#audio fanfic project

[indigo-greer-collins]

you guys ever can’t tell if you kin a character or need them more? damien’s been rotting my brain recently.

(excuse my projecting for a little) he’s aware of so much of the injustice in the magical world; and he’s passionate about it. but everyone keeps mistaking his passion for justice as anger. the world, the environment he’s in frightens him. the injustice he’s witnessed time and time again, towards the people he cares about the most is exhausting and frustrating. he burns with the desire to help all the people this magical society keeps pushing aside.

but all people will ever see is that he’s “angry”.

but that’s not all it is! he wants change. he wants to believe in something, he wants to believe in people, he wants to have some trust in the systems he’s under but because he wants it so badly he’s “aggressive”. he’s “hostile”. he’s “grumpy”. they even say he has a “bad attitude”.

nobody wants to work with him because he keeps getting “angry”.

so now he’s growing more and more isolated. he looks to his left and to his right and no one seems to care as much as he does. everyone at the top just sees him as some kind of number or statistic. his fellow numbers think he’s insane for caring so much.

but why does everyone care so little?? people are hurt?? people are being silenced, people are ignored, lives are being destroyed — at the worst of it people are dying. and no one is doing anything about it! is he really insane for wanting life to be easier for everyone when it literally has no reason to be this difficult??

is that not enough reason to be upset? doesn’t he have a right to be angry??

you know what fine. he can’t control how people feel right? nothing’s gained from sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself so he picks himself up and charges towards the society he aims for. he keeps his record spotless, he achieves everything he needs to, he breaks himself in half so that his friends, family, future generations will be a step closer to something easier. he can honour those before him who got him this far and pass the baton to those who come next.

then one watery fucking twink. with no aspirations. with his pessimistic, apathetic, nihilism, fucks up his pristine plans.

he can feel everything he put into this, crash and burn in his hands (at the hands of a water elemental no less). how could he have been so careless?? how did he let this slip?? he held everything together so well before and this guy ruined it without a second thought.

he didn’t care. he was willing to let everything go to ruin. he left everybody for themselves - he didn’t believe in any sort of community or empowerment, hell he probably had some hatred to all those people damien was trying so hard to fucking help. pretentious douchebag — kody thought he was better than everybody else.

so yes. he’s angry.

he hates the stereotypes. he hates the relentless teasing. he hates the whispers and the side eyes when the fire elemental shows even an ounce of irritation.

but he was finally giving in. he was finally falling right into the hands of what he wanted to avoid. to the injustice he frowned upon.

you happy now? yes, he is fucking angry. why the hell aren’t you?

(and scene)

(p.s i don’t know what possessed me to write all this out but fuck it, i had fun)

(p.p.s HIS PASSION IS SO SEXY I CANT TELL IF I WANT HIM OR WE’D BURST INTO FIREWORKS CUZ WE’RE SO SIMILAR)

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there��d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh…��turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[running-tweezers]

Good Morning

A short Damien/Huxley ficlet that wouldn’t leave my head until I put it out into the world

(This is also my very first post on ao3 if you’d like to read it there)

Damien’s relationship with sleep had always been less than ideal.

Until now.

Damien’s relationship with sleep had always been less than ideal.

Even as a kid, he spent nights awake, under his comforter reading library books by flashlight, listening intently for his mom’s footsteps down the hallway. It was an escape, a time when he could be alone, with no eyes on him. No one around to expect anything of him. He could forget about that less than stellar mark on his history test and his mom’s disappointed glance, and just lose himself in a story. No stakes. No pressure. The night was his time.

He would eventually wake in the morning, with his book still in hand and the flashlight on the floor, with only the foggiest memories of drifting to sleep.

Growing into a teenager, that expectation started to cling to him, refusing to loosen its grip. It dug its claws into what was previously his only hours of peace. The quiet freedom of the darkness was traded for late night study sessions. The reading he did for his own joy was traded for dull textbooks, impenetrable blocks of information to brute force into his head. He had to. He had no other choice.

After those nights, he would startle awake at the sound of his alarm. His back and neck twisted into impossible painful positions, his head planted on the desk, with no recollection of when he finally gave out.

Nowadays, he wished he could say with confidence that those late nights were behind him. A good sleep schedule was important, and he knew that. But old habits die hard. The problem was never staying asleep. Once he was out, he stayed that way. The issue was falling asleep in the first place. It was still all too common for him to glance at his phone after hours of tossing and turning to see 3 AM staring back at him in the bright light.

He had tried everything. He diligently monitored his screen time before bed, and saw no improvement. Changing the temperature of the room did nothing, his core always kept him warm anyway. He wasn’t skilled enough at dreamwalking magic to do any good. Counting sheep was laughable. Breathing exercises proved useless. Taking melatonin worked alright for a while, but night after night he could feel the effectiveness waning. Earplugs, ASMR, chamomile tea, aromatherapy, there was nothing he wasn't willing to try. And nothing made a bit of difference.

Except one.

Huxley had no problems with sleep. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was out like a light. Sleeping like a rock. It would almost be funny if it didn’t make him so jealous. Falling asleep that quickly seemed unfathomable to him, but since moving in with Hux, he got to witness it every night.

But that wasn’t all he got.

Now he had Huxley’s arm draped over his waist. The soft sensation of skin pressed up against his back. The rise and fall of his chest. That quiet, rhythmic breathing had started to lull Damien closer to sleep without even trying. He sunk deeper and deeper under the gentle weight of that arm around him. When Hux pulled him closer, curling around him, it only pulled him further into drowsiness. Huxley’s lips absently brushing the top of his head was the final push over the edge into a peaceful night.

Now when he wakes he’s content and well rested, as he rolls over to see an already smiling face. The first thing he hears is that deep, sleepy morning voice that immediately fills him with more warmth than even his core can provide.

“Mornin’ Dames.”

And damn, did that ever make it a good morning.

[amalgamateofficial]

Amalgamate (Danganronpa V3 Fanfic Reading) - Second Casting Call

Have you ever wanted to be in the Amalgamate Audio Project? HERE IS YOUR CHANCE!!!

The second Casting Call is up, and we're looking for a new VA for Tsumugi (as well as an understudy), an understudy for both Shuichi and K1-B0, and a VA for Kaito's grandma!

You can find the link to the CCC page with all information here!!

The deadline is August 5, so you've still got plenty of time if you'd like to try out. We look forward to hearing your auditions :D

And for those who haven't heard the Amalgamate Audio Project yet, here's a link to the playlist :)))

[copsecore]

Fluff Poll!!

(the smut is in the works, i just need to work on some lighter projects in the mean time)

TTB: manicure oneshot, Treasure insists on painting Porter’s nails for the Monarchal Summit

HMTSMG: Pet seeks (non-sexual) comfort from Vega after being slutshamed by their coworkers for participating in the Departmental feeding program

OLIC(ASAY): honey sickfic!! we’ve seen sick guy and i wanted to turn the tables, a little switcheroo, if you will

[sheawritesstuff]

Too Much

[Huxley x Unnamed Partner]

[Angst - Hurt / No Comfort - 1143 words]

[Contains descriptions of a generally not-great relationship and feelings of inadequacy caused by said relationship - There's a little bit of a sweet twist ending, but only kinda so don't get your hopes up too high]

“I have never thought you were too much. Why would you think that, Hux?” The question was simple, but the answer was anything but. Huxley took a deep breath and prepared to explain the backstory of his deepest-rooted insecurity. 

~

“Why are you giving me this?” They turned the small gift in their hands, looking it over with a harsh stare. Huxley shifted uncomfortably as he searched for the words to explain that he just wanted to. 

“I dunno… I saw it and thought you’d like it, so I got it for you.” He smiled nervously, tugging at the hem of his shirt. They looked back and forth from the trinket to his awkward stance. 

“Well, I don’t. This,” they held it up to his face. “This is trash, Huxley. I don’t like trash.” They threw the frog on the ground, shattering it into tiny green shards. Huxley stared down at the debris, his jaw dropping open slightly. He looked back up to see his partner glaring at him. “Now clean up your mess,” they hissed. 

He almost cried right then and there, but he held it in. He didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire that was their temper. So he swept up the broken glass and threw it away without another word. They sat on his couch and watched him through the entire process, never once offering to help. Oh, and they made him apologize for wasting their time and his money.

He tried making up for it, tried telling them he loved them. The only response he earned was a mumbled, “Mhmm, you too.” But that was close enough, right?

~

And there was the time he took them to see his favorite movie. They were on their phone almost the whole time, but he tried his hardest not to notice. They watched maybe fifteen total minutes of the whole film. But as they were leaving, he casually asked what they thought of it. 

“It was fine, I guess. Don’t know why you like it so much.” They stared off into space as they talked to him, clearly ignoring his attempts at appeasement. Huxley smiled, stepping closer as they walked out of the theater so they could hear him better. He rambled about what he liked about it, the different plot points he found interesting, the character design, the development, the-

“You talk a lot,” they said, cutting him off. “I think you should work on that.” They turned to look at him for the first time since he’d picked them up that afternoon. He froze, letting them walk ahead of him. He stared for a long moment, feeling a dull ache in his chest as he watched the person who was supposed to love him show him nothing but complete disregard. 

~

The only time they ever actually seemed interested in him was in the bedroom. Their hands roamed over his skin - grabbing, touching, exploring. 

“God, I love your body,” they’d whisper. “I love how strong you are. The way your muscles flex is so fuckin’ hot.” This was the only time they ever said things like that. They never loved him, or his personality, or his humor. They loved his body. 

It felt good, though. The attention, their body against his, the kisses left along his sensitive skin. So he put up with it, hoping maybe they would change. Maybe they would be nicer if he did what they wanted. Just maybe…

After they were done, Huxley would try to be close to them, cuddle close to their warmth as they came down from the peak of pleasure. They shoved him off, scoffing as they scrambled to gather their discarded clothes. 

“You’re so fuckin’ clingy. I don’t do that shit.” 

He all but begged for just a few minutes of closeness, of actual intimacy. All he got was a hissed “I’ve gotta go” before they were popping their shoes on and practically running out the door. 

So he was left alone in a puddle of his own shame. The ebbing warmth of passion mixed with the heat of embarrassment made him uncomfortably warm in his newfound solitude. So he cleaned himself up in silence, just like every other time. 

~

A few days after one of these dalliances, they called and demanded to come over, saying they needed to talk about something. He let them in with a smile and was promptly denied a hug.

“I’m breaking up with you, Huxley,” they said coldly. “I’m done with you.” 

He stood there in his doorway, taken aback by the bluntness of it all. Whatever questions he hoped to ask died in his throat. He stared at the floor for a long moment, trying to wrap his brain around all of it. 

“Did…” his voice was quiet, just barely audible. “Did I do something wrong?” They stared at him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and disgust. They clicked their tongue and looked him up and down. 

“Yes, Huxley. You did a lot of things wrong.” Their tone was sharp, barely concealing the anger bubbling beneath the surface. They glared at him, obviously waiting for him to start groveling, begging for forgiveness, something. But he didn’t. 

“Oh, ok. Can you tell me what I did? So I can be better?” The earnest request was enough to set them off. They started pacing in circles, yelling in his general direction but never actually looking at him. 

“God, I can’t do this anymore! You’re just so-” they waved their arms around wildly, searching for the words. “You’re too much, Huxley! You’re just too much for me to deal with, and I can’t do it anymore!” They screamed, still motioning with their hands. They paused a moment when they realized what they said. They took a deep breath and glared at him. “There, I said it. Are you happy now? You’ve got your explanation, so just leave me the fuck alone, alright?” 

They stormed off, slamming his door behind them and leaving him alone for the last time. 

~ 

So that was his story. The long-awaited explanation of why his walls were built so high. He stared down at his own hands, too nervous to meet Damien’s eyes. 

“So, uh, yeah. That’s why, I guess,” Huxley mumbled. A gentle hand cupped his cheek, turning his attention back up to his lover’s face. A soft smile that actually reached his eyes was plastered across his face. 

“I have never thought you were too much, Hux,” Damien’s words were quiet and genuine. “But if I ever, and I mean ever, make you feel like that, tell me. Ok?” Huxley nodded, leaning into his touch and letting his eyes drift closed. His boyfriend pressed a kiss to his forehead and pulled him into a hug. This felt good, felt safe.

“I love you, Huxley.” 

“I love you too, Dames.” 

[tumbletaker]

Asset: You'd better stop raising your voice at me! James: Or what?! Asset: I'll cry, and I really don't want to be embarrassed right now!

[pluralzalpha]

Links to all my fiction currently available online (mostly but not entirely Doctor Who). I'll update it as and when.

CLASSIC WHO

The Gift of the Garb

Double-drabble. Third Doctor and Jo.

Shadow at the Heart

With James P. Quick. TDWP Brief Encounters series. Fifth Doctor and Nyssa.

Monkey Cups

TDWP Brief Encounters series. Sixth Doctor and Peri.

The Sleeping Ones

Seventh Doctor and Ace. Originally for Mythmakers Presents: Golden Years.

Missing in Action

Seventh Doctor.

Auld Lang Syne

Eighth Doctor (Amnesia arc) and Valeyard. Originally for Shelf Life.

MODERN WHO

Too Young To Die

Eighth to Ninth Doctor. Written long before we knew about the War Doctor or the Moment.

A World Apart

Ninth Doctor, Rose, Captain Jack and Iris Wildthyme. Originally on the Iris Wildthyme Pages, later printed in Bafflement and Devotion.

The Orb of Amarella

Tenth Doctor.

Time-Crossed

First Doctor, Steven and Sara Kingdom; Eleventh Doctor, Amy and Rory. Originally for Time Shadows: Second Nature.

Ace

Thirteenth Doctor and Ace. Written pre-Power of the Doctor.

The Under Gallery

The Curator (Tom Baker version).

ALT & FAN DOCTORS

A Spoonful Weighs a Ton

Shalka Doctor, Alison and the Master.

Frozen in Time

Shalka Doctor and the Master. Originally for Nine Lives.

The Fossilist

With James P. Quick. TDWP Brief Encounters series. Basil Rathbone (9th) Doctor, Silver and Mary Anning.

City of the Dragon

TDWP main series. Basil Rathbone (9th) Doctor, Val and Tom.

Peace of Mind

TDWP main series. Vincent Perez (10th) Doctor, Val and Tom.

Timebase

With Hamish Crawford and Meg MacDonald. TDWP Main series. Winston Adderly (11th) Doctor, Maggie and Simon.

BATMAN

World's Greatest Detective: The Lynx of Mbacké

Two-part audio adventure! CP Studios. Starring Terry Cooper as Batman and Jessica Matthews as Selina Kyle.

ORIGINAL SCI-FI & FANTASY

Ginny

Don't Drink the Water

The Edge: Gazing Into Other Worlds

Pathways to Now

[evasive-anon]

PROJECT HALF-A MISSION GZ-001 | AUDIO LOG 001

Masterpost.

FIELD TEAM THETA MISSION REPORT MISSION ASSIGNMENT GZ-001 T-Minus 00:00 TRANSCRIPT

[Audio log starts] [Sound of footsteps echoing in the containment chamber] Agent L (L): This is Agent L, leader of Field Team Theta, reporting in. We've gathered in Containment Chamber-XXXX at The Ghost Portal for our final mission debrief. The scientists are preparing to open the portal, and we'll be boarding the Specter Speeder shortly. [sound of the chatter of GIW scientists as final checks are completed] Agent P (P): (eager) It's finally happening! I’ve had all my equipment ready for weeks. I even unpacked it so I could pack it again after creating improved models in my excitement. Agent O (O): (amused) I may not have packed twice but I’ve been dreaming off this day for so long I could claim at least a thousand hours in the somnus simulation. Agent N (N): (wistful) Nothing can beat the thrill of being the first to see the unknown. Agent M (M): (sincere) I imagine you would be the one to know, N. I cannot imagine anyone here has seen more of the unknown than you and your ‘Lost City’. Agent N (N): (doubtful) Not sure I can claim that for a fact with you on the team, Agent M. A Lost City was by its nature seen by someone before. I imagine the depths of the ocean you explored were far less traveled. [sound of a door whooshing open, chatter quiets for a moment, leaving just footsteps as the team boards the Specter Speeder] Agent L (L): (calmly) Remember, everyone, our mission objectives are clear. We're here to explore the Ghost Zone, gather data on entities and anomalies, maintain communication with the GIW lab, and, if necessary, capture or destroy any ectoplasmic entities we encounter. [sounds of seatbelts clicking as agents are seated] Agent M (M): (dutifully) And let's not forget to stay vigilant and rely on each other. Teamwork is crucial for our safety. Agent N (N): (stage whisper) Sounds like somebody is aiming for de facto second in command. [Agent O is heard snickering.] Agent M (M): (embarrassed) It’s not like that! We’re about to embark on a very important mission and we’re being recorded. Some decorum should be expected. Agent L (L): (resigned) I appreciate your efforts, Agent M. [sound of the Ghost Portal opening] Agent O (O): (excited) The portal's open, y’know what that means. To infinity. . . and BEYOND. Agent N (N): (laughing) I know you have kids, O, but I think the rest of these nerds are too old or single for your references. Agent P (P): (quietly) I understood that reference. Agent M (M): (bemused) I admittedly did not. Agent L (L): (sighs) Agent O, prepare to launch.  [sound of the Specter Speeder engines starting and levers being switched, O can be heard faintly humming to the tune ‘You Got a Friend in Me.”] Agent L (L): (firmly) Once we're through that portal, stay alert and stick to the plan. We're Field Team Theta, and we've got a mission to accomplish. We do not know what lies beyond that Portal but we know each other and our skills.  Agent N (N): (enthusiastic) Go Team Theta! Agent L (L): (quietly) Just my luck I got assigned the rowdy ones. [Audio log ends]

[podficplayers]

Hello and welcome to The Podfic Players! Feel free to ask any questions and thank you for stopping by!

--

What's the project about? - The Podfic Players is a project determined to rid of the stigma surrounding fanfiction. There are so many incredibly talented writers out there who are discredited solely on the fact their writing isn’t completely original, so we wanted to take the opportunity to display their talent. Our audio drama is a dramatic reading of different fanfictions complete with voice acting, sound effects, and background music to create a fully immersed story.

Are you taking requests right now? - Right now, we are not taking requests. We will announce here when we are ready to open submissions, so keep an eye out!

What kind of fanfics? - Fanfictions from any fandom are welcome! We will only be taking recommendations from archiveofourown.org for organizational purposes and later down the line a more detailed list of requirements will be released once we are ready to start taking requests. When that time comes, however, any and all types of stories will be read.

Where can I listen to it? - Currently, we are in the early stages of production. Official platforms will be announced at a later date! Until then, you can follow our journey on our TikTok account (@podfic.players)

Mods:

Star - She/Her, American (tragically), the fanfic one. I bring the majority of the fandom knowledge to the project, having spent many many years traversing the lands of fanfiction. I would be utterly lost without Grace when it comes to actually knowing how to do things, but hey, I know how to run Tumblr! I’ve also written my own handful of fanfiction in the past, so this project is very personal to me. From one writer to another, we all deserve our moment to shine! Some personal favorite fandoms of mine are Trollhunters, DSMP, and Undertale (though I've been in several more). [Personal blog is @starlyte-writes ]

Grace - She/Her, From the Feywild, the clueless one. I don’t know much about fanfiction, but I know a lot about business and logistics. I’m also very passionate about writing & promoting young voices. I’ve worked in writing and voice acting, so hey, audio dramas are a home sweet home for me. Thank you Star for teaching me how to use Tumblr and AO3. My favorite fandoms are Critical Role and Leigh Bardugo’s Grishaverse. [Personal blog is @just-another-loaf ]

Tags:

#modstar - Whenever Star has something to say

#modgrace - Whenever Grace has something to say

#calling all nerds - Whenever an announcement is made

#new episode - Whenever a new episode is posted

#ask and ye shall receive - Whenever a question is answered

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Protocol Mug - Day Three

Welcome to day three! I actually enjoyed writing this. The dynamic between Asset and James is barely in existence, but the few videos they interact are some of my favorites. So enjoy.

Prompt: Hand-painted mugs

Characters: James and Asset

CW: Mentions of distrust, reverse of progress, worries about the future, a hint of mystery, fluff if you squint. And I mean if you squint like you’re half blind and are trying to see the details of a mosquito’s wings. Might as well get a fucking microscope at this point, minimal cursing 

Masterlist

Asset followed the security guard down the hall, the noise compressors installed into their body silencing the otherwise loud metallic footsteps they would have had against the linoleum. They stared straight ahead, line of sight bypassing the security guards shoulder.

The day had started out simply enough. They had powered on Marcus would have said they should use the term "woken up" because it made them more relatable to humans, which would improve their social standing, and picked out an outfit to wear today. Granted there was no variation. But they could pick out which white long sleeved shirt and light gray pants they wished to wear. Footwear was unnecessary and their installment team wanted to test the noise compression updates. They were partial to the socks commonly found within a human hospital that allowed for the wearer to find friction on the ground for movement. They liked the soft sound of it sticking. Plus when they were well and truly alone, as much as they could be, they could turn the sock around and use the fabric to slide this way and that.

They had been waiting for the first summons or appointment when the security guard had come to get them. That only ever meant one thing. They were going to meet with James.

She didn't acknowledge them as she knocked on the door to James' office. She only departed when the door was pulled open and Asset was greeted with his smiling face. Smiles can't be trusted. Don't start now.

"Good morning. How are you doing?" James asked them as they entered. The bionic eyes shifted in their sockets, documenting every new and little shift of their surroundings before they took their usual seat.

"I'm well. All my systems are functioning properly, and the new upgrades appear to be working as the installment team had hoped. As for my emotional health, nothing today has gone wrong to cause a dip within my... happiness." They answered, hands folding in their lap as they looked at James carefully. "How are you this morning?" James smiled at them, but it was soon replaced by a frown. Their emotional detection reasoning spun as they tried to orient and assign an emotion to the expression on his face.

"A bit troubled if I'm being honest. I'm worried about you. Do you want to tell me what's going on?" They seriously doubted that he needed anything from them. After all every activity they participated in, whether scheduled or not, was documented and reported to him and his own teams. So he would know everything. They looked away.

"I don't know what you are referring to. Please specify." They replied. It was a demand, but James knew they meant it as a question.

"Gladly. The newly appointed lead for your social protocol team reported you as uncooperative and disinterested." If they were human, they might have flinched. But they weren't, so they remained still with their expression carefully maintained. "And it's only with your social protocol. I can understand how it might unnerved you, but is there another reason why you want to avoid all interactions with the team?" He asked. They wished he hadn't been so thorough with his question. It had been purely analytical, so there was no room to dodge or leave information out. He certainly had a knack for getting to the heart and root of all of their problems.

They fidgeted with the stitched hem of their shirt. He knew it was on purpose though. Every action that seemed accidental was always done on purpose and thought through.

"I don't want to risk something like the code happening again." They muttered and James nodded with a sigh. They didn't like it, but they kept the opinion to themselves. They watched him lean against the edge of the desk and cross his arms over his chest.

"That's understandable. But these protocols are important to your connection to humanity. And you have to have that connection to have true and unshakeable motivation to save us. It's unknown what you'll encounter but we have to make sure you'll never waver." He said, sympathy coating his words. They nodded along with a frown. "Would it help if it was someone you could trust?" He asked. They stared at him before their shoulders moved in a shrug.

"I suppose if I already had a solid basis of trust and mutual understanding, it would make me less apprehensive to allow my social training to resume." They relented, unsure of where the conversation was going. They knew everyone that worked with them, but that didn’t necessarily mean they trusted them. The only person they could think of that they trusted was Anton, but he was on the team that focused on installing upgrades. That was what his contract was for. They watched as James nodded as if he had gotten some clarity. They still remained confused however.

“Alright. Do you trust me?” He asked, still staying where he was. They eyed him before copying his open stance. It wasn’t a perfect replication, but the flaws in it were also made on purpose.

“I suppose so. However, I don’t have a lot of data on you. While you have been very forthcoming with information in the past, you also held some information away. It brings into questioning what else you’re not releasing to me.” They responded. James’s smile didn’t go away, but his eyes remained guarded. They weren’t going to pull anything new from him, but that was expected. If they had been trying to get more information from him, they would have continued their line of questioning. Instead they leaned back in their seat and dipped their head a few calculated degrees towards him. James clapped his hands together, signaling a change in the conversation direction.

"Well then. Now that you've established you trust me, with some added tidbits, how would you feel if I took over your social protocol training? At least until you built a relationship with your new team lead and member, or until we found a suitable replacement. Whichever comes first I suppose." He asked. Asset paused at the offer, genuinely caught off guard. It didn't happen very often since they were usually able to predict outcomes. Then again, James had always managed to trick them. So they shouldn't be surprised. Although it was a very human thing to do - becoming surprised by the typical behavior of an individual.

"You have enough recreational time to set some aside in your schedule to take part in my training, James?" They asked skeptically. James didn't answer them, but the question was more rhetorical than it was literal. They nodded, as careful as usual. "I suppose that would be an acceptable temporary arrangement." They responded and James nodded, straightening up as he walked around his desk to the other side.

"Perfect. I figured that we would start now since you're already here. Is that okay with you?" There were a few possible reasons for the consistent check ins. It could be because James was that type of person, he wanted to keep their trust, or he was trying to get them to trust humanity as a whole once again. They guessed it was a mix of the latter two.

"I have no complaints with doing so." They responded, watching curiously as he pulled out a plastic shopping bag. They leaned forward slightly as their eyes grew wider. There was a soft mechanical whir as their pupils audibly zoomed in. James pulled out a couple art kits and he watched with amused interest at the way that Asset replicated the soft scrunch of their nose and the disinterested lip curl that was so present upon human expressions. "You want to do arts and crafts for my protocol training? I don't mean to bring doubt upon your methods, however... unprofessional they may seem, but I must question what painting clay pottery has to do with learning the social behaviors and patterns I'm meant to emulate of the human species." James laughed softly at their confusion as he opened one of the boxes to pull out the kiln-dried mug from its protective styrofoam casing.

"True true. But it's not the act that is the protocol training. It's the act of the bonding over such a project. I admit I also want to test your creative cylinders. But humans are social creatures, so we seek anyway of bonding. Plus I figured it would be a nice way to ease into this arrangement." He said, waving the mug harmlessly by the handle. Asset's eyes tracked the movement before their gaze shifted to lock eyes with James.

"Observations tell me that you have no inclination how my social team teaches and trains me." They deadpanned. His smile turned sheepish and he shrugged. His eyes never lost the guarded calculating look though.

"Guilty as charged. I can put the mugs away if you'd like." He offered. They stood up and walked over to grab the unopened box. They turned it over in their hand before meeting his eyes again.

"Negative. I'll take part in your scheduled activity. From my understanding, conversation is often present during such activities, often leading to mistakes being made which provokes frustration. I have multitasking program installed, so I shall not get frustrated. What would you like to converse about?"

When James had first met them, their speech had sounded slightly off. Just a nudge away from sounding genuinely human, bar any slang. But after the Marcus incident they had been distancing themselves further from more human speech patterns. It was what had provoked James to intervene in the first place. The concern that they would distance themselves as much as possible from humanity as a whole had been the more concerning factor. The sense of duty to save humanity had already been established, however they also wanted the Asset to desire to save humanity. It would make them try harder and cut no corners.

"It could be anything you'd like." James answered as he pulled out his radio to request a small table to be brought into the office for the two to work on. He watched as they sat down on the floor, carefully and methodically unboxing the mug. He wondered if they would purposefully cause bits of the styrofoam go splinter off like it would under a human's clumsy hands. But they managed it without much mess and collected little bits that came from it scraping against the flimsy cardboard of the box.

"I have nothing to say or contribute. Choosing topics are often in my clearance as well. The privilege was revoked since my topic of interest was always..." Their voice trailed off, body and expression stilling. The silent name was practically tangible. And for a moment they could almost feel his fingertips drifting along their sensors. They shuddered and refocused on the mug. They didn’t look up as the door clicked open and two people entered, carefully carrying a table as the third held the door open. James waited for the door to close before grabbing an edge of the table and scooting it to where he desired.

"I was serious when I said that whenever you changed your mind we could pursue legal action. It might be a bit difficult because of the memory modification, but we have legitimate proof of his crimes.” James offered gently. They looked at him, their head already moving in a shake.

“I would prefer to just try to let it become less detrimental within my memory hard-drive. It’s better to let it not get in the way of my progress.” They responded as they picked up the mug and painting accessories from the floor to bring it to the table. It was at average knee height so there was no need to drag a chair over. They moved towards it on their knees, holding the objects close to their chest. It was a very human behavior, although James didn’t bring it up. He carried his own project and sat down on the floor across from them. The cold temperature of the tile below the rug brushed along his thighs. He was sure that they were able to detect it. But it wouldn’t bother them.

“Alright. I just want you to know that the offer was still on the table.” He said as he leaned an elbow on the table, fist supporting the weight of his head, as he eyed the mug calmly. They stared at him, trying to analyze and sort his behavior. Giving credit where credit is due, he looked very relaxed and open. Too bad he couldn't mask the expression in his eyes. Unless he was leaving that open on purpose. Or was that a mask hiding different intentions itself? "You're trying to read me again, aren't you?" James asked, his attention now returned to them. There was no point in lying.

"I'll admit there was never a pause or lull in my analyzing. It's always active and directed to any organic lifeforms in my vicinity. Isn't that what some of my program updates' purpose was?" They answered. They grew confused at the appearance of a crease in their... what was he... owner? Boss? Manager?’s forehead. He didn't give them a chance to ask a question. He simply wet his brush before dipping it into the paint palette and began to carefully move it along the mug. They stared before mirroring the action. They hesitated before letting it touch the dried clay though, thinking. They let the brush touch briefly in intervals to let it place small green circles over the expanse.

"Have you decided what you want to talk about?" James asked. They glanced at him, but he was still carefully constructing a pattern out of their view.

"Yes, I have realized a conclusion to your inquiry. I would like our topic of discussion to be about you. It seems only fair considering how you already know everything about me. Especially since you been on this project since before the start of my operating. Don't you agree?" They asked. It was a little passive aggressive of them, but if it would get them what they wanted, it was a small price to pay. Silence filled the room as James considered his answer and they waited patiently. After a couple minutes he responded slowly. Carefully.

"What about me specifically?" He asked, looking up from his project to regard them. They washed the green away from their brush before putting yellow on one side and making small brushstrokes of the yellow to make repetitive small rectangles.

"Have you always resided within this nearby vicinity?" They asked. James shook his head without pausing to think. It meant that it was a safe question for him to answer. And that meant that some information was being held away from them due to the danger factor of it. How many threats were there?

"No. I travel around some for my job. This is just one of the longer stays." He answered. That didn't surprise them. They had scientists, programmers, doctors, ect. from all over the place brought in under NDA and contract to work on the project. Project being them of course. Of course there were those who didn't mind it as much and those who did. Like Brian. Although was that just because he had to leave his family?

"Do you have family, James?" They asked, the volume of their vocal compartment lowering. It was the most human they had sounded for a while if reports were to be believed. There was a pause this time and their grip tightened slightly on the shaft of the paintbrush, applying more pressure to their mug.

"Yeah, I do. My..." His voice trailed off as he paused to think again. He corrected himself soon after. "The person I care about is waiting for me to come back." He finished. They nodded, understanding the feeling, if a twisted form of it.

"I apologize for keeping you away from your loved one." They added a couple moments later, remorse filling their tone. James smiled.

"This is important. You are important. My partner understands this to some extent due to the confidentiality of this project. Besides, once you succeed, I plan on spending more time with them again. So don't feel sorry for existing. It will be thanks to you that I'll be able to see them again by the end of it." He said. They nodded, not offering a verbal response. The topic was moved away from James, as well as their end goal. A part of them wanted to ask what would become of them once if they completed the goal of saving humanity. Would they be repurposed? Held in some kind of mental frozen animation in case they were needed again? Scrapped?

“What happens at the end, James?” They asked suddenly as they used the water to help blend some blue and violet together so they could get the intended gradient effect on the handle of the mug.

“The end of the book? I haven’t finished it yet, so I don’t know.” James answered, misunderstanding the direction of their question.

“No, at the end of my mission. What happens to me?” They looked up to see James smiling and they frowned in return. What about their question brought him enjoyment? 

“That’s a really human thing to wonder. Improvement. But to answer you question, I don’t know. That would be outside my jurisdiction. I’m high up there, but I still answer to people. It would probably be the decision of the project originators. Which is a council of people when it comes to answering that. I hold no sway there.”

Out of all the information within their grasp, all the statistics they were able to run, variables to account for, educated and often correct assumptions to make, the answer of their future was always out of their reach.

A soft buzzer sounded and the door opened. They looked up to see the face of a security guard to act as their escort. “It’s time for their physical, sir.” The guard said. James sighed and nodded, standing as well.

“Alright then. Next time I suppose. Thank you for meeting with me today. I’ll see you again in a couple days, is that alright?” They stood, hesitantly leaving the partly finished mug on the table. 

“Yes, that’s fine.” There was only an illusion of another answer choice, but they appreciated the structure of a question instead of a demand nonetheless. They dipped their head to James before following the guard out. The door to his office closed behind them. 

James turned towards the table to look down at the paints, cups of water, and two mugs. He picked up the Asset’s to look at it. As soon as he did, he swallowed at the sight, a chill running down his spine and his jaw tightening. He stared at the design on top of the blended background. How the fuck did they know what a shade looked like?

[jynxeddraca]

I swear, I try to pull myself out of brain rot mode and then I find things that slam me face-first into new brain rot. I'm going to have to make a side blog for all the thirsty fan stuff I keep running across because I am going to get majorly judged if I reblog things to main.

[salemthetown]

hello to the 5 ppl who follow me (and anyone else ofc) i just had a spur of the moment idea. i was doing some thinking as one does and i realized that most marauders fics do not have an audio recording or audio book which makes them inaccessible to anyone who wants to read them (screen readers exist but thats just a monotone voice). idk if anyone has seen the Marauders Audio Project on tiktok thats making a voice recording of choices but i was wondering if anyone would be interested in doing that for other fics. if you are please dm me on here or snap (isie.miller) or discord (feline drug dealer#8575). i would love to make this happen for anyone who wants to participate :)

[konnorhasapen]

When you cant remember what name you gave to which kingdoms and which people you gave kingdoms to and where those kingdoms are in the city you turned into a country

[thebrookesnook]

if i had the ability to edit & animate, u bet ur asses im gonna be making shitara edits and animations

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

First. Side note: This post was only intended to give resources to fanfiction writers and enjoyers. My talk on recent political events was a context/reasoning on why I made this post. Also I’ve had to add more information to this post over time due to people’s confusion in my comments. Explaining it was to make sure that this post didn’t come off as out of the blue for my followers and this community. Which is fanfiction.

Also, why I made this post was from people asking if they could download my fanfiction because of the recent political events in America hence why I named it “saving my fanfiction work” and added my context. So this was also a post to tell people that liked my fanfiction they could download it as long as it was for their personal collection. I merely just wanted to list resources to people who wanted to download fanfiction and don’t know where to start or don’t have the immediate resources. I’m not here to fear-monger. I am just giving resources and the reasoning on why I’m giving them along with urging people to look into those information/recent events as staying aware is important. I respect everybody who’s given their opinion and yes, some of my grammar in this post is not adequate as this post was merely made for giving/stating resources.

Lastly, I will no longer update this post with comments as I’ve said my peace, nor will I pay attention to the notifications as they are muted. As my page is for fanfiction not politics. Thank you for the people in this community who share this post for the resources see you around the tags! Stay safe friends!!✨ Remember I love you! And you are loved!💛

-

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

Along with the KOSA bill that has many problems and it has passed the senate now needing the finally vote in the house, which both are majority red. Go here to learn more on why it needs to be stopped and how you can. This is another component that will harm our communities. Go to: stopkosa.com

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only. To clarify I’m saying this as others have asked if they could download my fanfic so for those who would like to you can.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

And here are some resources in case you don’t feel okay! Resources here