd like to,'. I'm ALLERGIC to 'I will' 🤢🤢🤢]

I plan on making another life update post just to clear up some things maybe talk more specifics. I'm thinking Tuesdays or Thursdays -

I'll most likely close my ask just to pump out the asks that are still relevant time wise.

I'd also like to take more about PDA in short posts of if anyone is interested. Honestly, I think there are some advantages to PDA.

YES I HEADCANON HOBIE AS HAVING IT.

I DON'T FOLLOW ORDERS NEITHER DOES HE.

Save me Hobie.. Hobie save me (I be using him to internally justify my PDA.. 'like Hobie wouldn't want me to answer this linkdin email' 😭😭)

BUT UHHHH If you read this far and you're still here I LOVE YOU YOU MEAN SO MUCH TO ME HOBIE BE UPON YE

I truly appreciate you, thank you for hearing me out!

Hobie says remember to be a public nuisance and never cooperate with anything and leave the function early and steal

I'm gonna go do something that doesn't matter and that no one asked for that I probably won't finish for no reason :) (/pos)

Bye.

#thank you all for understanding and I'm sorry!! #roman rambles #autism #autism thinks #actually autistic #autism pda #personal stuff

[asterekmess]

A Bit of a Conundrum

I've been waffling about this for a long time, and as I've already vented about it to my discord, I wanted to open it up to a possibly larger audience of my readers. And also complain about it more. XD I write. A lot. I have. A LOT of writing. We're talking like more than 2 dozen wips sitting in my google docs, some with 14k, some with 114k words in them. Some with a specific ending in mind, some with no plot beyond what's already written. Fuck dude, some aren't even Sterek/TW! I was fortunate enough to have someone go on my ko-fi and do a monthly donation to me for a few months. They stopped, which I'll never be mad at, but having them there at all, having someone say "I'd like to support your writing just for the sake of supporting it" meant a huge amount to me, and it made me think about all of my wips.

I don't post often, or regularly, or..well at all, for months and months at a time. This is because I almost only ever post fics when they're done. it's a personal rule of mine, and not one I used to follow when i first started writing fic. It's one I came up with shortly after finishing "Wanted" bc I felt terrible and pressured when I had to take breaks during that fic and when I couldn't keep up with a regular schedule for people. And for a long time it was a good rule for me. It helped me not to feel pressured or overwhelmed by the worry of abandoning a project on ao3 and getting bombarded with comments asking where the next chapter is. But as I've continued writing over the years, my wips have gotten more numerous, while my posted work continues to trickle in. I'm a chronic long-fic writer (though my currently posted fics don't reflect that), which means it takes way more time for me to finish a fic than it does for me to get distracted coming up with a NEW idea for a fic. It's hard to finish work. But that doesn't mean I don't love my wips. They're incredible. Some of them contain some of the best stuff I feel I've ever written. Poignant words and phrases and meaningful moments. And looking around at them, I realized that anyone who goes to support me on my ko-fi, or considers following me on Ao3, or even just subscribes to a series, isn't really getting to see what I"m actually doing. They see a fic posted every 9 months, or every year. There's no real indication that anything they do is helping me regularly, that they're even supporting a Current Active writer. In light of that, I've been considering starting to post wips of mine. The problems with that are numerous and a bit overwhelming, hence wanting to hear others' opinions and vent about it ad nauseum. I've got lots of wips, and if I were to start posting them, I wouldn't want to toss the whole wip out at once. But posting a chapter at a time every few days or even once a week, while it would mean a lot of content coming out, it would be a lot of content that I haven't finished. Cliffhanger chapters, and unfinished stories that I can't promise would ever be finished. And I know I don't owe my readers anything, but it's still unsatisfying to post something without an ending. Then there's the absolute overload of possibly too Much content for people. Getting an e-mail every other day about a new chapter for a fic you've no interest in reading isn't fun. And on top of all that, is the editing. Often when I'm struggling with a fic, I find that i need to go back and change the beginning. In honesty, part of why I wait to post until I'm finished with fics is bc semi-regularly I'll get to the end of a fic, go back to the beginning and edit it all over again to make it more cohesive. To me there is no such thing as a 'finished' chapter. only a finished fic. If I posted as I wrote, then I'd either not be able to go back and edit chapters, or if I DID go back and edit my chapters, they would then need updated, and people who'd read the first 4 chapters of something would end up needing to reread the fic to get the full sense of what I'm doing. But at the same time, posting my wips would mean finally getting to share some stuff that's been gathering dust for years in some cases, finally getting to see people's reactions to them. Finally getting to know that even if I don't end up finishing it, at least people can enjoy what's already been written. And of course, finally getting to show people that when they support me through donations or comments or what-have-you, they're supporting an Active writer, supporting work being made every day, even if it's not FINISHED every day. All of these things are stuff I'm trying to take into consideration, and it's been a hell of a struggle. Plus, as I'm unfortunately trying to manage doing a part-time job rn, just getting up the energy for this stuff is a big BIG task.

If you've got any thoughts or strategic ideas, I'd love to hear them. If not, s'all good, I mostly just wanted to vent. XD

#personal #rant #writing talk #fic talk #personal writing promotion

[wildpeachfarm]

Ugh yes, the fanfic in this community goes so hard

I was working on this absolutely massive fic (word count wise it'll be pretty moderate, >35K words but the contents are huge. It's a sex worker au and it it means so much to me) and then all this happened and I thought I'd have to abandon it completely

But things have calmed down major so I'm hopeful

I'm just also very burnt out rn lol

I love writing dteam so much and I was worrying so much about what I would do when I unhit burnout but had no characters to write. But as it stands currently, that doesn't seem like it'll be too much of an issue

OH MY GOD i was following someone on twitter who was working on a big sex worker au fic and if that's you then 1) i adore your writing and 2) if you ever were to release it I would be on the frontlines to support

#ask #anon

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

What are your opinions about character ai? (Totally not asking bc im turning to it to feed my sherliam and alcroft hunger bc im picky and cant find actual fics i like right now and Im not motivated or confident enough to actually write anything myself)

I say this emphatically but with total kindness towards you as a person: AIs don't write, don't draw, don't create. They devour and regurgitate plagiarized art, and in my opinion the best thing we can do is collectively completely ignore them until they become so unprofitable they cease to exist, or are repurposed to do other things that free us humans up to actually create more art. The proliferation of them is likely part of why you have a hard time finding fic you enjoy: more and more folks are scared to share their art when it might be stolen and fed into AI, and more and more are locking their AO3 profiles for the same reason. So uh...my opinion is "AI (at least in its current iteration) = bad."

Lecture aside, let me encourage you to dabble in writing yourself, even if you don't feel confident! In the decade or more since I last published fic before getting into Yuumori, I've started and abandoned probably well over a hundred WIPs for different fandoms. And even though all those snippets just sit on my computer for my eyes only, they were all fun to write! You don't have to share something to enjoy creating it. Have a line you want to hear one character say to another? Write a single scene, just for yourself, incorporating that line! It doesn't have to be complete, and no one else ever has to see it. It's healthy: you're interacting with something you love, flexing creative muscles, engaging your brain and practicing grammar and cadence and so on and so on and so on. Writing is good for you!

Also, if you don't already, get into your fandoms. Engage. Comment on fic you DO like. Become a fic author's recognized regular. (And don't ever ever ever feed their work into AI!!!) Do all that, and you might find someone whose authorial voice you really like who is willing to take prompts and feed your ship hunger for you, in a way that has heart and soul and humanity embodied in it.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't too harsh...I do be going off about things I'm passionate about. I know AI is kinda ubiquitous now and it's easy to think it's just something fun to play with and not doing any harm, but it's good to talk to authors and artists about this stuff and hear where they're coming from. I'm not super defensive of my work myself (not that I WANT my writing put into AI, please don't!), but I am easily riled up for the sake of my many friends who are very stressed about the whole topic and what it means for their art!

#asks #trials of fic writing #ai rant

[jesuisici33]

Fic Writer Interview

tagged by @vanillahigh00 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

79,614

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

cause i believe that we were supposed to find this (Lonestar, T) 213 kudos

It's Photoshop (Lonestar, T) 144 kudos

A Lesson In Flirting (Schitt's Creek, T) 132 kudos

Public Relations (Schitt's Creek, E) 128 kudos

yes i know that he's my ex but can't two people reconnect? (Lonestar, E) 98 kudos

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES! i'm always so awed and feel so loved when people comment on my fics! (although sometimes it might take a while for me to comment back)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

yes i know that he's my ex ...it's break up sex so...

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Umm... a good majority of them tbh?

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not really. Although I do have a 911/Lonestar crossover wip buried in my drafts set right after the actual crossover.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, and I hope that trend continues!

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

*looks at all my E rated fics* what's that?

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, no one has brought it to my attention.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if someone wants to I would be honored!

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

No.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Atm it's Buck/Eddie from 911. Although I do love TK/Carlos. I still love David/Patrick, but I think I'll have to rewatch the show for them to grip my attention again.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I don't want to say never finish, just hibernate.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I have really good ideas, and I'm really good at writing dialogue.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Procrastination. (One of my goals this year is to at least write 100 words a day. Just to get in the habit of writing more, and with a low word count so on days I don't feel like doing it, I feel less pressure). Also inner voice and scene description. Although I feel like I'm getting better at that lately.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

A bit nervous. I mean, I am learning spanish on duolingo, but I would feel a lot better if I had a native speaker to varify that my dialogue is correct and makes sense. However, I'm not opposed to doing it if it makes sense to the fic itself.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

iCarly, back when I was 11.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Joe/Nicky from The Old Guard and Percabeth. Although I don't have any fic ideas for them.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Top two contenders for favorite fic are yes i know that he's my ex, Public Relations, and Let's Play a Game (Spies Are Forever, E)

yes i know he's my ex - it's my first angsty fic, and i worked really hard on getting the tone right for this fic. it's set during Tarlos' break up, yet they're having sex in this fic and it doesn't end with them getting back together. so i wanted to focus on their mixed emotions of being together yet knowing it's just a one time thing. and thankfully everyone who commented said i pulled it off!

Public Relations - my first multichap fic. throughout my time writing, i've always scrapped projects and went on to something new or just abandoning it. so this proved that i could finishing something and stick with it. i was really proud that i could accomplish that, and write something that ended up being almost 40k words! not a huge word count for some fic authors, but a huge accomplishment for me :D

Let's Play a Game - my first fic into fandoms! (on this account, lol) When I watched Spies Are Forever, I needed more, and sadly the fandom is pretty small, so I decided to write a fic for it! This was originally going to be a multichap fic, however I kept getting icked out that Agent Curt Mega's name was the same name as the actor who played him, so this just ended up being a pwp. However, this did get me back into writing so it still lives in a special place in my heart.

anyone else want to do an interview? @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes @alrightbuckaroo @liminalmemories21 @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @wandering-night19 @rosedavid @apothecarose @mammameesh @steadfastsaturnsrings @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend @tyfinn @thebumblecee @cultofsappho @daffi-990

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Surprise alt PoV on Saturday's fic...? Magic exhaustion is totally exhaustion and I wrote basic type back on the fainting day so like. Enjoy some weird shit instead.

XCOM AU, again, with people having extremely bad times. Referenced torture, everything's a bit on the magic end of things for me to be sure how to warn it. Oh right! Implied Major Character Death (they learn this isn't actually the case before the end of the story, but do believe it for long enough to have genuine grief hours about it). Actual major character injury. Psychic torture. Poorly explained magic and soulmate system.

Mostly Forever, Cellbit, and Pac, with background Fit/Pac and not-on-screen-but-vital-to-story Pac & Mike

The meeting has been over for a good twenty minutes now. Most of the Order have dispersed back to their days, but a few still hang around the command centre. Forever is nominally in charge of navigation, but auto-pilot is engaged and they don't have anywhere specific to go. It's the sort of day where one person can manage both navigation and comms, though Cellbit has pulled up a chair and an old book of puzzles to keep himself occupied as he pretends to handle the later.

Not that puzzles are being done, at the moment; currently they're both over by the holographic map system, lazily watching the flightpath while chatting with Pac. Ever since Mike was kidnapped two - maybe three - months ago, he's been out of sorts. Of course he has - Forever doesn't understand what a soul-bond means, not innately, but to have someone trusted with your head pulled away? In danger with nothing you can do, with every lead going nowhere? Pac's honestly dealing weirdly well.

Forever knows he and Cellbit dealt /much/ worse when Felps was stolen from them.

"Any plans tonight?" he asks, when the conversation Cellbit and Pac were having slows to a halt.

"Roier wanted to show me something," Cellbit's face goes soft for a moment at the mention. "Who knows how it'll go?"

"Not really," Pac blinks a little harder than normal. "Maybe the bar? Is there anything else to do?"

"Steal the lab back for an evening?" Cellbit suggests.

"Dating!" is Forever's reply.

Pac laughs at the first, and goes red at the second.

"Ohhhh," Forever laughs, suddenly realising. "Is Fit going to be at the bar, by any chance?"

"I- Ah- Maybe!" Pac's hands swish about the air with just quite how flustered he is by the mere suggestion. "What about you? Aren't you up to anything?"

"Me?" Forever replies, teasing. "Well now you ask... No, not much. Pierre had some new reports I should probably start working through."

"The elerium reports?" Cellbit's eyes light up. "He's finished? Did he have much to say about it?"

"His report's short, Tubbo's though..." Forever laughs.

"Tubbo's right, though," Pac looks over to a point between Forever and Cellbit, thinking hard. "If we can fully harness it... Ship power isn't going to be a problem again. We might even be able to use it to channel... No, I don't think it'll work for grenades. We don't have enough anyway. But if we can find a way to safely embed it... You might... Maybe... You should make Tubbo talk to Pierre. I'm not up to date on all our schematics, and I'm not Mike, but... With the right wiring it should make energy weapons viable? And! The alloys he was looking at for the new armour? If I'm right about it-"

At some point during the ramble, Forever had looked away; one of the engineers was flagging him down for permission to start maintenance on the steering system. He is in the middle of giving them the thumbs up when Pac's ramble cuts off.

Forever abandons the engineer, head snapping back around to check on him.

Pac often trails off.

But Pac does /not/ cut off at the peak of excitement in a ramble. Not unless it's followed by an apology. Never to nothing, never to dead silence.

Forever's correct; Pac has frozen up, his eyes overtaken by a haze of glowing blue.

Fuck, psionics; Forever looks to Cellbit, who shakes his head - not anything he can detect, and so not anything from an attack.

Just in case he still sees Cellbit extend a nullification field over Pac - and Forever as well. No change.

Pac's fingers, previously loose on the guard rail as he leant against it, are white with the tension in his grip.

"Pac...?" Forever glances back and forth between Cellbit and Pac as he speaks. "Everything okay?"

Pac blinks.

Usually it would erase the glow.

This time... The colour shifts.

Right eye remains blue.

Left eye shifts to green.

"... Mike?"

If it /is/ Mike, some sort of long distance contact from his cell that Cellbit and Pac had both called too dangerous to attempt over the distance...

Forever tries to remind himself it means something is terribly wrong - Mike would have tried this earlier if he thought that he could - but all that happens is that his heart soars.

A lead, a lead, for the first time in months they have a better lead than 'somewhere in Australia, South-East Asia, the Pacific, or South America'. He's no idea how good a lead, but it is one.

"Mike!" Cellbit's call for their missing friend is sharper. "Pac? What's happening? Where are you?"

Pac - Mike - neither of them respond. Pac doesn't even blink, his body rigid against the guard rail.

Cellbit reaches an arm behind him, making sure he doesn't fall back over it if at any point he goes limp. The action... The action forces Forever's brain into accepting just how serious this probably is.

And no matter what, once this is over Pac is going to be a wreck. He's coping... badly, but so much better than any of them thought he would, the bad limited to reckless disregard for his own safety, not anything else. After this, though, after having Mike in his brain only to have to leave...

If he and Cellbit aren't enough to help - and they won't be - there's two other people Forever can think that Pac might want. He grabs his communicator, sending messages summoning Fit and Felps.

Fit is on the training range, and Felps is probably asleep, but at least they'll come as soon as they're free.

Forever and Cellbit... They can work with that.

He leaves Cellbit to do whatever psionic things he's trying - soul-bonds aren't like Cellbit's academic psionics, but it comes from the same root source, they think - and does what he can.

The engineer has taken his distraction for permission, and is doing her job. Forever... This isn't his, but all the crew are his responsibility - and especially the Brazilians.

He takes one of Pac's hands, peeling it from the guard rail and interlacing the fingers with his own.

Nails dig deep into his hand as Pac, still blank eyed and otherwise unresponsive, clings back.

It stays like that for a few minutes - even on their ship they refuse to leave Pac alone and vulnerable. Just... Forever holding his hand, Cellbit protecting his back, and Pac's face completely blank in a way Pac's never is.

Forever can read the tension in his body, though, the way the shaking grows with every breath.

He does his best to reassure them, whatever combination of Tazercraft can or cannot hear him, all the while shooing anyone looking into walking past. Fit and Felps still haven't replied, but it's okay, it's okay, he and Cellbit can at least keep Pac curled up sobbing somewhere safe until other help arrives. Forever wants to fix it, wants to take the tension from Pac's spine and bring him Mike - the only real way to soothe the gash in his soul - wants to just keep those he cares about safe.

But, no, all Forever can do is hold Pac's hand as the minutes tick away.

Tick, tick, tick away...

One minute

Two minutes

Three.

Four minutes pass, five...

The green disappears from Pac's eyes.

He screams.

The blue is still there, lashing out from his eyes. Forever drops his hand to try to pull Pac against him; Cellbit shifts like he's about to try and do the same.

Before they can touch him, it stops. It all stops. Pac crumples to the floor, deathly silent, terrifyingly still - a limp, dead weight. Forever catches him against his shoulder, easing him to the floor, unable to think, unable to breathe. Cellbit takes over, calling Pac's name, checking his breathing, lowering him onto his side.

Forever drops to his knees, and lets the jolt of pain break the trance. He grabs his comm back up, not even looking as he flicks the button to summon someone from medical.

"Is that...?" he looks to Cellbit, and Cellbit looks back.

And, fuck, Cellbit is just as helpless as him.

"No idea," their best expert on psionics says, and they're fucked; Forever knew that, but can't blame a man for hoping. "Bonds aren't... I don't do bonds. Pac would be the one to ask."

And Pac is the one lying on the floor.

It's another couple of seconds before Pac's eyes blink open. As soon as he sees, Forever leans down, brushing a hand along his cheek.

"Pac?" he asks. "Pac, are you okay?"

Pac's eyes do find him, and do focus properly. It's a relief, even as the tears start flowing.

Forever... Forever doesn't know what could possibly cause such a violent reaction, but his heart shatters at the possibilities. He doesn't want to think, doesn't want to think-

"Mike," Pac whispers between the sobs. "Mike..."

Too late, too late, they're too fucking late.

Forever can see his own hands shake as he brushes them across Pac's skin. He needs to pace, to scream, to think, to plan, to- to- there is /no/ making this right, but he /has/ to, he has to, he has to, Mike can't- He can't be-

Forever cannot even think the word.

Cellbit is also quiet.

Cellbit's hands are also trembling.

Cellbit must have concluded the same.

Forever wonders why the fuck Cellbit has not taken back his position, when Forever sits here trembling and Cellbit manages to at least flag the medics down.

They nudge him to one side, two helping Pac while the third orders him and Cellbit to sit, orders someone else to get warm drinks, and generally takes control of the support staff. Someone - Forever thinks it might be Jaiden, but he can't quite see more than a purple blur, so it could be Vegetta - has taken over navigation and comms. One of those warm drinks is placed in his hands, and another in Cellbit's. Pac is able to - with a bit of help - sit by the time he's helped onto a stretcher. It's a relief, it's a relief, if the only one Forever has - and, fuck, how does he face Pac again, when he didn't have the information.

Fit appears at some point. One of Tubbo's people - Tubbo's people, who used to be Pac and Mike's people, fuck - directs him.

Fit's face is pale, when he sprints off.

Felps joins them even later. He doesn't say anything as he worms his way between Forever and Cellbit, pulling them both into a hug.

Bagi's away from the Avenger, doing work with Tina and one of the rebel cells. They're necessarily out of contact; they have time to work out how to tell her. Everyone else... Fit will work it out, once he sees Pac - if he hasn't already. Otherwise... Maybe he can fob the announcement off on Wilbur, but it doesn't seem right, doesn't seem... He's the commander of this operation, it's /supposed/ to be his job.

But he can't, he can't - right now all he can think of is pink hair and sharp laughter and a sharper mind, bright eyes behind taped together glasses.

They... They still don't know where he is. They'll never even be able to retrieve a body; the thrice-damned Federation will have melted it down for parts before they get there.

Just like they did to all those civilians...

That's what breaks him, in the end. Forever curls over Felps shoulder, and sobs into his neck.

Mike, Mike, Mike...

He's lost everyone before - lost Mike before, not once, but twice.

It still hurts, it still hurts, maybe it even hurts worse than before.

Really, he should have known miracles don't come in threes.

---

At some point, Felps steers them all into the privacy of Forever's... office-slash-bedroom. There's definitely a desk and computer there, but also some old beaten up couches, a thousand filing cabinets, and an old army bed shoved in a corner.

There's also a coffee machine on a table between two of the cabinets, and Forever doesn't have the strength to stop Cellbit from abusing it today.

He's trying to plan, trying to think - but what can he do? They know where the /Hunter/ is, they could get revenge, but there's still the Warlock, and even taking out those three doesn't promise safety. His instincts say pull everyone back, cocoon up, drag everyone else to safety and let nothing touch them ever again - especially now there's /children/ on the ship too.

But they don't have that choice. They have too many friends, too many allies, too many people to save and too few of them would ever leave the world to burn.

Fit's not come to find them, so at least Pac isn't alone. He should go, he should maybe try comfort Pac, but what can he say? Sorry my contacts weren't good enough to find your soulmate before he was murdered? Fuck, he can't do that.

But then again...

Felps is telling a story, trying to keep their minds off things they cannot change. Cellbit doesn't seem to be listening, and Forever certainly isn't, but there's some things he just cannot change.

They did get Felps back.

... They did, right?

Forever reaches out, grabbing his wrist. His fingers find his pulse, and he forces himself to breathe. Felps was dead - everyone was convinced Felps was dead - but he wasn't actually. He wasn't harvested and liquidised, his brain was used as a CPU for a supercomputer instead. Horrific, horrifying,with mental and physical scars to this day, but they got Felps back.

Maybe...

Pac would know if Mike was still alive, even like that; if the soulbond is still there, it's there. If it's not...

Though...

Oh.

Forever pulls Felps with him as he marches to one of the cabinets. Which mission, which mission, which mission...

There. Operation Wailing Feast. No losses of their own, minimal civilian causalities too, but it was more by sheer, dumb luck than anything else. Philza had been in command, but Roier had written the initial report, the paperwork slightly smeared in blood, because Mike had been a sobbing mess, and the rest of the squad were recovering from major surgery.

It was before there was a proper medical facility on the ship, too; Aypierre's lab was thoroughly cleaned first, sure, but between needing to do surgery in an autopsy lab, and the only place for them to go after being the beds at the side of the common room, it's a wonder all of them made it.

They had - all of them had recovered - but it had never been a sure thing.

Another failure on Forever's part - he should have realised they'd need a medical ward sooner, should have made it the highest priority. But the cash just wasn't coming, and the parts, and...

And, there is one, now. He fixed that error.

Guilt is not what he came here for, it's just too easy to feel.

He refocuses and ignores Roier's report. Instead he looks for the other page, written by Philza several weeks later, once the man's hands were capable of writing again.

Skims it over, skims it over and breathes.

The report is short, as Philza's tend to be, and Roier had already covered most of the details. It, however, concerns the circumstances of Pac's injuries that day - caught in multiple explosions in quick succession, burns, shrapnel wounds, knocked out by the concussive force...

There's a note there, too, of how Mike had panicked. Panicked and started blind firing at anything that came close. He'd believed Pac dead, at first, needing coaxing to reach back along the bond and find him. Only then did he calm down long enough to allow Philza's Crow to approach, and stabalise Pac's wounds.

He clutches the paper, and names it hope - it says nothing good, it says so many terrible thing, but- but the soul bond /is/ fallible. In heightened emotional states, if someone is injured enough, it's possible to miss.

Even if they read Pac correctly - and now he thinks Pac never said Mike was gone, just the green vanished from the connection and Pac had called for him while sobbing - even if Pac can't feel Mike... It doesn't mean Mike's dead.

It's Forever's turn to drop to his knees in relief. He hates that it's relief - for Pac to have that reaction, for the soul bond to be missed, Mike must be horrifically wounded and is still held captive by an enemy that liquidises humans in a very literal way, for nobody knows what purpose - but it is. Because... Because he might not be too late. Mike might be /alive/.

He sobs, but they're not sad tears this time.

He hands the paper to Felps.

Felps, whose eyes also light up, and hands it to Cellbit.

Cellbit, who still downs the coffee but slams the mug into the table and says "do you think Pac has any idea where to look now?" already working on a new plan.

It's a good question. Pac was too out of it earlier, but maybe...

Forever's comm pings, and the timing is immaculate; it's Fit, saying Pac's properly awake and wants to speak to them.

It's followed by another message saying at least Fit thinks that's right, but Pac's struggling with English more than usual and his Portuguese isn't great.

"I'll go talk to him," Forever breathes out. "Do you-?"

"You two go," Felps takes the paper back from Cellbit, and puts everything back away. "I'll start asking around. Maybe Fred's people have something?"

They checked in yesterday and had nothing then, but the name of the game is hope, and contacting Fred's faction is always more complicated than the others. Maybe they'll have information from Pac once they manage to get a meeting.

---

Medical is the same as ever, if surprisingly quiet. It's been a while since their last full operation - Forever is certain that everything will go to hell soon, it always does - and nobody's managed to get shot on more covert activities of late. Pac's the only patient, curled up on a bed towards the back with Fit at his side and a nearby doctor keeping half an eye on him while she cleans.

"Pac!" Forever sweeps to his other side, taking one of his free hands. "Are you alright? You didn't hit your head or anything?"

Pac squeezes his hand, and offers a shaky, scared smile, "I'm good, I- Um... Fit?"

He glances at Fit, who tilts his head. After a second, the bomber works it out.

"Doc says he's just exhausted himself," Fit squeezes the hand of Pac's he's holding. "They're more trained on physical shit, but something about overtaxing himself psionically...?"

Cellbit's expression goes dark for a second. He storms over to Pac's side, pressing to fingers to the side of his head. Their eyes meet and Cellbit's eyes take on a slight red glow as he presses harder onto Pac's skin.

While Cellbit works Fit squeezes Pac's hand, and stands.

"I'll give you guys some privacy, let Tubbo know what's going on," he says.

Pac reaches for a hug; Fit gives it with only a little hesitation, whispering something in his ear before heading out. He gives Forever a wave, and it's returned, and then it's just a case of waiting for Cellbit to be satisfied.

Eventually, Cellbit pulls the fingers away, frowning as he does. "What happened, Pac? You're lucky - that's low enough to- fuck, Pac, you'll hurt yourself like this."

Pac doesn't even laugh nervously, his eyes just flicker to his hands.

"Mike reached for me," Pac says, clearly still badly drained. "I knew... I knew it would be bad, if he was reaching that far. We know it's too far to do safely..."

He trails off, and Forever tries to be gentle in his questioning.

"Is Mike okay?" he asks, because until he has that answer he doesn't know if he can breathe.

"Alive," Pac says, and both of the other Brazilians in the room relax; Cellbit starts texting Felps and maybe Roier as soon as that word is said. "He... He's hurt, though. Badly. I'm not sure what happened - physically - it was... We were entwined, we were trying to stay together, then suddenly he pulled back. Seconds later he grew very faint. He's not... Not gotten worse since, but..."

But it doesn't mean anything good, if the building tears mean anything.

"What happened?" Cellbit is the one to ask. "Mike isn't stupid, he wouldn't have risked it unless..."

"Cucurucho," Pac says, and the room goes dead silent.

Even the doctor freezes for a moment, before beginning to scrub even harder than before.

"Interrogation?" Cellbit asks, the only person they know to have been interrogated by one of the Federation's spokesmen.

Well, interrogated and have survived.

And he only lived, they think, because the cursed bear thought it was funnier that way.

Pac nods, shaking, "he... I don't know exactly? He threw /himself/ at me, I caught him and threw up a shield. I think... I think I covered everything important, but- but... not everything. There wasn't time. And the claws..." a particularly violent shudder. "I felt a little of the rest, as he pulled away. It's... Cucurucho must have read it, but it's all... fragmented? I... I don't-"

"You saved him," Cellbit cuts Pac off without a moment's hesitation. "Pac, listen to me? No matter what Cucurucho did or didn't take, Mike is alive because of /you/. Whatever happened? We can fix it. So long as he's alive when we get to him, we can fix it."

"I don't-" tears bubble out of Pac's eyes, and onto his cheeks. "He's so weak. He's there, he's still there, but..."

Forever shifts over to the bed, offering Pac a hug. It's quickly taken up, Pac folding against him.

"We'll find him," Forever promises, because if he's alive then they /can/. "Any information might help, but no matter what, we'll find him."

He's been saying that for months, now; he continues convincing himself it's true.

Pac shakes his head at first. Forever knows his friend - he gives it a second even as Cellbit's feet tap-tap on the floor.

The second pays off; Pac raises a hand, and points out in a direction, "he's that way. Not sure how far, but... Not this continent."

Forever sees Cellbit grab a compass - why he's carrying one he has no idea - setting it up and scribbling the direction on his hand.

It's something, it's so much more than they had.

"Thank you," Forever whispers to him. Holds him tight, doesn't know if Pac will ever understand how much he means to them - with Mike, yes, but even without him - and how wonderful he is. "Thank you, Pac. Rest, you did well; thank you, thank you so much."

There's no more promises that it'll be okay - they can't promise that, not here, not now, not like this. But it might be, it might be, it's possible.

The thread is fraying but it's not yet been cut; there's still a chance to pull it back in and weave in new strands.

All they can do is try.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp x xcom #qsmp forever #qsmp au #qsmp cellbit #qsmp pac #qsmp tazercraft #angst #fred gets to be a defector this au because I needed more than just walter bob #congrats them #its grocery day but in the afternoon as had to wait for a parcel ew

[danpuff-ao3]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thanks for the tag, @givereadersahug [x]!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Normally I like to specify "HP Fics" since that's my current mode, but altogether (with other fandoms and meta across other pseuds) I'm at 112! (101 for HP Fics, though! 😂)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

689,993 so far!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just Harry Potter, but I have a few Marvel fics still on my account, under my danvers pseud!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ooh interesting! Let's see...

Daddy's Boy (Snarry, E, 2k)

Daddy Knows Best (Snarry, E, 2k)

Obscene (Snarry, E, 1k)

Breed Me, Daddy (Snarry, E, 2k)

Contempt (Snarry, E, 20k)

0% surprised that 3/5 are Daddy fics LOL. Though lowkey offended that Contempt is only #5. My proudest work but boy oh boy do people love their weird porn!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Heck yes! Though I need to catch up now. It means the world to me that people take the time to leave me their love, so the least I can do is give my gratitude. You have no idea how much a comment makes my day!

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

Aha hands down this one is so easy: A Matter of Time. I am stupidly happy with how that one turned out, and just how well executed that angst was. Not to toot my own horn or anything!

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

idk why but my first thought was Orange Blossoms...which is pretty angsty-fluff all told and the ending is hopeful at best. My brain just goes: "that's a happy fic, right?" 😂 But actually I think probably The Curse of Anteros. That one's properly happy, I think, with plenty of angst beforehand to make that happy ending feel well worth it! Though someone is free to correct me, with over 100 fics maybe I lost a happier ending somewhere in there! 😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often. I did go on a delete-a-spree late 2020 due to some rudeness. One person bookmarked a fic calling my writing "mediocre" and I sorta spiraled. Also I get the odd person leaving weird comments on Collateral Damage for the surprise (background) ship in there. Also the odd person who doesn't read tags on fics that are especially angsty or especially dead dove...idk for all the weird and problematic stuff I write I could get more hate I guess, though I'd rather not!

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

Who me? Nah. 👀 idk, I write whatever tickles my fancy! Oftentimes it's virginity loss cuz that's my favorite. I love big passion and bits of violence thrown in. Idk "what kind" actually means so hopefully that was a good explanation! A bit rough, a bit mean, a lot of passion, and it's probably someone's first time doing something.

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

No, but I want to! I have a HP + PJO crossover I swear I'm going to get to one day!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of and I really hope no one out there steals my fics. I work really hard on them and they mean a lot to me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few!

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

No but again: I want to! I've had fanart made, and podfics, and translations...the closest I've come is for Snarry Bang and collaborating with an artist, which was The Curse of Anteros with @mrviran!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

SNARRY!!!! OTP for 20 years and counting!

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

Geez. Probably old fics long abandoned on ffnet, but I won't get into those. (Though I'd really like to rewrite and continue/finish Resistance.)

16. What are your writing strengths?

...causing pain? Idk I don't feel I have strengths, but I'm told I hurt people's feelings 😂 I write intensity pretty well I think? I like to think my characterization is okay. idk!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

All of it. Writing in general. AHEM. Um....fluff? I'm almost curious enough to ask but no please don't tell me my weaknesses, it'll hurt my feelings 🤣

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

I like it! Adds a bit of flavor imo! But to each their own, y'know?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter! I've only ever written for HP, Marvel (of which a few still exist online), and Stormlight Archive (of which none still exist online). Weird I never wrote for Supernatural, considering how mega into that fandom I was for a while...

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hands down Contempt. I'm still the proudest of that fic. I'm starting to think The Curse of Anteros is better, but Contempt will always have my heart.

I really poured my whole heart and soul into that work. And I still get way too emotional talking about it or thinking about it! And it still blows me away how many people have loved it. I really wanna relisten to the podfic @mrviran did of it and just sob through it! 😂 God I really, really love that fic. I truly do not have the words to express just what that story is to me.

Tagging (no pressure): @perverse-idyll, @writcraft, @lizzy0305, @arrisha-ao3, @babygray, @fleetingdesires, @ripeteeth, @loneamaryllis, @wolfpants, @sweet-s0rr0w, @greenmegsnoham, @lqtraintracks, @serenaew, @indigo-scarf, @maesterchill, aaaand anyone else who wants to play!

#danpuff writes #tag game #fic writers questions #20 questions

[nerves-nebula]

Oh boy, that last comic really made me sad/pos

As you said, it changes everything and it changes nothing, they'll probably start being paranoid about any interaction Leo and Splinter have going foward

They will look at how happy Leo is to spend time with him and just wonder how he is able to do it, then again that's what grooming does to you. You might hate it, be disgusted by it, be afraid of it and the person but you still spend time with them because you are used to it

Leo has a survivor streak, But it's directed mostly to himself as self-preservation. What would he get from running away? Unlike his brothers he doesn't want to go away from everything he knows and deems "safe" because of how isolated he is from them

He has no friends(Like Raph)or someone who cares for him more than at à very basic level (Like Mikey and Donnie who have eachother and Raph)

He might be their sibling and he cares for them at à minimun because even when he is told how little they should mean to him Splinter also makes them "important enough" that he wants to keep them with him

I guess I just see myself in her but very different because even when I found out what my abuser was doing was wrong I stayed well into adulthood to protect my siblings since my abuser fixation was me(I used to daydream they would one day say I was "too old" but that never happened)

Had to fake I cared and they were very delulu about my feelings and our "relationship" which started when I was a literal toddler, didn't want to endanger my siblings until I got all of us out and they never knew what was going on, I've never told anyone even when the bitch kicked the bucket

And I guess Leo would have been the same? I can't see him opening up because he want to about it, he would rather be in denial than see herself that way

leo WOULD rather be in denial, but unfortunately one of the things his brothers required for them to not abandon him was to work on his emotions. he does talk about it eventually, but not as extensively as some of his brothers. he mostly just acknowledges it and sometimes brings it up if its relevant to current emotions, but most of that trauma is saved for THERAPYYYY BABYYY

GUH I love ur reading of leo here its really fun to see all the stuff you pick up on and how you related to her mindset

ugghghghhh this ask is making me dream about the farm house arc. if i ever get around to it that might be the next Big Comic, or, alternatively, the next Big Fic (after I finish caracal carousel) (which lets be honest at this point its going to take a LOT of time to do)

though I kind of think I need to develop the PLOT/world/background cast more because they would play into how The Boys end up at the farm house. And the turtles fighting Shredder is what makes them work more as a team and get closer as siblings- so i should really get on it with designing shredder and his goals and shit. GUH.

sidenote: I'm sorry you went through that, and I'm glad the BITCH is dead. I know how fucking hard it is to decide between your own safety and your siblings safety and frankly doing what you did sounds hellishly difficult.

#nnstuff #ask #asks are sweethearts #child abuse tw

[felixantares]

Trick or treat! Can I ask for something from Shrines that we probably won’t see on screen (like a headcanon or something that happens in the background 👀)

this is such a good question, i love it!! 💚

I was trying to think of something that I could post, and I mean there's tons of little things that probably won't make it into the fic, I have 2 and a half notebooks full of worldbuilding and character notes and probably a combined 80k in various outline and other docs in my g-drive, so there's lots that'll probably never see the light of day, but nothing that's very interesting. (Unless you find the timetables and lesson plans for Durmstrang particularly exciting. don't answer that LT I know you actually would want to see them)

I've been having a lot of thoughts about background characters though and I'm sure a lot of this absolutely will make it into my fic at some point, but how about some mad rambling that's part hc part ?????, in no particular order (there's definitely a theme though... I didn't mean for that to happen but they all sort of fall under isolation and bullying):

Luna's spent most of her life by herself and it doesn't really bother her — except for when it does. People think she's strange and off-putting, and she doesn't understand them any more than they understand her, but it gets lonely sometimes. The only person who ever cared to listen to her stories spent their whole first year ignoring her, and she tries not to blame Ginny, but it still hurts.

Ginny spent her whole first year homesick and possessed by the diary of a boy who dug out her darkest secrets and then tried to kill her, and by the time she comes back for second year she finds that all her classmates have fit in to their own little groups and there's no where left for her. Her brothers try to help, but hanging out with them leaves her feeling like a burden, and she'd like to spend time with Ron but seeing Harry just reminds her of all the things she tries so hard to forget. Her best friend is mad at her, and she can't even blame Luna because she abandoned her first, but she's never felt more alone.

Millicent understands that the she's the butt of a joke the whole school is in on. People think she doesn't know, but she hears them snicker when she walks past. She's too big and her hair is too short; her clothes aren't right and she can't be bothered to put effort into an appearance she hates; she gets loud when she's excited, and sometimes talks too much, when people bother to talk to her. She likes quidditch, but she likes the wrong position — seekers get all the glory and chasers carry their teams, but beaters are just the muscle (unless they're the Weasley Twins, then it's cool to swing a bat). It makes people think she's slow and stupid; it doesn't seem to matter that she's top of her class in arithmancy, or that she's taking two extra electives.

Daphne is the perfect daughter. She never once complained about the never-ending lessons her parents subjected her to as a child. She can play six instruments and is fluent in three different languages. She gets good grades, not quite the top of her year, but well above average. All her teachers say that she's a delight to have in class. Quiet. Respectful. Helpful. She wants her parents to be proud, but every letter home goes unanswered or comes back with questions about how her sister is doing. Her peers talk to her but no one really knows her, and maybe that's by design but she wishes that just once someone would try to get past the barriers she's put up.

That was a lot longer than I thought it would be but anyway, have some of the girls' thoughts!

🎃 It's spooky season, send a trick or treat ask! 🎃

#felix talks #ask game #bmns(smns)

[calliopechild]

none of the emojis from the wip ask game fit exactly with what i want to ask, which is that if you have even the tiniest crumb of anything to say about the more things change i will feast until the end of my days >.>

Apologies for how long it took to answer this, but the levels of Catholic guilt this ask triggered (I say as someone who is not remotely Catholic) were so substantial that I dug out my old jump drive with all the TMTC files on it so that I could find a snippet for you.

The Telltale Heart moment aside, it is...bewildering in a lovely way that people still remember TMTC. Even though it's been *checks ff.net* oh Lord, almost 11 years since I touched it? I genuinely can't tell you how flattering that is, because this fic is still very dear to me, which I know is probably counterintuitive given all the dust and cobwebs that have gathered on it.

The radio silence is a combination of life stuff and the fact that I had the story plotted out when I started, and even had a decent portion of the ending written--and the fic as it exists now at chapter 24 went off the rails from that plan at least two chapters back, lol. A lot of what ended up happening in the fic means that what I had planned couldn't happen now, either because it'd be OOC or the circumstances just aren't possible. A lot of the relationships have changed too, and it kind of got to the point where I got so annoyed with having to basically scrap the whole final slice of the fic and start over that I put it on hold for a bit...and then here we are. ^_^;;

I don't want to get anyone's hopes up and promise that it'll be finished soon, but I also don't want to leave it unfinished forever. I can say that I'm pleasantly surprised to find that I have a lot more written of the new ending than I thought I did, so finishing it might not be impossible.

In the meantime, though, as thanks for still remembering my abandoned child fic, have a blurb of Naomi trying to restrain herself from beating Leo to death in the hospital for being a stubborn idiot:

“Why did you jump between us, then? When tou-chan drew that sword?”

“I told you, it was instinct.”

“And you knew you could protect me.”

Leo nodded again, and I fought down a grin; he’d set me up just like I’d wanted him to. “Well, then maybe you can understand why I’m confused. I’m having a little trouble reconciling the fact that you knew you could protect me with your idea that leaving is supposedly the best way you can keep us safe.”

“Just because I can protect you doesn't mean I want to make it necessary; if I stay away, the trouble does too.”

It was not appropriate to throttle a hospital patient, I reminded myself, but I was going to win this argument one way or another. “People get hurt; that’s life. If your benchmark for successfully protecting someone is that they never get hurt, you're always going to fall short because no one can guarantee that. I know it’s what we’d all prefer, but we can’t keep the people we love from ever getting hurt. Things are always going to happen that we can’t prevent. You’re setting a standard for yourself that no one could reach, Leo, and I don’t know why you’d want to do that to yourself. I'm fine, my father's fine, and if we're ever not fine, it won't be because of something you did or didn't do. I don't want to be kicked out of your life just because you've suddenly decided you're too dangerous to be around.”

Leo closed his eyes for a second, then looked up at me, mouth hard. “Maybe I don’t want another person to protect.”

For a few seconds I just sat there, listening to the squeak of shoes in the hallway and someone's voice buzzing on the overhead speaker, waiting for—something. For Leo to say he didn't mean it, for my stomach to stop dropping, for it to somehow make sense how Leo had gone from telling me we'd been a safe place to saying we were a burden he didn't want.

He didn't say anything. He just sat there, eyes on mine and not giving an inch.

I'd have believed he really meant it if it wasn't for the way his hands were fisted in his blanket, the knuckles standing out sharp and white. Something April had said in our conversation the other day floated into my mind.

“I'm…look, I don't want to sound insulting by saying this, but I'm glad you care enough to ignore Leo when he told you he was too dangerous to be around. I don't know how much he's told you, but he did the same thing to me once, except it was in the middle of us running after being attacked. It was in my home, and my friends who were being attacked, and Leo still told me it was their fight, not mine. That's just Leo—he accepts danger to himself but doesn't realize that in his efforts to protect others, he's being insulting by implying no one else might accept that danger too. But he never tried that with me again, so he really can learn; just hang in there.”

From the sound of things, Leo had just tried to get her to leave, rather than making it sound like he wanted her out of his life. I knew this was probably some idiotic belief that it'd keep me safe, as if doing so would somehow make Karai forget about me and tou-chan. And maybe it should have warned me about how serious Leo thought the danger was. Maybe it should have made me listen, especially since I had evidence of how willingly Karai would resort to violence right in front of me.

What it actually did was piss me off.

If that was how he wanted it, fine. I shoved my chair back as I stood up, reaching for my purse and my temper. “Good.”

Leo's eyelids flickered. “Good?”

“Yes, good.” I leaned into his space, bracing my hand on the bed beside his shoulder, because if he was going to hear me about anything, it was going to be this. “You know why? Because I don’t remember ever asking you to protect me. That's not what I'm here for. The sentiment—that you don’t want to see me get hurt—that’s nice, really, but the way you go about it…” I shook my head, ignoring the fact that when I was this close, I could see flecks of blue in his eyes; this was not the time, dammit. “I'm going assume it's the drugs making you forget that you don't get to decide for me what risks I'll take. And since you apparently haven't figured it out yet, you're about a week too late to try and cut us off, because Karai already knows about us. You leaving isn't going to magically make her forget where she found us.”

I bit my tongue before I went any further. There was a line between making my point and trying to hurt Leo back, and implying that we were in danger from the minute Karai realized we might be important to Leo was charging right over that line. “You can’t fight life, Leo. You can’t stop every bad thing from happening to the people around you. I guess the real question is whether or not you can accept that, or if you'd rather not let anyone in ever because they might get hurt.”

I walked out, trying to ignore the way the nurse at the desk dropped her eyes to her computer and pretended to look busy. That was fine. I didn't want anyone looking at me right now anyway.

"Maybe I don’t want another person to protect."

In Leo's head, that was probably some sort of sign that he really did care, to the point that he was willing to burn all his bridges and make me mad enough to write him off for good so long as it kept us out of the line of fire.

But maybe part of him had meant it. I could tell Leo had meant it when he'd admitted how important the dojo was, how important it was to him to have somewhere where he didn't have any obligations. Maybe he'd wanted it to stay that way, for us to not turn into more people he had to keep safe, for us to just keep being a slice of normal for him to visit once in a while. He'd said it before, when he told us about Karai, that he couldn't be responsible for anyone else.

Except of all the things I'd learned about Leo, it was that protecting was what he did when he cared. So what did it say that he didn't want to add us to the list?

#eleven YEARS this fic has been sitting there i cannot believe #i mean i can but geez #self-flagellation aside the fact that people still remember this fic has me so 🥺🥺🥺 i'm not even kidding #also if anyone is understandably not convinced of the likelihood of me finishing this someday & wants the sparknotes version of how it ends #hit me up; i'd be glad to share

[effingunicorns]

14, 23, 24 for the choose violence ask?

I know very little about fma but I promise to take all your fandom opinions on it as gospel.

you are exceptionally kind (◡‿◡ ) this post is now front-loaded as hell.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

god, how to pick? obviously there's the whole bottom Ed thing--I don't usually care about top/bottom discourse in m/m ships unless someone's trying to say Dean Winchester's not a bottom, but there are literally only 51 Roy/Ed fics on AO3 where Ed tops out of more than 4,000 total fics in the ship tag, or out of a little under 2,000 if you restrict it to mature, explicit, and unrated fic. That's 1-2.5%!!! and I wrote two of them!!! why does no one believe in variety here!!!

but it gets better, because there's also several things that scream "I don't know how to deal with the passage of time in canon". basically, due to a huge personal fuck-up, Ed starts canon with two prosthetic limbs and the ability to transmute things into new shapes with a clap of his hands, as opposed to studying and making advance preparations like anyone else. he's also incredibly short for his age. he slowly and measurably gets taller as canon goes--which is weird enough for a manga/anime even before you factor in that his being sensitive about his height is key to a running gag--and at the very end there's a sequence of events where his prosthetic arm gets destroyed, his brother sacrifices himself to get Ed's original arm back, and then Ed sacrifices his ability to do alchemy at all to bring his brother back, having finally learned the lesson that people are more important than power. then everyone lives happily ever after and Ed grows to a perfectly normal height for his age--arguably even tall.

so naturally every post-canon fic is Edward Elric Keeps His Automail or Edward Elric Keeps His Alchemy, or both at once, or both at once and not even tagged for, or not in a way that can be properly wrangled. Ed still being short is such a given that the only tag regarding his height is if he actually gets tall like canon says he does! and there's a frankly weird amount of self-loathing over things he never had a problem with in canon, or things he pretty clearly came to terms with--it's exactly like that post from the other day about characters who are funny or mean to conceal their real feelings getting mischaracterized because fandom is too focused on the chewy bits.

and all of this isn't even getting into the fics where he stays in the military, but there are other questions to get into!

23. ship you’ve unwillingly come around to

I wouldn't add it to my wheelhouse or anything, but I've learned to see where the Elricest shippers are coming from. Ed and Al basically raise themselves for most of their childhood. Most of their few age-appropriate friends are some combination of fellow genius, royalty, and assassin, and the rest of their friends are mostly adults who treat them as fellow adults. their respective concepts of normal are off on another planet somewhere, and so it doesn't seem like as huge a leap as I used to think for them to say fuck it and add another taboo to the list. sure, they screwed up hard on the last one, but at least this one isn't likely to cost them body parts, right???

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

so far I've actively made an effort to not go searching things out. partially this is because stirring the pot in such an ancient fandom feels mean, and partially this is because I've got other wank to look at when I'm hungry, but legitimately I think most of the really bad stuff is buried in 15- to 20-year-old LJ comments, abandoned message boards, and the like. there's evidence of fancops in these lands, to be sure, but when the two actual most popular m/m ships in the fandom are 14-year age gap starring a teenager and brother/brother incest, and the most viable alternatives to either are all m/f, they don't really have room to shit all over everything.

(I kind of want to invite folks to send me evidence to the contrary so I can preemptively block, but I pretty much never get trouble here, so it wouldn't really make a difference 🤷🏻‍♀️)

the choose violence ask game! (or in app mode if my theme is too much)

#asks #ask games #long post

[pocketramblr]

I posted 21,106 times in 2022

That's 963 more posts than 2021!

2,054 posts created (10%)

19,052 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/amotleycrew

@/the-queen-is-off-duty

@marshmelonfluff

@mayatuks-catastrophe

@gentrychild

I tagged 4,228 of my posts in 2022

#pocket talks to people - 1,266 posts

#anon - 731 posts

#fic rec - 235 posts

#psychic nura - 189 posts

#ask game - 137 posts

#gentrychild - 84 posts

#anyone: brozawa edition - 73 posts

#my writing - 69 posts

#dracula daily - 55 posts

#princess tutu - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 118 characters

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ask game: a BNHA wrist soulmate AU where you have the name of someone you will kill on one wrist and the name of the one who will kill you on the other, please. ^^

the Implications....................

1- You don't want a soulmate, here. because that means you're going to kill someone, get killed, or both. But alas, some people are not so lucky. Izuku's got a name on one of his wrists- Shigaraki Hajime, and everyone he knows is sure he's going to get killed in a quirkless hatecrime. Inko is constantly terrified. His dad vanished as soon as he saw it in the hospital. Izuku still wants to be a hero. He hopes to make his life mean something, and maybe even his death, that way.

2- Izuku later assumes The Sludge Villian is Shigaraki Hajime, until All Might saves his life. He mentions this in a daze- "oh, i guess he's not shigaraki hajime after all. I still have time."- and All Might freezes. Because he's got the same name on his write. Because Nana had that same name on her wrist. Because that's AfO's real name, and he killed Nana, and All Might killed him. This kid shouldn't even know that name, let alone reluctantly show him on his wrist when he asks.

3- Stain has just straight up been killing whatever name he sees on his wrist and assuming its because they're unworthy. the paradoxical concern for this is not something he worries about. he spares anyone not on his list, including Iida Tensei.

4- Chisaki had names on his wrists. So did Eri. Those names were removed via Overhaul before Pops could ever see them.

5- AfO didn't even have to do a lot of work to find Tenko. All it took was hearing about the child born with his parents, grandparents, and sister's name on his wrist, immediately placed in state custody. After that, finding a boy with so many "shimuras" on one wrist was easy, and he was already angry to be abandoned and mistreated in a group home. The day he met his bio family was the day he died.

438 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#4

Red Osp 2015 vs 2022

598 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#3

As much as I love "a letter from my friend John" we technically aren't at the point where we're reading letters by characters yet- we're reading his diary.

I am sneaking along in my good friend Jonathon's luggage but it's hard to hear anything from inside the suitcase, so I read his diary after he goes to sleep for the day. He doesn't know I'm here so I obviously can't respond or say anything to him. But I'm so glad to be out of that case in the stuffy carriage, I hope I get a chance to look around Dracula's cool castle later

627 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

#2

Why are so many ghost king Danny things so angsty? Where’s the versions where he shows up with Starbucks or something to a meeting like ‘yeah I don’t want to be here but I gotta so *slurp* eh?’ Or ‘this is infinitely more interesting and important than my homework so..’

You're asking why the Vivisection Capitol of Fandom has a tendency to make a fic trope angsty

744 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Oh huh, I wonder for what personal reasons Helsing would do anything for John- he what

817 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #TWO dracula daily posts in the top ten of course of course

[liaromancewriter]

Do you consider your Ethan being less stubborn/damaged by his mom/attached to his principles? Because he changed his mind about dating Cassie after book 1 pretty quickly

Maybe I'm in the minority, but I have never seen Ethan in canon (or my fanfic world) as being so damaged from his childhood and so stubborn that he would deliberately hold himself back from what he truly wants in life. He's someone who made himself into who he wanted to be.

In my hc, Ethan is not anti-social but private. Even before Cassie comes to Edenbrook, he had a full life: friends (from college and professionally), interests outside of medicine (opera, travel, the arts, exercise) and a satisfying and successful career. We don't see it in canon because the book is written from MC's POV and anything not germane to the plot is removed. This is why fanfic fills the gaps.

Did his childhood abandonment influence him and his approach to believing in the longevity of relationships? Absolutely. But he was raised by a single parent who loved him. He and Alan had different perspectives, but I don't think Ethan ever doubted he was loved by his father. And by Naveen too for that matter.

Ethan is a reasonable man and when Cassie outlined a path forward for them (the way he'd taught her: when none exists, you create your own), he was able to see the flaws in his approach. It's not that his principles weren't important; he has a hard time living in greys. Rather it's that he needs to approach every situation like a condition to be diagnosed: go over the differentials and identify a plan. That's what he and Cassie did.

He changed his mind about dating Cassie, but that doesn't mean it was easy. Their relationship had A LOT of ups and downs, dramatic fights and arguments, times when Cassie wasn't sure they had a future. I have done a couple of fics about that, but I generally don't like angst so I focus on their good times. The highs were amazing; the lows not so much.

Whenever things would start to feel good between them, for him personally, Ethan's inner doubts and self-sabotaging behavior would emerge. It's like he is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. To keep pushing Cassie to see how much she'll take before deciding he's not worth it -- like Louise did.

It's a good thing Cassie is extremely stubborn and patient, but even she has limits and called him out on his behavior before her residency ended. As much as she wanted to stay at Edenbrook and in their relationship, if he wasn't willing to break the pattern and work on his issues, she was going to leave.

It was gradual for him, accepting that he could do this, and we see some of that thinking in this fic.

Tags under the cut

Character Asks: @bluebelle08 @crazy-loca-blog @coffeeheartaddict2 @doriopenheart @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

#ask and answered #ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

[rocknrollsalad]

I wasn't tagged by anyone but I stole it off my dash because I want to do it lol

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Only sixteen but I'm no where near done

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

an absolutely bonkers 98,955 (i'm a half a oneshot away from 100,00?!?!?!?! what the fuck) (and not to brag but I'm currently polishing something that'll be a minimum of 60k)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Stranger Things. There's some MCU on my ao3 because first and foremost I'll always be Bruce Banner trash

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Boyfriend Test - ADA Version 

From the Top, Make it Drop

Legally Speaking

It Was a Long Time Coming (Broken Arms and Healed Hearts)

Mountains, Molehills, and Other Such Problems; A Guide on How to Stop Your Nerd Boyfriend From Rambling by Steve Harrington 

The first fic has more kudos than three, four, and five combined. Also, I need to (again) pat myself on the back for the naming of number 5. A bitch to type out but I love it so much.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I struggle with what to type back to comments that are just the heart emoji but yeah, I eventually respond to them all. I wanna make friends and have cool fandom people and that doesn't happen being silent. Plus I'm so grateful people loved what I wrote enough to leave any comment at all.

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

I don't think there's an angsty fic in there, let alone an angsty ending.

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

While I think they all have happy endings, maybe The Boyfriend Test - ADA Version has the happiest??? I think. feel free to tell me I'm wrong lol

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, i've not gotten any hate. things I wouldn't call positive sure but no hate.

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

I tired once recently and it did not receive good reviews so I'll stick to what I know for now. Too many ideas to hone a craft lol

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

to go with what I've said above, I think I have too many ideas. I did see a post about an Amazing Race AU and the thought of writing that will not leave my brain. That'd be a crossover right?? If so there's probably one on deck but nothing currently published.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven't. I don't think i'm big name enough for that but wow would it be so neat. i support this for any and all of my works if anyone wants.

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

no. i had someone who wanted me to but it didn't end up working out, unfortunately. I've always done the roleplay side of fandom/tumblr so I feel I'd be primed for it. The vibes would just have to be right.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

The OTP of all time?? Bruce Banner and Randall Jessup. The amount of times I've given the powerpoint presentation on this ship and helped people see the light, I can't not answer this. I wanna say something cooler, something more well known, steddie even but I think it has to go to those nerds.

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

The thing I refer to as my big fic would have to be the answer right? I mean, I want to think I'll finish it. I believe in it so hard and I think it just needs a bit of help but as it stands now, it's the considered abandoned and I don't want it to be.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Slice of life stuff. Banter. Comedy.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

All the cool stuff like pirates and demons and smut

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

Don't use google translate?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

BBC Sherlock

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I think I'd either have to totally agree with my kudos graph and say The Boyfriend Test - ADA Version or completely disagree and say For a Bountiful Harvest (and Reprieve From Social Circles)