#I feel very good about this but honesty I’m still gonna call it a wip because I do feel it could be better

[virulent-scum]

okay here it is. You know who she’s facing down. It’s Netvor.

[lemonhobgoblin]

A Casual Night

Mothman x human reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: 7k

(I remember saying I would have a fic done the same week I posted my other fic. Well, that was a lie. After dealing with work, creating new wips, and editing what started as a 2k fic became this long-ass post. I tried to keep this gender-neutral, but if there are any parts thats not gender-neutral, or if something doesn't make sense give me a message and I'll fix it. Anyway hope you enjoy!)

The faint sound of your car running and the sound of the wind whipping against the surface was muddled out by old tunes playing from a random radio station filling the lonely ride home. Your eyes trained on the dark empty road ahead, your headlights on full beam, lighting your way. The subtle notes of a box of cooling pizza wafting in your direction every so often.

You were driving from a city over from where you lived, coming back from a friend’s home who was having a small get-together. It was a great time, unwinding from the stresses of work and life in general, with games, movies, playful banter, and sharing a couple of drinks. As the night progressed, things began to slow down, one of your friends passed out on the couch while everyone else turned to some lighthearted conversation. Leading the host to pipe up if they were willing to spend the night given how late it has gotten and mostly due to how much some people drank.

While everyone was willing to stay the night and continue their night of merriment. You on the other hand as well as one other person had to leave for the night due to work obligations you both had tomorrow morning.

Regretfully, you made your exit not without being offered leftovers for the ride back. But halfway home, you received an email detailing how you were not needed for work tomorrow as you were getting gas.

With this newfound information, you had the choice of making a U-turn back or continue straight home.

Rather than driving back to your friend's home, you were just going to continue your way home. You already said goodnight to them, and you were almost home even though it was still quite a ways to go. Nevertheless, they probably turned in for the night by now, and there was always next time to make it up to them.

So driving down an empty two-way road, with no lights fixture to light the road. With no other cars passing through, keeping you company. Only the trees crowding around the road giving you some sort of haunting looming audience. This was a normally busy road; however, by how late in the night it was, it was understandably dead.

Fortunately, enough, you saw your first signs of life up ahead. It seemed to be a herd of deer passing by. You honked your horn to scare them away from the oncoming danger that was your car.

Except instead of dispersing, they stayed in place, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary why else did they have the saying 'a deer in headlights.'

But what was odd, was the closer you approached the herd of deer they seemed to be floating off the pavement, apparently, they were one entity and not a group and had a pair of red glowing eyes. It stirred an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Promptly, an undiscernible screech erupted all around, jolting you in your seat, feeling a pang of sudden fear washing over you. Convincing yourself it was only the radio going off the fritz, peeling your eyes away from the road you scrambled to shut off the device. During your haste to bring an end to the blaring otherworldly sound, you didn’t realize how fast you were driving.

"What the fuck?!" Seeing a flash of a large dark mass smashing against your windshield - shards of glass flying around and onto you.

Swerving your car over to the side of the road, feeling the right side slope down, the bumps of the grass making you rattle and jostle in your seat. Putting your car to a complete stop.

Frantically, you scrambled to free yourself from your seatbelts, ripping yourself from your constraints, you busted out your car. Not giving a single care to the state of your car or your frazzled state. Only concerned about what or who you hit.

Jogging down, you saw a crumpled figure on the ground, he was a good distance away from where you parked. "Oh my god," You exclaimed.

“I didn’t see you coming, I’m so sorry," you yelled, hurrying to aid the individual. You didn’t get a response or see any movement - he did hit your car pretty hard.

Scared for their wellbeing you slowed down and fished for your phone in your back pocket to call for help. But before you could dial for help, you saw something that put halt to your actions. You starred in disbelief as your phone locked out.

From the figure, a wing stretched out toward the sky before folding back in itself.

What the hell did you hit?!

Cautiously, you crept forward to get a better look, you could see he was wearing a fur jacket. No. He was furry everywhere, dull in color but with an interesting print on what you believed was the wings, the pattern was similar to a moth's wing. A costume perhaps? His legs were a digitigrade structure and his feet are similar to a bird's foot arrangement. The talons of which were scraping against the road like an animal in pain.

"A moth?" Perplexed at what exactly you were looking at, it still seemed human, but it was too large in stature given it curled up on the ground. This had to be some large person in a very convincing costume. Assuming it was someone dressed up, as what you could only think of as Mothman. A random tall person dressed head to toe in an extremely convincing Mothman in the middle of an isolated road, for reasons you couldn't conjure but there had to be a rational reason as to why.

The closer you approached, the more of your rationality began to slip. Carefully you squat down, putting your hands on its back, it felt real. Too real.

The wings felt warm, stroking your hand down, you felt the ridges, bumps, and what felt like a pulse, in the wings. You noticed it had a plush ruff around its neck that could’ve been mistaken for a scarf. And there were antennas on its head, it was featherlike and twitched every few seconds. You had no desire to investigate further, yet you had a gnawing sense of curiosity that compelled you.

Besides what if was someone who was severely injured and needed immediate help. And what kind of person would you be if you just drove off without a second thought, leaving them to die. You couldn't live with yourself if that was the case.

This is too unreal. But all the signs suggested otherwise.

Bracing yourself, you gently turned him over to face you, the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you felt instant regret surge through your veins. You stumbled backward, landing on your back, trying to push yourself away from the massive creature with your legs.

"MOTHMAN!!" You screamed.

This in turn alarmed the cryptid, flapping his wings erratically in response to your sudden outcry. It was emitting these indiscernible sounds that you had heard earlier in the car, it provoked that familiar immense fear within you.

Except, this was louder than when you were in your car, the sound reverberated through you, chills traveling up your spine. You could feel your heart palpitating within your chest, your trembling limbs growing numb. You felt your senses heightened at an alarming rate it was nauseating that you felt your mind blur. If these disquieting sounds alone could trigger your flight or fight response, without the presence of the monster. It was nothing in comparison to the full show that was in front of you, it was overwhelming in all the senses, inciting you to get far as possible.

"Holy shit!" Pulling yourself from your state of shock, you turned over onto your hands and knees, pushing yourself up and away, making a straight beeline to your car without delay.

The screeching stopped behind you. Glancing back toward the monster curious if it was making a move towards you. But all you saw was a poor incapacitated being, pitifully attempting to lift itself away. One of its wings was flapping while the other was barely moving at all. When it tried to move its stiff wing, it wouldn't fully extend before retracting it back, making what sounded like a pained low screech.

In all honesty, even in your fear-driven state, it pained you to witness this distressing scene. Pondering back and forth between taking the car and leaving, or taking your chances with the monster.

Inching toward the car, all without removing your eyes from the scene. Then you heard a more distressing shrill, stopping you dead in your tracks. You couldn't leave him.

He still needs help.

Inhaling a deep breath, you shakily walked back, each step was challenging you felt so weak in the knees and you felt lighter than usual. Your mouth desiccated of any moisture but persisted in swallowing nothing. It felt as if you were walking down to your execution and it might as well be. You couldn't predict what it would do or what it was capable of doing if you got any closer. Regardless, you tried to push your fears aside and help him, even if it killed you.

"Hold on, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just don’t hurt me please." Easing yourself onto your knees, mindful of not doing any sudden movements to provoke it any further for both of your sakes.

Bringing a hand back to where you had it before, you delicately brushed your hand up and down in small strokes on its wing. Focusing on his state and not his appearance, you saw cuts and scrapes littering its wings and body.

You grazed over an open wound, causing the creature to flinch, silently apologizing to him in a hushed tone before continuing to pet him while avoiding any more wounds.

Its breathing began to slow, quelling its jitters. You took this as an indicator of the creature growing at ease at your presence. “See I just wanna help." You whispered as the Moth creature peered up, gazing into your eyes in a sort of mutual understanding. Ensuring a feeling of reprieve within you and within him, or so you thought. It was soon to be proven wrong. The moment was short-lived when the cryptid began to thrash around again, this time trying to keep you away from him.

"Wait I thought we had an understanding there." Pulling yourself into a ball to avoid the cryptid's violent flapping wing and arms recklessly whipping around. "The eye contact we had! The eye contact!" you screamed after being betrayed by this false sense of amicable trust you thought you both had shared at that moment. But this ineffectively did nothing to fix the dilemma, merely adding more to the chaos.

"Please I want to help you." Reaching your hand out to calm him once more, without the screaming and flailing this time. "This was my fault, I wanna help and then you can go on your Mothman way, okay?" You tried to coax. Once more the monster began to quiet down, its quick shallow breathing slowed. Weary of his soothed behavior, you waited a bit before wrapping his arm over your neck.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up or at least try to." You said, guiding him upward into a standing position.

"Christ, you’re heavy!" Bending under the weight, propping him against your frame, so you could get a proper footing and grip on him. You struggled to the car, trudging over, but not without one of your legs giving out from under the weight occasionally. What caught your eye was how his head lulled forward or side to side, he might be disoriented from the blow. Not wanting to move his head much, you trudged much slower than you already were and stopped every few seconds.

Arriving at you your vehicle, you rested against your car, before opening the car door and easing him inside into the backseat. Tucking in any stray limbs and wings fully inside the car. Shutting the door you looked at the heavily cracked windshield. It was damaged pretty well, you summarized that you had to slowly drive all the way home. Wait home.

"Wait, I can't just bring you to my house." You said, bringing a hand to your mouth, realizing a new issue. "Someone's gonna see you." Remembering you lived on a busy street near pubs and shops, and it was Friday night you could only assume there were still people out and about enjoying the nightlife. Peering inside your car, your eyes locked on your jacket in the front seat.

"Maybe I can disguise you, and it is Friday night maybe people would be too drunk to notice."

"As long as we don't draw too much attention." You said, getting into your seat and starting up the engine. But something about saying those words aloud, felt like it was going to bite you in the ass but what’s the worst that can happen, you had him handled.

….

Here you were driving back home with the low-volume melody playing like before. However, this was different, before you were alone and you welcomed the tranquil ambiance you had riding home. But now you were riding back with an elusive creature. Creating an unsettling silence within the vehicle. What was maddening was that you were unsure what he was thinking, making you unsure of what to do besides drive. Maybe you were overthinking this but you felt you had to do something to break this disorienting atmosphere because this was too hard to fathom as reality.

"D-Do you want gum? L-Leftover pizza?" Your voice cracked, quickly clearing your throat asking again in a stronger confident voice.

No response. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, sucking in your cheek prompting you to purse your lips in your endeavor of finding what else to say. Flitting your eyes back and forth from the road to looking around your car on what else to offer.

"My coat?"

No response again.

Looking at your rearview mirror to get a glimpse of the cryptid only to be met with its red eyes staring directly back at you. Hastily looking back to the road and sinking into your seat, alarmed. How long was he staring at you? Why was he staring? At least he seemed less disoriented now, but you didn’t need that right now, maybe you could draw his attention onto something else other than you.

"How about some air?" you asked, hoping he would stare out the window or put his head out, anything but him staring at you all the way home. Gliding your left hand over to the window control panel on the side of your door, you pushed down a button making his window rolled down. This captured his attention, redirecting his gaze towards the open window, watching the trees and road signs passing by. O thank god. but just as he turned his head to the outside, he took this as an invitation to spread his wings to catch some air.

"That doesn't mean you can start flapping, put your wings down." Whipping your head back and forth from the creature to the road, drawing a hand at him, swinging it around to get him to fold his wings down. "PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN! PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN!" Veering your car off to the side of the road.

.....

Back on the road, after sorting out the matter. "Okay, no rolled down windows." You remarked. Mothman looking like a perfect angel in the back tapping at the rolled-up window while you were in the front with your hair messed up and arms lightly scratched. You weren't a mother, but you now had a vague idea of what it would be like and further respect and admiration for them.

Needless to say, you rode the entire way back in silence without a single word being uttered.

…..

Steering your car on the side of the street in front of an apartment complex, you placed your car in park. You turned off the engine. Street lamps and other building lights were illuminating the street. The neon signs from the local business started to shut off, looked like some of them are turning in for the night.

You snatched your jacket from the passenger seat before slipping out and making your way to open Mothman’s car door.

"We need to move, quickly." Throwing your coat over him to conceal him in the event of someone walking by. Mothman pawed at the coat and clutching it closer to get a better look and smell of the material. After gathering your phone and keys, you whirled back toward Mothman. Fussing at him to not move the jacket, readjusting it over his head. You surveyed the streets for anyone coming down or seem like they are heading out in your direction.

Once more putting his arm around you, you strode as quickly as you possibly could to the complex without either of you falling over. Mercifully, you got to the door with no problem at all or bumping into anyone.

Until you heard something you’ve been dreading on the way home, something that made your heart sank down into the deep trenches of your stomach

"Holy shit! Is that Mothman!?!" A male voice exclaimed.

You whirled your head toward the stranger who was slowly approaching you two. Fuck!

Where did he come from and what made him so confident that he’s looking at Mothman. You glanced back over to Mothman noticing that the jacket that was covering his face, was now draped over his shoulders. Drastically you scoured your brain for an excuse or some sort of explanation to counter how this wasn't a cryptid. But he beat you to the punch before you had a chance to find a solid response.

"Dude sick costume!" He said excitedly.

O fuck. Relieved that it wasn't the worse, but you were surprised he didn't question any further especially how close he was to you both. Even you would've questioned, the details and just the overall realism of said 'costume'. It didn't take long for the answer to hit you square in the nose. When a waft of alcohol invaded your nostrils, the man was drunk, and you never were more grateful.

"Thanks." You nervously laughed.

"That’s crazy good man, you did this all yourself?” He asked enthusiastically towards Mothman, beholding every bit of intricacy on the creature.

"He can’t talk right now; he drank too much to function." You interjected. “We just got back from a party.”

"I gotcha, but is it okay if I get a photo though?"

FUCK! you blurted internally, but externally with faux delight, you said "Sure!"

" 'Chad' you cool with that?" you sheepishly asked your moth friend with the first name you could think of for him. And why were you asking him? As if he could make a cohesive verbal response. But you were hoping at this moment he could magically talk, alas all he did was blankly stare.

"I'm not hearing a no." You heard the man say and you woefully agreed.

"Gimme a sec." The man pulled out his phone and tapping it unlocked.

"Okay," your heart was racing in your chest and you could feel a layer of sweat beginning to form and pool in places. But by some sweet grace of some higher being, a miracle happened right before your eyes. You heard a melodious chime sweetly ring through the crisp early fall air.

"O dang getting a call, hold on" the man answered the call, turning his back towards you.

Maybe there was a god, after all, a fucking sadist with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you were not about to pass up this chance for a free getaway.

You took this God-given opportunity to jam your key into the lock swiftly to get the both of you inside. Twisting to unlock the entrance, you could overhear the man to what sounded like him wrapping up his conservation. Turning the knob, you ushered Mothman and yourself inside the apartment complex, but not without throwing a quick apology to the stranger. Slamming your back against the door shutting it closed, a wave of relief washed over you.

"Aw man, that was too close." leaning your head against the door, desperate for a quick breath from your ordeal. You hadn't felt this much adrenaline since, since. You were so winded you couldn't even recall a memory.

Peeling yourself off from the door, feeling ready to make the final steps home. Deceptively though your body wasn’t as ready to move just yet.

"Nope wait." still trying to catch your breath. Doubling over, leaning forward, and resting your hands on your knees. Mothman all the while just tilted his head at you, confused. While you were over there feeling like you were going to be sick. The wave of nausea quickly fading away allowing you to straighten yourself out.

"Okay, we're good." You said as you grabbed his hand leading him up the stairs. Unbeknownst to you, the large creature was zoning in at the unfamiliar contact.

During his entire time with you, he was just as wary of you as you were with him. He wasn’t one to present himself to people, only as a forewarning of what was to come or an indication that Mothman will be the very last thing they would see. He trailed and stalked others like you in your car but was never hit, that was a first for him. Albeit though, him getting hit with your car, leaving him cut up and bruised did give him another reason to be extremely defensive and antsy around you.

Yet, you were gentle, loud but gentle with him when he wasn’t. Risking your safety in an effort for him to get mended. Lightly ghosting his thumb over the soft skin of your hand, tightening his hold on you. But you didn't notice, you were too preoccupied with climbing higher up the stairs, vigilant for any neighbors.

"Come on we're almost to my place." Giving a reassuring hand squeeze.

"Try to stay quiet a little longer." Peering back at the cryptid flashing him a quick warm smile, before looking back straight ahead. The creature looked directly at you, then to stairs, and back to you again. He came up with a grand idea to help with your effort. But first, he had to gain your attention and for this to work, he had to disregard everything you told him not to do earlier. The cryptid started to emit his screech directly at you to get your attention. And to you, he was making a ruckus, that was echoing through the entire stairwell and halls.

"What part of stay quiet do you not understand?" Grimacing at the noise. You stopped your movement, aiming to cover his mouth with your free hand, you felt his mandibles tickling underneath your palm.

The creature pulled your hand away and into his own, clutching both of his hands close to himself, bringing you into him. This gesture was unexpected and left you feeling warm in the face by how close he was pressing you into him. But it didn't last long when he began to bend his knee and flap his wing readying himself to fly up.

"Wait don't" Pushing yourself away from him, you freed yourself from his grasp to stop his actions. He was still injured this would only cause more harm to him and to you if he tried doing what you thought he was about to do. In your effort to stop him, Mothman tried to reach out for you again, only for his wing to smack into you causing you to land on the hard edge of the concrete stairs; headfirst. “Shit."

Groaning, "Well, I deserved that." you brought your hand to your head, you winced at the touch. As you yanked your hand away you caught a glimpse of red in your peripherals. Bringing the hand in your line of vision you saw blood smeared on the tips of your fingers.

Mothman immediately brought his actions to a halt when he saw what he had done to you. His antennas drooped down, he came close, giving you a hand up. Gladly accepting the gesture, he brought you up to an upright position, he felt bad for what he had done to you. Tentatively, he brought a hand up, lightly swiping his claws over your forehead making a low pained screech.

“It’s okay, you just wanted help didn’t you.” He nodded in response, you pressed a hand to the wound preventing the blood from dripping down. You couldn’t be mad at him he didn’t know better, and you did hurt him first, it only felt fair. Disrupting this tender moment, you heard yelling and heavy footsteps approaching one of the doors on the floor you were on.

"Let’s go!" you rushed up the stairs, luckily for you both it was the final flight of stairs. Reaching the top of steps in record time when you heard the front swing door open.

"What's with all that commotion!?" A neighbor yelled upward toward the sound of your feet stomping up. Coming to an abrupt halt at your door, you whispered for Mothman to stay where he was, while you dealt with the matter below. But he decided to follow behind instead, not wanting to leave your side.

"Sorry I was just goofing" You admitted, showing your face over the rail, outing yourself to your neighbor.

"Sorry my ass, I got work early tomorrow, you expect me to sleep with this fucking racket outside, and now this." They argued back, and rightly so, who wouldn’t complain about an unearthly ear-piercing screech penetrating through the halls along with banging sounds hitting all around the walls. But you couldn’t help but feel annoyed

"I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, promise." You leaned forward resting against the rail while one leg was kicked up behind you, preventing Mothman from coming toward the railing. You exchanged a few more words with your neighbor to avoid the landlord getting involved. Finishing up, you pulled yourself away calling it wraps on the conversation as the individual below continued spewing profanities at you and about the building.

You unlocked and opened your door “In! In! In!" You shoved the imposing cryptid inside, already getting peeved by the neighbor's continuous rambling. It wasn’t anything new they hated everyone in the building, but it wasn’t something you grew used to though.

"Jesus Christ finally." you sighed, kicking the door behind shut.

Slipping off your shoes, leaving them by the entrance, your feet ached in relief from its constructing confines. Dragging yourself through the small hall leading the way to the main part of your home, it was small but cozy.

"Here we are home sweet home." you chimed, leading Mothman further into the living room, grabbing the jacket from him and tossing it to the couch. As well as turning on a lamp to properly illuminate the room. It didn't take long for Mothman to be drawn to the light fixture like the moth he was. He grabbed the lamp hugging it towards him, looking directly at the bulb. Chuckling at the sight, you could’ve given him a flashlight on the way home if he was going to be this mesmerized. You proceeded to make your way to the kitchen for your first aid kit.

"You can make yourself comfortable, but don’t wreck anything please," you shouted from the room over, but Mothman was unbothered, he was solely transfixed on the soft light, eyes wide and grabbing at the lampshade. "I'm gonna go find my first aid kit to fix you and my cut." You really hoped nothing else gets broken, there was already enough screaming and thrashing for the night.

Shuffling through the kitchen, trying to remember where you last placed the kit. You rested and slid a hand over the cool smooth linoleum counter, looking between cabinets for any sign of a small box. Coming to the last cabinet, you rummaged through before finally pulling out your first aid kit.

But you couldn’t help but stop and think about tonight’s events. It started as a fun night, then filled with pure dread, mothering, and now what felt like taking care of a drunk long-time friend. Except, what really dominated your mind was this odd feeling you started to feel, you recounted back in the hall the way he held you close. It made you feel bashful, to say the least. Up to now, you saw him as a friendly harmless dare you say, an unexpected friend. But that didn’t accurately describe what you were feeling. Shaking your heading, you had other pressing matters to attend to.

"Got it, let's see." And not to your surprise you saw the tall cryptid sitting on the couch, clutching the lamp close to him as if it was his lifeline. You contemplated whether you should take the lamp away. But he looked to be enjoying the light source, hearing faint happy chirps emitting from him. Sadly, you decided to ruin his fun, seeing as there were wounds you needed to tend to on his chest and you needed the light to properly see them.

You attempted to pull the lamp away so you could have better access to examine his injuries. In response, he chittered in objection to his lamp being taken, and nothing was going to separate him from his precious lamp. He was going to soon learn that the lamp was barely holding onto the outlet. Hugging it closer to himself, the plug came out, extinguishing the light. Perplexed as to where his light disappeared to, he presented the lamp towards you hoping you would bring the light back.

“I’ll bring it back, but only until I get a look at you.” He nodded vigorously as you grabbed the lamp and setting back on the mini table, blindingly trying to find the plug and inserting back into the outlet turning on the lamp again. You sat on the couch next to him, motioning for him to come closer so you could get to work.

......

"I don’t see any major cuts or anything broken." Scouting out the state of the injuries, they were honestly not that bad, you guessed it was probably due to the now dried flaky blood around his cuts gave the appearance that they worse than what they were. He got pretty lucky but it was probably due to his build that he was capable of taking on more than a couple of hits.

"Only just a sprain and a couple of cuts, that’s a relief" Thinking to yourself glad it wasn't any worse, you couldn't imagine the stress of trying to keep him at your apartment while he heals, and away from your neighbors’ eyes. The fear of him getting caught and taken away and dissected. Being bombarded by officials and Mothman lovers. And getting questioned or probed, maybe even both. You didn’t know if they would, but you knew deep in your heart they would probe you for answers. Stopping your paranoid-filled train of thought from delving any further. You finished tying up a couple of loose ends and sticking on on salve on minor areas.

"See all better. Don’t move too much, it'll heal quickly that way" Gathering any trash to throw away. Everything is fine now; you don’t have plans tomorrow so you could probably sneak him back out the next night.

Huh.

Letting him go. The idea of it should have given you some relief and yet you couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Would he come to visit again? No that would be reckless. Or you could convince him to stay longer to heal, no that would be irresponsible and selfish of you. He deserves to go back, and you're going to help him get back on his feet and let him be on his way. You walked back to the room.

“Feel much better?” you inquired to Mothman who busy was playing with the bandages on him.

He looked directly at you and nodded in response.

"That’s good, the sooner you get better the sooner you can leave," you told him, seating yourself back next to Mothman who hasn’t kept his eyes off of you. You peered up to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to capture him looking directly at you with his head tilted.

Not this again. you thought.

He’s certainly not making this any easier. You looked away trying to focus on anything else in the room before you resorted to looking at the floor.

"You know it’s still kinda crazy, that this is even real. Like I feel like I’m going insane," you jokingly confessed to Mothman, laughing to yourself. But you thought about it more, maybe you were, "O my God is this what a psychological break is?" You looked back at him, having an unfazed look on him.

"Can I?" you asked reaching a hand forward. He stared at your hand for a bit, until he leaned forward giving you permission to proceed.

"So soft" allowing yourself to fully feel him, combing your hand through his dark fur and traveling up his ruff. It was surprisingly plush for how it looked, it felt you were touching a cloud but with some tiny debris within it. You gathered more courage to let your hand wander up to his face, giving a couple of brushes before stopping your motion, cupping the side face. His eyes were a brilliant red color comparable to a lustrous gem.

"You really are real." You muttered, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

Mothman brought a clawed hand to your face in a likewise manner, curious of your own features. Where for him he found them peculiar and to other individuals such as yourself they found it normal. The universe was messed up, making it much harder for you to separate yourself from him when the time comes for him to leave, but you allowed this, forgetting your initial plan.

Feeling a sharp claw gliding up against your skin, perfectly capable of nicking you or doing so much worse to you than you could imagine. But he had no intention to do so, merely entranced by you.

His hand wandered up to your forehead, where your gash was, flaky and dried the blood was chipping at the edges. His antennas lowered and chirped in response, for what he did to you back at the stairwell, he didn't mean to. Even if you said it was alright, it still didn’t make him better, bringing a hand to skim the wound, you flinched at the sharp pain of your forgotten injury, knocking you out of your trance-like state.

Mothman drawing back in his seat, alert and worried thinking he hurt you again.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

You reached a hand out to calm him, you aimed for his arm but managed to miss and land your hand on his thigh. Wow, that’s great! you internally cringed feeling a blush rush over you, instead of pulling back you still tried to alleviate him by patting his leg, telling him it was the injury that was hurting you not him.

Instead of defusing his concerned mindset, he only tried to push away from you to avoid causing you any further harm. Hand still anchored on his thigh, you launched yourself trying to stop him from hurting himself more.

Fortunately, with your luck, you ended up top of him, Mothman laying on the couch while you hovered over him, with both of your legs planted on either side of his thigh. Your left knee was alarming close to his crotch if you moved an inch closer you would be bumping your knee right into it. Your hands rested squarely on his chest, finger splayed out as you looked down at him with a similar wide-eyed expression.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Maintaining your effort of trying to console Mothman, you coughed to clear your throat and your mind of any dirty thoughts from springing up. “Hey, I know you didn’t mean to, and if you did, I would tell you and- and I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that you hurt me and I’m sorry for hitting you with my car, I feel like saying it doesn’t do justice for what I did.” You panted after your long-winded speech.

“Also, I’m sorry for tackling you down that wasn’t my intention. So, you good? I didn’t hurt you?”

He slowly shook his head, as a response that you didn’t hurt him. Startled yes. Hurt no. Bobbing your head in understanding, you carefully crawled off him.

"Well, I guess I should go get the blood washed off, I'll be right back." You informed the still cryptid who made no effort of getting up, just continued to lay on the couch staring straight ahead in shock.

Walking off to clean off the blood and to regain your composure. You were just going through too many emotions than you should for the night. On your way to take care of your problem, you could’ve sworn you heard something akin to a cat purring where Mothman was. But you blew it off and justified it as hearing the blood rushing and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

Striding down a hall and into the bathroom you turned the faucet on allowing the water to flow into the sink and onto your hands. Water pooled in your cupped hands before splashing the cold water onto your face, the water, and dried blood dripping together down around the curves and grooves of your face into the porcelain bowl below. It was a satisfying contrast to your heated face, splashing another round of water at your face but an intrusive memory replayed the moment that happened a few seconds ago. Leaving your face buried in your hands, groaning from sheer embarrassment. Fucking hell why am I like this?!

Unwillingly you slid your hands off and look at yourself in the mirror you looked like the accurate personification of a hot mess. You weren’t going to think too much into this, you are going to pretend what happened didn’t happen, you were going to disinfect and stick a bandage on your cut and not dwell on your emotions around the situation at hand. Allowing him to leave as soon as he is better and not have any other affiliations with him again.

Opening the medicine cabinet for an alcohol wipe and unwrapping the wipe from its small packaging.

"Now for the worst part." Quietly hissing at the contact with the antiseptic. Finishing up on cleaning the wound, you foraged through the cabinet looking for a bandaid. Noting there wasn’t one to be found, you sighed.

Guess I need to go find one.

Turning toward the door to walk out, you looked up and saw Mothman standing at the doorway, watching.

How long was he standing? And how the hell is he so silent for such a big guy and why wasn't he like this before? You were about to question him what he was doing here or if needed something when you noticed he was fiddling with a band-aid in hand. Slowly he brought it up, placing it over your cut.

"Thanks." Laying a hand over the band-aid, feeling not just your cheeks warming up but now a butterfly feeling in your stomach, solidifying your emotions for him.

So much for my plan.

Weaseling past him, before enthusiastically asking him, "Well, we got time to pass, so what do you want to do?"

…..

The sun rays bled through the curtains lightening up your home, the light seeping past your eyelashes and into your eyelids forcing you to wake up. Blinded by the light, you groaned in discomfort, pushing yourself up hearing a couple pops in your back. Rubbing a hand up and down your face trying to wipe away the sleep.

What the hell happened here? Why was there glass everywhere? Looking up you saw your window smashed in with only a few jagged pieces in place around the sides. Turning your attention away you looked around the room, wasn’t there someone else here. O yeah.

But the question was, how did you end up falling asleep on the floor, and where was the large cryptid. Wait a minute.

…

"No, you can't go out, you're still hurt." Trying to hold him back from going through the window. Everything was fine, you both were sitting on the couch, watching whatever, and snacking on fruit, and next, you found yourself asleep but woke up to a ruckus, the tv still on, and seeing Mothman trying to rip the curtain off the window nearby. Jumping to action to stop him, he successfully pulled off the curtains along with the rack, you assumed he was trying to leave even though he wasn’t better or so you thought.

And here you were struggling to hold him back, you thought he was difficult before but now that he fully adjusted and patched, you fully experienced that he was pure indomitable power.

"At least wait till the street is clear." You insisted, noticing some people walking or jogging down the street in the dark early morning. But he didn't listen he was adamant in making his exit. So, you made the decision to let him go.

"Okay, okay at least let me get the window, I don’t want glass on the floor." Racing in front of him to slide the window open. A quick gust of wind whipped against your face, causing you to squint your eyes in response.

"There! AH-!" the last thing you saw was Mothman coming at you and the last thing you felt was his frame bulldozing you down by fast approaching torso.

…

"O right." That explains how you ended up on the floor and the glass strewn all over the floor. More incredibly, even when you opened the window, the creature still managed to break the window in its haste to leave. Your head was pounding, he really is a force to be reckoned with. Bringing a hand to your head, you winced at the contact to your forehead but noticed something else. Delicately raising a hand back to your forehead and skimming along the surface. There was the band-aid from the stairwell and on the other side was another. You didn’t remember adding when did you?

Oh.

……

"My window," you muttered groggily, your vision fading out not before the moth creature gave his assistance to you for the last time and a thanks to you by sticking a band-aid on your sure-to-be bruised noggin as you lulled into an unconscious state.

……

At least bug boy was nice enough to get you another band-aid when he put you out cold, before making his exit. Slowly standing up to get started on assessing the mess and knowing full well that you needed to inform your landlord of the window. You peered out the window, curious of any indication of Mothman to spot, unfortunately, all there was to see the was hustle and bustle of the city around and below.

Turning your attention back to the mess, maybe you could make a fib of some large man drunk man pretending to be Mothman breaking into your home believing it was his. Sighing, you went to grab a broom to clean up the mess, at least you were able to encounter a real living and breathing legend. Made you wonder if other cryptids exist, but you’re pretty sure handling one creature was enough for now after last night.

Finishing up, you gathered all the shards and brought them to the trash. You didn’t have work for today, which gave you the opportunity to get a breather and get things done. Making your way to your room and getting ready for the day.

As you were getting clothes on and getting a good look at yourself in the mirror. There square above your eyes and your right eye was a bruise evident from last night's escapades. Shaking your head, laughing to yourself you weren’t going to be able to cover up the contusion. Bringing a hand to your head, you couldn’t help but smile at the cryptids' cute gesture. Walking out of the restroom deciding to let the shiner shine, ready to do some damage control.

Grabbing your keys, and heading out the door, and yet you couldn't stop thinking of that little moth guy. What are the chances of seeing him again? Probably unlikely, a mere once in a lifetime chance but you were grateful to encounter a sweet bug boy like him.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

I’ve accumulated a bunch of these in the last few weeks, so here’s the compilation:

Hey, can I recommend this modern AU of oblivious lwj being friends with benefits with wwx? It’s sooo good. I’m not the author but this is a must read. Honesty is the best policy by piecrust!! Happy reading 

[Oh, that sounds so yummy.  Actually, someone else had recced it with the comment, “Ahhh god, my heart still aches reading this. Just the realisation of feelings, WWX being the one to pine and get his heartbroken and aching and LWJ gradually coming to accept his feelings??? MY HEART HURTS SO MUCH???” so I’ll bump it up in my queue....]

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole)

by piecrust

E, 22k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Zhan hadn't meant to fall in love with his fuck buddy, it was just that Wei Wuxian was annoying and talented and too pretty for his own good. 

~*~

@this-is-nathali​​​ says, “Hi, Mojo, I just wanted to drop by and rec a fic I recently fell in love with that I think you and your followers might enjoy too. It’s called “A Narrow Bridge” by FrameofMind and Jo Laselle. It’s a well-written, engaging narrative that follows LWJ as he time travels back to Qiongqi path and decides to join WWX and the Wen remnants back to the burial mounds. The fic is already written, and the authors are releasing one chapter a week. It’s rated E, with 68K so far, and it’s a wonderful read. ☺️” [Oooh, I have subscribed, I love Jo Laselle!]:

A Narrow Bridge

by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)

E, 68k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again.

~*~

OMG HAVE YOU READ "All Caught Up" by brooklinegirl?!!!! IT'S SO SWEET AND HOT AND SWEET ANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

All Caught Up

by brooklinegirl

E, 37k, wangxian

Summary:  "Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

~*~

*hollering* If you want the softest, sweetest, loveliest, everything-is-beautiful-and-nothing-hurts Wangxian, then boy DO I HAVE THE FIC FOR YOU! The Thrill Of Knowing, by starmins. Read it. Cry. In a good way. Kudos, comment, bookmark it!

the thrill of knowing

by starmins

M, 32k, wangxian

Summary:  Lamplights flicker orange and yellow, stars blinking in and out of sight. If Wei Ying closes his eyes, he can trace the curls of Lan Zhan's eyelashes from memory, map the lines of his palm, tap out the rhythm of his heartbeat.

or; Being known doesn't feel so scary, Wei Ying thinks, if it means being known by Lan Zhan.

~*~

I was wondering if the following reminds you of any fic you've read. I've seemed to lost the name in my bookmarks: LWJ is living with WWX post-canon but is anxiously wondering when/if WWX will leave, since WWX never unpacked his bag and the Jingshi is clean and tidy. It ends with them talking it out and the Jingshi showing signs of WWX living there too :) ... ... Hi just wanted to let you know I found the fic I was looking for-about how LWJ worrying that WWX wasn’t unpacking despite living together. It was “Take Root, Come Home” by piecrust.

Take Root, Come Home

by piecrust

G, 4k, wangxian

Summary:  Living with Wei Ying is a dream come true – Lan Wangji has nothing to complain about…

Except.

Except one thing. A small… thing.

~*~

Rec: I just read 'I is for Instinct' by beeswaxing and I loved it! It's an alpha/omega modern era AU and it's very funny and cute and tongue-in-cheek for most of it with some angst towards the end because WWX is always gonna get himself into trouble, but (speaking as someone with high anxiety) it's manageable. Other than that it is such a fun read. Bonus - Madame Yu and Lan Qiren being chill and good friends.

I is for Instinct

by beeswaxing

E, 71k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Zhan has always assumed he is a beta like his uncle. While his brother had presented as an alpha quite late at 16, Lan Zhan has already passed the age of even his brother’s late development and he has never personally heard of anyone presenting any later than that. Still uncomfortable in his own skin, he rebels in small ways like dyeing his hair and refusing to live in the on-campus apartment with his older brother as is their right, choosing instead to room in the dorms like the other students. A child borne from an uncontrolled and unwanted mating, he is forced to rethink his own prejudice against the phenomena when an uncomfortable experience at the university’s op shop eventually leads him to question his own ideas of genuine mates and love. 

~*~

You should include "Love - all" by vastlyunknown to the modern sports AUs fic rec, it's amaaaazing!!!

love - all

by vastlyunknown

M, 19k, wangxian

Summary:  "But if Lan Wangji thinks that Wei Wuxian is beneath him, or if Lan Wangji's principles and integrity are challenged beyond what he can bear... if Wei Wuxian is left alone... he doesn't know what he'll do. Sometimes, he thinks he can only bear the world's wrath because he has Lan Wangji by his side. Then he remembers that he basically dragged Lan Wangji kicking and screaming (or rather, glaring and huffing) into this strange friendship and his own beliefs crumple."

OR

six times the media has talked about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's rivalry and one time they talk to the media about it.

~*~

The first arc of the Being Known series is now complete! author is dragongirlG. It's an AU where teenage LWJ and WWX drunkenly get engaged and end up in a formally arranged betrothal. It's so hilarious and such a great character study with revolving POVs. Highly recommend!  [Oh, I’m so excited about this, I love this author, hooray!]

Being Known

by dragongirlG

M, 43k, 3 works, series in progress

Summary:  Teenage Lan Wangji drunkenly confesses his lust for Wei Wuxian during the guest disciple lectures at the Cloud Recesses and wakes up betrothed to him by way of forehead ribbon. It all goes from there.

Arc 1: The Cloud Recesses is now complete! Read Parts 1-3 for the teenage shenanigans.

~*~

can i recommend “cartwheels in the cloud recesses” as a non-yunmeng wwx? its a short series where his parents are alive and he creates chaos while studying in gusu [Oooh, I hadn’t seen this, but this author has written other good stories, so I’m subscribed!]

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses

by ShanaStoryteller

no rating, 13k, 4 works, series in progress

Summary:  Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren don’t die. Some things change. Some things don’t.

~

It's a beautiful day in Cloud Recesses and you are a horrible guest disciple.

~*~

@theladypeartree​​ said, “I've been wondering for a while if you've read this fic, but then time travel fix it came up and it wasn't there. 'And Time is But a Paper Moon' by Sami. It's so good and so well written, that I don't even think of it as an au, rather as post canon continuation of the original storyline. And the author has gone on to create an entire universe to completely immerse yourself!! Hope you like it! ❤❤❤”

[Not yet, but I NEED to.  I was waiting for the whole series to finish, but I’ve been told that it’s not necessary.]

And Time Is But a Paper Moon

by sami

M, 139k, wangxian

Summary:  "Zewu-Jun. You once told me about a house surrounded by gentians, where you visited once a month, and how Lan Zhan still waited there, even when the door no longer opened."

Xichen feels light-headed. He feels shocked, and angry. He has never told anyone such a thing, but Lan Zhan is giving Xichen a look of utter betrayal.

"You told him?" Lan Zhan whispers. "When?"

Wei Wuxian takes Lan Zhan's hand. "About twenty years from now."

Wei Wuxian starts again from the beginning.

~*~

@rosethornewrites​​ said, “I have two time travel fics, if you’re interested in checking them out. The first is a one shot that I may or may not expand later, entitled “ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water.” The other is an unfinished multi chapter fic entitled “the thing with feathers.”

[I’m so sorry I let this sit in the Inbox for 2 weeks:  I generally try to put author announcements up right away, since, as an author myself, I know how painful it is to feel ignored when it’s about your babies!!!  And also, I have subscribed!]

ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water

by RoseThorne

G, 1k, wangxian

Summary:  Being in the Cloud Recesses facing his fifteen-year-old self, surrounded by other fifteen year olds, many of them long dead in his time, is… sadly not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.

the thing with feathers

by RoseThorne

G, 28k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  A night hunt gone wrong leaves Wei Wuxian facing life without a husband and son. He refuses. Using an experimental array, he attempts temporal transmigration, but it goes wrong. Tags to be added as needed. Will likely update slowly.

Note: this is largely based on CQL, with minor bits from the novel and anime because canon? What canon?

~*~

@scifikimmi​​ said, “Wahhh mojo look at this fic its so cute”

I could drink a case of you and still be on my feet

by failedcharismacheck

T, 7k, wangxian

Summary:  Looking between Lan Zhan, so clearly pleased with himself, and the orange in his hand, Wei Wuxian cannot help but burst into a fit of poorly-contained laughter.

"Ah, what a hearty meal you've provided for me, Hanguang-Jun!" he sighs as the giggles subside. As far as Lan Zhan’s drunken preoccupation with giving away food goes, this is a bit of a downgrade from two whole, extremely fresh chickens. Or perhaps Wei Ying has simply become spoiled.

(Wei Wuxian comes back from his walkabout. Lan Wangji gives Emperor's Smile another try and worries for his friend's dietary habits.)

~*~

@allthosesadtimes​​ said, “Heyy I wanted to rec this certain fic I'm not sure if it was posted or I just missed it but this is the funniest shit I've read so far. It's an SNL au though I've rarely watched it ,the context is not hard to comprehend .The fic is just plain hilarious . Love the author (and I personally think she might actually be a writer in some comedy show)”

live from new york

by varnes

E, 87k, wangxian

Summary:  Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

-

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

~*~

@dulachodladh​​ said, “I'd like to recommend the fic Winter Moon, White Rabbit by nachttour if that's ok? It's a/b/o and would describe it more as a mystery fic. The author's worldbuilding is amazing. Summary of the story is that lwj whilst pregnant, randomly turns up at wwx's doorstep in the middle of the night surprising wwx as the two of them lost contact with each other during their school years.” [Oh, I’m excited!]

Winter Moon, White Rabbit

by nachttour

E, 43k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  Wei Ying knew a nice boy when he was young - quick and smart and pale like a rabbit. He went off to high-school and Wei Ying went to work.

Years later, a pale man with golden eyes has appeared at his door.

Or: After his disappearance from Wei Ying's life at 12, Lan Zhan shows up outside of his apartment at three in the morning, pregnant and with only the clothes on his body. There is a mystery to unravel if Wei Ying can realize that it is there.

~*~

I would like to rec The End of Akira by akaidemic. It's a dystopian future AU from lwj's pov. He gets selected for the "equal life initiative" where two people enter a room and have to decide among themselves who of them gets to live. What got me about this fic was a) excellent writing that felt almost dreamlike, b) budding feelings between wangxian in an absolute worst-case scenario and c) an ending that left me in tears. (Warning for major character death and what is at best a hopeful ending) [Looks deliciously painful!]

The End of Akira

by akaidemic

T, 9k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji had never expected to be picked for the 2034 Equal Life Initiative, a government initiative to control population growth. He could only hope his assigned partner would be worse than him.

The rules were simple:

Two people enter. One person leaves.

~*~

What do you think of any Ice/Figure skating AUs youve read? I recently read "put our dreams through the shredder" by Rinnoa, and its not finished but it was So good [I’ve subscribed!]

put our dreams through the shredder

by Rinnoa

T, 103k, wangxian, WIP

Summary:  Wei Ying, a disgraced figure skater, had skillfully avoided his past for the last seven years. He was perfectly content living a mediocre life in the sleepy town of Yiling alongside his best friends and sons, away from the corruption and schemes of the community he had once belonged to.

His treacherous demon of a child had different plans, though. Ones that involved a video of him skating one of Lan Wangji’s most well-known programs and tagging the man in the post.

But it wasn’t like anyone would be able to recognize him after such a long time. Right?

[melancholic-pigeon]

WIP Wednesday #12

Set shortly after Percy and Jason meet in freshman year of high school (14/15 years old). Content warnings for domestic violence, child neglect and abuse, alcoholism and food insecurity.

"That's horrifying. You know that's horrifying, right? Please tell me you know that's horrifying." 

Sally hears Percy's voice before she gets to the kitchen. She's heard it like that before, and it never means anything good. 

She makes her footfalls heavier so that the boys aren't startled by her approach. She's ready to appear in the doorway and smile like she didn't hear a thing and ask them how their studying is going and if they'd like a snack— but Percy cuts her off before she can even open her mouth. 

"Can Jason borrow you for a second? I'm trying to prove a point." 

She looks at the two of them, textbooks and notepads and mechanical pencils spread out on the table. From the work on the paper, they haven't done much more than they had the last time she checked in, an hour or so ago. 

Percy's frenetic, though he's trying to hide it. She doesn't know Jason all that well yet, but he's sitting very still, and she gets the feeling he's holding something in, too.

"If he'd like to, certainly." She rinses out her mug and puts on the kettle, her back to them so that Jason has a second to think about it. "Hot cocoa or tea?" 

When she turns around, his face has changed. Not by much, but she can see a tiny shade of nervousness. 

"Cocoa, please. Thank you." 

He's almost painfully polite, much more so than a fourteen year old boy should be in such a casual setting. She keeps hearing her son in her head, and tries not to speculate on what he found horrifying. 

"It really wasn't that bad." 

"I'm gonna make the cocoa." Percy gets up from the table in an explosive movement. "Because otherwise, I'm just gonna interrupt you every two seconds to tell you that it was worse than you're making it out to be."

Jason rolls his eyes, but it makes him relax a little, too. 

"I never said the whole thing wasn't bad, just that I didn't suffer. All of the really terrible parts happened to Thalia, not me. She made sure of that." 

Percy makes an indignant noise. There's a picture starting to form in Sally's head, patchworking together from the pieces she already has, and she doesn't like it. 

"You don't have to say anything until you're ready, sweetheart." 

She doesn't even think about it. It's second nature with Percy's friends by now. Jason, she reminds herself, has only been around for four months; his eyes widen, like it's the first time anyone has ever called him that. 

Maybe it is. Maybe that's why he's so nervous. 

Percy clatters around behind them. She can hear the kettle starting to rumble and the soft exhalation from across the table. 

"It seriously wasn't," Jason repeats, like he's trying to assure himself more than Sally. 

She can remember thinking the same thing, going through the same process, telling herself that at least her first husband only used his fists. 

"Tell her what you told me," Percy insists over the clinking of the spoon as he stirs the cocoa. 

Jason meets Sally's eyes, with a vulnerability she hasn't seen him wear so plainly.

"I don't know how much Thalia's said about it. I'd assume not a whole lot. There's stuff she still won't tell me, either." 

"She's trying to protect you." Percy puts Jason's mug across from him and takes his seat again. "And she's allergic to sharing her anxieties, for a much better reason than I thought." 

"It's a habit. She was maybe nine years old, tops, when she started shoving it all down." Jason frowns, running his fingers over the handle of his mug. "I didn't have a clue how bad it actually was, because she hid it from me. All I knew was that when Mom was gone for a while, we'd play a game where we'd hunt for all of her empty bottles and cans, and Thalia would let me win and take us to the gas station and buy me a snack as a prize so I wouldn't whine at her while she was getting the rest of our groceries." 

There aren't really any good possibilities in a situation like this, but Sally's heart still plummets into her gut. 

"He thought it was fun," Percy mutters darkly. "Like a field trip where he got treats, instead of his third-grade sister stealing, skipping meals and collecting booze receptacles to exchange for coin deposits because their mom was too busy getting plastered to feed them and their dad cared more about his reputation than the welfare of his children."

There are a million things she could say, including every word that's come out of Percy's mouth so far. He's looking at her, weighed down by the same helpless rage he often carries when they talk about things like this. She feels it too, just as bitterly, though she's no longer apt to show it on her face like that.

"That's awfully young to be left on your own," she tells Jason, taking his hand. She can feel her eyes stinging as he squeezes back, hard, his jaw held tense. "And kids notice. It was hard on you, too, even if you didn't know why." 

She feels Percy grab her free hand under the table. She'd tried everything she could think of to shelter him— and all he learned from it was how to keep his own secrets from her. 

If she hadn't found his stash of concealer and powder, she'd never have known he'd somehow learned the same trick she used. If he hadn't walked in on her with the palettes in her hands and tears streaming down her face, he never would have known it wasn't just him.

They don't keep secrets anymore. It's terrifying, but it's worth it; with honesty comes trust, and now Percy doesn't try to hide when something's wrong. At least not with her. 

"Sometimes I wonder if that's why she's so tiny." Jason stares into his cocoa, still holding onto Sally's hand. "I don't think I went to bed hungry more than once or twice. Thalia used to do it all the time. She'd tell me she ate while I was asleep, and since I was, like, two, I didn't know any better but to believe her." 

Suddenly, Sally understands why Thalia was crying so hard.

("He's gotten so tall— I couldn't feel his ribs—")

She can still vividly remember staring at the cupboards while her little boy clawed at her leg, realizing there wasn't enough for them both and she was still two days away from getting paid. She went that long once, and only broke her fast because she fainted at work. 

Her manager— one of the rare good ones she'd had— had kept her clocked in, hauled ass across the street to buy her a peanut butter milkshake and made her sit in his office and rest for the remainder of her shift. After that, he worked hard to push through the promotion that the store manager kept finding excuses to avoid, and with it came enough of a pay raise that she didn't have to do it more than once or twice a month. 

She'd been twenty-four at the time. Thalia wasn't even in double digits, apparently.

"I'm okay, Ms. Jackson. It was a long time ago." 

She realizes she's tearing up only when Jason cuts through her thoughts. He's smiling, and he really does look healthy and cared for, if a little coltish.

"Honey." She lets go of his hand to grip his shoulder, her grip almost as tight as her throat. "I'm not your teacher. I'm a friend who wishes she could go back in time and adopt you. Please call me Sally." 

It lightens the mood like a match illuminating total darkness. Jason slumps in the chair with a breathless laugh, glancing nervously at her. 

"It's a hard habit to break, but I'll try." 

She wants nothing more than to pull him into a hug, but she doesn't want to spook him. She smiles back at him instead, as warmly as she can possibly manage.

"Trying at all is something to be proud of." 

-Untitled WIP from Sally's POV! stellarverse AU, shortly after Jason and Percy meet freshman year of high school. Some additional excerpts of published fics for context below the cut.

On the one hand, it makes him giddy to expose Jason to unconditional parental support, but on the other, the fact that he has to go to Percy's parents for that support because he can't get it from his own is spittle-frothingly rage-inducing. 

When they're at home, the only thing they have to worry about is not getting too handsy in front of the baby or scarring Percy's parents for life, or at most, doing the dishes because Jason felt it was his duty as guest. He'd vehemently insist, saying it was the only way he could think of to express his gratitude, which would make Percy's mom tear up and hug him tight and tell him that being good to her firstborn was all the thanks she needed. 

She's always liked Jason, and she's always worried about him, too. She's certainly heard enough of Percy's ranting to stay on top of the situation, and was already known for remembering everything she's ever been told about someone's tragic backstory. Jason, like most of Percy's friends, was desperately lacking that energy in his life, and by the third visit he'd given her a rundown of his entire life history. 

I feel like I can tell her anything, he'd said to Percy later, thrown off his game by a particularly raw word-vomit. Every bit of it is massively unfair–that Jason's stepmother takes out her anger over her spouse's infidelity on the children who'd had no choice in being born, that his father didn't care enough about him to do anything more than show up once or twice a month and give him a blistering, vaguely threatening lecture, that his mother had barely even remembered he existed, and only by enough to make herself look more pitiable. 

Most upsetting of all was that his sister–seven or eight years old then–had essentially been forced to parent him through toddlerhood by herself, because no one else was paying enough attention to stop a two-year-old from trying to give himself a lip piercing with a stapler. Half the time, nobody else was paying enough attention to feed him, either.

It makes Percy want to throw something out a window. Fortunately for everyone, while she's in agreement, his mom has a lot more experience in channeling her anger productively than he does, and isn't prone to agitating herself into letting it boil over. She focuses instead on making her apartment the coziest, homiest place she possibly can, on showering Jason with all of the maternal adoration and pride he'd been missing out on, and letting him know he could show up on her doorstep at three in the morning without notice and she'd welcome him inside with open arms and a mug of hot tea. 

- I Guess You're Just What I Needed

Thalia had made a game out of collecting the recyclables strewn over the floor, which just meant that she'd cheer him on and make a huge celebratory fuss when he found something plastic. The glass and aluminum were 'big-kid stuff', so she didn't have to worry about him hurting himself on sharp edges or hard surfaces; she diverted his desire to be just like her by pretending his contributions were heavier, so he could feel like he was helping. 

She'd gather them all up in a little red wagon and take Jason to the convenience store down the street to exchange their loot for deposits. His job had been putting the plastic in the machine, one at a time, while she held him up so he could reach. They'd put the change in a coffee can, already rattling with whatever bills and coins she'd found in the mess of the apartment, and use it to re-load the wagon with as much prepackaged, shelf-stable food as it would get them. 

Sometimes, they'd get someone nice behind the counter who asked where their parents were and went thin-lipped when she tried to deflect it by lying that their mother had a migraine, and they'd end up with twice as much food as they had money for. Those trips always made Thalia more nervous, and she'd tended to startle every time the doorbell rang for at least a week afterwards. 

Back then, the routine felt normal, even pleasant; he learned quickly to associate it with a full belly and a feeling of safety. Like so many of his scars, he hadn't realized how deep it was until he related the story in the Jackson-Blofis kitchen, Sally's eyes filling with tears as she took his hand and squeezed until it hurt.

-We Should Have Each Other With Cream, chapter 11

See also my "thundersibs" tag.

[howemancing]

WIP Wednesday?

I was tagged by @dalishkadan​. I tag uh. @thedascharlatan​, @allisondraste​,  This is somewhat a sneak preview for my main fic, but I’m also not sure I’m gonna keep it - it’s an intense chapter and this might be a little too off the main point of the chapter. It’s WIP, so clearly editing hasn’t happened yet. A flashback scene in progress - maybe the last I’ll do for awhile?

Elsa Cousland, 9 years ago

 Grey eyes stared at me, stony, cold, and full of threat. My throat felt suddenly drier; what had I done to piss Nathaniel off this time? It had been a long time since I’d made him so genuinely angry.

My grip tightened on my daggers, holding them ready. I could see him do likewise, eyes narrowed.

“You can do this, pup,” Father cheered me from the sidelines.

Rendon chuckled, casting a sidelong glance. “Are you so certain she needs the encouragement, my lord?”

Papa clapped him on the back cheerfully. “Probably not, old friend, but a father can’t help be proud of their child. I admit, I’m rooting against yours, now.”

Rendon chuckled, but my focus was back on Nathaniel, who was openly scowling at this point.

“Are you...alright?” I asked, hesitant.

“Focus on the match,” he chided me immediately. Which, rude, but he wasn’t wrong.

I nodded, getting into a ready stance. 

“Begin,” Rendon’s voice snapped out.

In a flash, Nathaniel came at me harder than I’d ever seen before. The ferocity of it almost made me lose the match right there, but a particularly aggressive moment on his part left a wide opening I could brutally punish with a kick, buying myself a moment of breath.

“Attagirl, Pup!” Father called cheerfully, while Nathaniel scowled harder.

I stared at him, trying to divine what was wrong, but after a moment, realized it didn’t matter. Father was here. Father was going to decide if I’d learned anything after all. I had to prove myself, prove that I hadn’t wasted my years, that I wasn’t the silly, frivolous girl Rendon thought I was. 

Everything was riding on this moment. I wouldn’t let even Nathaniel stand in my way.

I met his eyes, then, determined. In his own I saw understanding - and, confusingly, hurt. Clearly I’d erred somehow, but I’d have to find out why, later. This match mattered. And if Nathaniel wanted to bring his all to stop me, well, I could appreciate the challenge. And I’d rise above it.

Unusually for us, no taunts were exchanged, no words spoken. Nathaniel’s practice daggers flashed out, continuously intent on striking the killing blows which would end the match.  I ducked and wove around them. Thomas had given me more than enough training in someone who just wanted to do whatever it took to stop me. Coming from Nathaniel, it was surprising, but - this was Nathaniel. 

I was missing something, and as much as I wanted to focus, my brain couldn’t help pick apart the knot of whatever was wrong with my friend. It took me a moment, but finally I realized - he just wanted to push me, to give me every chance in the world of showing off exactly how much I had learned.

A savage grin took me, finally stumbling upon this realization, and the last chain holding me back fell away. Nathaniel was holding nothing back. Why should I? 

I struck out, sliding my dagger in between the gaps in his defense I’d noted, beginning to score on him more and more. His frustrations only seemed to grow, which I didn’t quite understand, but it didn’t matter. The match was steadily turning in my favor. Nathaniel usually had a plan, and tended to get easily unsettled when things threw him off - and grumpy, too. 

I could use that.

One particularly keen moment locked us, and I felt him trying to bear his entire strength down on me, which felt a bit unfair, as he had 5 years and a few stone on me. 

“I’ve always admired you,” I said quietly, and his eyes widened, startled. I used that moment, hooking out a leg and breaking his stance.

“But I won’t let you stop me,” I finished, shoving hard at the right moment, forcing his stumble back.

It was enough of a weakness, and I pounced, practice daggers flashing faster then they ever had before. A particular energy had taken hold of me. Rendon had never believed in me, but couldn’t I prove myself, now? I was good. I was very good, I knew I was. Nathaniel believed in me - why else would he come after me so hard? I would show them all.

Nathaniel, my rival, my best friend (with Delilah!), the boy I’d been silly enough to have a crush on, thankfully one I was finally getting over. But he was smart, talented, and I would prove I was his equal. No, that I was better. Maybe there were some things he could still beat me in, and he was probably a better rogue than me, but like Thomas always said, I was a freakishly violent girl. I could do this.

It wasn’t easy. He was probably my fiercest challenge to date. But in the end, I was more prepared for his ferocity than he was mine, and the match ended when I dumped him on his butt and slammed forward, dagger hovering at his neck.

My father let out a loud whoop, but Nathaniel just squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. And it began to occur to me that Nathaniel very much hadn’t wanted to lose.

“Ashes, Nate, what’s wrong?” I muttered, dagger still hovering, hesitant, at his neck.

“Nothing,” he lied, refusing to meet my eyes. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Father congratulated me with a whoop and a fierce hug, which squished all the giggles out of me as I clung right back to him. 

“Didja see, didja see-?” I began, and father laughed louder, kissing my cheek.

“Old friend, you’ve trained her wonderfully,” he congratulated my mentor.  “Better than your own son, I noticed!”

“Thank you, my lord,” Rendon replied evenly. Nathaniel stood up, brushing himself off, looking bitter.

Oh.  Oh.

Sod it all. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I found him later by our tree, angrily chucking stones into the lake.

“Hey,” I said hesitantly, unsure. He had to be aware of my approach, and yet he’d said nothing.

“Good match,” he said evenly, chucking another stone.

“What’s-”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he asserted immediately, lying. 

I stamped a foot. “Nate,” I objected, stealing the next stone before he could chuck it. He blinked, looking at his hands, before glancing to me, sighing.  

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m being an ass.”

“A little,” I agreed solemnly, and he scowled, before a rueful expression took his face. “But I was an ass too, I shouldn’t’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault,” he interrupted me quietly. “Honestly. You did - you did everything right.”

“So what’s-”

“I’ll miss you,” he told me, and it was excuse enough; I launched myself at him and hugged him tightly. 

“I’m not gone, you goose, just going home,” I pointed out. “You can visit me any time. You and Delilah. In fact, I insist!”

He chuckled faintly, reverberating his ribcage pleasantly, arms tightening around me. It began to provoke inconvenient feelings in me, so I disengaged. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he allowed it, eyes drifting to the lake. “It’s...going to be a little hard to visit, soon,” he said gently. 

“See, that’s why you should come in late fall, and then, oops! Guess you can’t travel and you’ll have to stay in Highever all winter,” I informed him cheerfully.  “I can’t wait to show you everything, home is so pretty, and our hounds are WAY better, and we have so many beautiful trees, and...hey. Why do you look so glum?”

His hands twitched, and for a concerning second, I thought he wanted to fold me into another hug. 

I probably wouldn’t have resisted, which said something about me. I really needed to explain to Nathaniel to stop flirting so much, but - it was my fault, really, for getting carried away, and anyway, it wouldn’t matter, soon, right?

But instead he just shrugged helplessly. “I...don’t think that will work,” he claimed, and I sighed. Neither he nor Delilah were keen to visit me, and I didn’t really understand why, but letting them know I was hurt would just be rude.

 “Of course,” I said simply. “Well, I hope you’ll find the time to visit me at some point.”

“You’ll still visit us, right?”

I gave him a wan smile. “Any time, Nate. Just...just ask.”

“Ok. Ok, then,” he said quietly. A faint smile crinkled his eyes, which seemed - stormier than usual. “You did amazingly, today.”

“YEAH I did,” I crowed gloriously, pleased he had recognized as much. 

“I bet so many nobles are going to want to marry you, now that you’re going back home,” he pointed out, and I shoved him, hard.

“I’ll make you eat dirt again, I will,” I threatened him.

He chuckled, faintly, and with a surprising lack of grace for Nathaniel, plopped down on the ground, and after a moment, I came to sit next to him. “I’ve dreaded this day for so long,” he confided in me. And I blinked. 

Then sighed. Damn these boys and their damnable pride. “Nathaniel, you’re still a much better rogue than me,” I admitted, words galling, but he deserved the honesty. “If you’d had real daggers, if you’d wanted to kill me - th’match would have been over much quicker. I just went for your weaknesses and tricked victory out of you.”

“Elsa!” he said, shocked. “I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know,” I groused, rolling my eyes. “I just mean - I’m gonna have an advantage in friendly matches. ‘Specially against people I know. But when it counts, if you were up against a real bad guy...well, I’m very glad we’re friends, is all.”

“You wouldn’t have to leave if we were engaged!” he burst out. 

I stared at him. And blinked. And fought the sudden tears in my eyes. Dang rogues, why did he always have to go for my weakest parts?

“Oh - oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” he said quickly

I laughed, forced. “Don’t joke like that, Nate, it’s rude.”

“I…” he said, trailing off. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I forgive you,” I told him immediately.

“Liar,” he whispered. “I keep hurting you and you keep forgiving me, and-”

“Nate,” I breathed, aggrieved. “You’re making a big deal out of it. Stop. I said I forgive you and I mean it. You’re my friend, I don’t - I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“Oh.”  

Silently we sat, staring at the water before us, Nathaniel a gloomy cloud next to me.

“I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here,” I said quietly, wishing my friend would just be happy for me. “Even if  - even if your dad thinks I’m silly, I’m - I’ve learned a lot. And I’m happy I’m going home. I missed my family, Nate,” I said quietly. 

He hunched over, lower.  “Oh. Maker. I’m such a selfish ass.” 

Considering he was getting all contrary about visiting me and expected me to drop everything and visit him - “You are,” I agreed.

His scowl deepened, and somehow the shadows seemed to grow. “Are you going to forgive me for that too?”

I snorted, giving him a sidelong look, assuming he was teasing, but he just glared ahead. “Only if you come visit,” I teased him.

A spark of life appeared in his eyes, then. “Ok. That’s fair.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He never did end up visiting me, but he had a pretty good excuse. Not long after I left I got a letter, informing me he was going to go all the way to Starkhaven to start knight training. I may have thrown myself onto the bed and sobbed a bit when I read that. But he asked me to come visit to see him off, and there was really only one response.

Seeing the Howes again was fun, though of course Thomas challenged me to a sparring match right away and the cad tried to turn it into overly touchy wrestling. Unluckily for him, I suddenly remembered I didn’t have to care about pissing him off too much such that he’d whine to his father, so I simply caught him in an unforgiving headlock and choked him out, dropping him unceremoniously to the dirt when I finished. 

Delilah claimed time, as apparently Nathaniel was getting his clothes fixed by Adraia, and had borrowed Helma from Delilah as well, so she found it only fair to borrow me. 

We  laughed and giggled and swapped stories about Nathaniel, both of us keen to avoid admitting how much we’d miss him. 

“Did you ever tell him how you used to feel?” Delilah asked me. 

I rolled my eyes. “I’m over it, Delilah, what’s the point in bringing that old story up?” 

“I guess,” Delilah agreed, flouncing back on her bed, legs kicking out. “It’s still be cute though.”

I giggled. “You’re such a silly romantic,” I teased her. “What do you want me to do, write a love letter?”

“Elsa, no!” she protested, offended.

“Oh dearest Nate, my heart yearns the hardest, it burns so burningly,” I began performatively.

“Elsaaaaa!” she whined, standing up and stamping her foot. “You can’t confess through letters, that’s just wrong.”

“Didn’t what’shiface confess to what’sherface through a letter?” I pointed out slyly. 

“Exactly,” Delilah agreed. “It went TERRIBLY. See-”

I quickly waved my hands in surrender. “No, please, don’t try to tell me about that book more, it’s rotting your brain.” 

“I’m just saying,” Delilah pouted. “You’re friends. You shoulda told him properly, is all.”

I giggled. “I’m glad I didn’t. That would have been SO mortifying.”

“But-”

“Lilah, c’mon.” My eyes slid from hers, and her mouth snapped shut, apparently my tone was more serious than I meant to reveal. “I’m not as brave as you think I am.”

She sighed, and came to sit next to me, arm around my shoulder, and we sat in silence. “I’ll miss him.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and with effort, I forced them back. “Me too,” I whispered.

[littlemissagrafina]

For the prompts: if you’re up for it I think it would be cool to see a Parkner fic that somehow Harley discovers Peter is Spider-Man :) I dunno what the details would be

This took me forever, I'm so sorry!

I hope you like it darling💛

Read on AO3

~

In all honesty, Harley has no idea how he didn't see it sooner. It was literally so obvious now that he came to think of it.

He had known that Peter hadn't been telling the truth when the other teen would spew excuses for missed classes, forgotten homework, and his attendance that was, to put it frankly, absolute crap.

Each stuttered response when Peter was asked about his tardiness only solidifying it in Harley's mind.

But he never said anything and, surprisingly, it didn't actually bother him. He was curious but it wasn't his place. If Peter decided to tell him, cool. If not, he was happy with waiting.

He also didn't feel comfortable outright asking Peter because he was worried about crossing boundaries even though they were pretty close.

They had known each other for a while now, having started texting when Tony sent Peter a message that was meant for Harley.

Tony, after much poking and prodding by Peter to find out who Country Potato was, finally gave the teens each others numbers and now he had to endure constant message notifications, calls, sarcasm, and, to his horror, flirting.

So yeah, Harley and Peter had gotten close, their relationship slowly changing to include sneaking glances and rosy cheeks. Eventually MJ couldn't handle their Mutual Pining™ and asked Peter out for Harley.

But still, Harley didn't push. The curiosity was always there in the back of his mind, twisting and turning through possible ideas and realities but he didn't dwell on it.

He didn't realise he would be finding out what it was on a night they were supposed to be meeting in the penthouse living room for a movie and pizza date together.

At least not until Spider-Man crashed in through the window.

-

Peter was screwed.

It was supposed to be a good day. It was a good day... until some asshole injected by an obviously DIY super soldier serum practically appeared out of nowhere on Peter's patrol.

And he started to get annoyed. It was just supposed to be a quick swing through Queens before he would head over to his room in the tower and change before Harley realized that he was there.

But now… now he was late with a few cuts, bruises, and a very tender sprain in his one ankle. 

Thanks, Mr. Wannabe Captain America. I really needed that tonight.

"How am I gonna hide this and not have Harley notice?" Peter groaned to himself as he swung towards the tower.

Just as he was about to reach the building, he went to shoot another web to launch himself to the same level as his room.

Nothing happened. No tell tale hiss and thwip of his webs.

Peter's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening behind the lenses of his mask as they frantically darted to calculate where he would be landing on the building.

Luckily instead of being flung too far and having nothing to catch him, he was aimed at the kitchen and living room area of the tower penthouse.

The only problem was what was in the room, or rather, who was in the room.

Harley.

And Peter was headed straight for the window behind the very couch the other teen was perched on.

Only one thought crossed his mind before he was hitting and breaking through the glass.

Shit.

-

Harley could only stare in disbelief at the red and blue clad vigilante who was sprawled out on the glass covered floor.

He was broken out of his shock by a pained groan from said vigilante as he sat up, pieces of glass shifting and crushing from the movement.

"Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark." 

He knew that voice.

Harley would have missed the muttered words if it wasn't for the completely silent room that was about to be decidedly less silent.

" Peter!? " 

Spider-Man's, or should he say Peter's, head whipped around to face him, the white eyes of the mask widening comically.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. "Uhh… surprise?"

The other teen could only gape at him.

"Your definition of surprise needs to be re-checked, Pete." Tony's voice suddenly rang through the room and Harley looked to where the man was standing in the doorway to the living room having been alerted by FRIDAY when Peter crashed through the window.

Harley's attention was brought back to Peter when he hissed a curse as he tried to stand.

"Darlin'! Are you okay?" Harley questioned frantically, his accent thick as he darted forwards to help his boyfriend up, wincing at the stumble from Peter when he tried to put pressure on his ankle.

Before Peter could answer, FRIDAY'S creepily human sounding voice sounded from the speakers that were set around the room.

"Mini Boss has sustained abrasions and bruises across his upper torso as well as a sprain in his left ankle. There is no need to alert Dr. Cho but she would advise on icing the sprain to prevent swelling as well as disinfecting the cuts." 

Despite the A.I's answer, Harley didn't relax until Peter himself said that he was okay.

Tony helped Peter to his room not wanting him to aggravate his injured ankle before they could ice it. He waited for the teen to get changed and cleaned up and lead him back to the living room where Harley was waiting with an ice pack and a fluffy pillow set on an ottoman for Peter to keep his leg up.

Tony beckoned Harley towards the kitchen under the guise of getting the other teen some food to give his metabolism, and subsequently his healing factor, a boost.

Once there Tony turned and rested a hand on Harley's shoulder. "You okay, bud?" Tony asked him, concern lingering in his eyes.

Harley took a deep breath before letting out in a long sigh. 

He thought back on the times that Peter was late or would disappear suddenly only to reappear with ruffled hair and clothes, sometimes sporting a slight limp or wincing when he moved certain ways.

He thought on the school absences and really bad excuses. It all made sense now.

How the hell hadn't he noticed? It was actually so obvious.

Peter was Spider-Man and somehow he wasn't really surprised. Of course his kind and soft hearted boyfriend was somehow one of New York's most famous vigilantes.

And he was okay with it. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop Peter from being Spider-Man anyway. He knew the second that he heard his voice from behind the red mask.

"Yeah," He nodded at Tony, "I am okay."

And he was. It was just another thing to add to his Reasons To Love Peter Parker list.

 

He was a hero.

 

 

[eirenare]

My TROS experience and thoughts (the good, the bad, a bit of speculation, an “old” WIP drawing, and... hopes)

Putting this under a “read more” because, well... this post is a huge walking spoiler

This morning I woke up really, really early to re-watch TLJ with my brother and do stuff before the hour of watching TROS arrived—I remember almost crying watching TLJ, already almost crying listening to that damn TROS song on Fortnite as my brother played it for a while

I was nervous all day long, honestly. I accidentally stumbled the other day into a hashtag on Twitter called “BenSoloDeservedBetter”, and I was already on edge. A lot. Not to mention that I accidentally saw half a comment somewhere on Twitter saying something that had made me doubt

So, yeah, I basically spent all day trying to give myself hope and reassurance while deeply having ONE FEAR. That was: Ben not surviving

You see, I love with every inch of my being Reylo, but—Ben is my favorite character of all Star Wars. Like, I can’t help it, I have a super soft spot for him

I had, like, super high hopes for TROS, and yeah, I liked the movie... or well, most of it (and I got some things right to my delight and surprise, one of them being the throne with Dark Rey sitting in it, but more on that stuff later)

There were funny moments I enjoyed (Babu Frik, Finn joking about Poe’s past as spice runner, C3PO being C3PO...), the scary/terrorific moments were amazing (gods I love Palpatine’s new appearence, all the Sith and eerie stuff, the whispers, the machinery...), the action/fight scenes were cool overall (Rey and Ben fighting together against their enemies after seeing each other and doing the lightsaber trick was amazing, for example, also the jumps, and I loved seeing all the spaceships together), the imagery was sometimes amazing too (Palpatine sending that enormous lighting to the sky, for example) and the emotional stuff weirdly enough didn’t make me cry but had my heart pounding (Leia’s passing, Han and Ben’s parallel scene, Rey and Ben’s healing scene and their last scene...), not to mention I was gripping tightly my bag and jacket to my lap throughout most of the movie, BUT

B  U  T

The fact that Ben didn’t make it out alive left me very, VERY bitter

I have to say, again, that weirdly enough I just... didn’t cry, even when Rey died, not even when Ben died, and he’s my favorite. Most of the times it happens, that my brain’s kind of... messy, when it comes to emotions (it seems that, most of the time, my brain just goes from “step: something happens” to “step: body/voice reaction” skipping “step: feel” in the middle—... although that usually doesn’t happen if the emotions are negative, which sucks specially if you already feel like you yourself are a mess—), so... yeah

It kind of... Well, the tears didn’t start falling until I was watching the credits with my brother (bless his soul for listening to my rambling, and for granting me multiple hugs, for calling my dear “Ben” instead of “Kylo” now, and overall being so patient with me—I didn’t miss the fact that he was looking at my reactions at some points, like when the Reylo kiss, and then Ben dying, because he knows how much I love them), when it registered that it was really the end, and that yes, Ben was... dead. I kept crying as we watched the credits, and then outside of the theater a bit again, and then at home, and I’m now crying as I write this

Look, I loved the Reylo moments we got even though I wanted some more. And although (as I explained above) I was “numb” almost all the time and even while watching the kiss, I enjoyed it and I could “feel” that I was happy and excited about it because my chest was pounding like crazy and my lips were doing that kind of quivering when you can’t quite contain yourself and you’re emotional

(... Yes, living with this brain of mine is a mess, and I don’t even know if this has always been like this or started at some point, because my memory’s also a good mess—I hate this so much)

But then—then I saw Ben fall backwards and start to disappear, and I went from glee and triumph to “oh no” (also: hello there pit my old friend)

I mean... They just went and killed a character that was trying to do good after a life of strife with himself and what he did and did not do, a character that was just starting to go to the light (to see the light)—a character that’s been all his life marked by the abuse he’s been suffering ever since he was in the kriffing womb, therefore not even allowing him to really live. They basically killed... a symbol of hope

It feels sad and discouraging for me, even though what he did was noble

It just stings. And the fact that Rey didn’t see Ben at the end alongside Leia and Luke, when she adopts the surname “Skywalker”? ... Why. They could’ve added him, but no. Why. And I have to say, while I like a lot “Rey Nobody”, I also like the contrast between her and Palpatine, the subversion of dark and light, that even though darkness runs in her veins, she would still choose the light.

(Also, the totally not serious question my brother and I joke about, though: who the fuck decided to have a crazy night with Mr. Raisin Ass and to give him an “heir”?)

To soothe myself, I like to think that since Ben “vanished” into the Force and became one with it, and that since Rey’s kind of “a host” of the Force (?), he’s now always with her and they can feel each other. I like to think that, sometimes, they’ll see each other, be able to be together if only for brief moments—maybe at night, sleeping, Rey would feel Ben wrapped around her (my feels asdbfkffnggjglg)

(You can bet your ass that I’m abso-kriffing-lutely going to write something about this because I NEED IT BADLY)

Another thing that soothes me is that Ben passed away with the biggest, most beautiful smile on his face, and even though I hate that he died, I’m glad he was able to feel that kind of happiness with Rey and that he was able to join the light side in the end—now, yeah, give me Force Ghost Ben at some point in the future at least,  p l e a s e

EDIT (addition of paragraph) — Also: Ben’s face when he looks at Rey every damn time, Ben running to Rey’s rescue with only a kriffing blaster, again the fight they had and when Rey sent him the lightsaber, and then lifting himself up from the pit with all his kriffing injuries and the pain he must have been enduring to then give up his life to save the love of his life—iconic, badass, a true dork in love whom I adore, the kriffing boss. But you know what I missed A LOT, that I realized I didn’t remember it being in the movie after watching it?? The “I DO”. I don’t think I’ve heard its equivalent in Spanish, and that has me pretty much confused and bitter. Like, wtf? If they let that out:  w h y ?

Kathleen Kennedy pretty much hinted that maybe we’ll see “more Skywalkers” in the future, so, yeah *looks sideways at Rey and her ghost husband* Praying that they’d be in that “Project Luminous” of 2020, or later, but just... be somewhere else more

Something that bothers me, though—is there really a balance in the Force, after TROS? Rey’s lineage may be of dark and she may have taken the path of the light, but does that mean the Force is balanced now, or maybe not...? *scratches head* I don’t know, I need a re-watch and to have some serious thinking of this

As I write this post, I’m trembling almost to a shaking point and my chest is hurting. In all honesty, as much as I love Reylo... If I had to choose between Reylo happening or Ben living, I’d choose Ben living

... Now, it’s gonna hurt so much more reading “The Rise of Kylo Ren”. Oh, dear

If we set aside Ben’s passing, though, regarding how I saw the movie, I’d say that as much as I enjoyed it overall, it kind of felt like... it lacked things. Explanations and a bit more of worldbuilding, for example? More Knights of Ren stuff (although luckily we’re having them in “The Rise of Kylo Ren” alongside their leader, Mr. Hottie McHotHot aka Ren? Maz explaining how she got the Legacy lightsaber? TROS kind of feels, like... a little incomplete to me. I don’t know if to others it feels that way, but it kinda feels like that for me and my brother

Still I’m aware that, well, it HAS to be difficult to end such a story, and that it can’t possibly be easier to fit a lot in a 2h33 movie, you know? It seems... very complicated, and the stakes were high. So yeah, I understand that (while what I don’t take well at all, I don’t think I’ll ever do, is Ben’s death—it was pointless, and the fact that Rey didn’t show too much feeling about it... it feels weird). And well, the junior and non-junior novelizations will come out in March, so I like to think that we’ll get more details in them (like with the TFA and TLJ novelizations)

... And I really, really need a good rewatch of TROS because I’m forgetting a lot of stuff probably. So yeah, next Thursday if all goes well, I should have a ticket to go and watch it again, except this time in English with Spanish subtitles

A funny thing that happened at the theater, by the way, was that a woman hissed in excitement a pair of rows before us “I KNEW IT” when Rey was revealed to be a Palpatine

Also: I really, really hope that Rey doesn’t stay in Tatooine with how much she loves greenery landscape. I hope she went anywhere else that’s green and lush and was able to lead a nice life, to actually live the life Ben granted her, whatever path she would choose to take—and that Ben’s ghost would kind of like, be around her, you know?

Now, there are some things that made me laugh inside, and that is... that I got some stuff right. An example of that is the fact that Rey mentioned seeing herself sitting on that throne, something that happens in my “Rey of Jakku” fic and of which I was doing a WIP the last days of november (look, that happening was the thing least probable in my mind so... lol):

Also the cannon distroying Kijimi, too, and it seems that about the nature of Rey and Ben’s bond too. Also, when C3PO started explaining about the Pasaana festivity it kind of reminded me of how he started explaining the marriage customs in my “arranged marriage in Pasaana” AU. And I don’t remember now because my head’s pretty much a mess and specially right now (and as I said I really need a re-watch), but I think I recognized other things too

TROS wasn’t what I expected, and on the scales it has both its good and its not-so-good things (being the worst of them, for me, Ben’s death—of which I’m trying to cope by thinking what I said of him being literally with Rey now, maybe sometimes being able to see each other and interact), so... it’s a weird mix of me liking the movie while also not enjoying it nearly as much as I wanted to (as I think I should’ve)

Even though I’m super bitter about Ben, however, thank you to all of the team for working hard on the movie—doing the last piece of the Skywalker saga movies sounds everything but easy

Now, looking forward to the future...

I see myself continuing to write and draw Reylo, honestly. Ben’s death has kind of spurred me further to do stuff, so yeah—gonna keep up with my alternate TROS Reylo fic (“Rey of Jakku”), and I’m pumped to attempt writing other stuff, like... trying to write regarding Force Ghost Ben interacting with Rey, or working on AUs (*looks sideways at the “arranged marriage in Pasaana” AU, “Ice-skating” AU and the “padawan Ben meets mechanic Rey in Batuu” AU)

Will also be looking forward with utmost interest at “The Rise of Kylo Ren”, and to see what the merchandising team and the books and comics have to show in 2020—which means I’ll be dying inside all over again when I see Ben and Rey’s last scene, but well *shrugs* The novels are specially interesting to me. I mean, getting to read how these two felt about each other throughout TROS, and specially at the end? Written by Rae Carson? YES PLEASE

Also, if “Project Luminous” happened to have Rey (and even better yet: Force Ghost Ben appearing), I’d be even more interested in it—a lot more

The experience with TROS was a mix of good and not-so-good things, coupled with the One Fear I had regarding Ben (my baby... oh, how that kriffing stings), but still, it wasn’t that bad of an experience in my case

So, yeah... I think I’ll write some more thoughts later, tomorrow or another day when my head’s clearer (probably will write more when I re-watch), but so far, these are my thoughts on TROS

Rest in peace, darling, beloved Ben... </3 T_T

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Cornelia Street (7/9)

A/N: oh my god they were quarantined

yes. It’s one of those fics.

AU, obvs

I’m posting as I go and idk how many parts this is going to be, likely won’t be very long but I literally don’t know what I’m doing and should i be starting yet another WIP? definitely not but fuck it lets fucking go

Title is from T-swizzles Lover album, I’m OBSESSED

Summary: Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.

Read On AO3

On Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Part 7

Kurt runs his hands through his hair, shaking off the last suds of his shampoo out of it before shutting off the water. Sara Bareilles’s voice is still leading him to thoughts about Blaine, and how he led him in the dance yesterday with the gentle swing of his hips. 

It had been nice, to say the least. Dancing with Blaine in his arms had felt like he’d finally found the missing puzzle piece he’d been searching for his whole life. Waking up next to a still sleeping Blaine should’ve been awkward, but only felt like the most normal thing in the world, a routine that was way too easy to settle into and—

Shit.

He is in way too deep and he hasn’t even kissed Blaine yet. 

Woah, yet? That’s a little presumptuous of you, isn't it? 

If he’s going to. If Blaine even wants him to.

Kurt needs to stop thinking about Blaine ASAP, but his brain has made it clear that that’s not quite an option at the moment, so instead, he just turns the cold knob on the shower.

He heads to the kitchen when he’s done, and he’s met with the sight of Blaine humming along to Despacito while he finishes cleaning the dishes they’d used for dinner last night. Kurt can’t keep from cracking a smile.

“Having fun?”

Blaine, obviously a little surprised by Kurt’s presence, lifts his head and his mouth twitches up into a grin. “Actually, yeah. I used to hate doing the dishes when I was a kid, but then I got this job at a fast food pizza place. I realized that as long as I was washing dishes, I didn’t have to deal with customers. It sort of pavloved me into liking it.”

“God, that's such a mood.”

“The other explanation is that I’m training to be a fifties housewife.” Blaine shakes his head and makes a face, placing a plate on the drying rack. “Sorry, that was dumb,” he mutters.

“No, it was funny,” Kurt raises an amused eyebrow. “And if we’re going by the fifties’s standards, I suppose that makes me the workaholic husband.”

“Well, have fun at work, honey!” Blaine calls out, face twitching up into a grin as he holds back a chuckle.

Kurt walks up to the door as if he’s going to head out (which, they both know he can’t actually do) and pulls a coat still hanging on the rack by the frame of it. He drapes it over himself and waves to Blaine. “I will, make sure to pick up the kids early from school today!”

“Oh yeah, little Feta has a soccer tournament this afternoon, doesn’t he?”

“Feta?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. 

Blaine shrugs. “Yeah, like fettuccine Alfredo? Alfredo is a valid name.”

“Okay, if you get to name our son that then I’m naming our daughter Audrey, as in Audrey Hepburn.”

“I support that.”

“Now that our kids have proper names, I suppose I should be getting to work, huh?” Kurt asks. “Those taxes aren’t going to file themselves. And I have a long commute from here to the computer.”

He turns to leave, but Blaine laughs and quickly grabs the nearly empty box of cereal on the table and holds it out towards Kurt. “Wait! Don’t forget your briefcase!”

“Silly me! How could I forget, thank you!”

Kurt doesn’t even think about it—he’s too into this strange and weirdly fun game they’ve set up. As Blaine hands him the cereal box in lieu of a fake briefcase, Kurt tucks it underneath his arms and leans forward to press a quick peck to Blaine’s lips. Blaine reciprocates, lightly placing a hand behind Kurt’s neck. 

It isn’t until they pull away that Kurt realizes what he’s done.

They go absolutely still for a moment, eyes locked, neither daring to move any closer or further from the other.

Kurt wonders for half a second if he accidentally crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

And then the next half of the second Blaine’s lips are on his, hands grabbing desperately at his waist, so sudden and intense that the momentum sends them stumbling backwards a little. They don’t stop until Kurt’s back hits the table, and he sinks his hand into Blaine’s satin soft curls. 

The gesture elicits a small gasp from Blaine, who slides his hands down Kurt’s back and tugs so that their bodies are flush against each other’s. Kurt reciprocates, pulls him closer, kisses him harder until they’re just this chaotic bundle of bumping noses and roaming hands.

They finally pull away, Kurt’s blue eyes wide as a prairie because he had wondered if Blaine was picking up on the same thing he was and… well, he certainly doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

“Sorry,” Blaine mumbles, shaking his head with a sheepish smile on his face. “I uh, don’t know what came over me.”

Kurt doesn’t hesitate to pull Blaine back in for another embrace. “Me neither,” he breathes. And in all honesty, he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that this quarantine thing just got a lot more bearable. 

*

“I don’t think you’re playing this right.”

“Nonsense, I used to play this every day at lunch with the New Directions. Cards were easily the best way to pass the time. Santana even showed us this one game called Chingasos… which is surprisingly violent for a card game…”

After making out for… quite a long time (like, a really, really long time, not that Blaine’s complaining), they’d set some blankets down in the living room floor and exchanged card games. 

Kurt is currently sitting across from Blaine, cross legged and explaining the rules of Spits as they play. There are two piles, and the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards by placing them on top of either pile, but only in numerical order. If both piles have the same number card, you could slap the top of the piles, say “spits”, and the opponent would have to take all the cards.

They both place 2s on either piles of cards, and Blaine jumps to press his hands flat on top of them. Kurt has been playing this game for years, though, and is too quick for Blaine, so his hands land on top of Kurt’s instead of the cards. 

“Eat ‘em and weep,” Kurt says with a cocky grin, shoving the pile of cards towards Blaine.

“Isn’t it read ‘em and weep?”

“You’re stalling.”

Blaine mocks a scoff, mostly because he is. “Are you implying that I’m causing a distraction in order to prevent my loss?”

“Okay, nobody talks like that, you’re definitely stalling.”

“No, this is stalling,” Blaine says. He tugs Kurt’s hands and rolls backwards on the blankets, pulling Kurt on top of him and leaning up to kiss him and abandoning their card game. He can feel the smile in Kurt’s lips and can’t contain a grin of his own. 

When they finally release each other, Kurt lets out a contented sigh and rests his head on Blaine, draping his arms over his body, fitting in in every space Blaine didn’t even know was waiting to be filled.

“This is gonna sound weird, and kind of random… but I feel really safe with you,” Kurt says.

Kurt’s head, resting on Blaine’s chest, lifts when he laughs. 

“Heard that, coronavirus?” he jokes. “Actually,” he continues, starting to absentmindedly trace shapes on Kurt’s back with his finger. “It’s funny that you say that, because you kind of make me feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.” He realizes that may not have come out exactly as he wanted it to. “I mean, like, in a good way. Not in a I’m worried you’re going to push me off way.”

“You’re probably just about the only person I can stand in a ten mile radius, currently, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“What about Adam?” Blaine finds himself asking. His heart is a canon in his chest, and he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why he asked that question, but he knows exactly why. 

He’s falling fast and hard for Kurt, and if he runs back to Adam the moment Blaine stops being his only choice, again, it’s going to suck. He’s heard stories about people who got stuck in elevators for twelve hours and then eloped the second they were rescued. And then the inevitable divorce that followed.

Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to want him because he’s bored; he wants Kurt to want him the same way he wants Kurt. 

“Adam and I over for a reason,” he finally replies calmly. 

The urge to just stupidly blurt out Which is? is so strong, and Blaine’s honestly surprised he doesn’t. Apparently, though, his silence is enough of a cue for Kurt to continue.

“I—and feel free to stop me… if it gets too weird or too–if you don’t want to hear this.”

“You can say anything to me,” Blaine answers without hesitation. Kurt’s cheeks pressing harder against Blaine’s chest tell him that he’s smiling.

“Okay… I think I just got swept up in the idea of finally being in a relationship, or of finally having someone who wanted me that I didn’t care if we weren’t necessarily right for each other. I mean, at the time I certainly didn’t have enough experience to know that it wasn’t right.”

Blaine hummed in encouraging agreement, urging Kurt to keep going.

“I think we were both hoping the other would evolve into the person we wanted them to be, if that makes sense. Like, I’m… I’m pretty naturally guarded. I don’t always wear my heart out on my sleeve and I think that bothered him.”

Blaine nods. Though he doesn’t feel like Kurt is particularly withholding around him, he can see why people would think that. Kurt has told Blaine all about what he endured during high school. That would be enough to make anyone a little wary of the world.

“And I don’t know if there are just parts of me I wasn’t willing to share because I’d be sharing them with him,” Kurt continues. “But there were parts of my life—little things, I’m not in like organized crime or anything—that were just for me. I’m fairly social, but if I needed an hour alone after he had friends over, he took it really personally.

“On the other hand, I always thought he took life way too seriously. Every single show or song we listened to had to have some sort of profound deeper meaning or else he labeled it as trash. What an exhausting way to live!”

Blaine chuckles. “I know what you mean. I dated Sebastian for a while, and he would constantly talk about his summer trips to Europe, which was interesting at first but after a few weeks I realized that that seemed to be the entire focal point of his personality.”

Kurt laughs. “Yeah…”

“Anyways, you were saying?”

“Oh, right... well, back in December I was watching When Harry Met Sally with Rachel and it was that scene where Sally says “We never do fly off to Rome at a moment’s notice”. And I just… realized. I went to get things from his place that night and applied to live in the NYADA dorms again for the next semester.

“I guess it was just never right with Adam. It took me way too long to figure it out. I think I might’ve figured it out sooner if we’d finished our date,” he mumbles absently, like he’s just thinking out loud.

Blaine has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling so damn hard.

They lay in easy silence for a moment, holding each other until a high pitched tinny noise interrupts them. Kurt whips out his phone and Blaine sees the Snapchat notification.

“Oh my god,” he sputters out incredulously.

“They really made a Quarantine filter,” Kurt says in awe.

Kurt unlocks his phone and presses the button to access the filter. It’s greyscale, with a blinking red dot in the corner, like it’s supposed to mimic a found footage movie. At the bottom of the screen is written “Day ___ of Quarantine”.

“Come on, let's take a picture,” Kurt says, casually hiking an arm behind Blaine’s neck and settling his head higher up in Blaine’s chest. He quickly snaps the picture of them cuddled up together.

Blaine watches Kurt, grinning when he types out the caption in two separate blocks of text.

Do you have your quarantine buddy? 

Yes, I have my quarantine buddy.

Part 8

[wristic]

Hey Yo! I still have nothing to post after all these months so I’m gonna throw an old wip I never finished into your face and hope you enjoy the idea I once had.

I might just like, do that, start throwing old wip’s in your face. Let me know if ya’ll are down with that.

Bittersweet Sea

So the idea was: Kwenthrith’s first born daughter, Moira, receives tragedy after tragedy. Mercia being sacked, her brother taking the line of succession, and then her mothers death. The pain of these events shapes her as it shaped Aethelwulf, into a vindictive and lethal individual, but Moira has one purpose to fulfill in her life. To follow in her mothers footsteps:  take Mercia back for herself, slay all enemies in between, and bring her promised country into greatness.

Sounds SO epic right? And I got like, a chapter and a sliver done. I’m glad I hadn’t posted the first chapter cause that would of disappointed so many people.

“No, you, you must live-”

Moira snapped her head up and saw a treacherous sight, as treacherous as those words. A girl of ten years, a Princess of Mercia, first born to Queen Kwenthrith, yet it was her younger brother being held close in a cloak and being shared the last bit of food where she was to starve.

The ice fall had been biting at her fingertips as badly as the hunger in her gut. Now, while they shared a coat, Moira hung a step behind, the heat of her near delirious rage had her feeling like walking through a midsummer's day. She kept so quiet they hadn’t thought to look back on her and she was glad for it. Moira wasn’t sure if she could keep to her courtesies and hide her newfound hatred for Prince Aethelwulf. He cared so much for her mother and brother did he, but not sweet little Moira, not the promised future Queen of Mercia. Moira would remember this day, if not for how grueling and terrifying it’s been, then to spite Aethelwulf in her court.

When nightfall came and it was too dark to venture further. Her mother left the tent instead of sleep, as she’d always been wanton to do. Moira knew why and it only infuriated her more. Sitting up in the pitch dark, Moira listened as the footsteps lead to the Prince's tent. Moira wasn’t sure if her heart could slam any harder in the heat of her fury. The insults just kept coming, again and again, Princess Moira being spurred to the side to entertain others.

“Mama?”

Moira couldn’t answer Magnus, could barely hear him. The droning sound of her teacher rehearsing laws filled her head. The laws, the damn laws, that was why her brother was more important. She’d show them. Mercia is already promised and no one was going to take away her mother's legacy.

Magnus tugged at her sleeve and she snapped at him.

“You’ve nothing but the blood of savages in you.” she snarled before slamming back down to the ground and tossing the blankets over her. Her breath was fast for the minutes of silence, until she heard Magnus start to sniffle. His sniffling turned to whimpering and finally the cold broke through her skin. Moira sighed, guilt bringing its own bout of cold to her stomach and rolled over to grab her brother and pull him close. She let him cry in her chest but she didn’t apologize. To calm him she ran her hand through the foreign sandy hair so opposite of hers and her mother's. The boy was soon back to sleep, or at least quiet, she’d be surprised if anyone could sleep in such cold with the nightmares of the past week running through their heads.

They started the walk before the sun was even out, the world held in a dim faded blue. The announcement they were almost in Wessex was a blessing to everyone, the journey going to be much easier than the past two nights.

Aethelwulf nudged Moira, “You’ve been very quiet.” She resisted glaring at him by looking in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry Princess. I know you’re hungry and cold-”

“I wonder why.” she grumbled, half hoping only she would hear. It was hard to keep her tongue bit with so much happening in so few hours. He glanced back at Kwenthrith who only smirked at him, he got himself in that mess.

“I don’t want you to hate me Princess, will you really not be sweet for me?”

Aethelwulf sighed and gripped her arms to face him when she didn’t answer, Moira a little surprised to find him on one knee. “If you feel like you’re suffering at your brother’s expense...I suppose it’s because you are. But I’m not doing it to hurt you, I’m doing it because I know you can take it. He’s a small boy, he can’t handle the elements like you can.”

Moira crossed her arms, straightening her back in defiance. “And the favor towards my Mother? I suppose that’s because she is small and weak too? Or would you call it my imagining.”

Aethelwulf scratched his beard trying to think of a good answer. “You...you know that as Queen she will always take precedence-”

“So I’m stuck in a limbo of unimportance is that it?!”

He squeezed her little riled up form attempting to ease Moira, so mad she looked like she was about to start kicking him, “No! No not at all!” Pulling her a little closer he bade her to listen. “Do not treat this as any sort of reveal on our nature, but yours.”

Moira crinkled her face clearly confused. “We’ve been treading through snow and enemy territory, no sleep, no food and you’ve still enough heat and energy to hate me like you do.” He was laughing a bit at the end but Moira only felt it was the hate itself that kept her going as it did.

“-and when Magnus comes of age-”

Moira ground her teeth, staring wide eyed in anger at the table.

“No, I think it best for Magnus to stay here-”

Her grip turned white on the chair, her feet threatening to kick the nearest leg.

“-but if Magnus-”

Moira slammed her fists on the table and stood. “Magnus, Magnus, Magnus!” she shouted at the top of her young lungs, “Always Magnus! I am the Princess of Mercia, I am the firstborn but you all talk of him like I don’t exist! Like I don’t matter now that he’s born!-”

Her mother put a gentle hand on Moira’s closed fist. “My sweet little Moira,” she almost smiled waiting for Kwenthrith to tell them wrong, to spur the laws and the years spent promising Moira would be Queen one day,

“You don’t.”

The two words were like a lance through Moira’s love. Tears filled her eyes out of pure shock, without a doubt the cruelest thing her mother had ever said before. Moira snapped back her hand and charged out of the room to cry.

Ecbert scoffed, tried to hide the disturbed lump in his throat. Little girls didn’t deserve such callousness. “That was a bit harsh wasn’t it?”

Kwenthrith only sighed into her cup, “If she wants to be smart enough to notice her irrelevance then she must learn to be strong enough to handle the truth.” she halfheartedly laughed before finishing her drink. “Why do you think I named her Moira. The second I saw no piece between her legs I knew. One day she’ll become her namesake, one day she would be like me,” Kwenthrith shook her head, “...a sea of bitterness.”

Moira refused to see her mother and brother after that. It was hard enough not crying while she was alone, how could she walk around the castle? It felt like betrayal. Having been told her whole life she would be Queen, to suddenly be told she was anything but.

A knock came on her room. “Go away!” She sniffled. But they didn’t, sneaking their way in.

It was King Ecbert, and the first thing he did was sigh. “I’m sorry Moira, that was cruel of your mother.”

“My mother is a cruel woman, to her enemies.” Moira’s voice caught and tears heated again. “She never lies to me and I’ve always thanked her for it. I feel her honesty has made me smarter than most.”

But the honesty was cruel sometimes, and the words you don’t taunted her. All a sudden Moira broke. She dropped the embroidery she was trying to focus on to ease her mind and covered her face sobbing again.

Ecbert was quick to be by her side, a fatherly hand pushing back her unkempt hair. “Oh gentle, sweet Moira. It was not honestly she gave you, it was only cruelty. To say you don’t matter…”

“But she's right,” Moira choked, “I might be first born but I’m no boy. They would never accept me. My mother is strong and cruel and they still don't accept her. How can I imagine a world any different-”

“Moira, you don’t need to be a Queen to be important. The people love you, we love you, the heart of Kingdoms will always be yours.” She looked to him and he smiled. “You don’t need a title for that.”

“But I want to be a Queen. The people need me to be their Queen.”

“Why do they need you to be their Queen?”

“It is my destiny to bring Mercia into greatness!”

The look he gave was pitying. It took everything in her little body not to glower at him. “Maybe it is...but it won’t be as a Queen.” Moira went to defend but his manner shifted, continuing, “The reason I came in here…” he pet her hair again, so nervous it made Moira uneasy. “Your mother has passed.”

She fretted in her seat, Ecbert holding her still as he talked over her again. “It happened in the night, it was very peaceful-”

“I want to see.” Moira demanded.

“I’m afraid that's not possible-”

“I want to see her!”

“Moira, listen to me,” he cupped her cheek, brushing her fresh tears. “Mercia and Wessex have united...under my rule.” It felt wrong to hear those words. The more she fought to deny what she knew he meant, the more sick she felt. Ecbert could see the conflict in her face, petting again. “But fear not, I will protect you and your brother. You are now my ward. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear it.”

One last tear fell and her sorrow turned to rage. Ecbert was her ally and he betrayed Kwenthrith, just like she said he would. He killed her mother, he carved out her lands for himself. And now he sat on his knees petting Moira because that's what she was now, a pet.

Gulping hard she had nothing left to say to him. “Please leave me to mourn then.”

Ecbert's hand slowly fell in disappointment. “I am...truly sorry.” Gracefully he rose. “I will take care of you as if you were my own daughter. I hope in time you will be happy here.”

The day Kwenthrith descended into her tomb, Moira cried, loudly and pitifully. She wanted them to see her so weak and fragile and broken. It was what they wanted to see too. Sweet little Moira crying from all the heartbreak in the world.

Ecbert was there, petting her away. Looking up at them Ecbert was pitying her with a grim smile. But Aethelwulf interested her more. He bore no light in his eyes, not even the twinkling of tears. She was surprised Ecbert didn’t feel the hole being burned into the back of his head.

Moira reached past Ecbert and tugged on Aethelwulf’s shirt. He blinked but that amount of hatred was hard to leave. Something told Moira his eyes would always be like that now, a hint of madness behind them. But he bent down to her, letting her bury her face in his chest and wrap her arms around his neck. She felt him sigh, picking her up and holding her tight.

He didn't put her down, not even as they walked back. With his distance from the others Moira dared to ask. “Did they kill my mother?”

Feeling him tense and look in the direction of his father, she didn’t have to explain. Voice carrying a vicious edge he was honest. “I believe so.”

Moira shuddered. “I thought as much. They said she died peacefully. Mother would never accept death with peace.” There was a moment, juggling an idea, whether she should or not. With a shifty eye she spoke evenly. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

Aethelwulf abruptly stopped, still as stone.

“I don't know if she knew, but there were some changes she was going through, like when she was pregnant with Magnus. There should have been two graves today.”

For a moment she could swear she felt the slamming of his heart, or maybe that was it shattering. Either way he held her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder to hide it, and she held him close. “Don’t cry Aethelwulf. It’s going to be okay. We’ll be alright, someday.”

Something mixed between a laugh and a cry bubbled up from him. Raising his head she could hear him smiling, “Oh Moira, Sweet little Moira. I am blessed everyday to know you.”

I will be Queen. Moira turned to him with a gentle smile and kissed his cheek. Even if I have to wear a crown of bones and sit on a throne of ash. Mercia will be mine.

[albatris]

WIP Tag!

thanks @cautiousgoose (@goose-scratch) for the tag! 

I’m sorry this took so long, and that this got so long, this is the first tag I’ve done in like a century, I've been like..... moving house n stuff, I've been busy, kind of

anyway

I'm doing this for all the doors becaaaause. I'm lazy. yup

What is the working title of your book?

"all the doors are open"!

Where did the idea for the book come from?

honestly I don’t remember specifically, I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually plan to Go Anywhere with this plot, I just started messing round with it for fun then decided to keep rolling with it

but ok, yeah, serious answer, I liked the idea of an apocalypse story that’s not so much ABOUT the apocalypse, y’know, like.... there’s this premise of the story, which is basically..... “reality is coming apart at the seams and the universe is literally unravelling under our feet, we have no idea how long we’ve got and we’re all fucking terrified” but then just.......... well, what are you meant to DO about that, really

so then you’ve got just a plain old story about people being people, going about their lives as best they can, against this weirdass apocalyptic backdrop, which was just an idea I was super drawn to

and I wanted to explore the ways I could have this objectively horrifying world, and present a story that’s upbeat and hopeful and fun. or, like, a story that’s by definition about The Destruction And The End, but have almost every theme around ideas about creation and hope and new perspectives

that was a concept I was really keen to mess around with and explore c’:

What genre is your current work in progress?

hell if I know, I'm bad at genres lmao

most of my stuff falls into the realm of fantasy/sci-fi, and I think ATDAO is a little more sci-fi leaning than fantasy...... but yeah my science is absolute nonsense bullshit with no real world basis whatsoever

it's internally consistent in its nonsense bullshit though and that's what matters

guess you could call it some kinda YA coming of age sorta thing. idfk. in my brain I liken it to the same genre as "the rest of us just live here" by patrick ness. y'know. a people story that just so happens to be set against a fantastical background

Choose actors for your movie rendition.

oh good lord no, I can't do faceclaims, I'm so unbelievably picky, we would be here for a month

the only acceptable ATDAO movie renditions are either with an entirely new cast of characters or with every single character being played by brooms in various wigs

Give a one sentence synopsis of your book.

"maybe the real door was the friends we made along the way!!"

no that's definitely not it, fucking ignore me

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agent?

ehhh that's Future Logan Problems

I'd give traditional publishing a crack but in all honesty I'll probably just decide I'm too lazy to do either and I'll just fuckin post it online and be like "there have it it's free it's yours go!" because lmao

How long did it take you to write your first draft?

ohohohoho let's not open that can of worms

What other books could you compare your story to?

uhhhhh

well I already said vaguely "the rest of us just live here" by patrick ness in terms of genre, that’s probably the best I can come up with, in that it’s definitely a Story About People that just so happens to have this weird fantastical backdrop

and I've had people tell me in the past that my writing voice reminds them of douglas adams (generally only when I go full Phoenix Building Chronicles lmao. but that is, coincidentally, exactly when I have the most fun)

there's also a matter-of-factness with which people just sort of sigh and Deal with the objectively horrifying nonsense that's constantly happening around them as reality ever-so-slightly entirely unhinges itself, which is something that can I guess be likened to bits of WTNV??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Who or what inspired you to write the book?

uhhhhhhhhh lots of people lots of places lots of things, but mostly like...... writing for me has always been one of the ways I process and explore the world, and..... I mean.... I sorta just write the sorts of stories I wish I’d had when I was younger, so in writing them I hope one day they’ll reach other people who need them. or want them. or whatever. aw that’s cheesy I’m gonna be quiet

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

bold of you to assume anything I've said so far has piqued the reader's interest

mkay there’s a lot I could mention here but I’ll take this opportunity to scream about something that is very important to me personally

so one of the main things for me is like....... I struggle so much to find stories with mentally ill characters that aren’t Capital A About mental illness. like. u know what I mean right. I know you know

mentally ill characters, they don’t really get to exist in fiction unless they serve a purpose or unless their mental illness is the entire point of the story, they don’t get to just go on a cool fuckin adventure because Fuck Yeah

like Tris deals with psychosis, he hears voices and has delusions, and Noa has what will eventually be diagnosed as borderline personality disorder, Shara and Kai and Alice have their own fuckery to deal with........... and like YEAH, the book’s discussions and depictions of mental illness aren’t ever something that’s watered down or played off as a joke, it’s one of the very few things I don’t poke fun at

but at its heart it’s still just a fuckin dumbass frolicking cross-dimensional sci-fi adventure. no nasty plot twists. no cheap gotchas. just a fuckin good time with a happy ending

anyway, it’s been a while since I’ve properly done a tag, honestly I have no idea who in writeblr likes to Be Tagged anymore and I definitely lost that list that was goin’ round........ also I feel like most of you have probably already done this one........ and ALSO it’s the middle of camp nano........ but I’m gonna tag some of my usual suspects and then some new faces, hello, feel free 2 ignore

@justaprettylittlesoulwriter @elliot-orion @christinewrites @itstheenglishkid @awolfthatwrites @breakeven2007 @spacebrick3 @chibi-shuuya aaaaand I lied I’m not tagging new faces that’s scary and I’m shy

[dancedance-resolution]

please do not reblog, this is just a personal little note

i’m really happy with how therapy went today

it was my fourth session with my new therapist. i think i like her a lot.

conversations with my new therapist feel a lot more natural than with the old one.

with her, i don’t feel the same sort of pressure that i did with my last therapist. my last therapist gave me extremely rigidly professional vibes. and this new therapist is still appropriately professional of course, but she’s also more casual. she always opens every session with a funny anecdote about her kids, and then sort of uses that as a segue to get me to share something similar, and then based on what i share, she asks a lot of questions that lead us to dive deeper.

conversely, my old therapist always followed a strict script. she first asked me to rate my mood on a scale of 1 to 10 (which i hated doing, because i never knew what my mood actually was other than “vaguely in the middle i suspect question mark”) (thank you alexythemia, lol). then she always asked “is there anything you want to talk about today.” and i would always shake my head no, because the question is too broad to know how to respond. and that’s something my mom and i actually worked on together - starting around age 17, before each session, we’d written down stuff i should mention. but i was rarely able to say the stuff i had prepared, because i couldn’t get myself to say the words (autism symptom maybe? idk). it’s a lot easier for me to talk when i have a narrow, specific question to answer, and if the other person has been talking for a bit before they expect me to talk. and my new therapist does both of these things

and i like that this new therapist is a bit similar to me. she’s fat. she doesn’t wear make up. she was raised catholic. oh, and she has visible tattoos - which i don’t have, but my point here is that she’s not the stereotypical picture of Health Professional. and she knows a lot more about adhd than my old therapist did, and she knows slightly more about autism than my old therapist did (which was Absolutely Nothing, lol).

also, i think that this change in therapists was necessary. i was with my old therapist for 5 years. i started seeing her when i was 14. she had a very specific perception of me based on how i was when she first met me at 14 - a perception which tainted the way she responded to my current problems. and that wasn’t a good thing for me, because my outlook on life and self-understanding have changed a lot since i was 14, in ways that i never was able to articulate to her properly. plus, i was always anxious to reveal anything new to her. like i was afraid she’d get upset if one day i was like, “hey bestie, i know i’ve been seeing you for 5 years already, but i’m just now going to bring up the fact that i’ve had issues with compulsively lying to my father since age 7 uwu.” (i know it’s irrational to fear “failing therapy”, but also, it’s not as irrational as it sounds. because when i was 18, my mom revealed to the therapist that i’ve always been the type of person to cry at the tip of a hat, and my therapist seemed kind of taken aback and frustrated that i never told that to her. and yeah, it is understandable that that would frustrate her, but it unintentionally made me feel really guilty and bad.)

also, this therapist definitely treats me like an adult more than the other one did. i think maybe my old therapist was still stuck on seeing me as that initial terrified 14-year-old. whereas this therapist gives me a lot more agency and has more trust in me to know myself and my needs. our sessions do follow somewhat of a routine, but it’s a routine we worked out together over the course of the first 3 sessions when she was trying to figure out how to make things comfortable for me. (example - at the first session, she asked me what i want out of therapy, and i said, “i don’t know.” she took me at my word, and she didn’t shame me for it. and i think that that experience sorta taught her that she needs to be more specific when asking me questions.)

i also like she’s very open with me about her perception of me. like, today, i told her about how i started crying when a staff member from my community college called me to confirm that i’d cancelled my classes for this summer semester. and my therapist expressed some surprise that i cried because [paraphrasing] “you always seem very put together and articulate during our sessions. sometimes i’m able to hear anxiety in your tone of voice about certain topics, but for the most part, you always seem very emotionally grounded during our sessions.” and her honesty gave us an opportunity to talk about masking. (also, i appreciate knowing that she can hear anxiety in my voice, because i had no idea that was a thing?? like i know you can hear when someone’s voice gets high-pitched and breaks like they’re gonna cry, but i‘ve never done that during one of our sessions? lol, so i guess this is a little fun fact i’ve learned about neurotypicals, that they can detect anxiety in ppl’s voices even if they’re not obviously on the brink of tears lol.)

a few specific things that happened at today’s session that were good:

when i talked about my sleep issues, she actually brought the conversation in a direction i hadn’t expected - she started asking if i’m putting too much pressure on myself regarding productivity. my initial answer was no - i unenrolled from my summer classes. i don’t have a part time job. i don’t have any traditional responsibilities. but upon discussing it, we kinda figured out that i am putting a lot of pressure on myself to enjoy the summer, because i have this sort of doomsday mindset of This Is My Last Summer Break Before I Have To Work Full-Time So I Must Take Advantage Of Every Moment To Enjoy Myself. and that’s unreasonable - it’s a pandemic, i’m recovering from bad burn out, and i’m trying to adjust to new meds. she actually said a lot of things about bodily consent and stuff that i’d already read in the book laziness does not exist, so it was sort of like affirmation and emphasis that those concepts are good, valid, and applicable to me.

she gave me some reassurance regarding my summer schedule. my alarm goes off at 6:20 every weekday morning so i can attend mass. (i’m an atheist, but the structure is very good for me.) but i’ve had some concerns that maybe waking up so early is unhealthy and also contributing to my sleep issues (i unintentionally wake up around 4 almost every morning, and i started to wonder if maybe that’s because my internal clock is anticipating waking up at 6:20). we discussed the pros and cons of waking up for mass in the morning, and she gave me her opinion that this schedule is probably good for me (she agreed with my pro/con assessment). and she also pointed out that i woke up at 6 every morning throughout high school without as much sleep issues, so it’s more likely that the sleep issues are from anxiety. (and i’m going on anxiety meds starting in early july, so we’re hopeful that that will help that a bit.) so yeah, i feel better about my mass schedule, and i feel reassurance that this is a reasonable and good plan. she also said that she was very proud that i had not only the idea to use morning mass as a source of structure but also the discipline to go every morning despite the early hour and despite the fact that i have no external force forcing me to go 🥺 which was nice to hear, because over years of having undiagnosed adhd, i received a lot of messaging that i lack self-discipline, so i was glad to hear the validation that she thinks i’m a disciplined person (at least regarding mass, lol)

we talked about my summer goals, and we talked about possible sources of non-stressful accountability. the current flexible plan is that i’ll keep track of everything i accomplish from that goal list and then share it with her at the end of each session so we can workshop what went well, why it went well, what i’m struggling with, and how i could maybe work through those things better.

i still feel very anxious about this whole therapy thing (i’m still very scared that i’m doing it wrong and not saying the right things), but i felt especially good after today’s session. like, i’ve been in therapy for 5 years. i felt like i plateaued in progress a while ago, so i’m really happy that i managed to get something out of today’s session!!!!! that hasn’t happened in so so long (low key if ever��..).

also. IM PROUD OF MYSELF for sharing stuff with her, correcting her when she misinterpreted one thing i said, and having a positive attitude about how today went 😎. and i’m proud of myself for fending off feelings of guilt that i spent so long typing this out (it’s not wasted time, because it’s helping me process what happened today), and i’m proud that i’m in a place where i’m open to going on anxiety meds.

my life is still a mess. i had a fun little breakdown not even an hour before the therapy session, in fact! but i’ve made some significant progress over these few months - i started meds, i switched therapists, and i started (and am sticking to) a new daily routine. and i had the courage to prioritize my health and cancel my summer semester classes, which was a really hard decision for me! oh, and i also finally published that smutty crucible fic that’s been in my wip folder for over a year!

my mental health is still extremely poor, lol. in fact, one could argue that i’ve regressed in many ways. but guess what bitch!! i don’t have skooter ankle ideation, and also, generally? IM MAKING PROGRESS. that’s what counts. i’m very happy about that, and i’m very proud of myself for that.