#also there’s probably like at least 50 fics about this exact thing. They probably just hugged it out

[kittykatninja321]

I kinda wanna know how Jason’s resurrection and return went down in wfa verse. A wfa-filtered under the red hood would be kinda funny like does he still behead people?

[redsummermoon]

Hello! I love your writing, to start. I know you said you only like to write for Charlie, buuuut sense you also asked for ideas, I thought I’d mention this one I had! So I’m the odd man out and actually have a fascination with Richard Cameron. I know, don’t hurt me. But I was thinking of a scenario with a female reader and a sort of “enemies to lovers” fic with Cameron? Basically where they’re complete opposites. Maybe the reader is popular and rebellious, and of course Cameron is himself. They’ve got nothing in common except the poetry meetings they like to go to, and they really just make snarky comments back and forth the whole time. Then finally (sense it’s fall) they end up going to a Halloween party. (Perhaps there’s drinking involved?) And Cameron ends up seeing the reader in her costume, that by 50’s standards might be a little risqué, and he’s like “how tacky, girls shouldn’t dress like that”, but secretly he ends up like … 👀❤️ And then smooch

Anyways, that’s my idea. Feel free to ignore. Thanks, love 💗

Of course my first request is cameron😒 (IM KIDDING) 

Thanks for requesting!! I hope I did your fascination justice❤️

Something More

Richard Cameron x reader CW: use of Y/N, female reader, blonde hair reader, underage drinking, making fun of nervous stuttering [2.9k words] 

Cameron had never understood Y/N.

Sure, she was smart. Probably too smart for someone who spent most of her time breaking rules with Charlie Dalton or getting involved in Neil Perry’s theatrical antics. Cameron could almost tolerate Charlie’s rebellious streak. After all, they were roommates, and you had to pick your battles. But Y/N… there was something about her that made it impossible for him to simply look the other way.

It wasn’t that he hated her. At least, Cameron didn’t think it was hatred. Maybe it was the way she always seemed to one-up him. Like when she managed to sweet-talk her way out of trouble for sneaking into the theater building late at night, or when she got away with challenging the headmaster’s every word without consequence. Charlie thought she was brilliant, and Neil seemed to gravitate toward her, especially during their impromptu play rehearsals. But to Cameron, Y/N was the embodiment of everything he wasn’t. Free-spirited, fearless, and… reckless.

He sighed, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the small dorm mirror. "Rivals," he muttered under his breath. That was what he’d settled on. They were rivals. Even if he didn’t quite understand why it bothered him so much.

Cameron knew he was no rebel. He liked rules, structure, and order. It was what made him who he was. But then came Neil’s ridiculous idea of reviving the Dead Poets Society. Neil had made it sound poetic and adventurous, a hidden escape from the suffocating walls of Welton. It was, of course, the exact sort of thing Charlie and Y/N would love.

Naturally, Cameron wanted no part of it. Sneaking out after curfew, wandering into the woods, all for the sake of reading poetry in secret? It was a direct violation of school policy, and Cameron wasn’t about to jeopardize his future over some poetry club. At least, that’s what he had been planning to say when Neil invited him.

But then, of course, he overheard Neil mentioning Y/N would be there.

He had no idea why that changed things, but suddenly, Cameron felt a knot tighten in his stomach. She’d be there, laughing, breaking the rules, and Cameron knew exactly how it would play out. She’d have that smug look on her face, as if she’d won some unspoken battle between them. She’d act as if she was braver, bolder, and once again, she’d leave Cameron in her dust.

"Fine," Cameron said to Neil, trying to hide the nervous edge in his voice. "I’ll go."

He hated the way his palms started sweating the moment he agreed, and the anxiety that knotted in his chest only tightened as the hours passed. Sneaking out wasn’t his thing. But he couldn’t let Y/N have this. Not this time. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she was more daring than him.

Later that night, as Cameron made his way through the shadows of Welton’s halls, he tried to calm the rising tide of his nerves. His heart pounded in his chest, each footstep feeling heavier than the last. This was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. He shouldn’t be sneaking out to the woods, shouldn’t be joining some secret society that defied everything Welton stood for.

But when he thought of Y/N, laughing and teasing him about being too scared to join them, he gritted his teeth and pressed forward.

The night was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed against Cameron's ears, heightening his anxiety as they made their way into the woods. Neil and Charlie led the group, their low murmurs and laughter breaking the stillness every now and then. Cameron lagged behind, mentally cataloging every risk, every infraction, every possible way this could go horribly wrong.

Then there was Y/N.

She darted ahead of the group, her footsteps loud as she ran through the leaves, laughing as she threw her arms out wide. “This is it, boys! The start of our revolution!” she shouted into the night air.

Cameron winced. “Shut up,” he hissed, jogging up to catch her. “We’re still too close to the school!”

Y/N only grinned, glancing over her shoulder at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Relax, Cameron. No one’s going to hear us out here.”

“They will if you keep yelling like that.” He grabbed her arm, tugging her back toward the group. “Do you ever think? We’re supposed to be sneaky, and you’re—”

Before he could finish, Y/N spun around, eyes wide in mock innocence. “Me? You think I’m the problem?”

“Yes!” Cameron’s voice cracked slightly, his frustration rising. “You’re always so loud—”

Y/N leaned in closer, yelling, “Am I?”

He groaned, placing his hand over her mouth to stop whatever retort she had coming. “Just... quiet.”

For a moment, Y/N’s eyes locked onto his. They glimmered with mischief as Cameron rambled on about the consequences if they got caught. She wasn’t even listening. She never listened. Then, without warning, she licked his hand.

“Ugh!” Cameron pulled back, wiping his hand on his blazer.

Y/N smirked. “Thanks for the taste, Cameron!” She winked, then darted ahead, disappearing into the trees.

Cameron stood there for a moment, seething as her laughter echoed back at him. “That damn girl,” he muttered under his breath, before hurrying to catch up with the others.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

A few weeks later, they’d settled into their usual spot in the woods, the group began their poetry readings. Neil always read with confidence, Charlie with charm, and even Knox, when not obsessing over some girl, could manage to stumble through his lines.

Then there was Cameron, who dreaded his turn.

“I-I think I’ll go next,” Cameron announced, clearing his throat as he stood up, gripping the poetry book a little too tightly.

Y/N leaned over to Neil, whispering loud enough for Cameron to hear, “Brace yourselves, boys. Here comes another thrilling performance from Mr. Perfection himself.”

Cameron’s face burned. He shot her a look, but Y/N just smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes in mock innocence. He started to read, his voice wavering on the first line.

“Wh-Whose woods these are I think-I think I know. H-His-his house is in the-the village though.”

Y/N leaned in closer, whispering to Charlie. Cameron figured she would be making fun of his stuttering.

Cameron shot her another glare, stumbling on his next line. “H-He will not see m-me stopping he-here.”

Charlie snorted under his breath, but Neil shot Y/N a warning look. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back against a rock. Still, the damage was done, and Cameron barely made it through the rest of the poem without losing his nerve.

Later, when Knox started talking (again) about his girl troubles, Y/N took it as her cue to play matchmaker. “You just need to be bolder, Knox! Girls love confidence. You’ve gotta show her you’re the one!”

Cameron sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, can you not? We’re trying to read poetry, not solve Knox’s love life.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What’s wrong, Cameron? Jealous? I can help you with your stuttering and your girl problems.”

He scoffed. “I don’t have girl problems.”

“Oh, really? Then why is your face red every time I’m around?” Y/N shot back.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

Lately, Y/N has been… different. She’d still tease him, but it wasn’t with the same sharpness, the same eagerness to provoke a reaction. Her jokes seemed half-hearted, like she was holding something back.

One evening, after Cameron had finished reading his poem, without stuttering for once, he looked up to see Y/N staring at him. Not smirking or rolling her eyes, but actually staring. For a second, Cameron thought he might’ve imagined it, but when he caught her gaze, she quickly looked away, focusing on the ground.

What was that about?

“Hey, Y/N,” Cameron asked after the meeting had ended, the others already making their way back toward the school. She stopped, turning to face him, the moonlight casting soft shadows over her face. “You… didn’t make fun of me tonight.”

She blinked, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. “Would you rather I had?”

Cameron shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “No, I just… I noticed.”

“Maybe I’m getting soft. Or maybe you’re getting better,” Y/N shrugged. “See you at the Halloween party tomorrow.”

Before Cameron could reply, she brushed past him, her arm grazing his as she walked by. He stood there for a moment, confused, flustered, and less irritated than he usually was after one of their encounters.

That damn girl.

• • • • • ☽ ☼ ☾ • • • • •

Cameron adjusted his soldier's uniform for the tenth time, nervously scanning the cafeteria. The decorations were tacky but festive, with paper bats hanging from the ceiling and pumpkins lining the tables. People had gone all out with their costumes, and the music blaring from the speakers set the perfect atmosphere for the Halloween party at Chris’s high school.

Cameron wasn’t usually one for these kinds of things, but tonight, he was trying to make an effort. His friends were really excited and that kind of energy was contagious. He spotted Knox and Chris almost immediately. Knox was beaming, dressed as Batman, and Chris, right beside him in a Batwoman costume, clung to his arm like they were in their own little world.

Knox caught Cameron’s eye and waved him over. “Cameron! You made it!”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” Cameron said, though his eyes were still darting around the room. “You guys seen Charlie or Y/N?”

Chris and Knox exchanged a look before laughing.

Cameron frowned. “What?”

Knox shrugged, grinning. “You don’t want to know.”

Cameron’s confusion only deepened. “What do you mean by that?”

Neil strolled up at that moment, wearing a Dracula costume that, somehow, actually suited him. His cape billowed dramatically as he greeted them. Cameron wasted no time.

“Neil, where’s Charlie and Y/N? They said they’d be here.”

Neil shook his head, chuckling softly. “Trust me, Cameron, you don’t want to know.”

Before Cameron could press further, the doors swung open, and Charlie made his grand entrance. Dressed as a pirate, complete with an eyepatch, a fake sword strapped to his waist, and a slightly tipsy grin, Charlie swaggered into the cafeteria.

“There he is,” Knox said, laughing as Charlie made his way over.

“Cameron!” Charlie greeted him loudly, saluting to his friend. “Good to see ya, soldier boy!”

Cameron’s nose crinkled. “You’ve been drinking already?”

“Sir yes, sir!” Charlie smirked, holding up a cup of punch. He shoved the cup into Cameron’s hand. “Here, have some. Courtesy of me and Y/N.”

Cameron eyed the cup warily but took a sip. His throat burned slightly from the spike of alcohol, and he shot Charlie a look. “You spiked the punch?”

Charlie wiggled his eyebrows. “Of course. It’s a party, Cam! Loosen up!”

Cameron sighed, lowering the cup. “Speaking of Y/N... where is she?”

Charlie’s eyes lit up with mischief, and he let out a low whistle. “Oh, just wait until you see her. She’s… well, you’ll see.”

The noise of the party seemed to dull as the doors swung open again, and in walked Y/N, dressed as Marilyn Monroe. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she moved through, her heels clicking against the floor, and every head, boy and girl alike, turned to stare.

Y/N wore a tight, black dress that shimmered under the dim lights, with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. The back was almost entirely see-through, revealing glimpses of her skin with every step. The dress ended high on her thighs, adorned with frills that swayed as she walked. A long strand of pearls hung from her neck, falling gracefully down from her ruby-red lips as she held a pearl between them. Her hair was perfectly styled in soft, platinum blonde curls, pinned in a way that mimicked the iconic Marilyn Monroe look.

Cameron could only stare. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his cheeks burning. He should’ve known from Charlie’s reaction that Y/N would come dressed to impress, but this… this was something else.

“Holy...,” he muttered under his breath. “Girls shouldn’t dress like that.”

Charlie elbowed him with a grin. “Come on, man. Just enjoy it.”

But Cameron couldn’t. Or rather, he couldn’t stop himself from looking. As Y/N made her way through the crowd, it was as if the entire room was drawn to her. She moved with confidence, a playful smirk on her lips as people whispered and gawked at her.

Charlie nudged Cameron again, this time a bit harder. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…” Cameron stammered, quickly downing the rest of the punch in his cup. The alcohol did nothing to calm his nerves.

And then, she was there. Right in front of them.

Y/N smiled, looking between Charlie and Cameron. “Hey, boys.”

Charlie gave her a whistle again. “Y/N, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Y/N gave a little twirl, the frills of her dress bouncing playfully. “You like it?” Her eyes landed on Cameron, and her smile grew wider. “What about you, Cameron?”

Cameron swallowed hard. “I, uh... well...”

Before he could gather his thoughts, Charlie cut in, laughing. “Cameron’s jaw was on the floor the second you walked in. Couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she turned her full attention to Cameron. “Really?” Her voice was teasing, but there was a warmth in her expression that made Cameron’s face heat up even more.

“I-I wasn’t—” Cameron started to protest, but he felt his cheeks growing even redder, and he knew there was no denying it.

Y/N’s smile widened, clearly pleased. “Well, I’m glad you approve.” She reached out and lightly touched his arm. “I think your costume is great too, by the way. Very handsome.”

Cameron opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He nodded quickly, feeling more flustered than ever, and Charlie burst out laughing at the sight of him. Cameron couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the heat rising in his cheeks, but either way, he was in over his head.

As Charlie walked away, giving Cameron a playful wink before disappearing into the crowd, Y/N stayed by Cameron’s side. The music had shifted to something slower, softer, and the energy in the room had mellowed. Y/N turned to Cameron, her smile softening as she caught his gaze.

“So,” she began, taking a small step closer, “what do you say? Want to dance with me?”

Cameron blinked, taken aback. “Dance? With… me?”

Y/N laughed, nodding. “Yes, you. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Still confused, Cameron hesitated. “Why are you being so… nice to me?” He glanced down, feeling the weight of her attention more than ever. “I mean, we’re not exactly… friends.”

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, but there was a tenderness in her expression. “I guess something’s changed,” she said, shrugging lightly. “I don’t want to be rivals anymore. I don’t think we need to be.”

Cameron’s brow furrowed. “You don’t?”

“No,” Y/N said simply. She looked him in the eyes, her expression sincere. “I don’t want to argue with you all the time. It’s exhausting. I think we could be something else. What do you think, Cameron? Is that okay with you?”

Cameron felt his heart race. She was being so open, so honest. He hadn’t expected this. “I... yeah. That’s okay with me.”

Y/N’s eyes twinkled as she took another step closer, her voice dropping to a soft, almost teasing tone. “Good. So... what do you think we should be, then?”

Cameron swallowed nervously, unsure of how to answer. “I... I don’t know. What do you want to be?”

Y/N’s smile grew wider, playful but warm. “Well,” she said, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm, “maybe this can be our first date. You know, to figure out if we should just be friends... or something more.”

Cameron’s mind went blank for a second, but deep down, he knew what he wanted. He had always been drawn to her, even through their bickering, even when he told himself it was just rivalry. The truth was, it had always been something more.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little shaky but determined. “I think I’d like to be something more.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, her smile becoming something softer, more genuine. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Prove it.”

Without thinking, Cameron closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss. The world seemed to disappear for a moment. The party, the music, the people; everything faded into the background. It was just them, standing in the middle of the dance floor, sharing something neither of them had expected.

When they pulled apart, Y/N was smiling, her cheeks flushed. “Well, that’s a good start.”

Cameron smiled back, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “So... does that mean we’re not rivals anymore?”

Y/N laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the center of the dance floor. “Nope. From now on, we’re on the same team.”

As they began to dance, moving in time with the soft music, Cameron couldn’t help but feel like this was the best first date he could’ve imagined. Y/N, with all her teasing and fire, was someone he’d always admired, and now, she was something more.

(Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By Robert Frost included (one of my fav poems))

[allwaswell16]

I was tagged by @magicalrocketships thank youu! ily!

Name: Anitra

Sign: Libra

Time: 1:47

Last movie: Oof I hardly ever watch movies. I think the last one I saw was Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse. I took my kids to see it and I actually really loved it. Do documentaries count as movies? If they do, then I just watched Class Action Park a few days ago.

Last show: The last one I watched was Barry. Still midway through Season 2 of that one.

When I created this blog: 2014

Other blogs: fades into the bushes like Homer Simpson, listen I'm always doing 50 things at once, okay?

@hlficlibrary - my Louis/Harry fic rec blog

@letsdocuboutit - my newest one! for my new podcast!

@1dmonthlyficroundup - where I roundup all the current 1d fics each month!

@louisrarepairfest - for the currently posting Louis rare pair fest I run

@soulmatesabroad - for a past fic fest I ran for 3 years and might run again

@1dbreakupfest - ran this fest once and might run it again someday

@podfic-pals - member of this one where we post 1d podfics!

whispers should I talk about the other ones? lol FINE

@louli5ever - dedicated to Oli and the Louli friendship, is it fairly extensive for something that's kind of a joke? maybe.

@hotguyluke - dedicated to Louis' hot friend Luke. Is this also fairly extensive for someone we rarely see? also yes. I don't do things half way, okay?

Let's pretend there aren't any more, okay? Those were the sort of active ones.

Do I get asks/may you ask me something: Yep! Mostly I get asks about fics, but sometimes I write silly things in the tags, feeling like I'm talking to myself and then someone will send me an ask about them and I'm like oh yeah you can all see these

Average hours of sleep: Sighhhhhhhhhhh. I try to sleep from 11-7. Do I sleep from 11-7? No. I probably get to sleep closer to midnight. And since June I have had nightmares almost every single night. Yay. They wake me up multiple times and then I go back to sleep to endure more nightmares before I wake up at 7. So much fun. Yes, I've gone back to therapy.

Instruments: I wish! My son takes drum lessons so I'm living vicariously for now.

What I’m wearing: I wear Louis merch almost every single day, but you've caught me on an off day. I have a pink sweatshirt on that's from my local zoo and some navy blue pants with a white graphic pattern on them and pink Care Bear socks. I have 3 types of hoodies...Louis, Chicago Cubs, and my local zoo. I do not know why I have decided these three things are my entire personality, but oh well.

Dream job: I used to say writer. But I don't know if I want to do that professionally anymore. Or at least I don't think I want to be a fiction writer as a job. And the reason for that is that I love it too much. I love writing so much and it has always been such a huge part of who I am. Do I want to make it into something else? Do I want it to be a job that I "have" to do? Will it still be fun? Will it turn into a chore? I can't stand the thought that I could lose that joy. This is going to maybe piss some writers off lol, but I've never experienced writer's block. I've never sat down and been unable to write something. I'm always writing the exact thing that I want to write in that moment. It's one of the luckiest best things about me. What I've kind of turned to now is podcasting because it is something that I enjoy that I think I'm kind of good at and that I could potentially monetize one day. And it does involve writing because I have to write up notes and talk about something. But that's not really the same as writing a story. blah blah blah sorry this was so long.

I'll tag: @dearlou @noellehenry-original @gaycousinlarry @fallinglikethis @ohharold @joliepetitelou @statementlou and anyone else who wants to do this just say I tagged you!

[love-fireflysong]

Got tagged by @queenofbaws like 6 seconds ago to do this thing and because I'm currently trying SUPER hard to stay awake for at least another three hours to get me back on a 'normal' sleep schedule for the next week and a half, we're doing this shit now! ...and also because if I don't do it now then I'll just forget about it and never do it asjdhkjahsdkjs

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

59! Not a bad total all things considered ��

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

337,514. That's an average of 5,720 words per fic btw akjdshjkahsd

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Until Dawn mostly. Got a decent amount of Tales of Phantasia stuff as well as a lot of ideas for it but cause that fandom is even deader than ud's, I never actually write any of it lmao

4. Top five fics by kudos

Valentine's Day Prompts (crossed out because while it's *technically* my highest I do not count it for the sole reason that like literally not even ten minutes after I uploaded it I got like 50+ guest kudos all at once so those are clearly bots and the correct kudos count is probably somewhere between 20 and 30 lol) What I actually consider my top five fics by kudos are:

The Final Days of Our Youth

More Than Worth It (though considering it was posted only barely a week after the vday prompts the kudos may be a bit suspect here as well 🤔)

Nothing and Nobody But You

The Sound of Silence

Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I did/do. And by that I mean I love to, but the last couple of years I've been letting the few I've gotten pile up due to not being in a good headspace to answer/I've just been really busy at that exact moment. Which is important, cause if I don't have the time to respond then and there, I will just keep forgetting to reply. Which is how I've reached the point where I have almost 2 year old comments that I want to respond to but I feel like shit answering them now 2 years later, and let me tell you the feeling does NOT get any less guilty the longer I wait to respond aksjdhkajsdhjk

(maybe I should use this time to answer them while I try to stay awake lmao)

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

Hmmmm. I mean, technically the one I'm writing now? It's probably between Winter is Death and Not Only Monsters Hide Under the Bed where one fic involves Hannah slowly losing her free will as she spends a year with the Makkapitew taking over her body and the other is about a little girl hiding from the people sent to kill her village but being found and killed just before her brother got home to save her.

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

...Somehow, this is the harder of the two to answer aksdjkjahsdkjashd uh.... pretty much any chrashley focus fic where the ending involves them actually confessing and getting together I guess? But if I have to chose one, I think The Final Days of Our Youth cause it's chrashley confessing and getting together, but also repairing their friendship that Chris very nearly torpedoed cause he's an avoidant moron.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Surprisingly no! Thankfully anyone who does not like the ships I write for does not read my fics and thus does not leave comments. And if there us people out there who just do not vibe with my writing style (understandable) they've just clicked back and not responded either.

9. Do you write smut?

Once! I did it once and only once because I just really, really wanted to read about an awkward and clumsy first time between Chris and Ashley and that, uh, did not exist. So I (unfortunately for everyone lol) took it upon myself to write it. That being said, because it is smut, it is unsurprisingly the one fic I can always count on getting a new kudos or bookmark on every now and then.

And I will probably never write another one again sorry not sorry lol.

10. Craziest crossover?

I mean the only crossovers I've ever done is my Outlast au stuff but I don't really consider that a 'crazy' crossover lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! Like I'm not even sure that they've been scrapped by AI sites. Not sure why anyone would want to steal my fics in the first place though honestly.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I mean, no one's ever asked so I assume not? If they did though than all the power to them.

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

Nope! Never been asked and never asked anyone lol.

14. All time favourite ship?

I mean, Chris/Ashley easily, though Chris/Josh/Ashley is a *very* close second lol. (Chester/Arche is also a very close third but no one other than me here knows who they even are so askldjaslkdjsa)

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god, the actual main outlast au fic that really delves into how the initial prank on Hannah snowballed into climbing chrash being thrust into experiencing the events of the Outlast video game. Except that's not a wip I've even started despite all the notes and timelines in my head 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

I do think dialogue is my strongest strength personally. I think it flows fairly naturally, to the point where I've sometimes gotten stuck on a scene and switching over to some dialogue either earlier on or just throwing a line in randomly will just unstick *something* in the brain and my creativity output stops being a blockage and returns to it's trickle aksjdhaskdhj

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Literally everything else? Descriptions. I just feel like I can't describe things very well and so I'm always worried that my writing tends to read flat because of it.

Also, due to being told that I'm a waste of space, stupid, ugly, blah blah blah by like 99% of my classmates from like grade 1 to grade 9 my self-esteem when it comes to shit like this is unsurprisingly pretty fucking abysmal! So every time I go to post something new I spend way too long hovering over that upload button convinced that this is the fic that will convince everyone that I'm actually a terrible writer and they won't like me anymore lol

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Never had to use it before myself but it's neat when done... not right or well but, like, done to achieve something you've planned out. I'm not sure what ways I would use it myself, I think it would depend on what use I need it to have in the story itself.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Oh Class of the Titans easy. Inuyasha is where I discovered fanfiction, but CotT is what inspired me to try it out for myself (my first attempt was uh, not great aksdjklasjdlkasj)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh god, there's a tough question lol. Uh, probably between Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go) and Artificial though. Both are my babies, but Baby It's Cold Outside is the fic that finally started me writing again regularly since middle school after a like almost ten year drought. And Artificial is the one where I finally got to really sink my teeth into what makes my outlast au actually outlast and really get to experience a bunch of shit I had never really written before (torture (physical and psychological), whump, body trauma) and it turns out it was a lot of fun sdlkajsldkjaslkdj

Oh god I have to tag people to do this now don't I? Uhhhhh, @chris-hartley, @icequeen-07, @hannahwashington, @eurazba but if there's anyone else who follows me that wants to do this than please by all means go ahead! Share your work with the rest of us 💖

[walkawaytall]

For the fic ask game:

16. Is there a commonly held misconception about one of your stories that you’d like to correct for the masses? (I know of one and thought you might want an excuse to say it. 😎)

17. What does your editing process look like?

16. So, I think I actually may have touched on this answering number 20 (at least if I'm thinking of the same conversation that you are about Han's motivations in Purpose of Heritage thus far)? And, aside from that, I don't think there have been many widely-held misconceptions -- though there have definitely been different responses to certain things than I expected (like, more than one person saw Reconstitution as a bit of a downer and that was...the exact opposite of my intent with that story...but we all bring our own experiences to the stories we read, so I'm not going to say their reading is wrong per se, just that I intended for the ending of that rather melancholy fic to have a hopeful slant to it, even in the midst of life's imperfections).

Oh! Actually, I though of another one: there are moments in Purpose of Heritage specifically where Leia's straight-up wrong. Like, she is our heroine, our main character, our beloved space princes, but she's also 19/20/21 years old and traumatized and very specifically not dealing with said trauma in healthy ways at least 50% of the time (her eschewing therapy repeatedly is not supposed to be viewed as a super-great alternative to, you know, going to therapy), and there have been moments that people have clocked as Leia being a badass -- and they aren't wrong -- but I also see them as Leia's cool, together facade cracking in a way that isn't good technically.

Like, we love Leia, so the scene at the shooting range where she uses Varner Coy's blaster to shoot a line of bullseyes does feel badass and empowering and a little cathartic because that guy has been a jerk, but it's also Leia losing her cool entirely and giving into an impulsivity that I don't see as a good thing for someone in leadership to do. I didn't stick immediate consequences in there because I'm not writing an after-school special, but...just because Leia doesn't always have negative consequences for a thing doesn't mean that I included it with the intent that it was supposed to be seen as totally awesome, full-stop. Sometimes it's partially awesome, and partially a big red flag. And maybe I should be more obvious about this; I don't know. I just am not writing a morality tale exactly, so I don't want to steer the narrative into an area that makes it feel clunky or preachy.

17. For normal-length things like one-shots or Collateral, a multichapter with chapters that are a sane length (4K-6K words): I write the thing, I read the thing and edit as I read. I may or may not edit while I write; it depends on how long it is, how long it takes me to write, if any parts are giving me issues. (Like, if I get really, really stuck, I'll start on a fresh document and copy/paste different sentences and paragraphs until I can get back into a good rhythm, and in the midst of all of that, editing happens as well). I basically read and edit things several times until I'm either 1. Entirely happy with it (rare) or 2. Tired of looking at it and no longer debating about changing anything (more common).

For Purpose of Heritage, I did an unhinged and probably short-sighted thing where I wrote what was originally two chapters, decided I preferred them together, and combined them, setting a precedent for myself to write chapters that are 8K-10K words long (and that is legitimately where I've felt each chapter has a natural stopping point -- like, I'm not padding stuff to get to a certain word count. Most of the chapters, I suppose, could be split in half, but we're so far beyond that at this point, I'm just resigned to writing giant-ass chapters until this project is complete). I used to reread everything every time I set out to write a new chapter to try to ensure I didn't go off-the-rails tonally, but when that became too cumbersome, I think you were the one that mentioned having your phone read what you'd written aloud, and I use that not just to review past chapters, but also to edit (so, thank you for that suggestion if that was you, DP!). It helps me identify clunky wording and sometimes straight-up inconsistencies.

So, I usually write and edit as I write, then reread the whole chapter and edit, have my phone read it and mentally dogear what needs to be looked at and edit those pieces when I can, and then read it another time and occasionally have a beta reader (thanks for the times you've helped with this, by the way!) assure me that I haven't gone off the rails entirely if I keep worrying about one particular aspect, edit again with any beta reader suggestions in mind, and finally publish when I'm either as pleased as I'm going to be with it or I can't bring myself to read it again. I do usually try to make sure there is at least a night where I ignore the chapter entirely before doing one final editing pass-through before I post. Giving my brain a chance to not think about it helps me catch errors I missed on earlier read-throughs, and also usually helps me realize that I haven't, in fact, written a pile of garbage.

Thanks for the questions! Sorry these answers are so dang long!

fanfic writer asks

[rk-ish]

Nathalie Chapter 1 - Extended Author's Notes

This one will understandably be a bit different from the other extended authors notes I will do so lets just get into it!

[link to fic]

So the first question (if you didn't read the wiki page) is 'who is Nathalie?' or 'Is that an OC?' and those are all fair questions-

About a year ago I stumbled upon the wiki page of a scrapped protagonist for DBH and I remember finding it interesting and also thinking that I could find her and North cute together, though I don't remember the exact reason for thinking that anymore-

Regardless, when i then a few months later started to think about this AU i immidiately decided to bring the fourth protagonist back. Not only did I think that there was an interesting potential in her, but I also prefer stories that have something like a 50/50 split between male and female characters.

(later into the story you'll find that Nathalie isn't the only character I found on the wiki that I decided to bring back)

I did many versions of this first chapter, and it was the first one that i showed my friends and my sister because I really really wanted feedback on it.

First, my version of Nathalie was supposed to be as similar to Maddison Page from Heavy Rain as possible, since having played both HR and DBH and having seen the similarities in characters, it did make sense to think that would've been what Nathalie would've been in DBH. And I was initially really interested in speculating and trying to make her as close to what she would've been in DBH. I replayed HR to look at Maddisons chapters again.

Then, the last person who I showed one of the earlier drafts of the chapter to asked 'will we ever find out why she chose the name Nathalie?'

My initial plan was to google 'famous Nathalies', maybe find a journalist and mention that person offhandedly as some sort of inspiration.

This was however how I found myself scrolling trough a list of Nathalies/Natalies and noticed a pretty portrait of a blonde woman, and the text underneath it indicated that she was married to an another woman. I was ofc immidiately interested in this person and started doing further research.

That person was none other than Natalie Clifford Barney. Born in the 1800's, she was a lesbian who published the poetry book mentioned in the chapter in 1900. I wish that I could say more about it but I don't know any french.

I became a bit obsessed with Natalie Barney and ended up reading non fiction books about her for fun over the summer-

So the end product ended up being heavily influenced by Barney and the salons she hosted.

Though there is still some influence from Maddison, like the surname she chooses for herself, that one is probably borrowed from a famous journalist-

Also, Echo and Ripple and the Eden Club chapter was a big inspiration for this chapter ofc, even if they have been replaced by North and Nathalie in this

Anyway, I hope some people will enjoy this character or at least don't mind her too much, I was a bit nervous about this since well..people are a particular way about female characters in fandoms..but I do try to not write for an imaginary audience that is judging me and this story, even if I do hope that someone does ends up reading this series

The absolute best thing that could come out of this is that someone else takes an interest in the scrapped fourth protagonist and does something with the character! I think that if we as a fandom can come upp with literally everything about nines, we can start doing similar things for other minor (or straight up not in the game) characters!

Originally I had planned to make a map of the Star Park with GIS but I didn't have time, so maybe I'll include it sometime later!

Lastly, I wanted to include a link to this article that sums upp what I've learned about Natalie Clifford Barney pretty well [link]

[possiblydistasteful]

Pinned Post :)

THIS IS A SIDEBLOG, I follow back from my main (wescravings)

Basics: Frank, he/him, either an ancient withered hag or a baby depending on who you're asking (read: over 25 younger than 50). Queer leftist. I think we should have MORE kink at pride. I love freaks, perverts, and sexual deviants. I love pornography, degeneracy, and filth. Anti-censorship. Yes, even for stuff that I personally find repulsive: If it's not hate speech and doesn't involve the exploitation of an actual living child then it has a legal right to exist regardless of taste* Genuinely just here for a good time and to post annoying shit about fictional characters. I am always STOKED to talk to people about my pretend people du jour, asks and tumblr DMs always open even if we're not mutuals, and if you ever send me questions about my art or fic I am literally proposing marriage right now (psspsspss etc) Currently Posting: Right now it's mostly Succession (tagged: succession) and Saw (tagged: sawposting) but this is a multifandom blog. Various other things I have posted about in the past and probably will again in the future include: horror media of all kinds (especially games and movies), Pathologic, The Exorcist (TV), Mr. Robot, Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad, Metal Gear Solid (my beloved), The Untamed/MDZS, Bloodborne, Black Sails, The Terror... I have really varied interests and tend to hop all over the place.

I like a lot of Freak Shit™, so if you don't like horror in your horror media/transgressive themes in your fiction (violence/murder/gore, incest, consent issues, depictions of various -phobias and -isms etc) I'm probably not the blog for you. I try and tag at least the fandom and common triggers for my posts , and if you ask me to tag something I will do my best to remember, but I often post from not even the APP but the site from a mobile browser, and that shit is glitchy as hell. Also I'm deeply forgetful, so just a heads up if you rely on trigger warnings and tags. Links: Main/Art Blog (wescravings) AO3 (Adoxography) Spotify and mutuals are welcome to my discord (dm me) I Block: MINORS. I'm sure you're all very cool, but I post too much adult content and while I know I can't actually stop anyone from viewing/consuming my adult work, I have ZERO interest in interacting with kids/teens about it.

Also: bigots (racists, homophobes, and misogynists etc) in general, but in specific (for those who don't think the label 'bigot' applies): terfs, swerfs, and transmeds. queer gatekeepers (fuck you aces n aros are sick as hell 🤘), terminology discoursers, and sexual puritans.

I also will block anyone I find annoying because I'm a crotchety bastard and I highly encourage you to do the same (even/especially if the annoying person is me). *for fandom specifically YES this is the exact same as a proship position, so if I notice you have proship DNI on your blog I will also block you because I respect your boundaries 💅

[mlundertow]

Pulling a Haruka

tl;dr: Muv-Luv Undertow hasn’t been abandoned. I just have a lot going on right now.

So… long time, no write, right?

Yeah, it's probably been, what, a year and a half since I posted a chapter to Muv-Luv Undertow? You’d be fully justified in thinking it’s an abandoned fic.

Thing is, it’s not abandoned. It’s not dead.

It’s just… resting…

So… this is going to take some explaining. Content warning for severe medical conditions.

So, maybe the first thing to know about the author of Muv-Luv Undertow — that'd be me — is that I'm old, at least relative to most anime fans. Really frickin’ old. Long past the point where individual birthdays are interesting and you have to do math in your head to remember your exact age because it kind of doesn't matter anymore.

Like, seriously, the first election I could vote in was Reagan vs. Mondale, and I voted for whoever the Libertarian was, because I was still in the thrall of both-sides-are-bad poseur contrarian bullshit that took me far to long to outgrow. (That college friend that Noah mentions during the trial in book 3, the one with weirdo political opinions? That’s me trashing my younger self.)

Anyways, when you burn through your 30s, 40s, and 50s, one popular thing to do is to have kids. Both our societal traditions and contemporary media tell us this is an important, heartwarming, and even fun thing to do.

And sometimes it is!

But also, sometimes your kid is born with a congenital heart defect.

And sometimes that acts up with severe side-effects when they grow up.

And sometimes when they're in the hospital for that, a scan discovers cancer.

And sometimes when they're undergoing chemotherapy, they have a stroke.

And sometimes all of these things happen at once.

So… yeah. That's a big part of where I've been (there's more, which accounts for 2022 and why we had to move out of our house, but this is the current problem). I actually had to take four months off work — I'm lucky I work at a company where I even can do that — and I'm still not back to work full time. The kid requires a lot of care, and it has drained all my free time, between caring for him, doing my job, and giving my wife a break.

And free time is the one thing I need to work on this fanfic.

I do think I'm eventually going to get back to it, as the kid improves and life here stabilizes, but I can't put a date on that. I’d hate to set expectations and let readers down even more than I already have.

But it pains my heart to want to finish this story and not be able to. I think about it almost every day.

Still, it’s worth assessing where Undertow is, and what it’ll take to finish it once I can.

Muv-Luv Undertow was always planned as a series of five books. I wrote in that format because I wanted to mimic the light novel format that Schwarzesmarken and Total Eclipse used. I also thought it would be good discipline to have to pay off novel-length plots while spinning the tale of the larger series. I think it's intimidating to see some fic on AO3 that’s like 500,000 words or more. Even though Undertow will probably end up close to that (it’s already at 300K words), being able to see it broken up by book may be more appealing than diving into some big, potentially-unstructured sprawl.

Three books are completely done, at least as first drafts:

Broken Ship — AO3, epub

Jour de Gloire — AO3, epub

If You Tolerate This — AO3, epub

Then we have the in-progress book four:

Join the Parade — A03, epub

And speaking of “progress”, how is this actually going? Well, book four is at 72,964 words across twelve numbered chapters (not counting the front matter that AO3 counts as separate chapters, like the cover image or the epigraph). As I thought I was getting the book rolling again last December, I finally outlined the end of Act II and all of Act III, filling in a lot of gaps I had been putting off making decisions on. Book four has been the least plotted-in-advance story in the series, and that made it harder to write even back when things were moving along. It’s pretty clear that I'm a plotter, not a pantser.

One thing I did in outlining these chapters was to do virtual index cards for key beats — the things that have to happen and the things I want to happen (ideally, the Venn diagram of these should be a circle) — so I could move them around the last few chapters to see how different arrangements worked out, in terms of plot, theme, and feel.

In fact, here’s a PNG of how I ended up breaking Act III… with spoiler protection provided by the Gaussian blur filter in Acorn 7. I let a few cards go through unblurred so you can speculate about what's happening between here and there. It might read a little dull in this format, but I promise you that several things explode before we're done.

So, seven more chapters and a one-scene epilogue get us done with book four.

After that, the story ends in book five. Payoffs for stuff I've been building since the first book, some twists that you won't see coming (oh, but they're coming), and connections back into the main Muv-Luv timeline that’ll show why this story was worth telling in the first place. One thing that’ll help book five is that since so much of it is natural consequences of what’s come before, the plotting should go faster, because everything that happens is now inevitable.

You know, like when you hit Act V in any good tragedy.

One of the themes of book four has been about our protagonist Noah being pulled back to his normal life. Whatever route he chooses, the end of the current book will bring him to the point of no return, and then beyond.

Book five is titled Autumn Closin’ In. I'll save you the trouble of looking up the epigraph; it’s from the song “Night Moves”, because you can’t set a story in the woods of northern Michigan without eventually dropping in a Bob Seger song. Literally. I think Gov. Whitmer signed that into law a few years back.

Ain’t it funny how the night moves, when you just don’t seem to have as much to lose? Strange how the night moves… with autumn closin’ in.

I’ll post here in this Tumblr as things come back together. I also plan to start a Mastodon account (possibly on the anime-themed urusai.social instance, if they’ll have me) to replace the @ml_undertow Twitter account, because Elon has ruined Twitter, and everyone should be migrating off it by now, if you haven’t done so already. As things get closer to starting book five, I’ll also need to commission Hirei to do one more character design and a matching book cover. (Now that we’ve done Noah, Adrienne, Kimmy, and Don, who do you suppose will be on the final cover, and why?)

I don’t know when, but we’ll get there. And it’ll all have been worth it.

Even if it does mean suffering through a three-year Haruka-like coma.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Tender Love and Care. Alpha!Eskel X Omega!Reader

Master List

*Edited and Revised 06/07/22. Story and character developing chapters added.*

Alaska are you starting another series even though you haven't finished the last one????

Maybe........

There is like zero ABO Eskelxreaders and, seeing as filling niche genres is my specialty (as of posting this still the only person to have written Laufey x reader) I figured I would at least give it a go. How many parts am i planning? Don't know. Do I plan on smut? Honey this aint ABO for show. Is there smut in this chapter? no, in usual fashion I can't write anything short. Anyway onward to the fic!

There was a sort of endearment you had for men that were completely oblivious. Maybe it was the vulnerability they showed in not knowing. Maybe it the breath of fresh air that seeing a man asking for help—in a world where men knew all the answers—brought. Maybe it was just the utterly adorable look on Eskel’s face when he was confused. Yeah, that probably had a lot to do with it. You and the Witcher were quite familiar. Living in the closest village to Kaer Morhen you ran in too many of the Witchers. Running the only library/bookshop/book repair shop meant you ran into two Witchers more than others. Vesemir was the one you were most acquainted with, seeing as he stayed at the keep year-round. He made monthly trips to see you for supplies, to fix books for him or just to chat. You held a soft spot for the old man. His eyes seemed to hold an air of regret, you supposed in a life as long as his he had done many things he regretted, you sure had.

In truth you were not fully human. You were half fae. The daughter of a king and his once swore enemy turned lover. This meant you lived long-- in truth you were probably as old as Vesemir if not older—but still appeared fully human. This however came with it’s quirks. You were still subject to heats. Yes, if being a fae hybrid was not enough you were also an omega. This had made you unique and had drawn quite a few eyes your father was none too thrilled about. That was why you chose to stay here instead of the land of the fairies. You could visit at any time, all it took was a looking glass or a still, clear, pool of water to go back, but it was safer to reside here full time. It also came with the perks of seeing the other Witcher you were acquainted with, Eskel, standing around your shop looking for all intents and purposes, oblivious.

You had resided and run this book shop in this exact building for 50 years (you resided in a different town before that) and not once had Eskel seemed to notice you did not age. Vesemir also never said anything. You wondered if all Witchers were like this. You hoped so. As watching Eskel try to sneak glances at you while supposedly perusing books. All the while you trying to pretend like you didn’t notice, never failed to make you bury your head into a book to hide your smile.

Eskel and you had been flirting back and forth for the past 10 years. You weren’t sure how it started. The time spent with Eskel blurred into one amazing scene in your head. Over time awkward glances turned into loving glances. Jolted unexpected touches turned into lingering of hands over one another as he handed you something. In a blink a decade had passed of casual comments and gestures, and he had been your best friend before that. He knew everything, everything that made you tick or caused you to calm down.

 It excited you, knowing he would come to you every spring and fall like the rising and setting of the sun. However, you wished to progress with him. You were in no rush that was for sure, but it was becoming harder and harder to watch him walk away. Your heats felt like they were becoming lonelier and lonelier. Sure you could probably have some Alpha stay and satisfy you. Both the widower tavernowner and local blacksmith had propositioned you before.  But you didn’t want SOME Alpha. You wanted the Alpha that was too large to fit through the doorway and had to crouch. The one that would enviably knock over a book or two and then profusely apologize for it. Probably thanking all the gods above that he couldn’t blush. The one that would press wildflowers into the pages of the books he borrowed for you to find when he returned them. Yes, you wanted him. And you were intent on having him.

Just like clockwork, as the leaves started to fall, your door clicked open. The smell of Patchouli, lemongrass, and pine mixing with that of paper, leather, and ink. The smell of Eskel in your bookshop was one that enticed you to no end. You wished more than anything you could bottle it. You looked up through you lashes, away from the, frankly large, tomb you were fixing to gaze at Eskel. He narrowly avoided knocking over a stack of books while trying to maintain eye contact. You laughed quietly sitting up and looking at him straight on. His face was worn, the sun ravaged skin that comes with traveling making him even more appealing to you.

He stood before you, content to stand there all day and look at you. It was quite a few moments before he seemed to realize he was before you for a reason and grabbed at the bag from his shoulder.  He cleared his throat.

“I believe these are yours” He said. Extending the four books you had lent him this year.

“Why thank you” you replied mirth slipping into your voice. You placed the books on the floor on top of another small stack next your stool behind your desk.

“What are you working on?” Eskel said, slipping to stand behind the desk next you. On queue knocking over the stack you had just set down.

“fuckin hell” He said under his breath the venom in it lost when paired with the little giggle you gave out.

“I’m fixing this tomb for Vesemir, he’s supposed to come pick it up before winter. But, if you don’t mind staying for a bit.” Eskel perked up at the invitation.

You continued “I almost have it done. Then I can send it up with you instead of having him make the extra trip” You reached over the desk for the needle, working on fixing the outer seam of leather from where it had come undone.

“I recognize this” Eskel said from where he was peering over your shoulder. You hummed at him and you looked up to look at his face. His lips were upturned slightly and his eyes shone. His neck stretched out, leading in a trail to the wide expanse of his shoulders. As he peered over you his body enclosed around you, creating a magnetic, warm wall against your back. You leaned back just barely to get closer. Not enough to touch, just enough to get that much closer to him. Perched on the ledge, not ready to jump.

“Yes” there was an undertone of excitement in his voice  “this is the old sword drill manual. Why on earth would Vesemir want you to restore this?” Confusion marred his face as he continued “All of us have this thing memorized, hell Vesemir himself could probably quote it word for word.”

“Maybe he’s sentimental?” you offered. Recalling how gingerly Vesemir had carried the manual into you.

“Perhaps, but seems a strange thing to be sentimental over.” He dismissed.

“Oh come on” You started playfully. ”You can’t tell me there isn’t one thing in that keep you don’t want to preserve?”

He seemed to ponder it a moment before nodding slowly

“You know there is one thing.”

“what?” you asked. You turned to face him better, an arm resting on the back of the chair.

“A book of poetry from my mother. It’s the only thing I have from when before I took up the path, outside of some vague memories. It’s only the size of a hand or so. I snuck it into the keep in the waistband of my pants and kept it in the straw of my mattress in the bunks.” He looked off in the distance for a moment. Emotion flashing behind his eyes.

“I haven’t read it in years for fear it will completely fall apart” It didn’t seem like he was talking to you. It was more like he was talking to himself, or someone else lost in his memories.  You lifted you hand to his arm, grabbing his attention once more.

“If only you knew someone that fixed books” You said eyes gesturing back and forth between his gaze and the book you were fixing. He laughed a moment.

“I suppose I never thought of that, though I’m afraid if it wouldn’t survive a simple read it certainly couldn’t take traveling down a mountain.” You hated the dejected tone that took over his voice. You were well acquainted with that feeling. The spark of hope that flares in you only to be plunged into the cold water of reality. That feeling. You wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not Eskel.  A fire was set under your skin as you spoke.

“Well we’ve got at least a good few weeks before it’s ought to snow. If you’d like I could come up to the keep myself and fix it up there. At least enough to where I could bring it back here and work on it this winter.”

“Really?” The smile reached Eskel’s eyes as he looked down expectantly at you.

“Well I mean I’ll have to miss out on all these costumers” You gestured to the empty shop. Eskel gave out a small chuckle.

“But yes Eskel I would love to fix it for you.”

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Conclusion of my SL season 1 rewatch

I don't have much of a conclusion of what happened in the show since my opinion on storylines have not changed a lot. But I can talk a bit about... other things.

Ok, so it was literally almost a year ago I finished season 1 for the first time (october 9th to be exact - I write this at 23:50 so I might even post it on the 9th if i'm a slow typer - HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!). I know this because at the same day I posted my very first SL fic. I wrote it because I thought the SL fandom would be more into writing a certain ship with how many people seemed to agree they were dating. But then I found NO ONE had written a fic about them. So I took it in my own hands and wrote one.

When I made my conclusion post for s1 after watching it the first time, it actually caused a... little discussion, in my comment section. I don't like Lutteo and I kept talking about how much I loved the non-canon ships. This caused people to legit have a discussion in my comment section about how "wow I can't believe she doesn't like Lutteo how can she?", "I don't really care for the non-canon ships cause all the canon ships are so good, so I can't relate". And they weren't even talking to me, they were talking to each other. Like ?? discuss in DMs, you don't have to discuss stuff in my comment section??

So I actually got the impression from the SL fandom, at least during that time, that they were quite... ready to speak their minds. If you had an unpopular opinion, they would come and tell you that. Reblog your posts and go "I don't agree with you and here's what I think". Always seeming to wanting to change your mind. So I, probably out of spite, started to think the opposite even more.

Now, after a year, I can see that the SL fandom is actually quite chill. Y'all used to intimidate me for years, especially when the Violetta VS SL war was at highest - I literally did not want to watch SL out of spite for like 5 years just because people told me Violetta sucks (and Violetta... is my middle school obsession show. No matter what, I will always have a deep connection to it). When I got over my stubbornness and actually watched SL, I realized "Hey! This show is actually good!" And due to the fandom seeming to not have all the same opinions as me, I kept to those opinions even more. Now, after a year, I guess I have "tamed" the SL fandom. Cause, to be honest, even when the SL fandom was intimidating, the Violetta fandom really was the same, it was just that I was used to the latter so I didn't think about it.

But enough with the fandom, I wanna talk about some characters.

I see much more how Sharon and Ámbar's relationship is not black and white. Of course, I knew this from the beginning, but when I think of the show I think "she was mean in s1, nicer but creepier in s2 and just a creep in s3". But there's so much sides already in season 1. I mean, only in the first 10 episodes, Sharon seems rather... ok, around Ámbar. There's the "Ámbar, darling, why are you up?" scene, for example. Then there's scenes where she is absolutely awful. So awful that Ámbar doesn't want to come home. But Ámbar always fights back. However, even when she fights back, she always has a relapse. She goes back to wanting to please her dear madrina. She goes back to trying to be perfect. And Sharon, also has her circle of abuse - being extremely awful, then going back and being more caring, then turning cold again when you least expect it. God, the family drama in this show is <3

I have, to be very honest, changed my sexuality hc on Nina completely. I had the ace hc for her for so long. Like, I never changed it. I always saw her as ace. But now... I am not sure of that. I thought, maybe she's demi?? She could be demi. But then I remember the first time she wrote with Roller Track, and she legit just exclaimed "Roller Track!! 🤩😍😩". Girl are you...?? I- Back when watching the first half of s1 a year ago, I actually considered a lesbian hc on her - simply because I liked the concept of "girl with overprotective parents who seem to misunderstand her and she has to hide who she is". But that hc quickly disappeared when I realized, ok, no, she's definitely into boys. At this point, I guess I can see her as like... heterosexual but biromantic??? Maybe??

I always see Ramiro as bi, but for a moment I was like "nah he's gay". No, he's... he's bi, I changed my mind again hahaha.

Side note, I have written like 300 posts with "sara's 1 year sl rewatch" so now I am wondering if I should keep using that tag or if I should make a "sara's 1 year sl rewatch s2" so it's not "too many" posts in one tag. Then again, I might just keep using this so I have less tags to remember.

As a final note, here's Jim and Yam "kissing" (and I can't believe the post I made about that didn't get more notes)

And now, we're onto s2 with more chaos, more mysteries and more of my analyses of Jim and Yam being in love that will get like 1 note at most, even if I even tag it with more tags to make it more visible, and the only thing that can make it get more notes is if I reblog it later (cause I guess y'all don't care about Jim and Yam enough. Good thing I'm here to provide some more content. No one else does anyway, so I have to).

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

The Man Comes Around

Over at the Wen Indoctrination Tower, which seems to exist just to torture Lan Wangji with stair climbing, Lan Wangji is climbing the stairs. Too bad his cultivation level is too low to be able to just jump up. At least this time his leg isn't broken.

This is the first vengeful stair-climb in the show, but not the last. (Parallel gifset here).

The Wen guards are stationed all the way at the pinnacle of this tower to guard...what? Why are they not at the bottom of the stairs? What is this location for, actually? This is further up the stairs than the scenes with the indoctrination lectures. Anyway, it's been three months since Wen Chao threw Wei Wuxian into the burial mounds, so naturally these guards are talking about that exact thing as Lan Wangji approaches.

Lan Wangji knocks them all down with a blast from his guqin. Did you know his guqin is named Wangji, by the way? It is. A guy who is that lazy about naming his quqin maybe shouldn't feel so superior to a guy who named his sword "whatever." 

(I'm suddenly remembering a plush lamb I had as a child, whose eyes were orange, that I named "orange eyes.") (I, however, was three. And I had a lot of plush lambs. Little ones. Grown-ups found it hilarious to give them to me.) (Native speakers of English can probably guess what OP's real name is. Hint: it rhymes with Canary.) (Everybody else: there is a kid's rhyming song called Mary Had A Little Lamb. OP's name is Mary.)

Anyhoo, after Lan Wangji is finally finished with his dramatic entrance, Jiang Cheng comes flying in from wherever he's been hovering for the past 20 minutes of stair time. A bunch of Lan sidekicks also flood into the frame from wherever they were hiding during the wide shots of LWJ on the staircase.

In case you hope that CQL Lan Wangji is as much of a top (offscreen) as MZDS Lan Wangji is (on the page), here's a gif for you.

(more after the cut)

He uses the patented Lan string attack to choke this guard.  Lan Wangji doesn't have to hold a guqin string in his hands to choke someone with it. He doesn't even have to tighten it, judging by how absurdly not-tight this string is.

Or maybe this guy is choking on the chin strap of his helmet. This is exactly how OP's son reacts when OP sticks a bike helmet on him. (Note: it's GOOD that they are following choking safety protocols on set. Very good. However, they could have just left the string out and pretended, and it would look better, in this instance)

The Wen guard tells Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng about the whole "thrown into the burial mounds" thing.  Team Let's Find Wei Wuxian is not happy to hear this.

A Vengeful Ghost

Meanwhile, in some Wen office somewhere? Where the hell is this? Yiling, we get an ominous shot of the rooftops where Wei Wuxian is lurking and then we see Wang Lingjiao trying to sleep and having a nightmare.

Wang Lingjiao has gone to sleep with a full face of makeup on instead of washing her face before bed. She has forgotten the important maxim, Go To Sleep Pretty, Wake Up Zitty.

She leaps out of bed to go cling to Wen Chao and freak out about Wei Wuxian's ghost. Wen Chao is trying to read the sports section and has clearly had enough of this crap. This has presumably been going on for a little while now.

Wang Lingjiao is in a new outfit, which is...pajamas? It has the feel of a 1930's French peignoir set, and it's much more softly colored than her usual bright red-purple combo. If this is her pajamas is it weird that her day clothes are a lot more aggressively sexy-looking than her nightgown? A freak in the streets but a lady in the sheets.

Wen Chao rants about the Sunshot Campaign and talks some smack about Wen Qing, and then leaves to go to the bar and watch the game with Wen Zhuliu. After he leaves Wang Lingjiao freaks out for a bit and then looks at the notice he was reading.

The notice basically says that the Sunshot Campaign is kicking their ass. She should be proud for inspiring the name of the campaign with that kite-shooting bullshit she made up at Lotus Pier. Before slaughtering everyone.

No Matter What You Do, I Only Want To Be With You

Back at the Indoctrination Tower, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are having feelings about Wei Wuxian. Jiang Chang does all the talking but Lan Wangji's thoughts are louder because a sad violin is playing Wangxian while they talk.

Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji about their meetup plan and says he thought WWX had dumped him to go find Lan Wangji in Lanling. Lan Wangji telepathically indicates that this didn’t happen. This means two things: 1. Lan Wangji has been hanging out in Lanling, where Jiang Yanli has been hanging out, so maybe they have bonded over the past 3 months and 2. This is the first time Jiang Cheng has talked to Lan Wangji since Wei Wuxian disappeared. 

Much as my fic-loving heart would like to believe these two spent three months on the road together looking for Wei Wuxian, in fact they are both important high-level fighters in an active military campaign, and Lan Wangji was busy taking back the Cloud Recesses while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were having elective surgery. They probably both were assigned to the "Indoctrination Bureau" mission and this is the first chance they've had to talk about Wei Wuxian.

Is it heartbreaking that, while Wei Wuxian was helplessly getting his ass beat because he'd sacrificed his golden core for Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng believed Wei Wuxian had abandoned him for Lan Wangji? Yes. Yes it is.

For some reason Jiang Cheng is hesitant to believe that Wei Wuxian really was thrown into the Burial Mounds. I mean, I understand not wanting to believe Wei Wuxian is dead, but given that Wen Chao is the dude who oversaw the massacre of all of the people at Lotus Pier, including kids, why would Jiang Cheng think his guards are wrong? Maybe he just feels like Wei Wuxian is invincible, since so far he kinda has been. 

The Sword is Mightier Than Not Having a Sword

While they've been chatting, the Lan disciples have found their swords. One disciple is holding Bichen (LWJ's sword), Sandu (JC's sword), and OP consults wiki Suihua (Jin Zixuan's sword). Another disciple is holding Subian (WWX's sword).  

Jiang Cheng grabs Sandu while the Lan disciples, who apparently know their gongzi’s heart, offer Wei Wuxian's sword to Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji takes Subian (Bichen: What am I, chopped watercress?) and immediately tries to draw it. Like you don't do. It's sealed itself, which apparently means that it's upset. It's unclear if it's upset because Wei Wuxian is dead or if it just misses him, however.  

Lan Wangji definitely misses him, and wonders, out loud inside his own head, where Wei Wuxian is. Um, he's in the Burial Mounds, dude, they just told you. Well, I guess he's actually in Yiling proper at this point, haunting Wang Lingjiao as he promised her he would.

Twa Corbies

The scene shifts to Qinghe, where there are about 12 dead bodies lying around, which in this show means that there are really a few hundred. In fact, per Jiang Yanli's statement "nothing can be seen but corpses covering the plains." The camera can't see most of them, is all.

Wen Xu's head is hanging in the doorway, and the Jins talk about how Nie Mingjue killed him, cutting his head off with just one swing. Is this foreshadowing anything, like perhaps someone else's head being cut off by Baxia in just one swing? Nope, definitely not.

A couple of crows are perched on a body, totally not eating it, but Jin Zixuan gallantly zaps them with a talisman to make them fly away anyway.  It might be noteworthy that nobody used to use talismans but gradually more and more people are using them - particularly people who have spent time with Wei Wuxian.

With mony a lock of his golden hair-o, we’ll theek our nest when it grows bare-o

Asshole cousin Jin Zixun says “scavenger rights,” so Jin Zixuan puts him in charge of collecting all the bodies. 

Since OP just finished watching fur-collar-happy Nirvana in Fire, these crows look to me like they are wearing luxurious fur collars. Where OP lives, crows are not this fancy. 

A Romantic Corpse-Filled Interlude

Disaster het Jin Zixuan goes to help Jiang Yanli get out of the carriage but she rejects his hand just like he rejected hers back in Gusu.

Jiang Yanli is extremely shocked when she sees Wen Xu's severed head, and turns away in horror, preferring to calmly rest her eyes on dozens of crow-pecked corpses.

Jin Zixuan tries to comfort her and she tells him she'll be going now, thanks for the hospitality. He tries to say that he has to personally deliver her to a representative of the patriarchy one of her brothers, but then one of her brothers shows up.

Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng arrive, having presumably flown there from Qishan. They show that they are flying by blowing a fan on the ground and then jumping off of a box, which is better than the effects we were subjected to earlier in the episode.

Jiang Cheng rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Jiang Yanli, while Lan Wangji rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Wen Xu’s severed head. Jin Zixuan kind of spoils it for him by talking about Wei Wuxian's absence while Lan Wangji is trying to have a moment.

The whole time Jin Zixuan is talking to him, Lan Wangji appears to be gazing into the middle distance but in fact he is staring at Wen Xu's severed head. This is the guy who led the burning of Cloud Recesses, killed a bunch of disciples, and personally broke Lan Wangji's leg. Lan Wangji stares at his head for more than a full minute before glancing away.

Jiang Yanli hasn't seen Jiang Cheng since they were in Wen Qing's clinic, and she is happy he's recovered. When she asks about Wei Wuxian he gives her the bad news in the classic Jiang fashion, which is to say nothing, but look stricken until your interlocutor figures out that something is horribly wrong, but not precisely what.

Four Angry Men

Inside the fortress, Nie Mingjue is slapping the table and saying, this bad boy can hold so much resentment and vengeance. They're having a mini war council and we're getting a better sense of Nie Mingjue's anger management problem. Note for those who don't get the gif reference: this is a The Godfather joke, not a sex joke, but it can be both, if you like.

We're also getting a little more info about Baxia, who seems to be eager to go fight even without anyone wielding it. (Her? Him? Them? do swords have gender? I don't know). Well done, person below the camera frame whose job is to rattle Baxia in a menacing manner.

They've got a giant model of the battle targets, which looks like it was carved out of real rock (I mean, as much as any of the rocks on this show look like real rocks) and has its own table and everything, decorated in Nie colors. Where was this before they took Qinghe back? Has Nie Mingjue been traveling with it? 

Anyway, I'm assuming Nie Huaisang made it, because it's pretty nice. Hopefully they will keep it around for tabletop gaming after the war is over.

Jiang Cheng is upset but is using his anger management mantra to help control his temper while Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji talk with Nie Mingjue. 

Lan Wangji talks by leaning forward meaningfully, mostly not by using any words, but he asks for a battle assignment and Jiang Cheng immediately joins in. They both want to go find Wei Wuxian. 

Nie Mingjue says Yiling is too difficult of a target, but Lan Wangji puts on his determined face, which is apparently very persuasive.  

After Team Find Wei Wuxian leaves, Nie Mingjue asks Jin Zixuan to hang back so he can ask him how Meng Yao is doing. This is the first time he finds out that his ex didn't go to Lanling. Jin Zixuan tries to delicately remind him that Dad's got, like, SO many bastard children, they really don't have space for all of them. Nie Mingjue dismisses him immediately and abruptly. 

Nie Mingjue might invite the straights to his party but he isn't interested in actually socializing with them.

Unconditional Soup is Only for A-Xian

Jiang Cheng can't sleep, and takes some time, now, to be sad about Wei Wuxian. Presumably he spent the prior 3 months being mad, not sad, because he really thought he just buggered off without saying anything for all that time. Which is sort of fair, but sort of not. One thing about these two bros is that for as close as they have been and as much as they love each other, their mutual understanding has some big, messy gaps.

Fortunately while he is feeling sad, Jiang Cheng does not try to draw Subian from its sheath, because wouldn't THAT be awkward.

Jiang Yanli can't sleep either, and comes to sit with him. Jiang Cheng feels bad that she's wearing herself out with worry and she says "As your sister, I have nothing to do but to worry about you." Jiang Yanli isn't one to complain but she doesn't like being inactive or helpless. In Lanling she was far from the war, but now that she's in Qinghe she'll make herself useful by tending the wounded, and later she'll help Jiang Cheng shoulder his responsibilities as he takes over the Jiang clan.

At the moment, however, all she can do is fret and make soup. As she gives Jiang Cheng a bowlful she reminds him that he absolutely has to rescue their brother who has, according to his captors, been reduced to bone dust.

With all the impossible shit that Jiang Cheng is expected to achieve - and in many instances, does achieve - he is absolutely the embodiment of the Jiang Clan's motto. Fuck his father for disrespecting him because he hadn't figured out how to do everything by the age of 16.

Definitely Not Chilling in Yiling

Back in Yiling, Wen Chao is hearing the news that the Qishan Indoctrination Bureau has fallen and that he's being called back to Nightless City. Wen Chao says he shouldn't need to go back because his dad has a new right-hand man. That new right-hand man, we will eventually learn, is Meng Yao. Wang Lingjiao, meanwhile, is hiding under the bed covers and deciding it's time to dump Wen Chao.

She locks the door and goes to pull out her jewelry box, which is locked and hidden under the bed. Maybe this is Wen Chao's jewelry box, because she acts kind of squirrely about opening it. Upon opening the jewelry box, she doesn't find jewelry but a pair of bloody fake eyeballs staring at her.  She screams and freaks out and then the wind picks up and we hear the sound of a flute, playing the "I'm here to fuck your shit up" tune that Wei Wuxian likes.

Wang Lingjiao runs to the door and pulls down the protection talisman that's pasted above it, and pastes it directly to her chest instead, which is, we will learn in the next episode, the worst idea she could possibly have at this point.

Then she uses a poking stick to go flip the jewelry box open and finds it's full of ugly-ass jewelry again, plus an improbable number of weird round paper-mache biscuits that have been painted gold. None of this jewelry looks anything like the exquisite accessories people wear in this show, which means this stash was put together by the practical effects department, not by the costume department.

Anyway, Wang Lingjiao apparently thinks she can sell this fakeass stuff for a good price, so more power to her. But then we get a short glimpse of the menacing eyeballs again, this time on the floor, having moved out of the box and brought their little blood pool with them. Screeching ensues.

Next episode: Lady in Red!

Soundtrack: Twa Corbies, by Steeleye Span

[queerbrujas]

then it vanished away from my hands (part two)

pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro word count: 3.6k for this chapter (6.1k total so far) rating: T warnings: same as before, lots of angst and this won’t have a happy ending

part one | part three | read on ao3

The mutation in her blood was not known to inhibit physical abilities. None of the studies had indicated even the slightest possibility of immunity to vampire venom.

once again thanks to @crowsintheisland for the text post that inspired this entire fic—and uh, i’m sorry?

—

part two: everything that’s under my skin

The transition can last anywhere from twenty minutes to several hours.

The exact duration is impossible to predict with certainty, as is the intensity of the pain she will endure, or the extent of the physical transformation.

(She has now heard all about Nate’s, how extreme it was—the worst the Agency has known since its establishment.

But things are easier now than they were three centuries ago, in the middle of the ocean, with… with everything that happened to him.

Things are easier.

There are substances that can dull the pain, if not counter it entirely. There are measures in place to make this go as smoothly as it possibly can. She will not have to suffer like he did.

Not least of all because she is choosing this.

That is a difference.)

Once the transition is complete and deemed successful, she will, in all likelihood, pass out from exhaustion. Nearly everyone does.

(Nearly everyone, of the ones who survive.)

She will then stay at the facility overnight, under observation until her condition becomes stable.

In addition to any of the common complications that might arise from the process itself, she will be monitored for out of control, violent tendencies upon reawakening (this is not a rare occurrence among the newly turned, she has been told), or for any unexpected reactions her blood might have to the vampire venom.

This will be the most difficult, painful period. Anything that touches her skin will feel like sandpaper. The slightest sound will be too loud.

There will be screaming. Thrashing. She will want to tear her skin apart and climb out of her body.

(A body she may or may not recognize anymore.)

This is expected.

And there will be the hunger. She will have to learn to live with this. Control it.

Over the next few days, her senses will stabilize. It will still be painful, and it will take much longer to learn to dampen them if she so chooses—but she will learn to function despite the pain. It will be a dull, constant ache she will grow used to.

She will then be reintroduced to people other than Agency medical staff.

Nate will be first. His presence is likely to be the only one she will be able to tolerate at this point.

(He will not be allowed to see her before this. This is for the best.)

Then the others.

Morgan.

Adam.

Farah.

In that order.

Then Rebecca.

(Because she is Agent Rebecca Navarro, the handler of Unit Bravo. Not because she is Rebecca-comma-her-mother.)

Her first feeding will be supervised, once again, by specialized staff.

It will not be human blood, not the first time.

Human blood is too intense, too flavorful, and it risks overwhelming her already fragile senses. It will give better results for her to work her way up to it over a period of time.

(She wonders who was the first to arrive at this conclusion, and how they had done so, but this has been Agency policy for at least a hundred years.)

Then, later, there will be tests.

Her blood will be studied again, analyzed for the way its unique composition might have changed or been influenced by the turning process. To assess if it retains any of its special properties, or if it is now indistinguishable from that of a regular vampire.

Eventually, she will be allowed to leave the Facility, and move back to the Warehouse.

She will meet with the fae counselor again. Twice a week, at first, then once weekly. This will continue for the next few months.

Once they deem it appropriate, she will be cleared to go on missions again.

Things will continue as normal.

With Eva finally, fully, a part of this world she has had a foot in for years now.

—

These are the things Eva had been prepared for.

The things she had researched, been informed of, agreed to. This is how things were supposed to go.

(Everything had been outlined in the paperwork she had signed, laid out for her in meetings and sessions the minute she had formally expressed her wish to turn.)

These are not the things that happened.

What did happen is something that has never, for as long as the Agency has had records (and the Agency has records dating back a very, very long time), happened before.

Failed supernatural turnings happen all the time, even under the supervision of the Agency.

Bad reactions to the venom, to the bite. People who are not strong enough, physically or mentally or emotionally.

People who are simply unlucky. It happens.

The strain of the process has claimed many lives.

The Agency tries to minimize the risk with all their prior assessments, but the odds are still not, never, favorable ones.

Eva knows this—this is what she agreed to.

In the end, it was a simple matter of probability—a 50%, 60%, 70% chance of death was always better than the eventual 100%.

(Always better than the knowledge that she would eventually waste away, and that her family—that Nate, her Nate—would have to watch. That she would have to see the already very obvious gap between them grow wider and wider with each passing year.)

It was the only thing that mattered that she had a chance, rather than none at all.

All or nothing.

This is what she agreed to.

But it has never happened before, for as long as the Agency has records, that the bite of a vampire, with the intent and the ability to turn, has absolutely no effect on the person who receives it.

No transformation.

No pain.

Nothing.

Eva’s blood has been studied in as much depth, its properties determined with as much precision and certainty, as the Agency’s technology and reagents have allowed.

The results have been—had been—deemed conclusive.

She was found to be immune to pheromones of all types, siren song, aura reading, precognition, tracking abilities, mood amplifiers.

All of this she has experienced firsthand during missions.

She is not immune to toxins, poisons, spores, paralyzing agents, venoms, or magically inflicted conditions.

This she has also experienced firsthand.

The mutation in her blood was not known to inhibit physical abilities. None of the studies had indicated even the slightest possibility of immunity to vampire venom.

And yet.

And yet. Here she is.

A still-bleeding bite on her neck.

Still human.

—

That night, she does not sleep.

She stays at the facility overnight, as she was meant to.

For very different reasons than she was meant to.

No one knows how to react to what has happened, Eva least of all, so she does the only thing she can trust herself to do: try to find an explanation, a solution.

Something that will allow her to move forward.

The medical staff is just as bewildered as she is, almost as eager to find out why it didn’t work.

There are more tests.

There will need to be more tests, later.

More studies, things they had measured before that will need to be measured again.

Her blood is drawn, sent for quick analysis.

There is no trace of venom in it.

It shouldn’t have disappeared so quickly. It shouldn’t have disappeared at all.

It makes no sense.

—

Nate is as panicked as she is forcing herself not to be.

(He has never done well under stress. This, too, has not changed.)

There is that tightness to his mouth, that slightly more forceful way he shoves his hands in his pockets.

It is so easy to revert to old habits. Especially ones that are hundreds of years old.

He tells her she should sleep, tells her they can work this out in the morning.

(Tries to soothe her when all she wants is to solve this.)

This was not part of the plan. Her hands are shaking.

Nate takes them in his—unsteady as he is right now, the contact helps. It always does.

He is probably right: it makes no difference to have the tests carried out at three or eight in the morning. But it is about the feeling of activity as much as it is about activity itself, and if she stands still she might go mad.

Too often she falls into action as a replacement for feeling.

It is so easy to revert to old habits. Even if they are not hundreds of years old.

She takes a deep breath. Lets Nate’s proximity ease her a little.

Nate is right.

She will—they will—figure this out.

It will work out.

It has to.

—

Over the following weeks, once the initial wave of panic subsides, Eva falls into a routine.

She does not have obligations to the station or to Wayhaven anymore, so she dedicates herself entirely to the Agency.

Unit Bravo is still sent on missions. She is still expected to take part in them, as she was before.

Her life at the Warehouse continues much the same as it was. With Nate, with the others.

She has always been good at compartmentalizing.

Every moment she does not spend with them, however, is now spent at the Facility, in the lab, meeting with doctors and scientists.

She doubles down on the research she had already begun to specialize in: supernatural biology was always going to be her field of study, a chance to put her skills and previous knowledge to far, far more use than she had ever managed as an officer, as a detective. From the moment the Agency started to trust her she had requested to be kept up to date on findings and developments, had requested permission to be included in research programs—to varying levels of success—and spent much of her free time studying what was already known.

(There had been many long, comfortable evenings spent with Nate in his library, reading treatises and books she still couldn’t believe ever made it to regular, human publication. He’d laughed softly when she’d brought that up, once, as she lay on the couch with her head resting on his lap.

“I mean it,” she said, sitting up with a half-laugh of her own. She’d been reading a tome from the early 20th century that detailed the regeneration abilities of phoenixes. “How did anyone take this seriously enough to publish?” She turned the book to look at the cover again. “And this was a regular publishing house.”

That, in turn, led to a fascinating conversation about humans’ tendency to ignore anything that disrupted their worldview too much, and the extent to which the Agency had in fact been connected to that “regular publishing house”, and how Nate knew the person responsible for the publication of that specific book.

The amount of actual studying she managed during those evenings always varied.)

Her newly acquired clearance now grants her access to tests and studies that she can sign off on herself, that she doesn’t need to request from Rebecca (or from anyone) with the hope that they’ll be approved.

Old habits come back, forgotten from her days at university, from a different life. She finds herself slipping into the same rhythm she had been so comfortable with, once—but there is a strange calmness to it even underneath her fevered, focused drive; something soothing about losing herself in slides and results and research.

This is what she had wanted, years ago, before the police, before Bobby. This is exactly what she had wanted.

She has so much of what she had always wanted.

And yet underneath that feeling, there is something else that is slowly, very slowly growing.

Very slowly taking root.

She does not look at it.

She does not think about it.

(Please don’t let it be taken away.)

She does not think about it.

She keeps herself busy.

—

When the Agency clears it, she contacts Verda again.

Eva knows he still has the blood test results from the Murphy case, from Janet Greenland. His research led nowhere, but it remained untouched.

He’s happy to hear from her—asks about her new job. She tells him she’s working in a lab that would make him jealous, would make even the City people jealous. She makes a joke about the Agency’s budget; he laughs.

It’s so easy.

(She is glad to hear his voice, and she asks with genuine interest about Eric and Cara and Lacey—they are doing wonderfully; little Lacey just had her birthday—but it is still so, so easy to lie.)

It is just as easy to convince him to send her his findings. The Agency, it turns out, is a wonderful excuse for pretty much anything, and he is all too happy to help her.

It ends up being yet another dead end. Janet Greenland’s blood had the same properties as her own, and Verda’s analyses say far less than the Agency’s.

There is nothing new in them, nothing Eva didn’t already know.

Another closed door.

(And that feeling is still there. Roots and vines spreading within her.)

—

It has been months.

She is no closer to finding a solution now than she was then: every door closes as soon as it opens. There had been another attempt—a different vampire, an Agency representative she didn’t know—it didn’t matter, it still didn’t work.

There have been tests and studies and even the possibility of turning into a different kind of supernatural—nothing, nothing. Nothing seems to lead anywhere.

It has been months, and she is too aware, too painfully aware in a way that she can’t ignore that months easily turn into years and she is not thirty years old anymore, has not been for a while.

It has been months and the roots and vines that grow within her have taken hold, have reached her throat. That thought is still there, that feeling.

She wakes up in the middle of the night and she can’t breathe.

It takes a terrifying, delirious moment to realize she is in her room—

(in their room, hers and Nate’s, their room in the Warehouse)

(and she’s not sure what she was dreaming except that she is left with that feeling of being on the edge of an abyss, of being about to fall)

—and Nate is there, he is always there, warm hands and strong arms and he is holding her against him, whispering into her ear—in languages she does not know but which have become familiar to her because they are his—until she can breathe again.

He whispers to her in Spanish, too, and in the middle of the night, lost as she feels, it hurts.

Hurts in the full, aching way his love has always hurt, in the way that makes the unshed tears of years past want to finally fall.

They don’t.

She blinks them away, buries her face in the crook of his neck.

“Jaan, love,” he says later, later, after her breathing has settled. His voice is all concern, all sweet care, spoken against her hair. “Sleep.”

He knows he won’t get her to talk, not when she is like this. He has learned her moods and her disposition, knows them better than she herself does. But she hasn’t slept through a night in weeks, and the worry in his voice mirrors the way his hands trace shapes on her skin, warm, soothing.

She doesn’t respond.

“I will figure this out,” she says instead. I have to, she doesn’t say.

She doesn’t look at him.

She’s not sure, really, if she’s saying it to Nate or if she’s saying it to herself.

He draws back, puts the smallest amount of space between them. Hooks a finger under her chin, tilts her head up so she can meet his eyes.

God, those eyes.

Those eyes have always been her undoing.

The purest, darkest brown (and she can’t see well enough now in the low light of their room, but she doesn’t need to, she knows them by heart, could bring them to mind at any moment—there is an even darker ring around the iris, long dark lashes framing them), warm and blazing in a way that stirs her alive.

“Eva,” he says, simply (and yet not, because there is nothing simple about her name in his mouth). It pulls her back from her thoughts, as it always has, as it always does.

(It’s in the way he says it. He has always said it the way it’s meant to be said, the way very few people in her life ever have. The subtle inflections of his accent shape themselves around it instead of forcing it into a different sound and those two syllables have never sounded so right as they do when he says them.

The name of a person you love is more than language. She’s not sure where it’s from. He quoted it to her once.

I summon you back by saying your nombre. This one she knows. It stings, in that same full, beautiful way.)

It’s too much.

His eyes and her name and his voice and his arms and the warmth of him around her and the vines in her throat. Too close. Too close.

Too much.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Her voice cracks. She hates that it does.

Nate blinks, once, twice, before his frown deepens with even more concern and even more love and even more care.

Those are not words heard from her often or even at all. I apologize, if she needs to, if she feels it is warranted—reparations and actions but not this. Never this.

“What for, my love?”

I don’t know.

I’m sorry I’m falling apart.

I’m sorry I’m breaking down.

I’m sorry this is such a mess and I’m sorry I’m getting overwhelmed and I’m sorry I don’t know what to do and and and

Everything in her wants to push the words down.

So she drags them out of her throat.

Painful, painful, it has always been painful (it will never not be painful; her heart was not made for this) but it is pain she embraces, pain that comes from love and from feeling.

She would not, could not hide anything from him. Even if it means giving voice to that one thought that she has refused, refused to look at ever since she felt it make its home there.

Voicing it gives it shape.

Giving it shape makes it something that needs to be confronted.

(“I’ve cracked myself open for you and nothing has ever given me such pleasure,” she wrote once—it seems so long ago—in a letter she meant to give to him but never did. Finding the words, looking at the parts of herself that she hated—she wouldn’t have had a reason to do it were it not for the fact that she wanted him to know all of her.)

“I’m scared, Nate—I don’t know what to do, I’m fucking terrified. What if it doesn’t—what if I can’t—”

And she is sobbing now, words half-formed, tumbling out with the fear acknowledged.

And she knows he doesn’t want to hear this, she knows, it took so long to even have this conversation in the first place and it only happened because she’d been the one to push for it—

Nate holds her, and lets her cry.

“Whatever happens, you have me. You will always have me, I promise,” is the last thing she hears before she falls asleep again, exhausted, drained.

(She thinks he might be crying, too.)

—

Things are different, after that.

She feels—fragile.

Unmoored.

—

Finally, finally, the answer comes.

The results of those initial tests, the ones from years ago, the ones before Murphy—they provide the key.

It is not the mutation in her blood that is preventing the venom from working.

Her blood would, should be able to react to it.

Except—

Except that because of what Murphy did to her, half her blood is supernatural. Half the blood in her veins is vampire blood.

Only half.

Only the blood.

Her DNA remains unaltered, purely and uniquely human, but it's enough.

Enough for the venom to be absorbed without any effect or consequence, because vampire venom does not react with vampire blood.

Because supernaturals can't be turned into other supernaturals.

It’s conclusive, this time, (and trying to undo it would kill her, with such certainty that it is not even something that can be considered at all), and what a fucking joke it is—she would laugh if she weren’t so stunned, isn’t sure she doesn’t—she can never not be human because her body thinks it's already something else.

—

That feeling of dread that grew steadily with every closed door, with every negative result—it claws up her throat now. Spills out, nothing containing it anymore.

It was only a matter of time.

Her hands shake as she turns the key in the lock (and she catches a glimpse of the scar on her wrist and she almost screams) and she is fucking glad she kept the apartment in Wayhaven, now, as she shuts the door behind her and collapses to the floor, a wailing sound like a wounded animal's leaving her—

And then she is crying, sobbing on the floor of an empty apartment she hasn't been to in god knows how long, the palms of her hands pressed hard against her eyelids and still her mind is trying, trying, desperately reaching for any kind of solution, anything that will let her hold on to hope for just a little longer—

But there isn't one.

She knows there isn’t one and she can’t look away from it anymore.

Her whole life she has always found a way forward, a way out of everything; things have always worked out in the end, but this, this, this one time—

This one thing—

She can never be their equal.

This one thing that she wants—

That abyss between them that she had thought possible to bridge, had not thought she could not bridge will do nothing but grow wider and wider and wider until—

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

What the fuck happens now?

How does she—?

Fuck.

[threemothsinsweaters]

A list of unusual quirk ideas!

Alright, so I have been collecting unusual quirk ideas for around half a year now - maybe a few months more Now, I’m ready to share the list with the world in case anyone ever needs any inspiration for their fanfics, be it for background characters of fics or maybe used for actual ocs 

All of those ideas are free to use without any credit or anything, but I would appreciate reblogs! ^-^

(If any of them repeat or are written wrongly then I’m sorry, I will try to fix that and edit the post every time I come up with new ideas)

1.Density control

2.Liquid multiplier

3.Heat-level vision

4.Creating objects out of light

5.Radiation

6.Super hearing

7.Entering/moving through electronics

8.Cursing objects

9.Transporting through mirrors

10.Speaking any language

11.Super strength, speed and healing but lost of self-control

12.Wild magic - giving random effects

13.Being able to determine worth of any object by touching it

14.Being able to irritate and annoy someone just by existing

15.Memory manipulation

16.Giving people a disease 

17.Being immune to any sickness

18.Compass - always knows where they are

19.Silence - make someone deaf momentarily

20.Medical intuition - knows what's wrong with the person hurt immediately

21.Never leaves a trail behind, untraceable

22.Reflection - can reflect powers of others at them

23.Survival instincts

24.Changing flesh into plants

25.Perfect imitation of animal noises

26.Killer instincts 

27.Ultimate stamina - can keep going for many hours without the need to take a break

28.Entering people’s dreams

29.Best liar - all lies sound like truth and the person is immune to lie detectors and truth serums

30.Crazy but smart - can come up with a solution to any problem, but the solution is always extremely dangerous and straight-up crazy

31. Making people itchy

32.Doesn’t need oxygen/doesn’t need to breathe to survive

33.Instant artist - able to draw anything with perfect photo-like accuracy extremely fast

34.Emotionless - can turn off feeling emotions 

35.Making all weapons they use stronger

36.Selective hearing - can hear things they want to and completely tune out anything else, even if it's louder than what they want to hear

37.Use senses of animals that are near (see through their eyes, hear what they hear)

38.Turn liquids solid by touch

39.Slow motion vision

40.Voice changer - can change their voice completely

41.Producing huge amounts of energy constantly

42.Draining energy from surrounding them people

43.Improved ability to track down anyone if there’s any scent/hints to follow

44.Perfect aim

45.Hyper-aware of their surroundings

46.Able to operate any vehicle 

47.Able to use any weapon

48.Can confuse people using words

49.Insomnia - they don’t need to sleep and suffer no bad effects from it

50.Ability to feel emotions of others

51.Can see true intentions of anyone they look at

52.Learning a history of an object by touching it

53.Emotion manipulation

54.Ability to eat anything without any bad effects

55.Astral projection - ability to leave the body as a “spirit”

56.Echolocation

57.Ability to overload someone’s mind causing pain, headaches, memory loss

58.Ability to locate any thing they touched in past 24 hours

59.Temporary merging two beings together

60. Pheromone manipulation

61. Skin expansion - creating more skin

62. Bubbles - turning all liquid touched into foam

63. Double jaw like an eel

64. Becoming someone’s shadow and following them around

65. Blood can work like drugs

66. No photos - being blurry on all photographs and in people’s memories

67. Fusion - can fuse with certain objects for short amounts of time

68. Crocodile tears - ability to cry many different choosen liquids and cry whenever they want to (could work well to make people believe their story and stuff)

69. Writing just by touching the paper and thinking about what they want to be written

70. Multi-eyes - let’s the person open “eyes” on any part of their body and see through them

71. Silence - can make everyone around them unable to talk or make any sounds at all

72. Detachable limbs

73. Control of the temperature of air around them

74. Elastic bones

75. Turning into a swarm of insects

76. Ability to sound really convincing

77. Ability to create huge amounts of glitter and sparkling lights out of their hands

78. Fast learner - very fast learner, being able to do a lot of things on the first or second try

79. Ability to shrink things

80. Ability to control all of their body functions fully consciously (hunger, heart-beat, blood flow etc)

81. Ability to change someone’s eyesight/eye structure 

82. Waking up with a completely different temporary ability every time after they go to sleep

83. Control of the growing of nails 84. Control over hair fibers

85. Boiling any liquid with touch

86. Copying any handwriting 

87. Superpower making them unable to die from falling off heights

88. Undestroyable bones

89. Changing the humidity of things/air

90. Skin has the properties of a nettle

91. Ability to lay eggs

92. Ability to make things expire instantly

93. Extended lungs

94. Changing the taste of things  

95. Changing the smell of things

96. Changing colors of things

97. Hibernation - the ability to sleep for really long amounts of time without the need to eat, drink, go to the bathroom or anything in between. 

98. Ability to know people’s worst fears/phobias

99. Ability to copy objects and multiply them

100. Spine extension - having more discs in the spine so the spine is more flexible

101. Ability to know when someone is thinking about them

102. Ability to know if a living being or a human is near them at the moment

103. Ability to know someone’s age instantly 

104. Ability to swap the probability of things happening if the probability is higher than 1% (if something has the 20% chance of happening, swapping it would make 80% - if something has 0.1% of happening the power cannot be used on it. The power, however, does not let the person using it know what the probability of certain things is

105. Ability to make your parents proud

106. Ability to make people sing instead of talking

107. Knowing the phone number of literally everyone they want

108. Real life filters - ability to make things look much nicer than they actually are

109. Ability to predict the exact probability of something happening

110. Immortal soul but mortal body - soul can enter the body even if it’s not actually functioning anymore, body can be “repaired” so it doesn’t fully fall apart

111. Ability to make images/holograms out of smoke (controlling its shape and turning it into images)

112. Ability to make people misspell words and stutter uncontrollably

113. Ability to make all insects around them drop dead instantly

114. Ability to change the direction in which things are moving

115. Eliminating or absorbing light

116.Turning off body functions without actually dying (or at least permanently - mind also still works)

117. Hearing every word someone said in past 24 hours

118. Shift person’s attention at will

119. Activate/deactivate adrenaline at will

120. Blur person’s logical thinking, making them less reasonable

121. Infinite patience

122. Loosen the tension in the air

123. Ability to bite through everything

124. Friction control 

125. Evolution mutation - body changes to adapt to certain situations

126. Ability to generate darkness/make shadows even if there’s strong light

127. Ability to make people see the mistakes they made

128. Ability to change into objects

129. Ability to create spiders that crawl out of the mouth of the person with the power

130. Ability to find the weak points of things

131. Extremely good sense of balance

132. Extra fast reading

133. Ability to make anything they touch glow

134. Becoming indestructible for a few minutes after receiving a fatal injury which could kill them

135. Ability to temporarily turn animals into monsters

136. Ability to sing any song no matter the language nor the difficulty as long as they heard it at least once

137. Fungus - 5 finger contact makes area around the hand grow with many different kinds of fungus, mostly mold but over extended contact bigger mushrooms grow as well

138. Marble statue - ability to turn into a statue without the need to eat/drink/sleep for long amounts of time, but the body structure is pretty weak

139. Ability to make someone allergic to certain things for short amount of time

140. Ability to make things poisonous with touch

141. Everything is cake - ability to make things they touch cake

142. Sharp air - ability to turn air into invisible knives that dissolve the moment they let go of them

143. Cockroach - ability to turn smaller by compressing the mass and turning it into strength, making the user indestructible while in small form

144. Ability to make people trip

145. Ability to make their hands have magnetic effect 

146. Ability to make things spin (even air or water)

147. Ability to know what material something is made out of

148. Ability to make most surfaces reflective

149. Ability to make things half-transparent 

150. Ability to stick things together

151. Ability to make things grow fur

[arsenicpanda]

So, I was tagged by the lovely @sullypants for this meme, like, two weeks ago, but I’m really bad at perceiving and measuring time, so I’m doing it now instead orz.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Five, one of which is a literal drabble, an exact 100 words, and ymmv on whether it should be its own fic.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

23,447, which is way more than I expected and and like almost a third of which is just chapter three of (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend.

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

So, like, back in the day, I wrote self-insert Sailor Moon fanfiction (I know, I know), but the only stuff that’s still up is Final Fantasy VII fic (including one on FFN that hasn’t been taken down solely because someone favorited it and, as someone who always gets bummed when a favorite fic vanishes, it’s forever up as a result) and Riverdale fic.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Broseph, I only have five fics up on AO3, but here’s the order anyway, from most to least:

(day)dreams can come true

wet dreams may come

(ain't it good to know) you've got a friend

Cancelled Plans

The Looming Fog and Other Strange Happenings

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my best to, but, uh, I’m not great at it in terms of timeliness (I’ve certainly got some that have been sitting waiting for a response for months, and I’ll get to them eventually, I promise).  I’d like to think I’m pretty good at responding with substance though, when I finally get around to it.  Like, if you name a specific part you like, I will give you too much insight into that part.

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

Well, (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend was originally going to have a very angsty ending, but a.) I changed that after a discussion with my friend and b.) it’s not finished anyway lol.  So, I guess wet dreams may come?  Like, I end it with a reference to that scene in End of Evangelion (because I had the opportunity for a parallel and it also shows Jughead’s opinion of himself, even though his actions are harmless, whereas Shinji’s...well.), and that’s pretty angsty, yeah?

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

I mean, only three of them have endings, so (day)dreams come true, probably, because its ending is just very sweet (the third fic with an ending, Cancelled Plans, has a comedic end, so it doesn’t really qualify in the first place).

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Not normally, but I have written a mashup with the Lovecraft mythos, specifically as seen in the Arkham Horror boardgame; it’s The Looming Fog and Other Strange Happenings, and it is by default the craziest one I’ve written.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.  I fly pretty under the radar.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yup.  When you include incomplete/unpublished stuff, probably like 40-50% of stuff I write will contain some kind of smut because I find it sexy, fun, and intimate, and I’d say it’s...explicit?  I’m prone to writing dirty talk, mainly, because I will forever love writing dialogue and think in terms of it; also, the fics I’ve published (and like two other incomplete fics that haven’t been published) skirt around portraying the actual act of sex from the POV of the ones having sex.  Idk, that part’s really hard for me (no pun intended).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, and I probably never will because I’m bad at finishing things, and I wouldn’t want to have the pressure/guilt of working with another person and dragging down the completion of the fic.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Lelouch/Shirley from Code Geass, 10000% THE otp, closely followed by Izaya/Namie from Durarara!!.

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

I’d really love to finish both my WIPs, but, uh, I doubt that will ever happen (I’m still completely stuck on the chapters that need finishing, and it doesn’t help that I have other fics taking up more space in my brain).

What’s your writing strengths?

I like to think I’m good at dialogue because I generally think in dialouge, but ymmv.

What’s your writing weaknesses?

Description and introspection, tbh, basically anything other than dialogue.  It’s just not how I think, so it often is something I have to fill in.  I generally have a solid picture in my head of what, exactly, is happening, but getting it down in words in a way that isn’t awkward af is v challenging for me.

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

I think you should avoid it if you can.  I think it’s best to adhere to Megatokyo’s strategy of putting any dialogue in another language in brackets (either [] or <>) to show that it’s in another language; you still get the meaning, with no footnotes, and you don’t have to hunt down a native speaker and ask them to help write the dialogue correctly in another language or make the decision over whether to include end/foot notes with the translations.  I do allow for some foreign language terms in dialogue, but then I think I mainly allow that in Naruto fic, and it’s mainly grandfathered in from years of fandom.  Like, it’d be super weird to see a fic talk about techniques and not jutsu, y’know?  And is there anything more awkward than an “upperclassmen” in place of “senpai”?

What’s the first fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon, but the first non-self insert stuff was Final Fantasy VII.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I think (day)dreams come true is the best fic I’ve written, hands down.  It has the strongest emotional core and emotional progression.  I also just really like the ending.  But there are also a few lines and moments in other fics that I’m really pleased with; for example, the lunch conversation in chapter three of (ain’t it good to know) you’ve got a friend is one of my absolute favorite things I’ve written.

And that’s it.  Ok, uh, tagging (god, I’m so bad at tagging people, and idek who’s done this, so apologies for if you’ve already finished) @gettingjuggiewithit @imreallyloveleee @satelliteinasupernova @heartunsettledsoul and anyone else who wants to do this