#Drabbles [Another Chapter in the History Books]

[liroyalty]

"... Suzanne." Ann never does that, she never starts a conversation with her sister using her full first name. That in itself showed something was off. The small collection of black roses & lilies she carried painted the situation none better.

It was enough to make Sue look up from the book in her lap at her sister, but she said nothing. She has said nothing... all day... it was very strange & quite unlike her. Yes, she hated socializing, but she was never so silent as a mime, like now.

"... I'm... I'm going to see mother." Ah. It was Mother's Day. Such a day was... difficult for them both, as Rosa as long departed from the earth, they would not celebrate as other families would this day. "Would you... like to come with me?"

"..." More silence. Today was a difficult day for them both, yes, but it was especially difficult for the Queen's youngest. When you are often called the cause of your mother's death, it makes Mother's Day a turmoil tenfold. A lifetime of being called a monster & killing someone you never intended too, returning to the forefront of your mind, like a river raging down stream. For Ann, it was easy for her to visit their mother's final resting place in the royal crypt... but for Sue, with all these memories of being called a killer & a monster... it all made her think... If she really did kill her mother, & by all accounts she very much did, then the killer should not visit their victim's grave... it would only befoul their place of rest & their spirit. They would not be able to rest in peace.

"... No." Sue finally said, her first word of the day, & it is a denial of what she really wants. She wants to see the Queen, her mother, but... would Rosa want to see her & her son's murderer? No one ever wants to see her... why would the Queen be any different. Maybe she is just that selfless & kind of a person & would forgive Suzanne for causing her own death, but no mother would ever forgive someone for causing the death of her only son... nevermind both. Sue simply looks back down, returning to her book. Trying to seem as monotone about this as she is to everything else in life.

"... Suzanne-"

"-Don't." And the younger sister is cutting off the older sister before she can even begin, voice trembling just so slightly. She knows what Ann is going to do, she wants to tell her it's alright to visit Rosa, but it is honestly not for her to say that. Neither of them know what the Queen wants... as much as Sue tried to find out... but Rosa never answers her calls to beyond. "Please... Ann...." She's made her choice already. It's better to deny herself any closer or happiness then to risk disturbing their mother's slumber with her youngest's foul presence.

"Please."

"..." Ann takes a stuttering sigh, one that holds in the tears she already wants to spill. She knows what's going on inside her sister's head, because they've been through this son & dance before. She wants to help, the tell Sue she's not a monster or a killer, & that their mother wants to see her... but she can not. It's easy for Ann to say that, she is not in Sue's position, she's not carrying the same weight as Sue.

"... Okay." Maybe next year Ann could convince her.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

The Rest Is History

A/N: Listen, was I supposed to be working on IPB AU? Yes. Did I write this fun drabble instead? Also, yes. I'm surrounded by enablers.... but the fact remains that Cassian is absolutely thinking abou the Roman Empire daily. And he would make a hot history nerd, so here we are. Dedicated to the GC ❤️

“Listen. I get it. It looks cool and all that, but you seriously expect me to believe any general in their right mind is going to use catapults and ballistae in a forest? A forest? Just imagine the poor guys trying to maneuver those into place between the trees. It would take forever and only leaves you exposed and puts you at more of a disadvantage.”

Nesta has to bite her lip around a smile as she listens to Cassian rant in the other room. Even through the closed door, his voice carries down the hall to her.

She had known Cassian was a history buff from their very first date. They’d gone to a bar in the historical part of town, down by the harbor, and as if he simply couldn’t stop himself, Cassian had leaned over after they’d ordered their drinks and explained how the location was notorious for shang-haiing back in the day. How one of the most notorious culprits was actually a woman who would flirt and trick sailors into having drink after drink with her until they passed out and woke up dazed and confused on a ship the next morning while she walked away with her pocket full of coin.

He had apologized almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, clearly embarrassed by the outburst. But Nesta had been so entranced by the way his hazel eyes had lit up when he spoke, the golds and greens of them practically sparking even in the low light of the bar. Entranced by the way his lips had tugged up into an easy, excited smile around the words he spoke. Entranced by his passion and his love even if it was for a topic she didn’t necessarily share in.

It had been enough to want a second date with him.

It had been enough to want a lot of dates with him.

And now, here Nesta is, curled up in the room they converted to her own personal library and office, listening to Cassian rant away to his followers on TikTok. It still leaves her with that same feeling as their first date, that same soft warmth blooming between her ribs. Still has her shaking her head fondly, as she burrows deeper beneath her pile of blankets and returns to the final chapter of her book.

By the time she is finishing the last page and finally closing the book, Nesta is less than impressed. She digs her phone out from where it’s buried between blankets and opens her Notes app, adding to her running list of points to make in her review. The ending? Terrible. Nothing worse than an author who clearly got offered a new book deal so they suddenly decide to add unnecessary plot to the final ten pages to set up another book. She’ll definitely be warning her TikTok followers about that.

To take her mind off the ending, she decides to open up the app in question, to check on what her followers are saying about her last book review, liking and replying to a good chunk of them. With a soft sigh, she sinks deeper against the pillows at her back, navigating to her FYP. Almost all of the videos are a trend sweeping across BookTok, of different creators trying to teach their boyfriends and husbands how to be a good book boyfriend. It has an idea sparking in Nesta’s mind, her eyes dancing toward the closed door to the library.

With a decided nod, she clambers up to her feet, padding out of the room and down the hall. She pauses in the doorway to Cassian’s office, leaning casually against the door jamb and watching him work. He has his ring light set up on the desk, phone poised and recording in the center. His hair is scraped back into a bun, and he’s wearing a loose tee that teases just enough of the dark swirls of ink that splash across his collarbones, that twist down his arms. But it’s his hands that really have Nesta’s attention, the way he waves them about as he passionately speaks to the camera.

“And don’t even get me started on the depiction of Marcus Aurelius. Did they even have a historian in that writer’s room?”

As Cassian continues to rant about the Roman emperor and his character in the movie, it’s clear that he can feel Nesta’s eyes on him. It’s the smile that gives him away first, the slow tug of his lips until the soft, dopey look he fondly calls his ‘Nesta smile’ takes over his face. And then his eyes start glancing toward her, and even with the distance, Nesta can see the way his gaze softens around the edges.

Even still, Cassian continues talking, continues recording as if nothing’s amiss. Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, but that merely has his smile growing. She always teases him when he does this, for the way he won’t re-record any of the videos and posts them regardless. When Nesta had taken a peek at his account and his videos, she’d seen plenty of comments asking what or, more particularly, who he was looking at.

When Cassian finishes, he reaches forward to stop his recording, turning to give Nesta his full attention. “Hey, Nes. Finally finish your book?”

“Yes. The ending was terrible.”

Cassian chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I’m sure your followers will appreciate your honesty on that.”

Nesta shrugs noncommittally, but she knows he’s right. It’s how she built her following in the first place: completely honest and transparent book reviews. “Speaking of followers. I do need your help with a video, a BookTok trend. We can call it even from when you made me chase after you for that August video.”

“Hey, that Pheidippides joke was hilarious,” Cassian defends, standing up from his chair even as he shakes his head as though fondly remembering the video. “The Persians slipped away like a bottle of wine…”

Nesta snorts at the reminder of the caption he used, turning on her heel and leading the way back to her library. She grabs her phone from where she left it, taking the time to set it up so it has the perfect framing of the door. Once she’s happy with it, she presses record, curling her hand around Cassian’s wrist and tugging him into the shot.

“So the trend is to lean against the door frame like the men in books do.”

“Lean against the door frame?” Cassian asks, shifting until his shoulder presses against the door jamb.

“No, the top frame,” Nesta corrects, grabbing his wrist again and tugging his arm up to demonstrate.

Cassian readjusts his stance, settling his weight forward as he leans against his raised hand, and offers her a winning smile. “Like this, sweetheart?”

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to smile. It’s meant to be sultry,” Nesta explains, frowning at Cassian’s expression. “What is that face?”

“Blue steel.”

“That’s it. You fail,” Nesta laughs softly, turning to walk back toward her phone and stop the recording.

An arm snakes around Nesta’s waist, fingers curling and spinning her back around. She barely comes face to face with Cassian before he’s backing her up against the door jamb, caging her in with his large body. Her breath hitches in her chest at the way his hazel eyes have darkened, and she can’t look away, even when his arm tightens around her waist, arching her back and pulling her flush against him. His hand slides along her jaw, thumb skating across her bottom lip before he leans down and kisses her, Nesta sighing into his mouth.

“How’s that compare to the men in your books?” Cassian whispers when he pulls back.

Nesta is sure that she must be blushing, but she clears her throat and extricates herself from Cassian’s hold. She can practically feel Cassian’s smirk on her back as she walks back over to her phone and stops the recording, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction. Especially when she watches back the way she became flustered and then melted into him in 4k.

“Well, I can’t post this.”

“You should definitely post it,” Cassian murmurs, his voice closer than she expects, but then his arms are curling around her waist as he plasters himself to her back.

And maybe it’s the warmth of Cassian wrapped around her. Maybe it’s the peace and security she’s found in his arms. Maybe it’s the way this history nerd has made her feel happier and more loved than she ever thought possible. Maybe it’s the way his lips pressing a line along her neck is very distracting.

Whatever it is, Nesta finds herself trimming the video to remove the parts at the beginning and end where she started and stopped the recording. Finds herself quickly adding subtitles and typing out an easy caption of, ‘I guess he passes after all… #BookTokChallenge #BookBoyfriend.’ After all, she can always delete the video later if she really wants to.

She presses post and tosses her phone aside, turning around in Cassian’s arms and kissing him properly, more than happy to go stumbling down the hall to their bedroom in a tangle of limbs. And later, while Cassian makes them dinner, Nesta sits atop their kitchen island and decides to open TikTok again, unable to hold in a surprised laugh as she reads the top, most liked comment on her most recent video.

Is that the fucking HistoryTok dude????

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

[morelikeravenbore]

Remedies & Revenge

🦋 A 500 word drabble I wrote based on this incident from @sallowsdiary. Featuring my girlie @ravenwind-75

Homesickness had compelled Aurélie to skip breakfast that morning, opting instead to read a book in the relative peace and quiet of the transfiguration courtyard. Compared to Beauxbatons, dining at Hogwarts was a chaotic affair in which all notions of decorum and civility were trumped for prank-pulling, drink-spiking and other such inter-house hostilities that would’ve never been tolerated at her old school. 

Only days ago, one Slytherin boy, presumably having lost some bet to the Gryffindors, had taken his meal wearing a full regalia of maroon and gold, glowering like was moments away from murdering the next person to so much as glance at him while the lions hooted and hollered from across the hall. After that, Aurélie had started taking her meals outside, where the giant oak and the pleasant sound of birdsong served as far better dining companions than murderous Slytherins and obnoxious Gryffindors.

Today, she was just finishing another chapter of "Hogwarts: a History", trying to gauge whether the school had always been full of eccentrics or whether she'd just lucked out and transferred during the Great Year of Chaos, when the sound of someone wailing her name diverted her attention. 

'Johanna?' Aurélie set her book down as her new friend Johanna Newman came stumbling across the courtyard, her hands covering the bottom half of her face. 'Are you alright?'

Garbling some incoherent reply, Johanna launched herself onto the bench where Aurélie was sitting, gestured frantically at her mouth and, with a very exaggerated lisp, cried, 'Thisth isth thso embarrathing!'  

Aurélie squinted at the girl’s mouth, where she was surprised to find a tiny golden goblet dangling from her lower lip.  

'Er, it's...lovely?' she offered, wondering whether tiny lip adornments were just another weird Hogwarts custom nobody had thought to warn her about. 

'Lovely?' Johanna wailed. 'Oh, I'm going to get that Thebastian Thallow!'  

‘Uh, who?'

‘Thebastian!' She took her fists angrily, a slightly unhinged gleam in her eyes. 'Actsth like he'sth Merlin's gift to withard kind, tho-called self proclaimed king of prankths!’ 

When Aurélie only looked at her blankly, Johanna explained, 'He'sth the Thlytherin with all the frecklesth.'

Ah, him. The wannabe Gryffindor. 

'Take thisth as a friendly warning, Aurélie,' she continued fervently, her lisp getting worse with her mounting frustration, ‘if he ever tries talking to you, thsave yourthelf and run for the hillths!’

'Duly noted,' Aurélie replied, eyeing the teeny tiny goblet with a mix of amusement and admiration; whatever charm Thebastian had used to shrink the cup and get it stuck to her lip was certainly a good one, though she dared not admit it to Johanna in her current state. Instead, she slipped her wand from her robes and gestured at the offending facial trinket. 

'I can help you remove it, if you like?’ she offered. ‘Unless you'd like to start a new fashion trend? I can see it taking off, honestly.’

‘Remove pleathe,’ sighed Johanna, pouting with obvious difficulty. ‘Then I'm going to plan my revenge!’ 

[miserymet]

Posting another piece of writing! This one is the opening chapter for a Bass-centric Modern AU. Much longer than the Drabble I posted, but rereading it made me nostalgic for this old AU. I’d like to do some art for it at some point.

Anyway, without further ado, here’s the fic:

His name was Ballade.

Bass doesn’t know much more than that. All he knows is his name and that he was year above him. He either doesn’t remember the rest or never learned it. See, that was the problem with Ballade. He was completely and entirely irrelevant. A stain on ruined shirt, a blemish against tattered skin. He didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things and not to anyone at school. A nobody in every sense of the word. Bass doesn’t remember what was so annoying about him either. All he remembers is that one day he said something, and Bass wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

Ballade was the first to end up on the pavement, blood leaking from his face. He was not the last.

Bass Wily’s history is best described as “colorful.” From a young age it was easy to see that he was different from his peers. Teachers described him as difficult, classmates as terrifying, and parents as concerning. That was only the beginning. His first fight was in elementary, with the aforementioned Ballade, but his real beginning was in middle school. Why, the list of his enemies was so long they could make it into a phone book. The list of people he beat to a pulp wasn’t quite as long, but the amount of fights he lost wouldn’t even take up a footnote. As you can imagine, this was a nightmare for his father.

It’s no wonder the old man got sick of him. He came out of freshman year with bloody knuckles and a bad attitude. Most would have sent him to a boot camp. Most would have the shame to admit that they had failed somewhere along the way. But not Wily, no, he could never call his own blood a lost cause. Not when his rotten son ending up in juvie was sure to make the headlines. No, Wily had a different plan in mind. A plan that got Bass out of the way and wiped his record clean. A plan he never planned on filling Bass in on until it was too late to make a run for it.

A plan he named Zero.

That’s how Bass finds himself in the passenger’s seat of a car he’s never been in before, staring out over a dark and endless highway. The lights are few and far apart, covering the car for only a moment before cutting out again. For as far out as they are, there’s nothing to see. All around them are miles and miles of roads and fields and lifeless desert that threatens to swallow him whole. It’s a wasteland. That’s all that lies between the cities out here. Dirt and dust and rock. It’s miserable. At least now it’s too dark to see anything.

The inside of the car isn’t anymore comfortable. His jacket hangs loosely over him, unzipped and falling off his shoulder. It’s just cold enough to make him uncomfortable, but it’ll be too warm if he zips it up. So he doesn’t. Bass just slouches in his seat and breathes a deep sigh. 

The radio buzzes in his ear, playing something that was probably popular thirty years ago. Now it’s nostalgic. Retro. A pathetic ploy to remember the past as better than it actually was. It’s so easy to remember those years as too much synth and makeup, as bright lights and exposed skin. It’s just music. Music that said nothing and meant even less. Bass hates that. Hates that the same people who call modern music soulless praise this garbage because it’s old. Hates that they’re all listening to the same bubblegum bullshit, but from a different time. 

He doesn’t know why he cares. People have been touting their self importance since the dawn of time. He can imagine their prehistoric ancestors measuring their sticks to see whose was the biggest. Only now people care less for sticks and more for music that takes itself too seriously. That’s the issue, he guesses. Everyone cares too much. Wily cares too much about his image, Bass cares too much about everything, and Zero…

Bass doesn’t know what he cares about. Doesn’t really know the guy. At all. 

He reaches for the radio and switches to another station. Bass is immediately inundated with a different kind of garbage. Modern electronic music. At the sudden change, Zero speaks up for what must be the first time in over an hour. 

“I was listening to that.”

Bass rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t.”

They lapse into silence again as Bass switches through various stations. Some play pop, some rock, some are pure static. None of it is worth listening to. Bass didn’t think any of it would be, but at least playing with the radio gives him something to do. His phone died forever ago, leaving him with whatever he has on hand to entertain himself. His backpack is full of sentimental junk, nothing he can really use to distract himself. Treble is napping in the backseat and Bass doesn’t have the heart to wake him. So this car radio is all he has for company. Zero doesn’t count. He’s not company. 

Bass barely even knows the guy. Which is why he’s trying so hard to distract himself. If he thinks too hard he’ll remember that he’s riding with a stranger to a city he’s never seen before. The knob turns in his hand as he thinks, sliding between stations haphazardly. He’ll be in a new place, away from everything he’s ever known, living with someone he doesn’t know. Someone unpredictable. Sure, anyone that isn’t Wily is probably an improvement, but Bass is used to Wily. He knows how the old man thinks. Knows how he works, how to deal with him. Bass doesn’t know Zero, hasn’t for five years. Which makes the man unpredictable. Which makes Bass nervous. He fiddles with the knob just a bit faster, static breaking through the speakers.

“Forte-,”

“Bass. It’s Bass now.” He keeps his eyes trained on the car radio, watching the stations flicker by. “Has been for a while.”

Zero sighs, loudly. “Well Bass, pick something or turn it off.”

He lands on static. Bass is pretty sure he sees Zero’s eye twitch out of the corner of his eyes, but he chooses to ignore it. The satisfaction of annoying Zero lasts for only a minute. After that, he quickly realizes the consequences of his actions. There’s several hours between him and his destination. Several hours he’s going to have to suffer through with the sound of static accompanying all of it. How lovely. It’s times like these where Bass almost wishes he were someone else. Of course, that’s only when his difficult nature affects himself. Any other time and he’s perfectly happy being the most antagonistic person in existence.

People are stupid. People like Wily, like Zero, like his teachers and his peers. People that look at him and see only what they want to see. People that look at him and see Forte. See this teen with a bad attitude and dark clothes and assume that they know everything about him. Bass exists to defy those assumptions. He is not the expected, not the convenient. He’s loud, abrasive, aggressive. He’s everything Wily pretends he isn’t. He’s whatever’s going to infuriate Zero the most. He’s whatever pisses everyone off. A contrarian. A problem. Bass gets to control what everyone thinks of him. He gets to pick what he wants to be. Everyone else just has to deal with it or move on.

Most choose to move on. Even the most patient people in the world get sick of him eventually. The smart ones leave as soon as they can. As you can imagine, it leaves him on his own more often than not. That’s fine. Bass has been on his own for a while. He’s used to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Zero. This won’t be any different. A change of scenery won’t fix what’s wrong with him. Bass won’t change, won’t get better, won’t get worse. He’ll just continue on as he always has. Zero will get sick of him eventually. Send him back in a few months, throwing Wily’s mistakes in his face once again.

The thought isn’t as comforting as it should be. As nervous as he is about this move, the idea of returning home isn’t thrilling either. That house, that city hasn’t felt like home for a while. It used to. It used to be familiar and comforting. It used to be his. Now it feels like any other place. Those long halls, those labyrinthine streets, they don’t feel the same. Not since…

Wily certainly chose a convenient time to get sick of him. After everything, it figures the old man would cut him loose after he’s already been hanging from a string. He wonders, briefly, if that was exactly Wily chose to do this now. The old man never cared much for the company he kept, so why would he get rid of him after his old gang had left? Why wait until he had nothing to ship him off? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it was just convenience. That he was waiting for Zero to come home, that this was always the plan. Of course, that just leaves one unknown variable.

“Why…” Bass falters and hates himself for it. “Why are you doing this?”

Zero grips the steering wheel a little harder. “Doing what?”

“This! The move, the new house, the new school-, why? Why any of it? Why?”

Bass flails his arms in useless gesture. The man next to him huffs in what might be amusement, which makes only one of them. He slouches in his seat and turns away from the man. Pouting, he knows, but he figures he’s earned the right. His life is being upended by the only two people that still hold any power over him. Two people that don’t even know him, for all the years he’s lived with them. Wily and Zero never cared to learn anything about him, and Zero’s missed a third of his life. Bass was ten when Zero left, ten. A lot changes in five fucking years. And Zero doesn’t know the half of it.

“Didn’t he tell you what you’re dealing with? My record? My ‘attitude problem?’”

Zero stiffens a bit at that. Bass wouldn’t have gotten as far as he has if he didn’t know how to exploit a weak spot. He prods further.

“C’mon, how much do you know? I have to know what the old man said about me, which one of my greatest hits he told you.” Bass tugs on Zero’s jacket, jostling him a bit. “Was it that kid whose nose I broke? Or the one who got his older brother involved, who I destroyed by the way. What about the one who showed up with a bat-,”

“Bass.” His grip is harder now, jaw clenched as he stares dead ahead.

“What? I just want to know-,”

“Why are you proud of that? Of what you did to those kids? What-,” Zero takes a deep breath, barely keeping it together.

Bass rolls his eyes. “What’s wrong with me? A lot. I’m sure you can make a few guesses.”

“Do you enjoy hurting people? Is that fun for you?”

“I enjoy winning.” He pulls back his hand, crossing it over his chest. “I enjoy being better than all the idiots who see someone whose barely five feet and thinks that they can take him. I enjoy when everyone else is wrong. I enjoy making them admit it.”

“Well, you weren’t doing much of that when I came home! Your father said you weren’t doing anything. That you hid in your room all day. That you stopped leaving the house. That’s what he told me.”

Bass opens his mouth. Then shuts it. He honestly didn’t think the old man noticed. No, the truth is that he honestly didn’t think the old man cared. So what if he was in his room? It’s his room. It’s his house! He’s allowed to be there! The alternative was being somewhere else, doing something illegal. Most parents would be happy that Bass wasn’t doing any of that. That he was somewhere they could see, that they could keep him out of trouble. Actually, considering how fond Wily was of pretending his own son didn’t exist, this was almost textbook. Figures the old man would only care because he had to suffer his own son’s presence. Still…

“What do you care?”

Zero doesn’t answer him, not right away. Bass spares him a glance. He’s kinda like a monolith, in a way. He sits straight, arms stiff and limbs locked into place. He’s about a foot taller than Bass so he almost towers over him in his slouch. Zero has towered over him for a while. A monument to everything Bass is not. Zero is tall and lean, with smooth features and a pretty face. His skin is tan, his hair blonde and his eyes a vivid blue. He was a straight A student all throughout high school, at the top of his class, and he even got valedictorian. Not to mention the Ivy League school he went to, which he graduated a few months ago. With flying colors, of course. 

Bass is nothing like him. He’s short and awkward, his face round and features mean. Bass is a darker complexion, with black hair and dark eyes. What’s worse is that these features only look bad on him. If Zero had them, he’d look great. But Bass isn’t Zero. His grades are mediocre, his attendance record awful, and he’s never gotten anything more than a participation trophy. And, not to be redundant, but the record. Even if it’s being swept under the rug here, it still exists. Bass did everything he got in trouble for. Beat up every name in that file. He’s every counselor’s nightmare.

“I care because I don’t think you’re a bad kid.”

He blinks at that. “You’re insane.”

“I mean it, Bass.” Zero takes another breath. “Your father isn’t…a good person.”

“He’s a shithead, I know.”

“Yeah, he is. And having a father like that doesn’t make for a good environment to grow up in. It leads to…people like us.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We’re not normal, Bass. Normal people don’t beat people up for fun, they don’t have rampant anger issues, they don’t pick the farthest school from their family because the thought of living in that house makes them sick.”

That explains why Zero never visited. Bass kinda assumed he was too busy studying or whatever to bother, but it makes sense that avoiding Wily was his main motivation. Bass did the same thing, although he could never get as far away as Zero did. And he eventually had to come home. But every moment he spent away from Wily was one he savored. Even if he was just loitering or hanging out in empty parking lots. Anything to not have to be home. Bass remembers staying out for hours, far after sunset, just so he could be sure Wily was asleep.

Sometimes one of his friends would wait with him. Tengu’s presence was typical, seeing as he didn’t have any good reason to go home either. His parents weren’t ever around and Bass learned not to pry. He wasn’t good company, though. Bass kinda got the feeling he only stuck around because he felt like he had to. Burner sometimes stuck around too. Usually to get the smell out of his clothes, but sometimes he didn’t want to go home either. Bass didn’t like Burner, for a lot of reasons, but he could be nice when he wasn’t on something. 

His friends weren’t normal either. Bass knew that, instinctively, but that was why he hung around them. Because they knew what it was like to not be normal. To be ugly and awful, to be unforgivable to everyone else. They were so not normal that it made Bass feel normal. Like he wasn’t some freak of nature. Like it wasn’t his fault that he came out like this. That it just…happened. Like it did with all of his friends. 

Zero is the opposite. He’s a stark reminder of how messed up Bass is. Because if Zero ended up as perfect as he is, then Bass doesn’t really have an excuse. Bass just isn’t good enough. Someway, somehow, he is insufficient. Flawed. Imperfect. But hearing Zero say that he isn’t normal, that something wrong with him? It’s bittersweet. It doesn’t fix Bass, but it does make him feel better to know that Zero isn’t as high and mighty as he might seem. But again, that only explains part of what’s going on. Bass knows why Wily sent him away, knows why Zero wants to leave, but it still leaves one thing unanswered.

“That explains why you’re moving, but why the hell did you bring me along?

“Because getting away from that-,” Zero falters for a moment. “Getting away from our father was good for me. College was good for me. Getting to be around normal people with normal lives made me realize how fucked up ours was. It made me realize that things didn’t have to be like this. That we don’t have to be like this.”

Bass doesn’t say anything. He got what he wanted. Now he knows that this is some strange attempt to “fix” Bass. He’s not sure how Zero thinks he’s going to accomplish that, but he’s welcome to try. It’ll be entertaining to watch him fail for the first time. Well, second if you count what happened in Zero’s junior year, but Bass doesn’t. Zero did win, after all.

“You deserve a chance to have a normal childhood. With someone who hasn’t given up on you. I…want to give you that. I want to try. God knows someone has to.”

They fall into silence again. Bass doesn’t know what to say to that and Zero seems to have said all he had to. Now it’s just them and the open, empty road. There’s a part of Bass that’s hopeful, despite everything. That thinks maybe this can work. That he and Zero can play pretend. That Bass can survive for a little bit longer. But it’s only a small part. Every other part of him tells him not to hold his breath. Bass sighs and turns his attention to the window. The sky seems to be brightening, which means that morning isn’t too far off. He relaxes in his seat.

When he wakes up, he’ll be in a new city. When he wakes up, he’ll have to figure this out all over again. Bass closes his eyes and dreams of nothing.

[echantedtoon]

A Rock And A Hard Place Part 2 Douma

This is inspired by @melon-cream-enmu Demon Slayer- Program Au. (Warnings: Their blog does contain NSFW elements and themes that not everyone may like or be comfortable with. Just a heads up. But this WILL STAY Sfw.) I did ask if they were fine with someone writing drabbles inspired by their au before writing this, and they mentioned that they were fine. This is probably not gonna have a lot of chapters and it's from the perspective of a female reader.

B.P. Au- @melon-cream-enmu

Demon Slayer- Koyoharu Gotouge

Demon Designs for this done by @flanelltees linked below.

https://www.tumblr.com/flanelltees/694082545792450560/i-forgot-i-didnt-post-this-cuz-i-think-i-didnt?source=share

Mostly Akaza x Reader x Douma with some Rengoku x Reader.

Warnings: Douma IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos.)

"My answer is a big fat NO."

Footsteps followed you down the hallway. If you weren't weighed down by the giant cart of cleaning products and objects you used to clean up, you would've been booking it down the halls for your life as fast as this ridiculous rubber suit would let you. Unfortunately there was little you could do to escape the bluntly smiling woman following behind your squeaky cart.  You partially wished her long clean white lab coat got caught in one of the doorways and slowing her down enough for you to get away.

"Oh, I understand that you may have concerns about it! You'd be a part of an amazing break through in demonology history! There's still so much we don't know about them! You'd be a part of something extraordinary!"

"Oh! Well if that's the case let me change my answer." You shot her a scowl. "HELL NO!!"

Her expression didn't change but her eyelid twitched slightly. "But won't you reconsider? It'll mean so much to us."

"If you're so desperate for volunteers why don't YOU go play matchmaker with those things!? I'm not about to throw myself to the wolves hoping I won't get eaten!"

"That's a stereotype of demons! They don't actually eat human meat like popular belief." She sped up until she got in front of you and grabbed onto your cart forcing you to stop. "And I don't any any qualifications for the task that we're asking volunteers for."

"'Qualifications'?" You gave her a look of disbelief. "Do I look like I have any 'qualifications'? I'm not a scientist and I'm not a researcher!" You gestured to the rubber hazmat suit you wore. "I'm a dam janitor. If the floors dirty I go sweep it. If a toilets clogged I used a stupid plunger. If someone spills coffee again for the hundredth time, I always go clean it up! The only 'qualifications' I have is taking THIS-" You grabbed the mop hooked up to the side of your cart. "-and using bleach on the floor. I don't involve myself in things I don't have any business with!"

Shinobu inhaled slowly like she was holding back anger before she let go of the cart in defeat. "Fine. I can't force you and I can't change your mind." Glad she finally got that through her thick head. "If you don't want to volunteer for the program then I'll respect your choice on the matter, but I'd like to still give you an offer." You rose a deadpanned brow. "It's not a part of the program! If you could swing by the holding wing later tomorrow so we could see how the ice demon reacts to your presence, it'd be a good experiment."

"So you still want to use me as an experiment? Or is it bait? I can't decide which one I am at this point."

"Neither! You wouldn't even have to interact with the demon! All we want to do is see what happens when he senses you're around! Maybe we could figure out why he's acting like this and put a stop to it. You'd even be paid."

"....How much?"

"Three hundred to your next check!"

"...Forget it. I'm not going to be involved in this. Go find another woman to con."

Again the woman sighed but nodded and stepped aside finally. "Alright then. But if you should happen to change your mind, you'll know where to find us."

You said nothing as she walked away and you angrily pushed the cart away. Who did she think she was?! Using you like some guinea pig! Ha! No amount of money would make you agree to something like that!!...Then again. You slowly came to a stop.. It would be nice to have some extra money to help with the bills. It would sure make things easier and she mentioned you wouldn't have to do anything...

**************

"Don't say anything or else I'll change my mind and leave now!"

Because of your greed or because you were dumb, you had ended up showing up to the hiding wing of the facility. This time without the obnoxious rubber suit and just in your casual clothes not knowing what else to wear for this. When you shuffled in there was at least four people in labcoats. Two you recognized as Shinobu and Rengoku but the other two men you didn't. One wore a security suit and had short white hair with scars across what exposed skin there was and the other had what was essentially a nurse's scrubs and mask over his lower face. His hair was black with Mitch matched eyes.

"AH!! MISS Y/N!! SO GLAD TO SEE YOU CHANGED YOUR MIND!!," the loud red head shouted loudly making you and a few others wince at his loud volume. "You've arrived just in time to join the others!"

A hand reached up to rub your ear but paused when he spoke the next few words. "...Wait." you looked right at him wide eyed. "Others??"

He nodded. "Yes! You're not the only person who volunteered for the new program!" His body stepped aside allowing you to look down the hallway and you were surprised to find MANY more people in labcoats and a lot more people in those security suits standing in front of different windows looking into different cells. "There are others who also volunteered for the M.C.M.A.R.R. program! The staff and security are here to help monitor the interactions between the demons and volunteers!" He then looked back to your surprised face. "Which reminds me, you've probably never met the others before!" He gestured to the two men you never noticed before. "This is Sanemi, he's head of security at the facility and Obanai. He's mostly in charge of monitoring the health of our subjects here but he comes here on standby whenever there's interactions between them and our human volunteers."

"Uh..." You gave each man a look before nodding at them. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

The man named Sanemi hummed and looked you over before looking at Shinobu. "Are you sure this is a good idea? She's pretty vulnerable."

"She's not even going into the enclosure," Shinobu waved him off with a smile. "She's just here to see if the ice demon will come to the window as a trial run."

Rengoku nodded. "Indeed. It's up to her to decide if she wants to continue after a trial run! Any volunteer can quite at anytime!"

Sanemi sighed but shrugged his muscular shoulders. "Alright. Don't say that I didn't warn you."

You jumped as Rengoku slapped you friendly like on the back and beckoned you forward. "COME! I'll explain to you how this works!" You hesitantly allowed him to walk you down the hall you've cleaned multiple times. "Shinobu probably already explained what this program researches but allow me to elaborate. This program tests the multiple interactions between demons and other demons but also demons and humans."

"So...you also study demons interacting with each other? Not just humans?" 

"Precisely!!," he shouted, "We only use human volunteers with their absolute consent and they can quite anytime if they don't wish to be in the program for any reason anymore." That was good at least. "What we do is match you up to a specific demon we think you'll be able to make at least friendly interactions with. We start out with just watching from the other side of the window,  but we've been successful in having direct interactions later." He stopped in front of one large window. "Like this one there!"

You looked where he was pointing. There was another woman in a labcoat calmly writing on a clipboard and every so often looking up through the window into the cell. It took you a minute to take in what you saw. It was one of the cells that you weren't assigned to clean. You've never really paid much attention to it otherwise but it looked like a miniature library! There was stacks of books, a curtained bed, and a few other luxuries. In the smack middle of the room was two women. One was clearly not human with those slit pupil eyes, and the pointed ears. The one who was human was standing there and just watching as the other female demon made these strange almost cooing sounds and gesturing at a page of an open book in her hands.

"KANAE!!" You again jumped at the loud voice of Rengoku calling at the woman who only calmly turned her smile on him. "How goes the usual meeting?"

"Just fine," she replied back, "This is the second to last meeting they'll have before Red Eyes is released again."

"Red Eyes?"

"Yes. That's the nickname we gave to the demon. You see demons have their own culture and their own language. We...still haven't dephiered it so we give them nicknames to keep track of them. It's easier than saying Demon Number Fifty Four don't you think?" He gestured to the two ladies inside. "Red Eyes has been with us for a little over two years. The CEO decided he'll be released back next month to make way for different demons."

"You release them all?"

"It's all in accordance with the conservation federation. We capture but have to release after a while."

You gave another look in the cell and found the black haired wo-....MAN?! You blinked. "Wasn't that demon female just a minute ago?"

"Oh yes. That's why he's one of the more fascinating ones. You see he has the ability to switch genders at will." He then chuckled. "He seems awfully taken by Ms. Rei over there. She's the only one who he'll willingly interact with."

You gave another look inside the cell seeing the red eyed demon letting the human woman caress his face before Rengoku moved you along. Further down the hallway and towards the cell window you usually had encounters with.

"You see we've had a successful few interactions. Red Eyes and Rei are one of them. The dream demon with another. More recently we've been successful able to have interactions with a six eyed demon we've nicknamed Six and another volunteer named Haruhime. The one who we're going to try and interact with you is one we call the Ice Demon."

Your brows rose. "Ice demon?"

"Yes. We call him that because he can create structures of ice. He was found in the coldest parts in the mountains near a town. Apparently in those parts he used to be reveared as a deity of sorts. I thought it was just another old legend like unicorns until we accidentally came by him. It took the capture team a lot of darts to sedate him enough to bring in."

"And why do you think I'm good bait?'

He made a long 'eeehhhh' noise rolling his wrist. "Well...You see some demons are really picky when choosing who they interact with. Most of them absolutely refuse to even interact with the science team or any of the staff members. That's why we have volunteers come in. The demons seem more willing to interact with humans that they don't recognize as their captors."

Ah. That makes sense to why Shinobu kept insisting on you being the one that came here. "Ok. What does that have to do with me and this demon?"

"Like I said some demons are very picky on who they'll interact with. Ice Demon seems to particularly like interacting with female demons and lady staff members. The problem is that he's been trying to get out."

Your f/c widened. "Get out?!"

Rengoku nodded. "Yes. Besides Ice it seems our cold friend here has a charming effect to seduce the opposite gender. We did a little research on your first interaction with him. He noticed that you were a woman when you removed your hood while cleaning the old cell in front of his, but he couldn't get your attention until the second time you met. We think he was trying to hypnotize you into opening the door to his cell and letting him out." He looked right at you. "But you didn't fall for it."

"And that's surprising?"

"Yes! Because it seems that his charms don't work on stubborn women with a strong attitude like Shinobu and yourself!"

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or insult?"

"SEE?! You're perfect for this! Now then..." He stopped just in front of the cell you knew all too well finally letting go of you. "Let's see if he's in there." He left you standing on the side out of view as he looked down into the enclosure. There was a room large enough to be a ballroom with large chunks of snow and ice everywhere. "Hm. He seems to be keeping to himself today."

You also poked your head out raising a brow. "Maybe he's asle-"

B A M!!  

You shrieked out and jumped back along with Rengoku as something hard slammed against the glass making it vibrate against the frame but didn't break. You froze as you came face to face with a widely smiling mouth full of fangs and bright rainbow eyes. There was silence as others turned to you both and silence fell as everyone stared at the creature pressing its palms against the window. There was no movement for a stunned moment before the tall demon made a happy trill sound and pressed his cheek with no shame. Smooshing his face against the glass as if he could get closer to you. Behind him a long tail with a platinum blonde tuft of hair wagged behind him.hoho

"... Incredible!" You jumped whirling back to Rengoku who smiled brightly. "This is possibly the most upfront and open interaction yet!" He looked at your stunned face. "Quick! Do something!"

"What?!"

"Anything! Compliment him!"

You slowly looked at the demon who eerily stared unblinkingly and still pressed against the glass leaned over to be eye level with you. And gulped. Even safely on the other side of the glass he was a bit intimidating but..you still rose a brow. Could it even understand you? This was ridiculous!

"Um...You have beautiful eyes?"

SCCCCRREEEEEEEEEE-!!! 

You again jumped at the loud half screech half squeal the thing gaze before it grabbed its cheeks pulling away from the window giddily swaying back and forth. As if lovestruck before going back to the window again.

"Incredible. Speak to it more, Y/n!"

That's how it all began. Your first meeting consisted mostly of awkward talk as the thing just stared at you intensely until you felt uncomfortable enough and left as it followed you with it's gaze. Rengoku giddily thanked you as Shinobu happily looked over the notes she silently took the entire time she was there. You were invited back to the program same time next week and when your paycheck came in you found a whopping three hundred dollars added to your balance. 

That's how it started. For the money you kept going back once a week every Wednesday to o spend a few hours at the window either talking to the thing or letting it jabber on and on and ON in some kind of grunt, trill, chirp etc language you couldn't even understand. But he didn't even seem to notice or care about that fact. Other than your meetings, you didn't pay attention to him. Why would you? You were getting paid for the meetings, you weren't getting paid extra outside them. Which was hard to do when he walked in 'agony' and annoyed you whenever he senses you were nearby. You often thought about ending the meetings because he was annoying you so much but the extra three hundred dollars in your paycheck every week kept you coming back. But that was it. 

After around six months of this behavior Shinobu offered you a new deal. "You both seem to be getting along quite well. We were talking about it and we were wondering if you'd try an in person session with him."

"What?! No! I agreed to be on the safe side of the glass! How much money do you pay people to risk their lives like that?!"

"Three hundred dollars for a shielded session. A thousand dollars per in person session."

"......"

The metal doors opened before you. A breeze of absolutely chilling air washed over you through the cracks making you shiver. The heavy duty metal reinforced doors only opened enough to allow you to squeeze through to prevent the much larger demon from escaping. 

"Remember Y/n," Rengoku's voice sounded out through a speaker system attached into the cell. No doubt he was looking down through the window. "If you feel uncomfortable or in danger at any time or decided you had enough just wave at me with both arms. The security team will be right in there to retrieve you. Whatever you do, remain in a nonthreatening manner and remain calm. The goal is to avoid unnecessary aggression."

"Gee. Thanks." You mumbled under your breath.

You'd better be getting that thousand dollars for this crap. Slowly you looked through the crack..You didn't see anything. Slowly you poked your head inside and looked around. Still nothing. Your body squeezed through until you stood on the other side jumping as the door closed shut behind you. You were trapped inside here by yourself with a demon now. Great-

THUD!! 

You shrieked as something large landed behind you and two arms wrapped around your body pulling you up and into a burly chest. You continued to squeal out as the thing held you close to him. After a moment a lovestruck chittering entered your ears as you froze up. Rengoku watched as you were cuddled like a teddy bear by the demon before it plopped itself down and you sat in his lap.

"Y/n! Give us a thumbs up if you're alright!"

You were stunned by the coldness of the area and body against you but managed to give the window a thumbs up. "I'm fine." You pushed at the body. "Put me down!"

The thing only chuckled and nuzzled his nose into your hair.

"Hey, hey, hey!" You reached around as best as you could reach out to push at it. "Cut that out you freak!"

It made a cooing noise but held up his arms allowing you to scramble from him and stand. You turned to glare at him but he only giggled again and laid his head in his hands. 

"Geez. Clingy much?" 

It nodded yes at you....

It nodded...yes...at you...

You pointed at it looking at the window. "That thing just said yes to me!"

"Good. Communication is key."

"You're not helping!!" You whirled around back to the grinning thing. Jeebus. Even sitting down you could tell he was huge! He must've been six or seven feet tall with an obviously muscular build and you didn't like how pointy those fangs and claws were. Or the intense state he was giving you. This thing could rip you apart in a second... You had a problem with accepting money. "... You're not gonna try and eat me are you?" A head shake no. "That's good at least."

You shifted uncomfortably staring at him before looking around the cell. Ice sculptures were everywhere and in different shapes. A boat. Table and chair. A few random nicknacks. And a dancing ballerina mid pose. Did he make all these? Snow crunched under your feet leaving foot prints everywhere he stepped. He seemed to take notice cuz he thrummed gaining your attention and held out his hands.

You stared at him. "Uh..What are you doing?"

He chuckled at you. Holding up his hands turning them over showing they were empty before clapping them together. After a moment he slowly pried them apart and showing something in his palms. A little bitty bitty ice swan was nestled in his hands and he held it up to you. 

"...Oh. Is that for me?" He nodded. You still stared before slowly reaching out and picking it up from his hands. You looked over the little bird. It was like a glass figure only made of very cold ice. "Oh. It's very pretty. Thank you."

It trilled in happiness again clapping in approval you accepted it.

"Thanks...But can I ask you why you've been bothering me so much?" It tilted it's head. "Why are you so interested in bugging me I mean."

It stared at you more before again seductively posing where he sat with one hand pressed against his chest.

You deadpanned. "....Man. just..Just don't. I don't think that's gonna work on me."

He then perked up at you and pointed.

"....Oh. so you already figured out that part?" It nodded again.

"I think it's trying to say it's interested in you being not interested in him!"

"Gee. Thanks, Rengoku. You really help here."

"Just trying my best!"

The meeting persisted for another twenty minutes before you decided you couldn't take the cold anymore and waved both hands at the window. Rengoku nodded and a moment later the metal doors opened a crack again with a few security guys on the other side. You decided to leave the ice swan on the ice table knowing that it'd probably melt once you went out of the cell and left. The thing got up and followed you stopping a few yards from the door and watching you disappear again. You were more happy that you could get warm again. Rengoku considered it a success and offered you again to come back for more in person sessions.... Your wallet really got stuffed over the course of the next three months.

You would continue your meetings, and have one on one sessions with the demon which usually only lasted about an hour with how could it was inside the cell and the demon would gift you small ice sculptures which you always left on the table with the others because they would melt outside of the room. Sometimes he even sculpted the giant ones in front of you watching you watch in awe. Other times he insisted on holding you much to your dismay and laughed watching you struggle. But he always let you go once you gave Rengoku or Shinobu the signal to leave. O R particular day he wrote letters in the snow spelling out something.

"Douma?"

He squealed out in delight clutching his cheeks hearing you say that.

"Is that your name?"

He nodded. The scientists were also thrilled about seeing you on name based. 

"This is fantastic!" Rengoku cheered as you huddled in the jacket you brought with you. "It's revealed it's name to you! That means you earnt it's trust!" Your head throbbed from his loud voice and you hissed. You've been dealing with a headache all day. "You're getting along rather well!"

"Keep it down..my head hurts."

"Ah. My apologies for that. But this is truly thrilling!" He stepped in front of a certain cell where you were trying to relieve your head and a pair of golden irises narrowed at the flame haired man. "Are you feeling alright? Obanai has some pain reliever in his kit for whenever Shinobu needs it. I can get you one if you want?"

You didn't even get to reply. Something ran at the window. The frame shook and Rengoku jumped as a ferocious pink haired demon SLAMMED it's shoulder into the window not breaking it but sure as heck rattling it. Large fangs snarled as it hissed raged at the other man. Both stared at one another. For Rengoku this wasn't an odd occurrence. This thing often tried to threaten hi-

BAM!! 

Angrily, you whirled around. Balled up fist slamming into the glass catching the demon on the other side of guard as you stared at him dead in the eyes with such anger.

"SHUT!! UP!!" 

The pink haired demon froze stunned at the tiny female yelling at him before you turned away to cradle your throbbing headache mumbling to yourself and walking away. Leaving behind the stunned men...until the pink haired demon blinked and turned his head watching as you left.. before his ears perked up and head tilted in interest.

[anonymous-chicken-was-taken]

Klavier's Emergency Contact

This is just a little drabble to partner with Klavier Makes Four; I felt it was too distant from the main story to make another chapter, and too connected and short to make a separate story. Plus, I didn't originally intend to write this, but got inspired to do so.

If you haven't read Klavier Makes Four, you don't have to to make sense of this story, but I recommend it, as it would probably make more sense.

_______________________________

Kristoph looked up from his book at the sound of footsteps. Usually, he would not have been surprised that they stopped at his cell. However, the three guards were ones he had never seen before carrying out the more... legally dubious actions regarding his incarceration. More interesting yet was the ancient cell phone held in one of their hands.

"Kristoph Gavin," said one of them. "You have a phone call."

That was interesting. He had stopped getting phone calls after his second incarceration.

"I see," said Kristoph, standing up. "Get on with it, then."

One of the guards unlocked his cell as the other two eyed him suspiciously. It was needless. He had no intention of using this as an escape opportunity. He was far more interested in who was calling him. Legally as far as he could tell, no less.

Soon enough, the phone was in his hand.

"Is this Mr. Kristoph Gavin?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"It is. I apologize for the hoops you no doubt needed to jump through to communicate with me. To whom am I speaking?"

"Una Gnowyn. I'm calling from Central Hospital on behalf of Klavier Gavin," said the voice on the other end of the line. Kristoph pulled the phone away from his face slightly and blinked. That had not been what he expected.

"Even in spite of my death row seat?" he asked, tilting his head. "Does he have no other emergency contact?"

"You're the only one, Mr. Gavin. Your brother was brought in an hour ago with acute atroquinine poisoning. We need to ask you a few questions concerning his medical history."

A smile threatened to slip onto Kristoph's face. Atroquinine poisoning. After six years, Klavier had finally worn the damned ring. If only it had been just a few months prior; perfection would have been in his grasp. At least it was some small comfort that he was still the only emergency contact his brother had, despite everything. He would have no one waiting at his bedside for his eyes to open.

"Fire away," said Kristoph, keeping his voice serene.

The doctor, or nurse, or receptionist, or whatever Ms. Gnowyn was, asked several questions about allergies and previous complications. Kristoph answered all of her questions to the best of his knowledge. He could have come up with lies to hinder Klavier's chance of survival, but really, what was the point?

What the doctors knew was inconsequential. They were dealing with a doomed patient either way.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Gavin," Ms. Gnowyn said.

"It was no trouble," said Kristoph. "It's not as though I am preoccupied. Goodbye."

The phone clicked. Slowly, he let his arm sink. With a winning smile at the guards, he handed the phone back. They left, locking the cell door behind them. They disappeared around the corner, like they had never been there in the first place.

Kristoph sank back into his chair, picked up his book again, and chuckled to himself.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

in ur asks once again...

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

HI LEANNE HI LEANNE SORRY I'M LATE BUT I'M HEREEEEEEEEE <3 thanks for putting the questiosn btw this made this hella easier. i should do that more...

🥺 - Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

mmmmm of course I have to bring up arguments but I suppose one that alwayssss gets me is like. a new sense of Understanding that is conveyed just by a Look. 1941-saving-the-books coded, if you will. there's a lot of moments in my fics where a character does something for another or expresses a new emotion that they haven't really before, and the other character's world view has just Shifted. you don't know how it's shifted or even how much, but it's Changed, and that's all that matters. the most recent time this has happened in a fic is for the trans omens bang (just finished the fic btw, now I just have to post it--[really hoping for august 2nd to begin my Schedule but we'll see]) where it happens twice; aziraphale realizing what crowley used the holy water he gave him for (killing ligur) and crowley realizing that aziraphale has never been able to truly express himself* because of heaven's image; that being 'being an angel means that you have to be pure and Never Indulge In Anything, Absolutely Anything, Because Why Would You Do That?'. kinda like with food. so it's not heaven being transphobic so much as it is "why would you dress like that if u don't have to, why are you even thinking about that in the first place do ur job buddy just accept what's been given to you 🤨". still a trans allegory tho. it's kinda hard to explain where you just have to read the fic to grasp it (the message) fully because its just a fun piece about trans things. THE POINT is that 1941-coded realization are AWESOME!!!!

*I personally don't believe that aziraphale has NEVER experimented with gender throughout history, but he's closeted in this au for the sake of the plot. this is not my headcanon but it's soooo fun to project <3

😅 - What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

mmmmmm I have to check but God a few that I remember is the one nimona (2023) fic I wrote that's an unnecessary angst-fest and also that one fic that's basically 'aziraphale rejects crowley so many fucking times' and it makes me cringe because it makes me sad in the bad way. also that one fic about body switch where they decide to execute 'aziraphale' and 'crowley' together in heaven. which I would do SO differently now oh my God, first of all WHY HEAVEN (I would do it in a separate third location now, probably in like. the fields of meggido. and have hell set up bleachers for the demons to watch like they did canonically. for the plot. also the symbolism). and second of all i was still getting the hang of Crowley And Aziraphale Silent Communication and the way I conveyed it in this fic is just CRINGE. full out CRINGE. I wish I could delete it but it's one of my more kudosed fics and I can't get rid of that shit. tbh any fic before i started using beta readers (began with like chapter 5 of stars in a jar au) is Bad and I wanna rewrite them so bad but then i'd be plagued forever. I only plan on rewriting the fics that are secretly a part of the said stars in a jar au (which is 2, I plan to add them to the series when those instances are mentioned in the main fic) as well as midnight's call AGAIN when I inevitably get back to writing its sequel ACTUALLY USING A BETA READER THIS TIME. idk if i'll ever write more long term gravity falls fic after I finish that sequel (except for drabbles here or there and that one gravity falls crossover i'm obligated to finish) but I refuse to let that universe rest until i've fulfilled its potential. I swear to god

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

autggh i already did this one but another thing i can say is worried crowley. i've been i'm good at writing him Worried And/Or Anxious because well he is me and i am him. side eyes latest fic

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

HGRHHHHHH THERE'S EIGHT RN which one do i do....i can't stop blabbing about fairytale au but since i'm currently watching a video essay on the costa concordia (by internet historian. god it's good storytelling) i'll talk about the titanic. i'm doing a titanic (1997) fic for the silver screen bang,,, i think i've definitely detailed it before but i'll do it again. heart of the ocean? CURSED. hell sends crowley on the titanic to fucking find that thang, and aziraphale tags along because he too has an assignment from heaven but it's just quick blessings (wonder why...). there's iconic scenes such as paint me like one of your french girls (ily artist ariraphale) and 'im; flying' but it's a DANCE instead. fucking hell i'm melting just thinking about it. i love the themes i love chapter 2 i love chapter 5 i love you anathema's ancestor who's also here i LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU here's a raw snippet,,,

France, Aziraphale knows well, is famous for producing the best of its rich, savory crepes. And, being a simple angel, when he had heard about their momentary stop in Cherbourg to load up more passengers, decided to give into the urges and risk a quick stop at his favorite restaurant and have a brief crepe break. It was worth it in every way possible—Crowley could explore their cabin on his own, and Aziraphale got crepes. Everyone wins!

alright that's enough blabbing. thank you for this wonderful opportunity,,, im now watching a video about a man in a hole. i love video essays

[themetaphorgirl]

Okay a Hotch whump drabble idea just bc the latest one has inspired me, I don’t know if Sean would visit again after that whole adoption fiasco but maybe there’s a phone-call or something (a situation where Sean basically rejects Aaron completely) and he’s in his room and Alex checks on him and he gets to the point where he says ‘why does nobody want me’, unbeknownst to them Spencer’s been eavesdropping and he crashes into the room like ‘I WANT YOU!’ And then Alex and Spencer comforting Aaron (maybe when Aaron is asleep Spencer can say something like ‘nobody wanted me either until I came here and you guys found me, but we found Aaron too! Why doesn’t he know it yet?’)

oof my whole heart

this actually ties really well into the 18k word backstory oneshot I wrote with Aaron (but haven’t posted yet) and the Spencer backstory oneshot I’m currently working on.

(and it ties perfectly into the last chapter of Patron Saint. which should be getting updated on Thursday!)

———

“Alex, you’ve got to talk to him.”

She blinked in confusion. “Who am I talking to?” she asked as she opened the cover of anther return.

Derek glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “Hotch,” he said in a low voice. “He’s been in a shitty mood all day and it’s only getting worse.”

Alex frowned. “I haven’t seen talked to him since lunch,” she said. She glanced around Derek from her vantage point at the circulation desk; she could see Hotch sitting on the couch with the rest of the group, his textbooks still closed as he tapped at his phone. “Do you think he’s sick again?”

“I don’t think so,” Derek said. “Not this time.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I think he’s sad about something, but it’s coming out angry.”

Alex bit her lip. “I’ll talk to him,” she promised. “Spencer’s doing okay though, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, little man is playing with Penny’s Nintendo,” Derek said.

“And doing badly?”

“Oh, it’s horrible. I didn’t know it was possible to fuck up Animal Crossing that bad.”

Alex laughed. “Let me make some headway on these returns and then I’ll come check on him,” she said. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Derek nodded and headed back to the group. Alex picked up another book. The sophomores had just finished their research papers for history class, which meant they all returned their sources at the same time.

A notification lit up on her phone; she paused to pick it up and check it. She didn’t use social media that often but the other kids sure did, and Emily had tagged her in half a dozen memes on Facebook.

Absently she scrolled through her feed, and then froze.

Aaron Hotchner was tagged in a comment.

It didn’t make sense, Hotch used social media less than any of them. But she stared at the photo and the caption and the comments with growing horror.

We welcomed our sweet boy into our home three years ago, but today it’s official! This morning the judge signed the papers and Sean is officially a Eubanks. While the circumstances surrounding his adoption are tragic, and we will always miss my sister Elizabeth, I know that adopting her baby boy as our own is exactly what she would have wanted. Mommy and Daddy love you so much, Seanie!

Hotch’s younger brother grinned in the photograph with their aunt and uncle on either side of him, posed in front of the judge. At least a hundred people had liked the picture, and dozens of comments congratulated the new family. Someone had commented “too bad Aaron couldn’t be there!” with his name highlighted in the tag, but his aunt hadn’t replied.

Alex dropped her phone in her pocket and left the desk, abandoning the books. “You,” she said, startling Hotch enough that his phone slipped from his hand.

“Why?” he asked, glaring up at her.

“Because I said so. Come here.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the couch. Alex took him by the sleeve, dragged him into her office, and closed the door. “Are you okay?” she demanded.

“Why would I not be okay?” he asked.

“Because you-“

“I’m not sick,” he said flatly. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“But I saw-“

“I’m really not in the mood for you to fucking mother me to death, so if you don’t mind, I have homework to do,” he snapped as he turned towards the door.

“Aaron!” she said. “I saw.“

He froze, his back to her.

She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “I saw,” she said again. “I saw the photo, and the caption, and everybody saying congratulations.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He was quiet for so long that she worried he hasn’t heard her.

“They didn’t even let me there,” he said in a small voice. “I knew they were going to…but I thought…I thought they’d at least invite me.”

Alex stepped behind him in and slipped her fingers around his wrist. “I know,” she said softly.

“They changed his name,” he said. “Not that…not that I even wanted this name, but we don’t even have the same last name anymore.” Alex stroked the soft skin of his inner wrist. “He already called them mom and dad but…this is different. This is permanent.”

She could feel his pulse picking up, and when she tugged him to turn around he didn’t fight her. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Aaron rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “God, I don’t know why I’m so upset,” he said, a wet laugh breaking from his throat. “It makes sense. He doesn’t remember Mama, what he remembers of Dad is that he’s a piece of shit. They might as well adopt him.”

His eyes were red-rimmed and welling up. Alex squeezed his hand. “You’re allowed to be upset,” she said.

“It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why didn’t they take me too?” he burst out. He dragged his hand over his face. “God, it’s so fucking stupid. I don’t even like them, I don’t want to be adopted, I’d fucking kill to have my mom back, but…why didn’t they take me too?”

Alex didn’t know how to answer. She held his hand in both of hers, smoothing her fingertips over his knuckles.

“And now Sean’s got a new family, and he needs me even less than he did before,” Aaron said bitterly. “God, why doesn’t…why doesn’t anyone ever want me?”

“I want you.”

Spencer peeked around the door, hazel eyes huge in his pale little face. Aaron’s shoulders hitched. “Yeah?” he said, his voice thick.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, still half hidden in the doorway as if he was afraid he’d said the wrong thing, and Aaron choked on a sob and held out his arms. Spencer closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Aaron scooped him up in the tightest hug possible.

Alex kept one hand on Aaron’s back and the other on Spencer’s arm, trying to make sure that both of them were okay. She let Aaron cry quietly for a while, until she could feel his shaking start to subside.

At long last Aaron set Spencer carefully down on his feet. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes downcast and his face red and puffy from crying.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she said. She squeezed his arm. “Do you feel a little better?”

He nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I’m…I’m going to go wash my face,” he said. “You’re not going to tell the others about-“

“Not a word to anyone about anything,” she promised. She pulled him into a gentle hug and kissed his cheek. “But come talk to me when you need me, okay, Bubba?”

He sort of smiled at her. “Okay,” he said, and he slipped out of the room.

Spencer wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and leaned against her. “Is be okay?” he asked quietly.

She brushed his curls back and kissed the top of his head. “He will be, baby, he just needs a little time,” she said.

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said, snuggling his cheek against her hip.

“Don’t get what, baby?”

“Nobody wanted me either until I got here,” he said. “But I figured out that you guys wanted me. Why hasn’t Hotch figured it out yet?”

Alex sighed heavily. “I think you were still hoping you could find a family,” she said. “But I think Hotch gave up a long time ago, and he still needs more convincing that he has us.”

[greenerteacups]

Fic Masterpost

Oh, boy. Okay. Here we go.

I have written literally hundreds of thousands of words of fic, and this is where you can find it! Consider this a kind of annotated bibliography.

Harry Potter

Lionheart

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger | 300,000 words and counting

How Draco Malfoy met a girl on a train, ruined his life, started a war, and ended one.

Notes: Oh, honey. This is my baby. The longest fic I've ever written, the currently running one, and the one I'm most fond of. A Gryffindor!Draco AU that retraces all 7 books. Slowburn Dramione (SLOW, slow burn, a simmer, currently more like a suntanning) with Golden Quartet vibes. I pre-write all the books and then release them in weekly updates, kinda like a serial publication, so you always know when your next hit is coming!

Volume I, "Green and Golden," composed of Years 1-3, finished early in 2023. It's currently releasing Volume II, "Son and Heir," which just finished the first act of Year 4.

/

The Climb

Harry Potter, Severus Snape & Harry Potter | 22,000 words

"...in the event that I, Lily Evans Potter, and my husband, James Potter, become deceased," read Albus, "I do hereby name Severus Snape as sole legal custodian of my son, Harry James Potter, until such a time as he comes of age." He folded his glasses on the table. "Fuck," said Severus, with feeling.

Notes: An unexpected brainworm that I had while compiling a Severus playlist for Lionheart, which rapidly spiraled out of control. It's a "Severus raises Harry" fic, which I never had a taste for until I started writing this — I realized there was so much more juice in the narrative idea than I'd realized. I like how I use voice and style here; I think I made a real leap in technique between SWHTWW and this one.

//

Other

the scenes which hold the waking world

Six of Crows, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey/Wylan van Eck | 70,000 words

Thirty million dollars for a secret. That's the payout for Kaz Brekker, the most dangerous, ruthless, and talented extractor in the dream industry — if he can manage it. But to have a chance, he needs the best. That means finding a team willing to attempt the impossible: a knife-wielding cat burglar, a college dropout with perfect aim, a sullen ex-Navy SEAL, a drop-dead gorgeous former Soviet spy, and the estranged son of their rich employer. If they can avoid killing each other, they'll go down in history. If they can't, none of them may wake up again.

Notes: This was my first novel-length fic, and I'll always have a soft spot for it. It's an Inception AU with the vibes of Leverage meets Ocean's 11, with a side of psychological trouble and codependency. Read if you like spy movies, heist stories, or dangerous criminals whose Achilles heel is being unable to stop talking shit to each other.

/

someday we'll linger in the sun

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Namor of Talokan/Shuri | 40,000 words

As the legends have it, after she earned the blessings of Bast, the Princess Shuri took a god for a lover. The legends say less about what happened in between.

Notes: Another drabble that spiraled wildly out of control. (You may notice a theme.) I watched Black Panther over Christmas break and thought, "Wow, that's an incredible storyline that didn't actually happen, wish someone would write it." Technically unfinished, but I think the existing chapters serve as a complete story. Unfortunately, no plans to come back to this one; I might mark it as finished at some point, because it feels settled to me.

/

it's a western, henry

Dimension20: Fantasy High, Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster | 10,000 words

Nobody fantasizes about kissing goblins in the moonlight, or taking them out on ice cream dates after class. Especially not beautiful half-elves on the bloodrush team, who could have anybody they wanted (and probably do). It's the beginning of a bad joke. A goblin and a half-elf walk into a tower... And the goblin ends up slain on the floor while the half-elf walks out with the princess.

Notes: My first fic, which started as a writing exercise. A character study in fantasy race relations and a love story between a nerd and a jock in which the jock is the anxious one. Working title for a while was "it's not easy being green," before I found the fancy Siken line. I still think there's some good humor in here, and I like rereading it from time to time.

[broomsticks]

self-celebration!

turning @danpuff-ao3's beautiful self-celebration post into a tag game bc i can.

everything i've done so far this month bc my memory does not extend beyond that:

finished a fest fic -- horrifically challenging thing that i'm still not satisfied with, but oh well. it's finished! and it's submitted!

wrote a bunch of drabbles for frankenfest february! challenged myself in fun ways, successfully met some and copped out of some and i'm proud of myself for both!

put together a smut workshop for femslash february for @/hpsaffics discord

kept on top of reblogging femslash february creations on @/hpsaffics tumblr!

so many reclists! especially proud of the transfem reclist and the butch positivity reclist and the random ginny/infidelity one hahaha

kept up regular chapter comments for power the dark lord knows not. 20+ weeks!!! v. proud of myself for that one

bringing that momentum into regular chapter comments for another multichapter fic! let's see how long i can keep this up!

betaing!

wolfstar fandom survey results statsing

mutuals march 👀

lots of fandom history miscellany! trying to remember to organize/summarize as i go or i will forget it all in 0.3 seconds

listened to lots of friends' podcasts! hate to jinx this but i think i might be getting back into a listening to podcasts mood. what will it be next? reading real life books? fingers crossed! we'll see!

handled some IRL interactions i did Not want to but which went better than feared expected! won't be having to do those for a while!

survived two work presentations! saying yes to some things -- saying no to others -- quietly working on some additional optional things i'm hoping will pay off later!

acing a work course actually

i think the amount of paperwork i had to handle last month especially (hate it. die.) deserves its own shoutout

adventures in cooking/ food-related adventures! hahahah. third time partner and i have attempted to make risotto and every time i'm still amazed it's edible. :D

@billsfangearring @squidgilator @tahtahfornow @femme--de--lettres @allalrightagain @mkaugust @lunapwrites @turanga4 @crazybutgood @lumosatnight @thistlecatfics @wanderingdonut

+ ANYONE who sees this and wants to play!! open tag <3

accomplishments? what have you all been up to, both in and especially out of fandom? BRAG! AWAY! PLEASE! tag me please :D

[liroyalty]

It's the giggling of ladies maids that filled the chambers of the Crown Princess. A smile worthy of competing with the shine of the sun, reflected back in the mirror at her, which a bustling of maids tending to Ann's needs & attire more closely then ever today. The birthday of Camellia's heiress was no small matter, a day everyone looked forward to celebrating, & Ann herself was little different. A day, just for herself, it was what she needed when she gives every other day of her life to the wellbeing of her beloved kingdom.

Her light mint dress had been cleaned the day before, as too was her nails painted on the day prior. Her hair had the last of her curls being pressed, while pink flower clips were carefully places on either side of her head along her braids & a small rose gold & diamond tiara was upon the front of it. Floral earrings dangled low & a rose gold floral necklace rested already on her person, with a single mint diamond ring on her left fore finger & mint diamond bracelet on her right wrist. Makeup for her eyes & lips on her dresser sat on standby, while her shoes too sat on the floor near by for when her look was complete. She looked already so much as her people liked to call her, their beautiful flower princess.

"This isn't... too much, right?"

"Of course not, your royal highness! You look beautiful!" Wendy, of course, was only there to encourage. Very easily transfixed by the beauty of the Crown Princess. "Goddesses of Beauty themselves would be envious!" Aside from that it was Ann's birthday, she was allowed to be as flashy as she wishes.

"Come, we are almost done! And we can not have the birthday princess late for her own ball!"

[ghostiegirl56]

Genshin Multifandom Drabble/Rant

Ok I know I mentioned having twisted x obey me chapter 2 done but I had another idea for a mixed fandom fic.

Blame my amazing persuasive skills to convince my friend to play genshin and then her wanting to talk about lore while co-oping.

Kinda spoilers for genshin. Like not really just for a few voice lines and which twin is Canon. (Khaenria'h gets mentioned twice so eh)

I'll be referring to Canon (aether as protag and lumine as abyss

So like Aether hasn't been able to find Lumine for 500 years (talk about giving it a boy look). But what if it's because different worlds keep summoning him and when he gets put back he just keeps getting disorientated.

Like he's searching dragonspine for Lumine, gets summoned to another game/anime and then he's plopped back into schneznya. Doesn't help that lumine's hiding in the abyss.

This has the opportunity for nearly 500 different fandoms and Aether's stuck with them for maybe a few months or heck even a year.

And even more potential for a prequel of the twins visiting each place before arriving in teyvat.

Anyway back to the how of Aether being yoinked, say when first travelling through the other worlds Aether (being the doormat he is) left maybe an artifact that can temporarily bring (the assigned twin) to the other world for like a year and then saying like

"if you ever need help again don't hesitate to call".

And when you consider that not every world they travelled to probably had magic. Those artifacts would never get used and instead be like a family heirloom because A:

Every family has some sort of crazy heirloom that you have to question if it's cursed.

And B:

If two people with magic descended from the sky that's God and you don't (theoretically) call them lightly.

But also at least Aether canonically has all his power sealed and the way visions work mean their use is limited to teyvat (visions need elemental energy and the specific formula for elemental energy is likely only found in teyvat). If Aether's statue powers work the same...

He's just some regular dude who got summoned probably because of someone's desperation. Like the world could be ending and this almighty being that has seen the birth and death of stars (which is surprisingly canon) who descended hundreds of years ago is now a magicless, crop top wearing twink (affectionately) who needs his sister to tell the Macca's employee he asked for no pickles.

I imagine in some worlds they've accidentally started a whole religion around them (more reasons for Celestia to be haters).

This could also apply to Lumine and that's why she spends so much time in the abyss, to make up the time she lost on her summons. Since 1 teyvat day is 1 abyss month (if I remember correctly).

Also if I had a twin and they disappeared on me for 500 after I slept for long enough that (twin in question) pissed of a higher being that sent literal gods to destroy the place. The next time I see them it's a fucking tackle hug them for abandoning me and cause I'd miss them.

The fact Aether is so chill and somehow sane about this implies either A:

He has no capacity to be upset (proven wrong by the chasm quest)

Or B:

This has happened before.

Which lead onto a new headcanon of Lumine and Aether travelling worlds and they'll just randomly fight like

"Noooo it's my turn to overthrow the gods"

"Nuh uh you defeated my evil organisation so I didn't get my full turn"

Soooo after all my ranting basically. Aether or Lumine getting dragged to worlds only to be plopped back in teyvat after their summoning artifact runs out of time.

Obey Me The exchange program

So back to the multifandom part. Imagine that a twin (I'll use Aether as my example) is selected for the human world exchange program due to probably being known for magic in ancient human history books. Then one of two things vould happen.

Barbatos succeeds in summoning Aether because its Barbatos.

or 2

new backstory for a brother of choice, having been given a summoning artifact at somepoint and coming in clutch to summon Aether. Which creates a nice little reunion

and part .5 Paimon can come with and be surprised about archons sharing names with the demons.

If its option 1 I can imagine Aether learning about how much of a dick the brothers father is. Then going like

"Where his he? He needs to know that wasn't right"

(Aether is tired alright pretend its exam season)

Lucifer: "We fought him and lost what makes you so sure you can" Aether: "I've done it before. . ?"

Even if it wasn't specifically Obey me's god. Like it could be and this is how the brothers find out Aether is potentially older than them. Also Aether could totally tell them all these stories about gods he's fought and that its a common thing in each world for someone to fight god.

idk I think that could reasure the brothers.

[rosesandalfazemas]

2, 5, 7, 12

Hello Anon!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Well I've just finished an EngPort fic! Fortunately a mutual is helping me with english translation, so I hope to publish it in here complete! And about I would like to, I'm waiting for @elysean to start a really nice UkArg proyect. But this year I want to exapand more my supernatural headcanons I have about nation tans.

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

If you're talking about a character I'm writing now, it's Portugal for sure. In my whole history would be Ayar, an OC I've presented here who was an Alfred's mortal lover. (Mortal until he gave Ayar his Spring, but that is a tale for another day...).

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I write long stories. Period. Drabbles and oneshots are torture for me, because I have to condense one scene or two and to explain everything I want to write about headcanons, personalities, feelings and enviroments. If it is about supernatural stuff, worse. My longest fanfic ever it has 5 volumes and 32 chapters holding all Latin Hetalia's countries and islands. It was called El Hilo Rojo. So yeah, I tend to write a lot.

English (and you with your amazing requests) are helping me to be more precise, so I want to took a little advantange and to learn about that this year.

12. Do you want your writing to be famous?

As a goal, not really. I consider myself a hobbist. I am a journalist and a professional mass media's researcher / got a PhD in Communication, so I've written a lot in my whole life, with different kind of tools and techniques. I've got an academic writing, in a way. Fanfictions are my relaxing moment. I'm concious I use my formation and experience (and my selfdemaning behaviour) in there, and I think I'm good enough to be read, but not much more to be famous or popular (I never was popular on anything XD).

Nevertheless, publishing a book is a personal goal this year, so I'm going to took an original story of my OC from Saint Seiya fandom and, hopefully, to turn it into a book!

Thanks for your curiosity, Anon!

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Treatises and Truths (page 54)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/WegKtF1

by I_did_not_mean_to

This is a treat for Art Number 2 .

Eh, I famously don't like kids and so...have fun with another kind of writing (pseudo-scientific) while we're at 2,5 hours until reveals...

Lots of love from me!

Words: 275, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 54 of 2022 Scribbles & Drabbles Madness

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Baby - Character, smart scribe

Additional Tags: Treat, how to deal with children, A page torn out of an old book, Erestor has thrown it out, because it was a dumb book

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/WegKtF1

[wwilloww]

fic recs: series

This is a very short list of some of my favorite series on this blue hellsite. In no way is it comprehensive, and if you have any suggestions for series to read, please send me an ask! I'm always excited for something new, especially from new authors.

Writing engaging and good series is one of the hardest things to manage. Y'all are basically writing full-on books, and sharing them with us, chapter by chapter. These series have stolen my heart and I hope you like them as much as I do! If you read any of these fics, please take a moment to congratulate the author, or show some appreciation. Enjoy!

@kpopfanfictrash’s Blackjack One of the first long series I read on this site and still one of my favorites. The character development is prime, pristine, and absolutely engaging.

@honeymoonjin’s The Gentlemen I can never say enough about this series. This is one of the stories that was so fucking good that it inspired me to start writing. This series does an incredible job of representing healthy but complicated relationships, and I just love it. Please read.

@luffles424’s Into the Woods Series I am dying for more of this series. Faery OT7 plus the most gorgeous smut ever plus true-to-folklore worldbuilding - I love this with my whole heart.

@jjungkookislife’s Let Me Hold Them Okay this is one of the first fics I ever read, even before joining the writerly community and one of the things that encouraged me to join. Truly such wonderful, specific characterizations. And sooo indulgent to fall into a world where all of the members are tripping over themselves to fuck the reader. A decadent treat to read.

@hobidreams’s Moonlight Throne Drabble series that holds a whole world of character, desire, and complications. The historial part of this is so gracefully done, but the whole thing? absolutely adore.

@xjoonchildx’s airplane, pt. 2 This fic reads like a movie. I kind of want it to be a movie. The character development, the unfolding of their relationship, the absolute dramatic tension of the storyline? Chefs kiss.

@xjoonchildx’s Kanalia The tension here can be cut by a knife. Absolutely beautiful writing, incredible character work, amazing pacing. I want to fall into this world. A beautiful piece of fantasy.

@joopiterjoon’s Hooked I’ve been knocked off my rocker, rolled across the floor, have fallen in love with a whole cast of characters, and also been asked to encounter my own bullshit. Which, if I do say myself, is quite an impressive checklist for a fic to accomplish.

@underthejoon’s piece by piece I read this in one sitting. This fic is Art. The structure. The language. The story line. Each section is a window into the swirling growth of the character’s hearts and relationships. And yet, despite the brevity (or maybe because of the brevity) each chapter weighs the world in the reader’s mind. Each action is significant.

@madseok’s What the Water Gave Us I LOVE THIS CONCEPT. I think this series has so much potential for humor and chemistry and i’m really excited to see where it goes.

@reliablemitten's Second Heart This story has the perfect mix of fantasy and reality, pining and resolution. This is one of those that is going to sit so fucking close to my heart for so long, and the way Mittens writes Joon is absolutely divine.

*NEW* @reliablemitten's Substance Gonna say it again: the way Mittens writes Namjoon is divine. She understands something about him in a way I can't put words to. It feels like looking into another reality, rather than fiction. Also the tension? The smut? Impeccable.

*NEW* @hesperantha's Teardrop If you want the perfect example of banter, this is it. Two friends go on a roadtrip and there's a LOT of sexual tension. I love the voice in this, the snarkiness, the emerging vulnerability. This feels like a really important story.

🌱 fic recs masterlist

[sopejinsunflower]

Part 10

a/n 1: starting on a little bit of mc's background before we go on to more heated stuff

Warning: 18±

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

A few years ago, I had decided to put my all into my writing.

I have been writing on and off since ten years old, heavily influenced by the Harry Potter series and then, a little bit of Cecelia Ahern mix of fantasies and romance. Her book, A Place Called Here, had left such a big impression on me that I wish so much to be able to create something of similar value. And then I learnt about Jodi Picoult, how she paints vividly the turmoils of laws and life and illness, be it psychological or physical. I wanted to write to move people like she had moved me. When I grew out of romance genres, mystery and science fiction, sprinkled in with a bit of history, got under my skin, consuming them up like I was hungry for more words to build the world of stories in my head.

Reading is one thing, but writing is a whole different adventure altogether, most of them ending in dead ends and blocks. I would get an idea and fixate on it, putting in long hours writing chapters upon chapters. And then the idea would fizzle out, replaced with something that had piqued my interest somewhere along the way and I would jump on that one, abandoning the previous characters I had taken time to build. It was a vicious cycle I could never break out of. The only way to finish was to keep things short; one shot stories that would begin and end on the same day. I was good at that, better than the long novels I yearn to create. One was made into a short film in university, among friends who love the film world but lack an original creator. Another was spun into a radio drama, to which I had directed and produced myself for an assignment. They were short so they were fun. But they weren’t what I wanted.

As a diver, this is my best and worst attribute as a writer. I would plunge into a story head first, diving in deep to unravel my characters and spin my story, creating smooth flows and then bursts of undertows that could either take my readers away on an adventure or drown them in my characters’ world. There’s a certain pull to these kinds of stories, a certain kind of interest that hooks you in and carries you away as you explore the sporadic events, discovering layers upon layers of the heroes or villains. But the flaw is too big. Sometimes when you plunge into a story you have no idea the depth of, you’d just…drown. And if the writer doesn’t survive to tell the tale, the story dies along with her. That was the case with all the stories I have ever written, only a folder in my laptop that marked their graves, their final resting place.

As an assistant English teacher, I had a lot of spare time on my hands. To make myself look busy, I write. I started with drabbles, stories I wasn’t much invested in, ready to toss them off once I lose interest. But somehow, it kept going. It kept going up to ten chapters and then eleven and twelve and by the time it reached chapter twenty I was in between panic and excitement, pressured to finish but wondering what I would find at the end of the road when the story is finished. It’s almost like reading a book for the first time, only that the book isn’t quite there yet. Feeling a little confident I could reach that finishing line this time, I decided to post the stories online, the way I used to do way back when. I posted once a week to bide time but as my readers grew, the excitement grew with it. It’s funny how the pressure to finish suddenly changes into motivation when people appreciate your work.

I threw myself into it, doubling my posting to twice a week and, on some special occasions, a special filler chapter just to amuse my readers with extra information on certain characters or certain events or behind the scene things that happened to non-main characters but could have some sort of connection to the main stories. They loved it. They gobbled up each word I put out, always wanting more. My reputation expanded, the pseudonym I use as an online writer is mentioned almost weekly on social media. I was an anonymous celebrity in some ways, like Clark Kent was when he’s Superman, or Bruce Wayne when he’s zooming about in his batmobile. Nobody knows the real them but people know the masks they put on - or shall I say cape? It was even stranger when friends talked about my stories to me as I pretended I had never heard of it or, in some cases, pretended to debate and argued on theories surrounding the stories.

By the end of the year, I had finally finished the story, but was only halfway through posting them. I was ecstatic, giddily happy out of my mind as I thought about my first ever finished work but unable to share it with anybody. I liked being anonymous, and loved the fact that people talked about me without knowing it’s me. Then the call came. It started out as an email, very official looking, claiming that they, a company, is very much interested in my story and would I be open to discuss a proposal they have. I ignored it. I received multiple emails like that, mostly scams, mostly just people who wanted to buy off my story and publish it as their own, like those influencers who released books written by ghostwriters. I refuse. This is my first novel, my baby. No way I’m giving it up.

The call had come when I was at work. The phone number was an unrecognised one so I had ignored it, pushed to the back of my mind, not even bothered to call back. Driving home was when the number called again and I had stared at it for a good three seconds, debating whether or not to answer, before finally, sliding the touch button to the right.

“Hello?” I had said cautiously, ready to disconnect the call if it was another one of those telemarketer things. That or an insurance company trying to convince you that if you die, your family will be well taken care of, like it’s a good thing that I died. But the voice on the other end had been a serious one, all business-like and with an accent that told me the caller isn’t a native speaker, confirming my name and asking if it was a good time to talk. I told them I was driving but that they’re on loudspeaker. They asked if I was with someone to which I said no, the alarm bells ringing in the distance. “Who is this?” I had asked with a little more force than I intended.

“I’m Ginny Han, calling from Kaya Publishing House,” replied the voice, a little tinny through the line. “If you have time, I’d like to schedule a meeting with you. Would the coming weekend work?”

“Wait, hold up,” I said, reeling from the information given. “A publishing house? I don’t get it. A meeting for what?”

“I’d like to talk to you about your book,” came the reply, clipped and a little cold like she was growing impatient. “I mean, your e-book? The stories you’ve been posting online? You are the writer of Seven Petals, correct?”

“How did you get my number?” I asked incredulously. I provided an email, yes, but no other contact details.

Ginny Han huffed. “Look, I’d like to talk to you face to face. I think it’ll be better. Save up your questions for then.” She then continued to give me a time and place to meet up.

That weekend I could finally put a face to her straight-laced voice and the stark contrast had taken me aback. I had been expecting a middle-aged looking lady in crisp dark business suit and glasses with pinned up hair but the girl that stood up and waved at me when I entered the bustling cafe was the total opposite. She looked more like someone fresh out of college in ripped skinny jeans and a white top, a hot pink blazer thrown on top. She had these huge square glasses on her small face and her dark hair had streaks of silver in it. A pair of worn out combat boots completed her look. It took me a while to wrap my head around the impression I got from Ginny Han on the phone and the reality of the girl sitting in front of me drinking a can of Coke with her breakfast.

The meeting took over two hours with Ginny mostly the one speaking (at the end of the meeting I found out her name was actually Jin-hee). She sounded different too from on the phone, her voice higher and more animated, her hands flying everywhere as she talked. She explained that she was actually hired by a third party to contact me, a huge company that wanted to turn my stories into a drama series or a movie, whichever I think is best. I had asked if that was a cruel joke but Ginny had slammed her fist onto the table and said she thought so too at first but then pulled out an email to show to me. The email had HIVE stamped across the header and signed by someone called Choi Seo-jun to which Ginny commented it sounded generic. She agreed that the email looked fishy but the address was a real one and it was worth checking out. I had laughed, noting that the address had been in Seoul, South Korea but she only looked at me dead on and said the tickets were already bought.

I had flown to Seoul with so much skepticism I was surprised the plane could still fly. But we arrived and a taxi was already waiting to take us to the address. When the car pulled up in front of the huge square block we had both stared openmouthed; not that we weren’t aware of the destination but more that we couldn’t believe we were here. I had never been more self-conscious in my life as I walked up the stairs to the front entrance and towards the lobby where the concierge told us to go up to the tenth floor after giving us our access lanyards with our faces on it. The elevator required one of those key cards and a security escorted us up. Another security took over on the tenth floor, walking us over to a meeting room where three people were already waiting, shuffling through some papers. My mind was reeling, going through the motions as if on autopilot.

One of the three had introduced himself as the director of the team and the one who sent the email to Ginny, explaining that HIVE is actually a sub agency, and that yes, his name is actually Choi Seo-jun. He went on to explain the whole detail: HIVE proposing to buy the rights to the stories to produce it into a movie or drama series and offering a generous amount of ten percent of the budget. Ginny’s eyebrows had gone up so high I thought they might just blend into her hair. I, on the other hand, had no clue what that even meant. I let Ginny do the talking, barely even listening, and for some weird reason, suddenly became aware that there were some famous people in this building! It was all I could focus on until Ginny nudged me with her elbow and asked, “Well, would you like to?”

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, come again? Would I like to what?”

“Come on board the team as the screenwriter,” explained Mr Choi before Ginny could even start. “You can choose between selling the rights to the whole book and walking off with the money, never questioning the direction we take with it or you could take the money and be a part of the production, if you want.”

He spoke English but my mind wasn’t comprehending. I turned to Ginny with a blank stare. She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to work on the production of your story or not?”

I said yes and the ball had been set into motion. I ended up having to stay in Seoul for a week, going back and forth to HYBE to talk more details on the production. We decided a drama series would be best but when I asked which broadcasting channel they were going with, they wouldn’t tell. Not yet, they said, but most definitely not on main TV. That was odd, I felt but with a lot of major streaming sites nowadays, it wasn’t surprising. By the end of the week, I had signed two NDAs and a two-year contract with HIVE as their exclusive writer. We worked out the basic details of the production in that first week and they had given me a fully furnished apartment of my own. I had put in my resignation to my school, and after failing to convince me to come back, they had relented. I started working on the screenplay by the second week and by the end of the month, the talk of casting finally came up.

We were in a bigger meeting room, with more people involved now. I had sat quite up front, Ginny next to me but our tables had been rearranged sideways, the front of the room to our left. Across from us was a row of empty seats. Mr Choi was addressing the room when he suddenly turned to me and asked who I think would be best to play the seven main characters. I shrugged and asked them for their list. He smiled and turned to the door and said, “Come on in.”

I was busy writing notes when Ginny was frantically poking me. I turned with a scowl ready to reprimand her when the people who walked in caught my attention. The only way I could explain the feeling is like reading about your favourite characters and then suddenly seeing them alive and real and right in front of your eyes ambling towards the empty chairs across from you, thinking to yourself holy fuck they do exist. Because of course they do, they’re real life humans, aren’t they? Even if your eyes might try to deceive you, making you believe that no, they can’t be when they look so ethereal and so beautiful even in their everyday casuals. Even when their relaxed hair fell into their eyes, three out of seven with caps or hats on, two with sliders or slip-ons. For a writer, I had no words.

Mr Choi, with all the casualness in the world, gestured to the group and said, “Well, this is the list we have. Let me know what you think.”

I couldn’t think. Or maybe I was thinking too much, different thoughts flying across my mind a mile a minute, a mixture of panic and excitement and anxiety and confusion and a whole lot of others. Ginny, though, looked like she knew all along and was looking at me for my reaction. She leaned in and whispered, “Act natural.” My brain had clicked then, though my hands were still trembling, I turned to Mr Choi with a shaky smile and said, my voice cracking at the end, “I think it’s good.”

That had been the first time I officially met the boys, sitting across from me with polite smiles and nods and Jin joking if they should audition with some lines. Jin who had sat next to Namjoon, body posture relaxed, his legs extended under the table and crossed at the ankle, smiling and winking at me just to laugh when I turned red. And Yoongi. Yoongi who sat right at the end of the line, next to Jungkook, eyes half covered by the beanie he wore, mostly silent but reacting appropriately at all the right times with nods or a chuckle. And me, sitting there with probably a dumb look on my face, barely listening anymore to whoever was speaking throughout the meeting, the page of my notebook for that day a complete blank except the half-finished sentence of “possible cast li” at the top, the i a long scrawled line that crossed two lines from when Ginny had been poking me.

By the second meeting with BTS present was when I finally had the courage to look them in the eyes and say my piece, offering explanations here and there. Namjoon did most of the talking, his questions telling me that he actually read my stories, deep and complicated. When I thought he had been the only one, Yoongi was the next to mention a few lines or events in the story that piqued his interest and wanted more clarification on certain characters. Taehyung and Jin were more concerned with costumes, their ideas totally contrary to each other’s. The rest admitted to only starting to read, Hoseok a bit further ahead than the other two. But I had been overjoyed nevertheless.

It was surreal, the feeling of sitting in front of the people you admire and look up to (and fantasise about) and talking about your work. There were moments during meeting breaks when we had all walked to the cafeteria or the office pantry together, chatting like long time friends and sitting at the same table like I wasn’t an outsider. They were genuinely nice people, making sure I felt comfortable, listening intently when I spoke, asking the right questions or giving the right acknowledgement. Questions about the story punctuated with bits and pieces of information about me; where I was from, why I write, my favourite books and authors, was this my first time in Seoul, am I enjoying it. It was strange when the table was flipped like that, but it was nice. But never had I ever imagined how things would change, so much so that sometimes it makes me wonder if everything had been planned since the very beginning.

*~*

The only sound I could hear is our combined heavy breathing and the only thing I could smell aside from our scents mixing in the air is the sweat dripping slowly down the sides of our faces, our backs, the crooks of our collarbones as our limbs tangled together in the safety of the nest. It almost feels like one of those sensual scenes you see in movies where everything is in slow motion, the lights dim with a tint of red as we maneuver over and under each other, trying to touch as much skin as possible.

Standing on our knees, the bed dipping from our weight, all I can focus on is how burning hot Yoongi’s big hands are on my waist as we lock our lips together, me turning to the side as he presses his front to my back. I feel Jin’s plush lips trailing down my neck, no longer sure if the wetness I feel is from the sweat or from his tongue. His hair is pushed back and slightly ruffled from where my hands had been just minutes ago before I had turned to focus on Yoongi, my hands clasp around his neck as I bare my chest for Jin’s assault. I mewl as Jin’s big hands cup my breasts, trailing kisses down my ribcage. I let out another sigh when I feel the coolness of his tongue on my left nipple, swirling in lazy circles, teasing and taunting, before he catches it in between his teeth, his tongue working intensely and almost a little mean.

As Jin leaves wet kisses from my right nipple to my left, latching his lips on like it was his mission, Yoongi’s hand slips under the band of my panties. He lingers around my pubic mound, twirling his fingers in the short hair and tugging slightly. He uses one knee to spread my legs apart, giving him easy access to run his fingers through my folds earning a muffled moan from my mouth that goes straight onto his tongue. My thighs shake and Yoongi tightens the one hand grip he still has, his nails digging into my side. With his middle finger, Yoongi presses on my throbbing clit as he uses his forefinger and ring finger to spread me open.

“Do you want to show Jin-hyung how pretty you are down there?” says Yoongi in my ears as he disconnects our lips with a loud pop. “Hmm?”

I feel Jin’s hands on the inside of my thighs, his kisses peppering down my stomach. A low growl emits from Jin’s chest at the mention of his name and he nips the skin there. Yoongi moves to give attention to my neck, removing his hands from between my legs to knead on my breasts, the slick on his fingers as lube to stimulate my nipples again. Jin pushes my panties down as low as it can go, blowing cool air at the exposed skin. “My pretty little girl,” he croons as he kisses the inside of my thigh. There is a bit of shuffling as Jin repositions himself laying down on the mattress in between my knees, then, with his hands on my thighs, coaxes my legs to inch wider, wide enough so that my centre of gravity is lower and he can reach my dripping core with his tongue.

I moan, bucking my hips at the contact but Jin’s hands keep me in place. Yoongi moves to straddle the older member, cupping my face and keeping my mouth busy. The moment Jin locks his lips on my core, the logical part of me, the one that’s fading in the background, is thankful that the noise I make is enveloped by Yoongi’s mouth. My whole body shakes when Jin’s skillful tongue traces through my folds, collecting the juice. His tongue swirls once, twice then once more over my swollen bud before he plays over my entrance. Desperate for more, I push against it, the soft wetness entering just deep enough to feel its presence. He starts to tongue-fuck me, hands holding me in place, keeping me steady so he can do his work.

“Jin,” I moan breathlessly, head thrown back, hands on Yoongi’s back as he makes himself busy with my breasts, kneading and licking. “Yoongi.”

“That’s a good girl,” Yoongi replies in between licks and kisses. “Such a good girl for us. I can’t wait to have you on my tongue, too.”

Jin says something, too, but muffled, the vibration of his voice sending delicious shudders through me. With a little push, he manages to keep me up just a few centimetres, readjusting his target of attack. The first few swipes of his tongue on my clit resulted in a copious amount of wetness to stain the lower half of Jin’s face, but he doesn’t pay it any attention, flicking his tongue relentlessly on my clitoris. I’m half screaming from the pleasure, calling out his name like a mantra, moving my hips along chasing orgasm. He senses that I’m close and he stops. I whine in frustration.

Yoongi, taking the cue from his elder, carefully and gently guides me down to lay on top of him as Jin gets up from his place. I’m barely focusing, obediently letting them take care of me, trusting that they know what they are doing. Yoongi’s eyes are barely human, pools of darkness filled with lust and want and need but he is patient enough to let Jin do what they agreed on doing, something that was unspoken in front of me but seemed to have been in motion the moment Yoongi stepped in my room earlier. I feel Jin settle behind me, his hands warm on my hips. He drags one finger through my pulsating cunt, back and forth, running over my clit before inserting the finger deep into me all the way down until the whole finger is in. I clench around him, whining and moaning for more. He inserts one more finger, slowly stroking it in and out as he stretches me out.

My whole body is burning, sweat sticking to me like a second skin, our scent mixing together in the air. My omega is screaming, yearning for more, needing more, her arousal making the betas heady and dizzy, worried that the alphas might break down the door anytime now. But they haven’t, most probably because of Namjoon but they don’t know this for sure, not right now anyway. Right now their major concern is to try to contain the omega’s heat as much as they can, unsure if the plan will even work. But they had to try, for the sake of the pack. Plan C can come in later.

As Jin moves his fingers in and out, he leans over to my ear. “That’s it, little one. You’re taking my fingers so well. Maybe I’ll reward you with something even bigger. What do you think?”

I buck my hips into Jin, feeling something hard rubbing against my thigh and moaning incoherently as my mind tries to piece together words to tell him that yes, I’m being such a good girl now, I should be rewarded. But all that comes out of my mouth is their names and Jin chuckles darkly. He pecks a kiss on my back and, in a low and rough voice, he says, “Why don’t you take care of Yoongi, too, huh? Use that pretty little mouth of yours.” I mewl in agreement, moving south of the younger man to focus on the bulge straining against his sweatpants. I press my mouth over the cotton material and Yoongi lets out a groan. With one swipe, he pushes the pants off of him, letting his member spring loose, leaking precum already.

I purr, happy to be of service as I take him in my hand. He hisses at the touch but watches me through narrowed eyes. I lick my lips, stroking his cock lazily before bringing the tip to my mouth. I lick the slit, tasting his precum before using it to spread over the head, sucking a little. Yoongi places his hands to the back of my head and lightly pushes down. I follow his guide, doing my best to take most of his cock into my mouth. I manage to go two thirds of the way, hollowing my cheeks around his girth, using my tongue to run along the length of it. Yoongi curses through his teeth, head thrown back.

Behind me, Jin has removed his fingers from my folds and as I focus on Yoongi, I wonder what he is doing, as all I feel is the one hand on my hip. It takes a while when he comes back, only this time not with his fingers but with something stiffer, meatier; my reward. I hum in excitement as I feel the head of his cock teasing my entrance and my omega lets out another wave of pheromones. I wiggle my hips impatiently, mouth still stuffed full with Yoongi, waiting for Jin to plunge in. He takes his time, pushing in an inch at a time and once the head is in, he stays put, letting me get used to his size. Once I am, he pushes in another inch and waits again as I clench and unclench around him.

I moan again, wanting to feel full of him, wanting him to stretch me open and mold me to the shape of him but he doesn’t. He is patient, biding his time. But I am not, as I push back against his cock, feeling it slide easily deep into my pussy. I moan against Yoongi’s dick as Jin lets out a strained hiss. Finally, my omega gets what she has been dying for.

Next part: here

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

a/n 2: let me know what you think of this chapter! Obviously, the names and additional organization/agency are made up for the sake of the story.

Taglist (open):

@mayla548 @just-me-and-myselfs @l7bangtan @juju-227592 @singukieee @kawaiikpoplover268 @ot7nem @beeeee06 @feedthefandoms995 @rapunzel76 @colourlyhobbit @jinscharms @cestlabellemort @purplepupbish