albingranaas

[reginrokkr]

Plops here in time for the afterparty of the 4.1 livestream to say Furina, step down and gib Neuvi the crown please and thank you. Just kidding, the trailer does look pretty dope and I love how much relevance this man has to the whole story and how emotional what I assume to be his character quest seems to be. The intrigue about what he is exactly for him to be born from calamity skyrocketed ngl. Also the freemos. Those will be good to get him and his weapon!

[the-everqueen]

...

[beenovel]

Anyway last week my professor told the class "coworkers will put up with poor technical skills but they won't put up with weird" and after class I just went and sat in my car and cried bc how am I supposed to survive if I still don't seem "normal" even though I've been doing behavioral therapy since first grade but masking hurts so goddamn bad that I'm only doing two classes a week rn but I'm still falling apart and barely functioning every day and barely getting my work turned in bc i come home from class and collapse for days at a time and its just not fair, its not fair, why do other people get to be the normal, why do jobs get to be easy for other people, why are 66% of autistics unemployed/underemployed its not FAIR

[ane-doodles]

Hello! Love your multiple Lambs and your artstyle! You, me, @poppy-purpura, and @agnusloomis are the only ones I know of currently with multiple Lambs. Tell me of your Sorrow and Fondness Lamb, and also the Showman. How did those two come to be? Drink water plenty. May a kind week grace you.

Yayayaya! At first I tried to resist having so many AUs... but in the end it's something that makes me happy, even if I'm not able to write/draw a good story for everyone in the end.

Oh yes rambling time LETS GO!! (notice that a LONG post is coming)

Suemy (Fondness & Sorrows AU) This is born from a kind of "What if" from Chain for a promise, in which instead of Avana being the last lamb, the one who survives is her twin sister Suemy.

If you have had the opportunity to read my little ramblings previously you will have an idea of what this entails, if not I will tell you already: in CFP the tragedy occurs two days before Suemy's wedding, she and her partner being the first to die, followed by the parents of the family and finally Caleb (the older brother) who dies protecting Avana.

However, in F&S the formula changes: Caleb and Suemy's partner are the first to die in order to give the sheeps time to escape, but this does not last more than a couple of days since both are found easily and in an attempt desperate to protect her sister, Avana dies, leaving Suemy alone as the lamb of the prophecy.

Suemy is someone sweet, kind, I originally designed her based on the image of a princess with a heart of gold and a soft and melodious voice. So here she is now, heartbroken, alone, incapable of attachment, completely detached from the cult and fulfilling a mission assigned to her while grief suffocates her. She becomes an untouchable and perfect figure in the eyes of her followers, but inside so small with a wound that she herself refuses to let heal and that bleeds her heart every day.

But, "oh lucky one... A god has set his eyes on her.

In two lives immersed in the sadness of loss and betrayal, both meet to perhaps repair a little of the damage accumulated by the passage of time and repressed feelings.

Narinder was initially hardened by the pain and frustration of his siblings' betrayal, combined with the helplessness of being dependent on someone else to free himself. A whirlwind of strong and changing emotions within him that blind his vision, focusing only on a revenge calculated for more than a thousand years without rest...

But a hardened heart is capable of softening in the face of the purest tears, and with a delicate hand the wounds can be sutured..."

This AU is a kind of Post-Canon bad ending Hurt/Comfort. There is not much plot to tell, it focuses mainly on the thousand and one ways in which Narinder cares for and pampers the lamb in order to make her feel good, while at the same time the desire for revenge (the main reason for being freed) is replaced with the desire to protect such a delicate flower that bleeds in his hands.

.......

Now, about The Showman... Funny story

This lamb was supposed to be my Lambsona, something for personal use to scribble among my class notes... But little by little it evolved.

The Box AU is a sort of "bin of discarded ideas" (it basically has all the ideas, scenes, and dynamics that I decided to leave out or modify from CFP but still enjoy). The Box AU is totally self-indulgent and I'm still amazed today at how far I've come in thinking about this AU (I've even considered twisting it a bit and turning it into an original story).

Anyway, the story in a nutshell: In short the game was broken.

Einar is a black sheep, they was separated from the group due to superstitions, but they never took It the wrong way. They became a kind of traveler/storyteller when they abandoned their flock, thanks to this they was the last lamb to survive.

The lamb is strong... Too strong actually, but they lacks any battle skills which makes them die often (it's based on my save file, because despite playing on easy mode I'm terrible at combat). Frustrated with this, they decides to find another way to complete their mission of freeing The One Who Waits.

By chance, they discovers a book with ancient knowledge of the gods of the ancient faith, where there are multiple rituals forgotten by time. Thanks to this, they learn a way to invoke the god of death and free him from his punishment!! ...But with the price that he is now trapped in a mortal body with his powers reduced and a suppressed rage towards the lamb.

Even so, Einar considers it a victory and offers to help him rebuild, expand and please the cult, so that through devotion his powers return, but of course, the crown is missing.

It turns out that the crown is "stuck" to Einar's head, as they were designated as the perfect vessel, which is why the crown rejects the cat's attempts to retrieve it. On one occasion Narinder reviews the ancient book of the lamb and discovers a possible solution to his problem... A union ritual. Once he and the lamb unite the power of the crown will be divided, then it will be a matter of getting rid of the usurper.

Either way, this won't be so easy. Since in this AU Narinder and the lamb don't really know each other (the ritual happens before confronting Leshy). So there you see Narinder behind the lamb trying to convince him of a marriage while Einar rejects him a thousand and one times without the slightest interest and trying to discover a way to grow the cult.

I love the dynamic between these two in this AU. A combination of comedy, silliness, misunderstandings, adorableness, and a manhwa-style romance (because hey, the marriage of convenience trope has to come from somewhere).

I like to imagine that between Narinder's frustrated attempts to conquer/convince Einar, he gradually develops a special affection for them, while for his part the lamb sees the god as a companion, a friend and someone with whom maybe they wants to identify himself in some way (you know... A black sheep and a black cat)

And well! This is a kind of summary/introduction!!

I'm sorry for making such a LONG text, but I really like thinking about them and the idea of sharing a bit of my brainrot was too tempting to contain...

F&S doesn't have much material currently, but I'm drawing a couple of sketches from time to time (still figuring out how to do Narinder's post-imprisonment design).

On the contrary, Box AU has a considerable amount of material, scenes, ideas, sketches and even its own shitten with a sequel! So if you're interested in that let me know and I'll make a super post dedicated to this AU.

Have a wonderful day!!

[des2dream]

Allow Me To Teach You Something!🌹✍

Reader X Andrew Marston story written by DesDaydream

It was the first week of a new semester and you've finally grown accustomed to the university environment. You recently moved out of your parent's house and found a place not too far from campus grounds. It took a lot of planning, a lot of spending, and a lot of time to adjust, but you feel like you can be able to manage now. Before you left for your studies, you promised your loved ones that you would do your best. You promised that you would have a good experience. You promised that you wouldn't let them down. You even made a promise to yourself that you would graduate no matter what. You can survive a couple years at university....away from your old home....in a new place....full of so many people young and old. You weren't used to this, but you knew that you had people who are willing and able to help you. You just know that you can do this! You meet up with your friend at one of the lounges in The Student Center for lunch and listen to them ramble about what happened yesterday.

"So this guy walks up to me and asks if I want to go to his party this weekend to "welcome the new students", but I know he's just using that as an excuse to lure people into his bedroom or something. I tell him 'no' and he has the nerve to say, 'Whatever, ugly! You'll be sorry when you're missing out' and I just.....No! I won't be missing out! I heard your wifi sucks anyway!"

You listen to every word they say, but you're more focused on your schedule this semester. You were given a fair amount of classes and nothing seems out of place. You want to make sure you know exactly what time your classes start so you don't make a bad first impression by being late.

"It is nice to have you with me. Things were starting to get a little boring around here. There's so much I want to show you. You're gonna love it! I've made a few friends here and they've been asking about you constantly!"

You nod in response as you continue to gaze at your schedule. Your friend notices the lack of eye-contact, but continues to speak.

"There's some cool places near campus that we can check out. The park? A few cafe's? We might be able to crash at my friends' dormitory once in a while if they'll let us. There's also this museum I've been hearing great reviews about! That sounds fun, right?"

You nod once more, but your attention is still focused on the list of classes you were given. Your friend now getting annoyed, sits up and swipes the schedule out of your hands in the blink of an eye.

"Hey! Earth to human being, are you in there? Are you feeling nervous? You've only got a few classes this semester and the first week is basically introductions. All you have to do is sit there and listen."

You apologize to your friend before admitting that you do feel a little nervous about the new semester and being so far from home. You're in unfamiliar territory and you want to make a good first impression on your professors and the other students. Your friend takes a moment to sympathize with you as they recall their first semester. They put a hand on your shoulder and reassure you that everything will be okay.

"You're smart! You've made it this far so what's stopping you now?"

Before you could respond, you and your friend are met with the president of the art club who is also good friends with your friend. There were plenty of clubs on campus, yet you weren't sure if you were going to join any of them. Your friend was well acquainted with different kinds of arts so it's no surprise that they'd be a part of the art club. You heard that they often had snacks on standby which was always a plus.

"Hey!" said The Art Club President as she took a seat next to you and your friend.

"How are we doing? Are we doing okay?"

She looked directly at you before asking,

"How has university been treating you so far?"

You're not sure how to say, but luckily your friend has got you covered.

"They're a little nervous, but I'm here to tell them that everything is gonna be alright and they're being a worry wart! You've been here for a while. Tell them how good campus has been to you!"

"Trust me, you're going to be fine. It takes time to get used to everything, but soon you'll have it all sorted out. You can call me if you ever feel lost," said The Art Club President.

"There's also plenty of professors and staff who can help you too. We even got some new faces recently. I'm not gonna lie, they look kinda cute. We have this T.A., Mr. Pearce who is very kind. A little timid, but very sweet and helpful. We have a wonderful dean. All the professors are cool. Hey, what does your schedule look like? I might recognize some names."

Your friend hands over your schedule for The Art Club President to examine it. She nods as she examines the professors you were assigned to, but she stops for a moment after reading the last name. She rubs her eyes and take a minute to look again. Her face went from cheery to concerned and that only made you tense up. Your friend is confused by this sudden reaction.

"Um, what's wrong?" they asked.

"Is there a problem?"

The Art Club President tries to muster up a smile, but you can still see the concern in their eyes. They burst out a fake laugh as they go to pat your back.

"No! I wouldn't say there's a problem! Everything's gonna be fine, kiddo! All these professors are great for you!"

"You don't sound so convinced," said your friend.

"Cut the bullshit and tell us what's up!"

The Art Club President lets out a defeated sigh.

"Okay, fine! You've been assigned a literature professor, correct?" she asks you to which you respond with a nod.

"Right......well......your professor.....he's.....well......"

Your friend swipes the schedule out of her hands and reads through it. Not even a minute later do they groan before collapsing into their seat.

"Ohmygoddamnit!" they groaned.

You're a little uneasy by this reaction and you ask what's going on. The Art Club President takes a deep breath before giving you an expanation.

"The university recently had a new literature professor since last semester, I believe. His name is Professor Marston. He's actually very smart to have become a professor at a young age. He seems to know what he's doing. It's just....."

"HE'S A BUZZKILL!!!" your friend yells.

"Some of my friends have taken his classes and they have their experiences. He's strict, he's incredibly serious, he's intimidating, and he's a buzzkill! He actually scolded one of my friends for being a couple minutes late like.....it's not that deep, sir!"

"Professor Marston just wants to ensure that the students can be able to take in as much information as possible. He means well, but....he's....um.....I promise he's not a monster or anything." said The Art Club President.

Great. Just great. Your first semester and you've already got a difficult professor coming your way. Just as you were getting ready for your future. Your breathing starts to get heavy. Your heart rate feels like it's pacing like the speed of sound. Beads of sweat are starting to form atop our forehead. You need to get out of there! You need to find a restroom or somewhere quiet! You excuse yourself from your friend's table and rush out. Unfortunately, you're not sure where some of the bathrooms are. You had a map of the campus, but now you've got tears in your eyes and your vision is blurry. Your eyes are looking down at your shoes, but you don't care. You need to run! You need to hide! You need to find somewhere to take a breather! You need to calm down!

Suddenly, you feel something collide into you before hitting the ground. You look to see your bag next to a puddle of someone's drink and spilled papers on the ground. You look up to see two eyes staring down at you in shock and disapproval. Today just wasn't your day! You frantically apologize as you gather up all the papers trying not to cry. You try to explain yourself, but you can't put it into complete sentences. Your practically shaking! A hand reaches down to you waiting for you to take it. Once you do, you feel a warm sensation travel through your body. You look up to see those same disapproving eyes you were scared of turn soft and compassionate. Your eyes travel to see beautiful locks of brown (or dirty blonde) hair and two perfect windows that protected those compassionate eyes. Those eyes, hair, and "two perfect windows" belonged to a tall man in professional clothing while holding a suitcase. His features were too captivating for you to look away. Your heart rate lowers and you're no longer shaking.

"Are you alright?" you hear a voice that sounded smooth like honey but slightly tough as nails.

You nod in response before apologizing again.

"Allow me to teach you something," said the man who owned such a distinct voice as he picked up your bag.

"Eyes are meant for observing. I would advise you to look up where you're going. Check for your surroundings, understand?"

You nod again before apologizing one more time and walk away in an opposite direction. You look back to see someone walk up to the man and look down at the mess on the floor you caused.

"Marston, what happened? Is everything alright?" they asked.

"Yes. I had a run-in with someone. Likely one of the students. It was an accident so it's nothing to fret over."

Did you hear that right? Marston? As in.....Professor Marston?! The person your friend just trash-talked a moment ago? The person who was said to be strict and intimidating? Sure, you felt a little scared at first, but that couldn't be him! Could it? You touch your hand and the thought of his touching yours gives your body another wave of sensational warmth. You feel your heart pounding and your face feels hot. This was going to be your new professor? Well......things just got interesting.

End Notes: Nothing like a "meet-cute backstory" to make things interesting, right? People like a "meet-cute" story, right? This was HARD! I don't usually write Fanfiction. I'm more used to writing my own creations, but I wanted to give it a shot. People seem to enjoy this type of art so why not give it a try? Also, this timeline is supposed to be Listener's first week and semester while Andrew is currently in his first year of being a professor and he's spent more time in university than Listener (if that timeline makes sense). Oh my gosh! I hope this turned out good! I'm a little embarrassed, but I hope you enjoyed it! That's it! Have a nice day! Bye now!

[doiefy]

nct 127 as cursed college profs

very partially based on stupid shit i've had the pleasure and misfortune of seeing in my own classes. happy finals season girlies </3 i rise from my casket of inactivity to bring you the shit post i wrote on the subway on the way to an exam. whose class do you think you'd survive?

cw: cynical college humour because i'm coping, adult humour

taeil: not even that old, but barely knows how to use technology. spends the first 15 minutes of lectures trying to figure out zoom, then the rest of the time poorly explaining quantum mechanics from a textbook written 20 years ago. trips down the stairs two days into the semester and goes on medical leave, only to be spotted on vacation a week later. no one even gives him shit for it.

johnny: originally the cool, chill prof who occasionally went out for drinks with his classes, until he realized he was cool and tried to get even more hip with the kids. now he uses bad memes in his slides and films tiktoks in his lab. the number of students who ask to get drinks with him significantly boosts his ego, but no one tells him they’re doing it just to cross “drinking with a prof” off the frosh bingo card.

taeyong: the sweetest, loveliest, kindest soul you will ever meet—except he’s only taught twice in his life, just got put in as a replacement for a prof who tripped down the stairs, and gives you the most god-awful final exam known to man. he’s also stressed out (on your behalf) at any given moment, to the point where he just passes everyone with an 80 and calls it a day.

yuta: the hip, fashionable prof who only serves looks and random commentaries on society in the middle of his lectures. undergrads fight to the death to join his research group, but the ones who make it eventually realize he spends most of his time partying with the department’s money. yet still, groundbreaking work comes out of his lab every year…

doyoung: retired from research a few years ago to teach full time, but not a single person knows why. he may offer the clearest, live-saving explanations in his lectures—but he constantly looks like he wants to go home and will decimate your entire existence with a single look if you ask anything about the syllabus two weeks into the semester.

jaehyun: the hot single prof. every single freshman girlie has a sickening, concerning, fanfic-esque crush on him. some go as far as nearly failing his class and then booking office hours with him before finals, only to find out that he’s been using Doyoung’s teaching material for years, without credit. he is very much horrendous at teaching on his own. and very much gay.

jungwoo: wanted to go into early childhood education, somehow got coerced into doing his masters, then his phd, then post doc, then— still fulfills his dreams by treating his students like kindergarteners. this includes gentle parenting of frat boys who won’t shut the fuck up during class, handing out healthy vegan treats, and encouraging “mindful moments” while you write the hardest exam he has ever administered.

mark: refuses to teach because he doesn’t think any of the kids will take him seriously, is forced to anyways by the department. as a prodigy so fucking removed from what it’s like to be stupid, he ends all his quantum lectures with “this is pretty straightforward,” and books it back to his lab on an electric skateboard. yes he built it himself. no he won't let you try and ride it.

haechan: shares an office with mark and spends most of his free time figuring out which organic compounds he can mix together to perfectly recreate the texture and smell of cum. if he doesn’t show up to class, it’s because he’s terrorizing pigeons on the street for science. shows gruesome videos of explosions and chemical fires for a chemical safety lecture. has had the fire alarm pulled on him at least twice.

[mikiusol]

Sometimes fanfiction is a love letter to a story and sometimes it's just raging hate mail to the author disguised as a story. But at the end of the day stories really do make a difference to someone. No matter the medium.

One of my favourite fanfictions was published when I was three, and I found it over a decade later after reading the book that inspired it. Reading that fanfiction after was like being hugged by someone I've never met, across time and space. I left a comment under a username I no longer use, and the person who wrote the fanfiction will probably never read it.

A book I read when I was 10 devastated me. I couldn't comprehend the ending. It took me years to realise that the protagonist had to die - there was no other way he could've survived hypothermia, and that sometimes things just end. I think it was my first time realising that bad endings happen in life. That book didn't shy away from telling that to children. The plain, hard truth was there for me to see.

When I was 11, I was rushing back to class after recess but I visited the library for a quick book loan. I didn't actually have a title in mind. But I wanted to read anyways, so I grabbed a random book. Fast forward a few weeks later, and I was reading another book written by the same author. I liked it even more than the first one I had found. Four years later, I drew fanart for it and the author replied to it. It made me so happy I didn't shut up about it for days. Fast forward another two years, and now I've gotten at least two people to read the same book. I've met people online from Italy and France who've read the same book as a child and loved it too.

I still love every story I mentioned. I'm rambling and it's late at night but I've been thinking a lot about stories lately. School's starting again soon and I don't want to go, but I've been thinking of a fanfiction I've been following for the past couple of months and it keeps me going. I really do think that stories are here for us to enjoy and carry with us through hard times. Don't be afraid to write whatever story you have in mind, no matter it be fanfiction or a novel you want to publish. Writing has always been here. Whatever you write will never be the worst someone has read.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Tidbit Tuesdays: And We're Back

*slides in with a coffee and sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes*

It hasn't been two weeks since I posted, I don't know what you're talking about.

Anyway, an emergency root canal, a crown, and quite a lot of money later, I'm back on my LaDs grind. Truth be told on top of everything else, I'm going through writer's block, so WIPs is just about all I've got.

Can't commit to anything, like my teeth can't commit to my mouth.

If you've survived this rambling, bless. This week's WIPs are just a random assortment of things. And if you're new here, this is where I post things I'm proud of, just generally like, or am currently working on.

If you enjoy this (or just generally appreciate people) please leave a like or a reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to keep writing!

---

Notes: first up is Zayne and Kiri, my MC. I recently finished catching up on the new (!!!) main storyline additions, so this is your spoiler warning before I continue.

I loved where the story went, and so decided to do a "what if" in which Kiri temporarily has her memory restructured by the Protofield and the Myst, dropped into a dreamscape that reflects Dreamwalker's world.

It's fun. It's SUPER fun. I should get back to it soon.

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Kiri’s day ended like this:

Akso hospital had strict regimented shifts to combat the constant wave of abominations. At the end of hers, she got scanned, tested, and questioned before she was allowed to leave. A pair of military men in uniforms escorted her down out of the hospital campus, waiting with her until someone could come pick her up.

They never needed to wait long.

Zayne was almost always perfectly on time.

The black silhouette appeared silently through the thick mist, her escorts tensing before realizing who it was. She patted one on the shoulder, saying her goodbyes before stepping forward.

Her hand found Zayne's before she'd even said a word.

“How was work?” He murmured. In his other hand were groceries, the plastic sack sagging with the weight.

Kiri sighed, pulling her hair loose from its bun. “Long,” she replied. “Three more cases today. The ACU ward is overflowing already, and Chansia hospital can't take anymore. They're bursting at the seams.” She leaned into him, her pink scrubs brushing against the wool of his coat.

He frowned at her. “You took your jacket this morning. Where is it?”

“Hm?” Kiri blinked in surprise. “Oh. Someone needed it more than I did.” She smiled at his exasperated sigh, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on. I have you to keep me warm, don't I?”

Zayne shook his head, a slight smile forcing its way through his irritation. “Still. The nurse can't help people if she gets sick, can she? Your health has to come first.”

She hummed, neither agreeing nor denying it. He huffed in response. “Let's go home, my moon.”

Kiri had worked at Akso hospital as long as she could remember. She'd graduated top of her class, with perfect marks, and settled easily into her new life. Work in the Abominations Containment Unit was intense, and it seemed her coworkers were on a revolving door roster. Few people stayed as long as she did, with cases increasing every day.

It was at some point during that that she met Zayne.

A former patient of hers had cornered her in an alley, begging for help before turning into an awful, monstrous thing.

A sudden explosion of black ice had been her saving grace.

The man in black had vanished as quickly as he'd appeared, and, well…

As if following a thread of fate itself, she chased after him.

It was unconscionable for a nurse and someone like him to fall in together. Kiri was well aware she was breaking the code of ethics, not to mention the oaths she'd taken.

Yet here they were.

It felt like it had been forever since they'd gotten together.

It felt like it had been no time at all.

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Notes: This one's been in the mental WIP for a while. I usually let ideas ferment in my head for a while before I bake them into fics, like a good sourdough.

This one focuses on Kit and Sylus, Kit being his second in command and NOT the MC. If you've been here a while, you know her. Anyway, I wanted to do a "what if Kit got hurt" thing, and as usual, they can't help bantering even when she's been stabbed. Go figure.

Fair warning, this one does feature some gruesome imagery. Not a lot though.

🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛

The remains of the building shuddered, dust and sheetrock crumbling down. Sylus ran his flashlight over the rubble, keeping an ear out for any voices.

“Keep a low profile,” he murmured to the twins. “It's not just Kit that might be down here.”

The twins nodded firmly.

The building was a winding, gray mess, shadowed corners scurrying away at each sweep of the flashlights. Every once in a while, they would have to make a wide berth around slowly seeping pools of red, checking the remains for identification.

So far, there were only strangers.

“Fan out,” Sylus murmured. “We'll get more coverage that way.”

The twins and the other men he brought along nodded, splitting up into groups of two. All of them had radios, but it was a shot in the dark whether they would keep working in the lingering metaflux.

It was eerily quiet down here.

The rubble blocked all outside noises, leaving nothing but the occasional whisper of dust or the clatter of stone.

At last, he came to a room that was nearly intact.

It appeared to be a lab, the viewing windows completely shattered. A single threadbare bulb struggled to stay lit, swinging to and fro as it flickered dangerously.

Sylus carefully stepped inside, his feet crunching softly on the broken glass.

A body lay inside, the head twisted unnaturally. A badge on the lab coat proclaimed this to be someone who worked in the building.

The position of their hand was odd, and he leaned closer to examine it. There were faint marks to indicate they'd tightly gripped something before they died.

A second later, his instincts screamed for him to move, and he rolled out of the way, just as someone dropped down from a ceiling panel.

He swiftly got to his feet, ducking left as a shot fired, cutting through his jacket. With a lunge forward, he slammed his hand down, disarming his opponent.

A blade kissed his throat from their other hand, and he looked down into the cold, wild eyes of Kit.

“It's me, sweetie,” he said breathlessly.

Kit blinked. Her hair was messy and dusty, falling out of its usual braid. She held herself strangely, almost curling forward as she gripped the blade.

“Prove it,” she snapped.

Red mist yanked the blade from her grasp, pulling her into his arms. Sylus let just enough power through to make his eye glow without invading her thoughts. “How's that?”

She hissed in pain, grabbing his jacket to steady herself. “That works,” she grit out. “Someone had a doppelganger evol here. They looked like Evan, our diagnostics head.”

Sylus swore, thinking of the nervous man he'd spoken to before. “He might have made it out. I just spoke to Evan before we entered. Are you alright?”

Kit shook her head. “Took a piece of rebar to the side. I didn't have the luxury of keeping it stuck in there, there were people trying to kill me. How did you of all people not notice Evan?”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Occasionally things do escape me, kitten. It's harder to tell when the man in question is always sweating like he's in a sauna.” He glanced at her sidelong. “Speaking of, you bring up a good point. What's to say you aren't a doppelganger? A good one, but one nonetheless.”

She reared back, offended. “Excuse you! Are you implying my fighting is on the level of any average person?”

Sylus smirked. “Your ability with firearms does leave something to be desired.”

“You motherfu- eep!” Kit squeaked as Sylus picked her up, his arm settling neatly under her bottom. She clung to his shoulders as a scarlet flush swept across her skin.

He chuckled. “There's that beautiful full-body blush. No imposter after all.”

“If I survive this,” Kit snapped, “I'm going to do my best to choke you out.”

“I look forward to it.” He stepped out of the room, grabbing his radio. “Twins, can you read me?”

The radio crackled for a moment before a reply came through. “Loud and clear, boss. Has mama bird been located?”

“I take it back,” Kit muttered. “I'm killing them first, and then you.”

Sylus smiled at that. “Mama bird is with me, yes,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the murderous glare she shot his direction. “We're exiting the building now. Withdraw and rendezvous at South Tower.”

🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Note: Ahahaha. Our last one is Omegaverse. That's flustering and fun. This one's less suggestive, mostly due to the fact that I was jotting down headcanons for Omegaverse AU and it turned into mini fics. So this one is Zayne and Kiri.

❄️❄️❄️

For some reason, the universe decides to bless Kiri with the worst possible heat to go along with her myriad of health problems.

In the week leading up to it, she feels exhausted and sick, throwing up food easily and sleeping poorly.

Previous doctors have told her that it's because she has an extremely high hormone production rate, and it means she's extra fertile.

That she should be grateful.

She had to hold herself back from strangling them.

It also means she can't take suppressants.

Zayne, at least, is sympathetic. Even long before they begin a relationship, he reaches out through his connections to find her hormone specialists, people who can help her manage her symptoms.

And after they start dating, well.

He spoils her rotten.

Zayne can only really take the week of her heat off, with how vital he is to operations in Akso Hospital. However, the clean house, fresh linens, and hot food he gets for her goes a long way towards helping.

She always tries to protest his help after his shift is over, stating that he already works enough.

He just does it anyway. All her plushies get scented, her favorite pastries are bought, and her extra expensive jar of tea is left out by a new mug on the kitchen island.

She could just cry from how sweet he is.

When her heat strikes, it's similar.

Kiri becomes very particular about her nest, only choosing the most recent articles of clothing he's worn. She gets exhausted very quickly, and Zayne purchases scent blocking candles to light throughout the entire apartment.

(He's seriously considering how much it would be to get a house outside of the city. If he catches another Alpha lingering at his doorstep or below his balcony window, he's going to break his doctor's oaths on purpose)

❄️❄️❄️

Thanks for reading, and have a good Tuesday!

[havendance]

Help! I was Reborn as Robin's Father!

Chapter 1

ao3

Fandom: Batman

Wordcount: 2400

Summary:

I was just an ordinary university student until I got in a car accident and woke up as Jack Drake! Now I've got to figure out how to be a dad to Robin and also how to survive my inevitable death. I'm sure I'll figure it out. I hope.

Hey, remember that time I mention writing a Jack Drake self-insert isekai fic? Well I wrote the first chapter back in february and then it proceeded to rot in my drafts while I was at school until now. Not sure if I'll continue this, but I do have ideas and this chapter was fun to write. This isn't one of my priorities though.

Excerpt:

It was a Thursday when my life suddenly derailed. Garfield may rail against Mondays, but let me tell you, Thursdays are the really rough ones. On Mondays you can still be optimistic about the week spread out before you. By the time you’ve gotten to Thursday, though, you’re worn out and ready for it to be Friday, only it’s not, so instead you suffer. Also, Thursdays are my long days, so that doesn’t help either.

This particular Thursday was pouring and miserable. I would much rather be curled up in a cozy corner with a warm cup of tea and a good book, but instead I was driving down the freeway before the sun was even up because I had an 8am class I needed to get to. I hated commuting. Sure, it was cheaper than living on campus, but it was an absolute pain, especially in times like this when everyone forgot how to drive. 

I was mentally cursing the US’ lack of public transportation options that meant I had to do my own driving, when suddenly the car in front of me spun out of control. I slammed on my brakes, but with all the rain coming down, I found myself losing control as well. Shit, shit, shit. God, help me—

Suddenly, everything came to an abrupt stop. There was a crash, a flash of pain, and everything went black.

—

My head was fuzzy. There was a… beeping? Some sort of noise in the distance. Was it my alarm? Was I late for school? There was also… a voice? Maybe? I couldn’t make out who was talking or what they were saying.

I was tired. I was really tired. I felt like my body was made of lead. Like I’d used too many blankets and was having one of those dreams where I was trapped and couldn’t move. Opening my eyes sounded like a truly monumental task, and I didn’t want to go to school anyway, so I didn’t and let myself sink back into sleep.

The next time I drifted towards consciousness, it was quieter. There was still that beeping itching away at me, but nothing else. Barely conscious, I felt fuzzy and separate from my body. My hand though—I could feel the barest sensation of another hand in mine. As soon as I had finally put that together, the hand was gone. I wanted it back. Was it my mother’s? I tried to call out to her but I couldn’t speak and soon I fell back asleep.

When I finally managed to wake up, it was bright and I couldn’t see. Eventually though, my eyes adjusted. Mama wasn’t there. I was lying in a hospital bed. I felt tired and weak and could barely move. There was a nurse in the room with me. She brightened when she saw I was awake.

“Mr Drake!” she said. “You’re awake!”

Keep reading on ao3!

[aching-tummies]

Citrus Latte

(In terrible 90's commercial cheese-y announcer) Back, for a limited time!

Jokes aside, I've been slowly getting settled into my new life. I won't go into details but my non-min-wage part-time job kind of got the ball rolling on me furthering my education to maybe get certified to do more work in that field, eventually. I've still got the min-wage food job and I'm attending courses as an in-person student for part of the week. Basically, I signed my life away for the foreseeable future, committed to having no days off unless it is a government-mandated holiday where the post-secondary institution is required to be closed and neither one of my jobs calls me in for such a day.

Trying to get used to my new life has taken a few weeks and it's been a grueling few weeks. Lots of nodding off in classes or in transit, napping between classes or trying not to fall asleep at my food-job. Trying (and failing) to go to bed earlier and try to be asleep before midnight. All that jazz.

Sleep is out of whack so I've been surviving on coffee. Doing my best to brew at home because prices on campus make me think that it isn't tuition or lack of working hours driving the 'broke student' trope. Seriously, a slice of pizza and a fountain drink together go for more than the standard minimum-wage on-campus. I refuse to support that kind of gouging so I've been committing to staying up until 2AM meal-prepping to ensure I can grab and go at 4AM to catch the first buses heading to my campus. No, my classes are not that early. But transit in my area leaves much to be desired and when the bus is scheduled to show up once every hour--and often skips two or three buses, a frazzled student's gotta do what they gotta do.

Today was one such day where I was running on coffee and panic. I'd forgotten to get my coffee stuff laid out for me to easily use in the morning so I scrambled to make anything that would be my sweet-treat drink of the day and settled on powdered iced-tea mix. It's got sugar and a bit of caffeine so I was hoping that it'd do the job. 4AM, off to catch a bus that may or may not show up.

By around 3PM I was flagging after having basically chugged the iced-tea in hopes the sugar would revitalize me. When I nodded off in my class I knew I had to take drastic action, so I ran down to the nearest coffee shop and committed to paying way-too-much for a hit of the good stuff. I got some Caramel Latte concoction or something and it was divine. I went and attended my last class of the day while trying to ration that precious water of awakefulness.

Our last class decided to let out early so we wound up being done around 5PM. I had plans to rush home, deal with what I had to deal with, and maybe hit sleep-ville by 8PM.

As I was packing up my school stuff, classmates kept on approaching me. Some to chat casually. Others to ask me for help proof-reading their assignments or to ask about a specific section of the lecture that they couldn't hear very well and were hoping to compare notes with mine (I'm considered a keener and open about trying to help everyone pass the course so people approach me often). While I normally don't mind this kind of interaction 'cuz the more of us that pass, the less I have to worry about making friends in future semesters…today just wasn't my day.

For those that do not know what a Latte is…here it's basically a shot of espresso with the rest of the cup filled with milk. A shot is not a lot of liquid so probably only 1/8th of my cup was coffee and caramel and the rest was all milk.

Milk normally doesn't play nice with my guts anyway, but today the milk had trickled into a system completely saturated with lemon-y, sugary tea. My guts were cramping and twisting like an angry viper for the last 10 minutes of class and I was in a hurry trying to pack up my things to beat a hasty retreat before my stomach decided to void itself by any means necessary.

I stayed behind to chat with a few classmates, not wanting to be rude, but the second all my stuff was in my bag I basically booked it out of the room and down the stairs.

My stomach hurt so, so, so, so bad!

I nearly tumbled down four levels of stairs because my stomach hurt so bad and I just wanted to curl up and rub it…or rip it all out to get rid of the problem completely. Plans to rush home were immediately dashed and I bolted in the hopes of finding a less busy washroom.

I had started the day out on an upset stomach. Stress, lack of sleep--etc. In the morning, I'd had the sense to find a washroom hidden in a corner of campus that had no classrooms (just an out-of-use office) so that washroom basically experienced zero traffic and likely only ever saw single-digit visitors throughout the course of an entire day. I got to use it in peace in the morning.

Unfortunately for me, my last class of the day was diagonally opposite that secluded washroom and my cramping tummy was making it very clear that it would not let me clear campus. I ended up rushing into one of the more busy washrooms and doing my business there. I definitely stayed there longer than I needed to just to wait for a lull when the washroom would be empty so that I could beat an exit without anyone giving me weird looks.

I ended up getting home maybe an hour and a half later than I'd planned because transferring on transit amplifies wait-times. Being 10 minutes late to the first bus you take snowballs into having to wait another 40-50 minutes for the next one, which snowballs into waiting 20 minutes for the next transfer, which snowballs into 20-40 minutes for the last transfer--and that's my route to and from campus…so…like…being in the washroom for an extra 10 minutes has a domino effect on timing.

I'm home now. Luckily, my stomach didn't embarrass me on the ride home. I got home, rushed around my place trying to get things in order. I've let laundry pile up for three weeks, haven't put away my socks or whatevers, and needed to sort out clean from dirties and figure out which items had to be hand-washed and air-dried. Once I got all those stressors out of the way and finally allowed myself to sit down, I finally had the mental capacity to pay attention to my body. My stomach is hurting again.

Send me your best responses? My stomach's been upset all day and chugging lemon-tea and following that up with a latte that most definitely curdled going through my citrus-y guts has done it zero favors. Any ideas on what to do to the mess that is my achy tummy?

[thatoneluckybee]

Bee im so sorry to terrorize you with this crackpot theory but what if Ryoko is the mastermind?

She has canon sprites, is mentioned on Kai’s laptop as being someone to keep an eye on and despite that has not once shown up in the death game and easily could have gotten close to Sara and Joe as preparation for the death game.

I’m sorry but IT MAKES SENSE

CHAOS

CHAOS

THIS IS THE LAST THING I SAW BEFORE PHONE AWAY FOR CLASS I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING CHEMICAL EQUATIONS BUT NO I WAS HERE THINKING ABOUT RYOKO MASTERMIND THEORY I SWEAR YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO MEEEEE. (It's alright I was able to focus okay on the work kinda so :P)

ANYWAYS

This is likely a joke but you know me :3 I'm taking this too seriously (art block for like a week in an art c l a s s so I'm doing nothing but scrolling Pinterest for literally any decent ideas rn anyways)

Inhale

This would be strange to say the least. I can't remember Kai's laptop mentioning little miss Hirose at all but if so it's likely because Ryoko, being a close friend, could be seen as a threat (Sara and Joe harder to kidnap when with a friend, could fight back, etc etc.) However I will note I've found it a bit strange that she never really gets brought up.

There's a lot of obvious reasons why this probably ain't true. I highly doubt the Hirose family has any ties to Asunaro. Even if they DID, Ryoko herself probably isn't at all aware or involved considering Sara went this whole 17 years without realizing she was literally being trained to be a lethal weapon. It would be possibly underwhelming as Ryoko hasn't been teased at all, unless Nankidai pulled off a tremendous Rube Goldberg and showed how ACTUALLY she's been here this whole time wow. I'm not spending time on the reasons why not. This is funny to me though so I'll list potential "evidence" for a maybe crack not so crack theory.

I doubt it, BUT there was a Reddit post a while ago comparing Megumi Sasahara and Ryoko's sprites. Megumi's sprites are interesting as she is REMARKABLY similar to Sara in appearance! Both have their three quarter view arms on hips look, similar body figures, etc etc. Even their personalities are similar. I've seen some speculation that Megumi's tie to Asunaro (she may have one or at the least knew more than she was supposed to) was that she was a sort of Beta attempt at recreating the Memorrandum (HOW IN TF IS THAT SPELLED) Girl, if one busy the theory that Sara was raised specifically to recreate the Hades incident's Memorrandum Girl. That theory claims that the survivor of the first death game, overcome by his affection for the teen girl, is the mastermind or at least an instigator for the current Asunaro Death Game, hoping to rewrite the story where the girl survives. Regardless, Megumi's likely connected. The Reddit post has less of a foundation to stand on, simply saying Megumi and Ryoko look similar (pose and black hair) and could be potentially related. This is unlikely, BUT for the sake of this crack theory we'll assume there's a possibility the Sasahara and Hirose families are acquainted or related somehow. This would give Ryoko a connection to Asunaro.

But what if Ryoko, though likely not the mastermind, was somehow AWARE of Asunaro? We see that Ryoko and Sara interact as children in Sara's minisode. They've been within one another's vicinity for a WHILE. We know all the YTTD Cast have been! Kai worked for Mr. Chidouin, Sara fought Ursheen and Shin at a card game, Joe probably was the boy who tried to cheer up Kanna in a flashback and got probably beat up by Kugie, Shin and Kanna are siblings, so are Alice and Reko, some think Miley could be Gin's mother, Mr. Policeman who Keiji shot is probably Joe's late dad. There's a LOT of connections! Asunaro has been pulling puppet strings for a while though they hide it well. If the Hirose family was in cahoots with Asunaro, there's a chance Ryoko found out. I highly doubt Ryoko is malicious as she is literally a child. However, she could, in this wild goose chase theory, be helping behind scenes unwillingly. Maybe her family or Asunaro pressured her to gather information, who knows! The only scene I can think of to back this is at the end of Ryoko and Joe's date in I believe it was Sara's minisode. Ryoko says "I'll see you tomorrow!... Right...?" Or something like that and looks almost sad. Or maybe that was guilt. Even if she didn't know what Asunaro was, she could've sensed that something was wrong, or had a feeling that something bad would happen, and felt guilty knowing that she didn't or couldn't help. Or maybe she was feeling guilty for "playing" with Joe and Sara's feelings if she was gathering intel.

All in all I don't really buy it but with a LOT OF HEAVY SPECULATION and some maybe huge plot twists on Nankidai's part, as well as blind faith in a lot of popular and more underground theories, it's still very implausible but NOT IMPOSSIBLE I GUESS.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

Sending a follower rec for WIP week! It's a star wars au where the author writes each chapter as if it's the next installment in a saga. It's got a lot of angst and worldbuilding and if you like star wars or sci-fi in general I would highly recommend it!

Duel of the Twins

by Theladyofravenclaw

T, WIP, 71k, Wangxian

Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far far away... After growing up together at the Jedi temple on Coruscant Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng venture out on their own for the adventure of a lifetime. However, when an unknown threat and raging war looms overhead, the paths that they must take to protect those that they love will change the course of the galaxy forever. A tale of two brothers, bound by fate, to discover who they are and what destiny awaits. (or the "Wei Wuxian as a sith lord" fic that I've been craving for a while.)

@theladyofravenclaw

~*~

Hi. I would like to Follower Rec two stories for WIP week. The first is the unfished fourth story in a wonderful series. Glitterbombshell does an incredible job with characterisation and I who doesn't love teacher!WWX? @immoralq

Youth Is Sweet and They Are Growing

by Glitterbombshell

Not rated, WIP, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: It is not the first discussion conference that has been held since Jin Guangyao’s downfall, but it is the largest so far. And the first one since Wei Wuxian officially started teaching the Lan clan’s novices. In an effort to encourage inter-sect alliances and friendships among even the youngest disciples,a series of friendly skill demonstrations and competitions are held, with events for all ages to participate in. To the surprise of literally no one, the Jin sect children seem to come out of the womb puffed up on pride and thinking they’re at least a little bit better than everyone. Their novice disciples are no exception. The Jin novices’ first mistake was underestimating the Lan class because most of them are a few years younger than them. Their worst mistake was making disparaging remarks about their beloved Master Wei where Lan Xin could hear them.

~*~

This is the second rec. I love the idea of LWJ being forced into seclustion and then being rescued by A-Yuan, and it's written so well. Thank you! @immoralq

flower of justice

by neoncoin

T, WIP, 18k, Wangxian

Summary: Convinced his brother won't survive the punishment for disobeying the elders after Nightless City, Lan Xichen intervenes, and pleads insanity on Lan Wangji's behalf. A few years later, little A-Yuan makes friends with a strange man who lives in the Gentian House. (And a few years after that, Sizhui helps plot an escape attempt.)

~*~

One of time travel fic that i like. I like the interaction between WWX and other character and how WWX managed to make a new talisman by accident when he is blind

The Darkness Before Dawn

by PsycheStellata707

M, WIP, 113k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Ying remembers falling and a voice. “The price of seeing the future Is the ability to see the present” ... Or, another time travel-fix it where Wei Ying is given another chance to change destinies; but nothing comes free.

~*~

Also!

Modern Cultivation AU. Wei Ying gets tossed out of the Jiang sect after a night hunt goes bad. Cue Yu Ziyuan's terrible decisions. He lands with the Wen who of course are like ... No wait. Shit. He's a fucking genius!!

It's still in the ramp up but it has so much potential and I love a Meet Ugly. This has some top quality high grade LWJ sass, and classic WY and his absolute inability to see his own value.

The modern AU translation feels very plausible as well. Of course there'd be social channels dedicated to the wild stuff cultivators can do.

Anyway. Highly recommend! [I second this rec! It's a 💙 ~Mod Kay.]

Truth Will Out (when caught on video)

by KizuKatana

E, WIP, 63k, Wangxian

Summary: A night-hunt goes wrong, and Wei Wuxian is scapegoated for the death of the Jiang Sect Leader and the destroyed core of the Jiang Sect Heir. As punishment, his core is taken and given to Jiang Cheng, and he is stripped of his cultivation credentials and expelled from the sect. What everyone forgot was that Wei Wuxian was wearing the standard issue body camera that each cultivator wore on training missions and high-risk night-hunts. Struggling to make ends meet, Wei Wuxian finds his way to Caiyi Town with the doctor who performed the surgery, a partial core still secretly in place. His application to work at Cloud Recesses is summarily rejected by the hard-edged Second Jade of Lan after an unfortunate initial encounter. But things change when someone hacks into the Jiang systems and releases the footage of what happened. [First part of the title is a quote from Shakespeare, but this story is not based on that one!]

@kizukatana

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories)

[valentinsylve]

For @countdowntotwinpeaks fan exchange, here is my gift fic for @littlestsnicket --

It turned out to be the fluffiest thing I've ever written, which is terrible, since you didn't want fluff, but this is what came out. I hope it's good anyway!

(Characters: Bobby/Shelly; Leo/Shelly; Norma.

CW for domestic violence allusion because Leo.)

Jack Rabbit's Palace

Leo took Shelly to a midnight movie back in high school when such pastimes were daring and Leo was still just a bad, older boy, older and badder than that cheating Bobby Briggs. She found the picture horrifically violent, but gripping. The tag line was, “Who will survive, and what will be left of them?” 

Shelly could never have anticipated how later on, daily life in Twin Peaks would seem branded with those words. 

Leo had been quite persuasive in his courtship, but the line which caught her was deceptively simple. 

“You’re a grown woman, you’ve got a full-time job at the Double R, what are you doing going to geography class with a bunch of kids?” 

He didn’t seem wrong about that. Three weeks later, they were married. 

Home life was tolerable. Norma was basically her mom already, so Shelly wasn’t exactly leaving anyone behind. Leo made plenty of money driving the truck and selling drugs. Shelly liked a bit of nose candy herself, no reason to judge him for being the candyman. If only he didn’t lose his temper so often. The coke helped her feel better, at least. Gave her plenty of energy to keep the house up to Leo’s standards. 

The nights when Leo brought his coke-dealing buddies home were unpleasant, especially because she wasn’t allowed to get high when they were over. Shelly didn’t like playing waitress to handsy old creeps like Jacques Renault; but Leo told her to accept his little gifts and smile. A wife should be a proper hostess with her husband’s business associates. 

He finally laid down the law when the crystal bottle of scent from Horne’s Department Store came with a suggestion that Shelly quit the diner to take a job at the perfume counter, “with room for advancement, if you don’t mind working late.” Laying down the law took the form of some looming and growling at Jacques, which would have been fine if Leo hadn’t slapped the hell out of Shelly afterward when she had an armload of beer bottles. For “encouraging him.” Shelly hadn’t even known yet about the perfume counter, and where the girls who worked there wound up. Of course, she was stuck cleaning up broken glass and cigarette butts soaked in beer with a wrenched shoulder, which wasn’t a glamorous life either. Such a fucking mundane sort of horror.

After Leo hit her, he always seemed to end up crying in her lap. She’d pet his hair, wipe his snotty nose, and comfort him like a kid who’d fallen down on the playground. 

That particular night he sniffled, 

“I’m just trying to protect you, babe. Don’t you fucking dare take that job at Horne’s. I don’t want Jacques Renault talking to you again.” 

Since Leo didn’t bring Jacques over anymore, he was spending more late nights out. Shelly didn’t care where he might have been going. He tended to come home red-eyed and staggering, but less volatile, like the coals in his furnace had been banked for the night. This was all right, since at Norma’s coaxing she had begun studying to get her G.E.D..

One or the other of Leo’s high school errand boys would drop by on occasion, usually when Leo wasn’t at home. Shelly was inevitably bored, but that didn’t make her want their company. However, one Saturday, she got a surprise: the errand boy was Bobby Briggs. Shelly treated him with cool scorn the first time he came by, but he was persistent, and he was being nice to her. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome as ever, tall, with the most delicious wavy brown hair. 

It started to be fun seeing Bobby again. She’d share all the gossip from the diner, and he’d do little stunts to impress her: kid stuff like climbing the tall vine maple in the yard and gently pelting her with pocketfuls of the starlight mints he sucked on to counter the taste of cigarettes. He usually had a joint with him, too, so they’d pass it back and forth on the back porch and get giggly on the piney smoke. 

Bobby was officially dating Laura Palmer. Laura Palmer was basically Miss Perfect, too, aside from the whole helping Bobby cheat thing, so Shelly wasn’t sure why he was so eager to flirt with a dropout waitress. But her marriage was sorely lacking in romance, and she was young, and Bobby was very, very cute. Leo would’ve killed them both if he found out, even though nothing was happening. Yet.

It was only a matter of time. One afternoon, Bobby and Shelly were pleasantly stoned and enjoying the gloom of a late, mild winter day, sheltered from the misty drizzle by the back porch roof. 

“I love to listen to the whispering of the trees,” murmured Shelly. “Don’t they sound like they’re whispering?” Feeling very daring, she leaned her head a hair’s breadth from Bobby’s shoulder on the pretext of gazing dreamily at the branches which still had most of their brown leaves that warm, warm February. 

“What are they whispering?” asked Bobby, shifting casually so that his shoulder cradled her neck. 

Shelly slowly smiled, tilted her head to look up at him, and said, “They’re sending us a secret message. Can you hear what it is?”

“Tell me what they’re saying,” Bobby urged, teasing. 

Shelly nestled her head firmly on Bobby’s shoulder and said, “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret. Can you guess?”

Bobby wrapped his arms around her bit by bit, as if he were blanketing her in moss. 

“I can hear them now. I know what they’re telling us.” 

Shelly held still and took a deep breath. Her eyes grew very wide. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a tender, husky voice, and drew her up to face him. 

She felt weightless. Her heart seemed to have floated up into the trees. When they kissed, it was like the moment in a movie when a plane lands and the passengers all applaud. Then they both burst out laughing, and tugged at each other’s hair, growling like tussling puppies. 

He took her hands in his, jumped up from the porch, and twirled her around in the drizzle while she let out shrieks of delight. 

Bobby’s blue eyes had taken on a quality which Shelly could only describe as mesmerizing, and when he set her on her feet he looked at her like she was a precious jewel he’d found at the top of a mountain. 

“I want to take you to my favorite place. It’s... Maybe you’ll think it’s stupid, but I don’t know, the way you get so poetic about the trees. And you’re my best friend, and the prettiest girl, and I want to share it with you, even if you’re married and I can never kiss you again.” 

Shelly had never experienced a moment so playful and solemn at the same time. Every word they spoke to each other felt like a promise. 

The drive held a sacred hush, just the rumble of the engine. Bobby held Shelly’s hand whenever he wasn’t shifting gears. 

Bobby parked inside the entrance to Ghostwood National Forest, held the door for Shelly, and took her hand again. 

“I feel like you should cover your eyes on the way, you know, to make it more mysterious, but I don’t want you to trip and fall.” 

“It’s OK,” said Shelly, with a shy smile. “I’ll just pretend I’m not staring at you the whole way.” 

Bobby’s face lit up with one of his wild grins, and he said, “OK, then! Let’s go.” 

He led her along paths she wasn’t sure how he could find, and they ended up at a bit of a clearing. There was a gigantic stump of a tree that had been splintered long ago, and fallen parts of the trunk settled all around. 

“Here we are. Tell me what you think.” 

Shelly took in the secluded scenery. It felt majestic and eerie. 

“It looks like a throne. A big, rugged throne.”

Bobby exclaimed, “Yes! I knew you would see it.”

Bobby led her to the giant stump and hopped up on the fallen log leaning against it.  

“This is Jack Rabbit’s Palace. I used to come here with my dad when I was a kid. We’d play imagination games. They were some of the best times I ever had.” 

Shelly beamed up at Bobby. There was something melancholy in his voice when he talked about his dad, but it was just a cloud passing over the sun, just like Twin Peaks weather. The afternoon was dismal, but Bobby felt like sunshine, with just that hint of shadow. Shelly wanted to sweep all the clouds out of the sky for him. 

What sorts of imagination games Shelly and Bobby thought up at Jack Rabbit’s Palace remain a secret kept by the trees. Above all it was a time of untainted joy. The last one to be had for a while; for that was the February when Laura Palmer died. 

Shelly thought she knew everything dark and weird about Twin Peaks. Some of it wasn’t so bad. She liked mysteries and secrets. But after Laura died, it was like a great machine ground past a bit of metal which had been locking it up, and it unleashed a roar from deep inside. Leo was a suspect. He had a bloody shirt. And he’d been having sex with Laura. Shelly felt it like a dull thud inside. Her husband had been having sex with Laura Palmer, and might have killed her. And she hid the bloody shirt he’d told her to wash, and he beat her and beat her. Meanwhile Bobby’s heart was open and screaming, a gaping wound, and Shelly was there to mend it. 

Back when Shelly had told Norma she and Leo were getting married, Norma screwed up her mouth and huffed as if she were preparing to say something, and then she shook her head and smiled a bit sadly. 

“Shelly, I hope you will be very happy. I also hope you’ll keep your job here and not just stay and keep house for your husband. You’re important to me. I guess you know that. I should probably tell you not to throw your youth away or something like that, but when I was your age I wouldn’t have listened. My mom used to say that trying to talk a teenager out of a romance was like trying to screw the lid off a jar the wrong way.” 

Oh, Norma. There were so many things that Shelly couldn’t tell her about, she’d be disappointed and that would hurt so bad. They told each other plenty, of course – Shelly knew why Norma’s husband wasn’t around anymore, for one thing, and Norma was one to talk about teenagers when she and Ed Hurley had been making eyes at each other and probably way more than that.  They’d been high school sweethearts. Then they had to go and get married to other people. 

Shelly was pretty sure she understood Norma now, because there was no way she was going to stop loving Bobby Briggs. The more she found out about Twin Peaks every day, the surer she became that just about everyone was at least a little bad. She could be bad. She wasn’t going to wait around for anything anymore. They were going to give each other the entire world and feed it to each other like a big slab of cherry pie. She'd kill for it.

[corn-fanfiction]

quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Two: unum denique mane

Chapter One

Description: Anora arrived on the first day of class. Anora visits an old house.

Anora quickly discovered that the first day of school, whether you're eight or eighteen or twenty eight, is terrifying, regardless of whether or not a person is disguised as their deceased brother. 

In the short time between Joseph's death and the start of term, Anora settled her parents’ estate because she knew she wouldn't be able to maintain the house. The money left over, of which there was still a substantial amount, she tucked away in a savings account. It did not last long. What came to light next was her father's hidden gambling habits. The money from the estate cut in half.

She knew that rent for even a cheap flat and what her, or Joseph's, scholarship didn't cover would begin to total high eventually. Her family lawyer did try to ask questions about why she sold the estate, to his credit, but she managed to wave them away. No one wants to engage with an emotionally volatile young woman who has enough money to survive, even with the bare essentials, on her own. She's of no consequence to anyone, hardly to herself.

She couldn't stay in the dormitories anyway, that much was abundantly clear. Not only would it be strange for someone almost thirty, or supposedly thirty, to share a room with someone as young as eighteen, but there was the standing issue of gender. Anora doubted that she could last more than a week in a building full of men. Men are less shameful about their bodies. Sooner or later someone would wonder why hers is always covered. 

On the first day she likely tried too hard to perfect her appearance. She spent close to an hour on the look of her clothes and hair. If it was too neat it might draw attention. If it was too unruly it would definitely draw attention. She tried to think back to how Joseph would dress before he left. Then all she could think about was his smile or the way he'd help her cross the small streams behind the cottage in the hot country summers. She stopped worrying about her appearance then. After she was dressed, the only thing she truly paid attention to was tucking her locket under her shirt and smoothing putty over her earlobes to cover her piercings. 

Her first lecture of the day was history of science, as condensed as that subject could be, then a study hall period, then a mathematics course at noon.

While the two siblings both enjoyed each subject, where Joseph was perhaps more distinguished in chemistry, Anora excelled at maths. She more than loved the way every problem had an exact solution. Even in the sciences things can get too theoretical. When she could break a problem down to its very core with a handful of numbers, Anora felt more powerful than she ever did in a suit.

The lecture hall for the maths class was taller than it was wide, framed by windows that allowed for the brightest light of day to stream in. Whoever the professor, he had a handful of charms to personalize the space, strangely of which was a dead houseplant. Not that Anora had room for judgment; she'd kill the toughest cactus alive if given enough time.

Joseph was good with plants.

She sat next to a young man towards the middle, for the middle was often the safest place to be. In the very front or the very back prove time and time again to be too conspicuous. A professor wants to call on students too eager or too shy. Of course, Anora wanted to excel, and she wanted her professors to know that she deserved her seat, but maybe they didn't need to be reminded all day every day.

When she sat, the young man next to her greeted her with a wide white smile and coiffed black hair.

“Don't think I've seen you around. I'm Lucius,” he said, extending a hand for a friendly greeting which Anora accepted. She settled with herself early on that taking a vow of silence would not help her case, so she was fortunate in her ability to lower her voice without it sounding forced.

“Joseph. So you've been around then?”

“More or less. My parents were very enthusiastic about orientations and guided tours of the campus. Most of us met in the introductory week.”

At the “us”, Lucius gestured vaguely to the young me around them. Anora began to wonder just how well she fit in. Even at twenty eight she knew she could easily pass for a young man of eighteen. But Joseph's paperwork said thirty, so that was her age.

Anora was looking for a natural way to end the conversation when a figure in a long robe entered the room and closed the door behind him. Immediately, the chatter around her ceased.

“Good afternoon, class. As this is a prerequisite course, I feel it is safe to assume introductions are in order. My name is Professor James Moriarty. You may recognize me from both your schedules and the required reading for this class. It is my book but to defend the vanity, it was peer reviewed by the academic standards committee, my colleagues across universities, and my neighbor.”

The class chuckled and Anora fell in with them. There was nothing particularly imposing about the man save for his supposed notoriety, and there was something comforting in his voice.

“Of course, my neighbor is eighty seven and doesn't speak a word of the Queen's English, so how much her opinion counts for is still open for debate.”

Again, there was a light laughter that flitted through the hall. Anora smiled. If it was going to be like this the entire time, things might just work out in her favor.

-

“Alive?”

“The last time I saw him, yes.”

Holmes chews on his dinner as if he isn't delivering world-shattering news.

“And when exactly was the last time?”

“When he was hauling himself out of the river on one side, and I myself on the other.”

Anora gawks at him.

“And that was the last?”

“Am I to believe you're in school?”

He's insulting her intelligence but she doesn't care.

“Again, you joke as if you either don't think or don't know the ridiculousness of what you're saying.”

“Well, between the two of us, I'm more inclined to believe myself when it comes to the things I say.”

“Oh, I'm quite sure you are. Have you ever thought to consider that as the source for your neuroticism?”

Mary places a hand atop her husband's. 

“John, maybe we should try this a different-”

“No,” Holmes sets down his fork and pulls the napkin from his collar. “We don't have time to cater to the whim of emotions. Apologies, dear Mary, but this must be handled swiftly and urgently.”

The detective’s head ticks and Anora's face goes hot at his quip about emotion.

“What could possibly lead you to believe I would have any inkling as to his whereabouts?”

Everything Anora says is laced with a light laughter because she's trying to outdo him. She's trying to catch him up in his own words to keep any more from spilling out. She's really only protecting herself and her stupid pride. Holmes knows this. He taps a finger against the table cloth.

“It's one thing to ask me that, but if you expect me to answer, then you're insulting us both. You know why.”

It isn't because he thinks she's still working with the professor. It's because he believes she has to know something about him that the detective doesn't, or couldn't possibly know. Because of the nature of their relationship.

“Insult? You mean to speak to me about insult? What about this performance?” Anora turns to the doctor. “I came to you at the church out of sympathy. I took your invitation out of goodwill for you and your wife.”

Anora stands, tries to gather herself. She speaks softer to Holmes.

“I don't know where he is. I don't want to know, I hope to God I never see him or you again.”

She breaks into the hall and retrieves her coat. Mary protests, someone stands from the table, and Anora's hands are shaking too furiously to get the buttons on her coat done right.

“Miss Leeds!” It's Mary's voice that calls out to her and the woman finds her in the foyer. She sighs. “Anora. I'm sorry about that-”

“Don't apologize for him. I know who he is, that's why I meant what I said.”

Anora finally finishes with the last button. Mary puts a gentle hand on her arm.

“You can help them do a good thing. A just thing.”

In her eyes, Anora can tell that she believes her own words. And perhaps there's truth to them, but it's a truth she doesn't want to entertain right now, maybe not ever.

“Mrs. Watson-”

“Mary,” she smiles.

“Mary. You seem absolutely lovely, and I wish nothing but the best for you and your family.”

Anora pats Mary's hand and pulls away with a sense of finality. “I'm sorry to have wasted good food.”

On the street, once she's out of eyesight, Anora clutches her stomach and heaves a sob into an alleyway. Couples cast her strange glances (who is drunk at this time of day in this part of town?) but she recovers in a timely fashion. She's not very familiar with her surroundings but she's studied enough maps of London to know the area, and there's only one place she wants to go to right now.

Her fingers find the hidden key that resides under a rock by his mailbox. When the pain was still fresh, when it mattered more, letters were practically spilling out of the box. Anora would read the envelopes on the days she made a point to pass by. But now it sits empty, because no one lives here anymore.

She would come here more frequently in the immediate months that followed but recently, she has felt the hollow aching subsiding more and more. Sherlock Holmes saw to reopening that wound tonight. And for what? To mock her?

Anora lights the fireplace first as the sun has already set and the house is freezing. She dusts cobwebs off what she can. A walk to a wardrobe reveals one of her old nightgowns, some forgotten tattered thing. She strips from her dress and slips into the shift, then covers with one of his robes. Walking back to the study, she mindlessly acquires his textbook, a bottle of wine, and settles onto the couch, under a mound of blankets. It's not so bad, now, with the flames and alcohol and weight keeping her warm. She doesn't open the book; she doesn't need to. She simply likes having it around. 

Halfway through the bottle, Anora begins to watch the flames cast dancing shadows onto the rich paneling of the walls. The statuettes on the mantle become tall creatures and their silhouettes cut against a window that displays a star-lit sky. She can't see the moon from here. 

One of the blankets is fur, and the hairs tickle her cheek. She leans into the sensation. Everything reminds her of him.

Maybe it's the heat, it must be the heat, because it feels faintly like breath fans her face. Lips press lightly to her temple and breathe.

“You match your namesake perfectly. Did you know that?”

It's when she feels a strand of hair come loose that Anora bolts upwards on the couch, breathing heavily. The bottle lays empty and discarded on the floor with no evidence of a spill. The fire is dying. Outside, the stars are beginning to fade.

And sitting in one of the larger chairs, half concealed by the shadows the dark are still able to provide, is the detective.

Anora is surprised, but still too tired and drunk to show it. Instead, she wipes her eyes and uncovers herself from the mountain of blankets. 

“Have a good show?” she asks as she stretches, even though the movement of blood sends a blinding pulse behind her eyes. She winces and stands.

“No, I was remarkably bored. You talk in your sleep.”

She knows. She doesn't ask what he heard.

“And how long did you sniff around before you settled on sitting there and staring at me?”

He steeples his fingers in quiet contemplation. “A while.”

Anora rolls her eyes, scoffs. She begins to fold blankets. “And? Did you find what you were looking for?”

Her back is to him. She hears him rise from the seat but doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of turning around, so she focuses intently on the task at hand.

“Ad honorem meum. To the one who matches her namesake-”

Towards the middle of the Latin phrase she knows what he's quoting. Anora spins around and snatches the textbook from him, forgetting the blankets entirely.

“Give me that! It's mine.”

The detective surveys her. 

“Dust that's settled into the fabric of the cover insinuates that your beloved book has been sitting neglected for some time. You left it here. Or, you leave it here.”

At his words, Anora is torn between clutching the book tighter as though to protect it, or casting it into what remains of the fire just to prove him wrong. Ultimately, she places it back on the table where she found it, right onto its perfect shape in the dust.

“If I have it at home…oh, it doesn't matter, does it? Not when I've come back here.”

“Do you do this often?”

“Not recently. Consider it a relapse.”

Detective Holmes sinks his hands into his pockets and clears his throat.

“Yes, I suppose that's partially my doing.” She glares at him. “Or entirely my doing. Rest assured that after you left I received a stern talking to from Mrs. Watson who assured me that if I didn't apologize, she would name the baby Mycroft.”

And though she didn't let it show, the image of Mary Watson threatening the great Sherlock Holmes amused Anora.

“So?”

He sighs.

“I apologize for my bombardment of you, but I didn't think that you'd speak with us willingly.”

“Not you, no.”

“Again, I understand John's appeal, but apart from the obvious, how have I offended you?”

Anora's fingers find her locket.

“I asked one thing of you that night. Do you remember?”

His face hardly changes and Anora is certain he remembers. She hopes it haunts him forever.

“‘Don't let him get away.’”

“And yet.”

“As if anyone could have anticipated both of us plummeting down the falls and surviving the impact of the water.”

“You always think of every answer, don't you? Then what do you need me for?”

“I couldn't outthink him”

“Seems to me you did well enough.”

“And yet…”

He trails off. Anora chews on her lip.

“If you could find Sebastian Moran, it won't take you long to find James.”

Holmes certainly catches how casually she says the Professor's first name but it's too late to cover for it.

“You seem to think that if you never say it aloud, if no one else does, that it won't be true. If I've learned anything, and I'd like to think I have-”

“I'm sure you would-”

“It's that denial does not turn the heart the way it does the mind. I think it would be best if you accepted what we both know to be true.”

He's stepped closer, trying to penetrate her defenses without risking himself in the process. Anora hugs her arms, if only to provide herself one more layer of protection. 

“You let me worry about myself and what I want.”

“How convincing can you be? That you want to find him? That your reunion wouldn't end in death?”

Anora almost laughs.

“Too convincing, I'm sure.”

She looks around the house and finally acknowledges that she'll likely never see James here again, and that he'll likely never be able to return to his home. The thought of such a grand and beautiful house sitting abandoned makes her heart ache. It deserves better.

Perhaps they all do.

“You'll never truly be satisfied until you know how this ends, and you'll never know the ending unless you're a part of it.”

“I'm a lunatic,” Anora mutters to herself. She smiles at the thought.

“You're a student. You're curious. And you deserve it.”

The word ‘deserve’ strikes her. Good or bad, she deserves to see this through. She must.

Slowly, as if she has to force the movement, she nods.

“Alright.”

[bots-and-cons]

Another update and kinda venting lol

As usual, I'm gonna put the update thing here, so you don't have to look for it. So, it's probably been over a week since I last posted at this point, but I'm trying to work on a new post. I have like three WIPs for this blog and two for the other one, so it's not that I haven't been writing, it's just that I can't finish anything, which is annoying. I'm gonna try to post tomorrow though, because I hate when I go over a week without posting. It still happens a lot though...

Venting starts here, just me yelling into the internet void...

When I started my first writing blog (@herofics) back in June of 2017, I used to post twice a day. TWICE A DAY, for months probably closer to a year, I'm not really sure. I've just been thinking that it was an absolutely insane thing to do, and I have no idea how I managed it while I was so badly depressed. Nowadays, I post maybe once or twice a week, three times if I'm really motivated and have a lot of time and inspiration. I can't even imagine how crappy those posts were tbh, I didn't put much time into them and I just wasn't as good at writing as I am now. I've improved so much and I'm so happy about that.

I was supposed to get myself another practical training position for the fall, but I haven't gotten around to it. I was actually supposed to do it in May and let my class's tutor teacher know before she started her vacation at the beginning of June, but guess who has still not done that... I honestly fucking hate that I procrastinate so much, like why can't I just do stuff immediately or at least in a timely manner. Nope, I'm here two months later, complaining on the internet and still not just doing it. I honestly just feel so overwhelmed by the whole thing. I got so exhausted during my first practical training in the spring, and those were like five-hour days. I have no idea how I'm supposed to survive eight weeks with five eight-hour days each, and manage school on top of that, like just fuck me, I'm not built for that. I've honestly been thinking that I probably can't manage full-time work once I graduate, if I graduate...

I'm 24 and I can't drive either. It gives me such horrific anxiety and pretty much an instant panic attack if I even try. On top of that, I honestly don't want to drive, because I'm terrified I might act on my intrusive thoughts. I just simply don't want to drive because of the reasons mentioned above. Since I don't have an official autism diagnosis, I can't access any of the ride services that would provide. At least I'm pretty sure Kela has a service like that here in Finland.

I know I say this pretty much every time I make one of these posts, but I'm doing okay. I'm just kinda scared for the fall when school starts again, because I don't know if I have the energy to do both the practical training and school. I need to finish my summer courses too, and I'm dreading the swedish since I haven't even started it yet. Though one of my classmates did the whole thing in about an hour, so apparently it's not very hard. I just really need to get it started...

Anyway, thanks if you read this and remember to stay hydrated :D

[queen-vv]

Top 5 games you consider niche :3

Ooooh a hard one, because I don't really know what counts as niche or not.......... I mean I'm sure plenty of people think like Monster Hunter or Souls are niche, but I certainly wouldn't say so.... Hmm but anyway... I suppose I'll define them on a nebulous scale by whether it's something I can see people not liking but I do, and also how much I've heard people talk about it, I guess lol

5: Hmm well I'd have said Armored Core was niche before 6 came out, but now it's come back to the fore of From Soft's portfolio I'd not be so sure. However I will still include Armored Core: For Answer, since it's from the older generations and has a pretty steep learning curve with it's awkward controls, at times punishing difficulty, and very detailed customisation system. However when you get good (or watch someone else that's good), you're in for some extremely cool mecha action, with like actual human controlled full speed Itano Circus kinda thing ;p

4: Satisfactory! I know you know this one Mika, and know that it's a really technical and brain melting kind of game! So much maths required, but it's extremely absorbing all the same! I lost weeks to this game for real lol

3: The S.T.A.L.K.E.R series (but mainly just the first one since I haven't played much of the second one yet)! I really liked these games, but kind of wanted more from them in the end than what I got, but that's perhaps just me being greedy! Before playing them I'd not heard very much about them, but they're fun survival fpsrpgs! The first game was fun right up to the end where the translation broke and the final mission was basically all voiced in the original Russian because I guess the dub didn't get that far, as well as the combat and idle barks from characters throughout the game are very rarely translated either. But the clunkiness of all aspects are what I really found most charming tbh! The semi-open world, the cool navigation around the Zone anomalies, the monsters and factions, the tough item and inventory management, all very cool to me! I hope to springboard off into playing more Eastern Eurpean games as time goes by, with Pathologic 2 hovering in my steam library waiting for me to get too close. The only thing that'd make it better is if it were about lesbians travelling in the Zone! Or, wait, that seems kinda familiar...

2: Wizardry: Labyrinth of Lost Souls, and more generally Japanese, grindy DRPGS (dungeon rpgs, for the uninitiated ;p)! I've basically never heard anyone talk about these games before trying this one, which is very archetypical and relatively simplistic with it's class balances, being only 8 possible classes in a party of 6, but the dungeon exploration is absolutely addictive! I love it! Other games in the genre like Elminage have a lot more variety in that category, with like 3 times as many classes to choose from and stuff! It's moreso niche by my second category, since I've barely heard them talked about but I'd highly recommend anyone at all play one, since they're super fun! I'd especially especially recommend them if you like anime that has that kind of video gamey fantasy setting, and especially especially especially if you like Dungeon Meshi, since that very much feels like it's taking place in a specifically Wizardry drpg setting, with the way it goes out of it's way to explain and contextualise game mechanics from such games in a more realistic sense! Just very good anyway I will absolutely evangelise these games heavily!!!!

1: Fear and Hunger (1 and 2, but especially 1): This is the only one I knew absolutely it'd be on here lol. A very difficult and obtuse indie horror jrpg/dungeon crawler which really, *really* doesn't shy away from portraying sexual violence is about as niche as I can think of by my former metric. However, by the latter I have heard at least one fairly prominent-in-certain-circles youtuber talk about it. That said I do definitely think it evens out to be the nichest thing I can think of that I actually like! It absolutely has it's problematic aspects, depending on how you feel about the sexual violence in the horror setting and the perhaps kind of questionable mapping of fantasy concepts onto an Earth like setting, like with pretty much all the black characters being amoral mystic sorcerers (which I don't feel qualified to speak on but do wonder about any nuance). The second game does tone down the sexual violence at least a little bit, and prominently includes a textual trans woman as the box-art character, so that's neat. I definitely wouldn't recommend these games without a disclaimer to do some research and introspection about what you can get past in art lol.