#I found the first chapter deep in my WIPs folder

[kipkoh]

Really fighting the urge to start posting another long fic until I at least finish 1 of the two I already have ongoing

[forget-me-maybe]

Snippet Sunday/WIP Monday/Am I late to the party?

since i missed that the lovely @kimberbohwrites tagged me yesterday we're doing this today!

i've seen that most of us have already done this so i'll just do an open tag for anyone who wants to share something!!!

anyway, the truth is that the last week(s) my writing has been... slow... nonexistent...

SO i looked through my wip-folder to see if i had anything to share and i found this wip that i wrote a while back but never finished (ehm).

it's a modern band au kind of. there's boobs but not anything more nsfw. cw lorroakan related abuse. also i write this as someone who doesn't know shit about music more than listening so warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing.

(and it's not completely done either but i need to throw something out here or i might just lose my mind. also here's to hoping it'll light some fire under my ASS)

here's chapter 1, maybe (it's long, like 4,5k words so buckle up):

~*~

Tav is late. It’s a normal occurrence, it just can’t be helped. She and time have never been in agreement with each other. But today she’s extra late. She’s already texted the band’s group chat to let them know she’ll be in the rehearsal space in fifteen minutes, but that was twenty minutes ago and she’s got at least another ten blocks until she’s there. 

It’s early Eleint and the heat still hasn’t seized its grip on Baldur’s Gate. Sweat beads on Tav’s forehead as she all but jogs through the streets, the straps of her bass case rub uncomfortably against her bare shoulders. 

At least she can find some comfort in the music blasting from her headphones. Polar Apes just released a new album and while it’s not their best (their first one is), it’s definitely not their worst (their fourth one is). 

Perhaps she’s distracted by the music, or perhaps it’s the harsh light from the sun that blinds her enough to run headfirst into something. Or someone. 

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snarls. 

The man she got a faceful of chest from scowls deeply at her, his tail swooshes irritably behind him. He’s tall and dressed elegantly in a turtleneck and a blazer. His shoulder length hair is tied back in a half-updo, a pair of browline glasses sit upon his long nose. He’s rubbing his chin, probably where one of her horns hit him. She should perhaps feel sorry, but his snarl didn’t make for a good first impression. 

“Well, fuck me I guess. I could say the same to you, fancy boy,” Tav bites back. 

Though one might not think it possible, the man’s scowl deepens. Tav doesn’t stop to think about it anymore, she’s in a hurry and makes a point of bumping his shoulder with hers as she passes by to continue her journey. 

“Wait!” the man calls out behind Tav, and against her better judgement, she actually stops. Not without releasing a deep sigh, though. 

“What?” she snaps and turns around with her arms folded over her chest. 

“I – zurgan – I’m looking for Ramazith’s College,” he says. Tav glares at him in return, of course he’s one of those arrogant snobs. The school is known all over Faerûn for its classical music programme. The headmaster, Lorroakan, has a reputation of being a piece of shit and nowhere near as talented as he makes himself out to be. But still, it produces some of the best musicians on this plane. “Could you, perhaps, point me in the right direction?” 

“If you say please.” 

“Excuse me?” he blurts out. Tav continues to glare at him, her tail taps impatiently at the cobblestone. The man looks like he’s going through all five stages of grief before he resigns and says the magic word. “Please.” 

“Alright, fancy boy.” She feels the side of her mouth curl into a lopsided smile, the man’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I don’t know how you ended up in Brampton, but you’re on the wrong side of town, so to say.” 

“Well, I’m fully aware a prestigious college like Ramazith’s wouldn’t be located in a wretched place like this.” He gestures around him, the rundown buildings of Bramton are decorated with colourful graffiti. The area has suffered some gentrification the last couple of years, but it still carries that rugged charm Tav loves with her home. “How do I get to the right side of town?” 

“The nearest metro is down that street.” She points to the street in question. “Hop off at the Wide and the college will be just a street down. It’s a huge tower, you can’t miss it.” 

“And… If I were to walk?” 

“Then you have a forty-five minute stroll in that direction,” Tav says and points… in the same direction she’s going. 

Zurgan, indeed. 

She weighs her options, either she walks with the arrogant man for another ten blocks or she takes a detour and actually risks getting kicked out of the band once and for all. The rapid buzzing from her phone in her front pocket makes the decision for her. 

“I’ll walk with you.” 

“There’s really no need.” 

“Not the whole way for gods’ sakes,” Tav explains. “I’m heading that way.” 

“I guess that’s acceptable.” 

Tav huffs, which is the only sound any of them make for their whole walk. Tav keeps a fast pace throughout the streets but the lanky tiefling has no problem with keeping up while she’s dripping with sweat in her shorts and tank top. 

When they finally arrive at the entrance of her rehearsal space. She should probably not lead him directly to what could be considered her second home but she figures she could send Karlach on him if he were up to any funny business. 

“This is me,” she says and points to the building. The man scowls as he takes in the scenery, clearly not impressed by the rundown property but at least he doesn’t say anything. Tav repeats her directions once more to make sure the man finds his way and with an awkward wave, he heads off. 

Tav shakes her head as she unlocks the old door and heads down to the basement. In the small room they call their studio Tav finds her friends, Lae’zel is behind her drums as usual and Karlach and Shadowheart are crammed in the small sofa. 

Tav puts on her most apologetic smile. 

“You’re late,” the githyanki says. “If you are not on time, how am I to trust you to be on beat?” 

“Have I ever disappointed you, Lae?” Tav smiles. 

“Yes,” Lae’zel deadpans. “Many times.” 

“Easy now, rockstars,” Karlach interjects, knowing full and well the smaller tiefling and the githyanki can get at each other’s throats if not interrupted. 

~*~

When Rolan arrived at Baldur’s Gate’s main station he had expected smooth sailing to his goal at Ramazith’s College. Getting the acceptance letter was a dream come true and he felt like his luck had finally turned. He’s always loved music but there was never enough money in the household for tutoring, just the old piano in the living room. Many evenings had been spent trying to get the hang of the sounds and make them sound beautiful together. Even more evenings had been spent learning how to read notes. 

He had not expected to get lost in a rugged part of the Lower City. He had not expected to run into that little tiefling carrying a guitar case. She had almost pierced his skin with her horn as she collided with him. In all honesty he hadn’t been paying attention at all, he was busy trying to read the street signs and figuring out where the hells he came from. 

Now she’s disappeared into a rundown building that doesn’t look safe at all. But her pierced nose, stretched earlobes and tattooed arms give the impression of someone who can handle themselves so he shouldn’t worry at all. 

Wrong. He shouldn’t worry because he doesn’t care. 

No, he’s got a forty-five minute walk in scorching heat, wearing too many layers to look forward to. He was just trying to look professional and now he’s going to have to get changed before he meets with Lorroakan. 

Damnation, he’s already late. 

He’s practically dripping with sweat as he arrives in the Upper City, but his thoughts are consumed with the magnificent tower in front of him. Pride and confidence flows through him, he’s finally where he’s supposed to be. 

~*~

It’s just fucking typical that her strings were to break three days before their gig. It’s also fucking typical she has no spare ones and hardly enough coin to get her through the month. But, at least they’ve been promised some drinks for the gig. It’s not a huge gig, just at their local in Brampton, but still they’d like to make a good impression. Who knows who might be listening? 

For such a big city as Baldur’s Gate, it should be considered strange that there’s really only one place for musical equipment - Sounderous Sundries. Tav doesn’t mind though, the building is as old as the town itself and the glass dome creates a colourful light around all the instruments that are on display. Especially the Gondian bass she’s been eyeing since the moment she was old enough to reach over the counter. 

This time her attention isn’t turned to the instruments, but to the man tending the front desk. It’s the same man that Tav helped find his way to Ramazith’s a month ago. He looks a bit worse for wear, a bruise marks his cheekbone, perhaps he just runs face first into people all the time. He notices her just moments after she notices him. 

“It’s you!” he blurts out. 

“It’s me,” Tav concurs. “What are you doing here?” 

“Working, I have to earn my keep somehow.” He straightens his back and clears his throat. “Welcome to Sounderous Sundries, how may I assist you today?” 

Tav can’t help but snort out a laugh at the pretend sincerity. 

“I need strings,” Tav says and points to her case on the back. “Gave up on me yesterday and we have a gig in three days.” 

“One should always have spare strings at hand,” he mock-scolds. Tav rolls her eyes.. “Please, follow me.”

Though Tav is fully aware where the strings are located and which ones she wants she decides to indulge him. He leads her to a shelf, one arm folded over his chest and his other hand under his chin. He’s kind of cute like that, she thinks. 

“You should come,” Tav says and gets a questioning look from the man. “To the gig! Could be good for you to listen to some real music instead of that pompous stuff you do at your school.” 

“Excuse me, classical music holds depth and intricacies no other can capture. You’re just uncultured.” He frowns. “But please, enlighten me, what sort of music do you play?” 

“Well, it’s kind of indie rock but with a garage feel and Shadowheart’s voice gives it a bit of a shoegaze vibe,” Tav explains. 

“You’re just making up words.” 

“Ugh, come see for yourself.” Tav digs through her pocket for her phone and opens a blank text. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details. I might even draw you a map!” 

“Alright,” he mumbles and types in his number on the phone. 

“Cool.” Tav grabs her usual pack of strings and heads towards the counter. 

~*~

After a long day at Sounderous Sundries, Rolan finally gets back to his small dorm room. It doesn’t hold more than a bed, a desk and a small drawer for his clothes but he doesn’t need more. Between school, work or getting “tutored” by Lorroakan he doesn’t spend much time there anyway. 

He pops down on his bed right away and looks through the messages he’s missed during the day. Twenty-five unread messages in the family chat, something about Danis’ birthday. He makes a mental note of sending him a happy birthday later. 

There’s one message from an unknown number, contrary to his better judgement it makes his heart flutter a little bit. 

”hey, it’s tav! the girl from the store n the street. we’re playing at the nightowl, moss promenade 42. on stage at 11pm (we hope). bring friends if u like. see u there! ✨ ”

Oh, she writes like a teenager. His pulse stabilises. 

And bring friends? He hasn’t had time to make any friends. But it would seem strange to show up by himself, if Cal and Lia were here he’d ask them, of course. He could ask the chatty trombonist in his musical history class. He’s a bit annoying but at least he won’t be sitting in the pub alone like some creep. 

“Hi Tav! Good to finally put a name to your face. I’m Rolan by the way. Though I should focus on my studies, perhaps experiencing this “real music” of yours will broaden my knowledge. I shall see you there.”

It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz again. Is she one of those people who are always on their phone? 

“nice to meet u, rolan! 🌸 grab a drink with me after the show? 🍻 ”

Cal has been on about that he shouldn’t answer people right away, but Rolan’s never really understood the meaning of that. Making someone wait just seems impolite. 

“Nice to meet you too, Tav. I could be persuaded to have a drink or two.”

“betcha i can make it three 😏”

He grins to himself, and types before thinking: 

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.”

Hells, did he just send that? Yes, message sent. No little red exclamation mark. No divine intervention to make his phone dysfunction at this very moment. He throws his phone to the end of his bed and groans into his hands. 

The phone buzzes again and he considers throwing it out the window instead, maybe even throwing himself with it. Avoid whatever scolding she’s got coming for him, change jobs, move to another town. 

But, his curiosity can’t be sated. With a flick of his tail he retrieves the phone. 

“haha maybe i will be 😈 ”

Oh. 

~*~

They’ve set up, sound-checked and warmed up. Everything is as it should be. Still, Tav is nervous. It’s stupid, they’ve played here a couple of times before and they always have a great time. Yet tonight she can’t help but glance out at the crowded bar. 

She doesn’t want to admit she’s searching for a certain face. But she’s definitely searching for a certain face. 

They’ve texted every evening since she got his number and she really thought he’d be here. He gives the impression of enjoying their chats at least. Perhaps she’s just naive. 

“Stop your senseless pining,” Lae’zel scolds her. 

For once in her life, Tav actually agrees with the drummer. She sits down on the sofa in the crowded backstage space that can’t be more than a repurposed cleaning closet. Shadowheart flicks away Tav’s tail that was tapping impatiently against her knee and Karlach shoots her a comforting smile. It’s just a couple of minutes until showtime and she has to get her nerves in order. 

Finally, it’s go time and Tav all but bounces out on stage. In a corner she couldn’t see from the angle backstage, she spots Rolan and a brown haired human by a table. He raises his tankard to her and she shoots him a grin. 

She’s ready. 

Lae’zel counts them in and then they’re off. Tav’s fingers move across the strings at what feels like their own accord, it’s instinct to her and it seems the same magic is working at the rest of the band. Shadowheart’s voice has never been clearer, Karlach solos rip through the whole locale and Lae’zel doesn’t miss a single beat. 

They’re fucking tight. 

Time stops and moves too fast at the same time. Tav is so lost in the moment she doesn't notice their thirty minute gig has run its course until she hears Shadowheart’s voice. 

“We’re Last Light, thank you all for coming!” 

Tav pants and takes a bow toward the cheering crowd before she turns to her bandmates. Even Lae’zel has a hint of a smile on her face. 

“Ladies, you fucking slayed out there!” Tav blurts out and pulls them all into a hug once they’re back in their little cupboard. 

“Right back at ya, rockstar!” 

“You did not disappoint me today.” Lae’zel deadpans. 

“Next time we should play somewhere bigger,” Shadowheart adds. “And for money.” 

They all agree and share one more hug before they make quick work at taking down their equipment. They receive compliments from some of the regulars at the bar and then finally, <i>finally</i>, Tav can get her promised drink for the show they put on. The bartender is even happy enough with their performance to promise them a second and third round. 

Tav gulps down the beer while avoiding other patrons as she manoeuvres herself to the table in the back corner. The men at the table are busy with some discussion that Tav just can't figure out for the love of her life. They seem to be in disagreement though, deep frowns on both of their faces. Tav makes herself known with a small laugh and golden irises turn to her. 

“That was noisy,” Rolan states as a matter of fact. 

“Always a charmer,” Tav teases and sits down next to him. 

“I enjoyed getting a new experience under my belt,” Rolan continues in the same tone. 

“Oh, so close to a compliment.” Tav pats Rolan’s shoulder condescendingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.” 

“You’re talented.” A smile spreads on his lips and one of his canines gets stuck on his lower lip. Tav almost chokes on her ale from how utterly adorable it is. 

“Thank you,” Tav mumbles, a blush creeping up on her face, probably turning her usual blue hue into an embarrassing shade of plum. 

In order to regain some decorum she turns to introduce herself to the other man by the table. Within seconds chatter fills the air around. The three of them share stories and laughter. Tav talks about Baldur’s Gate, recommending places to visit and which tourist traps to stay away from. In return she gets to hear about Waterdeep and Elturel. 

When the rest of the band joins the table (“Scoot, everything else is full.”) Rolan wraps an arm around Tav’s waist to pull her with him as he slides down the bench. She tries really hard not to think about how his hand stays on her hip as the night continues on. 

When the last call rings she doesn’t want it to end. 

~*~

“Wanna get a nightcap?” Tav asks. She and him have fallen behind the others on their hunt for a late night meal. 

“I would like to,” Rolan says, furrowing his brows. “But everything is closed.” 

“Oh, I meant at my place,” she says, her face getting that lovely plum hue he noticed earlier in the pub. “But I get it if it’s too forward.” 

Too forward? He’s been too forward all night, holding onto her waist like he owns her. When he had noticed what he had done it was too late to apologise without it getting even more awkward. 

“Okay,” he says, not fully pleased with how pleadingly it comes out. “I mean, yes, I’d like that.” 

“Fantastic! Prepare for a bit of a hike.” 

She grabs his hand and pulls him down a side street. Though it technically isn’t a hike to her flat, just a three minute walk, there are five flights of stairs to climb before reaching Tav’s home. Rolan is panting once he gets to her floor but she doesn’t seem fazed at all. Must be used to it by now. 

Her studio flat is small but charming, cosy even. There’s just enough space for a sofa and a small dining area, and a bed with what seems like an excessive amount of pillows. Posters of different bands he doesn’t recognise decorate the walls. In one corner her bass and an amplifier stand in a messy nest of cables. A thick, maroon carpet fills the floor and she’s extremely stubborn to make him take his shoes off before venturing further into her home. 

The nightcap in question is a choice between a bottom shelf whiskey and an equally low-shelved red wine. He lets her choose for them and releases a small sigh of relief when she grabs two wine glasses. 

Once the glasses are filled, she leans against the kitchen counter. A comfortable silence falls between them as icy blue eyes stare into his golden ones. 

“I think I should thank you,” he muses. 

“Whatever for?” 

“For inviting me tonight.” He takes a step closer to Tav. 

“Hm.” She chews her lip. 

“Hm?” 

“I think you should kiss me.” 

“Ah, with pleasure.” 

With one hand placed just above her tail he pulls her flush to his chest. Their lips meet carefully at first, exploring and testing out each other. It doesn’t take long for mouths to open, she tastes of the cheap wine and something he can’t place, something that’s just her. 

Careful steps lead him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, bringing Tav with him, her legs ending up on each side of his thighs. He can’t help but grin against her lips. Eager hands pull at all layers of fabric separating them, Tav’s tank top disappears first, then the zipper of her high-waisted shorts. 

He lies back to admire her plump breasts and soft belly that he wants to run his tongue all over. At the same time she works with the buttons of his shirt and all blood must’ve been redirected to his cock because he doesn’t remember what he looks like underneath the thin cloth before lustful eyes turn into pitying ones. 

“Rolan,” Tav whispers. “What happened to you?” 

His blood freezes. 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he tries to brush it off but his voice catches ever so slightly. 

“I am many things but I’m no fool.” She gets off of him and sits down to the side of the bed. “I know a beating when I see one.” 

He doesn’t want her to look at him like that, with pity, like he’s some wounded animal she needs to take care of. 

“I said it’s nothing for you to worry about,” he snaps, standing up and buttoning his shirt back up. 

“Please, Rolan.” She grabs his hand. “Who did this to you?” 

He yanks his hand back. 

“I said leave it,” he hisses. “I don’t need your pity.” 

And with that, he leaves Tav’s flat. Slamming the door behind him with a force that invites no argument. 

The streets are empty and cold as he heads home, the metro stopped running an hour ago, but his fury keeps him warm. How could he let his guard down like that? Allow her to within days tear down walls he’s worked hard on to build up. 

No, he’s going to have to rebuild those walls, higher than ever before. He needs to be strong. And he’s stronger alone. 

~*~

She fucked up. Utterly and completely fucked up. Tears stream down her face and it’s so fucking stupid, she’s only known him for three days. And she shouldn’t be crying, he’s the one who’s getting hurt, clearly not ready to talk about it, and she kept prying and prying. 

Fuck! 

She buries her face in her pillow and screams for all she’s got. Somewhere along the night either the alcohol or exhaustion from sobbing claims its victory and she falls into sweet oblivion. 

As she rolls out from her bundle of blankets to slam down on her alarm clock, it’s not only her head that hurts. Her chest aches from how things were left off last night. Without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sends the first text. 

“rolan i'm sorry. i shouldn’t have pried like that”

She gets no answer. She doesn’t really expect one either but she’s still disappointed. 

“i get it if u don’t wanna talk i just need to know if ur alright and got home safe”

Of course he won’t be alright. 

“i’m sorry”

“please just let me know ur safe”

As safe as he can be. 

Shaky hands prepare coffee as she steals glances to the phone on her bed, hoping for the screen to light up before she has to jump into the shower. 

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t light up as she gulps down her coffee and chews down a dried up croissant. It doesn’t light up as she dresses herself for the day. It doesn’t light up as she makes her way to the bistro where she waits tables. 

Tav doesn’t hate her job, she doesn’t like it, but it’s work and she needs the coin. Today’s different though, she can’t even blame it on the hangover she’s rocking, she usually finds work a good distraction to a pounding head. But still the hours drag themselves by and every time she glances at the clock, she finds that no more than a couple of minutes have passed. 

At her lunch break, as she sits in the alley behind the bistro, she finally has time to see if Rolan has answered. Her heart stings to see the only message she’s received is from Karlach. 

“HOW DID IT GO WITH FANCY BOY? 👀 ”

Tav sighs and types. 

“not well, he walked out. my fault tho”

“I’M SORRY TAV. WANNA TALK ABOUT IT?”

“idk i have to get my thoughts in order”

“I GET IT BABES <3 LEMME KNOW IF U CHANGE UR MIND”  

The hours crawl by for the whole day, once she gets home she tries to pluck some lines to a new song they’re working on but nothing sounds right. She tries to listen to the latest Rana De Frey to see if she can feel something else, but even her usually patient neighbours are tired of her bullshit and shut her down with a couple of loud bangs to the wall. 

Just as she’s about to give up for the night, she gets the text she’s been waiting for. 

”I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

~*~

Rolan isn’t sure what he did to set off Lorroakan this time and why extravagant boots keep hitting his abdomen. Every time he thinks he’s got the man figured out something the headmaster takes an unexpected turn and punishes him for something new. 

Perhaps he will never figure him out. 

Perhaps that’s the point.

Something clicks. He almost feels it physically in his mind. 

He’s either going to die in the hands of Lorroakan or he has to get away. 

He knows he’s gambling his future, but he at least he’s not stupid enough to gamble with his life. 

The problem with being in a new city where he hasn’t had time to make any connections is that there’s no one to ask for help from. There was someone who wanted to help him once, but he ruined that chance a month ago. 

Perhaps she’ll forgive him if he just talks to her. Hah, he doesn’t remember getting a blow to his head but he’s clearly not thinking straight. 

But what other choice has he got? He just needs somewhere to go to recover a bit and then he’ll figure out the next steps. 

Though every part of his body aches and pain surges through him with every raspy breath, he stumbles across town. People send him looks, ranging from pitying to pure disgust but no one lends a hand. Bloody Baldurians, he thinks. 

It takes him three attempts to remember the code Tav pressed in. He ignores the iron taste in his mouth and is probably running purely on adrenaline as he makes it up the stairs to her flat. He bangs on the door. 

No one answers. 

And he’s so godsdamned tired. He could go look for her at her rehearsal studio, but his legs won’t carry him any further. He slides down with his back against the wall. 

He’ll wait here for her. He just has to rest his eyes for a bit.

[dewdropreader]

WIP Folder Tag Game

The lovely @insert-witty-user-name-here has tagged me because she knows the absolutely unhinged amount of WIPs in various stages that I have lol. But I also love sharing them out of context and talking about them because that often motivates me so here we go! And thank you!

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents (or as many people as you want). Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!'

I went in rough order from most recently created/worked on to older ones so you can see how at some point I just stopped counting my found family and general “Time Crew” based ideas because I lost track lmao.

Sleeping around untrustworthy people 5+1

Gator Pres Reconciliation

Cat chapter 8

Prayer TC

Collapse TC

God of Outcasts Returning

Found Family- Frost Giants

Hugsssss 5+1

Big Sister Sylvie

Do you have a better plan—(the original Drabble is done and posted but there is a part two WIP in the same doc!)

TC- Ghosts

Found family- Guilt

Freeze- TC

Protective- TC

Birthdays- TC

Love Letters- TC

TC- Restored

TC- Playground

Time Crew Fic 9- Void Road Trip

Touch Starved TC

TC Reassuring

TC Unfairness

A few I have mentioned before ina few tag games like this because some have festered in WIP hell for that long 😅 though I’m not including every single much older one, just a few of my favorites and/or ones that actually have something there to work on! But for any new people/people who didn’t see these!!

Sylvie and Peggy Vs the End of the World

Sylkius Christmas

Loki Found Family 5- Boastful

Found Family 8- Kid and Genderfluidity

TC- Kitchen Sink

And a few I haven’t made documents for but I have little notes made about them in one larger document called “All Loki Ideas” where I compile them and highlight different colors based on if they’re done or in progress or new/untouched ideas and organized by category or ship so if I have a particular person/ship I want to write but no solid idea I can go hunting lol. Some descriptions are all I have and others I just put in the first sentence and there is more!

Loki waking up with a nightmare/panic about Mobius not knowing him, and Mobius helping him calm down and reassuring him that he knows and loves him

Exploring the deep empathy and attempts at understanding Mobius felt when having to go through Loki’s life

Lokius inspired by songs/lyrics (there are lyric snippets and/or actual ideas for most of these if anyone is curious! Also yes there is a lot of Taylor Swift, sue me 😅)

Superman-Taylor Swift

Cardigan-Taylor Swift

Happy endings are stories that haven’t ended yet- mayday parade

London boy- Taylor swift

The man who can’t be moved-the script

When the day met the night- panic at the disco

The joker and the queen- ed sheeran

New Year’s Day- Taylor Swift

Delicate- Taylor swift

I’m yours- the script

Haunted- Taylor swift

Loki having a nightmare about Sylvie (and Mobius?) dying, and having to contend with it

Lokius reunion (this was noted before s2 even came out but hey guess it circled back to being relevant 😭)

Mobius and Loki (and Sylvie?) moving into a home together and having small domestic moments like having a “picnic” on the floor

Drunk Sylkius- Sylvie and Loki drunk and arguing about who’s more hedonistic

Drunk Sylkius- Folksy Dope fan club with sylvie and loki goofing off and praising and gushing over Mobius

B-15 and Sylvie spending time together, sorting out feelings

C-20 and Sylvie growing closer after she is rescued

If any of these are interesting to you, and you want to know more/see a snippet (if one exists!) please let me know, I love rambling about all of these ideas and sometimes talking about them gives more inspiration! 💕

Certainly will double tag some people (and am going to tag the originator in her own game lol bc I also want to see her stuff!) but that’s expected from me!

@insert-witty-user-name-here @starport-seven-five @mirilyawrites @lgwilt @dreamycloud @cha-melodius @blackbirdofasgard @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @nostalgia-tblr @bushs-world @queen-of-meows

And anyone else who would like to share!!

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

fanfic that I'll never touch again sounds interesting!

Thanks for stopping by! (From the WIP title game)

Interesting indeed.

This is the folder where I keep the shitty fanfiction I wrote from ages 13-16. I have nothing against fanfic except for my own :)

Fanfic #1- Warriors Cats

Sparrowpaw looked around and realized he wasn’t in SunClan territory anymore. “Where am I?” “StarClan’s hunting grounds,” Rosecloud answered. “Sparrow- paw, please don’t pester Daisypaw. She must walk her own path.” Sparrowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But the prophecy-” “Daisypaw has her own destiny,” Rosecloud interrupted. “Then what was the point of the prophecy?!” Sparrowpaw screamed. “The prophecy was so you could be prepared,” Rosecloud said, calmly. “When it comes true, you need to help Daisypaw. But only you. You can’t tell anyone about the prophecy. You must follow your destiny….”

I did my own OCs, my own Clans, and it really helped me grow as a writer. I made my first outline, tried writing morally gray characters. I actually had a decent plot! Problem was pacing. I may revisit the ideas I had but make it original.

Fanfic #2- Hamilton AU

“Pardon me,” a voice behind Aaron said. “Are you Aaron Burr?” Aaron took a deep breath. It was early. But he couldn’t ignore whoever this was, or they’d keep annoying him. Also, who says “pardon me” anymore? “That depends,” Aaron said, putting his book down and turning around to the kid who had spoken. One of the advantages of being quiet was you could pay attention to everyone around you. Aaron might not know their names, but he knew everyone here by what they looked like. And the kid in front of him did not look familiar. “Who’s asking?” Aaron asked.

I wrote like a singular chapter of a Middle School AU and this is the least painful part of it. Don't make me discuss this further.

Fanfic #3- MCU AU

Idk if a vaguely described birth needs a content warning, but heads up

Peggy’s screams ring through the air, causing a pain to pierce my stomach, though I know the pain is not as bad as what she’s going through. “Just breathe,” the midwife, Dorothy, says. “YOU BREATHE, DAMMIT!” Peggy screams, tears flowing down her face. “Peggy! Peggy!” I say, kneeling down next to her. I take her hand. “Peggy, look at me. It’s going to be okay. It will be over soon—” “GO TO HELL, STEVEN!” Peggy lets out a cry as she has yet another contraction. “Okay, Peggy, I need you to push,” Dorothy says. Peggy screams again as she pushes. She squeezes my hand and I let out a cry of pain. My fingers are losing their color as she squeezes tighter, and tighter. “I can see the head!” Dorothy exclaims. “Push, Peggy, push!” I close my eyes as I see Peggy go through some of the worst amount of pain a human being can experience. I can’t watch her like this. It hurts too much.

It was an AU in which Steve Rogers was not frozen in ice. I cannot read further than this because I was in physical pain from cringing.

Uh may reread it someday but not yet.

Fanfic #4- Supernatural

Content warning: leviathan decapitated head description

It was my oldest, Jamie, who found it in the yard. I was inside when I heard her scream. I raced outside as fast as I could, only to find my daughter standing in the hole we’d dug in search for more oil. She was covered in dirt, and appeared to have dropped the shovel she’d been using. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. Jamie just looked down at her feet, eyes wide in terror. I slowly crept toward her, thinking maybe she’d found a colony of worms or something. But when I leaned over the side of the hole, what I saw caused my heart to stop. At first glance, it appeared to be the head of a man, but his face was anything but human. There was no face. It was just a wide, open mouth with rows of sharp teeth. I was in so much shock, I didn’t realize that the creature’s head was not connected to the rest of its body, which was nowhere to be found. The deformed head was alone, sitting in a pool of black liquid that I’d once assumed was oil, but was now certain that it was the monster’s blood.

All I wrote was this prologue but it ain't bad. Just had no ideas, but this guy, Steven, is an OC

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! I didn't!

[galpalaven]

WIP Wednesday Whenever

got tagged by @sustainably-du-mortain for a WIP Wednesday so have a peek at the next chapter of my Wayhaven rewrite!! Content Warning: Discussion of the body of a murder victim

“The guy that found him had a whole lot of trouble even getting through to him, but when he did…”

Saoirse trails off with a shaky sigh, wincing as nausea washes over her. It had been her first real death case, and for it to have been someone so young — it had fucked her up a little, though she had refused to acknowledge it. 

“From what I remember, you said there’d been fresh snowfall the night before?” Ruth asks, pressing forward without forcing Saoirse to focus on the body.

Saoirse nods, rubbing at the back of her neck to try and ease some of the tension building there. “Yeah. It hadn’t snowed since probably 5 AM that morning, so the snow was fresh and untouched, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Mhm. The only footprints we found were from the dog and the man who found him. The weird part was that there wasn’t any snow on top of the body.”

Quiet settles over the two of them at the revelation. Saoirse can almost hear the gears turning in Ruth’s head at the implications — or rather, non-implications. It doesn’t make any sense, by all accounts. No dragging marks, no footprints of the killer leaving. It was as if he had simply… appeared in the middle of the forest, stone dead and barely clothed. 

The silence lasts until, finally, they come upon the clearing.

For a moment, the glade flashes, and suddenly all she can see is the blinding white snow and the delicate, pinkish stain of Mateo Juarez’s slit wrists on the powder. The snow had been deep that day, nearly half a foot from the previous weeks worth of snowfall. The boy hadn’t bled on the snow at all, from what she’d been able to tell, but the leftover blood on the wounds had transferred to the snow when he’d been dumped.

Saoirse blinks, and the green of summer returns.

Ruth is already pulling out the file of crime scene photos by the time Saoirse manages to force herself to move farther into the clearing. 

Her friend moves around the dumpsite with a strange, lingering sort of gait that Saoirse curiously watches. Sifting through the photos, Ruth lines up where the body was based on the images — doesn’t even bother to ask Saoirse if she’s right, because she seems to know that she’s got it exact. Saoirse watches as she pulls more photos out, walking to the treeline as if mimicking a set of footprints and then pausing again, squinting at something in the folder.

“What is it?” 

Ruth hums, turning the folder to the side as if that will give her a better angle on the images. A beat passes, and then she clicks her tongue. “I think there’s another set of footprints.”

“What?” 

Saoirse jogs over to her side, frowning. Surely, she wasn’t stupid enough to miss an entirely different set of tracks, was she?

Ruth points at the picture she’s been considering, holding the folder out so Saoirse can see. “It’s not an entire set,” she says, drawing her finger in a circle on the photo, “but I think there are two shoeprints right… here.”

Saoirse leans in, trying to remember what the scene had looked like on the day. The shoeprints Ruth has indicated are, indeed, not connected to a set of tracks. They’re not even whole shoeprints — only the slightest curve outside of the body’s outline, as if only the back half of the person’s footprints hadn’t been covered by the indentation of the body into the snow. 

But… where were the rest of the tracks, then?

Where indeed? I haven't been working on this as much as I should have been because I got sidetracked by playing Final Fantasy 14 for the first time BUT I am still working on it!!! not going to tag anyone this round but thanks for the tag!!!

[hide-in-imagination]

12, 14, & 23 for the WIP ask game :D

Thank you!

I'll answer these based on Roads That Cross since that's the WIP you all know-- if anyone wants to ask about another I haven't posted yet, go ahead!

12. Will/do you have multiple drafts or versions of your WIP, and if so, what draft or version are you on right now?

Oof, oh my god. Um, well, as you all know I've been working on Roads for 5 years now, and I don't write in chronological order, so I've basically had 40 different Word documents on my folder for a long time, each for every future chapter. Some scenes have changed throughout the years, mainly because my writing has evolved and because I've gotten better ideas for them since the first time I ever came up with them. I usually just delete what I don't like and rewrite it, but, there are some scenes, especially from chapter 30 and afterward, that are very important and so I don't want to lose anything, no matter how it might no longer fit with the vision I currently have. For those scenes in particular I do keep the old drafts, usually at the bottom of the same document, so that I can go back to the original versions of it and maybe rescue some sentences or feelings that I consider important. Sometimes, it's not about the scene not working out but that I have a lot of different ways that it could go, and they all work in their own way, but I know I'll eventually have to choose just one or mix it all into one because I can't have 10 different versions of the same conversation kjsdn (yes, they're usually dialogue scenes that get the most drafts.) Um, I'd say those scenes are in version #3 by this point ? The oldest dating from 2018 or 2020, then some changes in 2021, and... I can't remember if the last time I touched them was this year or last year. But yeah, that about sums it up🙌🏻

14. What has been the hardest thing about working on this WIP so far?

Not losing motivation, I'd say. It's been a long journey. I'm constantly reading other fics since that's my favorite way of passing time, and while that's partly good for my creativity, it is also kind of discouraging because I'm constantly just seeing people writing way better than I do, and way faster than I do at that, so when you see someone cooking 7k words chapters every week, you kind of look at yourself and go Damn, what the hell am I doing?

It's a little sad to realize you don't really have a talent so you have to work 10 times harder just to reach the level of someone that whips out 12k words like it's nothing. Of course, I could defend myself saying they're writing in their native language while I'm not, but honestly, I know it wouldn't make a difference. My writing would still be the same if I wrote in Spanish, and, in fact, I think it would take me even longer to write because I would be cringing all the time ksjfskjd.

Anyway, in summary, keeping it going has been the hardest part, but I just try to remind myself that I don't need to be Shakespeare, and that, by this point, I just want to finish it so I can put it to rest, so it shouldn't be a big deal and I try not to let it affect me😂

23. What is the weirdest thing you’ve had to google for this WIP so far?

Oh my god, remember "With a new perspective" ? I spent months, MONTHS, googling about bathrooms 🤣🤣🤣 I JUST- again, English is not my first language, so I wasn't sure how to describe the things in Ámbar's bathroom, and hell- not even in Spanish I knew how to call some stuff 😂 Plus, first I had to come up with a mental image of it, so I went on a deep dive on Google Images, Pinterest, etc. And when I found something that I liked, then I had to discover how that specific shape of furniture was called. I became an expert on all the kinds of bathtubs there is 😂😂 I was so insane that my best friend even joked about it, sending me tiktoks "just so you can look at the bathroom" 🤣🤣 The worst part is, the bathroom descriptions weren't even important in that chapter compared to everything that was going on😂😂 But for me it was really important that everyone knew Ámbar had a ceiling-to-sink, wall-wide mirror and that she calls it "the usual bathroom mirror everyone has" because it was funny to me that she believes that's the normal when my bathroom mirror is literally like 40x20cms 😂😂

Anyway, I better stop ranting now. Thank you for the ask! <3

If anyone else wants to do it, the questions are right here.

[mikaharuka]

Find the Word Tag!

So, I was tagged by @mrsmungus a few days ago for this game. The rules are simple - find the word (or something close enough) in a fic (WIP, published, whatever works) and share the excerpt it is in!

Words I was given: master, pulse, shiver, smile, end/ended

Your words to find: drink, black, sun, laugh, silence

Tagging to play (no pressure, of course): @sliebman10, @tsunderewatermelon, @axolotlsupremacyowo, @udaberriwrites, @hylianjo, @lena-hills, @kayedium-writes, @precambrian-sea-pancake, @oceangirl24, and anyone else who feels like joining with the open tag! Really, I just tagged so many people lol

NOTES:

*All the excerpts are from my long-fic, Apricity. I wanted to include context, so this post does run a bit longer...

*NSFW warning for the third one - "shiver". This is in an erotic dream.

*I combined the fourth and fifth ones - "smile" and "end/ended" - so I went with a longer excerpt for those two words.

*Discord Server Folks! (you know who you are XD) - the last excerpt is a scene that is setup for the paint fic ('We Need To Talk About Rosalie'). Tbh, that scene is all the context you'll need for the fic, so I did include the entire scene to spare y'all in the future~ XD

Now, with all of that out of the way... onwards!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Master - So... I went with 'mastermind' for this one. I did find a "master bedroom" mention in the first chapter when Beau was moving into his new house, but this was much more interesting~

[From Mocha Hypothesis - Apricity, Ch 9]

Was Edward a bad guy? “… you’re not wrong. I suppose you could be a bad guy.” Confusion marred Edward’s features. “Then why do you-” “It depends on what you mean by bad, though.” Edward looked incredulous. “Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of bad could I be, then?” “Bad as in inferior? No way. Not with your looks or abilities.” “Haha, fair enough,” Edward chuckled. “Bad as in unpleasant? You’ve had your weird moments, but we get along well.” “Maybe… with you and your friends in bio, at least.” “Bad as in evil? Not impossible, but I doubt it.” Edward clicked his tongue. “Isn’t that careless to dismiss?” “Right, because an evil mastermind would live as a high schooler in a small town.” “…I suppose it would be difficult to carry out evil plans.” “Bad as in dangerous, though… maybe. Magic is dangerous, after all.” “Do you think I’m dangerous?” Edward asked, looking on edge. "Hmm... I don't know, but I don't think so. Not from what I know of you, at least." "You don't know very much about me." "True, but everything I've seen so far points against it. Same goes for your brother." "My brother?" Edward scoffed. "Carlisle's easily the most dangerous of all." Beau's breath hitched, wondering what Edward meant by that.

-

Pulse - Found it in the hospital scene/inciting event, naturally. Also found it in the NSFW chapter, but most of the incidences are actually in Sangria/Midnight and are in spoiler-ish parts, so I'll pass on those.

[From Cerise Blossom - Apricity, Ch 6]

He turned back to face Beau. "Did you feel any pain or have any issues with balance?" "No, it went well. I didn't notice any problems." "And now? You mentioned a mild headache earlier, but do you feel anything else?" “I’m a little dizzy,” Beau looked down. “I just noticed a slight chest ache too.” “Alright. That is not abnormal.” The doctor set the folder down and maneuvered his stethoscope. “Take a few deep breaths for me.” He pressed the chest piece to just under his left collarbone, causing Beau to shudder as cool fingertips gently brushed against his skin and moved across his chest with each breath. Beau closed his eyes and tried to calm the racing heartbeat he was certain the older man could hear. It was a futile effort, though, as the spikes of heat that blossomed beneath the man’s fingers only fueled his already racing pulse even faster. Combined with the alluring scent - of sandalwood and vanilla with a hint of spice and a trace of disinfectant - that invaded his senses with each deep breath, Beau felt a soft haze set in. “Now breathe normally. I need to listen to your heart function.” That only made Beau’s heart race faster. The only thing keeping him grounded was the knowledge that the doctor, Edward, and his dad would be able to see his every reaction.

-

Shiver - This one showed up 6 times... with half of them from Azure, the one NSFW chapter I have so far (erotic dream + vampire sex). Since I'm here, might as well do the most NSFW of the three XD

[From Azure Mystique - Apricity, Ch 11]

'Open for me, beautiful boy' Unable to resist the siren’s call, Beau felt his legs simply fall apart as he collapsed onto the warm earth, when slick lips captured his own once more. A stronger metallic taste permeated the kiss once more as the man’s hands wandered even lower. Just as Beau was about to give into the haze once more, the man pulled away abruptly and another rip of fabric reverberated through the forest. Goosebumps spread rapidly and shivers rippled across skin newly exposed to the cold air. It felt empty, alone - something was missing. Beau looked up at ruby red eyes with an unspoken need for something he couldn’t name - for something he didn't even know. Within seconds, the being descended upon Beau ravenously, interspersing harsh bites and deep marks with deliberate kisses and teasing licks. Feather-light fingers plucked purposefully at delicate rosy peaks on his chest like harp strings, as more possessive fingers caressed his hips, his waist, and soon dipped lower over the swell of his body, pushing more firmly inside, to a deeper place the man was all too familiar with, given their numerous amorous encounters. Lost within the maelstrom of pleasure, Beau jolted sharply with a single touch, arching his back at the series of sharp twin stings along his inner thighs before an ever-rising rush of ecstasy melded with the pain, elevating his carnal desires to an even higher peak. The sensations were all too much and yet still not enough.

-

Smile - This one showed up 66 times! End/Ended - This one showed up 100+ times!

Fortunately, both showed up in the same scene, and that scene happens to be the only major context the Discord folks need in order to understand the premise of my paint drying fic. So here we are - the awkward, tense, yet hilarious conversation between Mike and Carlisle about a certain blonde girl and the meaning of friendship XD

[From Midnight Freefall - Apricity, Ch 14]

Satin - or perhaps, a slight shimmer. The sapphire tint shifted subtly, introducing a new dimension to the previously matte sensation. Either way, something had changed and something else would happen. The next change was one Mike could note with his bare eyes - the eerie stillness of the past few minutes finally broke. The doctor hadn't moved, but the threatening, baleful edge that mirrored his own sapphire's phantom cold had taken a different charge. Still so sharp, anticipatory, and inhuman... yet somehow neutral and vaguely familiar. ... “You are exactly as they described you.” ... Those words… they were familiar alright. “Edward, I take it?” Mike paused for a beat then continued. “And Elle too, I suppose.” The doctor quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small smile to form across his lips. “Edward has a lot to say about you and Eleanor seems to enjoy your company.” Mike was going to have a word with that suspicious guy before the night ended. “However, it was Rosalie that spoke to me at length about you.” “…Rose did?” “Yes, she did. Why are you surprised by that?” the doctor asked, looking him over again. Being on the receiving end of such scrutiny… though Mike didn’t feel on edge as he had earlier, that sangria gaze and deep voice still unsettled him, keeping him far off balance. He took a deep breath to regain his composure before responding. “Rose and I don’t interact too often outside of school-related matters.” “Interesting. She regularly corresponds with you. Do you not consider her a friend?” “A friend…” ‘Friend’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. He and Rose worked well together in the few classes they shared. Group projects often had them meeting outside of school hours… and a few personal things probably got mentioned every now and then… and they did text each other random stuff… and there was her warning from that morning… Huh… maybe they were friends of a sort after all? “You’ve come to a realization.” This man wasn’t even trying to hide his true nature, was he? Of course not - there was no reason for him to do so. Not when Mike was the only one around to see or hear him. Hell, the vampire even sounded a bit amused by Mike’s confusion. “I didn’t think of it that way before, but I suppose we are. Friends, that is.” “I would agree, based on what Rosalie has told me.” Figures Mike would be subtly lectured about friendship by some ancient vampire he was meeting for the first time. Someone was clearly playing mad libs with his life.

[verfound]

I might be late to the party but If you're still taking WIP game questions I'd like to know about a couple! Winters: -I want One -Keep Your Mate Warm -Scratchpad - The Stairs House Band: -Papa's Ink -Harold the Glitter Cow -Maman's First Maman's Day

I was gonna add a couple other from the dingo files and the main folder but I didn't wanna be too greedy 🤣.

Ha ha, definitely not too late! Let's see what I got here...

So I am gonna start by saying any file/folder labeled "Scratchpad" is exactly that: scratchpads. I don't like to completely delete stuff, because I might find whatever was happening doesn't work there but might work somewhere else? Or there's a line/idea I liked but wasn't working out right at the time. So I have little Scratchpads with old drafts/nixed ideas. I was struggling with Luka's reaction in Some Scars Run Deep, so that's the majority of that scratchpad - a few versions of the latter half of that fic where things weren't coming together right.

"I Want One" is set around that last chapter of Winter's Fury and focuses on Juleka and Rose. Specifically, Rose meeting Clara and immediately going home and telling Juleka "I want one. Now." After WF wrapped up I had like three or four fluffy ideas that all got jotted down as "Owed Fluff", but then Princess Heartmaker took over and nothing beyond notes has come of them yet. 😂

Same thing with "The Stairs". In the last scene of WF, remember how Tom mentions what Luka thought was a closet was stairs/a second floor? And Luka was asking Marinette about it, but she was like "later I'm sleepy"? I wanted to go into a bit about how that was Marinette's next project once he finally started sleeping again: she is trying to move forward and look ahead to their future, and they both have said they still wanted more snakelets (even with everything that happened with Clara/Lila), but her cottage was only ever meant for a single person. So she made a second floor so they'd have room for their family to grow. It was becoming too much to include in WF, though, so I had it set aside as something to play with later.

"Keep Your Mate Warm" is actually "Keep Your Mate Warm (and Your Friend's Mate Warmer)". Quick found this prompt:

“Because, your house is freezing. What’s with the weird possessive thing around the thermostat? Let her be warm, for fuck’s sake. And, before you get weird. Yes, we were naked in bed. No, we weren’t doing anything sexual. We were watching cat videos. She wouldn’t cheat on you. I offered, but she said no.”

“Leave - before I kick you out of my house.”

“Gladly, it’s warmer out there.”

And made the comment how it would be a great Dingo prompt - specifically Winters Dingo, if I hadn't...y'know. So it starts with Marinette out by the river around the turn of season, when it's still cold enough to be an issue, and Perry runs into her, startles her, and she falls into the water. Hits her head or something so doesn't immediately come out, and she's freezing when he fishes her out - so he takes her back to his home, because it's closer, and sets about warming her up (getting her wet clothes off, shoving her under a million blankets, cuddling up in wolf form bc body heat). When she wakes up it's awkward but she gets it, only when they get her home and tell a half-awake Luka what happened he starts to overreact - until Perry gives him shit for that time Brielle went to check on him in the winter and found him asleep and half-dead outside his cave and did the same thing. Which was all done to get us some Winters Bri, really. 😂

Aaand for the HB fics...

...a common theme you will notice with a lot of HB prompts is "Quick sent me X and..." 😂 There's a reason we call them Dammit Quicks. 😂

"Harold the Glitter Cow" is from a video she found where this girl is grooming a cow, and the final step is adding a coat of glitter? Which got this idea in my head of this one older cow named Harold (it's not even a bull - it's a cow, and for some reason the kids named her Harold) that Mellie wants to make pretty, so she gets her with a glitter bomb. Which makes Luka go, "Ok, Mel, we're teaching you how to do this right." So it's all about Mellie learning how to properly groom a cow, and yes, there are ways to coat them in glitter, but don't use your maman's stash what were you thinking.

"Papa's Ink" is Bloody's fault. 😂 She found this BNHA picture of Aizawa grading papers while Eiri colored in tattoos on his arm, and it Sparked Things. Luka, before his sleeve was complete, working on something when he feels something tickling his arm. Looks down and Mellie's there, coloring in his sleeve with her markers. It's keeping her calm/occupied and is cute as hell, so he doesn't say anything. And it keeps working, so maybe he gets a few outline tattoos specifically for that purpose? He takes pictures of the colored ones before he washes them off to save (maybe hangs 'em on the fridge like a Dad or saves 'em to use as Embarrassing Baby Photos when the kids start dating).

"Maman's First Maman's Day" is another DQ. She found this vid of a daddy taking his toddler to Target to pick out Mother's Day gifts, and one of the things the girl grabbed was a sexy nighty bc "it was pretty". So it's set when Harm's still little, like the Mother's Day before Mellie comes along, and Luka takes her out to get Marinette something for Mother's Day. And it's mostly safe, until Harm finds a black underwear set or something that she thinks is pretty/likes the feel of, and Luka's like "No no no Maman won't like that" - so Harm grabs for a pink one, because of course Maman will love that one. 😂 It's mostly just daddy/daughter fluff, but Luka totally sneaks the underwear in as his gift.

(If you want more feel free - going through these helps me remember which ones I need to get cleared out. 😂 Some of them can be short/quick and just get buried under Other Projects, so yeah totally help me get a checklist going! 😂)

[fandomchaosposts]

for the ask thingyy: J and M 💗💗

*sees J & M* *brain immediately jumps to Jim Moriarty*

hello hi how are you thank you for the ask!!!

J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?

soulmate au soulmate au soulmate au (and fake dating too) and yes I've written both of them 😌😌 (Carlando and Schulott respectively)

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with? Did it turn into a story?

I have found a Jesus/bot fanfic deep into my wips folder that is nothing more than a title; it doesn't fit the question but I have to mention it. the weirdest au I think is the one where Newt and Thomas (from the maze runner) are F1 drivers that read fanfiction about them that ends up being tentacle porn and then one of them dies; sadly I never got past the first chapter 🥲

[berena-cpr]

Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

[rhabakoli]

Reunion

this has been in my WIP folder for like, 84 years... 

Also, that stupid chicken wing song was stuck in my head during half of the writing process. I wanted to die. 

This is the reunion kinda scene from the very beginning of chapter 24 of Beutiful and Damned by @dreamwritesimagines​  It’s smut, so like, stay safe and sane y’all. 

Enjoy.

The moment the door opened was the very same moment Geralt found himself a princess. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around is neck, her lips found his; she barrelled into him, her trust in his abilities to catch her absolute. 

He huffed in surprise and pushed the door closed to press her up against it. “I missed you so much.” Her voice was low, almost demure, but her hands definitely weren’t. She clawed at his shoulders, brushed them over his chest, tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him in. Geralt would be lying if he said her sudden boldness and forwardness wasn’t welcome, but it was certainly surprising and slightly confusing. “Princess, are you alright?” 

“Not until I’ve had one or two orgasms, Geralt.” She looked at him, face as innocent as possible. “Will you deny me?” She was actively trying to kill him then, alright. He groaned, his lips finding hers once again. “As if I ever could, princess.” He pressed closer, his torso flush against her, his hands smoothing down her sides, then gripping her ass. She was wrapped in a thin camisole, and nothing more, and it absolutely killed him. She was so precious, so sweet, so adorably sexy – He groaned, shoved the fabric out of his way to get his hands on her skin. “Fuck, princess.” She sighed against his lips, smile on her pretty face. “I really, really missed you, Geralt.” He bumped his nose against hers, his voice rough: “I missed you too, princess.” She arched her back, squeezed her thighs around his middle and giggled. “Are you going to take care of me now?” How she looked so innocent saying such meaningful things while she was most definitely able to bring him to the brink of an orgasm with just a couple moans and sighs… Unbelievable. “If you let me.” And in the breathiest, most seductive voice, she answered: “Please.” Geralt felt his restrain crumble. As usual, around her. He cupped the back of her head and his eyes almost rolled back into his head as her scent reached his nose. Something animalistic awoke inside his chest, and he had to fulfil her wish, lest he’d die right there on the spot. She could feel his chest expand as he took a breath, and then she could almost pinpoint the moment his control slipped. The effect was instant. His kiss was searing, hot, desperate, almost as desperate as she felt. It made her hips roll, made her thighs quiver with the force she used to press herself against Geralt’s rigid body. Her cunt clenched in anticipation, her mind filled with nothing but his name, “Please” and “More”. He devoured her, bit her lip and pulled, the tiniest, lowest rumble making itself heard. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the noises he made. “Geralt, please, give me something, please.” “As you wish, princess.” He shifted his hold on her, his fingers trailing down her bum, before he found her slit. “Oh, princess.” She moaned at the soft-gravely sound of his voice. He sounded about at wrecked and needy as she felt. “You’re drenched already, fuck.” He gathered some of her wetness on his fingers and brought them to his mouth, licking them, tasting her. She watched him, head thrown back against the door, eyes half closed and mouth hanging open, her breaths coming in pants. Seeing his reaction to her taste, how his nostrils flared, how he licked his lips and rolled his eyes back, the appreciative groan – she whimpered, her hand curling in the fabric of his shirt. His eyes were aflame, the gold piercing through her; there was a carnal hunger inside them. Geralt didn’t hesitate any longer then; he ripped open his belt, unbuttoned his breeches one handed, and was inside her in seconds. The first thrust was almost painful, made her feel like he was pushing all the air out of her lungs – it had been a while and Geralt was a beast – but she loved it. One hand curled around the back of his neck, her nails probably leaving marks for everyone to see, the other fisted in her own hair, as she tried to keep in control of her voice, lest the guards patrolling the halls would hear. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, princess.” Geralt bent forward, curled into himself, rested his forehead against her chest, his hands wrapped around her hips now, holding her still. “Geralt, love, please.” He just nodded before he curled an arm around her to press her close, hooked his fingers into her nightshift to pull it down and lay her bare. Her nipples were stiff, sensitive; just his breath on them made her clench around him. He sighed her name, then latched onto one and simultaneously started to pull out. They were quick to find a rhythm, almost as if they’d never parted. He’d been so stupid. So incredibly thick-headed, to give this up because he was afraid to lose her, to hurt her. In pulling away he’d already managed to do just that, but he could feel their wounds mending now that they found their way to each other and poured their love into every touch, every word, every breath upon the others skin. It didn’t take long for her to come, clenching hard around him, as if she never wanted to let go again. Her back arched, her naked breast rubbed against his clothed chest, the friction giving another layer of pleasure to her orgasm. He held her, slowly fucked her through it, tiny motions, almost non-existent. He kissed her neck, her jaw, bit her earlobe and then started talking. She was sure she would start crying if he continued to assault her like that. His voice was so soft and low, it felt like she was wrapped in velvet and silk at the same time. “You are so beautiful, my princess. You’re beautiful and smart, and incredibly strong. I am so proud of you. You are everything to me. The best thing that ever happened to me. You make me feel loved and at home. Let me stay with you forever. I love you, princess.” Tears sprung to her eyes; her orgasm seemingly never-ending with the continued influx of sensations. She cried his name, shivers wracking her body, her nails cutting his skin where she held onto his arms. He hummed, pressed his face to her neck and took deep breaths. The scent of her arousal, her own fragrance, her soap; it all drove him crazy and at the same time calmed his senses, calmed his heart. It smelled like home, like happiness, like his future. Geralt waited until she relaxed, then he pushed away from the door and walked over to her bed. She whined at the movement but sighed when he went back to covering her neck and shoulders in kisses and bites. When her back touched the crisp sheets, she let go of her man and stretched, her eyes never leaving his. He was so imposing, gigantic. He was safe. He was home. Geralt knelt between her legs, ran his hands up and down her thighs and just admired her. There was a blissed smile on her face, a healthy flush spread down to her breasts, her nipples tight and calling out to him. Her neck was mottled with red spots already, her shoulders starting to look alike. “Geralt.” She watched him from beneath heavy lids and reached for him, wriggled her fingers at him. When he leaned forward until she could cup his cheek, her smile grew wider. “Geralt.” Her thumb brushed along his cheekbone and he thought he was going to melt. And then he thought he’d died and ascended to heaven, because she licked her lips, raised her head just the tiniest bit and whispered: “Fuck me like you mean it, Geralt.” He was so dumbfounded by her words, he didn’t move or react for a couple seconds. Her giggles snapped him out of it, and he smirked. “As you wish, princess. “ He scooted back, kissed her knees and then proceeded to flip her over fast enough to make her get whiplash. She bounced a little bit on the bed, and then his body was pressed along her back, hard lines against soft skin, his lips next to her ear, his dick pressing against her ass in the most teasing, heady way possible. Geralt rubbed himself against her, her soft skin a delight. “Do you know how hard it was to old back all the time?” He gathered her hair in one hand, his other hand buried in the sheets, muscles straining. Carefully, he pulled. “Do you know how often I wanted to simply throw you over my shoulder and take you away? Or bend you over some sideboard in the hallways and fuck you senseless, until you scream my name loud enough to make everyone know you’re mine?” She was panting, her heart racing. He liked her like this, all pliant and putty in his hands. “Do you know how much I missed your juices on my dick? How you feel when you get especially excited? How you start to drip, just from my words?” He let go of her hair and sat up, got comfortable between her legs. He teased her clit, rubbed his entire length through her folds and chuckled at her needy moans. “You like that, don’t you. I missed how you sound when you’re desperate, princess.” He let the head of his cock slip into her, barely enough to breach her, but certainly enough to have her press back. “You look so good like this, princess. I love to see you all pliant and fucked out. I know I’m the only one to get to see you like this, I know you’re mine as much as I am yours.” He caged her in once more, his arms to her sides. She sighed at the feeling of him shielding her like that, and at the way he teased her opening like that. There were three words filling her entire conscience at this point: Safe, Home, Mine. “I will show you how I am the only one to ever make you feel this good, princess. No other man can stretch you like this, ever.” He finally, finally, pressed in; one harsh thrust followed another. He didn’t start slow, no. He fucked her like he meant it, like she’d asked of him. And she LOVED it. Her hands were fisted in the sheets, holding on for dear life. She felt as if her brain leaked out of her ears; she was lost in desire and lust and pleasure. She’d forgotten how it felt to be desired, loved, cherished. “Geralt, fuck, please.” He shifted, his hips not losing rhythm, when he ducked to bring his lips against her ear: “What do you need, princess?” “More.” He grunted, moved his legs, and pulled her up. Her mouth fell open in a silent curse as she suddenly found herself in Geralts lap, her legs spread, held open by his. One hand came up to cup her breast, the other held her hip as he fucked up into her wet heat. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her neck stretched and presented beautifully. Oh, how great she’d look marked up, so everyone would know she’s taken, satisfied; that he was the one to bed her, to taste her all over. Geralt could feel the possessive growl in his chest built, could feel himself losing control. “Geralt.” A soft hand on his cheek snapped him out of it, brought his attention back to her face. “It’s okay. Let go.” “But-“ “You won’t hurt me.” She rolled her hips, clenched around him. “Please.” “Fuck.” He complied, wrapped both his hands around her waist and started fucking into her without restraint. She felt so good, so ready for him, so wet. He really thought he was going crazy. “Princess, oh fuck.” His voice in her ear made her break out in goosebumps, and she was fairly sure they’d be heard outside. Did she care? Not at all. Let them hear. Let them know, how was she supposed to care when he was inside her, loving her like he did? So intense, so honest, so real.   “Geralt, please.” He laughed, barely registered how unhinged it sounded with all the pleasure and want clouding his mind. All he wanted was to make her feel good, make her scream his name, fill her mind and body and never let go. The fast slapping of skin on skin mixed with the panting breath of them both, with the moans and cries of pleasure, the curses, the pleads. It was a cacophony of love and desire, of lust. It was lewd. Her wetness was gathering between them. She was glistening with it and he wanted to eat her up. She whined, his name on her lips like a prayer. “Please.” Her fingers were clawing up his arm, looking for purchase when he reacted with a snarl and a smack to her thigh. “Cum for me, princess, I know you want to.” He helped her along by finding her clit, playing with it, rubbing and occasionally pinching. She bucked in his arms, her voice that of a songbird. It was intoxicating and he never wanted it to end. But it had to. He wanted her to hit her high, to come around him, for him. “Princess”, he groaned into her ear. Shivers ran down her back, lightning and ice and molten gold. When she clenched, a curse escaped him; he wasn’t far behind at all. Just a couple more thrusts as he held her up, and he unloaded inside her, her moans filling his ears as he filled her with his seed. He stilled, curled is arms around her form; he’d never let her go. His princess caressed his arm, let her fingers roam up and down and play with his arm hair. “Hmmm, that was very nice.” She grinned at his nonverbal grunt, snuggled into his warmth. He was still inside her, and they were making a mess on her bed, but neither cared. She was basking in their comfortable bubble, until Geralt shifted and kissed behind her ear, just to say: “I’ll make you come on my tongue later, princess.”

[pixiedane]

Fic Writer Review

Thank you for the tag, @ussjellyfish ! I don't know whom to tag so I will just say to all of you: TAG, you're it (scroll to the end to copy paste the questions).

how many works do you have on AO3?

187

what’s your total AO3 word count?

373,260

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

The count is 74, but they're not wholly individual (lots of "all media types" for example). I have pseuds for Star Wars (68 works), Star Trek (63 works), and Marvel (18 works). There are 38 works in other fandoms including Leverage, Killjoys, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, House MD, Game of Thrones, Once Upon a Time, Law and Order, Peter Pan, Willow...

16 more questions beneath the cut.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

512 kudos, Let's Go Steal a Family (Leverage), 2044 words | The Leverage team decide they don't need to settle down in order to start a family.

This was written for the "Leverage-a-thing-a-thon" run in August 2015 (making this fic almost exactly six years old). It's about found family in the most literal sense.

415 kudos, catch a glimpse of sunlight (Star Wars), 2324 words + a fanvid | What if Anakin listened to Padmé more than Palpatine and Obi-Wan listened to Anakin more than Yoda? tldr; galaxy saved

Created for the 2016 Star Wars Rarepairs exchange, a canon divergent au where Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padmé work together to take down the Chancellor and raise the twins as a triad.

253 kudos, and a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone. (Star Wars), 726 words | Luke wants to know about his mother.

Written for PadMay 2018, for the prompt "How should Padmé be remembered?". Wow, I'm surprised this is in the top five given it's a tiny ficlet in a giant fandom written for a challenge I made up myself. But I'm pleased! Padmé deserves to be remembered, that's why I started PadMay.

247 kudos, Serendipity (Star Wars), 1914 words | That time Padmé accidentally walked in on the wrong naked Jedi.

Another ObiAniDala AU written for the Star Wars Rarepairs Exchange, 2018 in this case. Two years earlier I'd made a random photo manip of Natalie Portman and Ewan Mcgregor drinking tea and it eventually inspired the fic.

221 kudos, Your Beating Heart Tonight (Star Wars), 3121 words | Padmé develops feelings for her other Jedi protector.

And another written for the Star Wars Rarepairs Exchange in 2016! And also another AU based in a storm of emotions between Anakin, Padmé, and Obi-Wan. I have a specialty.

All five of these are about family first and foremost. Three and a half feature polyamory. Three and a half are canon divergent AUs. None breaks 3200 words. All were written for an event/exchange.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

For the most part. Sometimes I don't right away and it becomes awkward. And I generally don't respond to negative comments because who needs that.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Abduction, a mirror universe story vaguely inspired by The Handmaid's Tale. My author's note: "It is not a happy story for anyone and implies the extreme emotional abuse of a child, as well as the coercion and torture of adults."

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I love crossovers! I've completed a few and have fifty more in wip folders. The most ambitious is War of Stars, a Star Wars/Game of Thrones fusion with 26,480 words, thirty chapters, and five different povs (Cersei, Anakin, Daenerys, Ahsoka, and Boba). Niche, but I am very proud of how it worked out.

I've also blended Star Wars with Mad Max, Kelvin Star Trek, Star Trek Discovery, Deep Space Nine, Sleeping Beauty, and Black Widow.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've had a few mean comments but they're basically "I don't like this pairing and I want you to feel bad about writing it" and I won't.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

No. Just not my thing.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I've had a few translated into Russian, which just adds to the headcanon that I'm secretly Black Widow.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, back in the LiveJournal days I wrote many thousands of words with @vasnormandy. I am slowly posting those stories to AO3 under my Marvel pseud Amelia Danvers, my OC and main character.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

An impossible question because I multi-ship like my life depends on it. Anakin/Padmé is my most prolific ship followed by Rey/Ben, Kat/Lorca, and Carol Danvers/Peter Parker (the parents of Amelia above). But I've written alternate ships for all of the above.

You can read more about my shipping interests here.

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

Oof. I have a lot of WIPs that I would like to finish but it's hard to get back to.

what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. Introspection. I'm good at writing a specific point of view. Characters addressing their issues. I like to pull at threads so I've built up those skills. I love mixing and mashing fandoms and pairings. Complex relationships and the discussion thereof.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Action, like sex scenes or fight scenes, and anything plot heavy. I'm more interested in character and it shows in my writing.

I am also terrible at follow through and finishing things. It's why so much of my fic is written for challenges with external deadlines.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm not fluent in any other languages and I wouldn't want to do it without extensive research.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Either Star Trek (TNG, mainly the adventures of Beverly Crusher - as a preteen, at the Academy, as a single mom, and because I'm me I also gave her a Romulan lover) or Star Wars (the adventures of Han and Leia's daughter who was ME but also Jaina Solo before Jaina Solo existed because she was a twin who wanted to be a pilot more than a Jedi). These stories were written on notebook paper in colored pen and I'd do dramatic readings in the backyard, in costume, with only the trees (all of whom I'd named, mostly after heroines in books, like Elizabeth, Jane, Anne, Alice, Mary, etc.) as the audience.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Well, the one I imagine as something more is Pas De Deux, my Jedi Dance Academy AU. I can picture the senes in my mind and I really enjoyed the adaptation process, melding two things I love into one. The characters and events are recognizable, but also very different and that's something I enjoy.

Questions for anyone who wants to complete it:

Fic Writer Review

how many works do you have on AO3?

what’s your total AO3 word count?

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

have you ever received hate on a fic?

do you write smut? if so what kind?

have you ever had a fic stolen?

have you ever had a fic translated?

have you ever co-written a fic before?

what’s your all time favorite ship?

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

what are your writing strengths?

what are your writing weaknesses?

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

[creamypudding]

Woeful WIP Wednesday

Hi! This is the start of my Woeful WIP Wednesday series of posts which will happen on Wednesdays, duh. And before anyone gets up at me about it not being Wednesday yet... just remember time zones exist in this world, and yeah, it is actually Wednesday.

Other things about the name... Most of these WIPs I'm happy with so it's not the actual stories that are woeful. It's the fact that they are still WIPs and not finished that is woeful to me, hence the name, yeah? Ok 😄

So with that out of the way...

I've gone through all my folders and found the various bits and pieces of writing I've begun and let slide or abandoned. My hope is that by letting them be free on Tumblr I might either A) remember that these stories exist, B) perhaps get a renewed appreciation and motivation to poke them, C) give myself permission to never look at them again.

Some of these WIPs I 100% mean to finish one day. Some I know I won't. Some I have actually finished but haven't polished completely or something's getting in the way of me doing a final pass so I don't consider them worthy of going onto my Ao3 account just yet but hopefully will one day.

The WIPs I'm gonna upload are also of various lengths. I have some completed chapters that are thousands of words long, I have some that are mere hundreds of words long and are slips of ideas I started to formulate.

I have 10 AkuRoku WIPs and 6 Zakkura ones. Each week I'll post one WIP and the pattern will be 2 AkuRoku WIPs followed by 1 Zakkura to mix things up a bit. I'll blab a bit about the WIP and post the full WIP under the cut.

If there is anything in particular people would like to know about the stories or the creative process in future posts please let me know and I’ll incorporate more information if people are interested in that sort of thing. If you give me direction I can follow through.

I hope you will enjoy these WIPs and I trust you'll judge them way less harshly than what I judge my own writing.

So anyway, kicking things off I have a very short and sweet AkuRoku WIP. 

I started this in May 2019 and it's technically 'done' but I haven't posted it because it's not done to my specific level of 'done-ness'. All it needs is a little polish. A little editing here and there. Fixing the grammatical and spelling errors, and fleshing it out in a few spots perhaps.

It's the 'fleshing out' bit that hasn't happened and that's truly stopping me from considering this a finished product.

This story is called ‘10 ways to fall in love’ but I never came up with 10 scenarios which I suspect is why this story will never be finished. I could change the name of it and if I ever post it I will change the name of it. In fact, most of the WIPs I post would have different names if they ever do go up on Ao3.

But going back to this specific WIP— it is a canon story spanning Days, KH2, KH3, and after, which is maybe the biggest culprit in regards to why I never finished this story. I don’t do well with canon-based story telling. It’s too much pressure to get everything canon-compliant. Do people ask for things to be right? Probably not so much, but my brain is very hyperfocused on getting things right, which is a huge road block to my creativity and the reason why I prefer AUs.

I don't have much else to say about this story but if you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know.

If others are passionate about these stories it might make me passionate about them again. But who knows.

Rated G

Word count - 951

10 ways to fall in love

What do you call it?

This feeling I have?

Love?

No. Too strong, or not strong enough

A name

A special name

Your name

It was always your name

That made me feel like I had a heart

They didn’t have a name for it. They didn’t even know if what they felt was real because how could a Nobody feel anything. For Axel it was just a ghost of a memory of his old life. For Roxas it was an endless source of confusion because these strange sensations fluttered in his body all the time when he was around Axel. It was incredibly dull at first but grew exponentially bigger with the passing days.

He couldn’t reconcile that even the most tedious missions were made fun when they were around each other - though he shouldn’t be able to have fun without a heart. What were any of the experiences that ever happened between them, without a heart? They felt nothing. They were Nobodies. They couldn't be anything other than empty husks.

That had always been the greatest lie which had been told to them, which they chose to believe, until it became impossible, though the denial sat rife in the way they denied their joy, sadness, and anger. But the strongest denial flowed from the warmth and nameless affections that fluttered in the chest and stomach when they were together. Such a thing was most unbelievable of all and merely a figment of the imagination - a vestige of when they were Somebodies, a quiet echo in a vast nothingness of their actual existence. Even for Roxas, with his half-formed ideas of his Somebodies life.

But none of these things mattered because Roxas disappeared and Axel died.

"He made me feel like I had a heart." A quiet whisper of a thought, made real and said aloud finally crumbled the paper-thin veneer which Axel had clung too, all too late to do anything about.

And he is reborn, and now knows better. Lea knows better. He understands his returned heart which aches and bleeds broken and shattered even as it is physically whole inside himself, pumping blood. His soul has gone, reappearing for fleeting moments when he sees Sora get a certain look in his eyes, or uses a turn of phrase. A spark exists and it jolts Lea every time closer to awareness - closer to a name.

And then he is in that most miserable of places, fighting a war that might never be won, but he must try because the promise of what lies ahead if he does win is worth every risk. He fights for his friends, present and gone, and then out of almost nowhere Lea's heart is returned and whole and stronger than ever before, and his memories are back, and he holds the two people most dear to him. He cannot lose them again and does everything in his power to protect them both, and it is a safe feeling because it stops him from thinking too hard or feeling too strongly the flutters and warmth, and the soothing in his heart.

But he feels it all again, and let's himself be overcome by it as the never-setting sun of Twilight Town is observed with his most favorite people in the whole wide world sitting next to him.

He scooches a little closer, seeking the warmth and reassurance of Roxas next to him. The tinkling laugh builds his own and drips deep down into his body and soul to become the best sound he's always known to miss.

Happiness engulfs him. But it is not the word he looks for when he sees Roxas walking, talking, laughing, grumbling, and eating ice cream. It is so much bigger and all-encompassing than this miniscule word for a feeling..

"I never stopped wanting you back. I never stopped fighting to get you back," he confesses in the evening on Destiny Island, during a rare moment alone on this summer vacation full of reunions and happy tidings.

"I know. I saw, I heard."

"You did?"

Roxas nods and swings his legs as they dangle off the pier the both of them at sitting on.

It warms Lea’s heart to know Roxas was never far away. “I think I felt you – there in Sora. When he got angry and frustrated.”

Roxas laughs. “I was always angry and frustrated in Sora. Everything felt so warm and fluffy inside of there.”

“Realy? Why would that make you angry?”

“Because it’s like eating nothing but honey – you get sick of it,” Roxas shakes his head, “But it’s worse because someone else is force-feeding it to you.”

"It's ok. Just seeing you – knowing you were there wanting to get me back was enough." Roxas leans, Lea receives and the feels which are always right there, in the middle of his chest ignite and burn so bright.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to help you."

Lea hugs him tight, almost too tight. Roxas writhes against his arms and just as Lea makes to let go Roxas gets his own arms around Lea and squeezed him, robbing him of his breath for a few seconds, but Lea feels he could happily die in Roxas' arms and savors the crush.

They both end up laughing against each other, inhaling deep breaths, rubbing their cheeks against each other and leaning their foreheads together.

Everything they ever felt for each other is still there, but stronger, because they have hearts and acceptance of their reality.

"Axel," Roxas' breath tickles Lea's lips. He doesn't care to correct Roxas. Roxas could call him a heartless and he wouldn't care because Roxas is back and with him.

"I don't want you to ever disappear again," Lea murmurs.

"I don't want you to ever suffer again," Roxas apologizes. 

Lea cups Roxas' cheek, which is so soft and warm. "I never will as long as you're with me."

[wheezykat]

You’re smiling but I don’t believe you!! SPILL 😍

YES. HELLO FRIEND. ❤❤

Let me wax poetic about this one for a min, because I’m very very excited about it! And that’s pretty new for me - I’m usually really unsure about the things I’m writing and worrying about how a piece will be received. This one is different for me - I feel like I’ve poured out a part of myself in the story. It’s entirely self-indulgent, and something that really took me by surprise with the force in which I needed to write it. 

This started as a lil 400 word drabble in response to a drarrymicrofic prompt for the word “metamorphosis.” And then a down and out chainsmoking!Draco took over my brain, and I literally couldn’t help myself. I’m just shy of 8k right now, and still going strong - I’ve got a few more scenes left to write before it will be complete. 😈

you’re smilin’ but i don’t believe you (before&after) is largely a story focused on Draco’s character arc after the war and him dealing with the aftermath- the guilt, the regret, and all of the hardships he has to endure just to get by after losing everything. It’s entirely Draco POV, and hops through several years, centered around encounters he has with Harry and the cause/effect of those encounters on his life; how he shapes himself, rebuilds, and grows. I absolutely adore the Draco I’ve written for this, and I really hope everyone who reads it will too. I tried not to shy away from the reality that he’d be faced with, and the reality that life can be hard. But that we can keep pushing, working for a better future for ourselves, even in the face of those hardships when everything feels hopeless. And I guess ultimately, how we deserve the ending we’ve worked so desperately for. Accepting that we deserve it, regardless of our past, because we’ve changed for the better. As you can guess, it’s quite heavy on the angst in the beginning, but it does gradually (v gradually) recede, leaving room for a happy ending. 

OK, now that I’ve had my existential crisis about it, here’s a snippet for you below the cut. 😅 

ask me something about my WIP folders!

(tw: angst, reluctant sex work [implied, not pictured], general misery and depression)

It was getting to be the end of the month, and by his quick calculations, he’d be about a hundred pounds short for his rent this month. Losing his job as a dishwasher meant he lost more than just his pittance of an income, but also his access to cheap, and sometimes free, food. He’d managed to snag a position as a barista in a shabby, rundown coffee shop just down the street only a week later - but his additional food expenses, and the loss of just a single paycheck, put more of a dent in his earnings than he’d previously thought. Not even trying to subsist on purely caffeine and leftover scones had made up the difference, it would seem.

A sense of vague despair shivered up his spine as he looked at himself in the only mirror in his flat, fingers pressing against sharp hip bones and slightly protruding clavicles, as he tried to think of a better work around than the one currently on the forefront of his mind. Working at the greasy spoon had been hard, often back breaking work, fingers pruned and skin sticky with residue by the end of his shifts. But it had been awhile since he’d had to resort to - that. The months had soothed his shattered soul like a balm, happy to be able to exist in his dull routine and the safe return to his bed and slightly ratty blankets every evening. Feet aching, sometimes with an empty stomach, but with the relief of knowing that he’d get a reliable paycheck at the end of the week. 

He watched his lips turn downward in a frown, a mockery of the pouts he often saw painting the faces of those models on the front of those awful muggle magazines. His cheekbones were too sharp, eyes bloodshot from his early morning shift. He was shadowed and thin and hungry. And he didn’t have any better ideas. 

With a heavy sigh and shaking hands, he grabbed his kohl eyeliner from the counter, rimming his eyes to conceal the dark circles. He quickly downed a series of preparatory potions, among them a Draught of Peace to ease his nerves. He’d learned the hard way to keep those on hand at all times, even if he thought he’d closed this chapter of his life for good. Thank Merlin for owl deliveries and fake names - at least Knockturn shops hadn’t altered their proclivities too much after the war. 

Feeling a familiar sense of calm wash over him, he turned from the mirror without another look to dig around the bottom of his drawers before finding a pair of leather breeches and the silky shirt he preferred for nights such as this. He dressed in absolute silence, only the sound of his soft breaths and the rustle of fabric filling the room.

Finally dressed, Draco briefly rubbed his palms against his sides, taking deep breaths to try and quell his growing resentment at his situation. His life, in general, if he were being honest. Puffing one last breath out, fringe ruffling against his face, he grabbed his packet of cigarettes and walked out the door of his flat, locking it wordlessly behind him.

It was late into the day, but not quite late enough for the activities he would need to solicit to earn enough to meet his rent, the twilight just beginning to fade from the sky as the dark overtook and the shadows of the shabby buildings he passed by lengthened. His booted feet drug as he made his way along a familiar path, sparing a longing glance at the former greasy spoon as he passed by, heart panging with the loss of its reliability. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, flicking a flame to the tip as he took a deep inhale and let it steep in his lungs. 

Draco continued to trail his way down the emptying streets, the hollow shine of streetlamps flickering on reflecting their light off the Thames back at the rising moon. He was in no particular hurry, legs and limbs lethargic in their dread for the coming night. He’d likely be out late, but would have to make it to his early five a.m. shift at the coffee shop regardless of his lack of sleep if he had any hope of avoiding this particular fate again next month. He did, assuredly, want to avoid it. 

His hopes dwindled every time he found himself back at this place.

He paused on his path, crossing the street to lean over the stone ramparts, dragging in another ragged breath of smoke. A pale, shaky hand rested beneath his sharp jaw, the other vaguely tracing runes against the cement as he chased his melancholic thoughts, smoke billowing up to the winking stars. He wondered, briefly, if this was it. If this is what life had in store for him, for the inevitable future. Giving himself away for a price, for a meal, for a roof over his head and a shaky sense of security that could be toppled at any moment. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could take it much longer. He rubbed his hands roughly against face, palms digging in against his eyes. He wasn’t sure anymore.

His cigarette burnt down to the filter, smoke turning acrid without the tantalizing smell of tobacco to coat it, embers turning hot between his fingers. He opened his eyes, slightly dazed and weighed down underneath the potions he’d taken earlier and the dark thread of his thoughts. Watched red move ever closer to his skin. Heaving a sigh, he flicked it out across the river, before reaching into his front pocket to light up another. 

[in-arlathan]

Fic Writer Question (#3)

I was tagged by @kunstpause again. Thank you for thinking of me. Doing this tag was a joy!

Today’s topic: Stories you want to write but for some reason haven’t (yet)

I will focus on fanfiction because I have way too many ideas for original works that never went anywhere or have been set aside to age like a good wine. But that’s okay. When I looked into my old fanfic folder, I found some gems from back in the day that made me cackle like the fandom grandma that I am.

But why do I put stories on the shelf? When I started writing, the main reason for abandoning a project was that I simply lost momentum or hadn’t thought the story through to the end and therefore ran into some kind of roadblock. If that happened, my burning hatred for revisions kicked in. I loathed editing with all my heart. Sometimes I made the effort to edit stories I really liked but that often lead to me finding even more stuff I wanted to change so it all spiralled out of control and I got discouraged.

This changed when I picked up copywriting as my profession. Through my daily job, I learned tp persevere and to stick with difficult projects when the rubber hits the road. It also taught me that not every idea is suited to be turned in fiction. From then on, I chose the stories I wanted to work on a lot more carefully and stored the plot bunnies in a swipe file until they either blossomed into a full-fledged concept or withered away.

The result is a much slimmer WIP folder. I collect a lot of notes and see if I can evolve them or include them in running projects, but I don’t hesitate to toss stuff into the garbage.

And now on to some of the stories that never went anywhere (yet). I had a pretty wild selection of fandoms in the last 15 years, so I picked a few fics that stuck with me for one reason or another. Added gifs for that certain je ne sais quoi.

The fun begins behind the cut.

Dragon Age

Since DA is the only fandom I actively write for a the moment, the list of projects is rather short. But these two are definitely on-hold for the near future.

Demon’s Dance – I shared a bit about this one during the WIP Title Game. It’s a one-shot idea set during Inquisition with some hot takes on the magic system in the Dragon Age games. I shelved it for now because that would require a deep dive into a system that is so very inconsistent that it slowed me down. I do want to get to it one day, but I have other stuff I want to focus on right now.

Running With The Halla – Another fic set during Inquisition, but this one is supposed to be a multi-chapter. If I break it down to its very core, then this is a fix-it fic for my Lavellan after the loss of her clan. I did write a few scenes for this but I’m not sure if this fic isn’t best kept in the realm of head-canons.

Moving on to the older stuff...

Star Wars Legends

Hahaha, yes, I’m ancient. I wrote Star Wars fan fiction when there still was an Expanded Universe (aka “Legends”). One of my bigger projects back then was an old LJ claim for which I had to write 100 one-shots for a pairing of my chosing, in that case Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade. I got around to writing 25 of them before abandoning this undertaking because me one-shots get way too long and therefore take a lot of time to write. I always told myself that I would get back to it because I had way too much fun, but when the EU was all but wiped out, it totally killed my momentum.

I also had a long fic titled “No Good Deed” that was AU take on the gap between the OT and the prequels. The main twist being that Qui-Gon Jinn had survived. That thing was dark and angsty to no end because, of course, it was. I orginally planned this to be a three-part series but only managed to write about 2/3 of the first part. I don’t know why I put it aside though. It must have coincided with my move to Hamburg and my change in profession. I work a ton in that year and stepped away from writing fiction for quite some time afterwards. But I still think of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in that fic very fondly.

If you want to see me embarrass myself: I’ve made a cover for ff.net back in the day for that fic. I might share it if someone asks. My Photoshop skills were subpar but I was enthusiastic! :D

Speaking of embarrasing WIP that never went anywhere...

Honorable Mentions

There was a CSI: Miami long fic that I used to write with my best friend back in the day titled “We Never Close”. The year 2006 was wild for us, let me tell you. I’m still not quite sure what we were thinking. But we outgrew that fandom and that fic very quickly...

There also must be a ton of Harry Potter fics lurking around somewhere that never went anywhere. One was my first attempt at writing in English and I remember that it was the hardest thing ever. Must have shelved that one back in 2008.

I think that’s all I got for you today. :)

Time to tag a few people, haha. As always, feel free to skip this one or join in. This is supposed to be fun after all: @johaeryslavellan, @kittimau, @charlatron, @serial-chillr, @faerieavalon, @cornfedcryptid, @deathvalleyqueen, @midnightprelude, @tessa1972, @elfrootaddict, @noire-pandora, @wardenari, @irlaimsaaralath, @solas-disapproves

Thanks for reading this far. Much love to all of you <3

[hollyethecurious]

CS Divergence: Going Away Means Forgetting (1/?)

Summary: A Canon Divergence of S3 New York City Serenade. 

A/N: Hey look! It’s another wip that’s been in my drafts folder for waaaaaay too long, finally seeing the light of day! This will be a multi-parter, somewhere between 3 and 5 ‘chapters’. Not sure how often it’ll update, but I’ll do my best to not keep y’all waiting too long between parts. *cough* Comments help feed the muse *cough*.

Thanks to @kmomof4​ for giving this a once over for me. Also, be on the lookout for some possible art from her to accompany this. She teased that she was making some for my b-day ;o) Edited to say... WHAT THE HELL TUMBLR! Apparently Krystal posted this wonderful bday post this morning, with the art, and Tumblr neglected to inform me! K, I love it! Thank you SO much. I’m so sorry Tumblr is such a Richard.

Rated: T+ for language / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee

~/~

A deep, shaky breath filled his lungs. They’d done it. They’d made it back. Back to New York. Back to her. Back to Henry. Back to the Land Without Magic while avoiding the newest curse. Now all they had to do was get the Saviour to do her thing. They just had to get her to remember first.

He could make her remember. He knew he could.

Reaching up, he gave three hard knocks to the door then waited with bated breath. The soft pad of footfalls resonated as she got closer to the door. When it swung open, revealing her after all this time, the air left his lungs.

“Emma.”

Her eyes went wide with recognition, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I-”

“How did you even find me?”

“Well-”

“You know what? No. I don’t care. You’re not welcome here.”

He couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder, wondering if a familiar flop of twelve-year-old brown hair would make an appearance.

“What are you looking for?” she hissed, closing the door to a mere sliver and obstructing his view of her apartment.

“Henry,” he answered without thinking, and her face went ghostly white.

“How did you...? Is that why you’re here? Well, you can forget it. You’re not getting anywhere near my son.”

“Emma, please. I just need you to listen. I know you don’t remember-”

“Oh, I remember perfectly well-”

“No. You don’t. Not really.” He took a beat to consider his next move before whispering, “But I can make you.”

Lunging forward, his lips met hers and for a brief moment he was sure it had worked. Until a sharp pain in his nether region doubled him over.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“I-” he croaked, clutching himself protectively as he attempted to suck air back into his lungs.

“I want you gone, do you understand me? You don’t come back. If I so much as see your shadow, I’m calling the cops.” She threw him one last withering look before raising a brow at him.“I’m sure you have an outstanding warrant or two out there somewhere.”

The door slammed, shaking the hallway where he lay crumpled.

Well, that didn’t go as planned, he forlorned, picking himself up off the floor and hobbling back towards the exit. “Fuck… Hook is going to kill me.”

~/~

“Bloody hell. We agreed to wait!”

Killian was furious. It would be a lie to say when he’d awoken that morning to find Neal gone he hadn’t panicked just a tad. Memories of being alone in the strange city, seeking out the crocodile before being knocked unconscious and abandoned had invaded his mind, and he’d questioned whether Neal had finally gotten his pay back for Neverland. That perhaps he’d gone and found Emma and their son and left for Storybrooke without him. Not that it wouldn’t serve him right. Despite their tenuous alliance, Killian knew he still had much to atone for with Bae… er, Neal.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I… I screwed up big time.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Killian pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to rein in his ire. “She didn’t remember you, I take it.”

“Oh, she remembered me, alright,” Neal gruffed with false amusement. “She remembers me as the dirt bag that stuck her with stolen watches and left her in jail. Pregnant.”

“Tell me you didn’t mention…” Killian began, fixing his stare upon the idiotic man, and willing his answer to be anything other than what he knew it would be.

“It sort of… slipped out.”

“Slipped out? How does you mentioning the son you aren’t supposed to know anything about slip out?”

“Look. I already said I screwed up, okay? Can we maybe try and find a way to salvage this?”

Killian scrubbed a hand down his face, his nostrils flaring as he remembered to breathe. “I suppose we could try going to her together, as we’d agreed to do in the first place.”

Neal winced slightly at the cut in Killian’s tone, reminding him of the agreement they’d made back in the Enchanted Forest and again after arriving back in this realm late in the night. “We can’t,” he replied defeatedly. “Emma said she’d call the cops if she saw me again, and my record isn’t exactly clean… Plus, there’s the whole kiss thing.”

“The what?” Killian’s head snapped up from where it had been propped in his hand, his fingers toying with the scruff under his bottom lip as they tended to do when he was deep in thought.

“I-I,” Neal stuttered. “I kissed Emma.” Killian’s jaw muscle clenched under the fresh strain of his teeth grinding together. “I thought, maybe…”

“That you could wake her with a kiss,” Killian finished.

Both men stood silent, considering the implications over such a revelation that Neal’s kiss had not been enough to break the curse currently afflicting the woman of their mutual desires.

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work,” Neal muttered solemnly. “She said she loved me. After I was shot, before I fell through Tamara’s portal.” Neal began to pace along the deck as Killian looked on. The same questions swirled through his mind and bubbled up from his gut, though if he were being honest, they were most likely tinged with more hope than the dismay Neal’s seemed to be colored with. “When we got back to Storybrooke, Snow told me that Emma had confessed to her that she’s always loved me, and probably always would. So why didn’t the kiss work?”

Killian had his theories, but opted to keep them to himself. “We can’t worry over that now,” he stated, bringing them back to the real issue at hand. “we have to figure out our next course of action. How do we get the Saviour back to Storybrooke.”

“What good will that do if she doesn’t remember who she is?”

“There’s magic in Storybrooke,” Killian reminded. “Surely Regina or the fairies will be able to find a way to restore her memories once we get her back there.”

Neal nodded while mulling over his words, neither of them needed to voice the addition running through both their minds. Rumplestiltskin. The crocodile might also be able to restore Swan’s memories, if he’d been able to get free of the witch before the curse hit. There was still so much neither he nor Neal knew about this new curse. Who had cast it? What was the Wicked Witch’s end game? Had it brought the entirety of the Enchanted Forest back? What other realms might have been affected by it? So many unanswered questions.

Truth be told, Killian was still reeling over the fact Baelfire - Neal - had come to him for help in the first place.

Several weeks ago, the Enchanted Forest…

Hook clenched his fist beneath the table and fought to keep his composure. “Your father is… back? How?”

“Belle and I made our way to his castle. I figured if there was a way to bring him back, the answer would be there.” Bae explained in hushed tones, scanning the tavern patrons for any signs that they were being overheard. “We came upon a man, cursed to take the form of a candlestick, who said the Dark One had transformed him. He gave us the information we needed to resurrect my father, but it was a trap.”

“A trap? Set by whom?”

“The Wicked Witch,” Neal stated bitterly. “Fortunately, Belle figured it out just in time. Turns out it takes an exchange - a life for a life.”

“If a sacrifice is required then how-”

“The witch showed up after the candlestick man confessed. She forced one her minions, a man she referred to as wizard, to resurrect my father. Belle and I tried to stop her from getting a hold of the dagger, but…”

Hook ground his teeth together and leaned in towards Bae, his hook slamming loudly against the wood of the table top separating them. “Am I to understand, that not only did you bring back the bloody Dark One, you allowed him to fall into the hands of this land’s newest villain?”

“Hey!” Bae blustered in offense. “I’m trying to get back to my family. What exactly have you been doing this past year, huh?” He threw up a hand to wave off Hook’s words before continuing, “Nevermind. You’re a pirate. I don’t need the details.”

“A pirate who you’ve sought out for help,” Hook commented with an air of smug unaffectedness, not wishing the man across from him to know how much his words and assumptions stung. “Which begs the question… help with what?”

Bae cast another wary look around before leaning forward, a fragment of parchment making its way across the expanse of the table. “I got this,” Bae whispered. “It’s from my father. He says a new curse is coming. Once it’s cast, travel between worlds will be possible again, which means-”

“Emma,” Hook exhaled reverently before his eyes snapped up to meet Bae’s as the man’s narrowed into a hardened glare. Clearing his throat, Hook schooled his features and lifted his tankard towards his lips, stating, “You’ll be able to get to Emma,” before taking a large swallow of ale.

“Only if I can manage to not get caught up in the curse myself,” Bae replied. “That’s why I need the Jolly Roger. She’s the best chance I have of outrunning this curse.”

“And you expect me to just hand her over to you?” Hook scoffed incredulously.

“To get me back to my family? Yes. Don’t you think you owe me at least that much?”

Hook dropped his gaze from Bae’s. He did owe him that, he supposed. “Aye,” he agreed heavily. “Which is why the only way you’ll be taking the Roger is with me at the helm.” Hook brought his head back up and gave Bae an earnest look. “She and I are your best chance of out running this curse, and you bloody well know it.”

“Awfully sure of yourself,” Bae grumbled.

“Well, I am a hell of a captain.”

After ditching his crew, they managed to escape to an area beyond the curse’s purview. As luck would have it, among those taking refuge in the untouched port, was none other than the giant he and Emma had encountered atop the beanstalk. The one Cora had miniaturized for them to bring back to Storybrooke; a state he’d been able to replicate with the use of a special mushroom after being returned to the Enchanted Forest. It had taken some convincing of their motives, but eventually he and Neal were able to procure a bean from the shrunken giant. Their joint focus on finding Emma as they traveled through the portal had landed them off the coast of New York. Within a few short hours, Neal had determined Swan’s address and they’d agreed to go to her apartment together in the morning. An agreement Neal had gone back on, going after Emma on his own and throwing their whole plan out the window.

Fortunately, a pirate is never without a list of contingencies for when plans go awry.

~/~

“Emma. Your four-thirty is here,” the receptionist announced over the receiver of the office phone.

“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”

Emma stood and stretched out the kinks from her shoulders. She’d gladly take the cramped quarters of her bug during a stakeout over being hunched at her desk doing paperwork for hours on end, but the backlog had gotten out of hand… again. A new case would be a welcomed relief to the carpal tunnel setting into her wrists, and a welcomed distraction to the dread that had been churning in her stomach ever since Neal had shown up at her doorstep four days ago.

A welcomed distraction, indeed, Emma mused after exiting her office and seeing who she could only assume was her four-thirty appointment sitting in the waiting room. Dark hair, leather jacket, slightly broody with an air of intrigue and trouble, the man was everything Emma usually found appealing, but knew she shouldn’t. Good thing she never mixed business with pleasure, that would help diffuse her natural attraction to…

“Mr. Jones?” she inquired with a tone of professionalism, gaining the man’s attention from the magazine he’d been idly thumbing through. Her breath caught at the vivid hue of his blue eyes, and the quick flash of something that left her feeling both restless and at perfect ease before it sank back into the depths of his stare.

“Please,” he said as he stood and made his way to her, offering his hand. “Call me Killian.”

Emma took his proffered hand and noted that they seemed to swallow simultaneously from the contact. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one having to tamp down feelings of attraction in order to stay professional. She wouldn’t deny that thought made her preen just a tiny bit. On the inside, of course. Outside, she was hard as nails Emma Swan, bail bondsperson and fledgling private investigator.

“Right this way, Killian.” After releasing his hand, and attempting to ignore the raised flesh still rippling up her arm, she led them back to her office and invited him to have a seat as she closed the door. “So, what can I help you with today?”

“I need some assistance in tracking down an old business partner of mine,” he began in an accented tone that did absolutely nothing to curb his appeal.

“Name?”

“Greg Mendell.”

“When was the last time you had any contact with him?” Emma asked as she began to make notes.

“About a year ago.”

“A year?” Emma’s head snapped up. That would make things a bit more challenging.

“Aye. We didn’t part in the most… amicable of ways.”

Emma sat her pen down and began to assess the man before her. At first glance, he was the epitome of calm, with the way he sat nonchalantly in his seat. One hand rested in his lap while he toyed with his rings on the other in a casual manner. His expression was cool and collected, charming even, but Emma could sense a tension in the set of his shoulders and in the shadows that flickered past his liner rimmed eyes. Mr. Jones might want to her to believe he was perfectly at ease with the reason he was there today, but Emma knew there was something more going on than met the eye.

“What was the nature of your business together?”

Jones shifted in his seat and took a beat before answering, as if he were weighing his words before speaking them. “Our mutual interests aligned in such a way that we formed an… understanding. An agreement of reciprocity. I help him achieve his end goal, and he would help me achieve mine.”

“And what end goals would that be?”

“Striking a blow to our competitors.”

So far nothing he’d said had registered on her internal lie detector, her super power, but he was being awfully vague. “You said things didn’t end well between the two of you?”

“I held up my end of the bargain, but realized too late the means by which he intended to uphold his. One that would have left considerable collateral damage in its wake.”

“So, why are you looking for him now? After all this time?”

Jones swallowed heavily and something equally weighty settled in his forget-me-not eyes, sending a warm current through her belly. “I believe locating him will return something quite valuable to me.”

“You think he has something that belongs to you?”

A small smile stretched over his lips and his gaze dropped to his fingers, still toying with the rings on his hand. “It doesn’t belong to me,” he stated with a tone of melancholy. “Though I wish it did.” His eyes met hers once more and Emma felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from her office. “My goal is to return it to its rightful place, and I need your help to do that.”

Emma wet her lips, the way his eyes followed the action did not escape her attention. “Why me? Why not go to the police?”

“I, uh…” He reached up and scratched behind his ear. “My actions weren’t exactly above board during our brief partnership,” he confessed. “I’d rather not involve the authorities if we can avoid it.”

“And what happens when I find Mr. Mendell?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“I mean,” she leaned back in her chair, hands laced together as she fixed him with a serious stare, ignoring the way her heart skipped at the slip of his endearment. “I’m going to need some assurances you aren’t planning to mete out your own brand of justice when we find Mr. Mendell.”

A smirk played at his lips and his brow twitched in a cheeky fashion. “What sort of man do you take me for, Swan?”

“The kind that holds a grudge and would go to great lengths for revenge.” Emma wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they certainly felt honest as they passed her lips.

A look of surprise flashed in Killian’s eyes and was quickly replaced with a demeanor of regret. “You’re not wrong there, love,” he muttered softly. “But revenge is not something I’m seeking. Not any longer. I only wish to make things right, and as proof of that… when you find where the man might be you can accompany me.”

“What?”

“Come with me when I go to confront him,” he offered. “Seems to me it would be in both our interests. Should he still be in the area, you can make sure I do nothing untoward, and if he isn’t, it’ll save me time in returning so you can continue your search for him.”

Emma’s superpower told her there was an ulterior motive at play with his suggestion, yet she couldn’t help but think those red flags surrounding Killian Jones weren’t really anything to worry about. The man was a mystery, and definitely trouble, but there was also something about him that resonated with Emma. Almost like she knew him, as if they had some sort of kinship or connection, a feeling of trust and…

Emma shook her head. This man, this Killian Jones, was a stranger. She didn’t know him anymore than he knew her. He was merely a client, and she had a job to do.

“We can discuss that option more after I find this guy,” she stated, picking up her pen and getting back to business.

After several more minutes of collecting any information Jones could give her about Greg Mendell, she walked him back out to the lobby only to be met by her son who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Mom! Mom! Guess what? There’s a pirate ship at the marina!”

“Henry! Please excuse my son, Mr. J-Killian,” she implored before turning her attention to her son. “Henry, I’m not done working yet.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry said sheepishly, offering an apologetic expression to the man beside her. “Sorry, mister.”

“It’s alright, lad,” Killian chuckled. “A pirate ship, you say? Now that is exciting. Though, might I ask what you were doing down at the marina?”

“Henry takes a sailing class there a few times a week,” Emma explained.

Killian’s face lit up with delight. “Does he, indeed?”

“Yeah,” the boy shrugged. “I just got really into it after we moved here from Boston.”

“Well, it’s a fine endeavor - sailing,” Killian affirmed. “One I take part in myself.”

“Really?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“Aye. In fact, I do believe the vessel in question is my own.”

Henry’s eyes widened with exuberance. “You own the pirate ship?”

 “Captain Killian Jones, at your service, lad.” Extending his hand, Jones offered her son a warm smile.

“Cool!” Henry took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Henry Swan.” Emma thought she saw a glint of amusement pass over Killian’s features before her son continued to pepper him with questions. “Is it really called the Jolly Roger? Like in Peter Pan?”

Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear again, and Emma was coming to enjoy that particular tell of his. “She is. I guess you could say, I’ve always related a bit with Captain Hook.” He lifted up his left hand and for the first time Emma realized it wasn’t his actual hand at all but some sort of stiff prosthetic. How had she missed that?

“Wasn’t he the villain?” Henry questioned pointedly.

“Oh, aye. He was a villain, to be sure, but Pan and the crocodile weren’t much better, truth be told.” The hard truth ringing from his words gave Emma pause. She saw Killian’s eyes flick over to her with prudence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I should let you get to your evening with your boy.”

“Right,” Emma replied, shaking off the odd moment. “I’ll be in touch. Talk with you soon, Killian.”

“I look forward to it, love.”

~/~

Killian ducked into a nearby alley and focused on steadying his breathing. A year had done nothing to diminish the yearning in his heart and longing in his soul for the woman he’d sworn to think of each passing day of their separation. Seeing her after all this time, holding her hand in his and hearing her say his name without any recognition sparking within her sea glass eyes had been a whole new level of torment, but one he would willingly endure if it meant getting her to remember.

The pretense he was having to carry out was fraught with complications, and he would have to keep his wits about him if he had any hope of pulling off the ruse. He couldn’t afford for the feelings he had for her to surface now. Feelings he’d desperately tried to bury this long year apart. He was a stranger to her and Henry, and he had to make sure Swan’s suspicions of him remained low.

Still. It didn’t stop him from watching the two of them as they left Emma’s office, Henry animatedly chatting away about his day and how cool it was that her newest client owned a pirate ship. The corners of Killian’s lips turned up at the sight of them, and he couldn’t help but wonder if their previous adventures on the Jolly Roger had been what spurred the boy’s sudden interest in sailing, at least on some subconscious level.

Once Swan and the lad had disappeared in the opposite direction of the docks, Killian headed back to his ship to give Neal a full report. He knew the man wasn’t a fan of this plan. They’d argued over it off and on the past four days as Killian learned all he could about this realm’s modern age, as Neal called it. The man had driven him to the point of such frustration that he’d almost insisted he return to his apartment in the city or walk the plank. They needed one another though, and Killian knew Neal would never trust him with Emma. Knew the man assumed the pirate would go back on his word to back off; a promise he’d given in Storybrooke before Pan’s curse had ripped them back to the Enchanted Forest.

He owed it to Neal to keep that promise. Owed it to Emma and Henry, too.

“Well?” Neal called out from the deck when Killian approached the gangplank. “How did it go?”

“She agreed to take the case,” Killian informed him, nodding towards his cabin so they could continue to speak in private.

“I still don’t understand why you’re having her search for Greg.” Neal slumped down into the desk chair, setting Killian’s teeth on edge as he removed his jacket and hung it on a hook next to the door. “Wouldn’t August make more sense?”

“August has ties to you,” Killian pointed out… again. “He met with you when he was in New York before coming to Storybrooke. A search for him could lead to you and we can’t risk Swan discovering our connection.” He gestured between the two of them then added, “Besides. I’ve never met August. She would have seen through that lie in an instant.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Neal scoffed, once again dismissing Emma’s gift to parse out lies. “But what if her search for Greg leads to Tamara? That’ll lead her back to me, too.”

“It didn’t the first time she looked into the two of them.”

“What?”

Killian smirked at the man. “You really think she didn’t dig up everything she could on Greg when he first came to town, and then did the same thing with Tamara when she arrived? She didn’t find a connection between them then, no reason to think she would now.”

“How do you know she investigated them?”

“Have you met her?” Killian quipped with raised brows.

“Okay, you may have a point there.”

A muffled call from above grabbed both their attentions. “Ahoy! Anyone aboard?”

“Stay here,” Killian told Neal before heading towards the deck. When he arrived it was to find an older gentleman waiting by the gangplank.

“Ahoy there!” the man greeted. “Permission to come aboard?”

Killian waved him up, his brows pulled together and his stance wary as he waited for the stranger to state his purpose.

“Sorry to bother you,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I’m Mr. Walters. I’m the sailing instructor for one of the marina’s classes for kids. I was hoping to speak to you about your ship, mister...”

“Jones. Captain Killian Jones.” He took the man’s proffered hand with a smile then asked, “What about my ship?”

“Some of my students noticed her earlier, and they all went a little nuts… as did I, if I’m being honest. She’s quite something.”

“Aye,” Killian preened with pride. “She’s a marvel.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let me bring my students over for a closer look at her? Maybe give them a tour, answer some questions about her? They’d be supervised of course,” Mr. Walters ensured him. “I’d be there, along with a few parents I can get to chaperone.”

Killian’s mind began to whirl with possibilities. Would this be the class Henry was a part of? Would Emma volunteer to accompany his class on a tour of a pirate ship, knowing it most certainly had to be his? It would give him an opportunity to spend time with her outside of their current business arrangement, and perhaps a little bit of bonding with the lad would warm her up to him. Help alleviate any trepidation she was feeling over her initial read on him.

“Mr. Walters, I’d be delighted to have your charges visit the Jolly Roger.”

~/~

“Hook!” she screamed when the dark spectre slammed him against the trunk of a nearby tree. Pained cries tore from the back of his throat, and glittering currents of magic began to spark around the man’s aura as the shadowy figure began stripping something dark and billowy from Hook’s form, which remained partly obscured by the being tormenting him.

“Swan! Run!” he shouted. “Just go!”

She couldn’t leave him. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose him. Not him. Not when she finally…

An effervescence she’d never felt before flared to life within her, allowing her to light the candle in her hand. More screams echoed through the hollow, accompanied by the sound of something being wrenched forcibly asunder, making Emma’s stomach turn with fear. Had she been too late to finally face the truth? Too late to save him?

Emma bolted upright in bed. Her breathing was labored and a sheen of cold perspiration clung to her skin. Switching on her bedside lamp, she waited out the racing of her pulse until it slowed to a more normal rhythm before getting up to fetch a glass of water.

It had been months since she’d had that nightmare. Some deranged manifestation of the Peter Pan tale her mind had inexplicably cooked up. She’d never even read the book, had only seen the Disney cartoon a handful of times, and couldn’t distinguish one version of the live action films from the other after seeing them with Henry in the theatre over the years. Why she started having nightmares about Neverland, shadows, a dark hollow, and Captain Hook after she and Henry had moved to New York, she’d never know.

Emma gulped down the water, choking back a cough when it rushed over the agitated areas of her parched throat, and went back to bed. Lying awake, the scene played itself over and over again as it always did when it haunted her dreams. No matter how many times she’d had the nightmare she’d never been able to get a good look at Hook, though she somehow knew he was not the waxed mustache and permed version Disney and Hollywood portrayed him to be. Why she was concerned over a literary villain was puzzling, as was the fact that it was more than concern she felt for him in those moments of fear.

A lot more.

Punching her pillow, Emma rolled over and closed her eyes, willing away the images. Slowly they faded into her subconscious, but before disappearing into the oblivion once more, Hook’s pleas rang through her ears one last time.

“Swan! Run!” he shouted. “Just go!”

Emma’s eyes sprang open. She recognized that voice.

No. It couldn’t be.

But it was. The voice in her dream hadn’t changed. It was the same as it had always been. The accent, the lilt, the timbre, the way it sent a shiver of want through her the exact same way it had when he’d introduced himself in the waiting room of her office. Killian Jones. Her newest client.

What the hell was he doing posing as Captain Hook in her dreams?

Chapter 2