#anyway while I’m gone I’m going to be working on writing those snippets so yeah~

[mitano-omori]

(On a mini vacation, so SunKel week oneshots will resume when I’m back BUT…)

Fun little detail, when they were kids, everyone just assumed Sunny and Basil were a couple. Everyone assumed this EXCEPT Sunny and Basil.

And then there was Hero’s death, and now… They don’t talk anymore.

[folerdetdufoler]

hello! i love your even/isak fics - you take the characters on such a wonderful emotional journey. i know you just finished with posting six of one but i really loved that one and wondered if you had any plans to give us a peak into how everything is going with olivia and even and isak (and arthur!) in the future? thanks so much for your lovely writing which has brought me much joy - i look forward to whatever you share next!

thank you so much for the message! i’m really glad you enjoyed it. i don’t have any plans for updates, but that’s only because i didn’t have any plans to finish it in the first place! i hadn’t outlined a proper arc for them, and didn’t know the last chapter was going to be the last chapter until it just was. there were also these snippets of things that sounded fun to write, but i hadn’t figured out how to work them in, or whether i had like, the narrative movement to get to those points, without dragging out the story longer than was worth it. like i’d spent so much time being afraid of the olivia reveal that it was built up too much, and i didn’t have a bigger climax to reach after it.

anyway, i though a really funny scene would be olivia having to witness isak and even kissing. it wouldn’t happen naturally—she would demand a kiss just so she could get that particular PDA milestone over with. this, of course, would make it terribly awkward for isak and even, and olivia would be more upset that they were bad kissers than the fact that they were kissing. i imagine it could happen at school one day, perhaps when isak managed to leave work early and meet even at school, but the olivia and arthur and teo would still be lounging in the office. after endless teasing, they would kiss, and the three teens would send up homemade scorecards. arthur would give an earnest 9 (he saves the 10s for chris), and olivia would hit them with a devastating 3.2. teo, torn between arthur’s kindness and olivia’s coolness, would give a midrange score and try to coach them for their next one. truly ridiculous, but fitting the vibes of that office.

i could’ve gone further, into arthur’s russetid, a time when olivia would be testing her boundaries with isak, and thus with even. they’d be able to work on parenting together, though up against the historical challenge of isak getting emma pregnant during his russetid. like, what rules can you enforce on someone who can always respond with “at least i’m not getting anyone pregnant!”? possibly none! but because olivia and arthur aren’t the party animals that isak and even think they have the potential to be, nothing truly scandalous would happen. but it’ll be a rough month until arthur’s graduation and they eventually figure it out…for now. olivia and teo’s russ would be a whole other story.

which, by the way, is how they’re intended to go: all the way. by their third year i saw them brokering a deal with isak and even and emma: olivia and teo could move into even’s apartment for their third year, and even could move in with isak. by that point even was already sleeping over pretty regularly, so it simply made too much sense for them to trade apartments. but isak and even had just gotten used to having a teenaged daughter by their side, and i can’t imagine it would be easy to let her go. and when they’d spent too many dinners arguing over the giant step olivia was taking with her boyfriend at such a young age, she would quickly argue that if isak had actually made a move on even while they were in school, living together during their third year would’ve definitely happened. and she, per usual, per canon, wouldn’t be wrong.

so yeah, no plans to go there, but definitely the potential. i haven’t written isak and even as parents much, and even with this one they’ve only just started being parents; there’s plenty of space for more. i would probably come back to it eventually.

but! i have other updates i owe first, and let me write them out here so i have them somewhere:

• fredag 51:50 update

• mondays at sixteen update (med et barn)

• and, while i’ve been dragging my feet on fredag, i started private chef!even at isak’s house in the hamptons

you’ll likely get those before coming back to charlie and lucy. oh! which, by the way, was supposed to be the ending. for a while i thought they would have a whole conversation about what olivia would call even now that they were a family. but teasing him about “daddy” felt weird, and even had already had the whole “being called a dad” conversation with astrid. still, the whole point of their charlie and lucy nicknames was that she had been calling him a special name for his closer role in her life. she’d been calling him her dad from that very first high-five. so they would have a tortuous conversation with olivia offering “pappa” and dad #2” and “doc” (à la bugs bunny, but that was sonja’s joke), and even would desperately beg her not to, knowing she still would, and olivia would just wink, finishing the story with a “good luck, charlie.”

[leedee013]

WIP Wednesday

I'll be once again participating in @kedreeva 's game this week! Let's see how this goes.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Here is what I have to offer:

1. Silly Little Jean Moreau Fic 2. Etienne 3. Baby Jean 4. Needle AU

Feel free to send multiple asks btw!

Snippet from Chapter 6 of Silly Little Jean Moreau Fic below the cut:

“I’m scared.”

“Jean, there’s nothing to be scared of! It’s just mac’n’cheese, I make it all the time for the team and they've said nothing but good things.”

Jeremy had insisted on cooking for Jean that night, and although it had gone better than he’d expected based on the fact that the kitchen hadn't started on fire. “Why is it that color?”

“Jean, just try it!”

“How do I even eat it?”

“It doesn’t matter, just scoop up a few noodles and try it!”

Jean frowned at the gooey, brightly colored pasta abomination on the plate in front of him. He was pretty sure that saying that there was cheese in the dish that was in front of him was one of the most egregious lies he’d heard in his life. Was there a cheese shortage he hadn’t heard about that made access to real cheese unattainable? How could anyone look at something so aggressively orangey-yellow and think that it was real cheese? Still, Jeremy’s bright blue eyes were trained on him, making escape impossible by pinning him in place. 

With a sigh, Jean picked up his fork, stabbed a few of the poor noodles, and popped the helping into his mouth before he could overthink it. The flavor was less intense than the coloring implied, mostly coming across as a mixture of salty and creamy. He hated that he didn't mind it at all, or that he actually enjoyed it. 

Jeremy smirked across the table at Jean as he scooped his own forkful of the mac’n’cheese into his mouth. “Told you it's good,” he said after swallowing. 

Jean shrugged. “It’s alright.” 

Jeremy grinned, a lopsided, toothy grin that dimpled just one of Jeremy’s cheeks. “I knew you’d like it.” 

“So this is what you ate when you were a kid?” Jean said before scooping up another mouthful of mac’n’cheese. 

Jeremy nodded. “At least, this is what we ate when Daniel used to make dinner for us, when we were all little.”

“Daniel’s your older brother, right?”

“Yeah. Our parents worked weird shifts back then, so my grandparents took care of us when neither of my parents could make it home in time for dinner. Daniel kept asking them if he could help though. So once he was old enough, grandma let him help cook dinner every now and then. Mac’n’cheese was his go-to those days. He taught me to always make it with a few tablespoons of sour cream, actually.”

“What do your parents do for work?”

Jeremy ate a few forkfuls of the noodles before answering. “Well, back then my dad worked as a lab technician at a hospital while my mom was doing meteorology work for a local news channel. Nowadays they pretty much do the same thing, but now they have seniority and positions higher up. What about you? Any siblings?”

Jean was grateful that he’d eaten the last of his plate of mac'n'cheese before Jeremy spoke, or else his last bites would have felt and tasted like cardboard. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, trying to force himself to take a deep breath.

[nicksbestie]

hey hi I desperately need to project, is there a way you could write something like autistic ashton that starts unmasking around the boys bc he's more comfortable around them but then after hanging out or doing whatever he's just overthinking everything and beating himself up over being "too autistic" 🧍

sorry it took so long!!! yes i can :)

Anxiety

word count: 827

warnings: anxiety, a snippet of self hatred, talk of unmasking

<3 enjoy!

He really shouldn’t be so worried about this. It isn’t that big of a deal, or, it shouldn’t be. All of the guys knew he was autistic, they were fully accepting, and yet he’s still beating himself up for it. The big question is, why? He had to chalk it up to just pure anxiety, because there was no way that there was a logical reason for this. 

Now that he was home, he was overthinking every single behavior, word, and move he had made or spoken while he was hanging out with the guys. Luke had asked him about a drum part he’d been working on fixing and he’d gone through explaining every single piece of his drum set, and Michael had complimented the crystal around his neck and he’d spent forty five minutes talking about the different kinds. 

To be entirely fair, they knew those were two of his biggest special interests, so he shouldn’t feel bad for talking so much about them, especially when he was prompted to do so, but he did anyway. For twenty five years, Ashton had masked his autism, and was just learning how to undo that. He’d been diagnosed later in life, just after he turned twenty four, but he still didn’t know how to completely drop the persona he’d been living in for two and a half decades. That kind of change is really hard, and he was terrified he would become too much for the people he loved the most, his band. 

He didn’t want them to think that he was a bother, or suddenly a lot to handle, or anything of the sort, so when he was unmasking around them, he only showed a part or two about him. He still kept up some of the masking, trying his hardest to read between the lines of neurotypical questions, desperately trying to hide the fact that he couldn’t read their tones at any point in time. 

But today, he’d continued to speak for so long, he’d stimmed much more than he had previously allowed himself to, and he was so much louder than normal. He hadn’t seen the look on his bandmates faces after they all said goodbye and he walked away, but he was sure that they wore matching expressions of disgust. 

If he had actually taken the time to study them, he would’ve seen the bright smiles on each of them. They were so happy to see more of the authentic Ashton, and wished he would let them in on more. But they also knew that they had to be very careful with him, as he was not only a naturally anxious person, but he was still learning to unmask himself, and trying to push that could be detrimental to his journey.

But Ashton was sitting at home, absolutely miserable, unaware of all of these things. He jumped when his phone rang, relaxing slightly when he saw it was only Calum calling. However, he tensed right back up when he thought about why Calum might be calling.

Was he being kicked out of the band? Did they hate him, or want him to go back to acting the way he did before he got his diagnosis? Or worse, if there even was worse?

He picked up the phone, unable to hide the shake in his voice. 

“H-Hello?”

Calum’s smile faded a bit at the anxious tone, hoping Ashton wasn’t spiraling.

He was, but Calum didn’t have to know that. Not right now. 

“Hey Ash! How are you, man?” 

Ashton relaxed once more when Calum’s tone, cheery and friendly, wafted into the phone. It couldn’t be bad news if he sounded so happy about it, right?

“I’m fine, did you need something?” 

Calum coughed slightly on the other end before speaking. 

“Yeah, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

No. Nonononononono…

He took a deep breath before replying. 

“Okay, what is it?”

“You know that thing you’ve been doing since you got diagnosed? What’s it called again? Un- no, it’s not uncovering..” 

Ashton’s smile dropped. 

“Unmasking?” 

Calum sounded like he perked up again.

“Yes! That! I was talking with Luke and Michael about it, after we saw you today. We just wanted to tell you that we’ve seen the way your personality has changed, well, not changed, but you’ve become more yourself, if that makes sense. We’re really happy for you, and just wanted you to know that you will always have our full support.”

Ashton was in shock. 

“You mean, you don’t hate me?” 

Calum let out a laugh, but it was more of a shocked laugh than anything else. 

“God, no. We love you, we always will. We just want you to be happy, and we’ve seen how much happier you look. You seem healthy.” 

As they wrapped up and hung up the call, Ashton’s smile matched the ones he hadn’t seen on the rest of the band’s faces earlier that day. 

[darkisrising]

Prom!Steddie fic...

I’m drunk and writing things I shouldn’t while ignoring the things that need doing so... here. Have a snippet from a potential Stranger Things WIP end game Steddie fic...

Prom!Steddie

There’s not much left to the town of Hawkins by the time prom rolls around, but the Hawkins High School Alumni Association—or whatever is left of them—aren’t about to let losing an eighth of the town to landslides and three-fifths of the town’s population to that first, panicked, mass exodus stop them.

They are a legion of former cheer captains and popular girls, and even if they’ve long since traded their Lip Smackers for Virginia Slims, they still have school spirit dammit and  they will not let themselves be cowed by a silly little apocalypse.

It’s kind of inspiring, actually, or at least that’s what Eddie tells himself when he first spots the flyers papered around the school announcing the prom’s theme (When You Wish Upon A Star) and feels something stirring in the pit of his belly close to where he’d  been gored by a flock of hell bats not too long ago.

“Indigestion,” Dustin says over lunch when Eddie admits as much to him over a course of fine dining that consists of mainly liquids (for Eddie, still dealing with a perforated…everything) and meatloaf (for the other kids, which is a solid brick of mystery meat direct from the lunch lady’s carnival of horrors, aka the deep freezer, but it might as well be a filet mignon for how badly Eddie is eyeing it after being off solids for so long). “That’s what that feeling is. It has to be.”

“Perhaps, my young apprentice,” Eddie says in his best Emperor Palpatine voice as he fiddles with the straw in his box of apple juice.

Dustin shakes his head and the hair he’s been growing out since they’d made it back from the Upside Down gives a little flounce around his shoulders. “Come on, man. No way you’re feeling some kind of school pride this late in the game.”

“Yeah,” Sinclair agrees from across the sticky laminate. “Seems suspicious you want to start being Mr School Spirit after everything that’s happened. And, anyway, you could have gone to a million proms by now. Haven’t you been a senior for like twenty years?”

“Two,” Eddie corrects, affecting an air of being more miffed than he actually feels. Honestly, after everything he and the kids have been through, he’s not sure he could ever really be mad at them, though it sure doesn’t stop any of them from testing him on that on a daily basis. “Besides, it’s not school pride or spirit. It’s, I dunno, nostalgia.”

“Nostalgia?” Will repeats with a raising of his eyebrows, his brown eyes giant in his pale, pale face. “Don’t you have to be gone to actually miss a place?”

“Fine.” Eddie grows his hands up with theatrical flare and it only makes his innards ache a little. “Early onset nostalgia. I’m pre-gaming nostalgia. What does it even matter? So I want to go to prom. Big deal. Anyway, it probably won’t happen. Not like I could get a date. Not when everyone here still avoids me like the plague.”

And that’s even after Hopper went the extra mile, doing all those television appearances and profiles and the infamous 60 Minutes interview in his newly re-acquired chief of police duds to try to work some folksie, small-town-hero-recently-back-from-the-missing-and-presumed-dead magic to clear Edward J. Munson’s name.

For all the good that did.

Though Dustin did manage to tape a few on his VCR and Hopper’s squirming discomfort as Diane Sawyer pokes and prods to get to the truth behind the Hawkins Hellfire Cult is a thing of beauty that they still regularly roll out to watch along with bowls of popcorn and Mrs. Byer’s collection of quilts on otherwise quiet Friday nights.

Eddie squeezes his juice box with a satisfying crush of cardboard, opening his mouth to catch the stream that spurts out with a practiced slurp. He’s quickly hit with a sugar rush that doesn’t really detract from the way his eyes rove around the lunch room, haunted and hungry.

He knows it’s a long shot to believe he could ever find a date to the prom. An even longer shot to believe he’d be welcomed at the door with open arms rather than by a couple of Christ-loving yahoos who would rather string him to the back of their pick up and drag him through the corn than admit that maybe the kid with the long hair and love of death metal and tattoos isn’t actually Satan’s love child with Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.

Still, maybe it could have been okay to dress up and hold someone close and dance beneath the crepe paper ceiling under the slow turn of a disco ball. Or something, not that he’s given it all that much thought or anything.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. Eddie doesn’t need to go.

He’ll live.

[fernweh-writes]

You could ask my question, if possible, of course. With the Slachers (Michael, Jason, Brahms, Vincent and Bo) with her beloved looking innocent and even angelic, but she is extremely jealous and possessive when a victim or survivor flirts with her slachers to the point of saying something in context: " he is mine !!" (while the reader embraces Slachers). What would be the reaction of the slachers, about the corpotamento of his beloved?

I don’t write for Jason, sorry but I can definitely do the rest. Since I don’t write for many slashers, with requests like this one I usually do a little snippet for all of the slashers I do write for. But I like this idea a lot so without further ado…

P.S. this took me so much longer than I expected, I definitely got a little invested in these lol. I left out Thomas and Jesse but I may go back and add them at a later time idk yet.

-Fern🌿

Slashers x Possessive S/O

Michael Meyers

Your innocent and kind nature would be one of the things that made Michael interested in you. You were the first person to take the time to actually figure him out rather than checking him off as Evil™️ and treating him as such. He also likes the fact that he can easily make you flustered, it feeds his need for control. Knowing that he can simply press himself against you and leave you blushing both pleases and amuses him.

We all know that Michael is very possessive. He often stalks you while you’re at work or out in town running errands. At this point, it’s no longer because he feels the need to be predatory, he’s just making sure that what’s his is safe from any harm.

One night you had decided to go out with a few friends, which Michael wasn’t very excited about, but eventually he allowed it. It was one of those busy clubs/bars that had opened recently, so of course the place was crowded. This left Michael with no choice but to ditch the mask while he followed you, another thing he wasn’t happy about.

He ended up sitting on the other side of the place by himself with his eyes glued to you. He didn’t like you being around so many people. Michael was so focused on watching you that he had barely even noticed the woman walk up and make herself cozy in the seat opposite of him. Now his attention was on her while she grinned at him like the Cheshire Cat, pushing her cleavage together to make it more apparent in her already low cut dress.

Michael could’ve sworn that you had teleported, after all he had only take his eyes off of you for a second. Now you had your arms wrapped around him with your head resting on his neck. “Can we help you,” you asked the girl in front of you. Michael had never heard your voice sound so cold.

The girl began to twirl her hair, not deterred by the fact that you were running your hands over Michael. “I was just wondering what such a handsome man was doing here all by himself,” she purred. She attempted to reach forward and grab his hand but you were quick to smack it away before Michael could even move.

“He’s not here by himself he’s with me. And if I were you I would keep your hands to yourself and away from what’s mine.” After you said that it didn’t take long for Michael to drag you back home. To him it was your way of saying that you were in fact a permanent part of Michaels life. Plus you threatening someone when you’re usually so polite was a change of pace that left Michael wanting. You can definitely expect the girl to turn up missing on the news soon after that night as well.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms adored your innocence and kindness. You never hesitated to follow the rules and care for him, which is why he kept you around. After all he needs a nanny that is actually going to take care of him. Brahms also had an easy time revealing himself to you since after the initial shock of it all you were delighted to find out you weren’t being haunted and that you weren’t in a huge countryside mansion all by yourself.

Seeing as Brahms is a major introvert and goes absolutely feral if there’s someone new in his house that he hasn’t allowed you usually have nothing to worry about. However, suppose something happens where Malcolm has to leave for a few weeks, meaning that a new girl is assigned to deliver the groceries until Malcolm returns.

You were in the kitchen chopping up ingredients for lunch when she arrived for the first time. You had to admit that she was pretty, she was tall and athletic looking with perfect curls. It was hard for you to not notice that she was blonde, Brahms had a thing for blondes…

“So Malcolm told me that Brahms isn’t dead or a ghost, is that right?” You didn’t like the fact Malcolm had told this random girl about Brahms but you muttered in agreement anyways. She helped you put up the rest of the groceries in silence, not speaking again until she had opened the door to leave. “So is he hot? Usually people with this much money that aren’t old are always hot. If he is I might just have to stick around for a little while longer.”

That struck a nerve. “He’s not available,” you said sharply and she faltered. “What do you mean?” It was easy to tell she hadn’t expected that kind of answer, much less the attitude you had suddenly adopted. “He isn’t single. So although he is hot, trust me, I would know, you can’t have him. He’s mine.” She quickly apologized and left, slamming the door shut behind her. You could also hear Brahms moving around in the walls nearby, letting you know he must have heard everything.

Shortly after you found Brahms wrapped around you while you finished making lunch. “So now I’m yours hmm?” You could hear the amusement in his voice. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss, one hand finding it’s way into his hair. After pulling away you told him, “You’ve always been mine Brahmsy. My good boy.” He let out a small whine at your praise, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Vincent Sinclair

You were Vincent’s muse. He absolutely adored you from the way you acted to the way you looked. To him there was no aspect of you that wasn’t perfect. In other words he was absolutely obsessed with you. After all, you did take care of him and even helped Bo keep Ambrose up and running.

It’s no secret that Vincent was shy, but he was definitely intimidating as well. So you knew that the girl in front of him that was doing a terrible job of flirting was only doing so in a poor attempt to make it out alive. Still, watching her twirl her hair and smile at him made something inside of you snap.

“Come on handsome, you got to want some kind of company. I’m sure you’re so lonely here all by yourself… I could help with that.” She attempted to touch his chest but you grabbed her before she could. “Sorry,” you told her as you held both of her arms behind her back, “he already has someone keeping his bed warm. Didn’t your mother ever to tell you not to touch things that belong to other people?”

Vincent made quick work of knocking the girl out and carrying her down to the workshop. However, after dwelling on the thought he decided to just let Lester dispose of her body. He didn’t want to make you angry by turning her into a permanent wax figure for the town. Doesn’t mean that he won’t allow her to regain consciousness before killing her though, after all she needs to know her place.

Later on Vincent will make sure you never forget that he is yours the same way that you’re his. You can probably expect to have some trouble moving around the next day as well.

Bo Sinclair

Everyone knows that Bo is a major flirt. He enjoys watching the girls throw themselves at him, he just blames it on his “southern charm.” Although, he usually keeps you safely tucked up into the house whenever victims stumble into town. After all, “I can’t have my sweet angel in harms way now, can I?”

You never dwelled on how Bo dealt with victims, that was his business. Sure he had flirted with you a lot when you first showed up. Even now he was heavy on flirting and making inappropriate comments all the time. It was one of the things that made him Bo after all. So walking into his shop unaware of the newest batch of victims in town was a shock for you. Well not so much the victim part, it was finding Bo flirting with the girl leaning over the counter to display her cleavage that pissed you off.

She was smiling and blushing like she had a high school crush on the man in front of her. Not to mention Bo was unashamedly staring at everything she was flaunting. So yeah you were pissed, especially since he didn’t even seem to notice you were there. You quickly remembered the lunch you were holding in your hand, your reason for coming down here, and decided to use it to your advantage.

Instead of saying anything you just walked up behind him, setting his lunch on the counter right in front of the girl, effectively blocking his view of her boobs before wrapping your arms around him. Bo still didn’t shut up and acknowledge you so you decided to interrupt. “I brought you lunch baby.” The use of a pet name quickly made the girl Bo was flirting with falter.

“Oh, uhm, is this your girlfriend or something?” Before Bo could jump in you answered her. “Or something, I guess you could say. After all, he is my husband.” You looked up at Bo with the most lovesick expression you could put on your face as you pulled him in for a kiss. One kiss turned to two, to three, to a whole make out session in front of the poor girl. Bo’s hands began to roam around your body as well, making sure to squeeze all of his favorite parts of you.

When the two of you broke apart the girl was gone but Bo didn’t seem to notice. He was still to busy feeling you up. “Have I ever told you how fuckin’ sexy you are when you’re jealous? I’d never have guessed you had a possessive side to you angel.” You smiled knowing you now had his full attention, “Well surprise.”

He kissed you one more time, long and hard. “I promise we’ll continue this later up at the house. But right now I gotta go find that bitch n’ kill ‘er. You better be waitin’ on me when I get home darlin’.”

Billy Loomis

Billy was highly sought after by many girls due to his bad boy reputation. He always had girls throwing themselves at him wanting to be the one to fix him. You knew you didn’t have to worry, Billy wouldn’t leave you for someone else. He made it very clear that you were permanent. But still you couldn’t help but be irritated when they would flirt with him right in front of you.

You two were planning a movie night which meant a trip down to the video store. Apparently, Randy had the night off because some new girl was behind the counter. When the two of you first arrived she had been reading a magazine, not caring about the handful of people milling about. That was until she noticed Billy, not seeming to care that you were wrapped around his arm. She was watching him like a hawk.

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way she was staring down your boyfriend. Billy was observant and quickly noticed your discomfort. “Don’t worry about her babe, you know you’re the only person I’m into.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him, “Now, do you want to watch Friday the 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street?” You groaned, “Billy we’ve seen both of those movies a million times.” He smiled and held up Nightmare on Elm Street, “Well now we can watch this one and make it one million and one times.”

You rolled your eyes as he drug you to the checkout counter. The employee quickly perked up when she noticed Billy. “Will this be all for you hun?” She asked completely ignoring you. She didn’t even look down at what movie Billy had set on the counter before saying, “You have good taste, this is like one of my favorite movies ever. It’s a shame your little girlfriend doesn’t seem to like it though.”

“Cool, so who’s the main character?” You knew exactly what Billy was trying to do, elbowing him lightly. “Oh, uhm,” she finally looked down at the case, eyes lighting up, “oh, yeah it’s that really scarred dude!” Billy rolled his eyes, “No shit, what’s his name though.” You decided to have pity on the girl, “Ignore him, he’s a horror movie fanatic.” The girl mumbled, “Yeah no kidding.”

You smiled at Billy, using this as your chance to brag on the fact he’s yours. You knew him like no one else did. “He’s such a dork when it comes to the cinematography of these things but he’s my dork.” Billy hugged you from behind, “Yeah, whatever, you know you love me.”

Stu Macher

Stu absolutely loved throwing huge parties at his house. He was well liked and well known so it wasn’t unusual for a lot of people to show up, many of which you didn’t even know. Because so many people knew Stu, it also meant that they knew his family was pretty wealthy. It was pretty common to find girls hitting on him and since Stu loved attention he was prone to playfully flirting back.

Usually you would hang out with your friends during these parties, not being big on socializing with new people. Most of the time you didn’t worry about Stu wandering off, he would always show up at your side again at some point. Half the time when he would reappear you would have to pry him back off of you. He could be quite handsy at times.

Now the party was winding down and mostly everyone left was on the couch getting ready to watch a movie. You excused yourself, and headed to the kitchen to get another drink. You froze when you saw a girl running her hands all over Stu, he wasn’t making any move to push her away. You decided to help him out with that.

“Do you need something,” you asked her as Stu wrapped himself around you. “Are you his girlfriend?” Stu laughed, hopping up onto the counter. He pulled you up onto his lap, “Yeah she is dude. Isn’t she hot?” The girl scoffed, “Don’t you think that she’s a little… beneath you, Stu?”

That set you off. “I think that slutty little bitches like you need to keep your dirty hands away from what’s mine.” The girl rolled her eyes before storming out of the kitchen. You hopped out of Stu’s lap and turned to face him. “If you let mother whore rub all up on you like that again so help me I will be the next one to commit a murder in this house. Understand?” Stu stopped smiling, his goofy personality faltering for a second. He then saluted, “Yes ma’am.” You nodded. “Good.”

Stu jumped down and threw you over his shoulder, causing you to yelp. “You look extra hot when you’re fighting over me babe.” He quickly climbed the stairs and you pounded against his back. “You’re going the wrong way, the movie is downstairs.” He made it quickly to the bedroom, throwing you down on the king size bed with a huge grin. “We can make our own movie babe. I don’t know about you but I’m thinking romance,” he rambled, crawling on top of you. “Rated R of course.”

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

[akumaalert]

Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean. 

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet. 

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views. 

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go. 

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back. 

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes. 

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment. 

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign. 

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind. 

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings. 

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck. 

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt. 

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted. 

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words. 

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given. 

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze. 

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him. 

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous." 

[moonlitceleste]

I’m a warrior (now I’ve got thicker skin) Pt. 1

Part 1          Part 2          Part 3          Part 4          Part 5

I’ve toyed with this idea for a while, but I never posted it because I couldn’t think of the right song to go with it (that part comes in later). Thankfully, the idea came to me and I get to write it out!! It’ll probably be long, so I’ll split it into separate parts.

It’s three years since Hawkmoth started attacking Paris. By this time, the class has long turned on Marinette; however, she found solace in Adrien, Chloe, Kagami, and Luka. Together, they make up the permanent Miraculous Team.

They’ve finally defeated Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste, Nathalie Sancoeur, and Lila Rossi have been arrested. It’s made very public knowledge that Lila initiated contact with Hawkmoth out of pure spite and that her sole purpose was to target Marinette-Dupain Cheng and get her akumatized.

Lila is unable to lie her way out, because ever since Lila had gotten Marinette expelled, the latter had been keeping detailed notes on everything she had lied about and done. The only reason Lila hadn’t been exposed earlier was because Marinette was actively preventing it. She had deduced that Lila was working with Hawkmoth and knew she was a valuable connection.

Alya had also been posting Lila’s lies on her blog consistently, and there were quite a few blatant jabs towards Marinette in there.

Anyways, it’s been three weeks since that all went down. And people were still following Marinette around, from reporters to random citizens. The public was curious as to why Hawkmoth decided one girl was special enough as to be his target.

Tired of having to evade everyone, Marinette decides to give them what they want. She has an adequately large Twitter following since she was best friends with Adrien, Chloe, and had previously worked with big names such as Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale.

She shoots a one-take video and explains everything, but not before a quick disclaimer.

“I didn’t know whether or not to, but I realized that telling this story could raise awareness, or maybe just help someone feel less alone. But before I start, please don’t send hate to anyone mentioned in this video. Whether or not they deserve it, and no matter what they did to me, no one deserves to be bullied.”

“I’ve never really told anyone the full story before, and as counter-intuitive as it may seem, telling it to a camera is a lot less scary than it is to an audience.”

Marinette doesn’t hold back. She starts from the very beginning, from when Lila came in. I don’t like the Marinette-creepily-follows-them-because-of-jealousy thing, so I HC that in Volpina she followed them because she got bad vibes from Lila and was worried for Adrien’s safety. She says she saw Ladybug calling her out and that’s how she knew she was a liar.

She continues telling the story about how when Lila came back, everyone believed her immediately. She repeated the lies that Lila said and tore into the ridiculousness of them--the tinnitus she got from saving Jagged Stone’s cat from an airplane runway, how her arthritis flared up after saving Max’s eye from getting gouged out by a napkin and seemingly switched wrists constantly. How her classmates glared at her for being the cause of Lila’s pain and how the teacher didn’t even check for a doctor’s note or blink when they moved her to the back of the classroom.

She talked briefly about Lila’s threat, and how an akuma went after her but she managed to calm down in time, and that Lila was akumatized immediately after.

And then she talked about the expulsion. In great detail. But not before a little backstory about how her principal was quick to ignore anything her childhood bully did because he was easily swayed by money and influence. How her teacher had always told her to be the bigger person. Set a good example. Show people what the Marinette’s of the world are like.

And despite her being the “example”--the perfect student and class president, he expelled her without a second thought or even proof if what Lila accused her of was true. Lila’s parents weren’t even at the meeting, but hers had to be.

She wasn’t un-expelled until Lila herself claimed that she had a “lying disease,” which she later figured out was because Adrien helped her out.

She mentions how ironic it is that “my classmates who I’ve known since childhood and my best friend all turned their back on me in an instant. The four friends who stuck with me were all very new, and I had a dislike for 3/4 of them at some point in time.”

After explaining the beginning in detail, she summarized the rest of what they did--it started with glares and small jabs, then escalated to tripping her in hallways. Most weren’t outright malicious, but the more bull-headed like Alya, Alix, and Kim did the worse stuff like “accidentally” pouring water on her. After all, she was bullying Lila even after Lila had been so nice to her!

And then the Hawkmoth part. Emotions and akumatizations.

“Even though I know I didn’t do anything wrong, it was hard for me to remember that since the whole world seemed to be conspiring against me. But my true friend were there for me, and if they weren’t I’d have long succumbed to Hawkmoth’s influence.

I didn’t actually think Lila would turn my friends against me; I trusted them. Every time I was almost akumatized, it was because of injustice. I just had to remember that in due time, justice would come for her too.

I think my greatest fear was that even once Hawkmoth was gone, Lila would be able to lie her way out of it and somehow, she would convince everyone that I was in the wrong again. But that didn’t happen, and I’m glad that I didn’t give in to my negative emotions.

Part of that is because after a while, I just became numb. I haven’t let myself feel anything after all these years--at this point, my automatic response is to click and delete my negative emotions. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I don’t have to do that anymore. The reason I never talked about what happened was because I was scared once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I couldn’t risk getting akumatized.

My knee-jerk reaction right now is to say I’m fine, but I’m not. I don’t know when I will be. I still have thoughts of what I did to make everyone leave me so easily--why they were so quick to turn. But hopefully, letting all this out is a step towards healing. It’s made me stronger, but I’m ready to close this chapter of my life and move on”

She ends the video after a brief end note and a reminder to not send hate to her classmates (but it ends up happening anyways).

“Maybe this could have been all prevented if my classmates had at least tried to listen to me, or if my teacher or principal had done their job. Everything may have worked out in the end, and I’m very grateful for that, but maybe it could have been stopped earlier if anyone had stepped in to help. If you see someone struggling, don’t stay silent. My true friends stuck by me, and they gave me the hope that there really was light at the end of the tunnel. You can give someone hope too.”

(There’s more said in the video, but those are just snippets I have right now.)

Parisians are horrified at the full story, and it spreads like wildfire. People add English subtitles, and it spreads even more.

A girl being targeted by an emotional terrorist for three years, having to suppress her emotions while actively being targeted by said terrorist or else the world would end?! Yeah, people ate it up.

And then Adrien and Chloe tweeted something, and then Bruce Wayne got involved, and soon enough, Marinette became known as the Girl Who Saved Paris.

TAGLIST

@2confused-2doanything @abrx2002 @alenee13 @animegirlweeb  @anonymously-odd  @buginetye @catthhay @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25   @ertyzeta @fishandnoodles  *@how-to-function-properly  @iamablinkmarvelarmy  @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @kris-pines04  @miracleofadisaster @momothefemur  @nach0 @nathleigh *@our-preciousss  @starpony999 @swiftie-miraculer13 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @thatonecroc  @theg0ddesspersephone  @thenillabean  @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @tired-butterfly @trippingovermyfeet @user00000003 @velvetterabby

[shadoedseptmbr]

@theoriginalladya also asked for a What If? from that no excuses writing meme and there *has* been a what if floating around in my subconscious for awhile because my version (or Aedan’s version, anyway) of Kaidan has had a What If pinging in his head for a while, too.

So...A Horizon What If?

He’s never quite sure after; what made him do it.

The fact that when his life had flashed in front of him as the seeker swarm crawled all over him, it was those big, starry eyes that kept coming back and then suddenly, there she was.  In front of him.  

Or if it was the scent of that green, spicy soap under the blood and adrenaline sweat.

Or if it was the way, for just a second, she’d tucked her face into his neck and clutched when he’d hugged her.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

  He isn’t really thinking when, with a twitch of his fingers against her hip, he shifts her mass and hoists her up and simply turns on his heel and walks away from the rest of the squad.

He can’t hear their protests at all, just the swearing in his ear as she tries to get purchase to push away.  The not particularly creative but entirely sincere use of fuck...fucking fuck Kaidan Elek Alenko you put me down right the fuck NOW marine, I will fucking nail you to the next fucking tree is what decides him that it’s really her and he just tightens his arms and agrees, “Yeah, you probably should harden this armor better before you fight any other biotics.” as he heads into one of the abandoned colonial huts.  

She huffs a laugh as she tries to get control of her arms back.

Even with her mass shifted, it’s a little awkward to carry a fully armored Shepard while she’s squirming and he turns and collapses into the nearest sofa, with her still in his arms.  

“Kaidan...what the FUCK?”  But she’s left her head against his shoulder and he closes his eyes and drops his head against the formed cushion.

“I mean.  I could ask the same thing, Shepard.”

“I…Yeah.”

“How long have you…”

“I woke up about a month ago.”

“Does Anderson know?”

“I went straight to the Citadel. He can’t…”  He can hear her swallow.  “He couldn’t tell me where you were, even.”

“Well...it’s Cerberus.” 

Yeah.”  She sighs  “The Council has decided it’s out of their jurisdiction, the Alliance is…”

“Still trying to rebuild.  I’ve been…” He has to stop.  It’s Cerberus.

“There was a saboteur, that’s why the guns wouldn’t work.”  

“Okay.  How did you find out about the colony in time?” 

“I’d like to think they were just monitoring all the colonies and noticed when this one went off the grid but honestly, Cerberus probably planted the saboteur.” 

“Jesus.  Aedan...how can you…”

“Tell me I have another choice.”  There’s nothing but bleak in her voice and he lifts his head to see her staring at him.  “Give me another option and I will fucking run to it.  Cerberus has the resources I need.  They built another Normandy, for Christ’s sake.” Her jaw shifts and he can’t help it, he runs his fingers over the glaring scars.  “It’s me, I’m almost certain.”  But her eyes drop.

“Hey.  Does that hurt?”

The tiny, broken croak she swallows back lodges right in his chest.  “Sometimes, yeah. Chakwas says they’ll go away if I...if I let them.”

Her communicator pings and Joker’s voice fills the quiet. “Commander...you okay?  That Alliance ship we hailed is going to be in system within the hour.”

“Yeah, Joker.  Send the shuttle.”  Her hand is still gloved but he can feel the delicacy in her touch when she brushes the fingertips across his forehead.  “I should...I have to go.”

“I know...but...I want to come with you but..”

“NO.  No, you can’t.  I had this whole...You can’t.”  Her fingers have curled into the seams of his armor and there’s the same look in her eyes that had haunted him for two long, lonely years.  Terror that he won’t listen to her and something else.   “Please. Just...it’s enough.  Knowing you’re okay.”

He laughs.  “I’m really not.  I’m…”  He isn’t sure what he is but he doesn’t have time to figure it out.  

Garrus yells out, “Shepard, the shuttle is here.”

And then his whole world narrows back down to her and her mouth, her lips cool and cracked and the faint hint of blood as his lips part to meet hers.  The little gasp as their tongues brush, the grip on the back of his neck, the slide of her hair under his fingers.  The taste of salt as he traces the freckles on her cheeks.  

“God, I’ve missed you.”

And then it’s gone. 

“I...they’re reading my mail, so don’t....  If I can figure out a way to...let you know how...how it goes.  I will. I...uh.  Bye.”  

And she’s gone, too.  His omni pings before he gets to the door.  A readout of all the data she’s collated on the Collectors, a list of possible Cerberus affiliates, and a….cipher?

Kaidan files that little code snippet into a personal file as he watches the shuttle lift before he turns to help Delan open one of the Collector pods.

[youre-fired-s-seaborn]

So you guys are never going to guess what I just did.

I might possibly be writing a tww fic (FOR REAL THIS TIME I PROMISE) and I just finished the first little snippet so I thought I’d share that with y’all!

It’s going to be several chapters, each one from the POV of a different senior staff member, basically just a random collection of scenes where everyone Works Out their Issues. Official summary= The senior staff + Donna think about the past, how far they’ve come, heartbreak, hard times, sleep deprivation, and what family means to them over a ginormous bowl of popcorn.

(Part backstory headcanons, part character study, part found family, part random other shit?? I have no clue where this came from tbh. Anyway enjoy this rambly dumpster fire) (the popcorn is figurative)

Part one is Sam, and I’m sure none of you are surprised 😋 Enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Samuel Norman Seaborn was a kid, ‘I want to be a lawyer when I grow up’ was one thought that didn’t cross his mind, not even once. Which is saying something, because little Sam had a lot of thoughts. He had opinions about everything, even things he didn’t understand (especially those) and he had ideas, big ideas that everyone said were going to change the world one day, and he had an imagination the size of the Chrysler building and not enough room in his head for all the stories he wanted to tell. Everyone liked Sam. He was easy to like. At least, until he got a little older and suddenly his imagination was distracting instead of endearing and his ideas were silly instead of helpful and the big books he liked to read were taking time away from more important things. It didn’t make sense to him, because he had always thought they were the most important things in the world, but one day when one too many teachers had commented on it and one too many other children had teased him for it, he sat himself down at his desk and told himself he wouldn’t be like that anymore. Sam decided he wouldn’t be the dreamy one with his head in the clouds anymore. He would be focused, and dedicated, the model student and son.

So somewhere in middle school, Sam Seaborn changed from the cheerful, somewhat dazed and forgetful child he had been into the most intensely focused little academic his teachers had ever seen. Focusing was usually...hard, for Sam. At least, focusing on the right thing. His mind wanted to go in so many different directions and think about so many different things, and none of them were what he should have been focusing on. But he found that if he worked really hard and forced himself to think about one specific thing, then he could usually achieve it. Homework and such wasn’t exactly what he was passionate about, but it was what his parents wanted, and what everyone else around him seemed to want, so he did his best.

He worked hard through high school and when he graduated, he got accepted to Princeton. Sam loved Princeton. He loved everything about it. He started working hard because he liked it, and not because he thought other people wanted him to. He worked towards his law degree, and he got it.

(He never did stop writing, though. It was like a disease. No matter where he was or what he should have been doing, he could never make himself not write.)

There was a bit of a gray area after that, and more than one bad decision, but then he got the job at Gage-Whitney. And Gage-Whitney was...well. He was good at it. It paid well. He kept working his way up the ladder until he made partner, and wasn’t that everyone’s dream? Shouldn’t he love his job? Maybe he should have. He didn’t.

Then there was Lisa, and he couldn’t decide if she had been a mistake or not. He had liked her an awful lot; even loved her. She had been quite fond of him too. It had been real. Once. He remembered nice dinners and radiant smiles and the joy of having a partner who was as smart as you.

God, what happened to us? He’d think sometimes, but it was stupid, because he knew exactly what had happened to them. Sam had quit his job and gone running off to New Hampshire with Joshua Lyman. He’d tried to build a presidential campaign from scratch, then actually managed to accomplish it, which was somehow even worse for their relationship because then he was zipping all over the country without a minute to spare and he told himself he called whenever he could but it wasn’t enough and he knew it. Whenever they did get to see each other, there was a...distance, that there never had been before. Eventually Lisa would say something passive aggressive about how apparently Josh Lyman meant more to him than she did, and Sam would get defensive and mutter something about how he never complained when she always went off to fancy bars with her fancy friends every other night, and she would bark out an incredulous laugh because of course he would find a way to insult her friends when he was the one who had left her in the dust, because wasn’t that just the kind of person he was!

It hurt even more because they cared, they both cared. A lot. But in the end, it didn’t matter, because Sam chose the campaign and she chose to stay and there was nothing they could say to change each other’s minds. Her eyes had gotten big and wet and angry, and he had been numb, staring out at nothing. That was the night she gave him back the ring.

But he tried not to think about it too much now. It was a sure-fire way to ruin his day. Or week, more likely.

“Did you know that supposedly the shortest telegram correspondence in history was between Victor Hugo and his literary agent?” he asked. He was sitting at one of the desks in the bullpen, hunched over some files that he really didn’t want to read. It was one of those days, where there was a lot to do but a lot of time to do it, so you ended up doing anything but what you were supposed to do. One of those days that felt lazy and slow when it shouldn’t have been.

Josh was leaning against an office door frame across from him. “Really.”

“Yeah.” he flipped through some of the papers absently. “To ask how the book sales were doing he just sent a question mark. The guy sent back an exclamation point. And all I’m saying is if Victor Hugo himself could restrain his verbosity like that, then just maybe the guys writing these files could-” he paused as Josh wandered over, resting his forehead against the back of Sam’s head and wrapping an arm around him from behind. “What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Josh chuckled. “You’re just a huge dork.”

“Oh.” He rolled his eyes. “Just part of my charm, I guess.”

“In that case, you are extremely charming.”

“Ha ha.” Sam looked over as Josh slid into the desk chair next to him. “Hey, did CJ say how the briefing went? I was on the Hill all morning.”

Josh shrugged. “It was fine. They were all just asking about whether Jancowitz was going to sink the healthcare bill with his insistence on antagonizing what’s-his-name at the DOD.”

“Ah. Should we send someone to smooth that over?”

“Yeah, you can put Ainsley on it. I’m not too worried.” A problem for another day, then. Josh leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. “It’s supposed to keep snowing all night.”

“They said that the last two times it snowed.”

“I think they’re right this time!” Josh protested, tapping the side of his head. “It’s my flawless intuition as an outdoorsman.”

Sam laughed. “At this rate, we could put you on the Weather Channel. You’d be just as accurate as all of those guys.”

“Mmm. With their track record, I could be their boss by next Tuesday.” He squinted at something for a minute before hopping up. “Well, I should probably go work on my thing before Leo has an aneurysm. I’ll come see you later about the environment?”

“Yeah, see you.” He sighed, staring down at the papers while Josh went back to his office. After a minute, he just shook his head and stood up, gathering them in his hands and retreating into his own office. Sam unceremoniously dumped the files onto a shelf, settling into his desk chair. They could be read another day.

Straightening his glasses, he popped open his laptop on the desk in front of him. He tried typing out some remarks for the President’s conference next week, but didn’t get very far. He wandered over to his email, and replied to a few people who had asked him questions.

I should write my dad, he thought absently. It had been a while since his last email. The thing was, thinking about his father in any capacity was Sure-fire Way To Ruin His Week Number Two.

It was...complicated. Sam had never had the best relationship with either of his parents to begin with. They had always been busy, and now he was always busy, and he supposed that it was possible he had lost far too many important things in his life due to people being busy. It didn’t even sound like a good excuse.

His mother was a brilliant, industrious woman who had grown up poor and worked so hard to get their little family off the ground that there was little else left of her now. At least, that was how he’d always felt. She’d always been so caught up in working to secure his future, and seemed to not have time for him in the meantime. Oh, she had tried, but she was always on a phone call or an extra shift and so it had usually just been him and his dad at the house when he was little.

It made his blood boil to think about it too long. Sam had never been close with his mother, but she had worked so hard and given up so much to keep them afloat. And this was how his father had repaid her? By...by...he couldn’t even put it into words. Learning about his father’s mistress had shook him to his core, and hadn’t stopped shaking it since.

Family had never been a very comforting concept to Sam, and after that particular revelation, even the romanticized ideal of it had come crumbling down around him. Family wasn’t supposed to be built on lies and absence and forced smiles. It was supposed to be solid and warm and loving, not shaky and volatile and brimming with hurt.

He could feel his heart clenching with anger and bitterness and grief over what-could-have-beens, and Sam hated being that person. Instead, he stared at the blank white void of the email draft in front of him, forcing himself to breathe deep. What are the others doing right now? he asked himself, his mind latching onto a distraction. Josh was probably working himself up over the environment issue- that, or getting lovingly screamed at by Leo. CJ had just finished a briefing, and was probably high-fiving Carol or bickering with Danny. Toby was most likely scribbling notes for the energy conference, half of which would be crumpled up in the wastebasket by now. Or on fire. Sam smiled to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” came a cheery voice, and Sam looked up to find Donna in the doorway with a file tucked under her arm. “Any important government business going on in here?”

“Absolutely not,” he assured her, leaning back in his chair. “You need me for something?”

“Nothing pressing,” she replied with a shrug, brushing forward and hopping on top of his desk like she always did. “Toby and Josh are in CJ’s office watching the game if you want to join. ”

“Don’t they have work to do?” he mumbled petulantly.

“I really wouldn’t know,” Donna said with exaggerated innocence. She smirked at him. “But you look so sad and lonely in here, the least I could do was extend the invitation.”

“Hush, you,” Sam lamented, stretching absently. He looked down at his laptop and tapped his fingers on the desk. “I really should be working.”

“So should everyone else,” Donna pointed out. She slid off the desk and crossed her arms, giving him a look. “Sam? Hey, are you feeling okay? You look a little…”

Sam frowned, looking down at himself. “Disheveled?” he suggested, noting his wrinkled shirt and crooked tie.

“Ah,” she said with a nod. “That’s the word I was looking for. But, hey, are you really alright?” She leaned down to rub his shoulder. “You seem gloomy.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sighing. “Just a long day, I guess.”

Donna raised her eyebrows. “And do you know what the perfect antidote for a long day is?”

“Watching the game with Josh and Toby and CJ?” he guessed.

“Exactly!” Donna smiled, bonking him on the head with her file. “See you in five?”

Sam looked back at his email, thinking. If he mustered up the sheer willpower to write to his dad, he would have no idea what to say. And it wasn’t like his relatives in California were truly family, anyway. Not if all he associated with them were pain and disappointment. Maybe he could leave this email for later. Maybe he could watch football with his friends and chuckle at Toby and Josh shouting at the TV and rib CJ when she didn’t understand anything that was happening and forget about all of it, for a little while.

“Yeah,” Sam said, closing the lid to his computer. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

[lambourngb]

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates...  and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight.  This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before.  Twice.  Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah.  He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself.  What he likes.  What he wants, outside of Alex.  Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun.  Light.  Uncomplicated.  Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker. 

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!”  Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have. 

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex. 

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena. 

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two  hours or so of work.  

“You win this round, okay?” 

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage. 

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist. 

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.” 

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.” 

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

[gondalsqueen]

Hey, all! I have at least three active projects that I AM still writing on, it’s just... Real life is kicking my butt, you guys. Every time I am not completely exhausted, I write. But I am usually either completely exhausted or composing some political piece. Blargh. Anyway. Here’s a Rebels snippet that’s giving me fits. I’ve got this and a bunch more and I may have to scrap it and re-start the chapter. Meanwhile, I thought you might like to see a little work-in-progress:  ... Early evening. Her hands are cold, her feet are tired, and she has to shake her hand to dry it between every coat so she won’t smear paint from her fingers onto the piece she’s creating on the wall, but Sabine has an idea. A rap at her door, and when she mutters, “Come in,” it’s Hera standing there, something in her hand. Maybe another tube of paint Sabine’s left in the common room again? “Can I ask your help with something?” Hera says, so casual that Sabine puts down her spray gun at once. “Sure. What’s wrong?” “Nothing. I just need to put this stuff on my back and I can’t quite reach.” Sabine holds out her hands and Hera tosses the tube to her. Not paint—bacta cream. “Yeah,” she says, noticing for the first time that Hera’s already wearing her casual workout clothes rather than her flight suit. “Take a seat.” She moves out of the way, offering Hera a place at the table under her bunk, then pumps a dollop of paint remover into her palm and uses it to clean and sanitize her hands. “Pull your shirt up.” Hera sits cross-legged in the booth with her back to Sabine and lifts her shirt. “Don’t worry if it looks bad,” she says. “It’s not bad.” But she winces as she peels the fabric off her back and Sabine winces as she sees the wound, angry red and weeping in the middle, with a large keloid scar around the edge. Hera’s had this for a while. “Hera—what the kriff?” she asks. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. They repaired all of the internal damage after Concord Dawn, but the outer layers just...wouldn’t heal there. I thought it had finally closed months ago—it was only a scar.” 

“You’ve had this for TWO YEARS? And it hasn’t healed?” “It was healed.” “Then what happened?!” “I stopped putting bacta on it,” Hera replies, dignified. “It’s no big deal.” “Well, it doesn’t look great,” Sabine grumbles, squeezing bacta onto a finger. “Brace yourself.” “Yep.” “How did you reach this before?” Hera shrugs noncommittally and Sabine almost misses where she’s daubing. That shrug is so casual—like her initial request for help had been—that it clicks. “Kanan did this for you.” “Yeah.” “When he could see.” Hera clears her throat. “I can almost reach it, but not quite. Thanks for helping.” Sabine daubs gently—it has to be painful—but Hera doesn’t wince. After two years, she’s probably used to this. That injury must be where the steering column went through her middle—a clean slice in the front where the sheared-off piece had entered, and then an awful exit wound. Sabine swallows a sudden rush of bile, remembering. “This scar’s going to be terrific,” she says. “I’ll take your word for it.” “Looks like a YT-1300.” Hera laughs out loud. Kanan had taken charge of Hera’s care after that accident, even though she didn’t want to be taken care of, even though she’d yelled at him about it constantly. He’d just shrugged and put up with it and gone on looking after her, anyway. And then he’d been hurt, too, and he’d shut them all out, and...nobody had taken care of Hera, Sabine saw. They’d just assumed she could take care of herself, but she never did. And she couldn’t quite reach. “You’re all done.” “Thanks.” Hera smoothes her shirt then turns on the bench and holds out her hand for the cream. Sabine’s eye catches the colored line on her upper arm and she thinks it’s a new tattoo for a minute, so she looks closer—no, of course, only a birth control strip. Hera catches her looking. “You know where we keep those, right?” “Sure, but I’ve got other things to do with my life.” “That’s why you use them.” Sabine shakes her head, though. “I’m not looking for that kind of relationship.” “Yeah, well, it doesn’t take a relationship to get pregnant.” Hera’s worst trait is that she says things like this. Her best is that she knows it makes Sabine uncomfortable and leaves immediately afterwards instead of trying to have a conversation. “Thanks again,” she says. “I’m setting an alarm to do the bacta tomorrow. You’ll never remember.” “Also thanks.” 

[pixiealtaira]

Snippet One

These are fics I need motivation on...so you get snippets

Glee and Criminal minds crossover

Spencer had only managed to set their base photos out and lay a bit of basic info onto the table in front of the first board before a small knock sounded outside the door.

“Excuse me,” a soft voiced asked from the doorway. “Officer Phillips told me I could find the people who came in from the FBI back here? Do you know if they are here yet?”

Spencer turned towards the soft voice and was surprised at who was actually standing in the doorway. First, despite the high voice, which Spencer had first assumed belonged to either a young lady or a much younger person the person in the doorway was a guy, a guy in his mid-teen at least.  The grey coat and the purple scarf weren’t exactly highly masculine cut, but Spencer, contrary to popular belief, knew enough to know that both were rather high end designer items.  The young man looked exactly that though, young…and nervous. He was fingering the strap of his bag and rocking on his heels.  

“Yes,” Spencer answered, with a sigh. “This is where we are set up.”

The boy raised his eyebrows at Spencer. “You’re an FBI agent?”

Spencer raised his right back. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

The boy chuckled.  He looped the bag off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.  Then he looked around for a coat stand before he started to remove his grey coat.  Spencer gasped at the boy and blurted out “What the hell happened to you?”

The boy looked down and sighed.   His grey sweater and white skinny jeans were more red and blue than their original colors. The boy took his coat to the coat stand and carefully hung it up as he started to talk. “Slushies six and seven.  It’s been a long day.  This is actually outfit five.  FIVE! I will never be able to get the red out of this sweater either, since I had to sit through a whole class before even being allowed enough time to try to do anything about it!  At least the teacher let me wash my face, but look at my hair! I’ll be lucky if it hasn’t stained. I really hate Mr. Lurch, and yes, that really is his last name.  It’s not like ten minutes lost from AP World History would make it so I flunk. I am absolutely certain I hold the highest grade in there.  Of course, most shouldn’t even be in an AP class, so that doesn’t say much.  And even though I’m like the only one who knows what the man is talking about, ever, he only calls on me when he has exhausted all other options. ” Spencer smiled a little as the boy spoke.   His hands were in motion the whole time and he had a gracefulness about his movements that Spencer enjoyed watching. Spencer pulled a chair over from the other table and set it to the side of the one he’d been sitting in while pouting.  The boy kept speaking as Spencer worked.  

“So my mood was not the best anyway. I was completely infuriated when I started to head home after I was informed by the principal, who watched these last two slushy attacks happen, that I could not stay at school because the representatives from Lady Margret’s were expected at any moment and I was simply no longer dressed as a good representative from McKinley and I needed to remove myself, taking the half day of absences, from the school grounds at once. Before lunch mind you, before lunch.”

The boy was ranting now; Spencer recognized the hand on the hips and quick speech.  However Spencer also figured the boy needed the outlet, so let him continue.

“Granted, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to leading around any of the members of Lady Margret’s student council, because last year one of the girls who visited in our Science class was just plain rude, and that is saying something considering I go to McKinley and nearly everyone there is awful.  But still it was somewhat of an honor escorting that student council around, supposedly, so it would have been nice to actually have been able to do so.  I almost suspect Miss Rachel Berry to have orchestrated this last round of slushies, because now she gets to be the escort and she’d been complaining about not getting the privilege for a week and half… but I have been telling myself since slushies six and seven that there is no way she would stoop so low, and besides, it was Azimio and Rick the Stick and I don’t think she dares even speak to either for fear they’d get her first.  Of course, I also suspect the honor was originally granted because I am one of the few who can actually afford to miss a few classes without my grades reflecting a missed class and not because anyone actually wanted me to talk to anyone from any other school.  Rachel, in all her glory, is involved in a ridiculous amount of clubs and can’t miss too many more class hours, really.”  The boy paused for a moment and looked around, noting the table on the far side of the room had piles of papers and such on it and the end of the table the chairs were at had boxes that were opened lined up.  “Can I set my bag here or will that be an issue later?”

Spencer smiled. He was pleased the boy had thought and asked before acting.  “If we keep things to this end it will be fine. It’d be better if you sat on the chair I pulled over.  The one across from me is not very sturdy sounding.”

“Thank you.”  The boy’s smile was exquisite. The boy walked back to the doorway and picked up his bag, continuing talking as he did so. “Anyway... just as I was leaving the parking lot, Chip called.  So all in all, it actually turned out …well, rather perfect.”

“Perfect?”  Spencer asked.  He settled himself back into the chair he’d been pouting in earlier.

“Yes,” The boy said, “because even though no one wants to meet real life FBI agents looking like this in the long run it was a good thing, because frankly, I didn’t want to end up having to sneak in or skip school, or something else like that---things that were  likely to get me grounded, just to see you guys.”

“Grounded?” Spencer asked.

“Yes.  The Sheriff? He hates me, honestly hates me.” The boy looked Spencer up and down, had they been anywhere else Spencer would have accused the young man of checking him out. “He probably won’t like you, either.  Sorry. Are you sure you are a FBI agent?  And if you are, why are you dressed like that?  That look does absolutely nothing for you.  We could do so much better.”

Spencer sighed.

“SSA Dr. Spencer Reid.”  Spencer stood and offered his hand.  The boy’s hands were even slightly stained red.  “How did you even know we were coming?”

“Kurt Hummel.  It is a pleasure to meet you, don’t get me wrong.  It’s just; you dress more like ‘absentminded college professor’ and not like what I’ve always thought FBI agents would look like.  And, I was not thinking ‘men in black’, as hot as that would be in real life.   More like regular suits…maybe nice ties…or maybe even less formal jeans you can move fast in and Henley shirts, kind of a rugged look.  That is not to say you look like a college professor, still too young for that, but you kind of dress like one.  Although, you almost carry the look, it’s almost like…”

Kurt trailed his sentence as he looked over Spencer once again and Spencer was pretty sure the boy was picturing him in clothing he imagined more suitable for an FBI agent. He could see when a thought of why he might dress the way he did and the realization of a reason for Spencer’s clothing choices took hold of the boys mind.  Spencer suspected he had the right idea as well.

“Yeah.”  Spencer said.  

“Anyway, I knew you guys were coming because of your SUVs.  Where ever they were fetched from so does not get any merit awards for their mechanic work. It was very nearly shameful.  Chip, he worked at my dad’s garage during the summers when he was still in high school.  It was nice; he was one of the good guys.  Didn’t care that the boss’s weird son was there all the time working alongside his dad.  My dad makes sure anyone who spends time working for him knows their stuff.  So Chip knew just from the sound that those SUVs made as they rolled into the parking lot here that they needed help if they were to be safe for anything other than just the very basic use for very short distances.  He called Dad and Dad told him to bring them over.  However, it was just after closing and most Dad’s regular employees had already gone home.  So Dad called me in and I came out to work with him. I haven’t worked full hours recently, so I could work without worry about overtime or anything. And I can always use the money.  Don’t worry, I’ve been certified since Dad could legally get me certified. While we were working the Sheriff sat there chattering about why they were calling you guys in and I told him that I knew of something that connected all the deaths.  The sheriff got asked to leave the shop due to the language he used as he told me you guys would never want to listen to me. Oh my stars, I thought for a few moments the Sheriff was going to just shoot my dad right then and there for daring to tell him to leave, but Dad just stood there looking at him and the sheriff finally made another slur and left the building.  Dad says the shop is supposed to be one of my safe places, at least while I’m working there. Then Chip said that they were sending FBI agents who looked at things other than just fingerprints and stuff like that, so he’d get me into to talk to you as soon as he could because maybe knowing something that linked them all would mean something.”

“You say you know something that links all the deaths?”  Spencer asked.

“All eight.”  Kurt said. “I even went back and double checked last night.”

Spencer looked around for some paper and a pen, until he gave up and fetched paper and pen from his own satchel.  “I’m going to have to get some writing utensils and paper in here, this is ridiculous.” He muttered, not quietly enough though, since the boy heard and smiled.

“Nice bag.” The young man, Kurt, said. “Good designer, rather old though.  It’s held up well, that is the nice thing about good quality work, it holds up to wear well. Abuse well, too, if the material is right.”

“Take a seat.”  Spencer said, pointing to the chair he’d set out for the boy. “Five outfits? Is that normal?”

“Nah, not even for most the others who get slushied at my school.  Honestly it’s even a bit much for me.  I always pack a spare or two, outfit wise.  A change or two a day is normal, more than three is rare. High School is…there is a hierarchy, you know, and if you don’t fit in, sometimes it’s not a nice place to be.”

Spencer nodded.  “Tossed in dumpsters and checked into lockers.” He said.

“Swirlies and slushies and shoving to the extent that you face plant. Exactly.”  Kurt sat down and pulled his bag up onto the table.  As he did, Spencer noticed a wince and wondered.  “Outfit one was a loss even before school started, they served spaghetti for lunch yesterday and the dumpsters aren’t emptied until just before lunch tomorrow.  Of course, even without the dumpster toss this morning I would have had to change…slushy one was grape and huge.  Plus even before I managed to get to my locker to drop my bag off and extract a new outfit, I ended up slammed in to Locker 279.  Luckily, I had a minor setback at home before I left and traded my good under t-shirt for one of the cheap ones my dad buys me and I had removed my good coat before the dumpster toss.  Locker 279 met with some sort of trauma earlier this year and needs replacing.  Like, the school year, not calendar year. Do you know first aid?  I patched the slice across my back best I could and wrapped it in the remains of the cheap t-shirt, but it’s not feeling quite right.” Kurt scrunched his shoulders and rolled them before pulling his bag onto the table and starting to empty it. Spencer smiled again as the boy continued talking while looking through the notebooks, books, and folders he removed and pulling out papers here and there.

“Anyway, patched and redressed I almost made it to my first class except Puck’s trying to get his rep back up and was going to slushie Jacob the Creep…that is Jacob ben Israel and he is very much one of those makes the skin crawl creepy people-I try not to think about just where that boy might have hidden cameras lurking about in that school because my dad says I have to go to school and I cannot be homeschooled and if I think long about Jacob the Creep and his cameras I just start to freak out and so I just try very hard not to think about it …” The boy across from Spencer shuddered and grimaced before looking back down to the papers he was collecting from inside his pile of belongings. “Anyway, one of the Hockey Players pushed Puck and it got me.   Puck punched the hockey player so I guess he sees me as a …friend maybe… which can only be a good thing. Puck’s in Glee club with me, and I think maybe the fact we’ve helped him out a bit with some of his issues this past little bit…we as in my dad mostly and me a little…has made him a bit less eager to make my life completely miserable. I was worried about that since I hadn’t really had a conversation with him for well over a week and the last one wasn’t exactly a good conversation and was well, rather weird.  Totally thought I’d weirded him out so bad he’d never speak to me again. Outfit two down.  Outfit three made it through first and second hour, but met its demise with slushies three and four right outside of the choir room.  Glee club isn’t even going on really since we lost regionals and can’t compete in any other competitions until next school year and apparently that is what glee is about...instead of working starting now so we don’t lose next year… but we still have that hour scheduled for class so we still go and well, it’s become the most dangerous class to go to since we lost regionals, not that it was safe before.  Apparently that is what makes us all targets, except half of us were targeted just as much, if not more, before we started up in Glee club, so really it’s just a handy excuse. Outfit four made it through glee, but not two steps past leaving the door of the choir room…slushie five and Karofsky.  Only he has it down to the locker check and then slushie in face combo. I’ll have bruises from that, too.  And outfit five never even made it into fourth hour.”

“Slushies?  Like crushed ice drinks?” Spencer asked.

“Yes.  They are horrid.  The syrup stings your eyes and they are sticky and yet slimy and cold.  There is a machine for them IN the school.  It is ridiculous.”

“Thank God my high school didn’t have those.  So, are your dumpsters the kind with the huge hard plastic lids or the metal lids?”

Kurt shivered.  “Plastic, thank goodness.  I’ve only had the lid shut on me twice though, both last year when I was a freshman.”

“I preferred those over the metal lidded ones, I think.  The ones by the lunchroom at my school were plastic lidded, but smooth and hard to climb out of, but if you could get to the top they were easier to open.   You’re pretty much tall enough that you probably can push the lid up without too much problem.   I had to walk by the dumpsters at the side of the school where the offices were and they had metal lids. I was tossed in those pretty much every day, and they shut the lid every time - Not so bad on my clothing as the ones by the lunchroom, but the first day no one found me until Mickey the Janitor came out to toss some papers from the main office and finally fished me out, four and half hours after I’d been tossed in.  I was too little to manage to get the lid to open even with the grooved sides that I could use to climb out. After that first day, every day ten minutes after second hour started, Mickey would fish me out of the dumpsters so I could get to my class. I think Mickey must have explained it to the teacher, as well, because even though I was ten minutes late every day I was never marked tardy.”

Spencer looked at Kurt, who looked back at him with an odd expression.  Spencer raised an eyebrow.  

“Sorry,” Kurt said, looking down and straightening the pile of papers he’d pulled from his various books and folders.   The Kurt looked up again and met Spencer’s eyes.  “It’s just…you get it.  You’d understand it all, wouldn’t you?”

Spencer smiled. “Probably.  I started high school right before I turned ten and graduated when I was 12.”

“Some sort of super genius, then.  I should have guessed, I suppose. I bet the other kids hated you more than kids hate me.  Was it bad all the way through high school?”

Spencer nodded.  “Most of it. I was severely bullied my last year, until about mid December when I joined the basketball team and they won every single game for the rest of the season.”

“You played?”  Kurt asked. Kurt was watching Spencer as he stuffed books and folders back into his bag.  

Spencer tilted his head back and laughed. “No…just, no.  I didn’t even go through a growth spurt of any type until I was like thirteen or fourteen.  Late bloomer. I took over coaching.  Basketball is fundamentally mathematics and physics.  Angles and statistics. On your team,  if you know who can make what shots consistently and you put your players in place and you teach them how to make the math work for them…you win.  The team had lost all four games they had played, their star player had just been expelled for selling drugs, so when I brought them my plan, and the coach figured they had nothing left to lose, they put it to use.  And they started winning every time they put my plans into play.  The other thing I did was break down other teams shooting strategies, so we knew who and what to watch out for and how to foil the other teams’ plans.  Most the bad bullying stopped after that.”

“Nice.  I wish it would have worked for me.  I joined the football team. Heck, I was the reason they won the only game they won this past year.  Made no difference in the bullying, at all.  In some cases it made it worse. Technically, I even won the Cheerios, that’s our cheerleading team, their national title. They probably could have won without me though….maybe. The coach signed me on solely for my singing voice.   Nearly fifteen minutes of Celine Dion in French and that was only one of the six fifteen minute routines she made me learn perfectly.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just sing.  The coach made sure I could do anything she asked the other cheerleaders to do, as well….while singing. Everything, that lady is insane.   Didn’t stop the bullying.  The bullies were more careful about when they bullied, and I dealt with a whole lot more of being shoved and pushed and that kind bullying instead of the slushies…but that was because Coach Sylvester would have killed them if they messed the uniform up too badly.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Spencer said.

Kurt shrugged. “C’est la vie, I guess. It’s what you get by being different, by being an outcast. You always hear it gets better. Did it get better?”  Kurt asked.

Spencer cocked his head to the side and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Most of the time I think so, but I still have issues.”

Kurt looked him up and down again and nodded.

“Well, I’ve always known I can’t expect miracles and that there will always be problems.  But I rather hoped they would be less if I moved away from here.”  He said with a sigh. He looked up at Spencer. “The murdered guys... those guys weren’t, you know.  Outcasts.”  

“What do you mean?”  Spencer asked.

[westershiresauce]

Headcanon: Deus Ex Scuba Gear

Note: Spoilers for Bly Manor. 

So, here is my Bly Manor/Supergirl crossover crackfic headcanon where Kara is Dani and her ex Mike gets killed by a truck when he walks into traffic after Kara comes out to him and breaks off their relationship.

“Mike, I think I’m gay,” the blonde whispers, too ashamed to speak any louder. The man next to her tenses slightly before a look of relief washes over him.

“Oh thank God,” he says, and smiles at a confused Kara.

“What? You’re okay with this?” Mike shrugs and shoots the woman his frustratingly disarming grin. 

“I mean, am I glad I’m being dumped? No. Am I relieved that the reason is you aren’t into guys? Kind of.” Kara wrinkles her brows in confusion and he continues. 

“I mean, I know I’m hot.” Mike grins again and winks at the blonde who purses her lips at his peacocking, “I thought maybe you were just frigid or something.”

“Mike!” Kara looks around to make sure no one is listening. Mike laughs and she shoots him a glare. 

“Hey, you’re the one that decided to break my heart at the corner of a major intersection.” 

He winks at her and she advances on the man, trying to shut him up. He skips away from her, ignoring the fact that he is now in the crosswalk of the intersection. 

“Mike! Stop fooling around!” the blonde pleads but the man ignores her. 

“Hey, were you checking out chicks while we were together?” He waggles his eyebrows and Kara balls her fists at her sides. She refuses to take the bait. The man just laughs at her silence. “Dude, you totally did. What’s your type?” 

He goes quiet suddenly and his face lights up. Kara shakes her head. It is seldom a good thing when the man gets a light bulb moment. 

“Hey Kara,” his face gets lecherous and Kara readies herself for some horrifying comment, “Would you let me watch?” 

Kara’s face blooms red with embarrassment and anger. She steps closer to jab her finger against the man’s face and get her point across. However, Mike anticipates this and he takes another step back, grin still in place even as a truck barrels into his body. Kara stares in shock, midstep and with her finger still in the air as Mike is flung at least twenty feet down the street. The smell of burning rubber as the truck attempts to stop and the blaring sound of a horn being pressed much too late fill her senses. 

Kara: “No, Mike, not gay as in happy. Good lord, dude!”

Kara is at the hospital when Mike is pronounced dead. Rhea never really liked her so she leaves for her apartment, still shaken but confused about how she feels about what happened. On the one hand she feels responsible for what happened, but on the other hand, she almost feels relieved. Until, that is, she goes to wash her hands in the bathroom and sees Mike standing behind her. She screams and when she turns around, he is gone. It isn’t until a few days later that she hears someone walking around her apartment that she realizes what happened. She grabs her trusty bat and walks out, expecting some coke addict rifling through her bookshelves but instead sees Mike, pawing at her bookcase. He grunts in frustration when his hand goes through a book but cheers when he manages to knock one onto the floor. Kara drops the bat in shock and Mike turns around, grins wide and puts a hand up in a peace sign, just like when he was alive.

Mike: “I’m still here, bro!”

Turns out Mike is tethered to Kara and it is a horrible, cruel curse. He is both the best and worst wingman and Kara is still not convinced he doesn’t try to peek when she is getting dressed or showering but he also helps her learn to be more confident. All his shameless arrogance makes him a great cheerleader, at least once they talk about some ground rules.

1. No creeping on Kara in the bathroom or when she is changing. Mike scoffs at this and mutters about being able to creep on hotter ladies. 

2. No unsolicited advice or comments about women that Kara is not interested in pursuing a relationship with. This is added after a week of Mike making comments about women that had Kara blushing constantly, even at work.

3. No watching when Kara has a lady over. She wasn’t sure where Mike disappeared off to when she did manage to have a date come back to her place but he would always leave after shooting Kara another peace sign and telling her to “do the circle thing I showed you.”

It all hits the fan when Rhea gets wind of Kara dating women and she packs up and leaves. She does not want to deal with that fallout and she would rather get a fresh start somewhere else. Where is that where else? London, Bly Manor, American au pair, you know the rest.

Kara: “Yeah, I’m gonna take a one way and gtfo of here.”

Who are our players at Bly?

Our cook Owen Sharma is good old Jack Spheer because sometimes these things write themselves. And who is our beloved Hannah Grose? Why, Lucy Lane. Because she was too good and I always want to see more of her. Plus she can be a stern little spitfire with the kids and ghosties (The kids refer to her to as Major). She takes her fine self and daydreams about the moment that charming Jack came over to get the job as a cook, not dead, just as a useless hetero (is that a thing? It is now...) that can’t fathom for some reason that Jack is totally in love with her.

As for Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint? Kelly Olsen (the only character with any brain cells half the time) and Andrea Rojas, our muy caliente Scotsman. Is that racist? No, but her horrendous accent might be a crime. This version has none of the controlling assholeroy of Peter and no secretly killing Rebecca. Just good old bad luck in a horror series. Andrea gets drunk and tries to dive into the lake to find the chest of loot she is convinced is down there so her and Kelly can run away to America. 

Andrea: “This is a file on all the reasons you should run away from this haunted ass creepy mansion and come with me to America. Also, there is a map I drew of the lake with an X where the loot most definitely is.”

Kelly: “This is just a picture of you in lingerie and a sheet of paper you colored blue with a big red X in the middle.” 

Kelly dies trying to save her when Andrea starts to get hypothermia and they both drown in the freezing lake. Because why bury your gays when you can drown them? Amiright? Who finds their bodies the next day? This leads to the following section: Next slide, please!

Who is standing in for Miles and Flora Wingrave? Why, Ruby and a tiny Nia, of course. Nia is a sweet baby angel and I want to meet her as a little sister, totally doted on by her big sister, Ruby. Nia sees Andrea and Kelly arguing like lesbians (so much hand waving and crying and angry whispering) on the far end of the lake while their blue popsicle bodies float around. Ruby and Lucy drag little Nia away from the scene.

Nia: “My giant scarf is perfectly splendid! Also, I am baby.” 

Things get really spicy when Kara shows up, ghost!Mike and all. He complains about not being able to haunt the “hot chick from apartment 314” any more, but he perks up at the thought of “British broads.” Kara had hoped he was tethered to National City or something, but it appears he is linked to her. Mike is ecstatic when he finds out Bly is full of ghosts. He is always off somewhere exploring the mansion and only pops in to tell Kara snippets of Bly’s history and its many inhabitants. 

Meanwhile, we get to the real star of this indulgent charade. Lena as the wonderfully fit Irish (let her have the accent!) gardener, Jaime. She is convinced Kara is a corn-fed straighty from America until Kara throws herself at her in the greenhouse because flowers turn on lesbians (see Imagine You and Me and Georgia O'Keeffe’s many works. This is sapphic lore, kids.) She opens up about Mike and Lena smooches her so she doesn’t have to listen to the hot blonde’s delusions. 

Lena: “What do you mean it is too bright? What book? This is a watering can for my gardening activities. So is my fashionable, appropriately sized hat.”

Kara: *OMG she is so hot and cool, what do I do?* “Hey, do you guys do the circle thing in the UK?” 

Meanwhile, things are getting interesting with Mike and the ghosts: Kelly and Andrea, newly minted Bly ghosts, explain that they are stuck on the grounds. Mike, who believes in having the freedom of “you do you,” vows to break the curse. He strikes a heroic pose that makes Andrea roll her eyes but Kelly agrees they need to find out more about the origins of the Bly Manor curse. 

Flashback episode in a horrid b/w tone because I want to show this is old, okay. It’s not like we could figure it out by the clothes. Or the set dressing. Or the fact that the one of the characters died of “the lung.”

Anyway, we have our sisters, Viola and the other one. Their names don’t really matter because they are going to be the brunette one and the blonde one, played by the queen of period series: Katie McGrath.   

Anger-y brunette Katie, getting her smacking hand ready. 

And blonde, sad (but also evil? plot twist!) Katie, lusting after her brother in law. 

And they fight over none other than Daddy Cullen, Maxwell Lorde, because look at that hair, look at all those buttons, look at that big hand! Who could resist? 

The child is baby Lena being twirled by Anger-y Katie pre-“the lung” because let’s just have this turn into a black hole that destroys itself. 

Baby Lena: “Swing me, mummy. Swing me with your good lungs!”

Anger-y Smack-You-Every-Time Katie: “I swung too close to the sky and now this is happening to me.”

So while Kara and Lena are christening all sorts of places at Bly (yes, even the master wing because, of course, the master wing), Mike, Andrea, and Kelly are incepting themselves into all sorts of memories and whatnot. Cue that montage!

404 ERROR. MONTAGE NOT FOUND. 

Whoops, looks like we blew our budget on that black and white filter. Sorry about that.

Once the ghost trio realizes the chest in the lake doesn’t in fact hold some dragon’s hoard of gold, but the key to ending this madness, Mike pops in on Lena and Kara to bring them up to speed. Kara screams at him about the third rule while Lena tries to accept the fact that her girlfriend (yes, they are girlfriends by now, keep up) has a ghost for a best friend. 

Kara makes Mike look away while her and Lena get dressed and after quite a bit of exposition, they decide to pull the chest up from the lake. Lucy and Jack have been off playing hide the croissant or whatever the straights do during their leisure time, but they quickly hop on the “break the Bly manor curse” train.  

There is a fun B (C?) plot where Ruby and Nia steal Jack’s car and drive into town. No one in town cares because they are rich and all the adults at Bly are busy romancing each other and assume the girls are being odd rich kids playing somewhere in the manor. 

The adults are planning how to get down to the chest without suffering Andrea and Kelly’s fate, when they find some scuba gear the kids bought on their last trip to town. It is wholly impractical but the adults shrug and accept the plot hole so they can hurry this along. 

They draw straws and Kara has to dive down and tie some chains around the sunken chest. Lena jumps in front of limited edition Scuba Gear Kara to stop her but the American has to America so she dives into the freezing lake after a swoon inducing “I’ll be right back” kiss. Like, gifable on tumblr, twitter, and whatever new platform there is a hundred years from now.  

Scuba Gear Kara: “Guys, I can’t see anything through this helmet. Guys?“

After a few tense moments where Anger-y Olden Time™ Katie tries to stop Kara, Mike, Andrea, and Kelly step in and use their ghost powers to keep her away from Kara. Jack uses his car to pull up the haunted chest and they pry it open with a crowbar and plenty of moxie. The screams of slap happy Katie of the past ring out around the heroes as the curse is broken. The ghosts cheer, everyone laughs nervously (they know the end is never the end in a horror story) and Kara shivers from the cold until she is next to the fire, dry and cuddled up with Lena.

As her final act of revenge, Anger-y Katie gives Kara the Lung(!) but thanks to the power of Science, our spunky American pulls through after properly completing the full course of treatment and antibiotics. This includes Lena taking sexy care of her girlfriend. *wink*

***** westershiresauce is not a medical professional and their thoughts regarding the health benefits/healing powers of a sexy nurse!Lena are not verified. Don’t take srsly. ***** 

Cut to, one more garden and I can retire, Lena, sitting next to an immaculate shrub, waiting for her wife Kara to bring out the tea and biscuits. 

THE END!

Lena: “I swear to all that is holy, if that tea is shite, I am leaving her. It’s been like thirty years!”  

[squidos-goodies]

Hi there!! Uuuhh I’m super nervous and awkward sending you this but I told myself I wouldn’t be a coward and go on anon like I usually do awjldkdojs. But anyways, I’m wondering if you have any specific process for writing your longer fics, as far as planning/outlining goes, or even just writing the scenes in any particular order, etc etc?? I’m asking because I really love your writing and I’ve been working on a fic of my own for a couple months now, and it’s been a.... slow process. I’ve never actually gone through with a bigger project like this so I guess I’m just wondering if you have any tips? :0

why hello there, friend!

first things first i’m really proud of you for reaching out without anon! that took a lot of courage, especially to a content creator who you look up to. seriously, props to you!

okay so let’s get down to business. the secret to writing long fics... is to tell yourself they’ll only be a chapter or two!

okay i’m only partially kidding. while yes, having a plan and an outline and an ambitious scope are great, they’re daunting. it seems like it’ll never get done and you dread how long it’ll take to get to the parts you really want to write. with a shorter fic—or a fic you think will be shorter—you don’t have to deal with those intimidating prospects. if you only plan a little bit at a time and take it in tiny chucks, only fleshing out ideas as you get closer to them, it’s a lot more manageable. that’s what happened in What Hyrule Hadn’t Seen.

but maybe that’s not going to work for you. maybe you want a massive scale. maybe you want it to be more meticulously planned so you can create gorgeous literature with dozens of plot threads like @seekingseven or @dragon-of-dreams-linkeduniverse‘s stunning longfics. in that case, you would need to plan more and have a better idea of the scope and shape of your story. in this case, i recommend a beta, or at least someone who’s In On It. you tell them all your ideas, bounce things off of them, and keep them posted on your progress. they can also encourage you when the writing juices aren’t flowing, help you come up with ideas when you feel stuck, and talking to them about your fic can help you get started after a lot of time off. polteageist on the LU discord is my beta and i could Not have gotten as far as i have without her scheming and support.

but of course, maybe you’re too scared to ask for one or work best alone. that’s totally understandable! in that case, it helps to break your fic down a little bit. look at milestones, split it into thirds, make it seem more manageable. your interpretation of your own work can do wonders on how well you’re able to work on it. try to enjoy having a longfic, having that constant that’s always there and you can pick it up anytime and work on it. believe me that once you finish, it’ll feel really weird. enjoy it while you have it! :D i like to outline by making a bulleted list of all the plot points i wanna hit and then indent when i elaborate on them. color coding can be nice, but i’ve actually found myself shying away from it. also, make a meme out of your outline. seriously, it’s way more fun to write and read it that way. lemme see if i can find some ridiculous snippets of outlines i’ve made for longer fics. ah, here! “Heehoo baddies go brr” and “Ack bad vibes oh noes it’s a dink” and “AWWW FLUFF” and “spoopy forest noises” and “MORE SKY ANGSTTTTTTT” okay outlines are secretly just an excuse to meme on your own story

i know that most people don’t write this way, but my personal belief is that you gotta write in order. i have no self control, so if i get to The Scene™ i wrote the fic for—we all have them—then suddenly i don’t want to write the rest of the fic. why should i? i have The Scene™. also scene writing is WAY easier when when you know what came before it, because you can work with that and build off it and either allude to it or contrast it depending on what you’re going for. i find it easiest to write in order so i can also get a feel for what the characters have been through. by writing the story in order, i’m going on this journey with them and i’m experiencing what they’re experiencing as i write and it’s not uncommon for me to get to a Scene™ and say “no. no that isn’t what would happen here. now that i see all the scenes laid out in front of me, he wouldn’t act like this.” and that’s totally okay! those changes are good and usually end up with everyone seeming more in character than they would have otherwise.

that’s all i’ve got for now, but i invite my other longfic-writing-friends to pitch in because y’all are amazing and if you think you’re not qualified to give advice and you have a fic kicking around that’s approaching or over 20k words, then yeah, that’s a Long Fic and thus a longfic and thus you can write longfics, cuz you wrote one. full disclosure, nobody has any idea what they’re doing basically all of the time, but say what you can—seriously, you’re doing more than you realize without even realizing it! (that didn’t make any sense)

ANYWAY enough of my nonsense XD i hope this was helpful, @echoing-sounds! i hope you have a wonderful time writing your longfic! if you’d like to yeet a link to it my way if you have anything posted, i’m certainly not opposed to giving it a looksee :O

and with that, my friends, adieu!

(and to those of you looking for news on To Isolate, it’s slow going right now but I am working on it! fear not, dear readers, it will be completed!)

i love all you folks!!! <3 thank you for your support. i know i wouldn’t be where i am without you.