#and can i please have 100 more chapters of this fanfiction?

[starkspi]

From "Managerial Liberties" on AO3 by @miribalis (where they collect fallen angels like shiny Pokémon at the hotel), it makes me really happy (and has my heart).

[nimue-hidden-lake]

... I'm beyond the point of returning. This fic is going to be my longest ever (so far) I'm afraid...

I never thought that I was capable of this but here we are...

And here I thought that my 56 chapter fic last year was going to be my longest... Oh how wrong I was.

[alexfromjersey]

𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓼 & 𝓕𝓪𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓼

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: jah submits a demo. jenna gets questioned by hudson. fans start to piece things together

warnings: mature language

a/n: I want to quit my job 🙂. I wish we got paid to write fanfiction. I walked 14,987 steps in one single shift

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

🤰🏻🩵

@modernbussywhip: AIGHT I NEED EVERYONE TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME

@ghostridingwhip: aggressive for wat tho?

@modernbussywhip: SSSHHHHHH I HAVE NEW INFO BOUT JAH'S MYSTERY GIRL! I have two potential candidates and please note that one of them is a little bit of a surprise

@highondatgreen: i thought it was clear that I'm Jah's girl

@ghostridingwhip: @highondatgreen whatever u smoke...slide some over here

@ghostridingwhip: @modernbussywhip who are the candidates 👀

@modernbussywhip: ALRIGHT CLASS IS IN SESSION. Now like I said i have two candidates but it could be more cuz we all know Jah is a hoe...a respectable one tho but i digress.

@modernbussywhip: CANDIDATE NUMERO UNO: Stacey Vernon, a popular social media influencer on TikTok. She has a twin sister Diana and with Davis, they all attended school together (as she has mentioned in a TikTok video). They were together at Stacey's birthday party not too long ago and even though Jah shut the rumors down of them being together...we never know when it comes to Shiesty.

@fnthechat: geeeeezzzzz if this Jah's girl....

@behindthespecialk: I love jah but there's no way jah bagged her

@shiestylover: @behindthespecialk: whoa whoa not u doubting my girl's ability to bag bad bitches. you must not seen her roster 😏

@behindthespecialk: HOW?!?! @sheistylover

@shiestylover: she just built like that 😏

@modernbussywhip: LMAOOO while we can admire the untouchable rizz Jah has later....we should move on to candidate numero dos because this one...is a little out there but plausible.

@modernbussywhip: CANDIDATE NUMERO DOS: we all know her, we all love her and it's Miss Jenna Ortega. Now now now before everyone start think pieces just look at my evidence ok come come....evidence number one back when the Scream 6 premiere happened Jah accompanied Davis to it. I'm 95% sure that's where they first met because Jah didn't go to Canada while Davis was filming Scream 6. 1/4

@modernbussywhip: we all saw jenna appear in Jah's vlog...the eye contact, the sexual tension, everything was there between them. But fast forward a couple of hours later, a fan posted a pic with jenna who was at a restaurant and in the pic u can see a tattooed arm and it's the same tattoos Jah has! 2/4

@modernbussywhip: CONTINUE TO WALK WITH ME! Fast forward more, they follow each other on Instagram and as a jenna fan also...that girl avoids that app like the bubonic plague EXCEPT for when Jah posts...every single post of jah has a jenna like...i don't think jenna even likes her mother's posts so for her to only be on Instagram liking Jah's posts....my spidey senses are tingling 3/4

@modernbussywhip: ALMOST DONE! now we always mess with jah on her Reddit so lately it's been nothing but pics and edits of jenna on it...NOT ONCE has she told anyone to stop sending pics and edits of jenna. AND every time she looks at one...her eyes lights up and she starts to smile and blush! Plus after the Met Gala, Jenna stayed in New York...why did she stay in New York?? Jenna's from Cali across the fucking country and she was seen around the Bronx area....YALL NOT FOOLING ME! 4/4

@fnthechat: if jah managed to bag the baddiest scream queen in existence...imma need her to write a book about how to generate THAT much rizz

@ghostridingwhip: fr...that's like level 100 rizz...past Duke Dennis level of rizz

🤰🏻🩵

"Man this is the fucking FIFTH studio I called today and none of them got availability tonight" You groaned out of frustration.

"Why you wait until the last minute to call these studios?" Delyse questioned.

"Well I just signed up for the contest. It was a spur of the moment thing I didn’t really think it through." You said.

Delyse hummed in response and turned her attention back to the food on the stove.

"We can see if Kenny still got his home studio. I think he still live on 33rd" Davis said.

"Bet let's go. We'll be back Ma" You said to your mother and left with Davis.

"You got a song you gonna record?" Davis asked.

"Yeah I wrote it a long time ago. I made the beat and everything" You smiled.

Soon the two of you made it to Kenny's house. You walk into the building and climb up the three flights of stairs, remembering that his elevator never worked. You got to his door and knocked on it.

You waited patiently and slightly out of breath. You knocked again, "Yo Kenny it's me Jah."

Suddenly, the door was ripped opened and a furious looking woman stood there with a crying baby on her hip.

"Uh is Kenny here?" You asked.

The woman laughed sadistically, "Of course you're looking for Kenny. Kenny left four months ago with a skank from Brooklyn."

You and Davis looked at each other stuck on what to say.

"Um...you don't happen to still have his studio equipment?" You asked carefully.

"Nope. I burned it. I burned everything of his" The woman replied.

"Okay thanks" You both gave her a small smile and walked away from Kenny's former apartment. The two of you left the building with you feeling utterly defeated.

"What the fuck am I gonna do? I have to submit this demo by 11:59 tonight" You sighed.

"Don't stress bruh we gon' figure something out. Trust" Davis reassured you. You nodded and took a deep breath in to calm your body down.

🤰🏻🩵

London, England

1:23 am

Jenna had just got to her temporary home after a long day of filming. She was exhausted and was glad she had the day off so she can rest properly. She pulled her shoes off and placed her purse on the table.

Just as she was about to sit on the couch, a knock is at her door.

She internally screams before she walks to the door and opens it to reveal Hudson.

Jenna sighed, "What do you want Hudson?"

"I...just wanted to check in on you. I know you've been working hard which could be harmful to the baby" Hudson said nervously.

"Now you care about me and my baby" Jenna said and raised her eyebrow in suspicious at the boy.

"I always cared about you Jenna. If I didn't I wouldn't be here right now" Hudson replied.

"If you cared about me you wouldn't have told my family about me being pregnant. That wasn't something someone who cared about me would do" Jenna said and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that, it wasn't my place to do that and I sincerely apologize" Hudson said.

Jenna hummed in response, not really believing his words.

Hudson sighed and scratched the back of his neck, "I truly am sorry and I regret doing it. I just...I just wanted to check on you after everything that happened with Neil on the plane."

At the mention of the male, Jenna tensed. She was doing good with pushing him out of her thoughts. Instead, choosing to focus on her filming. She couldn't and won't let him control her...not anymore. She deserved to be happy.

"I'm fine. I'll handle it" Jenna lied.

Hudson opened his mouth to say something but decided against it after seeing the look on her face.

"Okay...I'll uh...see you tomorrow" Hudson said and walked away from her door. Jenna shut the door after he left and sat on her couch. She was stressed and that wasn't good for her or the baby...she needed to relieve some stress.

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

i need help

NYC 🩵:

with 👀

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

im stressed

NYC 🩵:

well taking deep breaths and meditating i heard is a good source of stress relief

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

NYC 🩵:

was that not the right thing to do?

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

nope

NYC 🩵:

ah shit

WAIT

😏😏😏😏😏😏

i know what u want

🤤🤤🤤 vegan food looks bomb don't ya agree

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

I hate you with everything in me 😂

NYC 🩵:

💀💀💀 wym? wat i do? is that not right also?!?

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

you know that's not what i want

NYC 🩵:

what u want then

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

you know

NYC 🩵:

i dont know ms ortega

not a mind reader

use your words

A chill went through Jenna's body as she read the message, imagining you actually saying those words to her...under different circumstances.

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

don't say that

it makes it harder when you say things like that

NYC 🩵:

😂😂😂😂

ain't it like almost 2 am or something over there

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

no...

NYC 🩵:

nice try

go to sleep

goodnight my honey bunches of oats 😘🥰

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

you're annoying 😒

Jenna groaned and placed her phone down next to her. She needed to eat, shower, and sleep. But before she could even attempt to start, her phone dinged again. She grabbed it and opened the message from you, she took a sharp inhale of air.

NYC 🩵:

word?

*attachment: 1 image*

It was picture of you in the mirror with your head titled to the side and tongue stretched out your mouth. Your tongue was naturally long, almost reaching to your chin. But what also caught her eyes was your hand placement which was grabbing your genitalia through your gray sweatpants. That's all Jenna needed.

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

i take back what i said

🤰🏻🩵

You laughed at Jenna's message and fixed yourself before walking out the bathroom. You and Davis got back to your Mother's house defeated from the lack of progress in finding a studio.

You don't know how you were going to finished this demo and submit it in 4 hours.

A knock at the door grabbed your attention, you watched as your mother walks to the door and cracks it open.

"Hey Leon" Delyse smiled brightly at the sight of the man.

"Hey Del, how you doing?" Leon gave her a smile back.

"I'm good just cooking for these clingy kids" Delyse answered and opened the door wider for Leon to see you and Davis.

"Hey Mr. Greenhill" You and Davis simultaneously greeted the older man. Leon chuckled and waved at them.

"Oh I knew I smelled something delicious. Man I missed smelling your cooking reminds me of the old days" Leon flattered.

Delyse let out a little giggle, "Yeah the old days."

The two adults stood in the doorway looking at each other basking in the comfortable silence. Meanwhile, you and Davis looked at each other before looking back at the older adults.

"I...uh just wanted to stop by and say hello. I don't wanna intrude anymore than I already have" Leon smiled at Delyse.

"No, no, no intruding...do you want a plate?" Delyse boldly asked.

It took a moment for Leon to come up with a response but eventually he did, "Uh yeah sure."

The older gentleman walked into the house and Delyse closed the door behind him. Leon pulled off his cap and held it in his hands. He sat next to you at the end of the table.

"How you guys doing?" Leon politely said to you and Davis.

"Eh" You shrugged.

"Eh? Why eh?" Leon questioned.

"Jah signed up for this music competition. Winner gets a five million dollar record deal with Passion Records. The contestants must submit a demo by 11:59 p.m tonight but we haven't found a studio all week" Davis explained.

"And I tried recording it on my phone but the audio is all grainy and hard to hear" You sighed.

"Hmm...can you sing the song you are going to submit?" Leon questioned.

You and Davis glanced at each other again but Davis just shrugged. You scrolled to the notes app and pulled the beat of the song you are going to use.

"Rollin' through with stacks, it's easy, money rainin' down, just like a storm, I got the riches-" You get interrupted by Leon pausing the beat on your phone.

"No" Leon said.

"No? What you mean no? It's a good song" You scoffed.

"Yeah for the early 2015 era when singing about money like that could get you hits. It's 2023 now, people want to hear something different something unique. If I was a judge and I heard that...I would think you're just hopping on the trendy music hoping for yours to be the hit. But you don't realize that everyone is thinking the same thing as you. The only way for you to be looked at twice is if you stand out. Let the lyrics come from within you, come from your heart" Leon explained to you.

Delyse then comes from the kitchen with a plastic bag with aluminum foiled wrapped plates inside.

"Here you go" Delyse smiled and handed Leon the bag.

"Thank you. I really appreciate this Delyse" Leon smiled at her grateful. He stood up from the table and grabbed his cap.

"Once you find those lyrics, come and find me on Southern BLVD but hurry though you got four hours left" Leon said and left the house.

Meanwhile, you sat stuck at the dining room table. Replaying the words Leon said, basically calling your song shit. It stung but deep down you knew he was right. The song didn't feel like you, it felt like a 14 year old wrote it and it wasn't your style.

You glanced at the clock on the wall as you grabbed a pen and paper. 7:48 p.m. Your eyes then glanced down to your phone and an unopened message from Jenna.

Hollywood 🤰🏻:

you have to be the greatest partner alive 😏

"Have to be..." You muttered to yourself. Instantly, your hand starts to move by itself as you write down the lyrics to your new song.

Let the lyrics come from your heart.

🤰🏻🩵

Two hours later, you finally finished and made your way to Southern BLVD with Davis tagging along.

"Why Southern BLVD though? What's here besides crackheads and prostitutes?" Davis commented.

The two of you continued walking down the block until you start to hear the sound of music. The closer you got to the corner, the louder and clearer the music became. It was street drummers and Leon was in the middle of them playing the electric guitar. You and Davis watched in amazement as he kept up with the drummers until they finished their last cord together.

The small amount of people that were gathered applauded them and a couple gave a few dollars before walking away.

"Yo I ain't know you could play the guitar Mr. Greenhill" Davis said.

Leon chuckled, "I'm a man with many talents son." The older male turned to you.

"I'm assuming you got something better with you this time" Leon teased.

You laughed, "Yeah I do. Wrote it from the heart like you said."

"Alright, well you better warm up that voice. You got a song to perform" Leon smiled and patted your back.

"Wait what? Right now? In public?" You questioned.

"Uh yeah. You need to submit that demo in two hours. I checked to see if you submit a live version of your demo and it said you could so get a move on" Leon said and stepped to the side.

"I don't got a beat though I just have the lyrics" You said. You were really trying your hardest not to perform in front of people severely underprepared.

"Don't worry about that" Leon said and placed the guitar over his shoulder.

Leon then played a cord on the guitar, soon the bucket drummer started feeling the vibe and matched the cord Leon was playing. Then you heard someone sweeping from behind you, it surprisingly also matched with everyone. You start to nod your head, feeling the rhythm and you grabbed the beat up microphone from the ground.

Davis pulled out his phone to start recording you.

"Can't wait for you to get home, we ain't got to go nowhere. Airplane on my phone, it can wait til the morning. I can't fathom why you choose me out billions but I'll take it" You sung. You felt your eyes close as you got lost into the music.

Soon, you finished off the song to a large crowd cheering and clapping at your performance.

"I told you let the lyrics come from your heart. You made magic tonight Jah, take pride of your work" Leon educated you.

You nodded at him and walked over to Davis who was fiddling with his phone.

"And submitted" Davis smiled at you as he submitted the demo on the competition website.

"Hard part is over for now. Now we wait" You exhaled deeply.

a/n: if you put a buck in my cup I will shut the fuck up… but you ain’t gotta be a baller to give me a motherfucking dollar…

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu @zaclewiss @yescruzzzzzzz @silentfor @gemz5 @alwaysdangerouschild @onceblinkarmyandmore @melonfruit442 @zataracloud @nepobaby08 @jennasslut @rimaybank @jaewu @j3nc0re @fillthwvoid

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 1: My Love Is As a Fever, Longing Still

← Prologue

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 14.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name usage for reader (only a few blank spaces), use of 2nd person for the reader, Sebastian is confused and doesn't know how to handle his feelings, and he's also struggling with his personality, veeeeery slow burn

Summary: "He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is long, and more is to come. It's gonna be a very slow burn apparently, but I hope you will like it. Finally Chapter 1 is here, it's been a while. Also, as much as I love fanon! Draco and Pansy, I decided to follow a more canonical approach here, sorry. Again, english is not myfirst language so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. Never am I going to write about time travel again,my brain hurts.

I also made a playlist inspired by this because why not.

You can find the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

You weren't her.

Then who the hell were you?

You briefly smiled at Sebastian and then turned back to the red-head, squinting. "Do you have the book or not?"

Ron gulped, avoiding your eyes. "It's probably in my dorm or something... I didn't have class, so I didn't take it with me."

"In your dorm, isn't that right?" Your eyes narrowed even more if that was even possible, and Sebastian was pretty sure you were about to hex him on the spot. Your leering didn't go unnoticed by either of the two Gryffindors and Hermione’s throat bobbed ever so slightly, eyes widening a little in alert.

"Well, as I said—"

"Here," interrupted Hermione suddenly, voice slightly squeaking. She looked into her bag and extracted her own copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants. "Use this in the meantime. I take notes on the book too, unlike Ronald here, so it should compensate."

You accepted the book, seemingly calming down a bit. “Thank you, Hermione,” you said, enunciating her name sarcastically as you shot the other boy a nasty look, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude as Ron hung his head low, cheeks as red as his hair.

“I said I'll give it back,” said Ron, scowling. “It’s not like you need it anyway. Sprout doesn’t even make us open books!”

You politely smiled at Hermione, your eye slightly twitching at his remark, before said smile turned into a sneer as you looked at Ron again. “Then what the hell is taking you so long?"

Hermione sighed softly, dejectedly, and Ron shrinked on himself, sending Sebastian an unconfident look. But that only seemed to propel you to continue.

"And most people do open books for Herbology, my dear Ron, but I don’t expect you to know that. You’re too busy trying to find ways to whine and beg others to help your lazy ass later when they have other, more important things to do.”

Sebastian saw it happen, in a gradual, torturous slowing of time. There was something about you, in the way your lip quirked up, in the way your brows furrowed, giving life to that crease. Something that you couldn't stop, washing over you like a tsunami, drowning any possible thought of rationality and empathy. Control, in that moment, was appearance and nothing more.

He felt, for a moment, afraid; chilling his veins until goosebumps raised on his skin: a thrill, as if she was there. As if he was watching her unleash that godly power in all her beauty.

You were still, hands clammy at your sides, as he could see you open and close them repeatedly, and you weren't gloating. It was different; like that thick, foggy feeling that floods your brain when your opponent misses a step whilst casting Protego, or opens their arm a bit too much, making it easy for a well-aimed Stunning Spell to pass through, and it makes your cheeks turn red and your chest flutter, and Sebastian saw that twinkle in your eyes as you ignored Hermione’s pleading look.

The same thrill that makes his heart tug when he inevitably, nimbly raises his wand back. When the spell goes right where he intended it to go, and the deaf sound of a wand hitting the floor fills his ears.

It was that innate human side that took pleasure in pain. That part that could turn from a lambent glow into a Fiendfyre if you're not careful. Or if you really put your mind to it.

But you weren't duelling.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of the way with which you were slandering your — he supposed — friend. And in front of him, too. It made him slightly tremble, his lip slightly twitch. Part of him wondered if he was invisible, part of him felt a little too alert, part of him pitied the girl in front of him.

And while it seemed Ron and Hermione were just as shocked, they had a sort of weary gleam in their eyes. And any attempt at smoothing things over was futile. Hermione feebly tried to intervene. “Oh, we don’t need to go further—”

“You see Ronald, for a Prefect you should really put some thought into the impression you’re making on new students, not to mention the one you should give of our school—” you ignored her and sarcastically gestured towards Sebastian, who felt his breath hitch at the sudden spotlight put on him, “and yet, you’re always so comfortable acting like a dimwit . Pull yourself together and be responsible for once.”

Ron’s jaw fell open, completely at loss for words at your harsh words, and he shared a look with Hermione that Sebastian was able to understand completely.

What the hell just happened?

He couldn't agree more.

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Ron sternly.

“I think you’re disrespectful,” you replied just as eagerly.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Hermione, putting herself between the two Gryffindors. “It so happens we have a guest here!”

Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken ever-so-slightly as both you and Ron turned to him like you had just seen him for the first time. He shifted his weight uncomfortably; an attempt to get rid of that eerie shiver that ran down his spine as your incensed gaze fell on him.

That seemed to snap you out of it, and your cheeks flushed a bit in regret. “Fair enough...” you muttered, nodding at Sebastian. “Sorry.”

He nodded back, unsure about what to do as he shifted his eyes between you and Ron, letting them linger on your face each time he looked at you. Your nose had that same curve he always wished he could kiss, run his lips over with reverence… He shook the thought out of his head immediately.

“I should receive an apology as well,” muttered Ron, and Hermione nudged his arm as a warning not to add fuel to the fire.

"You have one day. Just one." You gave Ron an ultimatum, your tone sharp and, Sebastian thought, quite frightening. He hoped to never find himself in Ron's place. “And don’t expect me to help you ever again, I'm tired of it!”

You didn’t wait for an answer and began to walk away, only stopping briefly to look at the Slytherin boy. "I wish you the best of luck, especially if he— " you glanced at Ron again "—has to be the one guiding you through this maze they call a school."

Sebastian gasped and opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed to be stuck somewhere between his throat and his tongue. He let his eyes fleet over your face again, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to make out your features, like in a dream.

"I hope we'll meet again soon enough." You forced a smile on your face that looked almost guilty and embarrassed, and with that, you were gone.

His eyes followed you until you turned a corner and vanished from his sight, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour — questions with no answers clouding his mind more and more each second. Who were you? Why did you look like her? And above all, why did you bear her family name?

Even after the theatricals that he had just witnessed, there was a certain hope in his heart: traitorous and wrong. A hope that she was really there, somewhere, waiting for him. A hope he immediately wanted to crush as soon as the image of your eyes and red robes flashed in the window of his vision again.

Sebastian Sallow was utterly, completely, absolutely losing his mind.

He was aware of the gravity of his situation — his body still spasmed uncomfortably every now and then as a result of having travelled through space and time — but, Sebastian realised, it felt more like a trance. A painfully aware and too tight reverie he couldn't find a way out of. After all, just the night before, Natty had asked him if he wanted to take part in Summoner's Court with her the next day, hadn't she?

And just a few hours after that, Sebastian had decided to try his last chance, opening the artefact that, he had believed, would bring him back to a time where her sister wasn't cursed — a time he could have avoided the disaster. And not just one at that.

He took a deep breath, willing the halls of Hogwarts to become brighter in his vision, more real. He was indeed in the future, he repeated himself, his ribcage evidently too small to contain the excruciating throbbing he felt in his chest. He had to accept that. He did. Probably.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian heard Ron mutter as he also stared at the point from which you had just disappeared. “What was all that for?”

“Honestly, Ronald…” said Hermione curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Still, Sebastian felt painfully calm at his situation: the sort of calm that he only experienced when he knew he was in trouble and couldn't do anything about it, or when he knew he was in trouble and had the solution for it lying in his hands, teeming down his throat like a treacly and old pint of Butterbeer, or a briquette of ice, whipsawed by the choice of safely travelling down his stomach and melt and leave him warm and satisfied or change direction and chill his lungs and cut his breath and bring him to a freeze.

What would Sebastian, a calm and collected person (and he believed he was, or tried, at least), do in a similar situation?

Two options came to his mind, clear and painfully bright.

To freak out completely until he was in shambles on the floor, addled and ready to break himself and cut the edges of his persona to fit into the new reality he now essentially belonged to, though he still didn't feel like it.

Or estrange himself from said reality, seeing it through lenses, analysing the world around him as if he weren't there until he found a way to go back, like a spectator, a reader. And he was indeed a reader.

In a way, the very core of one was tantamount to the other — both would completely destroy him. And Sebastian Sallow could not allow himself to be destroyed. Not like this.

But then there was another, the one Sebastian desperately willed himself to adopt, keeping his edges glued to himself and the lenses away from his perfectly working eyes.

The one he followed when everyone had lost hope for Anne.

And that was any option available, and every rational thought, even if the sound of them — or anything else, really — was still drowned by the loud pounding of his heart reverberating at the thought of the girl who just flipped his world upside down.

“What did you say her name was again?” Sebastian asked the two students, his eyes never leaving the corner you had just turned.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with surprise; Ron opened his mouth with a scowl, as if about to make a snarky remark, but Hermione interrupted him, repeating your name calmly.

That was indeed the name.

And so he tried to be as rational as possible.

“Thank you,” said Sebastian quietly, lips parted, gaze musing. “I’d forgotten that just there.”

You were her descendant, a hundred years from his time.

Sebastian couldn't remember her having any siblings or cousins who bore her surname, but if you did, you had to have received it from a male member of her family, didn't you? She couldn't possibly have given you her name unless she married someone from her own bloodline, and Merlin, he hated that thought.

Or she had married someone else and decided to keep her own surname instead, and, once again, Sebastian knew — it wasn't his first thought, of course, but certainly one that plagued his mind — that he couldn't have been the one she had married, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he'd have burned down the world just to get her to take his last name.

His thoughts circled back to her family, but try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint any related members from whom you might descend. He was starting to feel dizzy and sure to be on the brink of collapsing under the amount of information he was trying to process, but then Ron and Hermione pulled him out of his trance by starting to explain the rules of the castle, the classes to attend and some basic information about the Professors.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts changes every year; they say there's a curse on the chair or something," explained Ron, having calmed down a bit, and half-smiled, "so you won't have to see toad-face for long."

"Toad-what?" asked Sebastian absent-mindedly, his head still teeming with disjointed thoughts and meandering ideas which, Sebastian was sure of it, would never find a proper abode.

"Our new Professor. You'll see what I mean when you meet her for the first time."

Sebastian nodded occasionally as he listened to them talk about the other Professors, such as Snape, the Potions teacher, and also the Head of the Slytherin House. Ron kept going on about how annoying he was, trying not to show how much he was afraid of him. "You don't have to worry, though: Slytherins get special treatment from him," he said jokingly.

Ron, Sebastian decided then, was a nice fellow. He found himself wondering why you had reproached him so harshly. He had half-a-mind to ask, then, about your behaviour — and why both the two Gryffindors seemed to be far less surprised about it than he expected. He decided against it.

"Wait, what do you mean, she won't let you use spells?" Sebastian frowned as they talked about 'toad-face', alias Dolores Umbridge.

"She's from the Ministry," explained Hermione. "After what happened last year, we're sure they're doing everything they can to keep the school under control and make sure no lies—" she stroked the word sarcastically, "—are spread among the students.

"I'll explain everything later. We should focus on more important things, like your academic persona and your education," she added, noticing his confused expression.

She was definitely Prefect and worthy of her role too, at least if you went by the typical clichés.

--

The hours passed, and there wasn't a minute when Sebastian didn't think of her.

And of you.

Because the more time he spent walking, the more his rationality seemed weak and pointless.

He thought he'd go mad, her memories spoiled by your oh-so-similar but equally different features. He saw your eyes looking at him back in the Scriptorium, as she was ready to take the Cruciatus Curse rather than cast it on him. He saw a Gryffindor sitting by him in Herbology, stealing not-so-subtle glances while tending to the mandrakes. He felt like his mind was splitting in half, frustrated and embittered and close to tears as you tainted his remembrances of her.

He needed to see you again, talk to you, ask about your life, your family, your past. He needed to know every thought behind your eyes, every subtle expression towards him that could mean you recognised him, that you were her, that you remembered him, remembered your time together, that you'd follow him in all his antics, in all his mistakes, in all his choices, that your actions meant more than your words.

That you loved him as he loved you — as he loved her.

Her.

Not you.

Because he didn't need to talk to you. Because indeed your recent actions spoke louder than words ever could.

Because no matter how much Sebastian fooled himself into thinking that he wasn't alone, stuck in a world that had gone on without him for a hundred years, that she returned his feelings the way he thought she did, that somehow you'd look at him and know that she was meant for him, that you were meant for him, you weren't her . You didn't know him. You could never know him as she did, and not because he wouldn't let you in — he'd run to you even now and lay his heart open if it meant finding a faint resemblance to what it used to be — but because he couldn't allow it. He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her.

At that moment, Sebastian made the decision to stay as far away from you as possible.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed that it was already lunchtime.

"Do you think Dumbledore will make a speech to introduce him or not?" asked Ron, not caring that the Slytherin boy could hear him loud and clear.

"I don't think he'd just let it go, but I hope it won't be as big as last year's," noted Hermione.

"Those were two bloody new schools, Hermione. This one must be different."

He felt like a new Honeydukes product hitting the shelves for the first time.

It turned out the Headmaster hadn't made a speech to introduce him, and Sebastian almost would have preferred it if he had, because he felt like a circus monkey sitting at the Slytherin table with a hundred eyes staring at him like he'd just broken into their home and stole a particularly rare card from their Chocolate Frogs collection. He looked around at the other tables and saw heads turning away so quickly that he was sure he would be the culprit in a mass murder with a thousand broken necks. He sighed as a girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting opposite of him handed him mashed potatoes.

"Do you want to eat or not? No one poisoned your food just because they don't know you."

Sebastian glanced at her and accepted her plate, munching his food slowly as if he didn't quite believe her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Sebastian Sallow."

"Sallow? Never heard of that name. What's your blood status?"

He almost choked on his food at her blunt question. What kind of uncivilised conversation was this? And the way she looked at him, waiting for his answer, he knew that that question alone could decide his entire future — hopefully a short one — in that House.

"I'm a pureblood like you, I suppose," he lied, lifting an eyebrow as he blankly stared at the girl.

"I see," said Pansy, narrowing her eyes as if not fully believing him. And Sebastian knew it was probably time for him to make up a story, a lie he could tell everyone in the indefinite amount of time he was to spend among them.

He had put a great deal of thought into what wanted to tell in the past hour — he could, after all, be anyone. Anyone he wanted.

He could change his past, he could avoid his mistakes, he could pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life. He could just be.

In the end, it didn't matter, because while other people might look at him and see only a picture-perfect new student with a thirst for knowledge, he would look at himself and see the boy who tortured his friend, the boy who murdered his uncle.

They might not know, but he would.

He kept the edges tight against his body, and decided to opt for a half lie that made it easier for him to play on and not forget any details.

He told her that he wasn't from the Highlands. He told her how his parents were Professors at another magical school but died prematurely, and left him to live with his uncle, a former Auror. And he told her about his timely death as well, omitting, of course, his involvement in it.

"When he died, too, I decided to move here," he concluded simply, hiding the tremble of his lips behind a glass of pumpkin juice.

Part of him expected sympathy from her, or at least a hint of hesitation; that look he had become so accustomed to whenever people came to know about his tragic tale or something along those lines.

Surprisingly — though, for some reason, Sebastian wasn’t surprised in the slightest — Pansy Parkinson didn't seem to care at all.

"Were your parents true purebloods or filthy blood traitors like the Weasleys?" she asked instead, clearly showing where her priorities lay, and it was enough for him to know that his earlier hope that there would be no more discrimination was merely a child's prayer.

"They have magic. That's the only thing you need to know." Sebastian cut short before focusing on his food. He noticed the familiar badge on her robes and silently thanked Dumbledore for assigning him to the Gryffindor Prefects instead. At least they never judged him, not even for dwelling with time and space like a bloody idiot — though he believed he had seen a gleam of reproach in Hermione's eyes as she'd uttered the word 'misadventure .

"All right, I believe you." She shrugged.

Sebastian wasn't convinced.

Pansy nudged a boy beside her, who looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. He was pale, with sleek blond hair so light it almost looked white, and also wore a badge. He reminded Sebastian of Ominis. That must be Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," — it hadn't been so hard to guess, though now Sebastian thought he'd rather not meet him at all — "I saw you walking around today with that skint blood traitor and that mudblood Granger. You should have been assigned to us. It's not worth it to taint your blood status by associating with such filth," he spoke venomously, a mocking tone punctuating his sentences.

Skint blood traitor. Mudblood. He was exactly like those boors Sebastian so enjoyed thrashing in Crossed Wands when they had the guts to join. Perhaps he could do the same with him — blast him with Bombarda until his hair turned black (or he went bald; any of them would do).

Sebastian didn't know why he suddenly felt like defending the honour of two people he had met that same day, but he wished he could poison his food instead.

"Maybe next time you'll be considered fit for your assigned role. I suppose all that purity didn’t take you that far this time," he replied just as rudely.

Draco Malfoy made a weird face — a mix between stunned and angry and that half smirk that had begun to creep up his face as he had expected Sebastian to agree with him, and that had died on his lips but not yet fully, and the whole thing was so comical Sebastian had to hold back a snort. Because that was not (not in a million years, no matter how many artefacts he accidentally opened) going to happen, and when Draco Malfoy realised it, he seemed to have a hard time closing his mouth back to a dignified expression.

"I'd be careful if I were you, new student. I'm a Prefect!" he threatened, squinting his grey eyes and finally gaining enough control to curl his lip into a small smirk.

Spoiled bragger, Sebastian thought.

"And what exactly are you planning to do — take points away from your own House?" replied Sebastian, smirking back, enjoying how his face turned back to that ferret-like countenance.

"We share the same dormitory. Choose your words carefully." Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, his face becoming even paler. Sebastian wondered if he had even an ounce of blood in that body of his.

"We do indeed, so I suggest you sleep with one eye open," retorted Sebastian. Part of him knew that, logically, he should have been more mature about the situation.

But Merlin, he was starting to despise the brat.

(And the other part of him was still fantasising about that Bombarda-induced vengeance).

"You think you can scare me?"

Draco Malfoy snickered, and the line of Slytherins sitting on his side began staring at the two boys with piqued interest, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was quite unusual for two Slytherins to argue so openly, and even students from other Houses had begun to turn their heads towards their direction. Two big students beside Draco Malfoy snickered, too, as if on cue. Sebastian felt a wave of repugnance at how pathetic they looked.

"Definitely not, especially when you have your guard dogs next to you." Sebastian nodded at the two students mockingly. "Tell me, does your father pay them to be by your side? They can't be that stupid to volunteer to be in your presence."

The blond appeared to want to eat him alive, while the other two took a bit longer to fully understand his words before reproducing the same angry expression. Perhaps Sebastian understood your outburst: it was indeed gratifying to pour his disdain out. Though, unlike you, Sebastian didn't feel an ounce of regret. 

"All right, Draco, enough of this," interrupted Pansy with a sigh, before giving Sebastian a hateful look. "He's a blood traitor like Weasley, and he'd better take care of his priorities."

Sebastian ignored her, focusing back on his food and already dreading the idea of having to share his Common Room and dormitory with people like that. Maybe he could sleep in the Undercroft for the rest of the year. He wondered if that place still existed at all.

Strangely enough, the aftermath was quite unsatisfactory, and Sebastian felt his cheeks warm up as he realised he had indeed acted like an immature git, stepping down right at their level. He stared at his half-empty plate, abashed.

The time passing, then, felt particularly chilly under his skin.

After he felt content enough with his lunch, Sebastian stood up, ready to meet the two Gryffindors again. He faltered a little as he looked around their table, his chest squeezing as he caught a glimpse of you. And not just a glimpse.

He watched you as you engaged in a happy conversation with a red-haired girl next to you: she scarily resembled Ron, so he deduced that she must be his sister. The two Prefects sat opposite you, and on your other side was a boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Sebastian noticed how you tried to avoid Ron's eyes, only glancing up at him through your lashes from time to time before looking back at the girl, and he wondered if you would even apologise or if you were waiting for the red-head to do so. How proud were you? How much did you care? To which length were you willing to go for the people you loved? Sebastian felt a compulsive need to know it all, a new wave of hunger right in the pit of his stomach, completely empty even after his heavy, albeit displeasing, lunch, and ready to be fed by what all he could find about you. He needed to know every last bit of information, if it was the last thing he did in that new world.

That eerie calm chilled his bones again, moderately assuaging his desire, like a glass of cold water before supper. Sebastian realised he was stuck, so he had no rush to do exactly that. He didn't need to be greedy, to devour — though the idea was tempting indeed — and to gobble up every bit of you yet. He could feast, he could savour, he could indulge in his sumptuous meal like he deserved. And then he would find his way back, satiated beyond belief.

Now that would take his edges off.

He shook his head, derailing that tingly feeling running down his lower stomach before it nestled, and averted his eyes, instead noticing that barely anyone had left the Great Hall, and he was the only Slytherin standing. He quickly walked out of the room and rested against a column, wondering if he should wait for Ron and Hermione to finish eating and meet him, or if he should just go alone.

--

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

"Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever.

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, "It wasn't on the Map."

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally, I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply, and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

"Illegal? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "...unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

"Because it would be a shame if other people in, let’s see, higher power were to know about it, too, wouldn’t it?" You moved a hand through your hair to push it back, clearing your vision, and Sebastian watched as your locks fell around your face, a twinge in his chest. "Although I do believe Professor Flitwick would love to have another room for his choir practice. Is there a good acoustic in it?" You peered over his shoulder and towards the now closed door with a playful smile, clearly only teasing him, but the way the light fell on the tresses framing your visage was a bit too familiar to him. His mind stalled for a moment, and he didn't want those beats to stop anymore.

"Why do you care about this room so much?" Sebastian shifted his weight, now taking a step forward as well, and your eyes flickered down when you perceived the movement. Your lip twitched a bit.

"Why do you?" You simply replied, shrugging. "A secret room is a secret room. Don't you want to be a proper new student and get in good with the Professors?"

Sebastian felt his stomach boil at your singsong tone. "That seems to be more of a Gryffindor trait."

"Is it? And how much does a supposed stranger know about our Houses?"

His breath hitched and his resolve crumbled immediately at your quick retort. Sebastian warmed all over and stilled in his steps, feeling a bit too heavy on his legs. The image of the girl who lost her temper in the corridor was the one he had expected to evoke, pity even, yet she was nowhere to be found as your half-lidded gaze stared at him impishly.

"Besides," you continued, clearly feeding off his reaction with increasing confidence. "You should really get to know your Slytherin peers a bit more. Hopefully you won't become like them, but alas if you do, you'll end up snitching on this place yourself."

The thrill gradually disappeared, replaced by unadulterated annoyance. He found himself lowering his head, and he glared down at you, heart pounding in his ears. Your eyes stayed unwavering in his, though Sebastian noticed your crossed arms tightening marginally around your chest. "You can only wish to be like us," he hissed.

As you lifted an eyebrow daringly, he stepped forward again, finally free of that marbly perception that had spread through his body at your mockery, and towered over you. You tilted your head up, eyes never leaving his, the red and gold making them stand out in a way that only sent a new wave of anger through Sebastian's bones.

You could only wish to be like her.

"My dream in life."

Your voice rustled softly against your teeth, stretching with the smirk you wore, daring him to retort again. Sebastian felt it spread before he could even process your words entirely, burning through his guts all the way up to his trembling hands. That hunger. Craving. Ache. And something else — something that made the corners of his mouth tingle and his head tilt forward slightly more. He inhaled deeply from his nose, breathing out gratingly, air straining against his throat.

"Shall I serve as your future proxy and tell the faculty about it now?" you continued, voice glottal and purring, faring on the satisfaction of his heavy breathing on your face. "Might save you time ahead."

A low chuckle left his lips. "Even if you told the faculty about it, I could always pretend you were the one who showed it to me and kept it a secret all this time. After all, I am the new student, aren’t I?"

He grinned to himself as your smile fell slightly, squinting as you looked at him, but it only lasted a moment before you spoke again.

"And why, pray tell, would anyone believe that I would fraternise with a Slytherin enough to show said person a secret room?" You leaned your head on the side, and Sebastian’s heart jumped again. "And why would I turn myself in, given I would have, supposedly, kept my room hidden for five years?"

"It's my room," replied Sebastian lowly, instinctually, voice slightly trembling, blood rising to his head. Despite the height difference, he was starting to feel smaller and smaller every time you spoke, crushing his resolve word by word. It made him shrivel. "I knew it before. You're not welcome in it, nor is it any of your business."

"You knew it before," you repeated blankly, like you didn't care. "So you’re admitting to having learnt about this place already?"

What?

A heartbeat, a glint in your irises, and Sebastian's heart dropped pathetically as he realised he had given you exactly what you had been searching for — what you had wanted him to admit all this time. He shifted his weight back, leaning away from you. "No, I never said—"

"—I believe the Professors know about your true history — especially Dumbledore, you can't trick that one — so I know they won’t be fooled," you continued undaunted to shut each and every one of his possible retorts. "Plus, even if you told them that lie after I snitched on this place, they’d still let it go and take control of this room — Filch in particular. I won’t get into trouble just for keeping an insignificant room secret, but you would lose your special place."

His mouth fell open, for once at a loss for words. He could only stay silent as you threatened to reveal his hidden spot with that undeterred ragging tone of yours. Sebastian would usually brush off any threat against him, especially if it involved getting the help of teachers of all people — he was known for breaking rules on any occasion — but he couldn't ignore your words. He knew you had no idea how much that room meant to him; would you have cared if he told you? Would you have taken your words back? Why would he care if you had? He had promised himself to stay away from you, and that was exactly what he was planning to do. This conversation had gone on for too long.

"Who—Who says it's my special place?" Sebastian tried to salvage it, although his disingenuous and trembling voice betrayed him almost immediately.

"You reek of dust and humidity," you said with a satisfied smile, as if insouciantly waiting to shake his hand after your checkmate. "As if you've spent a lot of time in there just now. Also, no student in Hogwarts with more than a pea for a brain would ever refuse the comfort of a secret room no one has discovered yet."

You had deduced it... by his smell?

Sebastian had still been processing when you gathered your things and looked back at him, breaking into a genuine smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and mind you, there are a lot of them in this school, so you'd better get used to it."

The corner of his lips quirked up against his will, heart gradually slowing down again. "Well, you did just threaten me in a way."

You chuckled — an unfeigned, carefree chuckle with no malicious hint — and shrugged. "I was never going to snitch on you, that would have been incongruous. I just wanted to see how this would go."

"I don't follow," he said at length, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow at that. "Were you just playing with me?"

Sebastian didn't know why he had asked. It had been quite clear since you started talking that you had only run rings around him like he was a bloody amateur. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks in chagrin. You averted your eyes with a smile still on your face, and Sebastian wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or annoyed.

"Call it an investigation." You raised your hands in surrender. "I’m no Sherlock Holmes, of course, but..."

"Sherlock who?"

"He... Never mind." You shook your head, and looked back at him for a moment, biting your lip as if facing a conundrum. You sighed. "The thing is, from your perspective my threat should've appeared empty, or unfounded, because, as you said, the Professors would have believed that I was the one who showed you the room, as a more experienced student."

Sebastian listened intently, growing more confused the more you spoke. "Wait, so—"

"So, if you had nothing to hide and had really just found out about the room, you would've been less... defensive ," you explained, and Sebastian found no contempt in your voice: it was neutral, a bit excited maybe, but not mocking — perhaps only a little condescending, he noted bitterly. "Or, more specifically, you would have been defensive about me being out of line rather than about the room itself — more annoyed , I believe, at the fact that I got all up in your personal business uninvited."

The way you spoke, with unalloyed certitude and indisputable pride — though with an almost riveting aspect in your self-assurance, if he dared to admit it — seemed almost preposterous to Sebastian.

"Also," you continued, "if you had really stumbled upon it so easily, you would've been more shocked about the fact that no one else in the school had, wouldn't you?"

That actually... Made sense.

“What if I were just a new student who had accidentally found a room,” began Sebastian hesitantly, although he couldn't stop himself from being rather dazzled — and envious. And definitely ill at ease at your aptitude at reading people — him specifically. “And had completely panicked when another more experienced student threatened to reveal me as if I had done something horribly wrong?”

You looked at him, eyes shifting between his right and left one in a sequence. “Yeah,” you finally countenanced with a blithe nod. “That would have been perfectly plausible, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell, exasperated beyond measure. He suddenly felt a wave of lassitude wash over him and let out a world-weary sigh that earned him a small smile from you.

"Just know that you don't know me as much as you think you do," he said at length.

“I don’t know you at all,” you confirmed with a bright smile. “But I definitely enjoyed this. "

You pointed between the two of you, and Sebastian faltered, following your hand with his eyes for a moment before his gaze fixed on you again. "What?"

"It's just… I didn't lose my temper this time, and... well — it was sort of... nice."

Nice. The word you had used was nice. Sebastian found it anything but that: it had been humiliating to say the least. But again, he was the loser.

"You didn't lose your temper alright," said Sebastian, looking away. "Though we may need to get even on that."

Your eyebrows lifted and you broke into a giggle. "Yeah, perhaps. Even if I'm sure I'm not as much of a smooth talker when you’re not in… well… emotional distress." 

To his own surprise, Sebastian smiled back, genuinely and widely and almost tenderly, letting his chest tingle freely and a little more than needed. "So you took advantage of me."

"That I did." You nodded at him. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you." And with that, you started to walk away, leaving him stunned but smiling in the middle of the corridor.

"Ah, before I go," you suddenly added, turning around and walking backwards, and his eyes shot to you once more; "last time I saw Ron and Hermione, they were near the Grand Staircase, on the second floor. If I meet them, I’ll send them to you."

You waved at him and turned around, walking down the stairs and disappearing from his sight.

[Read more]

Taglist:

@lovely-maryj @yuzuhasbae @mosf13 @rbfacee @prichuchan-blog @h0neeyy @lina-prongs @moonlightsolo @ninicol @gayandfairycore @nanako-sakura @epicy0n @shiro-from-cafeberry

(I'm having trouble tagging some of you, sorry :( )

[makittuu]

GUYS. GUYS.

I found this amazing fanfiction! It's going to be at the top of my lists for sure. It's a Steven Universe AU fic where an apocalypse takes over the earth; and corrupted gems and Spinel's pain are further explored 🙌

I drew Red, one of the characters from it! I absolutely adore the concept for this character; you should definitely give the story a read to learn more! 🙏 I really hope I did Red justice in my art 💕

Red belongs to @prophet-of-calamity

and here is their fic!👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50458486/chapters/127488331

She has a lollipop at one point in the story, so I drew her with a couple hehe!

Also, the writing is very masterfully done; it flows very well, is complex, and it's such a nice read!

FURTHER DISCUSSION, (IF INTERESTED)👇

Going into it, I was a little cautious, as I would be for any fanfic, just because it's about one of my favorite characters. Spinel is so much so one of my favorite characters that I really wanted to like the author's representation of her! It's obviously okay to think about characters however you want to. And to represent them however feels best to you! But going into this, I was really hoping to like the way Spinel was represented by this author! And I left feeling beyond impressed at the way the author handled Spinel's inner thoughts and the way she can be compassionate for others, but also feel trapped and overtaken by her thoughts and pain sometimes. She was never given the chance to fully heal, so it makes sense. And even if she were, she was hurt pretty badly; it's understandable if she never fully, truly and completely stops hurting over it. Healing isn't a linear path, and I think the author did a wonderful job of representing all of this.

AND OMG this story does such a good job of representing other characters in a way that feels so true to them too! Lapis felt so lined up with her character that I could even hear her lines in her voice as I was reading!

The descriptors and imagery throughout are stunning, and done in a way that made me feel fully immersed as I was reading. Even when I left and came back to keep reading, I felt immersed again as I got into it, which is hard for me sometimes.

On top of that, the author found so many clever connectors to link Spinel's character in with other events. I'm very impressed by it, and please go give it a read! <3

There's also a detroit become human reference in chapter two that really struck me, I have not heard that joke in a long time bahahahha 😭

I hope I came off the right way, I absolutely recommend this story! It's not completed just yet, but what's written so far is 100% worth a read all on its own, and it deserves to have a bunch of loyal readers! And it's so beautifully done, I'd still happily recommend it and believe how worth it of a read it is, no matter how long it ends up being in the end! Writing is hard and finding motivation can be difficult at times, and this author has done such an amazing job tackling this project, putting in so much care and developing all the characters so strongly! Even Red is developed so well that she fits in really seamlessly with the official su characters :)

Thank you for making it to the end if you did! :)

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 4: Reader Suggestions

Previous Chapter: Lore Dump

Summary: Things start to get a little strange when The Writer hits the dreaded Writer's Block and looks for some inspiration.

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Chaos, SMUT?, Cockblocking?, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Various References to Movies and Television, Probably a little more lore (just assume that theres gonna be bits of lore everywhere), Criticism of Fanfiction, Analysis of Fanfiction/Fandom, Meta Fiction

Note: This is more of a "filler episode" to establish some of the rules of Eddie and Reader's predicament than anything specifically plot-driven, until the end. You could say that I myself felt a little bit of Writer's Block...not necessarily because I couldn't get anything onto a page but that it wasn't happening for this story in particular. (Coincidental that it happened at this specific chapter. Almost like I planned it that way. Maybe I did.)

So please forgive me if anything feels a little rusty; I'm getting back on this bicycle after a few months of letting it sit in the garage. But I'm happy I get to take it for a spin again. We're in it for the Tour de France now lads! Or we die trying.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

You know, in a previous life, if someone told you that you'd be laughing in the face of a bloodthirsty, murderous vampire, you would probably think it was impossible.

That was, unfortunately, the reality you lived in right now.

Red, veiny, monstrous eyes. Sharp fangs. Hissing and roaring.

And you just snickering like an idiot with a death wish.

Probably because you knew it wasn't actually a death wish.

Your arrival in Mystic Falls was an interesting and exciting one. Mainly because of how normal it was.

It was a small town and everyone seemed friendly enough and you were truly ready for it to be a break in the action. Despite it being another so-called "modern" or "futuristic" setting.

Futuristic to you, at least. Still a bit stuck in your 1985 mindset, 2009 seemed beyond your imagination. More than the 90s had been, or 2004. Still not as bad as when one of the Writers shoved you onto the USS Enterprise so you could woo Bones McCoy. And certainly not 100 Trillion years in the future, at the end of the Universe with The Doctor.

Still, you were happy for a change of pace. So you chugged into town with your trusty Beetle like you usually did, until you made it to the large house on Maple Street that was the new residence of your supposed "college best friend," Jenna Sommers.

You liked Jenna, actually. She was sweet and funny and hated the hoity-toity elites of the town's Founding Families. She dragged you to all the Historical Society events just to have an ally, and those nights were always a hoot. You'd gossip about the mayor's affair with so-and-so, drink free booze til you saw double, and stuff your tiny handbags with their expensive hors d'oeuvres.

After years of traveling through various universes, and over analyzing your friendships back in Port Geneva, she was a breath of fresh air and someone you truly cherished.

She also set you up with her boyfriend's best frenemy--her words, not yours--Damon Salvatore.

And he seemed fine.

Great, actually.

A normal, sarcastically funny, suave, handsome sort of guy who took you out a few times and always behaved like a gentleman, and kissed better than anyone you'd ever kissed before.

Until this very moment, where the penny dropped, and he roared in your face with his fangs.

And you just laughed in his.

Because of course he was a vampire.

Of course you couldn't have a nice, normal thing.

Once.

Ever.

December 1986

If Eddie thought his life had been out of control before, it was safe to say that the moment he realized that it was being controlled by some Writer in another universe, it only got worse.

For a few days, there had been a break in the madness.

Well, there were some things that still fucked with Eddie's head.

Some of the posters on his walls were for bands he didn't like, his collection of exclusively DC comics became an array of Marvel titles, and his stash of porn...needless to say it was full of shit he'd never even thought about before.

He still jerked off to it, though. What else was he gonna do? Not jerk off?

But there were no out-of-body feelings, no wacky spectacles in class, no unexpected emergencies. The trailer even stayed clean for a whole week; it was a godsend.

"Does that mean it's all over?" Eddie asked when you'd arrived at his trailer for a night in.

"Unfortunately not," you sighed. "I don't know the ins and outs of it. Sometimes the story proceeds as planned. Sometimes you get long stretches of time where nothing happens. You've heard of Writer's Block? Maybe they're having trouble trying to figure out what's next for us."

"Why don't they just give up?" he huffed. "Leave us alone."

"Would you give up if you were trying to figure out some complicated plot for Hellfire?"

"Yeah, but that's different. It's just DnD. These are our lives that this asshole is playing with."

"And what if, somewhere, Agrithor the Invincible is real and getting mad because Jeff rolled a Nat 1 on a medicine check and now he has dysentery."

Eddie didn't know if he was cranky because you were right, or a little more in love with you because you had been listening to him rant about Hellfire.

"It's a learning curve," you continued. "It gets weird when you start to think of your life like a story someone is writing, waiting for the next thing to happen. Trust me. I learned that the hard way."

"So what should I do? Just go with the flow?"

"You need to, otherwise you start second guessing what's real and what isn't with everything."

"Hmmm..." He tilted his head from side to side considering your words. What's real and what isn't. A loaded statement in this predicament the two of you found yourselves in.

"So let's just enjoy our night in," you said with finality. "What's the plan? Fraggle Rock and fooling around?" You glanced around him to the setup on the coffee table. VHS tapes and cans of soda and a bowl of popcorn.

Eddie felt his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment.

"Speaking of what's real...I, uh, thought it might be fun for us to watch a few episodes of Port Geneva?"

You looked at him like he'd grown a second head; your brows raised in question, mouth dropping open in shock.

"I just...have some questions about things that didn't really make sense," he was quick to explain. "Continuity errors. Who better to ask than someone who was there?"

It took a second, but you broke down into laughter and you threw your hands up in defeat.

"You know what, as long as you order us pizza too, fuck it. Fine! Let's see what all the commotion is about."

That had been the last truly fun night for a little while--

His tapes were paused more than they played because you kept getting up to rant about scenes you disagreed with, or stories that the producers of the show simply got wrong, or key scenes that had been cut altogether.

Every time you'd get up and shout and talk with your hands and point at him to get him to understand...he loved you more and more...

--and Eddie felt bad for not taking advantage of the normalcy for as long as he could.

Because things started getting weird.

First Christmas had come, and it had been a joy.

Munson Christmases were simple affairs. More of a day for hearty food and relaxation than for any traditions or celebrations. You'd of course joined in, along with Granny Ecker, who lamented over Ronnie not being able to come home for the holiday.

Both Granny and Wayne had conspired to get you and Eddie under the mistletoe though, and had ooh'd and ahh'd when your lips met several times over the course of the night.

But Eddie looked forward to New Year's a little more than Christmas; he and the guys typically shot fireworks at the quarry and TP'd all of the jocks' houses in the middle of the night. You'd had similar New Years celebrations with your friends back in Port Geneva, so he figured it would be a treat for you to join them.

Except New Year's Eve never came.

On what was supposed to be the 31st, Eddie slept in, anticipating he'd be up all night with you and the guys. He got his backpack ready with supplies and walked out of his bedroom, only to find Wayne in the kitchen cooking.

"Did we have plans I forgot about?" he asked his uncle.

Wayne crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at him.

"You getting sick, kid?" he asked. "Don't know how you could forget about Christmas."

Christmas?!

"But it's," Eddie scoffed, "it's New Years' Eve."

Wayne opened his mouth to respond when there was a knock at the door, and after a beat, you walked in with several grocery bags in hand.

"Hey guys," you greeted cheerfully. "Merry Christmas!"

Wayne repeated the sentiment and motioned for Eddie to go and help you.

"M-Merry, uh, Christmas sweetheart," he said with heavy sarcasm as he reached your side. You shot Eddie a very pointed stare. "What's going on?"

"Just go with the flow," you muttered to him, leaving no time for explanation before you and Wayne started chatting.

So that's exactly what he did.

And truly, there wasn't anything wrong about having a second Christmas.

You'd baked cookies and he'd helped you decorate them; you kissed icing off the tip of his nose and then he'd serenaded you and Wayne with carols on his guitar while It's a Wonderful Life played in the background. He honestly had so much fun, all of his complaints and questions got put to the wayside

It was the fact that the following day brought yet another Christmas.

"Alright," he demanded when you'd arrived to make popcorn garlands with him. "What the hell is going on?"

"A time loop." You explained. "A request loop, actually. The Writer must have asked for Holiday-themed requests from their readers to get themselves out of their slump. Not the first time I've been through this."

"And everyone chose Christmas?" he scoffed. "Damn, these people are boring. Halloween is the best holiday, obviously!"

"Obviously," you laughed.

"Or April Fool's Day!"

"It must be December in their world too." You cupped his face in your hands. "Listen, request loops suck and they're boring. But trust me, you got lucky that it's just holidays. It could be worse."

So of course it got worse.

Because Eddie Munson could never get so lucky as fate taking it easy on him.

The requests didn't stop with Holidays--although, it had been a nauseating gauntlet of Christmases and Thanksgivings, with one Valentine's Day and a 4th of July thrown in for good measure--they extended to other things too.

Eddie had woken up one morning with the word "faucet" stuck in his head.

No rhyme or reason.

Just "faucet."

He suspected that The Writer had something to do with it, especially as he felt a strange anticipation to interject the word into conversation at some point in the day. Like he was compelled to say it in every sentence and every conversation, but none of them felt right.

Only when Dave had gone to get a drink from the water fountain and had stuck his entire mouth on the spigot did Eddie get any relief.

"Fuck Dave, you don't know how many germs are on that faucet?" he practically gasped as the weight on his chest and his mind finally alleviated.

It happened again a few days later. An insatiable need to talk about "root beer floats" all throughout the day, until the evening when he picked you up for a date.

It had been a great date, sure, but he hated root beer.

Finally, it was the word "alluring." Not one that was usually a part of his vocabulary, but this Writer seemed to want to teach Eddie a lesson by using some fancy word.

This time, the key word was said to you during a steamy make out session on your couch. Eddie's lips traveled down the column of your throat, sucking at your pulse, and he told you how alluring you were. Your moan was delicious, and no matter how true the statement was or how much he wanted to continue, he simply couldn't find the desire to.

The moment felt tainted. All of them did. No matter how funny or sweet or hot they were; the knowledge that he was just a puppet on the Writer's strings was a sour feeling and he just couldn't shake it.

You held him in your arms as he lamented about the lack of control he felt.

"I'm sorry," you whispered into his hair as you rubbed soothing circles over his back and shoulders. "I wish I could make it better. I wish I could make it all go away."

Eddie was just so overcome with emotions and feeling so unlike himself that he asked, "what if you could?"

You paused your movements and strained to look at him, confused.

"What...what do you mean?"

"I don't..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know what I mean."

Yes he did.

The thoughts had begun to form the moment the words exited his mouth, until they were a tempest swirling in his mind.

"Ok," you simply dismissed, and then continued your attentions.

"Actually," he couldn't stop himself then. He pushed himself away from you and stared directly into your eyes. "I...this all started because you came to Hawkins. So maybe...maybe if you tried to leave."

He immediately saw the heartbreak in your eyes, and he knew he fucked up.

"Do you want me to leave?" you questioned softly.

Everything inside of him screamed no. Of course he didn't want you to leave. In fact, he wanted the opposite of that; he wanted you to stay with him forever. He'd been willing to sell his soul to the devil just for the chance to have you, have someone who understood him the way you did.

He was just...so...tired.

So tired in that moment, he could only focus on his own desperation. His own feelings. He hadn't even thought to consider yours.

"I just...have you ever tried to leave?" he wondered. "You said you get in your car and you come to all of these worlds; that's how you travel into these stories. Have you ever tried to get back into your car and leave? Back to Port Geneva?"

"I don't," you shook your head rapidly, hands held up in front of your face as though you were trying to manifest a physical version of the idea just so you could conceptualize it. "I don't even know how I could. Or where I would go? How to get there?"

"You said that there were times when you got to go back."

"But I'd just end up there," you explained. "I've never decided on my own that it was time to go. I don't have a map."

"Maybe that'd be the end of it all," Eddie grabbed your hands in his. "That's the key to breaking the cycle. If you decided that you wanted to leave, if you tried to go home, the Writer would be compelled to give up and our lives could both go back to normal."

Your eyes darted between his, and you calmly repeated the question, "Eddie do you want me to leave?"

He hesitated so you continued.

"You said we were in this together. You said you'd help keep me grounded and I would do the same for you." You took a deep breath and repeated yourself for a third time. "Do you want me to leave?"

It was an eternity of waiting before he finally answered.

"No, of course not." You pulled your gaze away from his, your face crumpling in a way that made his heart ache. "I just figured...it was just an idea. And it couldn't hurt to try."

He tried to talk, tried to explain himself, and went on rambling for minutes on end. He even stood up and started pacing, hands running through his hair anxiously.

He cursed the Writer for doing this to you, cursed the Writer's Block for putting the two of you in this kind of a position in the first place. Cursed the Gods and Devils for making such an inescapable Hell in the first place.

He hoped the more he talked the more you'd see his frustration, his side of things.

Or at the very least, you'd try to fight him. Yell at him. Tell him he was wrong.

But you just nodded along, refusing to look at him.

It's a learning curve, you'd told him.

Because you'd been through this a million times before, lived this nightmarish life that he was now getting to experience for the first time. Shit, you'd even loved people before you'd come here and started having feelings for him.

Loved and lost and left. Whether you wanted to or not.

He thought he'd understood that. You had thought that he thought he'd understood.

But maybe he didn't. If he thought that getting you to go was the magic solution.

He realized, in that second that he stared at you and you stared at the floor, that this life wasn't the only learning curve for him.

And he wasn't the only one with something to learn either.

You both needed to adapt.

It's a learning curve.

He decided, with a soft kiss to the side of your head and a "see you later sweetheart," that it was better to leave and give you both the space to think and adapt, instead of just standing there digging himself into a deeper hole.

It would get better.

It had to.

But who knew what tomorrow would bring?

He was on a stage playing for a crowd of thousands.

It wasn't the biggest venue they played but it was the only sold out show on the tour.

They were all singing along with him, cheering. His friends, his bandmates, surrounding him and supporting him.

The lights were blinding, he was sweating, and his fingers tapped against the fretboard rapidly until it felt like they would bleed.

He played the last few notes of the song and then threw his arm up in the air with a flourish, all to the backdrop of their cheers.

He saw his face on shirts in the crowd, saw his name, heard them chant his name.

"Eddie...Eddie...Eddie..."

He basked in the majesty of it all, so far from his meek beginnings, so far from Hawkins. If he really thought about it, he didn't even feel like himself anymore. He felt like more.

It felt great.

It felt powerful.

And it was everything he ever wanted.

He pulled the earpiece from his ear and spoke into the microphone as Dave and Jeff threw picks into the crowd.

"Thank you guys...you've been great." He laughed as they cheered for him again. "Port Geneva is one of our favorite places to play. It feels like a little bit of home away from home. The best shows, the best crowds. The best food. Anyone else going to Bonnie's after the show?"

There was a roar of applause again.

"Maybe we'll see you there. It's the main reason we keep coming back here. I always get the Number 7 on Rosemary Bread."

There was a lone boo from the pit; he pulled the mike from the stand and took a few steps to the edge of the stage, eyeing the people for the source of said boo.

There was a couple; a handsome, conventional-looking guy with very neatly combed hair, who wore a flannel over a tee from their first tour. And a girl, pretty--main character pretty--with a hand-written poster in her hands...scolding her boyfriend under her breath.

Bingo.

"We don't like hecklers at our show but if you have a better order than mine I think you need to share it with the class," Eddie grinned at them. There was something familiar about the guy...and the girl...he just couldn't place where he'd seen them before. He shook off the feeling. "Come on, I won't bite."

"If you're not getting the Bonnie Special," the guy shouted up at him, "then you're not doing it right."

The crowd around them boo'd but Eddie stopped them.

"No, no," he chuckled. "I like a guy who knows what he wants. Very metal of you man. What's your name?"

"Patrick."

"Nice to meet you Patrick. I'm Eddie." The crowd laughed. "But seriously no Rosemary bread? That's ok. More for me."

He put the earpiece back in and turned back to the guys, ready to do what he did best: keep playing.

---

Once the show was over, he and the guys indeed made a stop at Bonnie's.

The little sandwich shop was overrun with fans wanting to meet them. He shook hands and signed autographs, as people snapped pictures of them at the counter, ordering a veritable feast to-go.

Then when they got their food and Eddie's hunger got to be too great for him to wait anymore, they were sped back to their hotel.

He wished his bandmates and their manager a goodnight before ducking into his room and bolting the door behind him. He took a few steps in and flipped the light switch on.

And there, sprawled out on the bed, was a different sort of feast.

The true object of Eddie's hunger: you.

You in perfectly paired, borderline scandalous lingerie, hair and makeup impeccable, staring at him with a mirroring hunger in your eyes.

"Hey rockstar," you greeted with a predatory grin. "Kept me waiting long enough."

"Wouldn't you believe it," he smirked at you and gestured to the takeout bag in his hand. "They were out of Rosemary bread."

"That's what happens when you shout your order to a crowd of your biggest fans."

"Funny I didn't see you there."

"How else would I know that you told them your sandwich order?" you teased.

"Didn't hear you either."

"I'll scream your name tonight," you batted your lashes at him. "You'll make sure of that, big boy."

Oh yeah, it was always a boost to his ego when he got you to sing for him, scream for him.

He tossed the bag onto the dresser--for later--and then closed the distance so he could devour you.

His lips went straight for your collarbone, hands exploring your curves, eager to make you squeal; meanwhile, you made quick work of his clothes. His belt was gone instantaneously with a sharp snap, your fingers made quick work of the fly of his jeans, then you reached up to shove his jacket from his shoulders.

God, he'd been fantasizing about you for years--knew your body better than he knew his thanks to countless hours wasted on the tapes from the adult section of Family Video--and it had been a surprise to see your familiar face in the pit at that very first show in Port Geneva.

Or maybe a gift from whatever god or devil was out there.

He'd sought you out after the show and it had been instant chemistry. You both couldn't stop fawning over one another, even though it might've been a little bit more awkward on your part. But you certainly weren't shy about it.

"The rockstar and the porn star," you joked as you split that infamous Number 7 at Bonnie's after your first night together. "A real power couple."

But now it was a handful of years later, and that's exactly what you were. Names forever entwined together in gossip magazines and on each others lips--not to mention the lips of every man and woman who wanted to fuck both of you, even though that likelihood was a big fat zero.

Yeah the sex was great, but it was more than that.

It was knowing one another. Caring for one another. Especially when you were both in an industry where there was little-to-none of either of those things at all.

You'd known for a while; Eddie had found out the hard way.

That's what kept him coming back to you, coming back to a small town with a venue barely-big-enough for the band's rising fame.

Because it was your home, and you were Eddie's.

Home.

It was exactly what he thought as you pushed your panties aside and he sunk into you, wet and waiting and oh-so-deliciously tight.

"Fuck," he swore against your mouth, "I missed you."

"M-missed you too," you panted right back, squirming beneath him, waiting for him to move.

Of course, Eddie was an asshole and let you wait. Let you suffer. Shit he let himself suffer, just to savor being this close with you.

He knew once he got started, he wouldn't stop until it was over.

So he'd hold out for that one last little bit, because he knew before long, he'd be leaving home behind once again.

He wasn't a man known for patience though, and before long he began to move.

He bucked into you, kissed you, squeezed you, lavished you with attention until you were one.

It was a crescendo of feelings when he got to have you like this, his lips spilling promises before he spilled himself inside you.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love yo--

Eddie woke up with a gasp, heart racing and a wet spot growing in his boxers.

There was heavy pounding at the side door, someone slamming thier fist against it over and over again.

"Shit," he cursed. "Shit, shit, shit."

He jumped out of bed, and looked down at himself, wincing at the mixture of his embarrassment, his cum-full underwear and his rapidly-softening cock.

"Eddie, it's me," you called through the door and he froze in panic. "I know you just had a wet dream. Can you open up? It's cold out here."

How the hell did you know that?

He waddled out of his room and to the adjacent door and then let you in. You--coat thrown over your pajamas, feet in fuzzy slippers--pushed past him and headed straight for the kitchen.

"We need to talk!" You told him urgently.

"Uh," he called after you. "Can I, uh..." He gestured down at himself.

You pivoted on your heel, and then glanced from his face, down to his crotch.

Your face cycled through an array of warring emotions before it settled on bashfulness.

"Sure," you squeaked. "I'll...uh...make coffee."

Eddie locked himself in the bathroom for several minutes, listening to you bang around in the kitchen as he cleaned himself up and changed.

By the time he walked out, you were sitting at the little table, biting your nails, as two mugs sat in front of you invitingly.

"How did you know about my dream?" he asked immediately as he fell into the seat opposite you.

"Because I had one too," you said in an obvious tone.

He immediately felt his cheeks get hot, and he grabbed the steaming cup of coffee to take a sip, the scalding liquid not nearly as bad as the feelings that burned through him.

"I know...things weren't great last night," you stared once his attention was back on you, "but if shit like that's going to happen--"

"And what exactly was that?"

"That was our Writer finding their inspiration again," you explained. "Probably from one of those pesky requests. For an alternate universe. We can't exactly be...in other places. Yeah sometimes it happens, but when there's already an established world like this one...where I'm here in Hawkins...alternate universes happen in dreams."

"And are they always..." He waved his hand as he looked for the word.

"Pornographic?" The tension between you broke and two of you laughed, all worry melting instantly. "No...not always. But, uh, I guess it doesn't exactly bode well if our Writer found their inspiration for us in that AU."

Eddie swallowed hard and felt his face heat up again, for a different reason this time.

"It wasn't that bad," he muttered and you shook your head at him with a fond chuckle.

"No," you replied. "It wasn't. But, uh, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't see me naked without...I don't know, me being the one to show you."

The realization hit him too, that all of that...was all of that...was that all against both of your wills?

Sort of?

Kind of?

"It's ok," you assured him, seeing the conflict taking over his features. "I, uh...it happens a lot differently for us if either of us didn't actually want to have sex."

"Got it," he nodded, a little relieved that meant you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. But then he paused as he realized the implication...and what that meant for you in the past.

He was about to ask, to check and see if you were ok, but you quickly moved back to the original topic.

"If the Writer has found inspiration again," you began. "That means we need to be on the same page. We need to work together and support each other, because who knows what they have in store for us.

"There are a million types of stories out there. Daring adventures, fluffy romances, angsty heartbreaks. It's a bitch to deal with, honestly. We already know that this Writer wants us together, and they've already thrown wrenches into our relationship. With Steve...and Chrissy...plus the sheer unpredictability, if this dream was anything to go by...it's going to be difficult.

"So you need to be prepared," you said with a tone of finality. "We can't...you can't do what you did earlier. You've gotta keep your cool. There's no escaping this. For either of us. And you can't really fight it, but if you try to, there's definitely ways that it could make things worse for us. There's no way we can stop this until it's over. Until the story this Writer wants to tell is complete."

You reached across the table and covered Eddie's hands with your own.

"I know it's hard and I know it sucks for your world to be turned upside down," you told him gently. "But you need to hold it together. You need to listen to me, trust me. Otherwise there's no telling what might happen."

Your eyes were full of desperation, full of care, and as much as he wanted to question things--question everything--he knew now was not the time or the place.

So he assured you, without a hint of doubt or question in his voice, "I trust you."

Then he turned his hands so your fingers could twine together, and he squeezed.

"And don't worry," he smiled. "You can trust me too."

Next Chapter: Friends to Lovers Coming Soon

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[the-fab-fox]

Okay. So Imma just come out and say it.

Y'all who read fanfic. You. Need. To. Start. Commenting. On. Fics.

I have been told I'm a great writer. I've been told I'm spot-on with characterization. I've been told I'm great at making readers feel and experience what the characters are feeling and experiencing. Been told it's like the reader is in the room as everything plays out.

However, when I see that my fics have upwards of 1K hits and maybe 100-300 comments and maybe 40-100 kudos and not even hitting triple digits in the bookmarks/subscriptions to a fic... Well, what would you think in my shoes?

Most likely, if you're like me, you're thinking all kinds of negative things (especially if you have mental illness/ADHD/neurodivergency of some kind). Stuff like... Oh, those other people are just being nice (not fair to them so I try not to think this way but negative self talk doesn't play nice with me).

Or I think... Okay so they checked it out. They had to click on the fic for it to even register the hit, right? So why don't I at the very least have more kudos? That's the easiest option on there (though it's like a like on here; if you are gonna leave kudos please also leave a comment), right? So what was wrong with my fic that I don't have more kudos at least.

But then I get on here and see so many comments and reblogs on FANART (still not enough for them either though lbr). THE POINT IS... If you read a fic. If you read it and liked it, you all really need to start commenting.

It doesn't even have to be long paragraphs or quoting or any of the ✨ big comments ✨ stuff. You could leave an emoji that be showing me what my fic or update got you feeling. You can do keyboard smash. If the author asks for it, you can leave constructive criticism (but only if the author has actively asked for it; if they haven't or given you permission, then don't). You can absolutely do big comment things too.

One of my favorite type of comments to get are the quoting ones. You just copy/paste and then say what you liked about it or what it made you feel or your reaction to it. Things like that. I love when my readers tell me their fave parts in an update. Or quote a line and tell me their thoughts and feels. Just yes.

We are far too advanced in this day and age and fanfiction and fandom are wholly more accepting than it used to be but for some reason, comments and reactions have become almost non-existent compared to when I was 15. And I was... Pretty cringy in my writing back then but I can admit that. But every chapter I'd get at least 8-10 comments. A chapter!

Even earlier in my Twst series I was getting A LOT more comments and with every fic it seems to have dropped significantly.

To me, to my brain, that tells me that my writing is suddenly sucky or I lost my talent or I'm not actually as great a writer as I was told because then why aren't more people commenting.

You might try to argue and say you're shy. Do you comment on order things? Do you tack onto a reblog to put out some addition to the original post? Do you chat with people in the fandom? Do you comment on fanart?

Then what makes a fanfic any different? (This is not including smut fics because I get but necessarily wanting it tied back to you. But if you open ao3 in a browser you aren't logged into ao3 on, you can (as long as the author has allowed it) post a comment anonymously. Yeah!)

You might say oh well I don't have time to comment right now. But you had time to read the fic? You had time to reblog that shit post? You had time to comment on the tags on a fanart you really loved? Thing is, unless you want to write a long one, comments do not take that long to leave. They really don't.

If you're worried the author doesn't want to hear from you—I'll stop you right there. The author ABSOLUTELY wants to hear from you.

So now is the time to stop making excuses to be lazy. You are reading really great fan literature for free. The least you can do as a thank you and to show support is to COMMENT. ON. THE. FIC.

And if you wanna really make an author's day and help support them and their work, REC the fic. REC the Author's work list. You can do that to friends you know would like it or even better, make a post about the fics and link your recs.

It's really not that hard and we should not have to beg. Realize the blessing you have that fics you would enjoy exist for free and do your part. COMMENT.

[fandom-hoard]

Fanfiction Comments request-

If you wanna leave a comment that's just made up of emojis, can you limit it to like, a row or two of emojis TOPS?

Over 100 rows of emojis is excessive (seriously. I tried counting the rows of this last emoji comment and gave up at 100. And there was plenty more rows to go). It's obnoxious to scroll through at the best of times, and it's not the best of times, it freaks out my phone and I have to scroll through the entire chapter at a snail's pace. And there's no way that's fun for screen readers.

So please, PLEASE, restrain yourself to a couple rows of emojis? Or go with "💖x10000!" if you want! It conveys the same idea!

[scienceoftheidiot]

Tag game for fanfiction authors !

I was tagged by both @the-blue-eyed-firebender and @lassusog, thank you so much to both of you !!

The story you're proudest of: 

I have two in mind, but I will be talking about the other one later, and I want to talk about a finished one. I’m incredibly proud of us, @qs63 and myself, for “My own worst friend and my own closest enemy” (does it surprise anyone that I am the one who chose the title? BTW fun fact, it comes from the same song as my username). I’m proud of us for  writing a four hands fic relatively seamlessly, and managing to get to the end of it in a relatively short time. It was a blast from start to finish, and I’m also glad it seems to still get love a year after we finished publishing. Bonus, it’s still very fun to re-read for me because I only wrote 50% of it so I don’t remember everything and I get surprised every time haha. We managed to make a fic that also delves into character study for both BH and 03 Roy and Riza, and that was INCREDIBLY FUN. Best time. 

Your story that's gotten the most love online:

We don’t talk about failures Murdocks Never Quit in this house so let’s talk about one I’m actually proud of (at least I did learn from my mistakes). Besides, it seems to have gotten that much insane love without me even knowing or being told it so uh. Nevermind. That just couldn't work, could it.

Of course since it’s a very long fic with multiple chapters the one which has received the most love is All the hope (not that people read more long fics but statistically more people are exposed to it thanks to the new chapters updates), which I am very proud and insanely happy about, because at first I wasn’t even planning to publish it. And now I’m gladly on the way to finish this monster of a fic and already planning the second part. Go figure XD but I am so so grateful for everyone who has given a chance to it and for those who keep on reading. Extra bonus for you who leave all these detailed comments at each chapters, all of you, you have no idea how you’ve kept me afloat all year. And kept/keep me writing. All the love for you. Thank you so much. 

Tease a current WIP or idea you're working on: 

I’m already thinking of what I could do once I’m done publishing All the hope, and I have some WIPs lying around. The most developed one has already been partially written, and I’m considering trying to start posting it with a long delay between chapters, to allow me to work on multiple things at once. Not sure it’s a good idea, though. This one, some of my followers might know about, has for working name “1923”, and explores the lives of the Roy and Riza of OUR universe that we don’t get to see in Conqueror of Shamballa. I couldn’t NOT have fun with sending Roy into WW1, I mean, ME. SENDING CHARACTERS INTO WW1? HOW SURPRISING. I even managed to find a historically accurate way to send Riza to war without making a nurse out of her (which. No. No nurse Riza for me, unless you count her nursing Roy back to health)(of course, who do you think I am, you know what I write). There’s of course all the other characters that pop up here and there. And yes of course this is 100% Royai lol (UPDATE : I don't know what possessed me. It's a Royai fic alright. However. There are surprises in it. If I don't mention that I know someone will come and kill me with her bare hands. Lol. Royai with a twist I guess?)

Your top 3 fandoms:

I don’t know if I can count FMA 03 and Brotherhood/manga as different fandoms lol so FMA, Daredevil (comics or show, but they ARE different characters)(I'm more of a comics Matt lover, to everyone's surprise), and Ripper Street (everyone watch Ripper Street please and you will thank me after wanting to kill me). 

Your top 3 ships:

Royai, Havoroyai (didn’t specify I can’t have OT3), Havoroy yes there is a pattern here.

Wait was I supposed to talk about different fandoms? Then Matt/Karen and Edmund/his hat (and anyone who would be willing to give some love to this disaster of a man). 

Rec someone else's fic:

Your Warmth Against My Scars by @lassusog. Just. It’s just so good. Perfect angst, perfect characterisation, and so, so, so good on all parts I just can’t seem to find the words and it makes me insane. Read it if you haven’t already, re-read it if you have, which is what I’m planning to do. 

Pick one!

Fluff or Angst (or both, they gotta earn the fluff)

Oneshots or longfics

Canon compliance or canon divergence

AO3 or FF.net

I tag @qs63, @wellbehaveddolphin, I think all the other royai people have been tagged already ? My memory is Swiss cheese so if you haven't and you see this, please do it. And I'll extend to @mabonetsamhain, @residentdormouse, @littleragondin and @riotbrrrd :)

[goodluckclove]

A Celebration!

So I have memory issues.

It's for a lot of reasons that I won't get into here, it's really not a big deal. But it plays a fun part in the way I form relationships, especially relationships online. To put it simply, I can no longer really remember how I met @mercuryytheraven. I think I made some post asking people to tell me what's keeping them from writing and challenging them to allow me to fix it. We spoke for maybe thirty minutes, and I remember them saying that they were working on a Warrior Cat's fan fiction, which tickled me because I didn't know people still read those books.

They essentially said that they've been trying to write for some time, but no matter what they did they could never get past around 100 words. Something always got in the way. If I'm being honest, I don't remember what I told them, but it must've been insightful because they've been messaging me almost daily ever since.

Eventually my brain just accepted the presence of this bright, dandelion-fluff of a human being. I would look at my phone and say oh hey, it's them again. I would tell my wife about their exploits and we would remember what it was like to be young and even more confused than we are on a daily basis. Quietly, and I have never told them this, but I started calling them my protege. I don't know if that's arrogant or not.

Mercury is such a treasure of spirit. All it takes is one conversation to see the depth of color they carry within them. They care so deeply and about so many things, a quality hard to find in a world so preoccupied with cynicism and meta post-irony. Not only are they already an insightful and deeply curious writer, they are also an incredibly skilled visual artist. I questioned the validity of the high standards they held themselves to again and again - but then I told myself that I once did the same thing.

When I met Mercury they said they never wrote more than 100 words. That was less than a month ago. Today they just finished the first chapter of the Warrior Cats fanfiction they've been brewing for years. It's just over 3500 words.

Friend, do you know how remarkable that is? Can you imagine that big a breakthrough? I cannot stress enough that this is an immense achievement - not unbelievable, very believable, but hard. Worthy of accolades. Worthy of relishing in!

One chapter is never just one chapter. It's the creation of something foundational that didn't exist before. It doesn't matter if it's a fluffy fanfic one shot or literary novel or long-form au or pulp genre shlock. It wasn't here before and now it is and that is one of the most wonderful things in the world to me.

You might know me as someone against the general romanticization of The Writer as an archetype, but it's moments like these that truly call that stance into question. Because what @mercuryytheraven did today, and what many of you do whenever you can, is truly a precious sacrament. It is ritualistic in nature, a human sacrifice where we are the blood offering and the result is a story birthed from our own transfer of matter.

It is beautiful. So please, if you can, send some congratulations in the direction of our friend and colleague. And the next time you reach a milestone you feel is too small to be remarkable, know that you're wrong. You're doing something special for yourself and those around you with every single word you write, whenever you can write it.

So go write it!

[sevendeadlywhispers]

7Seals

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Chapter 11*

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Ten

•Next Chapter: Chapter Twelve

• Chapter List

• New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

• Word Count: 2.5k

• Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter. This chapter does contain themes of abuse. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that topic.

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Decode - Paramore

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↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

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Levi's Perspective

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"Can you slow down?" Her irritating voice echoed behind me as we navigated the halls.

"No," I snapped, rolling my eyes.

"Did you forget my rib is broken?" She complained, footsteps hastening.

"Weren't you just blabbering about being good in two weeks?" I retorted, annoyed.

"Yeah, two weeks. Not today," she groaned.

"I don't care. Hurry up," I barked. Erwin better be in his damn office, or this could turn into a colossal waste of my time. I didn't want to chance it being too late.

"Too late for what?" She said, running beside me while clutching her stomach.

Damn it, did I say that out loud?

"Nothing. Just keep going."

I've stared at that smug face countless times and never once noticed anything unusual.

If he's genuinely from the underground, how the hell did he surface? There's a reason for his secrecy, but why does Iris know? Is she in cahoots with him? Is she just his pawn?

"Erwin," I grunted, opening the door to his office.

"A firm knock works well, Levi," Erwin said, seated at his desk, the fire casting eerie shadows as he stood up. "Greetings, Iris."

"Alexander is from the underground," I declared to Erwin, cutting through the pleasantries. No need for useless banter; I wasn't here for amusement. Damn it, I had better things to do. But instead I had to involve myself with these shitheads.

Erwin's fake smile faded instantly, and his focus shifted to Iris.

"Is this true?" Erwin's stern question hung in the air.

"Yes, sir," Iris answered him.

"This changes things," I muttered, eyes narrowing at the unfolding situation.

"Drastically," Erwin replied, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his office window.

"Then I'm guessing you haven't heard the news yet?"

"What news?" I questioned, a wave of confusion washing over me.

What the hell did I miss while I was away? If it was crucial, someone should have tracked me down.

"Two more scouts were found dead this morning," Erwin dropped the bombshell. "Throats slit."

"What time?" I demanded. "How come no one notified me?"

"Sometime around noon. I sent someone to your office as soon as I found out," Erwin informed me.

"Wait, what?" Iris interjected, but both Erwin and I ignored her.

"You think it's connected?" I asked, suspicion creeping in.

"Both missing ODM gear. Just like last time," Erwin disclosed, turning to Iris once again. "Where was Alexander this morning?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, her gaze flickering between Erwin and me.

"Where were you around noon?" Erwin pressed.

"I- I don't really know," she stuttered again. "I was training, and then I got hurt."

"Bullshit," I cut in, crossing my arms. She had been out of my sight for an hour today. "Recall everything you did—every person you interacted with, down to how you took a damn shit. Don't leave a single detail out."

"You were with me all morning," she protested, but her words fell on deaf ears.

"Except twice," Erwin said. "When you arrived and left my office. I timed you on your arrival; your departure, I'm unaware of."

"I went straight back and forth. No detours," Iris insisted, her eyes reddening with confusion.

"I find that hard to believe," I countered, fixing her with a piercing gaze.

"Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?" Iris demanded, irritation etched across her face.

Erwin and I exchanged a glance before turning our attention back to the increasingly frustrated girl. Her once-bright jade eyes now betrayed a mix of anger and something more elusive. Was she truly in the dark, or was she playing the fool? Her eyes held secrets.

"Stop playing dumb," I groaned at her. "We both know you didn't break your rib during practice." She moved closer, anger evident but an underlying fear betrayed by her eyes.

"I'm not playing dumb, Captain," she gritted through her teeth.

I stepped even closer, looming over her. Her newfound courage amused me, and a smirk threatened to escape.

"Watch yourself, cadet," I warned, relishing the moment. "Wouldn't want to end up with another broken rib."

"Stand down," Erwin's voice commanded, but she didn't yield. Iris stood defiantly, her angered eyes locked onto mine.

She was a stubborn brat if I'd ever seen one.

"Both of you," Erwin repeated. I shot a disapproving look at Erwin. Being kind won't get anything out of this girl. She's too damn stubborn. I stepped back, and Iris finally followed suit.

"Iris," Erwin addressed her. "How did you manage to break your rib?"

"I fell last night," she claimed.

"Stop fucking lying," I snapped at her. "How did you break your rib?"

Before she could answer, the door burst open, and Hange came running in.

"Commander!" they yelled, scanning the room. "Levi! Iris! I haven't seen you two in a while. What are you guys doing here?"

Getting distracted once again. Classic Hange.

"Hange," Erwin reminded them.

"Oh, right!" they said, saluting Erwin. "Two out of the three MPs have been arrested. We can't locate the other one at the moment, but—"

Erwin cut them off. "I'm afraid we won't catch the other anytime soon, assuming they're already alerted and planning to flee."

"What were their names?" I asked. Out of the four people I saw in the underground with Alexander, I needed to know who they caught.

"Officers Jinshi and Raymond have been apprehended," Hange said. "Carter is still on the loose."

"The woman? You let her go?" I said, frustration lacing my words. Who was she? Why has no one seen her before?

"We have no idea who she is. All we have is your description," Hange said.

It infuriated me. Loose ends. Always damn loose ends. I turned to Erwin. "What's our next move?"

Erwin's gaze met mine, a storm brewing in those blue eyes. "We need to find Alexander."

Hange chimed in, "And we're looking into more possible connections between the MPs and the underground activities."

I clenched my fists, a heavy feeling settling in my gut. This tangled web was getting more complex by the minute, and I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Alexander knew more than he let on. Just how much though? At what cost?

I need to keep an eye on Iris. Whether she was a pawn or a player, she held answers, and I intended to find them.

"Iris," Erwin said sternly. "Do you recognize the names we spoke?"

A heavy silence settled in the room. Why the hell is she silent now?

My fist slammed down on the table, demanding a response.

"Fucking answer," I barked at her. I watched her flinch, throwing a hand over her face.

"Levi," Erwin's voice warned.

"Yes," her voice quivered. "They were all best friends in training. Alexander sees them whenever he goes to Wall Sina."

"Very good. Thank you," Erwin acknowledged. "When was the last time he went to Wall Sina?"

"Last night, I think," she mumbled.

Last night? Alexander was in the damn underground, not Wall Sina. Is this another layer of his deceit? Why does she persist in lying to us? What the hell is she gaining from this?

I couldn't shake the feeling that Iris was entangled in a complex web of deception. Her hesitant responses and half-truths hinted at deeper involvement. The stakes were climbing, and I needed to unravel the truth before the whole damn thing tightened around us.

"Stop fucking lying," I bellowed, my face inches from hers. She stubbornly kept her eyes shut, a futile attempt to shield herself from the reality she couldn't escape.

"Levi," Hange's voice rose in protest.

"Levi, that's enough," Erwin's command cut through the tension, his grip on my shoulder pulling me away forcefully. But my frustration burned hotter than ever.

"Someone please. Tell me what's going on," she pleaded, her tears now a torrential stream. Fingers tangled in her unruly hair, she seemed to be unraveling.

"We have good reason to believe Alexander is a black market dealer in the underground. He's been stealing our equipment. We heightened security, but four Scouts have been murdered, ODM gear stolen," Erwin calmly laid out the damning truth.

Her tears hesitated, suspended in the air. Then, a violent shake of her head denied the allegations. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her stomach. Each sob seemed to echo the weight of the revelations, a heavy burden she couldn't bear.

"Please, Aldridge," Erwin pleaded, desperation lining his voice, but she disregarded it, storming out of the room with a slammed door punctuating her exit. The haunting echo lingered, amplifying the weight of the truth left unspoken.

This woman is nothing but trouble. I tried to follow her, but Erwin's firm grip on my arm halted my pursuit.

"Let her go, Levi," he urged, a knowing look in his eyes.

"What? Why? She's just going straight to Alexander," I protested, my frustration mounting.

"Exactly. She will learn the truth from him. She doesn't believe us now, but she will later," Erwin calmly asserted, a master strategist contemplating the next move.

"Don't tell me you bought that whole show she put on," I grumbled, unconvinced.

"It's obvious she doesn't know," Hange added. "You were way too hard on her."

"I was the only one being reasonable," I insisted, my determination clashing with their reassurances.

"You were being ridiculous," Erwin retorted, his calm demeanor rubbed against the storm brewing within me.

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"So, you just want us to wait here?" I grumbled at Erwin, my impatience bubbling beneath the surface.

"Precisely," he responded, a maddening calmness in his voice. We lingered outside Alexander's door, the hushed whispers within taunting us. Waiting felt like a pathetic charade. Why not just barge in?

Erwin rested his hand on my shoulder, leaning in to share his annoying pearls of wisdom.

"What do you hear? Is it cordial or insincere? Listen to her voice."

I shot him a disdainful look. What difference did it make? Yet, he urged me forward, pushing me to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Against the door, I strained to capture the unfolding drama. Erwin's method felt like a futile exercise in patience, but I complied.

"Just get your shit and let's go," Alexander's whisper cut through.

"No," Iris's voice, defiant and resolute, fought back. "I have something going for me here. You might not, but I do. I don't want any part of whatever the hell you are doing."

A sharp smack resonated through the door, followed by an ominous stumble.

"You stupid bitch," he snarled. "You thought I was giving you a choice? We are leaving."

The words hung in the air like an impending storm, and I could sense that beneath the surface, a tempest was brewing—one that threatened to shatter the fragile peace we clung to.

"No." Her voice, a sharp blade cutting through the air, declared defiance. "I am not going with you. You don't get to dictate my life anymore. I'm done."

The room hung suspended in silence, pregnant with tension. What dark theater of conflict played out behind that door? She was never a willing participant in his malevolent schemes; she was just the unintended casualty in his twisted narrative.

"Ow! You fucking bitch!" Alexander's enraged outburst reverberated, accompanied by the unsettling sound of coughing. Whose desperate breaths were those? The uncertainty clawed at me as chaos erupted within the room—objects crashing, glass shattering. Did he lay his hands on her?

Glancing at Erwin, I sought answers in his eyes, but he signaled restraint. The inexplicable scene played out, leaving me seething with restrained fury.

"Explain to me what's happening?" Erwin demanded, urgency coloring his tone.

"She's—" I began, struggling to articulate the storm of emotions.

"Calm down, Levi. Tell me what's going on in there. Clear your head," Erwin directed.

"He's- fuck- they're arguing," I gritted out. "She's just a puppet."

The door handle jiggled ominously. Erwin motioned us into the shadows of another hall, leaving me with a simmering frustration. Why the hesitation? Why not seize them now? Unanswered questions lingered, intensifying the enigmatic spectacle unfolding before us.

"Come on, you stupid bitch," Alexander spat, dragging Iris down the dimly lit hallway. My irritation flared, and I sidestepped Erwin, positioning myself to observe the twisted spectacle. Alexander, with his hand firmly on her neck and the other cruelly manipulating her left arm, appeared to have picked up a trick or two from my own repertoire. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Iris abruptly halted, locking eyes with Alexander. Tears streamed down her face, the terror etched into every quivering fiber. She didn't want to go.

"What do you think you're doing?" Alexander's anger reverberated through the corridor.

In a surge of defiance, Iris shoulder-checked Alexander, breaking free momentarily. However, her escape was short-lived as Alexander swiftly reined her in. Her desperate cries echoed, a haunting soundtrack to the scene unfolding.

"Be fucking quiet," he snarled, muffling her protests with a callous hand over her mouth. Against the cold, unforgiving wall, she became a mere pawn in his relentless game.

I shot a glance back at Erwin, once again waiting for his signal, but his eyes still signaled restraint. We remained concealed in the shadows, silent witnesses to this grim scene.

"You're a witness," Alexander hissed, his words dripping with malevolence. "You're coming with me. Be a good little whore and work for me."

Her face twisted in agony, each word from his venomous lips tightening his grip around her fragile throat.

"You'll fetch me a good sum. Perhaps your pretty boy will join you in the brothel. If you're lucky, he won't even recognize that face after I'm through."

The glimmer in her eyes faded, replaced by an all-encompassing fear that resonated with a primal part of me. Her desperate gaze sought mine, and a surge of raw fury coursed through my veins, urging me to intervene.

Before I could act, he heartlessly flung her to the cold floor, a swift kick targeting the already fractured ribs. Rage boiled within me, a visceral need to tear him away from her.

Emerging from the shadows, I confronted him, a tempest of red consuming my vision. Each punch was a declaration of my disdain, the muffled symphony of blows echoing the violence of the moment.

As hands yanked me back, a red curtain descended, obscuring the world. I pushed against the unseen barrier, my determination unwavering.

"Levi, breathe," Erwin's voice sliced through the frenzy, a grounding force against the crimson tide. The brick wall met my back as his firm arm pressed into my chest, a stark reminder of the brutal reality unfolding.

Amidst the echoes of Iris's slow sobs, a tempest of fury churned within me, yearning for Alexander's demise. I envisioned my fists soaked in his blood, relishing the sweet symphony of his final gasps. The desire for his death consumed me entirely.

Erwin's piercing gaze attempted to anchor me, his blue eyes reflecting my simmering rage. But indifference shrouded my senses; all I craved was the end of Alexander.

"Iris?" The name tumbled from my lips like an unbidden plea.

On the floor, Iris clung to her tormentor, her sobs intertwining with the chilling aftermath. Hange measured Alexander's pulse, while Miche struggled to detach Iris from the gruesome scene.

"Her ribs. Don't hold her like that."

"She needs medical," urgency coated my words, slicing through the suffocating tension. "Now."

Erwin sought to tether me against the wall, assuring medical attention for Iris. Disregarding his restraint, I surged toward her. Her labored breaths and the shift from fear to pain in her gaze compelled me to act. As I knelt beside her, an unsettling question lingered—

why was I entangled in the web of saving her?

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

[azure-firecracker]

X-Files Masterpost

This post will be a central location where y’all can locate all of the X-Files content I make on this blog. Hopefully it makes it easier for things to be found! The goal is to update semi-regularly, but it will not always be 100% up to date. Also bear in mind that I am a first-time watcher, so please refer to my most recent posts if you want to know where I am in the show. I hope this is helpful!

My favorite thing about this fandom is how friendly y’all are, so please feel free to come to me with questions about any of my TXF stuff, fic or meta requests, random asks, or anything at all:)

My X-Files Fanfic

I have a general rule of not replying to comments for mental health reasons, but if you read these, know that I cherish every single comment and they often make my day, so please consider commenting if you enjoy:)

Beneath the Ice, Beneath My Skin (Teen and Up, 9,984 words): My first fic! An alternate version of Ice where Mulder is actually infected by the parasites. Paranoia and tension ensue!

Flight and Sanctuary (Teen and Up, 6,656 words): Scully and Mulder deal with the aftermath of Irresistible. Lots of angst, lots of worry, lots of hurt/comfort. As of the creation of this post, this is my most popular fic.

(And FANART! By @scullysmywife ! Yippee!)

Salvation (Teen and Up, 7,599 words): Mulder’s perspective during his missing scenes in The Erlenmeyer Flask, followed by how he and Scully cope with the trauma. Very angsty featuring some torture. 2 chapters: one during the episode, one after. The chapters can be read individually or together.

Save Me from the Fire (Teen and Up, 5,672 words): An alternate version of Our Town where Mulder and Scully switch places. Very tense, but also very heartfelt and tender (I hope). A personal favorite of mine.

Piece Me Together (General Audiences, 3,147 words): Scully takes care of Mulder post-731. Introspection and moments of extreme proximity ensue. Probably the most introspection-heavy fic I’ve written.

Caught on Tape (Teen and Up, 4,044 words): Scully finds tapes that Mulder made for her while she was abducted. Very emotional, almost pure angst with a bittersweet ending.

Raise Your Voices (Teen and Up, WIP): My ongoing multi-chapter fic in which Mulder and Scully go undercover in a community choir. Set in Season 2, featuring lots of fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, and little tidbits about folk music from all corners of the world.

(And FANART! By the amazing @scullysmywife !)

Fic Rec Roundup (Seasons 1-3): Favorite fics I’ve read.

My Season Reviews

Season 1

Season 2

Season 3

Individual Episode Takes

Deep Throat

Irresistible

End Game

Anasazi

Syzygy

Wetwired

Memento Mori

Small Potatoes

Meta

Mulder + Scully + Saving Each Other

Intelligence Comparison

Mulder + Scully + Needing Saving

Season 2 Abduction Arc

The Problem with Season 2

Conversation on the Rock

What they Need to Hear: Irresistible vs. Teliko

Polls

Are You More Like Mulder or Scully?

Favorite Season

Hyperspecific Poll (X-Files Edition!)

TXF x Songs

MSR x Gracie Abrams Songs

MSR x Billie Eilish

Miscellaneous

Mulder + Scully being lousy at their jobs ( +Addendum)

Acknowledging Scully + Mulder’s good agent-ing in Season 1

Fanfiction Writers Made TXF

Why I love MSR

X-Files Episode Locations Game

My Camp Roommate’s Reaction to TXF

Criticizing the Score (+ Accompanying Meme)

Scully the “Rational One”

X-Files Ask Game

[chronically-ghosted]

i am chronically ghosted . . . except by you all! All 100 of you! 🤍

the little things are so important to me so i wanted to say thank you to you all for getting me to this mini-milestone of 100 followers! i started this blog exactly ten (yes 10!!) days ago as a way to write more freely about my Ped-rangement and reblog every single gifset of Dieter Bravo at least twenty times. Never in the world would i have expected such a positive response!

i've met some truly incredible people because of this blog and I honestly can say my life is better with you in it.

Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who's ever reblogged, liked, or left a comment on one of my fics. I really do read every single one and when i'm done, i fold them up and put them near my heart 🤍🤍🤍

to say thank you, i'm doing a little celebration for anyone who wants to participate:

psychography: writing while haunted! pick a pedro boy of your choosing and a prompt from this list and i'll write a little drabble! (please specify if you'd like smut to be present or not!)

[i'll be accepting prompts between now and sept. 4]

séance: hold hands and speak into the beyond! send me an ask from one of these questions, or anything else you'd like to know!

ectoplasm: exercise the manifestation of spirits! send me a pedro boy and i'll share of my favorite fics of them - love love love gushing about other authors!

ouji board: the spirit moves the board - not you! i'll make a moodboard or icon of any pedro boy of your choosing!

this week i post the FINAL chapter of recovery road! i can't believe we're almost done! 😭 i'm so excited for you all to see how natalie and dieter's story ends!

after the last chapter goes live, i'm going to take a break from series for a bit and focus on smaller works, including oneshots or requests!

and if you're seeing this and you're very confused, i write fanfiction for pedro pascal characters! Here's my masterlist and if you like what you see, feel free to sign up for my taglist so you know when i post things!

part of what i love the most about fandom is the community, so as part of this i wanna call out some blogs who kick a large amount of ass 🤍

@suzdin @butchmandalorian @kteague (this blog is like 90% the cause of my pedr-ovtion) @gracie7209 @trulybetty @northernwindd @dilf-din @gnpwdrnwhiskey @sp00kymulderr @daddy-dins-girl @theywhowriteandknowthings

[maenoakasuna]

𝒜𝓃 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓈𝑒 - Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction

Hello Tumblr people ! I'm Maee and this is gonna be my first Hazbin Hotel Fanfction. I speak french and English so of course for here I gonna do all the post in english, but will publish a French and English version of this Fanfiction. I writhed...back in the days when I Had... 16 so... 10 years ago ( yeah Im old I know. Lol)

So I will let you a Small discription of what's gonna be the idea of my fiction so far. I sadly not had plan a End yet so it gonna be a surprise even for me !

It's the first time i actually writh stuff in English. Normaly i'm 100% french cause im better with it and dont feel like a 6 years old kid who just try ti writh. So please be nice if you see mistakes. Pwease. Also my fiction gonna be edit by my roomate for the english version. She's way better than me.

Yeah if will countain M A T U R E stuff cause... it's Hazin/Helluva world. Sinners everywhere so that just make sens for me. So there you go with the little resum I have here ;

''Dagger arrived in Hell some weeks ago, confuse, with memory lost. She understand really quickly that she was dead and in hell, but she can't remember why, but see this as a second chance in life, so she go to the hazbin Hotel to ask for help. Not to be redeam, at least, not yet, but more to know where she can find a work or even a place to stay. At first, everyone was confuse cause of her angelic looking, but turn out she's really a demon.

In this new life, Dagger gonna feel many new emotions, even some she never felt when she was alive. She will aslo allow herself to be her true self. Not just some pretty docile little girl everyone wanted her to be. She will find out she have more power then she traught. Between friendship, love, abuse, murder, powertrip, debauchery, Dagger gonna find out why she arrived in hell and the answer will maybe not please her... ''

ENGLISH : Chapter 0 - Chapiter One ( In correction ) - Chapter Two ( WIP )

FRANCAIS : Prologue - Chapitre Un - Chapitre Deux ( WIP )

[highlordofkrypton]

so I saw your post about entitlement in fandom spaces and I have a (genuine) question for you. I've been thinking about learning how to bind books in order to have a physical copy of some of my favorite fics (if I got the author's permission). My intention is 100% "make a single copy, keep it for myself." Now I'm worried that doing so would be disrespectful, especially since one of the fics frequently misspells one character's name and I was considering changing it to the correct spelling before making the book. Is the book-making itself the problem, or just the mass production and sale? Would it be appropriate to ask the author for permission, or is it presumptuous/insulting to even bring it up? I think it would be really really cool to make my own physical copy, but good fandom etiquette > make cool book

Hi! Of course, I'm happy to help however I can.

The issue with my post was more about the scope of the changes; I think any author would be fine with correcting typos, especially at the typesetting stage. I know that I'm relieved to catch my own typos in my fics. In the groups I'm in, people were openly admitting to 'changing formatting and sentence structures', or even entire paragraphs, so that the section makes more sense to them in their brain/preferred writing style.

For me, I format my certain elements, especially 'thoughts' in my fics a particular way to drive impact on the reader and to take that way would be diminishing. I admit it's a bit different, and some readers might not like it, but at the end of the day, it's the author's vision. You wouldn't find a piece of art and then edit it to your liking -- that's not okay.

So, short answer, correcting mispellings or say, weird additional spaces between periods and words, that's fine. It's like proofreading vs. editing.

The mass production and sale is the problem, yes. Even if you're making one book to sell, you cannot sell fanfiction.

Lastly, I think it's the polite thing to do to ask the author permission. Most of them will be flattered that you love their fic enough to bind, and they are generally okay with personal binds. Some authors might not be comfortable, but I think they'd appreciate you asking at all. So, yeah, definitely ask!

Bookbinding is an amazing hobby, and I think it's a unique way to participate in fandom. You can connect with authors and artists (for cover or chapter art), and share your creation withe community. I highly encourage it and please go ahead!

I hope this helps and don't be shy to reach out with other questions.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pinned Fanfiction Post! Updated 9/10/24.

Psst… there's a way to support my writing now (and thank you Kraiva, Som, Charlie, Flamia, Bree, and more who encouraged me to do it).

Fandoms:

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent (Podcast)

Deviser (Podcast)

I'm bad at updating this, my apologies! It's all on AO3, folks.

Latest:

The Magnus Archives

"T" IS FOR TOMB - a bittersweet sad post-TMA one-shot AO3 || Tumblr

Malevolent

SHERWOOD FOREST - a ridiculous one-shot, complete and total nonsense. Mild spoilers for the last released part. AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives x Malevolent

CORRUPTED, chapter 24: Fogged. A Tim Stoker x The King in Yellow weird romance because I am strange. AO3 || Tumblr

Loads of Surrogate updates, as per usual. :) The last few:

Like Father - Faroe makes a dangerous decision

Message Received - Kayne bitching because we were too busy to write

Strained - the beginning of fallout from Faroe's choices.

Nightingale - Something with Arthur is very, very wrong.

FINISHED FICS:

(This needs some serious revision! For now, be sure to check my AO3 profile until I get this part cleaned up.)

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

AND EAT IT, TOO

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend? It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not. Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

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A THOUSAND WORDS

It’s coming, Jon. You know something is; something that itches, that nags, that hides just out of view. Our glorious future is coming.

AO3 || Tumblr ----------

QUIT

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at. The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion. If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

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TULIPS IN SPRING

Martin crawled back into bed like he’d crawled through the burned-flesh hole in his heart, and knew he still loved Jon. Martin knew Jon loved him, too. Jon had thrown away godhood for him, like it hadn’t mattered. Maybe it hadn’t.Jon loved him, and that meant they could fix this.All Jon had to do was wake up.

AO3 || Tumblr

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CRUCIBLE

Martin's been having dreams.He doesn't understand them. Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered. But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks. Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

AO3 || Tumblr

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INSTANT NOODLES (crack fic)

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast. There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end. Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be. Written because I wanted Jonah to suffer.

AO3 || Tumblr

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SHORT STORIES FOR TMA APPRECIATION WEEK, 2023

Just what it says on the tin. Silliness, angst, and crossovers incoming.

AO3

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THIS DARK THING THAT SLEEPS IN ME - Rusty Quill Big Bang 2023

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead. Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe. In a world where the End won and Jonah Magnus is its Heart, the cycle of death and rebirth is a given: no one lives past thirty, the Other Fears scramble for scraps, and any infant without an Alignment—called Uncertain—has until the age of ten to be claimed, or they are sacrificed. Jon, an Uncertain child, knows things he shouldn’t, has memories he shouldn’t, and also has a purpose: apparently, he’s been called to do what no Aligned person can do and stop Jonah. Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the right one. Jonah broke the promises he made to take over the world, and Jon is here to make it right. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?” ― Sylvia Plath

AO3

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MAGNUS ARCHIVES x MALEVOLENT CROSSOVER

I PREFER MY HEART TO BE BROKEN

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know. He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough. Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

AO3 | Tumblr

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MALEVOLENT (PODCAST)

WRONG - spoilers for part 43

There is a thread where it all went wrong. Where Arthur, lost, has lost his hope. Where John makes a choice to teach Arthur what it means to be human.

AO3 || Tumblr

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

HERETIC- an Oscar one-shot:

What road remains for a man whose purpose abandoned him?

AO3 | Tumblr

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

Blood and Sand:

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back. It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened. John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it. But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived. Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

AO3 || Tumblr

They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks (Intermezzo spoilers):

Not much surprises Kayne anymore. A melting Arthur manages.

AO3 || Tumblr

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All that Glitters (crack-fic one-shot):

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

AO3 || Tumblr

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Fragile (Intermezzo spoilers):

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won. John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

AO3 || Tumblr

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Double the Popcorn (Intermezzo spoilers):

You think there’s anyone I haven’t seen? Fucked around with? Followed? You think there isn’t a version of you I haven’t tweaked to be the very d-d-darkest you could be, with flesh in your fingernails and blood in your cheeks like a really fucked-up squirrel? I. Have tried. Them all. And pal… they don’t fucking work.

AO3 || Tumblr

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God of Cowboys and Fools:

Well. No time like the present. “I am the King in Yellow, and you are now my slave,” I tell him, because that is the truth and we might as well get it done. He is a god, awakened in the crater of his birth. Somewhere out there is the Wizard he needs to ensure his misplaced immortality. Now, if only the Wizard would just do as he was told instead of fighting back, they could get on with the business of living forever.

AO3 || Tumblr

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SACRAMENT - an Oscar one-shot

Arthur and John are long gone from Oscar's life, and whatever they did has left more than one wound in the world. Oscar's is obvious. Scratch's is not. Oscar certainly hadn't planned on encountering the malevolent spirit ever again, but now that he has, he faces a choice.

AO3 || Tumblr

----

BOYO

Warning: this is a dark fic. I liked me boyo’s anger, and he was just scuttered enough to make this work. To join me hitting the prop, and hitting too much. To not know when it was time to stop, and to follow my lead as we went far beyond. Wasn’t quite perfect. Didn’t have the rhythm yet. But I knew he’d get it; musical lad, or I’m a whaler, and I’d get him singing my tune. The fool died, and my boyo stood there, panting, blood everywhere, and hit the body again just because. Fuckin’ beautiful, that was to see.

AO3 || Tumblr

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THE INCIDENT - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground. And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell.

AO3 || Tumblr

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TRY, TRY AGAIN - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

The King in Yellow worked for a month to get Arthur to spill the information he wanted. Eventually, he got what he wanted through a made-up Bostonian, Adam Fry. What happened in the month before Arthur woke?

AO3 || Tumblr

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CONFESSION

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot

AO3 || Tumblr

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PEDANTIC

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind, with a rare genetic condition that can’t be fixed. The looming depression is bad. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t create anymore. Arthur nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new. Great, right? Now, if only this John Doe weren’t clearly hiding something so wild that not even PI Parker Yang can dig it out….

AO3 || Tumblr

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PET

Arthur loses John. Hastur loses Arthur. Yellow does not deserve what happens here.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

AO3 || Tumblr

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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Angst warning Things happen when we age. Unavoidable things. Until death do we part.

AO3

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CLOUD CITY - MALEVOLENT BIG BANG 2023

The sun never rises in Cloud City. Owned by distant gods, the world creaks along in techno-magical paralysis, making Contracts with spirits, and limping along in isolated enclaves while monsters run wild in the Wastes. Five years ago, Arthur Lester, a private investigator, made a Contract with a Summon called Hastur. The deal? His soul in exchange for the identity of his daughter's murderer. Until the time Arthur's soul is ripe for harvesting, Hastur will give him power, and eventually must find Faroe's killer. If he doesn't, they both die, so failure is not an option. Hastur, however, is not a normal Summon... and it turns out he's come here and chosen Arthur in order to stop a threat that will destroy the entire universe if it succeeds. Unfortunately, humans aren't meant to channel power like Hastur's, and Arthur's body is beginning to break down. It's a race against time to solve Faroe's murder and stop the incoming threat before he simply drops dead.

AO3 || Tumblr

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YELLOW CITY - A CONTINUATION OF CLOUD CITY

Arthur Lester has been taken by the King into the Dreamlands. Arthur Lester has gone quite mad. As promised, Arthur will suffer… but his presence will have a bigger effect on the future of Earth than anyone planned.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

AO3 || Tumblr

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THE BIRTHDAY SONG

Very much post-canon. Very much fluff. John has a body. Arthur has his sight. They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday. It's all fluff from here, folks.

AO3 || Tumblr

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WORTH THE PRICE OF A BOTTLE OF POP

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

AO3 || Tumblr

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FIVE TIMES JOHN WANTED TO SEE A MOVIE, AND ONE TIME KAYNE MADE IT SUCK

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

AO3 || Tumblr

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SURROGATE

The beginning of the series, Surrogate: The Director's cut.

The King in Yellow has a plan. The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken. The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all. It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

AO3 || Tumblr

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DEVISER (PODCAST)

DEVIL

Dad knew he'd failed with humans. Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

AO3 || Tumblr

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RED

Son likes painting. Son likes red.It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for. He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

AO3 || Tumblr