#Go live in the walls with Atlas damn it.

[theredrogue]

Faith may be in your walls but I'm standing on your table informing you doctors used to treat "hysteria" by a "pelvic finger massage"

Stop speaking.

In general.

Please.

[mercurygray]

i would like to request miss cordelia + 13 from the nosebleedclub list if you don't mind!!

This was a really good one, Kind Anonymous Friend! I had this idea for Bucky and Cord and decided I think it's just going to stand on its own for now.

Fair warning: It's a little spicy.

13. the state of your heart.

She could see the flares well enough from the tower as they came in, wings shot to pieces, engines smoking, red flare after red flare, wounded aboard, wounded aboard, wounded aboard.

Captain Brennan's girls would have their work cut out for them today.

It was easy enough to kick around outside the Interrogation hut, waiting outside for news but really only waiting for Bucky. Brennan had said once that she could come, if she liked, but Interrogation seemed like a door she could not - should not - cross behind. That room was where the day dwelt, and where it was supposed to stay. One by one they all emerged, grim angels still in need of comfort, and behind them all came Bucky, somehow taller and grimmer than them all, shoulders set against it like he was supposed to carry the whole war by himself.

Cord took a deep breath, tried to smile. Come on, then, Atlas - carry me instead.

There was a slash on his cheek from something that might have been shrapnel, and ragged edges on his face from where his mask had cut into his face. Doc Stover would probably want him in the infirmary, but he wouldn't go - not until he'd finished other business first.

"C'mere," he said, making a grab for her hand, one arm full of his kit bag and the other full of her, unafraid of anything.

The packing sheds were deserted at this time of day, the crews already done with the equipment from today's run, tomorrow's crew not due to start for hours yet. Plenty of walls that would hide them now and tell no tales after.

No sooner had the door shut then he had dropped his bag and pressed her up against the wall, lips hard and insistent on her own, his sheepskin seeming to enfold the both of them inside it, his hips grinding up against her own. His body was doing the speaking his tongue no longer had words for, and she left her own words aside, too, to let his hands fill with her hips, the curve of her pants, the swell, underneath her own jacket, of breast and brassiere. She could feel him getting hard against his flight suit, and he stepped to the side, his feet bracketing her own, so that he could rub himself against her, mumbling pleasure into her mouth until he could take no more, and fell back a little, panting, and looked down at her with expectant, sad eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach. She tried to smile back and brushed a curl off his face. She always wanted to ask how it had been, but it was useless - he was only like this when it was worse than he wanted to say. If he wanted to lose himself in something, she would let it be her. At least then she would know where he was.

She kissed his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and laid his hand back on her left breast, letting him squeeze for a moment, and the two of them stood together, breathing, returning. You are alive, and I am alive, and we are alive here now together.

Finally he spoke, quieter now, his heart less fierce. "Hey, gorgeous."

She smiled. "Hello, handsome." She traced the wound on his face. "You should go see the doc."

He tried to shrug it off, hands slipping down to her waist, thumbs stroking at her hips. "Wanted to take my other medicine first," he murmured. "Look at the state of us," he said, half-guilty and bashful, like he didn't know what he'd done, or how he'd done it. Her shirt was wrinkled and her tie was all wrong, and his flight suit was a damn mess. "You ought to stop me."

Stop you why? The question pulsed in her throat like a live coal. How can I care about that when there's the state of your heart?

-

if you like Cord here, you can read more of her here on tumblr in her tag.

[asexualgilliontidestrider]

Could you imagine the hero discourse in the prime defenders universe. There’s some Reddit post that’s like

r/askreddit

what was a negative interaction you had with a hero in your life

I’m curious because I see so many people talking like they’re purely good and I personally have seen them do pretty mean stuff

“when I was in the 6th grade silhouette was a TA on a school trip with my class and i told him that I needed the bathroom and he just told me to piss my pants and then ignored me and then when we actually got to the museum he just ditched us and left ms Gilbert to try and handle the entire class alone so I think that says a lot about what kind of person he really is”

“Tide once completely flooded my car that was parked on a bridge while fighting a villain and it had pictures of my grandma who died in a box on my passenger seat and they were ruined and I’m kinda still not over that”

“Pretender once walked straight into me and then just shoved me away and started shouting about how I should have moved if I was real”

“Well since the whole deal where random heroes have been going crazy I think you’re going to get a lot of bad experiences”

“Atlas killed my brother when he snapped that one time”

“This kid hero DC and his group got me fired from work because they literally stood in the middle of the road to harass some villain in a car instead of letting the cops deal with it. I was an hour late because they had to get someone to tow the car and it was totalled when they put it down because one of his friends had this freaky third demon arm thing that crushed it”

“Oh god yeah that kid. Watched him and his buddies dump some dude’s body in a lake. Then when my neighbour tried to stop them they made a call and then did something to him that messed him up for days. He doesn’t even remember it happening shits scary bro”

“Oh damn you live in rockfall too? Those kids are fucking menaces. The purple hair elf kid once just started stealing shit from the store I work at. Like he tried to put a bucket on my head and then in clear view crouched and started taking shit off the shelves and putting it in his bag. Security had to stop him and then he got picked up by Tide later.”

“Dodgeboy called me and my girlfriend a slur once :( I know he was super old but that’s still messed up”

“Saw a red haired hero kid punch out a wall of the dodge boy memorial library once when I was walking home from my night shift. As I was walking away I saw him and his friends harassing some kid with their powers and it kind of pissed me off with heroes in general. Like this is how the next generation of our protectors are being raised? God.”

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

ATLA

illustrate the remnants of the life i used to live by WitchofEndor

Zuko's soul marks have been regularly burned away since before he knew what they meant. He knows that he cannot be loyal to his father and his nation while also being loyal to a soul family, so he doesn't look for them. Unfortunately, that means that he doesn't know when he's found them.

Stranger things

Shovel Talks by unkreativstermensch (+ podfic)

"Oh,” Steve says. Then again, “oh,” a little quieter. His expression changes; from confusion to something pained almost. “Mr Munson, I don’t…” he takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he continues. “I don’t think he…I don’t think he likes me like that.”

He doesn’t say “it’s not like that.” Neither does he say “I’m not like that.”

That’s the first thing Wayne notices.

or: Wayne decides to give Steve the shovel talk, only to realize he might not be the one needing one

Peaceful Bliss by unkreativstermensch

"Henderson,” Eddie groans. “Do you have any idea what time it is?" He rubs his hands over his face. Dustin nods.

"Of course, it’s 6:15, but we need to talk, it's really urgent, I noticed something about the-" he stops in his tracks when he notices the patch of hair next to Eddie, sticking out from under the covers and in between pillows, and the way Eddie winces because Dustin's talking too loud, and oh shit- there's someone else in bed with him.

or: Dustin has the annoying habit of just busting into Eddie's trailer at ungodly hours. One morning Eddie's not alone though.

SVSSS

Protagonist Rehabilitation Programme by cinnamonsnaps

(oh my god they were roommates)

"Thank you, valued user, for accepting the Protagonist Rehabilitation Programme. Your task: Ensure the protagonist's happiness."

Shen Yuan is convinced that his favouri... least favourite novel's main protagonist isn't really happy. He has babes, money and power, but does he have any friends? Cue the system handily dropping Demon King Luo Binghe into his bedroom. Can Shen Yuan make him happy before the timer runs out?

(90% light-hearted comedy, 10% existential horror and fear because this is the OG PIDW Binghe we're talking about)

Shadowhunters

Families of Choice by MonPetitTresor

Life at the Institute takes a turn for the worse for Alec. When he's alone with no where else to turn, his siblings step up and help him find his feet once more with help from a few new friends along the way. Between them, Alec finally gets a chance to realize that the world doesn't begin and end with being a Shadowhunter, and there's more out there for him, so long as he's got the courage to reach out and grab it.

Salvation lets their wings unfold by HopeSilverheart

Alec is frozen and, when she spots what has him looking so horrified, so is Clary.

Above the fireplace, hanging on the wall like some sort of divine offering, rest a pair of huge, black angel wings, so similar to Alec’s own. The mere sight makes him want to throw up and curl his wings around himself to make sure all his feathers are still in place. He can’t even begin to imagine life without the pair of extra limbs every Nephilim has to deal with. To be faced with the reminder that some people want nothing more than to tear those wings off his back is…

“What the fuck, Alec?” Clary whispers, her voice choked up and angry and alarmed. “Alec, what is this?”

Or: Alec, Clary and Magnus go on a mission to a warlock's home. What they find there leaves its mark on both shadowhunters.

Star Wars

listen, there's a hell of a universe next door by storm_petrel

As it turns out, no one ever taught Luke how to tie a little green baby to his back one-handed, but Luke thinks he's pretty gods-damned good at problem-solving under pressure, thank you, and the baby is at least semi-cooperative. When he's sure the kid is strapped in as tight as he can get, Luke pauses, and reaches back. His fingers graze the wide point of the baby's fuzzy ear. "Well, kid," says Luke, and his voice is a little rough, but not bad, all things considered. "Carrying you on my back while getting the absolute banthashit kicked out of me, at least this feels familiar."

The baby coos in his ear, and then kicks him hard in the kidney. Yoda used to do the exact same thing. Somehow, it's a lot more endearing now.

Or: Luke Skywalker solves a number of life-or-death problems, makes some new friends, falls abruptly in love, and gets shot into space, all in the same day.

Clone Wars

No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold by themonopolyhat

"New orders.” Cody hands the data pad over, and Waxer takes a minute to absorb the screen contents.

“Are we—” He stops, his voice hushed with something like awe. “Do we get to hit Dooku's... the kriff do the natties call it...” He snaps his fingers and points at Wooley for some reason. “Vacation home. Are we gonna burn down Dooku's vacation home?"

Or: Six weeks after Obi-Wan's funeral, the 212th reunites with their general.

[pikapeppa]

15 questions for 15 friends

Tagged by @elveny and @johaerys-writes -- thank you, my loves!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My mom. Apparently my dad really wanted to name me after my mom and she was like "ugh really fine" LOL. My dad is also named after his dad, who was named after his dad... REAL ORIGINAL. This is going to sound like a total humblebrag, but my mom and I are both published academic authors, so we have to use our middle initials to distinguish who published what 🙃

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably in therapy last Thursday LOL. Though I got a little prickly-eyed earlier this week watching the episode of ATLA where Zuko and Aang go on their lifechanging field trip to the Sun Warriors' secret village 😂❤

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nope! Childless by choice.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I played T-ball when I was 5 or 6 (hated it, cried so much that my parents pulled me out LMAO) and I was on the volleyball team in Grade 6. I'm left-handed and I had a habit of serving into the wall, unfortunately, and the habit got worse when I was nervous. During one game, they took pity on me so much that they paused the game until I got the ball over the net. I was fucking humiliated and have never played a team sport since then. 🤣💀 Re: other physical activities, I like dancing! I've taken a ton of different kinds of dance classes including swing, salsa, bellydancing, and Bollywood dancing, and loved all of them!

DO YOU USE SARCASM? No. Me? Never. 🙃🤣 Forreal though yes. All the time.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Uh...! I don't know if there's any one specific thing? I usually take in an "overall impression" of appearance. Vague, but that's all I've got. If the question was "what's the first thing you notice in people you're attracted to", that might be a different story 🤣

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR? Brown.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I am going to copy Johaerys's answer and say it doesn't matter to me, as long as the story was good. But also, who says scary movies/horror media can't have happy endings?? 🤣Haunting of Hill House, anyone? (Bittersweet, maybe, but it counts as happy to me!)

ANY TALENTS? Would it be wretched if I said I feel like writing might be a talent? Whatever, I'm saying it. 🤣😅

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? In a hospital in the same city where I currently live! Which I will chose not to reveal openly! 🤣

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? Writing! It takes up a solid 75-90% of my free time. Also gaming (which I might count into the writing time since it often becomes Research™ for the writing 🤣). I also enjoy baking and cooking, though I don't know that I'd count those as hobbies since they're necessary ADLs?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? A cat named Meeko. She is my daemon. We can never be apart when I am home. Case in point, a photo taken in real-time while completing this quiz:

HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5'3".

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? Uhhh... what level of school are we talking here? In undergrad, I took an incredible linguistics/history course about writing systems, and that was probably my favourite class ever. I took a course during undergrad about different schools of psychotherapy that was pretty damned influential too.

DREAM JOB? I also loved Johaerys's answer here: "I don't think there's any sort of job anyone could do in this capitalist hellscape we're all currently living in that would be enjoyable enough to make up for, well... living in a capitalist hellscape." I'm lucky enough to work in the public healthcare system so I'm pretty safe from the worst of capitalism, I guess, though my job (speech-language pathologist) is one I chose more for practicality (certainty of employment) than because I was really passionate about it. If I could do something else and not have to worry about money, I would either want to be a fiction editor, or a sex therapist.

Tagging forward to @ranaspkillnarieth @iamcayc @heroofshield @fantasy-girl974 @hellas-himself @midnightacrobat @alyssalenko @vorchagirl @elinorbard @stuffforthestash @mwasaw @lordofthenerds97 @y0ureviltwin @ladyofthelake91 @perhapsrampancy @cha-mij and genuinely, anyone else who wants to share!!! Tag me so I can spy on your life! 🤣❤

[quidnunc-life]

ten! first! lines!

@leenik-geelo tagged me to post first lines from ten of my fics! let's go!

There were lots of good things about being a private investigator: working whatever hours you wanted, indulging the overly nosy aspect of human nature, having reason to purchase fantastic trench coats. (letting me in or letting me go)

“It’s going to rain,” she tells him, apropos of nothing. It’s May in Omsk, utterly picturesque, blue sky and fleecy clouds and the river Irtysh throwing dappled sunlight in every direction. Even the back alley he has her cornered is positively scenic, as far as alleys go. (all the magic i have known)

It’s 11:45 on New Year’s Eve, and no, Clint doesn’t know where Natasha is, and yes, he knows they’re often together, but they’re not right now, obviously, and it’s not like he’s her babysitter, is he? (the time of night some people call morning)

It begins, as too many things in his life do, with Dog Cops. (and at night be warm)

“She’s in Venice,” Phil tells him; but Clint has been chasing the faceless Black Widow through Europe for two years now, and he’s learned better than to take the certainty in his brow seriously. (con te partirò)

Everyone knows who Natasha Romanoff is. (who wants to be a billionaire)

Objectively, it’s Clint’s fault. (fast, thorough, sharp as a tack)

When Janet suggests a team bonding event, Natasha thinks she means… you know, normal stuff: an art gallery, a movie; hell, even bowling. (some moments more spectacular than others)

There’s a diner at the end of the block, and that’s what it’s called. (minor arcana)

Sometimes, you lean against a brick wall outside a coffee shop to take a selfie with your coffee, and nothing happens. In fact, go ahead and replace “sometimes” with “usually,” or “99% of the time.” It’s highly unlikely, after all, for a wall to be anything other than what it appears to be. (listen, there's a hell of a good universe next door)

aaaaand some bonus wips, should anyone want to motivate me:

Although it’s not the career Clint Barton intended to have, he is, it turns out, an incredible assistant. (a "billionaire" sequel whose working title is "a fake marriage that definitely won't become real, no sir")

If Pepper wasn’t so desperately happy, Natasha would cheerfully murder her. (a flatshare au. working title: damn you live like this???)

tagging: @cassiesinsanity @alphaflyer @cloud--atlas @poppypickle @inkvoices @aurorashard and anyone else who wants to!!!

[oh-saints]

damn girl you ride the angst part SO GOOD I had to take a break and breathe before scrolling down again. pls enlighten us the reason Martin didn't touch Eve on Pt. 4 bc I can't be the only one dying to know???

thank you so much for the love, darling! glad you like 'em ❤️ i actually had martin's POV drafted but deleted them before it could go live bcs i think it's going to be too long???

alas, since you asked and copying excerpts from my draft doesn't require much movement to my healing wrists...... here we go?

hands

eve wasn't the only one struggling to find peace with the reality that she and martin weren't happening. could it be martin's biggest regret since signing for real madrid?

grumpy!martin odegaard x sunshine!OC

word count: 0.9k

note: this bonus chapter takes place at the same time as part 4 so i'd suggest to read the series first! but disclaimer; i'm not the one asking for another angst ride, okay? pls don't hate me after this :( i didn't release this bcs y'all keep berating me not to prolong the couple's misery and i love you guys. anyways, i happen to write this at dawn as usual so not beta-read yet.

tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc @laurensficrecs @soccerwag9 <3

sunshine becomes you masterlist here

“invite her over,” his mother said.

it’d be fun, kristoff also said.

the two sentences were ringing off martin’s ears as he spun over the steering wheel to lead him god-knows-where. what he did know was that he had to get out of the house because it was starting to suffocate him.

funny his own home could now no longer be considered his sanctuary.

but as he veered down the roads, passing countless of buildings saturating the london scenery, he surrendered to the fact that he had lost to reality. the one where he lost eve, and the very one where he wanted to recoup back the warmth and comfort she exuded as she settled in his lap, his arms sneaking across her waist involuntarily like it was martin’s nature.

funny she was giving him warmth and comfort when she was seeking them in him the first place, as the cold winter air grazed her bright skin, thanks to the lighting from the chandelier. flawless, as he peppered down butterfly pecks against the glazing surface, drunk in her scent and the feeling of having her in his arms.

but as he passed down the hotel that was only hosting the Christmas gala weeks ago—god damn it, was it only weeks ago—he could feel his heart wrenching at the sight and he know he’d surrendered further to the reality that he had, indeed, lost everything.

just the way he’d gained them all overnight.

it all sank in the way sky sunk down on atlas, all the feelings and reality and what not. and it was mostly the reason why he had to flee his own home.

the presence of his family mentioning and fawning over eve was too much for martin to bear, for he was the only one who knew that he was a whole different person behind the walls—loser, never a winner. and them asking eve to come over was the nail to the coffin.

nothing else in this earthly side was he not reminded of eve, evangeline, his angel. everything of her had permeated his life, his world, his sanity.

and he hated it. he hated the fact that she had come barging into his life totally like a sunshine, so bright and deary and now martin didn’t think he could survive without her. he hated her for that, he hated her for how well they mashed together at the hips during the Christmas gala, he hated her for how excellent she tasted on the lips and on his hands. he hated her for leaving him traces of her for days to come, and for days to only repeat those memories, and for days to only come back to earth knowing she didn’t want him.

like he was a spilling dam in need of sealing, he hated her for making him wanting her.

and martin had never felt so helpless of his own life, more than when he couldn’t get a hold of his own future in madrid.

“martin,” he looked up at his name being called, and he was shocked to see the bane of his existence standing metres away from him. “what are you doing here?”

the same question could be asked by himself to his own self.

he didn’t realise his hands and feet maneuvered him involuntarily to the place belonging to the person in the roots of his extra-terrestrial crisis. it was as if his mind and body was telling—no, showing him that the answer to all of this agonizing was also the problem he thought it was.

what kind of problem looking so gut-wrenchingly heart-breaking, with hairs blown everywhere and tip of nose red from the early winter air blowing?

what kind of problem looking so gut-wrenchingly heart-breaking, still, when all he did the past week was to avoid her like a pest so he could prepare himself, body and soul, for the time he’d truly be deprived of the pleasure from the knowledge that she existed the same time as him? for the time he could truly move on from the magical night they shared together?

weeks away from her yet seconds he saw her, the words I miss you threatened to flood down his tongue. he wanted to them so badly but knew she’d kick him away this instance if he did so. so he did, biting off his tongue and pursing his lips so tight he could feel his muscles numbing.

because he didn’t want that—away from her anymore. not when the mere sound of her voice relieved everything inside of martin. not when he was so close—yet so far—like this.

so close he could smell eve’s signature smell, the very smell not escaping his nostrils ever since they got a sniff of her perfume. so close the tip of his fingers could feel the touch of her skin, as soft as the expensive material from the gown he’d purchased solely for her. so close he had to hide away his hands in the pockets, afraid to put another foot wrong the way his mouth did.

no matter how much they were itching to get a hold of her—anything of her. who was he to do that when she made it clear she didn't want him no more?

[howlingday]

Setting - People scream as they flee downtown Vale. A war machine is on a rampage, destroying cars and smashing building walls. Inside, a madman cackles in his revelry as police are powerless to stop him.

Lisa: We are live here in downtown Vale, where the recently escaped convict and gang leader, Roman Torchwick is causing as of yet untold collateral damage, with an unknown number of civilians injured. Police are caught in a devastating warzone as they battle the criminal, who is inside what is confirmed to be a Paladin-class mechanized exoskelton. As the carnage continues, everyone's minds are focused on the singular question;

Lisa: Where is the Red Hero?!

Roman: AHAHAHAHAHA! Hello, people of Vale! Roman Torchwick is back, and bigger than ever! With that Little Red nuisance gone, I OWN this city, and not a damn one of you can stop me!

Terra: What should we do?

Saphron: What can we do? Our car has been destroyed, and we were lucky to be alive when the police showed up.

Terra: I know you don't like her, but... I really wish Red Streak would be here.

Saphron: (Sighs) I hate to say it, but I wish she was here, too.

Adrian: (Looks up at his cowering moms, Crawls through barricade holding a red cape)

Terra: Adrian? ADRIAN!

Saphron: NO! COME BACK!

Officer: Ma'am, you need to remain calm and stay behind the barricade!

Saphron: But that's my son out there!

Chief: HOLD YOUR FIRE!

Roman: Huh? Well, well, well! Look who it is! It's Little Red herself! And I guess she lost weight, huh? HAHAHAHAHA!

Terra: (Sobbing) THAT'S MY SON!

Saphron: (Sobbing) THAT'S MY BABY!

Adrian: (Ties on red cape, Glares at Roman)

Roman: Well, aren't you brave? Are you going to fight me yourself, Little Man? (Steps forward)

Adrian: (Puts up his fists)

Chief: (Feels something on his shoulder, Plucks off a rose petal)

Roman: (Stops, Scowls)

???: Hey... Red Hero...

Adrian: (Turns around, Pulls off hood)

Ruby: (Smiles)

Adrian: I knew you'd come back.

Ruby: (Chuckles) Sorry for the wait, and, uh, thanks for stepping in for me. You're very brave. (Crouches down) But right now, your moms need you to keep them safe okay? Just like your uncle would. Don't worry about Torchwick. I got him.

Adrian: (Nods, Runs back to his moms)

Crowd: (Cheers)

Ruby: Uh, excuse me, but could I borrow your megaphone?

Chief: Yeah, sure. Here.

Ruby: Thanks. (Clicks megaphone)

Roman: Oh, you're actually going to fight me now, Little Red?

Ruby: (Via megaphone) ON BEHALF THE GOOD PEOPLE OF VALE AND THE NOT SO GOOD PEOPLE OF THE ATLAS MILITARY, I REQUEST YOU STEP OUT OF THE MECH AND SURRENDER PEACEFUL WITH AS LITTLE CIGAR SMOKE AS POSSIBLE.

Roman: NEVER! YOU RUINED ME, SO NOW I'M GOING TO RUIN YOU! I'LL CRUSH YOU AND KILL YOU AND BLOW UP WHATEVER'S LEFT OF YOUR CORPSE!

Ruby: WAIT, YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER THERE SO YOU CAN KILL ME?

Roman: YES!

Ruby: WELL, I'D HATE TO DISAPPOINT YOU, TORCHIE! (Hands back megaphone, Sighs) Just another beautiful day in the greatest city in Remnant.

Roman: (Charges forward with Paladin, Launching all weapons at once)

Ruby: (Weaves around zooming projectiles, Smiling)

[poibynt]

The Poib Masterpost (WIP)

Yo yo yo I'm Flynn I do so many god damn things here's some of them

Ao3

FICS

I have some old Maze Runner stuff on my ao3 but I don't wanna look at that shit anymore so I won't be putting them here but they do exist.

Star Wars

Tennir par ni. Bobadin. 19k. Din's sick. The palace is old and full of memories. Boba grapples with it.

Harbinger series

If I can't change the weather, maybe I can change your mind. Also known by its working title Harbinger. Bobadin 84K. A harbinger offers a lighthouse keeper’s son an umbrella. Things go from there.

Seabird, Seabird, Fly home. Gen. 2K. Companion piece to change your mind. Din truly didn’t know if Paz would greet him with an arm slung over his shoulder or a hand pressing him hard against the cave walls while a knife glinted at his throat.

At ash’amur, norac at norac. At oyayc, pel’gam at pel’gam. Bobadin. 4K. The fight is over, now it’s time to clean up the mess. But first, Boba needs to take care of someone and avoid all the things that need saying.

Ni dirycir ner kando, ner beroya. Bobadin. 3k. Din keeps running away from being Mand'alor. Boba keeps tracking him down and bringing him back. Maybe they should talk about it.

ATLA

Theatre Techie Modern AU

live in america (the upper peninsula and the television news) Zukka but mostly gen. 3K. Waffles, horrible weather, impromptu production meetings and love amongst the dragons.

we watched it all night (we grew up in spite of it) Zukka. 3K. Misadventure, newly realised fears and late night lighting work.

HTTYD BOOKS

Moving Forward, Looking Back Gen. 1.6K. The first thing Hiccup does the morning after his (hopefully last) venture into Lavalout territory is sneaking out of his hut way too early in the morning. He wasn’t trying to hide what he was doing from his father, but Toothless.

Jujutsu Kaisen

My dogs a gone hunting (the howling is through)

Yuuji/Sukuna. 3.5k. The end of Itadori Yuuji’s false confidence starts with a bird hitting a window. Or: Yuuji starts receiving a visitor in his dreams. Things spiral.

Begging you please baby (show me your world)

Getou suguru/gojo satoru. 12.6k. Getou Suguru is in love with his best friend. Summer doesn't help.

Do you ever think of me and my two hands?

Kenjaku & Yuuji. 4K. Kenjaku follows their son’s development with interest.

PODFICS

STAR WARS

[podfic] Eccentric Orbit by a_shiny_mess. Bobadin. 15min. Boba had left a non urgent message in one of the drops Din checked regularly. Of course he’d started making his way back to Tatooine.

[podfic] a kind moment by QuickSilverFox3. Bobadin. 9min. Working together comes with several unexpected problems. Trying to avoid being spotted by the bounty Boba and Din are tracking is one of them.

[podfic] gonna carry you back home by Kazhan. 13min. While on his way to Corvus to find the Jedi, Din finally takes a closer look at the armor he retrieved from Cobb Vanth.

[podfc] yeah, you know what to do by Control. 13min. There’s a bounty on the head of Tatooine’s newest crime lord.

ATLA

[podfic] i gave you to the water (and she claimed you for her own) by Agni_Kai. Zukka. 1hr 34min. Stories and legends, of missing boats and strange sea-creatures from the spirit world, drowning unsuspecting sailors when they paddle too far out to sea. Sokka is beginning to think that he maybe shouldn't have been so quick to ignore Gran-Gran. Sokka’s solo fishing trip does not go as planned. Neither does Zuko’s hunting trip.

[numberth1rte3n]

The Atlas Project

BY NUMBER TH1RTE3N

“It’s dead.”

Dreg looked at the mound of circuits and metal plates in front of him with a mournful expression. He sighed, exasperated. Tonight’s run hadn’t been great to start with, just a couple dozen pounds of loose chromium scraps and barely salvageable wires. He and Juke had snuck into the slums of the Commerce Sector as a last-ditch effort. Scrappers were barred from stepping foot in the Commerce Sector without authorization from a Class B or above citizen, but Dreg and Juke were desperate. The things that the upper citizenry threw away haphazardly were too big a haul to pass up. Potentially. If they didn’t bring in enough scrap tonight, they would starve to death without their meal vouchers.

Dreg thought he had found a fully functional ServBot in the slums, near the canals that separated the dilapidated town from the neat, well-manicured lawns and spires of those that were fortunate enough to live and work in the Commerce Sector. The ServBot was half-submerged in brownish water and would have been unrecognizable from any other third-rate android were it not for the emblem on its chest plate that distinguished it as a now-outdated model in the Service lineup of Atlas Co.’s arm. f robotic assistants: a silhouette of a person holding a globe on their shoulders, with a golden “S” laser-cut on the globe. The waters of the canals smelled of freshly flushed feces and death. Dreg looked past the ServBot, into a sewer grate on the wall in front of him. He saw several human appendages poking out from the bars, blinking in and out of existence with the flickering neon purple lights coming from the street signs lining the street above him. Dreg held back a gag and focused his attention back onto the robot. He and Juke couldn’t afford to go any hungrier, and a dead Bot was leagues better than no Bot.

“Let’s pull it out.” Dreg said to Juke, crouching down to get a good hold on the machine.

“What?” Replied Juke, grabbing onto Dreg’s arm. “Are you insane? do you know what the Specs would do to us if they found us down here?”

Dreg paused, suddenly unsure.

Juke pointed at the grate in front of him, his expression morphing into one of fear and nervous anxiety.

Dreg knew that if the Sector Peace Corps caught him and Juke, there would be little else they could do except run, and they would likely not get very far. The specs had their hover cruisers and all Dreg and Juke had were emaciated legs and some cheap cybernetic augmentations that barely did anything anyway. He thought about it briefly, almost considering taking what little loot they had gathered up until that point back to the Yard. Then Dreg’s stomach growled and twisted, and that steeled him.

“We don’t really have a choice,” Dreg said, “if the Specs finds us, they blast us to Hell. If we go back to the Yard without more scrap, we don’t eat and then we die anyway. Now, help me pull this damn thing out.”

Juke looked at him, and Dreg wondered if he would leave him there in favor of returning to the Yard with his share of the haul. But Juke clicked his tongue in annoyance and bent down to assist Dreg in hauling up the Bot.

It was heavy, and very much stuck. Dreg and Juke had to shift positions, find new handholds, and pause for breath several times in the twenty or so minutes that it took to pull the Robot out. Dreg cut his thumb on a sharp piece of rusted metal that was poking out from the robot’s armpit. He thought about the possibility of infection, but his stomach growled again, and he pushed the thought away. Dreg wiped the blood from his thumb on his shit-water-soaked shirt. After a final tug that sent both men sprawling onto the pavement, the ServBot was lying in front of the two Scrappers, and Dreg was able to see the entire machine.

It was a standard model. Humanoid, about six feet tall. The synthetic muscle fibers that normally would have been covered by protective titanium plating were exposed. Some of the fibers were torn or eaten away at from being submerged in the water. What little plating was left had oxidized and rusted over, but Dreg could tell that the ServBot had originally been a grayish white. It was also missing a foot and a few fingers. The head was the least ravaged component, and Dreg thought it would probably fetch the highest price back at the Yard. After a thorough examination, he was about to try to rip the head off when he noticed something.

A couple of years ago, before Dreg lost his citizenship, he did maintenance on Atlas Co. tech for the upper-class citizenry. He was good at it too, so he knew when a Bot was truly dead or when there was severe user error. Very rarely was it the former. Dreg couldn’t see it when the bot was in the water, but now that it was in front of him, it was unmistakable.

“Juke, look at this.” Ignoring the pain in his thumb and the moans coming from his bowels, Dreg hurriedly pulled off the chest plate of the ServBot, his heart smashing against his ribcage. When the plating was finally off, he pointed at a device at the center of the newly exposed wiring. It was small, about the size of an old-world baseball, and icosahedral. It was sitting awkwardly inside a compartment at the very center of the robot’s chest. Dreg could tell by the look of confusion on Juke’s face that he didn’t know how much their lives had just changed.

“I swear, Dreg,” Juke looked upset. “I’m going to call the Specs myself if you don’t hurry up.”

Suddenly smiling, Dreg didn’t feel as hungry as he did a moment ago while he was covered in wet shit and bleeding from the thumb. Carefully, Dreg picked up the polygonal object from the open chest cavity of the robot. He turned it around in his hands, examining it more closely. The faces of the fusion core were surprisingly clean; It had somehow been spared the unholy wrath of the Commerce Sector’s sewage system. It shimmered in the low light, and it was slightly warm to the touch. One of the faces of the core had a small opening, and when Dreg looked inside, he almost yelped with excitement as he saw the faintest of glows.

“It’s still active!”

At that moment, Dreg heard the shrill sirens of Sector Peace Corps in the distance. He turned to look at Juke, but he was already hiding behind some wreckage in the shadows of the sewers. Juke stuffed the fusion core into his pants pocket. It barely fit and looked distended, making it difficult to sprint to where juke was hiding. He took cover next to his friend and waited as the sound grew louder. The sound of the sirens continued to intensify, until it was almost too loud to hear his own blood pumping in his ears.

In an instant, the canals exploded with flashing neon lights as a veritable army of Specs blasted over the canal, heading south, toward the other end of the Commerce Sector. The neon lights glistened off the polished windows of the skyscrapers and the waxed chassis of the many HyperDrivers parked in the streets. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, the lights and the sounds finally faded from and the Scrappers were again left alone with a broken robot and shit-water. Juke pushed Dreg out from behind the wreckage they were hiding behind.

“What the hell, Dreg?! If we had waited an extra second messing around with your damn Bot, we would have been a pile of ash right now!”

Dreg was barely listening. He was already on his feet, the ringing of the sirens already gone from his ear. The fusion core was already out of his pocket as Dreg sprinted back to the ServBot. He felt almost childlike in his excitement, like he was opening a gift or turning on a new piece of tech for the first time. Which, technically, was what he was about to do.

Dreg placed the open face of the fusion core back down into the now empty compartment. It didn’t fit quite well, but after some slight adjustments, the core snapped into place.

Dreg waited. Juke looked expectantly at both his fellow Scrapper and the still-very-much-dead ServBot, his eyes flitting back and forth between them. There was a palpable nervous energy in the air. The only sound came from the water rushing past the sewer grate into the puddle behind them.

Dreg’s heart was thumping incredibly quickly, his entire body pulsing with a hopeful pang. He began to worry that he was mistaken, that the Bot was unserviceable, and that he had just wasted valuable time and could be halfway out of the commerce sector by now. His hands shook with anticipation and his eyes lips were chapped.

Then the ArcLED faceplate on the ServBot’s head lit up. Dreg let out a barely suppressed whoop, triggering a panicked shush from Juke.

The faceplate of the robot began humming a low frequency, barely audible, as diagnostic code began to appear on where the robot’s fake face would be. Dreg recognized this very well, he had run several of these codes for regular maintenance protocols when he was a citizen. The lights continued to dance as more and more boxes checked green, though there some that checked red. Among the red boxes were functions such as “Locomotion: Right Foot” and “Dexterity: Full Phalangeal Function”. The missing foot and fingers, of course. “Speech” and “AI Processing” were tinted yellow, signaling that some maintenance was required, but they were functional.

The faceplate went dark again. Dreg and Juke were crouched shoulder to shoulder, a foot away from the robot’s head, waiting for anything else to happen.

The ServBot suddenly jolted into a seated position, smacking into the two Scrapper’s foreheads, and sending them reeling onto their backs, clutching their heads in pain.

“D-d-d-di4g-diagN0stics C0mPle-Complete.” Said the ServBot, in a masculine-sounding voice. Dreg was still rubbing his forehead and blinking away the tears in his eyes, but he could understand why the “Speech” function was yellowed out. The Bot’s head moved around slowly, searching for a human to interface with. When the head had turned almost all the way around, it spotted Juke first, who was still groaning from the blunt force trauma the android had inflicted on him.

“Greetings, mister B-ba-ba-ba-“ this went on for about twelve seconds. “ba- baz-Bazrian!”

Juke moaned in pain and pointed at Dreg.

“Talk … to him…” he said in between moans of pain.

The robot swirled around, torso and all, and repeated the greeting, this time much more succinctly.

“Greetings, mister Bazrian.”

The voice was friendly and warm, much as they were designed to be. The ArcLED faceplate now displayed a very old-world pixelated smiley face, the default setting. Dreg had always liked the retro feel of the default setting, even though ArcLED technology was so advanced that it could perfectly mimic a human face in three dimensions.

As for the greeting, Dreg didn’t know what to say. Partly because of his new concussion, and partly because the ServBot had just said the name of the most powerful man on the planet.

“Mister…Bazrian…?” Said Dreg, tentatively, and with palpable fear in his voice.

“Yes! That is, you, mister Bazrian. How ma-ma-may I be of ServBot to y-y-y-y-you?”

Dreg began to understand the severity of his actions. He had just revived an old ServBot of the head of Atlas Co., Jayce Bazrian. The world’s single wealthiest, most influential person to ever exist, and Dreg had just been mistaken for that person. An ex-citizen Scrapper, starving, bleeding, and covered in shit, was just called the name of the person that owns the world.

Dread began to fill his heart and spread throughout his body. Stealing property from a S-class citizen, the highest level of citizenship, was already an extra capital offense. Not only would dreg be executed, but all people that were connected to dreg through his Cybernetic Communication Profile would be as well, for fear that he may have spread classified information to non-citizens. That means Dreg, Juke, and basically everyone at the Yard would be summarily put to death.

Juke had started to recover from the ServBot’s assault and realized what had happened.

“Did that thing just say ‘Bazrian’? As in, ‘Jayce Bazrian’?”

The android whipped its head around again, facing Juke.

“Yes! You are Jayce Bazrian!” The robot then began to stand up, and promptly fell over into a pile of metal, causing an awful clanging sound to echo off the walls and down the alleyways of the Commerce Sector.

“Ouch!” said the ServBot, even though it was incapable of feeling pain.

Juke looked at Dreg, with a frantic expression.

“Man, I really don’t care how you do it, but every Spec in this whole sector heard that noise. Get this thing moving, now!”

Dreg stood and walked to the bot, who was already halfway up again. He helped it stand upright and supported some of its weight on his shoulders.

“Um, ServBot?”

Its head whipped around. “Yes, mister Bazrian?”

“We, um, have to get moving. If you’ll please plot a course for the Yard?”

At the mention of the Yard, the ArcLED faceplate changed shape into a glowing red “X”.

“Mister Bazrian, the Yard (formerly known as Fort Vegas during the Third World War) is an authorized ex-citizen ha-bi-b-b-b-bitation. Population: three thousand, four hundred and sixty-six-”

Juke perked up slightly. “Sixty-six?”

“Anthea must’ve had her baby.” replied Dreg.

“Oh, cool.”

“-according to latest opinion polls, your favorability amongst ex-ci-t-t-t-t-izens is zero-point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-eight-three percent.”

“Wow,” said Dreg, already walking with the robot down the edge of the canal, “that’s low.”

“By some metrics! Your favorability amongst citizens still remains at eighty-nine-point-three-six p-p-p-p-percent.”

“Of course it does.”

“I would also like to remind you that you have-“ There was a moment of silence as the ServBot opened its logs, “four thousand three hundred and seventy-two missed meetings.”

Juke chimed in, looking over his shoulder worriedly, “Please, shut up.”

“At once!” And the ServBot shut up.

Juke looked at his friend and shook his head. Dreg could see the panic in his eyes, and he knew that Juke was aware of the consequences of being caught with this ServBot as well.

“This stunt better be worth it” he said. Dreg let the words bounce around his head.

Naturally, Dreg had his reservations. He and his Scrapper friend had just committed one of the most heinous crimes a person could commit, and to a passing observer they would have looked no different than any other disheveled, forgotten, or otherwise downtrodden individual in the entire world.

He was also confused. Jayce Bazrian was the head of Atlas Co., the world’s leading cybernetic and robotics manufacturer. His visage was plastered on almost every branded product, so much so that his fake smile was looming over the citizens of the several Sectors pretty much everywhere they went. Every elected official had received some method of payment from him, either directly or through some manner of corruption. Someone that influential couldn’t have simply lost their own personal ServBot?

Dreg let his mind wander for some time as he, Juke, and the Bot limply made their way to the end of the canal, where the water drained into a pipe that led to more pipes that eventually drained into the Gulf of Mexico. There was a makeshift bridge here, hidden from view by the shadows of the surrounding buildings. It was created by teams of Scrappers over several years under cover of darkness, just in case some unfortunate, desperate, or downright foolish Scrappers wanted to try their luck at whatever the elite may have been throwing out of their windows.

Dreg and Juke crossed the bridge, the Bot still very quiet and hanging onto Dreg’s shoulder for support. The Bot was rickety and in desperate need of repairs, but after some careful maneuvering, the Scrappers and their new companion had crossed to the other side, into the much more homely and very much run-down Labor Sector. Only a few steps up in terms of comfort from the Yard, the Labor Sector is where those still fortunate enough to still have a job not yet taken from a Bot lived their daily lives. Dreg used to live here too. He paused for a moment to look at the peeling paint on some of the residential buildings, and almost felt nostalgic. Even though he and Juke had a long way to walk from here, Dreg breathed a sigh of relief. Specs didn’t patrol too far from the Commerce Sector, and Scrappers were allowed in the Labor Sector with no issue. He looked at the Bot on his shoulder, the pixelated smiley face still bright and cheerful.

“ServBot?” Dreg asked, hoping to learn some more about why exactly they had found such a delicate piece of tech in sewage.

“Y-y-y-y-y-es, Mister Bazrian?” The Bot replied, whipping its head around to look at Dreg.

“What exactly is the last thing that you can recall before your reboot?”

The Bot’s faceplate switched to another display, one of a confused face, frowning. A digital tear rolled down the Bot’s nonexistent cheek.

“I’m sorry, Mister Bazrian. Many of my memory files appear to have been corrupted. It a-a-a-ppears that it had been some time since my l-l-l-l-ast maintenance. Would you like me to schedule an ap-p-p-ointment with a licensed Atlas Co. ServBot Technician?” The Bot’s faceplate projected a holo-screen in front of Dreg and Juke, which made them jump slightly. The screen displayed some highly rated Japanese restaurants within a ten-mile radius. Even though this was clearly not what the Bot wanted to display, Dreg and Juke stopped to admire some of their menus for a moment, almost drooling over the sight of food that wasn’t purchased through meal vouchers or comprised in some form of dead rat meat.

When they had finally managed to wave the screen away, the Scrappers found that they were now surrounded by a group of people. Distracted by the holo-screen, they weren’t able to see them crawl out of the alleyways of the Labor Sector and slowly skulk around their little group. Only slightly obscured by shadows, their glowing neon tattoos in the shapes of various beasts and monsters from old-world mythology unmistakably marked them as members of the Fantasy Boys gang. Dreg and Juke had run into them before on their runs. They usually didn’t do much except throw insults, but any Scrapper worth their salt knows that a Bot was worth killing for. Dreg lifted his hands into the air, followed by Juke. The Bot’s arms were still hanging loosely around Dreg’s shoulders.

“Easy now, boys,” said Dreg, “we’re just trying to get back to the Yard.” A figure at the front of the group stepped closer to Dreg, into the light of an overhead streetlamp. He was tall and had arms like tree trunks. He wore a ripped leather jacket and some faded black jeans with black work boots. Bald and bearded, he approached Dreg with all the confidence of someone that knew they had just struck gold. Much like how Dreg felt when he had fixed the ServBot.

The man lifted one of his arms, which Dreg now noticed was completely replaced from the elbow down with a gnarly blasting rifle implant. He pointed to barrel at Dreg’s chest and let out a hearty chuckle.

“I don’t think the Yard is where ya’ll are headed.” He looked at the Bot, whose face again displayed the default pixelated smiley face. He pointed the blaster-arm at the Bot. “What’s so funny, eh? Got something to smile about don’t you?”

The man with the gun for a hand suddenly pointed it to the sky and fired a round, which pierced through both the sky and Dreg’s eardrums. The sound bounced down the dark alleys and the flash of light that came from the gun’s muzzle illuminated the street so briefly it seemed as if the Fantasy Boy’s tattoos had blinked in and out of existence.

Dreg was still reeling from the shock when two of the gang members swept up from behind Juke and pushed him to the ground, holding him there, squirming, while they checked him for any good loot. Finding nothing, they keep him pinned down as he struggles. Dreg was picked up from the shirt collar by the gun-arm-man and brought to eye-level with him. With no one to support its weight, the Bot fell backward into the street, smiley face still on.

“I want you to ask your circuit-freak here what he thinks is so funny.” He pointed with his gun hand to the ServBot. “If you don’t give me an answer,” he switched targets to Juke, “then I’m gonna paint the street pink with your friend’s brains. Then, I’m gonna – “

The man with the gun for a hand had his sentence cut short, because there was now a gaping hole in his head.

Dreg watched as he was let go, almost falling to the ground were it not for the ServBot there to catch him. Dreg noticed that the Bot’s right hand smoked and sizzled with residual energy. A faint green glow faded from a now visible hole in the palm of the Bot. It had blasted the Fantasy Boy to Hell.

“Do not worry, Mister Bazrian,” it said, cheerful as ever, “threat n-n-n-n-neutralized. The Sector Peace Corps are on their way!”

“The fucking who now?”

Just as the now-dead gun-arm man hit the street with a reverberating thud, A small patrol of Specs veered the corner at the far end of the street on hover cruisers, their sirens and lights on full alert. Near the canal, another group of specs was closing in, sandwiching the Scrappers and the Fantasy Boys together with no hope of escape.

“LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS OR WE WILL SHOOT TO KILL!”

This voice came from the Spec in the lead of the first group. Right after he had finished the order, he began shooting at the Fantasy Boys.

The two men holding Juke down adjusted their positions to take cover and shoot back at the Specs, as did the rest of the Fantasy Boys. In the span of three seconds the street had become a warzone, with Dreg, Juke, and the Bot caught in the middle.

“Bot, what the hell? Why did you call the Specs?” asked Dreg, taking cover from the hail of plasma-fire raining down on them. Juke replied before the Bot could.

“Stupid thing probably knew what we were the whole time and just wanted to get back to his oligarch master!” he spit at the Bot’s faceplate, which now showed an array of combat diagrams and targeting reticles. Dreg had seen this kind of software on a bot before, but only when they were military issue. The kind of Bots that were sent out to fight proxy wars in New Africa, never a personal assistance Bot like the one he and Juke had found.

“Mister Bazrian,” The Bot placed a hand on Juke’s shoulder, “it is my duty to protect you from any and all manner of danger that may come your way. When I sensed your heightened anxiety levels and increased adrenaline count, I assumed you were in danger and summoned the Sector Peace Corps to assist in eliminating the threat.” The Bot did not slur its speech.

It all made sense then, at least to Dreg. Of course, any personal assistance robot to the supreme oligarch of Earth would be packing many manners of heat.

“Well, it almost got us fucking killed!” Juke shouted.

Above them, a Spec was shot off his hover cruiser and landed near the edge of the canal. The cruiser continued to float for a moment before its auto-parking protocol slowly lowered it to the street, some distance away from the fighting. Dreg had an idea.

“ServBot!”

“Yes, Mister Bazrian?”

“I need you to defend this position for a moment. Can you do that?

A Fantasy Boy came tumbling next to them, riddled with plasma-holes.

“Of course, sir!”

Dreg looked at Juke. “Stay down, buddy.”

He sprinted from their position to the hover cruiser. Plasmafire chased him as he was caught in the sights of a passing Fantasy Boy perched on a rooftop, but he was quickly dispatched by the Bot, who flashed Dreg a thumb’s-up.

Finally, Dreg reached the cruiser and hopped on. The keycard was still in the ID slot, so Dreg started the vehicle with little trouble. He drove the distance back to his companions.

“Get on, both of you!”

There was little argument from Juke and even less from the Bot as they climbed onto the cruiser. “ServBot, don’t let anyone follow us, Spec or not!”

The Bot replied by enthusiastically shooting at any potential target, with extreme prejudice. Specs began falling out of the sky like flies and the Fantasy Boys were no different. Dreg raised the cruiser as high as it would go, higher than some of the residential buildings of the Labor Sector, and punched it North, towards the Yard.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

2022 Writing Year in Review

thank you for the tag @northerngoshawk!! 💕

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 18

2. Word count this year: 172,404 words! we could get really technical and subtract the word counts for the fics i technically wrote in 2021 but typed/posted in 2022, but that’s a lot of work i don’t feel like doing lol

3. Fandoms I wrote for: ATLA, Law & Order, MCU (+ Venom), Monk, and Medium. not sure i want to know what that says about me...

4. Pairings: petermj (mcu), allison/joe (medium), kincoy (claire/jack from l&o), zukaang (atla), tylara (atla), mjflash (mcu), and kataang (atla). a nice mixture!

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: Walls (my mj&flash friendship fic) comes in first with 114 kudos

Bookmarks: Walls comes out on top again with 29 bookmarks!

Comment threads: this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine), my mjflash + venom!flash fic, has the most comment threads by far with 47, the result of a small but loyal following of readers who made my day every time they commented 💛

Word count: by a hair, The Wrong Note (my monk x medium crossover) has the highest word count at 37,630 words! this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine) has 37,011 words

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): im proud of all my works for different reasons! today i shall spotlight my children will listen series, consisting of two waterbending-centric fics narrated by kanna and katara respectively; both stories explore cultural loss and intergenerational trauma. i’d never written companion pieces prior to that point, so im proud of how i was able to construct those parallel narratives! i also had a blast reworking one of my favorite shel silverstein poems to weave throughout the story

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): ?? this is a silly question. fanfic is my hobby, im not writing it for journal publication. onto the next one!

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: literally Every review i got on the children will listen series; i had no idea how impactful those fics would be or how many people would relate to it, but im so glad i ended up writing and publishing them! i also have to shoutout ocean’s review on time apart, time together (the tylara fic i wrote for her bday 💛) bc she truly Understood that story through and through, and i am equal parts delighted and relieved that she did (since it was written for her 💕)

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: i mean, im a college student. i almost never write fic during the semester, lol. i Literally haven’t written fic since,,,, august 2022. (technically i could have written some fic these past few weeks BUT it’s the holidays so i’ve been spending time with family + revising my research paper + loosely working on some original writing)

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: BRUH all of my law & order fics surprised me 😭 come on, babe (why don’t we paint the town?) contains Thee sexiest scene i’ve ever written; find a flask (we’re playing fast and loose) is written SOLELY from jack’s pov (a 50-year-old white man, how low have i fallen); and it was more than worth it (my kincoy magnum opus) was my first foray into nonlinear storytelling. all in all, 2022 was quite an experimental year for me!

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: i’ve talked to death my favorite excerpt from it was more than worth it, so instead i’ll spotlight an excerpt from if memories could fade away (my mj birthday fic):

Ned sticks his tongue out at her, and MJ responds in turn before opening the door anyway, because he’s Ned and she’s MJ and it’s always been just them, the two of them, eight years going on eighteen.

“Damn, girl, you live like this?” Ned says as he enters, watching where he steps so he doesn’t trip over one of her many piles of everything—textbooks, clothes, journals, old CDs too scratched to use that will soon become the basis of MJ’s next art project: voices we no longer hear.

She remembers getting each CD, starting with Let Go on her tenth birthday, back when she lived in New Orleans and always kept her curly brown hair in symmetrical cornrows or cropped at the base of her neck because of the suffocating humidity. She remembers taking each CD and ripping the music to her computer so her dad could move it onto her tiny red MP3 player for the long, long ride to Queens that began the next day. She remembers two CDs breaking during the drive and one CD breaking when they arrived because she threw it at the wall of her empty new room, angry, so angry she’d been ripped from her home like music from a shiny silver disc and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair—

“You see, guests usually stay downstairs,” MJ teases, pushing aside a pile of clothes so Ned has room to sit on her bed. She takes a seat at her desk, spinning the chair around to face her dearest friend. “If I’d known you were planning to invade my personal space, I might have considered making my living arrangements more presentable.”

Ned snickers. “Considered, and then not done a damn thing about them?”

MJ winks at him. “You know me so well.”

Ned has known her so long, known her messy room, known her impenetrable walls, known her since she was thrown into a new school in a new city expected to make new friends when Michelle knew even at ten that would never happen, not that year, because 5th graders had already chosen their loyal companions five, six, seven years ago and there was no room for a Black girl to fit into a white noise machine that already hummed along without her.

Her parents sent her to school anyway. She must not have been persuasive enough.

MJ MY BELOVED!!! 🥺💛 i enjoyed playing with sentence length/rhythm and metaphors/similes in this fic, and i think this excerpt in particular captures that experimentation

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: hmmmm well i tried my hand at some action sequences in this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine), which probably counts for something. and like i already mentioned, it was more than worth it was my first foray into nonlinear storytelling (and a lot of people told me they enjoyed it!) + if memories could fade away involved stylistic experimentation. in other words, i think i grew as a writer simply by letting myself try new things, from how i told stories to what content i included within them!

13. How do you hope to grow next year: i just want to write more, honestly. the more i write, the more i can try, and hopefully the more i’ll grow! to be more specific, i want to try my hand at some sci-fi/near-future dystopian original stories (à la kazuo ishiguro’s klara and the sun)

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): probably ocean and ambi! they always put up with my fic-related ramblings, are wonderful to bounce ideas off of, and by virtue of their existence (and enthusiasm) remind me why i love writing fic in the first place 💛 in terms of non-tumblr influences, haha, reading the promise by damon galgut was a GAME CHANGER for me. third person omniscient with no quotation marks?? the entire story is an allegory for post-apartheid south africa?? a stylistic and thematic MASTERPIECE. i can only dream of writing a novel with such artistic daring

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: lol this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine) is packedTM with shakespeare references and milton jokes; if memories could fade away explicitly mentions one of avril lavigne’s albums (seen in the provided excerpt); won’t you hang a picture? references nancy drew; and Walls involves a whole project about the picture of dorian gray. when narratively appropriate, i never hesitate to sneak in my own interests 😂

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: write for fun! write what you love! don’t be afraid to experiment! listen to the incredibles soundtrack while you write! read, read, read! write with a cat on your lap! never delete anything! write when you’re inspired and write when you’re not! if it brings you joy to create, then what you create is good enough!

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: honestly, i want to focus on my original writing and my research more, so i may not have as much time for fic. that said, i hope to write:

a sequel to this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine)

the next part of my mcu medium!au

ml fic in general

atla fic in general

time will tell!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: i know a lot of people have been tagged for this already, so apologies if im bombarding you or if you’ve already done this! i’ll tag @justoceanmyth, @ambivalentmarvel, @seek--rest, and @shifuaang :)

[ilearhmajeste]

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[pensiveabstraction]

atla idea thingy: imagine azula, ty lee and mai go to the north pole undercover as earth kingdom nobles to try and scope out the political situation, maybe for potential allyship, maybe to gather intel. they are understandably very upset to be quietly scorned and overlooked for being girls, used to some misogyny (bc no the fire nation is not a perfect feminist wonderland guys) but not to this blatant and stupid an extent of cutting their entire fighting force and pool of healers in half for tradition's sake. they're seething about how such a culture is being extended to the way they're being treated in their room when who comes along to greet the strange guests but princess yue.

she's intrigued by these strange girls, and the way they seem so put out by and scornful of the blatant ways they're being treated for being girls makes her wonder how it feels to live outside of the tradition she's always taken for granted. she keeps visiting them and slowly builds up a friendship. she shares how sometimes she wishes she could just stand up and refuse; refuse to marry hahn, refuse to stay silent while the men are talking, refuse to be made to be a total dependent, completely unable to defend herself should the situation arise.

the three girls decide to try and train her in hand-to-hand. at first they pretend to each other that it's just because having a princess who is confident and strikes back against the rigid pillars of their culture is sure to shake up the tribe's stability (having decided they do not want them as allies). but as time goes on, they're obviously just fond of yue and want to help their friend despite the circumstances shes stuck in.

yue slowly builds up confidence in herself in her defiance of tradition, but is unable to break down the wall of fear stopping her from doing so openly. that is, until she snaps one day, yelling in a council meeting that she won't take this anymore, she's not marrying hahn and she's not going to just sit back and be a good, silent, obedient little daughter.

she panics. there's uproar. immediately there are whispers about her being corrupted by the strange earth girls. in the dead of night, she sneaks to them, telling them they need to escape. of course, she never expected an offer for her to come with them.

they leave the north pole and travel across the world together on the girls' small ship, seeing the sights, having adventures, kicking the asses and taking the names of those who (probably) deserve it. yue gets to see more places than she'd ever hoped she could. azula gets a taste of rebelliousness, of just doing whatever the fuck she wants, her father be damned, and is hooked. mai finds that doing things she wants to do, things that were never expected - by others or her - with the girls she cares about helps push away that boredom more effectively and beautifully than anything. ty lee is overjoyed to make a name for herself and carve out a space in people's minds far from being her sisters' sister through some of their exploits (though being dubbed one of the four apparently terrifying 'pirate princesses' was never what she expected)

whoa i was just spitballing from a cool little idea about a dynamic that got lodged in my brain by a fic i just read earlier, then it turned into this. damn i really need to extract some juice from whichever part of my brain spat this out and try to synthesise it huh.

like with the modern au post, pls feel more than free - feel encouraged - to take inspiration from this, hell to directly rip the idea, and create something from it. just be sure to send it to me so i can geek out and fawn over your creation.

[rachetmath]

Jaune’s Thoughts

Okay guess we got to save Oscar. All I need to do is grab him and we can run. Arc time baby.

Okay but how does that stop us though? There is three of us and one of it. I think we can take it. Hell, I can get close and blow that thing to a distance with my shield. Which is by far my most affective upgrade than my last one. You and Ren both have guns, SHOOT THE DAMN THING! Better yet Yang you have bombs for Oum sake. Why are you lying around? Your aura isn't even broken. What the hell? Why are we doing this? Matter of fact after all this why is Ozpin not doing anything? He could be mad at us but both him and Oscar are in danger. What's he doing? 

Once again, another one of my ideas falls short. I should be used to it by now but damn. Also, fourth wall breaking, why didn't it do this while we were in the city. It would have been a better excuse than us standing around waiting for it to transform. 

What a minute you knew? You knew and you didn't bother to help me?! And you chose to mention this now while we're in storm far from the city! While Oscar could possibly be in danger because we allowed it! What the hell Ren?! When me and Pyrrha went with Oz then why didn't you come with us despite my orders?! Not only that you let me fight a maiden on my own! You agreed to the steal an Atlas airship! I mean- *sigh* you know what never mind. But- 

Basically, Ren old buddy go screw yourself. Also check your list of actions so far because they really aren't in sync with your words.

Wait a minute? You were talking about Ruby, right? You know your sister. Your family. The one person you have been arguing with since we got here. Please tell that's who you were talking about because if not then... .... .... Oh my god. Yang, I understand, really I do but keep your pants on. Get some help.

WOMAN, I am trying to make your job easier! I don't think Penny should be your main concern right now! Look below you! Why are making this so difficult than it needs to be?! The fact that I even bothered to mention anything to you means it affect both sides. I'm actually trying to help you!

Oh look who's talking. Seriously, how's what you're saying helping your case here Yang? Because you have been following not just Ozpin's orders but Ruby's and Ironwoods’ as well. Hell, who's idea was it to tell Robyn everything in the first place? Because from how you told us it certainly wasn't your idea.  

Okay, this will buy us time. Hold on Oscar. We're coming. Hopefully this doesn't become a waste time and our efforts considering we abandon millions of lives in Mantle. (Too bad for Jaune it was.)

Oh f*** you, you blonde... Ugh, the whole point of the plan is to get in, find Oscar and get out. We have time. We just need to look around. Hell at least I came up with a plan. I don’t see you or Ren planning s***. True most of them were failures but still. What have you done? You haven't done anything but complain all day. So, I'm sorry if this plan is too much for you Yang, but let's not forget that once this is over with, we still have help Winter and the Ace-ops. And by we, I mean me and Ren. You could've have stayed with your team. You ungrateful, one armed, simping hypocrite. Nope, you know what, bitch suits you more. 

Wow, so Summer is important to you right now. But Raven, the one who attacked us back at Heaven Academy and who you were searching for almost many years of your life means nothing. Bitch what are your priorities damn it? Who do you even value?

Ren, I know you and Oscar trying to be the wise ones here but let me explain. This woman not only betrayed our trust. She used her semblance on Pyrrha to destroy Penny which could have left Pyrrha traumatized. She tried to kill us back at Heaven. Hell, my bet she's the reason what happened to Amity Arena. What possible reason do we have to trust her? Ren you are a horrible teammate and Oscar, you don't know shit. Like have you ever lost anything before in your life. The only reason Emerald helped us was because she was already helping you. And that almost got her killed. So, no, both of you shut up!

Oh boy. Hopefully this plan doesn't go horribly wrong.

Okay. I know I shouldn't question this at all considering the amount bull crap we been doing but still. Why did we fly here? Why we were we not shot down? Doesn't Atlas have a sky radar to see upcoming ships to avoid being ambushed or shot? And considering Penny is a robot and can fly shouldn't she be detected. How advanced is Atlas because so far, I'm disappointed? Also why is my team needed to fight James? We barely survived against Neo what chance do we stand against James, a headmaster? Also, if Emerald can transform Oscar to look like Hazel and sound like him no less, then why not transform us into soldiers and sneak Penny to the vault? If she needed help, I could have amplified her while keeping Penny stabled, and James wouldn't even notice. Why are we- you know what, bring it on. At least we can knock him out and stop Nora if she tries to kill him. It'll be tough. But we can do it.

Like I said. The most affective upgrade I have every received.

This why we lost to Neo. We really need to work on team attacks.

Oh my god. We won? We beat him?! How the hell are any of these people running a school?! Let only protecting and running a kingdom?! I think I'm starting to realize why my dad didn’t think being huntsman was a good idea.

Okay so instead of standing still how about you all help me out. Ever thought of that bitch? No? Then please don't rush me. Shut your damn mouths?! *sigh* Why? Why did I agree to let her be on the team?  

*sigh* F*** all of you.

Oh no. Please. Please not her again. Once again, another plan that goes terribly wrong. 

Yeah, we definitely not repeating Heaven Academy.

Oh my gosh, Nora where are you?! What is going on out there?! You should be back now!

Okay Jaune calm down. Aright just ignore Penny and continue to heal her. I'm sure Weiss can hold Cinder off long enough for-

Weiss, what are you doing?! You can barely fight with one blade why use two? Oh, my goodness, how did any of you beat the Ace-ops?! Oh man. I-I... Oh oum, she isn't going to last. I-I don't have a choice. This is going hurt.

  So, this is it? I can't believe I'm doing this. Well, I don't have choice because everyone seems to be making dumb decisions. Well at least I might be doing something right. Pyrrha, please forgive me.

[itsivyberry]

no longer his

Mako x f!nonbender!reader

Part 2 of number 1 supporter

request: could you please do a part two of number 1 supporter please. like what happens with Korra added to the picture? 🥺👉👈 (i absolutely loved it btw! great job!!! ❤️❤️❤️) [ @xxspqcebunsxx ]

a/n: thank you so much!!! I’m so glad you wanted another part, I’m so sorry it took so long! enjoy <3

warnings: heartbreak, Korra being a home wrecker and not my favorite person 😬 Mako also being a bitch, Bolin being the best ever. Some major descriptions of physical pain due to strong emotions ig

summary: Korra coming to Republic City not only ruffled many citizens, but also jeopardized Mako and Y/N’s relationship.

word count: 1276

song recs: it’s not the same anymore - rex orange county, another love - tom odell

gif credit: @bolin-hits-rockbottom

Korra coming to Republic City wasn’t all that bad, really. Bolin had already become fast friends with her before he knew her title.

Y/N and Mako were doing just fine, for the most part. Y/N continued to watch the pro-bending matches and practices. The only difference was that Korra began to watch with her, mesmerized by the swift movements of the brothers.

Korra hit it off well with Y/N. Neither of them had any issues, but Y/N made it obvious which one of the brothers was taken. Bolin was very forward with the avatar, making advances to get closer with her. Y/N was rooting him on, while Mako wasn’t the biggest fan of her. Y/N couldn’t quite pinpoint why Mako was such a jerk to her, especially since Korra was so nice to all of them and thanked them profusely for being her first friends in the city. His mood had decreased significantly since she first showed up before one of his matches, and it was taking a toll on Y/N’s attitudes as well.

~.•*✰

When Bolin began to show Korra how to bend during a match, Y/N could notice that she was almost trying to impress Mako with her bending skills. Y/N began to grow extremely insecure, her non-bending suddenly becoming something she was ashamed of. There was never any issues with her not being able to bend, especially when hanging out with Mako and Bolin, but now Korra was suddenly making her very self conscious about herself.

These feelings started piling up. Y/N felt sick whenever she went to pro-bending matches, worried that Mako would suddenly decide to take an interest in her instead of his beloved girlfriend.

It wasn’t long ago when Y/N thought Mako was going to propose, and now some random girl from the Southern Water Tribe showed up, introduced herself as the Avatar, and put a wall between the lovers.

Korra was also leading on Bolin, which made Y/N’s dislike for her grow tremendously. She had been hanging out with him, making advances with him, and accepting every date he threw in her direction, yet still disregarded his attraction to her and used him to get closer to Mako.

Y/N saw right through this, and would often confide in her old friend, Lu, from school that lived in Republic City.

“Maybe the Avatar just wants to be close with an earth bender and a fire bender.” Lu had tried to tell Y/N.

“No, I’m telling you. Bolin really likes her but she’s after Mako. I don’t know why she isn’t understanding that I’ve been with him for a very long time and that he won’t leave me for her.” But oh, how Y/N was so incredibly wrong in that moment.

Not only did Korra manage to break Bolin’s heart, but she soon enough ripped Mako and Y/N’s relationship to pieces when Bolin was on his way to get her flowers.

~•.*✰

“She’ll love these, Bo! They are gorgeous. Don’t you think so, Pabu?” Y/N gushed, picking a flower from the bouquet and lifting it up to the fire ferret who was sitting on her shoulder to smell. Pabu took a big whiff, squeaking and nodding in approval.

“Thanks, Y/N. And thank you, Pabu. Let’s go give these to her! I’m so nervous, but so excited!” Bolin exclaimed, practically vibrating with anxiousness about the girl he really and truly fell for.

As they walked throughout the city to the bending arena, they spoke on and on about anything and everything. Y/N had always gotten along with Bolin famously, which helped boost her and Mako’s relationship.

They reached the arena, and curled around the back near the large patio that overlooks the water and Air Temple Island. The sun had set almost half an hour ago, leaving a gorgeous array of oranges, yellows, and reds in the sky that reflected off the calm water’s surface. City lights were twinkling throughout the sky, and stars began to appear faintly.

“It’s a perfect night to do this. Wish me luck, Y/N/N!” Bolin turned, controlling his breathing and still shaking with anticipation.

Y/N passed Pabu onto his shoulders and adjusted the bouquet. “Good luck, you’ll do amazing. Just tell her how you feel and give her the bouquet!”

“Oh, please walk a bit further with me! You can hide behind one of the pillars, I’m just too nervous!” Bolin gasped out, out of breath from the nerves. Y/N begrudgingly agreed, eager to get upstairs and visit Mako.

She walked slowly along the edge of the railing, keeping an eye on Bolin as he walked.

But, something had stopped him in his tracks. His face grew immensely disappointed, angry, sad, and a whole jumble of emotions Y/N couldn’t name. Tears welled up in his eyes, the dim light on the walls making his eyes glisten. Bolin glanced over at her, his bottom lip trembling.

She hesitantly peeking out from behind the pillar, and was frozen just as much as he was.

There, right in front of the beautiful scenery, was Korra, macking her very own dearest Mako. A small puff of air escaped her lungs as she took a larger step towards the scene, dropped her arms & shoulders in defeat.

The very thing Y/N didn’t think would happen had came true. Her boyfriend, her love, her future, had cheated on her, with the very girl he had absolutely no previous interest of even being friends with.

Bolin blinked, and tears dropped to the marble ground. Y/N was crying now too, as she suddenly watched her future crash and burn. The two ahead of them broke apart, a smile growing on both of their faces.

That was, until Korra had looked behind Mako and saw the two people she was avoiding. Bolin, crying and holding a now messy bouquet that had been ruined by the wind, and Y/N, who was crying watching Korra help Mako cheat on her.

Korra never had any issues with Y/N. She’d always looked up to the girl, who had always gave so much love wherever she went and was never discouraged from people who made fun of her lack of bending abilities. But now, she had ruined any chance of being friends with her after she ruined the beautiful relationship of Mako and Y/N.

Mako was confused, and turned around to meet the eyes of his devastated brother and heartbroken girlfriend.

“Oh, no, no, no-!” Mako said, panic and realization setting in as he reached for his girlfriend. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

He was now running towards her, the tears streaming down her face more visible as he got closer. He stopped in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“I saw everything. This,” Y/N motioned between the two of them, “is over. Don’t ever speak to me again.” She turned and left, crossing her arms over her stomach to try to alleviate some of the pain that was reverberating through her chest.

“Bolin, please!” Mako’s voice cracked, turning to his brother to reason. Bolin angrily threw the bouquet at his feet, more tears falling on the slick ground.

“How could you?” Bolin asked quietly, furrowing his brows at Mako. He quickly turned and followed Y/N, catching up with her to comfort her.

Mako watched, defeated and absolutely broken, as his brother and girlfr- ex girlfriend walked away from him in tears and sorrow.

There was no recovering from this, and he soon realized he lost the love of his life and his very best friend, along with his last remaining family member that he loved so dearly.

And it was all because of the damned Avatar.

~•.*✰

a/n: okay so I really don’t like Korra like at all, I’m sorry if you do but I really don’t like her 😃 she’s my least favorite character in the atla universe so it was only fit that I wrote a literal hate fanfic about her. anyways Mako is a bitch in this but I love Bolin so I hope you enjoyed 🙄 also thank you for requesting, it meant a lot that you wanted more about a small silly little blurb I wrote from a separate request!! love you all <33

[jaws-and-canines]

Hey! I'm Quinns, a genderqueer man. I use they/he pronouns and masculine nouns.

I’m currently working on as always, Count The Days itself.

I write a lot of stories set in one overarching Deadline universe. This is referred to as the Count The Days universe, since that’s the title of the “main story” in it. At the moment, this is a collection of short stories and three main full length books.

Count The Days, which is a story following Chairman-General Haskell Haveter and the consequences he faces after losing his temper and murdering one of his colleagues. Crushed in the jaws of Deadline's legal system, the vain and once-powerful General Haveter struggles to come to terms with the price he must pay for his actions.

Count The Days contains:

Prisoner whump

More hurt than comfort

Enemies-to-lovers

A dishonest/unreliable narrator

All With A Heartbeat Is Not Human follows a young Captain Haskell Haveter through the lawless No Man's Land beyond the Meridian wall to do battle with horrific monsters, humans warped beyond saving by the Phobos pathogen. When the Phobos pathogen starts to mutate, Haveter finds himself in mortal danger and must battle both what remains of those claimed by a disease beyond the understanding of science and the ever-present Republic forces closing in on him.

All With A Heartbeat Is Not Human contains:

Action scenes

Body and natural horror

Military and weaponry themes

General themes of creeping dread

An arrogant little man (affectionate) narrating

Eventually, ties back into Count The Days

Quite a decent bit of "weird horror"

Growing Pains follows Angelo Morrow, one of a very small number of near-superhuman amalgamations of man and machine, an ATLAS-type, and his struggles to fit in in a society inherently distrustful of him.

Growing Pains contains:

A living weapon narrator

Laboratory/medical whump

Found family (eventually)

Although I'm not ballsy enough to go and straight up tag them, here's a silent hat tip to the blogs that really helped me get into the community and made me finally say fuck it and actually make a blog- thank y'all for being such damn good reading.