#bc could fit in that tag too; in spite of how Soft this one is jdbfkdgf

[iicynox-art]

…13 from the Expression + Hands meme for Tenko? 👀👉👈 The Raptor Hands tm called out to me.

『 Meme || Accepting 』

[redgoldblue]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Tagged by @luredin. Thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3?

49. which is insane to me. especially if you consider that 10 of those are actually 24 fic(let)s in one

What's your total AO3 word count?

360,722

What fandoms do you write for?

Whichever bug bites me. But the major ones are Hawaii Five-0 and Starsky & Hutch.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Would Break Into Your House Just To Put Sugar In Your Tea (H50)

think about how good these seeds have sown (H50)

If You're Waiting On Me You're Backin' Up (I'm Way In Over My Head In Love) (H50)

unfortunately, Hands (House MD) (me and Hands have a contentious relationship. many of my friends could tell you of it. i long for the day i knock it out of top 5)

Not A Booty Call (Suits)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Not usually :(. I used to respond to all of them, but then it was making me stressed out about doing it, so I made a conscious decision that i did not have to do that and now I only respond to the occasional one that I actually have a response for other than 'thank you [heart emojis]'

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh my dude. do i... do that? do I have literally any that fit that criteria? maybe To Love (Verb, Transitive) (S&H), although that should tell you how incredibly unangsty most of my endings are.

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

Happiest, as opposed to fluffiest. hm. different criteria. I think happiest might be either If You're Gonna Do It, Do It Right (which is actually one of my angstiest fics in its body) or I Would Break Into Your House (both H50). Or Come Take The Wheel (S&H). Or Smarties Cookies (Non-Violent) (Leverage), which literally ends with the word 'happy'. as you can tell, this is much more up my alley.

Do you get hate on fics?

I do not, although I did get a comment waaayyy back in 2013 which funnily did not mention my actual writing, which was terrible, my being 13 and only writing for a year, but did tell me that the premise of my fic was out of character. it's possible that contributed to why i'm now borderline spiteful about making fics in character.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah. Not a lot, but yeah. is bdsm/bdsm-overtoned a kind? That. Sometimes with feelings sometimes not particularly, but if it's with feelings it will be a truly stupid amount of feelings.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not for years, but my very first multi-chapter >10k fic was BBC Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover. it was 2014. don't look at me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

...yeah. Avengers crack!fic. the only fic from pre-2017 I'm happy to link, bc pure crack doesn't care about how good your writing is.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Look. I would be a liar if I said anything other than Steve/Danny. Other ships may come and go but these fucked up obliviously married certified Dad™ middle-aged white guy cops made a permanent and large imprint on my mind and there are entire worm colonies living in that imprint.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The long Suits season 8 canon divergence fic, where Harvey's mother dies a season earlier than in canon and Mike flies back to help him through it. The first two chapters are literally like, 100 words away from being finished, so it's possible that if I ever feel the urge to watch Suits again I will drum up a truncated third chapter and post it but. it's also very possible I will not. There's a 5+1 Geraskier fic it would've been nice to finish too, but I don't ever see that happening.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, humour, emotional description that's just enough to the left of normal analogies that it makes you actually stop and think about/feel it. Occasionally, punch-to-the-gut-with-softness lines.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Physical description, good lord. Especially of settings. Having any reasonable idea of how long a fic is going to be. Actually doing the work of writing in between the times where the words just spontaneously appear in my head. Not as relevant for fic as for original work, but calculating how much backstory readers actually need.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't know that I've ever really done it in fic, other than the occasional Yiddish word for Jewish characters, but I am doing it a little bit in my novel WIP, bc 2.5 of my MCs are Latinx and occasionally speak Spanish with each other. I think it's fine in moderate doses, assuming the characters actually would be using it, but that it should follow the same rules as pop culture references: either the meaning is broadly deducible from context, or it's not either vital to the plot or hugely disruptive of flow if you don't understand it. Also if it's anything more than single words you should probably get someone who actually speaks the language to check it for you.

First fandom you wrote for?

...BBC Sherlock

Favorite fic you've ever written?

can i say a wip. my spouse/neurological infection state of disrepair. but okay no in posted fics... ykw even though it's a fandom i am off and on with, and mostly off, and currently off, When You're Loving Me (That's When I'm Loving You) (NCIS: LA) is a solid contender. But I also am quite happy with I Would Break Into Your House being my top kudosed, I think it deserves it.

Tagging: @actingcamplibrarian @osointricate @bookwhimses @faorism @gallantrejoinder

[diyeoracha]

fanfic recommendations

for @kittensocute bc i heard “atsukita” and “iwaoi” in reference to fanfiction and i am There

i took your “i love slow burn or slow build fics... so i like relatively shorter burn fics (20-30k). If its a 10k oneshot slow burn hELL SIGN ME UP” and absolutely ran with it.

i listed my fav iwaoi fics (17) with a longer word count (longest is 80k) that are all mostly either canon compliant or divergent with only two straight up AUs. none of them feature heavy nsfw content and most if not all are tagged as friends to lovers lmao. feel free to read the my thoughts or just go into them blind!! and they’re all in order of how much I absolutely adore them :^)

now atsukita is not a big ship *sobs* but here are some of my favorite fics (7) of them! a lot of them are shorter bc i guess that’s just. what happens when it’s a small ship LOL. 

the formatting in this is fucked if you open it from ur dash but if it’s on my actual blog it should be fine!

Iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

thoughts: my absolute absolute absolute favorite iwaoi fic. the characterization, the fact that oikawa’s a bastard but because he and iwaizumi are older (late 20s i believe), it feels more realistic and sad rather than oikawa being a bitch for the sake of it. spoiler alert it’s slow burn and pining and mostly oikawa not realizing his feelings. this world building is pretty cool bc iwaizumi is the professional player while oikawa is an entomology professor! also i love non-linear narratives bc of This fic. there’s mutual pining in this fic but it’s really really really subtle to the point where you dont even know if oikawa likes iwa. this made me cry like twice.

sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

thoughts: the tone in this is So similar to the courtship ritual that I liken this as an alternate story even though it’s still oikawa’s pov. professional player oikawa and regular guy iwaizumi and oikawa is just. bumming around at iwaizumi’s place and naturally he messes up but things happen.

told before and told again

word count: 4k

thoughts: i looked through literally all the tags i could’ve thought of for this and nearly cried when i found it agian. outsider POV!!

In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

thoughts: oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and they blur the line between roommates/best friends and being fwb. this is an iwaizumi pov and the pining is obvious on his end. as a iwa stan the tone made me feel weird bc it makes it seem like iwa cares more abt oikawa than he cares abt himself but. its a good fic

i grew up, you grew down

word count: 19k

thoughts: this is also SO funny bc basically oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and becomes his stay at home wife and a bunch of shit happens like people think that oikawa is dating ushijima and oikawa basically loses it every time. here’s one of my favorite quotes:

“Oikawa also bought a new ultra-strength vacuum cleaner he’d decided to name Ushiwaka out of sheer spite, because it sucked all the air right out of the room. Iwa-chan didn’t think the joke was that funny when Tooru told him, which was frankly very hurtful and insensitive.”

Mint

Word count: 19k

thoughts: iwaizumi is moving and oikawa planned a perfect last hangout and it goes to shit featuring matsuhana. oikawa pov where he pines more than iwa which is something i can get behind!! and this was written in 2015 and iwa’s moving bc of a sports medicine program so iwaizumi stans know and love him sm ;;

Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

thoughts: same premise as mint LOL except they’re on a trip together and there’s more non-linear narrative!! this one is a little more mature in tone than mint i would say (funny how people just like splitting them up and throwing them in different countries huh)

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates and they’re both obviously and really pine-y for each other and everyone sees it but them. srsly. they’re sleeping in the same bed. like my god

Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women’s volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

thoughts: so funny. so sososoosso genuinely funny. the tone is so snappy and iwaizumi honestly just sounds like a confused teenager (which he is in this) and it gets extra points for including a lot of american culture that a lot of the other iwaoi college au ones don’t include for like. obvious reasons lol.

Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates thats abo but it’s like. mentioned twice. whiny and possessive oikawa makes an appearance in this but it’s done really well

things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he’s in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only for a little while.)

thoughts: high school getting together!! my second iwaoi fic ever and this one is just. so sweet. just an unsure oikawa realizing iwaizumi might be more than someone he wants as a best friend. this fic is honestly really really lovely.

galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

thoughts: ok this fic was so funny. theyre uni roommates and matsuhana just come fuck shit up and they all act like idiots together even though they go to different schools. and this really throws me back to university days.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

thoughts: pro! oikawa and iwaizumi haven’t been close for a while until oikawa invites iwaizumi to go to the games with him. there’s a lot of frustration and pining and actually talking about feelings (aka iwaizumi losing his mind and getting advice from people like akaashi)

when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

thoughts: this was actually my first iwaoi fic which is funny bc the author doesn’t even like oikawa much and i didnt even ship anything in haikyuu before i read this fic and now im in iwaoi hell. oikawa is really frustrating in this in that it’s basically a really good character analysis on how oikawa comes off as a Mean person all the time bc he’s manipulative and there’s some explicit content

shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates with oikawa admitting his feelings first back when they were in middle school and iwaizumi putting that thought on the backburner until. obviously. things happen.

Desperado

word count: 80k

thoughts: one of my favorite aus. it’s all from kyoutani’s perspective and it’s almost so au that they’re original characters (if that makes sense). basically iwaoi matsuhana are ex-grifters except iwaoi are estranged and daishou somehow brings everyone back together. excellent world building and reading the pov from someone not involved with the iwaoi drama was refreshing

sing with me a song of conquest and fate

word count: 26k

thoughts: a mythical kings au that’s just. so pretty. iwaizumi ends up becoming oikawa’s servant for some reason and the world building is a+ because you can feel the trust and frustration from both of them build

Atsukita

dreams of me and you

word count: 10k (incomplete)

my second atsukita fic that rly sent me down atskt hell ;; what is essentially post-break up when atsumu gets signed to msby and he’s just Pining and sad for the most part. but the established relationship pre-break up was written really nicely because it just fits my hc of them just being domestic and atsumu being blatantly head over heels

take me home

word count: 4k

i read this this morning and it wrecked me. domestic relationship atsukita?? sign me up

No time like the rest of my life

word count: 19k

mythology au with kita as a regular person and rest of inarizaki as fox spirits! it’s cute and the world building is absolutely lovely but it is an au so they might seem ooc but their core character values are still there

wild blue yonder

word count: 6k

literally full of similes and metaphors and it’s more of an abstract read i guess? but it’s so beautiful and soft and this is exactly how i imagine their relationship

reap and sow

word count: 8k

atsumu confesses and kita ignores him and it’s a couple years after the fact and it’s mostly just weirdly domestic almost roommate like except for the fact that atsumu makes it clear he likes kita LOL. they’re really in character for this!

weightless souls

word count: 2k

pillow talk before atsumu’s first game! the atsumu pov and voice is amazing

if we were both alone

word count: 7k

now this was actually my first atskt fic that sent me down this rare pair hell. it’s an explicit chat fic (both tropes i usually try to avoid) but atsumu types like me (except for the nsfw parts alksfjd) so i guess i like. feel appreciation LMAO.

if you do read like any of these fics pls let me know so we can discuss

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

[sanctamater]

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

i. what does your muse smell like?

a light, floral perfume - top notes of citrus, heart notes of tuberose and jasmine, and deep, underlying base notes of sandalwood and vanilla. it’s her signature scent - one she’s had created especially for her within columbia; and while it is often imitated, it is never duplicated. under that, she smells of fresh linens and lye soap, toasted sugar and caramel. if she’s stressed, however - or has been on her own - she’ll smell of too much perfume and the underlying, acrid bite of cigarette smoke. 

ii. what do your muse’s hands feel like?

soft. she’s never done any hard labour in her life and is always wearing gloves and applying creams. she’s got long fingers and impeccably maintained and manicured nails - smooth, near perfect. there’s a callous that has formed on the left side of her right middle finger from where her pens constantly rest upon the skin when she writes - it’s the only noticeably rough area of her hands, and it shows up as a permanently raised bump when she is not wearing gloves. 

iii. what does your muse usually eat in a day? 

life at comstock house is dictated by schedules and briefings - and as lady of the house, amelia approves and runs these schedules, ensuring that all inside keep time properly. that being said - amelia usually plans her meals a week in advance, and every meal is always grand, given her status.

for breakfast, it depends on if she is receiving guests in the morning - if so, it will be a formal buffet breakfast in the informal dining room. beginning with fruit courses, it would then be followed by a mild dish based with cream before breakfast plates were laid. coffee and tea are readily available during this entire event - eggs of any sort (preferably boiled or poached) are served, followed by a light tomato salad, chicken, and rice. the final course would be a cold fruit dessert. this sort of breakfast only happens if the comstocks are having overnight guests - usually, amelia is served a breakfast of fruit, toast, and one soft boiled egg with tea in her bedroom via tray. 

lunch is an equally elaborate affair, with service at the table from staff. again, it starts off with a fruit course, followed by a plain soup (usually broth), oysters and bread, roast chicken with mushroom sauce, and small filets with a spiced brown sauce. this would be accompanied with roast potatoes, salad with a vinaigrette, and then finished with parfaits, bonbons, cakes, and coffee. amelia prefers smaller scale lunches since she usually eats alone and will often take just a sandwich from dinner leftovers and coffee - but she is ever a perfect hostess, and must make sure her guests are fed when they are in her wing of the mansion for lunch; which happens more often than not.

dinner always has guests. always. there are always politicians, lawyers, administrators and more who show up for dinner and once again includes table service. dinner would start with another light soup paired with sherry, then a lightly spiced fish (usually bass or trout) with a white wine. then, the main course would come - usually fowl, mutton, or beef with champagne or claret wine. this part of dinner would also come with roast potatoes and seasonal vegetables. the next course would be wild game such as pheasant or quail, with round potatoes and another round of claret. then, the vegetable courses and cheeses before the table was finally cleared and more wine was set out; followed by ice wine, sweets, cakes, and mousses. dinner would end with the ladies leaving to the drawing room to drink tea and coffee while the men would smoke and drink in the formal dining room before joining the women in the drawing room. amelia finds it exhausting.

iv. does your muse have a good singing voice?  

she did. once. amelia had a fine singing voice that was light and clear - she might have been able to go upon a stage, had her station in life not been so secure. as it stands, it was always a treat to hear her sing at parties; and she had a great many admirer in her youth who would come flocking to her after hearing her sing and play. however, the attempt on her life in 1895 has left her with permanent damage in her throat in the form of one paralyzed vocal chord that she never quiet gained use of again after speech therapy. as such, she cannot sing - it’s hoarse and quite, and can send her into fits of coughing or cause her physical pain to sing. she doesn’t talk about it any more. no one asks. 

v. does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? 

smoking and swearing. not that anyone will ever catch the holy mother doing either of these activities - but she is an avid smoker when stressed and could never quite muster the ability to quit; and while she knows it wouldn’t look right for the average worshipper to see the holy mother smoking a branded cigarette - she does partake in private quite often. in tandem with that, her time in new york’s underbelly and her own spiteful nature has armed her with an arsenal of swear words that she often uses when stressed or angry. it’s not uncommon for staff to hear muffled swearing from her office when passing by - and something that is better left unmentioned. 

vi. what does your muse usually look like/wear? 

amelia dresses in the latest fashions - often stolen from french papers below - and is always sumptuously dressed in exquisitely tailored gowns. the cuts and shapes are always perfectly fitted to her with nary a wrinkle, and are always ahead of the curve - however, her dresses are never garish or gaudy in nature. they’re usually relatively plain - blues of all shades in satins and velvet accented with white and the occasional gilt trim. subtle embroidery and lace inserts - always light and airy, never dark; never drab. everything lies in the cut of her gowns and the way they shape and form her. her shoes are always polished patent leather, her gloves are always buttoned at the wrist; accented with her wedding bands and at her throat her now iconic string of pearls and matching earrings. her hair is always done up in elaborate styles; accented with ribbon or pearls; obscured by a lace wimple that she often wears when out in lieu of hats. there is never a hair out of place, never anything off - she is, in essecence, practically perfect in appearance; as she must be a shining example for all. 

vii. is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? 

it depends. she’s long since given up on being affectionate towards her husband but her children inspire infinite amounts of verbal and physical affection; she’s always stroking their hair, cupping their face; giving them treats and fussing with their clothing. they are, after all, her family. with lovers she’s affectionate but distant - a hand on their arm; stroking a lock of hair behind their ear, a tap on the small of their back. with devotees and strangers, she keeps herself aloof. cold. untouchable. not even administrative workers or politicians can touch or approach her without her permission, and she prefers to keep others at arm’s length. 

viii. what position does your muse sleep in?

on her left side, slightly curled up. she’s a light sleeper and wakes easily - be it via nightmares or sudden noises. even a creaking floorboard could wake her up; and she doesn’t fall back asleep easily. 

ix. could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? 

no. amelia knows where the creaks and groans of the floorboards are in comstock house by now; and has trained herself to be a light and quick step. the only thing someone could hear is the rustling of her dress - but her footfalls are near silent. she wishes to pass through halls in peace. she wishes to be left alone. 

tagged by: stole it from @sanguisvirginis bc i am a little dash goblin tagging: STEAL IT TOO

[ask-de-writer]

THE TAIL OF THE GHOST : Tales to Read AFTER the Lights Are OUT! : (1 part)

Return to the Master Story Index Return to MLP Fan Fiction Return to TALES TO READ AFTER THE LIGHTS ARE OUT!

THE TAIL OF THE GHOST

by De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2317 words

© 2016 by Glen Ten-Eyck Writing begun 10/30/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author. ////////////// Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

He awoke to the almost feathery sensation of tail hairs flirting softly across his face.  Again.  The soft, sweet voice of the young mare offered, “Up, Old Warrior!  It is time for us to battle another night away!”

Opening one eye, the Old Warrior beheld two things.  One, the young mare was right.  The sun was setting.  Time for him to get up and fry a few hay twists for breakfast.

The other was a bit more awkward to see.  The young mare herself.  Other than the fact that her mane and tail were darker than the fur that covered the rest of her, there was simply not much to be seen.  Her outlines were slightly hazy and he could see the wall mount with his old battle honors and medals right through her.

Years ago, needing to reduce the size of a peacetime army, Master Sargent Warrin had been mustered out for his age and infirmity.  Some Infirmity.  True, he was missing the tip joint of his right wing.  That had failed to slow him down any.  Only dumb headquarters brass saw it as an infirmity.

When mustered out, Master Sargent Warrin had got from his forward post in the forest to Fort Everfree Edge faster than the overweight but “fit” pegasus Lieutenant that had delivered his Orders.  The scene that followed had got “insolence” added to his mustering out Orders.

All that he had done, after all, was point out to Base Commander Morrgripe that the UNFIT pony that they were mustering out could out run, out fly and carry a heavier battle pack in the air or on foot than ANY officer in the Fort.  That might have been bad enough, but the 950 golden bits that he had won while proving it, including a bet from the BC, had earned him the insolent tag.

Then the Prance border heated up a few years later.  For the fourth time!  They tried to get him to sign a forced reenlistment.

He had taken great pleasure in rubbing the Infirmity Muster Out in their faces!  At that time he was employed flying express post for Princess Luna’s Royal Road Commission.  AND had racked up SIX commendations for his swift deliveries!

He was smiling as he looked up at his second wall mount.  The commendations for swift post and two of Luna’s Crescents for gallantry in dealing with deadly civil emergencies were in it.

The sweet little mare poked her head through the wall near the stove where he was seasoning his frying hay twists with assorted dried flower tops.

With not a care in the world, she walked on into the kitchen, hooves about 10 cm above the floor.  “Smells lovely, Old Warrior.  I wish that I could eat some along with you.  That is something that I miss a lot.

“Until you came, ponies that stayed here at this old chateau were afraid of me.  I just saw you smiling.  Was it remembering your Insolence or was it the Fast Post Service that you were remembering?”

He looked up and offered her a small plate of his seasoned hay twist.  “It was a little of all three things, Sweetie.  The third being you, of course.  Mostly you.

“Here, this plate is yours for now.  If you cannot eat what I cooked for you, at least you can smell it and share breakfast with me that way.”

Her eyes twinkling, the little mare, Sweetie, sat.  On the air.  And sniffed appreciatively.  He poured her a small cup of the strong Rom black tea that he favored.  She smelled that too, a blissfully happy expression on her face.

He watched in fascination as she reached out a hoof and the day’s mail appeared in the same ghostly form as herself.  When she took back her hoof, all of his day’s mail was solidly there on the table.  She seemed to be pleased at his expression.

He sorted his mail and made a sour expression when he opened one with the Army Retirement Board seal on it.  He brightened considerably at the contents of a different envelope  It bore the seal of Chancery Court of Princess Luna’s Royal Road Commission.

“I have to go down to Everfree Town, Sweetie.  I wish that you could come with me.  I enjoy your company.”

She smiled like a conjurer doing a clever slight of hoof trick.  “I can.  I have followed you to your garden that is in the glen.  Because it was daylight, you could not see me but I was there.  I am hard to see in bright lamplight too.  That does not stop me from seeing you, only you from seeing me.”

“I thought that you were haunting this chateau.”

“I was.  Then you came.  You were not afraid of me.  You even started waking at sunset and spending the night awake, just so that you could see me and talk to me.

“It took some time for me to learn how to talk to you so that you could hear me.  Nobody else can hear me at all.  I love being able to talk to you.  The stories that you tell me of your adventures are endlessly fascinating.  I especially like the one about your meeting Princess Luna on the Prance frontier.”

The ex Master Sargent Warrin grinned!  “You learned how to move real things and that led you to writing too!  I must say that I admire your determination.  I would have loved to have you in a platoon of mine!

“Now, let’s go to Equesrian National Bank and try to settle this business!”

Sweetie smiled happily, “I love going out with you!  What is Equestrian National Bank?”

Bemused, the old warrior paused in the doorway and looked over at Sweetie, who was simply strolling through the wall of the chateau.  There was no porch under her but she did not seem to notice that.

He mused, “Forgot how long ago you died, Sweetie.  A bank is a business that takes money from many ponies and then loans it out to businesses, farms and home buyers.  They make money off of the loans and then share some of what they make with the ponies they got the money from.

“Usually, everypony sort of wins.  While they hold my money, they keep track of how much I have and add on my share of what they earn with it.”

Sweetie had no wings but she easily kept pace with him, seeming to trot along like a pegasus on a well made cloud.  Except, of course, there was no cloud!

With a luminous smile she explained, “I have managed to change from haunting the chateau to haunting YOU!  That means that I HAVE to stay close!  That makes it easy to keep up.  The magic of haunting and all of that.”

He flew with happy strokes of powerful wings.  She trotted ahead and flirted her ghostly tail in his face sometimes!  It made him get a goofy smile on his face every time that she did it.  He spiraled down to the Equestrian National Bank and walked in.

He requested a meeting with Mister Horshiz, the branch Vice President of Operations.  Instead of having to wait, Mister Horshiz, a really sour gray maned red pony, demanded, “There you are, Warrin!  Why are you six days late on the rent for the Royalmont Chateau?  You owe us 1500 golden bits plus six days of penalties!”

Warrin looked askance at him.  “Not possible.  I was PURCHASING the chateau from Princess Luna, who owned it.  There is a title deed transfer that my agent told me has been delayed.  My making the purchase was the Princess’ idea.”

“I have the DEED right here!”

Horshiz held out a blue scrolled edge document.  Warrin’s battle trained reflexes snatched it faster that Horshiz could pull it back.  His eyebrows rose at what he saw.

In a saccharine voice he asked, “Where is the original?  This is a Chancery Copy and it has been altered.  The Royal Seal is a copy, not an original, as required by Crowns Law.”

“That is a trivial detail!  Pay the past due rent and penalties or be evicted at once!” Horshiz demanded.

Sweetie’s voice caught Warrin’s attention.  “Keep him talking love of mine.  I see some very interesting things in this file on his desk!”

Warrin grinned like a shark seeing a helpless swimmer.  “When Princess Luna’s personal property deed was so severely delayed in transfer, I wrote to her.”

He held up his envelope with the seal of the Royal Road Chancery Court on it.  He read, “Dear Master Sargent (Ret.) Warrin:  It is with great pleasure that I enclose your latest Royal Road Fast Post Commendation for assistance in the recent Dappleton Grist Mill dam failure.

“In spite of your Retirement from our Postal Service, your heroic over flight in thunderstorm weather and precise damage assessments made all of the difference for some hundreds of our subjects.

“In response to your request for an audit of the title problem concerning the Royalmont Chateau, I have disturbing news.  The Title Deed was sent to the Everfree Town branch of Equestrian National Bank to have the deed transfer to you notarized and the transfer registered.

“Celestia and I jointly agreed, after the Dappleton disaster, to gift the Chateau to you for your many services to our Realm.  Along with the deed, all needful fees and a full refund of all the monies that you have paid were sent to the Bank.

“The deed, fees and refund were directly stolen.  A Royal Audit has shown other irregularities concerning your accounts at the Everfree EQNB.  Among these, your retirement payments from both Our Army and the Royal Road Post System have subverted.  The direct golden transfers on the Royal Treasury are being made to Everfree EQNB.  They are issuing DRAFTS, which they fail to pay until thirty days have passed, giving them unlawful access to the use of your honorable retirement funds.

“The whole scheme has been directly traced to General  Morrgripe of Fort Everfree, who appears to have a grudge against you concerning how your took your Muster Out.  Something about losing a bet.

“I may add that due to My personal friendship, stemming from your heroic shielding of my person with your body during a surprise attack by Prance forces, it was my request that you be kept in our Royal Armored Pegassi.  However, in the end, such decisions do properly belong to the Base Commander.  Then Colonel Morrgripe ordered you Mustered Out.

“I will never forget that you lost your right wing tip when protecting me during the Third Prance Incursion.  

“Both General Morrgripe and Branch Vice President Horshiz have been summoned to Our Royal Court to answer charges Under Our Royal Wing, concerning the theft of My personal property and gift.  They must also face the subversion of our Royal Retirement System.

“Please find enclosed a fully transferred Title Deed formally Sealed by both my sister Celestia and I.  This Deed supersedes any previous documents and is already Registered in all of the appropriate Courts of Law.

“I remain your loyal friend, Princess Luna.”

While Warrin was reading, he noticed with amusement that he could, just barely, see Sweetie.  She was laying her hoof on documents from the file on Horshiz’s desk.  Like when she picked up his mail at home, the documents faded slowly away while Sweetie grinned.

For his ears alone, she said, “We called them Sharing Associations when I was alive.  Losing needed documents is still a favorite ploy, I see.  He is losing some that he will wish that he still had!”

Warrin grinned even more widely.  He held up his copy of the Chateau’s deed.  “You are effectively dead, except that you will be working on the Royal Roads!  This one is ALREADY registered by the direct order of BOTH Princesses.

“I was coming to let you know that both the payment by draft and the Deed issues had been taken care of.  I was going to let you off the hook on all of this and shaft General Morrgripe, whom I do detest.

“Unfortunately, you just had to try to extort a rent from me for a property that I own outright as a Royal gift.”

Sweetie strolled through Horshiz’s desk and laid her hoof just above Warrin’s lap.  A number of documents faded into existence in his lap.

She hugged him, which felt like being surrounded by the softest of feathers.

Whispering in Warrin’s ear, she said, “Come, my love, let us go to our home and leave this pony to his fate.”

Agreeing, Warrin stood, folding the documents into his shoulder pouch.  He turned to the stunned Horshiz, “I would love to see you try to claim either rent or eviction.  The first thing that the court will do is look to see who owns the property.  The Registry will show that it is ME.  That will make you prima facie guilty of fraud.  You know it, too.

“A pleasant evening to you.”

He stopped by the Police Station and delivered the documents that Sweetie had purloined.  He explained, “These are part of the evidence in a case Under the Royal Wing.”

He produced his letter from Princess Luna.  The desk pony checked his Wants, Warrants, and Summonses file to confirm the Royal Summons and took the documents, saying, “I will be see to getting these forwarded to the Royal Road Chancery Court.”  Shaking his head in disbelief he added, “Stealing from Princess Luna?  Not a wise thing to do!”

Warrin’s flight home to the Chateau was in no way hindered by Sweetie getting in front of him and flirting her tail in his face from time to time.

~THE END~

Return to the Master Story Index Return to MLP Fan Fiction Return to TALES TO READ AFTER THE LIGHTS ARE OUT!

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 14. “I can't come back.” Fandom: Republic Commando Rating: PG Warnings/Tags: none that I can tell, ask to tag if need Summary: Bardan keeps Parja company at the shop on a rainy day. Notes: if I get any details wrong... my bad. also if it wasn’t clear... a lot of my repcomm writing is set in an Etain-lives AU, mostly bc her death makes zero sense in the narrative 

  Bardan lies on an old, well-loved chaise stitched together with the itching fabric sourced from the local farmers. The lights overhead blink in periodic outages---in tandem with the crack of thunder outside and the brilliant flashes through a single window at the far end of the machine shop. One hand facing up, lazy, a device slowly rotates a few centimeters above his palm. 

It’s not what he meant when he offered to help, earlier, but Parja insists he helps by lying there and “holding” the device.

To be honest, he’s not really sure what it does---and he doesn’t ask. 

She stands about two arms’ length from the chaise, arms crossed over her chest. Her tightly braided hair falls over one shoulder, the braids adorned with polished, painted beads that match her usual armor. 

“It’s not doing it,” she says, at length, after another two cracks across the sky outside. “Damn.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” he asks, curious. 

“Shock you,” she says. 

He looks away from the swaying, blinking lights, to the not-quite-cubed device in his hands. 

“Ah,” he says. “Well, it’s definitely not doing that.” 

“Is it doing anything?” 

He frowns in the direction of the device, and raises his hand higher. A small effect on the force and it rotates a tad faster over his palm. He waits a few seconds, watching it spin, and turns his head to look at her. 

“No,” he says. 

“Damn,” she says again.

Parja moves forward to pluck the device from its rotation above his hand, and shakes it between two fingers as she walks back to her worktable. He watches her go, lowering his hand over his chest while he adjusts the one cradling behind his head. 

“Need me to do anything else?” he asks. 

“Just stay there,” she says, and sets the device down on the table. She reaches for something else---her toolbox---and appears to switch her attention to another project. “Maybe tell me a story.” 

He’s not very good at stories. Mereel’s better at that sort of thing, and he’s a long, long way from Mandalorian Space. 

“I don’t have any stories off the top of my head, Parja,” he says, and wonders at what else he could, should, be doing. 

It almost feels like a waste, to lie here and do nothing when he could be outside, doing something. Filling up the time. Helping someone else. Helping Fi. Helping Etain. Helping the other Bralor, under whose care he placed Arla in spite of Kal’s disapproval. 

She moves across the machine shop as the storm clouds outside finally open up, and the torrential downpour crackles over the metal roofing of the establishment. Parja stops at an old speeder, one in obvious and desperate need of TLC---as Mereel likes to put it, tender loving care---and kneels by the engine.

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“Parja,” he says, “You’re never this vague.” 

“Bard’ika,” she says, imitating the way he says her name, “I know this is a touchy subject for you. I’m trying to be tactful.” 

“Please don’t worry about my feelings.”

“Someone has to.”

He frowns, and tilts his head to look back towards the ceiling, to the source of the ungentle drumming of the rains.

The quiet drags on---broken only by the storm---as Parja begins her work on the speeder. 

Bardan thinks about what she could possibly mean. Miss it. Miss what? The Order? The War? The Core?

Someone has to. And what’s that supposed to mean, too?

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You’re not the only one who cares.” 

She sighs, and then sets down one of her tools noisily onto the open toolbox lying on the hard ground.

“I know,” she says. “But of the two of us in here, it feels like I’m the only one.” 

Alright. He can’t have this conversation lying down.

He shifts, to groaning tired muscles, and sits up. His legs swing over the edge of the chair, and his feet touch the floor with a soft, barely-there scuffle. His fingers loosely interlace, hanging with his elbows at either knee and hands between them. 

Parja reaches out, to gently tug a stool over to herself so she can sit, and face both him and the speeder. 

“I just want you to ask me plainly,” he says, “because the Order only ever talked in circles.” 

The look she gives him is… studying. Curious. He can feel the gentle tug of that curiosity, that need, that urge to take apart and piece things together. It’s the look she wears when she plans to work on and rebuild old broken things and restore them to new---or, as she often says to him, better than new. Different, not wanting to reach for the impossible---not aspiring to be unbroken---but to have that brokenness shine through in its new form. 

It’s in everything she does.

It sometimes reminds him of how things could be, should be, but not how things were---in the Jedi Order, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. He knows she means it, even without the unintentional taste of it on the force. “I haven’t met many ex-Jedi. I don’t know what the Order was like.” 

He feels the shrug rise his shoulders even despite not intending to do so---a bad habit he’s picked up from Mereel, maybe. Or Jaing. 

“I do miss it,” Bardan admits. “In the same way I miss a place, or a memory, through the lens of nostalgia---and then I endeavor to remember what it actually was like, when I feel myself doing so.”

Parja hums in response, neither an interruption nor a comment but an acknowledgement she hears him as she returns her attention on the project. She’s still listening---he knows this, too, from experience rather than any crutch to lean on through the force. 

So he continues. “But the Order was… there was a very real pressure, there, to adhere to standards that many of us couldn’t keep, or couldn’t reach. A standard that the… Masters, themselves, did not keep. And the consequences…” 

He pauses, chewing on the thought, feeling the weight of the pain in his chest and focusing on that pain as it threatens to claw its way up his throat. He lets himself experience it, feels it consume him, and allows it to dissipate. 

Parja waits, reaching down for another tool as she works. 

“...they were severe,” he says. “They always spoke of support, of acceptance, of love. And yet, those who needed it the most---the ones who couldn’t grasp the force easily, or what they were asked to do---were denied it, and dismissed.”

Parja pauses in her ministrations to look at him. “Dismissed?”

“No longer able to become Jedi,” he answers, and then frowns. He corrects himself: “Sorry. No longer allowed to become Jedi. Instead, they were sent to work elsewhere, under the supervision of the Order.”

“Work?” she asks, tense. “They failed, and they weren’t sent home?” 

He feels a bitter smile infect his frown and doesn’t fight it. “Too dangerous, when touched by the force, to be let loose on the universe. And because we were all taken as young, young children---many didn’t know they could simply leave.”

He almost laughs. 

“Many,” he adds, “Even if they knew they could, had nothing to their name, and no way to contact the family they were taken from. We’re not allowed possessions, in the Order, and absolutely no contact with family. I still don’t know if mine are alive. I wouldn’t know how to contact them, if they were.”

A bitter anger runs under that thought. A hurt, like betrayal, in his heart---but he also understands. He wants to think, to believe, that his birth family had no choice---that they sent him to The Order for a better life. Many were taken because, no matter what, it guarantees a better life.

Or it did, before... before the end.

Parja sets down her tool, and shifts on her stool to look at him fully. 

“You have a family now,” she says. She looks down, to the ground, and back up at him as another crack of lightning, then thunder, booms outside. “But I’m sure if you asked Mereel…” 

“I don’t want to,” he says, firm. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to.” 

She purses her lips and nods, and doesn’t say whatever it is she’s thinking though he can see she’s thinking something. She’ll probably gnaw on it for a few days, and then blurt it out the next time he visits the shop, and…

And Bardan finds he’s perfectly happy with waiting until then. 

“I’m free of the manipulation,” he says, unable and unwilling to hold the bitterness from his tone. “Free from having the phantom of failure wielded as a whip. And free from simply accepting that the death of good men should not somehow weigh on my conscience.”

Free, he thinks, from having the threat of attachments being found out, used against him, to keep him isolated and placid and content. Complicit. 

Parja places a hand on the speeder beside her, and beckons him look at it. He rises from the chaise to join her. 

“This speeder,” she says as she gently pats the top edge of the dented, rusted metal, “once belonged to a well known racer in the underground circuits, in Nar Shaddaa.” 

“It’s a long way from Nar Shaddaa,” he says, surprised. 

She smiles at him. “This racer pushed this poor speeder beyond its limitations. Do you see this damage, here?” Her gloved hands trace the places where the metal curls outwards, as if burst from the inside out. “And here?” 

Bardan looks at the damage. “I do.”

“Sometimes,” she says, “when pushed too hard, too far, for too long---with no stops in between---the speeder will respond in any way it can to release the tension.” 

She doesn’t explain, and he doesn’t need her to. 

“The driver died,” she continues. “This speeder would have been left in a junk pile, if not for someone who saw its beauty, its real potential, under all its supposed failures, and rescued it. She brought it here, to me, and asked for me to restore it in whatever way I see fit.”

Parja, proud in her talents, in her ability, and her side projects, gently pats the speeder. “But I’m not fixing it up to race, because it was never meant to race. It was meant to ride, and to duck in and out between the trees.” 

And she looks at him. “And there are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.”

He looks at the speeder. 

There are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.

“Am I really helping,” he asks, “coming here, and lying on your couch while you work?”

“Yes. More than you know.” She reaches out, and gently takes his hand in hers. “More than you can know.” 

She squeezes his hand, and then lets him go.

He lingers, unsure, but stands after a moment passes and returns to the couch. He sits down, first, and watches her attention pull away from him to return to her project. He watches her begin her work, sensing it’ll be some time before she’ll want to talk again, and takes a moment to breathe. To think. To settle.

And then he lies back down, one hand behind his head and another on his chest, and watches the ceiling lights sway as the storm outside rages on.

[thedeviljudges]

shame shame it is my name ive been going through your harringrove tag all day and im just. completely fucked. choo choo the harringrove train has left the station you have a one way ticket to hell please enjoy the ride with some fine literature that will make you wish you had your very own cuddlebuddy while crying like a bitchbaby. please have some patience, i will be back shortly to tell you all about how you and these soft trashboys ruined my life! 1/10

SO FIRST YES YOU GOT ME INTO ZIAM. I can’t remember when but dear god ive been here for a long, long, looooong time. also can i please cry about your fics. because. i feel like they dont get enough love and im just!!! every time you write because your writing is just so?? idk?? im like “ah, noel wrote this. i CAN FEEL IT BECAUSE I GOT PUNCHED IN THE FEELS” and im gonna be superembarrassing but like i love you dude. you’re so fucking talented and it saddens me that all the work you put into ziam fics and drabbles never got the attention they deserved. like MIDNIGHT LIGHT. how freaking cute was that im just seriously Im gonna die ok i love it so much oh my goood the beginning when they met and Liam just replied with “okay” IM JUST. its so stupid cause there wasnt a lot of interaction between them at first but i just LOVED it?? like well done this made me feel like a 13yo also i love the way you describe it when liam smiles like i can see it happening in front of me and i get why zayn melts and falls for him every time. i have so much love for that fic you dont understand. am i gonna yell about my favorite ziam fics wHY YES I AM. We’re dreamers in castles made of sand (also i really like your titles btw) blew me away. I got chills and it didnt go the way i expected it to go, the usual boy has sex with a prostitute, catches feelings& saves them. i love that you didnt let that happen. Liam saved himself and im just so happy! caring and supporting zayn was amazing to see but the fact that liam did it on his own and THEN CAME BACK im weak i love it so much. ive already told you i love the under the rose universe. i cant even pick a favorite moment im just in awe of this entire serie. listen. i love liam and veronica with everything that i am and i would die for them. also. Vanilla sweet universe is just everything ok jfc.

okay. okay so i had to sit on this all day because i just. you’ve overwhelmed me, for real, lmao. like, i don’t really cry over messages, but this one? kinda got me good.

(and also, idk if you meant to send more, but i did only get the 6/10 so that’s what i’m replying to!!)

first off, lmaooo you’re hilarious as fuck. this message? as good as the one you sent the other day. i’ve reread it a few times, and i laugh at it each one.

but okayyy ok ok. i wasn’t expecting this lovefest, but i s2g, this is the sweetest. you’re not embarrassing, trust me!! i always love to know what people think of my fics. call me greedy, i guess, but i genuinely love to hear back from people, even if it is negative.

although uhhhhh, i love you???? like damn???? i mean, no lie. there’s definitely a few fics of mine from ziam that i wish took off more. i got comments on ao3 here and there and asks from time to time, but how i found out people liked my stuff was either through recs or casual discussions mutuals would send me because they just so happened upon it. i hate being that bitch that /wants/ to hear feedback because it sounds selfish, but like, some of those longer fics were so draining, and sometimes i got the feeling that me (and a few others tbqh) were just placeholder authors??? we were ~there for filler fics until…. well uh, lmao, other ones could finally put out.

ok. midnight light…. is one that i forgot about because lmao, that’s not one i’ve heard anyone ever talk about actually?? it might’ve gotten a few comments, but omfg. you saying that is really surprising???? i actually did love that one. kinda felt bad i didn’t make it longer or whatever, but it just made sense. i’m so glad you liked it, though!! but it’s definitely not stupid!!! that’s so wild that it makes you feel that way bc i get that way with fic too and omfg. i didn’t know people did about my stuff?? fuck. you’re way too kind.

ALSO LIAM’S SMILE. i tried to include that a lot because liam really does have the most beautiful smile. it’s so bashful and looks so genuinely happy and adorable and ahhhh.

about the dreamers fic…. gah. i love the concept i did with that, but when i look at it, honestly??? my writing is terrible???? omfg. i cringe at my old writing, i swear. but i think that fic is the most popular one. dunno why, but i’m so glad you liked the ending!! i don’t even think it was intentional to try to do something different. in all honesty, i don’t even know how i came up with the ending, lmao.

really, i’m just gonna keep thanking you over and over and over again.

fic titles… i love coming up with fic titles, and i’ll have you know that most of them are just song lyrics. i usually go for the most unusual lines in songs because they seem the most fitting? and what’s crazy is that when i hear it, i know immediately whether it’s a title or not. idk if that’s intuition, but to me, all fics are like children, and when you hear the title, you just know??? ok now who’s the embarrassing one, lmao.

under the rose - is my weakness, my soft spot. all born outta me trying to prove something to rude ass people tbh, lmao. wrote it out of spite even though i knew it wouldn’t be popular, and i just remember back in 2013 when ppl thought i was crazy as hell for loving veronica so much, and IM STILL GLAD i’m not alone in that.

vanilla sweet was also sorta born outta spite?? just in the sense that it didn’t have to be stereotypical abo that was written in the time (ie dubcon or more).

honestly, i can’t even believe you like all of these??? these were incredible messages to get, babe. like i said, you did make me tear up, and idk why you decided to stick around with my boring, bitchy ass tbh. i feel like is scare a lot of people off real damn quick, but i appreciate it so much. i really fucking do, and you’ve totally made more than just my day and night. i’ll legit be thinking about these for awhile now. fuck, i’ve talked your ear off too and yet i could wrote another 10 pages, i bet.

literally, THANK YOU SO MUCH for this and for giving my fics a chance. it really means the world to me, even after all this time. i appreciate it so much.

[rorykillmore]

okay i wanted to sneak in before dinner and post this next gift for @larkspear in case they needed something nice after getting back for the movies. they requested some post-denny au stuff for heather and veronica and i was tHRILLED bc post-denny aus are some of my favorite things to do (as evidenced by the fact that i tend to go on and on about them whenever i get the chance to write them). we’ve talked before about the cast going back to madeline’s world with her so that’s what i went with. DOUBLE the discourse.

so spear, i hope you’re having a great christmas because you more than deserve it. i know you’ve had a lot to work through this year and i’m glad you’ve had the space to get support and validation, and equally grateful that you’ve given those things to me whenever i’ve needed them. i feel like i can talk to you about p. much anything without worrying about being judged and like i was saying to jay... that’s pretty rare for me, and you really have become one of my best friends over this past year (thank GOD for homecoming!). anyway thank you so much for the memestreams and entertaining dctv liveblogs and wonderful rp dynamics -- and just being such a considerate and giving friend in general. nighttrap has done a lot to put me in a bit of a healthier place this year and i’ll always be grateful to you guys.

“If we’re tagging along with you guys while you fucking elope, we’d better be going somewhere nice.”

In all actuality, Heather is a bit less sure of this ‘let’s just say fuck everything and hop through a rift to another world’ idea than she pretends to be. It’s easy to act confident, angrily confident because what the fuck do they owe their world anyway, where Heather herself is dead and Veronica is dogged by maybe-not-so-metaphorical ghosts and all anyone’s ever done is screw them over, anyway.

Still. She’s not entirely sure how many times anyone has actually done anything like this before. It might be against some kind of weird, unspoken rifter code (but fuck that, too).

She tries not to be a little surprised when they mention their plan to the other Heathers, and Duke and McNamara decide they actually want to come along. Maybe Mac she can understand -- but somehow, even after all this time, she wasn’t expecting Duke to hate the idea of going back to Westerburg so vehemently.

They’ve all lost a lot, Heather supposes.

It’s just over a month ‘til graduation, so they all agree to wait until after then to try. Maybe it’s symbolic, or some shit. Mostly, it means that wherever they end up, they don’t have to do high school all over again.

“You think we should try Madeline’s world?”  Heather muses dubiously when Veronica makes her suggestion. 

Veronica shrugs, focusing on her locker -- they’re in the midst of end-of-the-year clean out.  “Seems like our best bet. I mean, we know people there, and at least it sounds... relatively normal.” 

She’s got a point, but Heather decides to be obnoxious just for the sake of it. She scrunches up her nose.  “But what if everyone there’s... like her?”

Veronica nudges her pointedly for her trouble, and she tries not to laugh.

“Isn’t she from California?” Behind them, Heather Duke is practically audibly rolling her eyes. “If we’re tagging along with you guys while you fucking elope, we’d better be going somewhere nice.”

Heather resists the urge to snipe back at her for the ‘eloping’ jab. She hates that it’s actually kind of funny.

“Is it okay if I ask Rachel to come with us?” Heather Mac asks, a bit apprehensively.  “She -- I don’t think she has anything very nice to go home to.”

Heather glances at Veronica, who nods carefully and says, “Okay, but don’t tell anyone else about this. Madeline says her friend can probably help us with all the... legal documentation and stuff, but the more people we bring through to literally show up out of thin air, the harder it’s gonna be.”

“I can’t believe we need someone to fake papers for us.” Heather turns to the others, smirking, as Veronica shuts her locker.  “This is so illegal.”

“Unless Madeline’s world is a lot weirder than we’re assuming, I kind of doubt there’s any specific law against hopping through a rift and pretending we’ve lived there all our lives...” Veronica points out, but it’s a lost cause -- McNamara looks vaguely worried, and Duke is already snickering. Heather rolls her eyes, but can’t help but smile as she takes Veronica by the hand and starts for the exit.

They’ll never have to see Clairbourne again. It’s a relief, and just a little bit sad.

Monterey is definitely a different scene than Sherwood and Beacon Heights both. If anything, it’s more Heather’s scene -- more chic, less cutesy, and there’s something about the air that she likes. She’s always loved the ocean, but she’s never lived near one her entire life (Ohio’s just about as far away from that as you can get).

On the surface, it’s not all that different from the last world they were in, in that it’s basically the same time period and geography. There’s just... less weird shit. Heather’s hardly going to miss the rifts or the fucking clowns in the slightest, but some of the other stuff? Seeing Finley and Casimir every day on their way to school, hearing about Ratchet’s latest superhero bullshit on the news, the underclassmen friends she made at Clairbourne? Maybe.

Still, the moment they arrive, that worry she knows has been weighing them all down - the ‘one of us could get pulled back to our world at any moment, and not all of us would survive that’ one - is gone. That alone, Heather thinks, makes all of this worthwhile.

“Celeste would probably think I’m completely nuts if she hadn’t been in that other world too, for a little while,” Madeline mutters to them when she returns to where she left them at a little cafe near the beach. Heather kind of thinks Madeline’s nuts anyway, but for once she bites her tongue. “But it’s all arranged. You’re college students studying abroad, or -- you will be in the fall. We just need to work out where you’re staying.”

It makes sense to have Veronica stay with Madeline, since they’re already close. Heather might’ve preferred to be nearby - she’s so used to rooming with Veronica at this point, after all - but Madeline’s house, while big, is hectic enough on its own with her own teenage daughter spending half her time there (and a younger daughter and husband to boot).

So Heather goes with one of Madeline’s best friends, Celeste. It’s a logical fit because Celeste is an attorney, and Heather is planning on going to school for pre-law.

Logical it might be, but the arrangement doesn’t make sense to her in so many other ways.

Celeste lives alone with two little boys who are energetic and mischievous enough to drive Heather up a wall if she spends too much time around them. Her husband, apparently, died pretty recently -- it’s got the whole community shaken up, and Heather doesn’t like to ask many questions about it. By now she knows a sensitive subject when she sees one.

Especially since there are certain things about Celeste that remind her of -- well.

They bond, eventually. It just takes a little while -- until Heather decides that Celeste is soft but... steely in a way not many people would probably recognize.

Just like Madeline and Celeste, Veronica and Heather see each other often -- which is good, because now Veronica is not only Heather’s best friend, but someone she’s supposed to be figuring out a dating life with (still feels like a minefield, at times, but a minefield that’s worth every tentative step). Veronica seems... like she’s happy where she is. Or -- like she could be, one day.  She helps out at Madeline’s community theater and bonds with Abigail and Chloe, and more and more these days, Heather thinks she’s starting to look less overshadowed.

Mac ends up with Madeline and Celeste’s third best friend, Jane, which is an arrangement Heather herself is dubious of at first (because Jane is what -- six or seven years older than them, at most, in spite of the fact that she has a little boy the same age as Chloe and the twins). But they seem to get along. Jane is chill enough to temper some of McNamara’s... McNamara-ness, and the relative simplicity of their day to day life seems to be something she takes to pretty well.

Duke’s staying with... well, actually, Heather’s not sure what anybody around here considers Renata Klein besides ‘an actual force of nature’. ‘Friend’ is probably accurate for all that she seems fiercely loyal to the others, in spite of how often her and Madeline seem to clash.  In some ways, Heather can kind of see the similarities between her and Duke -- and she begrudgingly means that as a compliment. Still, sometimes too many similarities aren’t a good thing. 

She’s wrong about that, too. If anything, they only make each other more unstoppable, and Amabella gets a kind of foster big sister who no bully of any age wants to mess with.

Rachel and Bonnie are basically the same artsy, serene person, as far as Heather can tell, so it makes sense that they end up together. Both effectively separated from The Discourse (as she and Veronica privately like to call it). Heather would envy her, except she herself has taken to this whole new life a little too well (and when has she ever gone out of her way to avoid conflict?).

It feels nice, on the days she allows it to. Instead of a clique, layered with power plays and subtle sabotage, they fall into sort of mirroring the circular structure of Madeline and her friends. Bound by -- well, what they’ve all been through, or whatever. Something stronger than Heather can put into words, even if she’d admit to it.

Maybe this, she thinks, is something she can trust to last.

“So, Renata’s organizing a fundraiser,” Madeline gripes one day while they’re out at the beach. They spend a lot of time there, these days -- all of them do, in varying combos, though today it’s just her, Celeste, Heather, Veronica, and Chloe and the twins.

Celeste lowers her sunglasses a fraction, so that her interest in Madeline’s gossip almost seems polite. It’s a skill that might be useful to learn, Heather thinks. “Another one?”

“Well, I don’t think anyone wants a repeat of -- last year.” Madeline finishes the statement kind of awkwardly, and Heather can’t help but exchange a brief glance with Veronica. The infamous Trivia Night. They both know Celeste’s husband died there, which is touchy enough by itself, but since it isn’t exactly the kind of thing either of them want to ask the women involved about, they have to rely on rumors instead.

And some of those rumors are wild.

“They’re talking about holding it on the beach, actually. Some kind of cookout thing?” Madeline continues. “And -- a talent show.”

“Oh dear.” Celeste sounds amused and doesn’t bother to match Madeline’s scandalized whisper. Until she sees the way Madeline’s looking at her.  “ -- You don’t mean -- we don’t have to participate, do we?”

Heather sits bolt upright from where she’s sunning herself. She watches Veronica’s half-smile drop.

“Well, I don’t see how we can get out of it. We’re her friends, how is it going to look if we don’t back her?”

“Hold on a hot second,” Heather can’t help cutting in.  “Do we have to participate?”

Madeline pauses, blinking at her.  “-- Oh, no. Of course not!” She smiles in a way Heather doesn’t entirely trust. “Well, I mean...”

“What?” Veronica asks suspiciously.

“It’s just, since Renata’s running the whole thing, I’m sure Heather’s going to be involved. Heather Duke, that is. I thought you girls might enjoy some... friendly competition.”

She’s definitely looking directly at Heather, now, and Heather feels her own eyes narrow. She and Duke are friends now - better friends than they ever were back at Westerburg - but hell if she doesn’t feel that familiar, unshakable urge to be the best rising up in her again. She hates that Madeline is right.

Veronica seems to have come to the same conclusion, because right at that moment she grabs Heather by the wrist. “We’ll think about it!” she says, rising and half-pulling Heather up with her.  “Wanna go for a walk, Heather?”

“What?” It’s so abrupt that Heather doesn’t quite register the meaningful look Veronica is giving her at first -- she’s too busy griping about being tugged around, and brushing the sand off her. Then she clears her throat. “Uh -- I guess. Whatever. We’ll be back.”

Madeline and Celeste nod understandingly, though they don’t seem particularly fooled -- but Heather’s happy to ignore that for the moment as she trudges past the kids (in the midst of building a very lopsided sandcastle) and after Veronica.

“Did you seriously just do that?” she demands once they’re far enough away from the others.

Veronica gives her an innocent look. “Do what?”

“Run an -- intervention before I could agree to the talent show thing!”

“Heather, that’s not what running an intervention is.”

“Whatever. You intervened.”

“Well... you were gonna sign up for a talent show just to one up Duke.” Veronica sideglances her with the very specific purpose of giving her a Look. Which is totally unfair, Heather reasons, because Veronica doesn’t know for a fact that --

“Holy shit.” Reason finally catches up to her thoughts. “You’re right. You saved my life.”

Veronica looks almost smug now. “Thaaat’s more like it.”

Heather could give her a nudge or kick some sand at her for that, but instead she takes the much more underhanded route of sidling up close and linking their arms. Veronica tries to roll her eyes, but she softens just a little.

The perfect time for Heather to push her luck.

“So that’s a ‘no’ to the Jingle Bell Rock number I was already choreographing in my head.”

Just as planned, Veronica fails to stifle a laugh.  “It’s fucking spring.”

“And?” Heather asks. “Are you telling me these people wouldn’t appreciate the Mean Girls reference regardless?”

They’ve both seen enough of modern high schools, by now, to get Heather’s point across. Veronica sucks the inside of her cheek briefly. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“No, you can’t.” Heather leans into her a little. “Especially since you’d look damn good in red.”

She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she thinks her own joke (well, half-joke) is funny, which makes Veronica roll her eyes -- but she’s also blushing a little. She looks away, and at first Heather thinks she’s pretending to ignore her, but then she notices that Veronica’s gaze has drifted out to the ocean.

“I’m... glad we decided to come here,” she says suddenly, and just like that, the situation’s a whole lot less funny. Heather slows up a little.

“It was a good idea,” she admits, feeling as though she should say something more. Veronica, unfortunately, has a talent for making her uncharacteristically sappy, but that doesn’t mean she’s always good at saying sappy things.  “...I’m glad you don’t ever have to go back home.”

The same goes for Duke and McNamara, really. Heather knows - or at least thinks - that they’d all be okay in the end. But she also knows there are some things people are better off not going back to.

“Yeah. Well,” Veronica says after a moment of silence, turning back to her. Heather loses track of whatever she was going to say at the affectionate, suddenly vulnerable way she looks at her. She thinks she knows what Veronica’s going to say before she says it.  “This is home, now.”

And it is.

[camorrsthorn]

Hi, I'm kinda new here, and so I mostly have just seen the art of your OCs? (Which is awesome, btw.) But I was wondering if you could give, like, a basic outline of who they are and maybe their universe? (Bc worldbuilding is ALWAYS cool.) Thanks! (And again, love your art

aaa thank you!! i have. a lot bear with me lmao but. i’m gonna put this under a cut because Oh Dang That’s Too Many

video game ocs: holy moley that’s a lot

tarris, relic, kharza gra-durza, serindil, riandil, vhesryn, saaji and zhakka are all from elder scrolls!! 

tarris is a bosmer thief/assassin who’s actually real bad at fighting and is probably half magpie, don’t wear jewelery near her she will Have It

relic is a bosmer vampire who is an asshole. he’s awful. he knows magic but mostly likes to Stab. he exists in the same world-state as tarris and kharza and probably a few others 

kharza is an orc warrior who’s like the only lawful good character i have, whoops. she sometimes turns into a werewolf and mauls people but that’s a minor character flaw. she’s a big gay

serindil is an altmer mage!! very very much a glass cannon. they were with the thalmor embassy in skyrim until they... sort of defected?? they’re still an ass tho

riandil is a bosmer scout!! he’s from eso so i’m not sure exactly how he fits into the world state, but he’s a big ball of sunshine. he likes very very bad puns and responding to altmer supremacy by acting real stupid until THEY look stupid. he’s great

vhesryn is a dunmer assassin but he’s also a big ol’ dick. he’s a vampire too but mostly a dick. his hobbies include being an asshole and stabbing people, also dancing

saaji is a khajiit thief and very pure good person. she;s good. she’ll steal your things but she’s good she’ll prolly give em back. really just wants a warm spot in the sun, very very tired of almer

zhakka is a redguard warrior and former pirate!! i love her. she scowls a lot and looks grumpy but she’s grinning inside just all the time. you know those people who say the most ridiculous funny shit with a totally stoic face?? that’s zhakka

spring and bishop are from fallout

spring washington is Soft. she’s a soft soft person. she likes plants and photography, but also she was her school’s boxing champion pre-war and won trophies for shooting, and likes to keep a switchblade on her at all times. met her husband when he had to drag her off some creep. she just wants to make the world a bit brighter!!

bishop is. bishop. he’s my courier and he’s??? the worst. he’s obnoxiously lucky and knows it, and very charming despite the amount of times he puts his foot directly in his mouth. he’s good at heart but also does what seems good/fun/cool at the time??? “hey bishop when is the last time you washed” “i dunno when did it last rain” “i don’t want to travel with you any more”

i have a whole lot of dragon age ocs bear with me

rasha tabris is Angry. i once described her as a wildfire in a very pretentious thing i didn’t post but it’s apt!! she stayed with the wardens because duncan was the reason she could kill vaughn, and the reason she wasn’t killed for it. she died fighting the archdemon because there was no way she was trusting some human, and died spitting and cursing

katia brosca’s main personality trait is Spite. people told her she could only be this this and this because casteless, so she did absolutely everything she could to prove them wrong. a lot of her loudness and bravado is a front to protect herself, but not all of it

hildr aeuducan’s middle name is duty. she does the job she’s got to do, and does it well. she doesn’t really Do sentiment?? and she’s never once but her own opinions over what’s best. she left behlen on the throne despite. everything

cian mahariel is Ridiculous. they spend half their time in trees despite having broken at least one bone on every part of their body falling out of them, and are Always Smiling

niketas surana lives on his nerves. his skills include flinching, stammering, going beet red if anybody looks at him for too long, and falling a little bit in love with anybody who’s nice to him. he’ll very very gladly swallow all his fear to protect people though, and repeatedly put himself between templars and scared younger mages while still in the tower. would die for jowan, frankly

vinnora lavellan is a sweetheart!! she just wants to be nice to everyone, and frankly deserves better than she got. she never wanted to be inquisitor, but figured she could at least use the position to help people who needed it, and tried to

noah shepard is my only real mass effect character worth talking about!! she’s a Delight and i love her. she’s paragon to her core, and goes out of her way to help people or offer a shoulder, but she’s absolutely not afraid to speak her mind or tell assholes to get fucked. she’s very very tired and full of guilt and regret. please let her sleep

d&d ocs!! are they ocs technically. i’m counting them i love them

dáithí lathlaeril is a half elven wild magic sorcerer and the only one i have actually played!! they’re half of a set of twins born to a high elven noblewoman and her human husband. they accidentally burned down their family library after overhearing their mother agree to essentially disinherit them, and have been an adventurer ever since. they have Lots of emotions always, and swing between “i’m inherently superior to all of you and also have cool magic” and “oh god i’m the worst i’m pathetic is my magic even good” and it’s terrible. please give them a hug. their name is pronounced DAH-hee

dáimhín lathlaeril is the other twin!! she left home to go be a bard but attracted an archfey with her singing, and wound up a warlock. still pretends to be a bard tho. she’s obnoxiously charming and knows it, and is WAY more relaxed and happy go lucky than their twin. she’s still pretty prissy tho. her name is pronounced like DAH-veen. also she’s not a girl, she’s nb!! like her twin. “finch that wouldn’t happen” haha what i can’t hear you

zeerith is a drow rogue!! he had just the worst life but is So Good at pretending he didn’t. what do you mean he’s almost certainly traumatised and emotionally messed up, he’s smiling, see?? trust him. he really really hates killing and would much rather talk his way out of trouble, but isn’t at all above hurting people to defend people?? also he’s very handsome and charming, focus on that. no don’t ask him if he’s ok. very very prone to talking someone to death if given half a chance

most of my actually original characters are from the same world!! it’s tag is “untitled a” because i don’t have a name for it yet lmao. there’s also a bunch of gods to go with these guys but i don’t even have names for them yet so lmao

fionn is prolly currently my most developed character from it. he’s an elf, which is fairly rare, and a magic user, which is rarer. he doesn’t care tho. he’s an ex-soldier who deserted after some very bad stuff happened, and he’s just trying to keep his head down. the god of luck and fate took a shine to him tho, so that’s not going too well. he uses his magic to make people think he’s much better at playing music than he is, but he could do Very cool things. he won’t tho

sabre is also an elf, but she’s a thief and very happy about it. she’s tiny and literally always ready to fight. she’ll fight anyone. she’ll Win against anyone. don’t fight sabre she jut doesn’t stop. she’s got a pretty strict Code tho, and won’t steal from anyone who can’t afford it, or fight anyone who can’t fight back. technically steals to give to the poor but also keeps a lot. she worked for that ill gotten gold!! she’s one of the two people who got “chosen” by the twin gods of the hunt, which she’s pretty stoked about. she’s got a tattoo honoring one of the twins

zarifa is the captain of an as-yet unnamed ship, and a totally legitimate merchant sailor. no pirates here absolutely not haha what’s that officer nope no illegitimate goods either, trust her. she’s got a good heart but also she’s pretty practical, and ensuring her own survival and the survival of her crew trumps morals every time. she’s the “chosen” of the god of the sea, which is an incredibly mixed bag

sylvie pike is zarifa’s first mate, but not nearly as professional. she likes to have fun, and insists on dragging zarifa with her. she’s got a much thicker accent than any other member of the crew, and makes it impenetrably thicker when she wants to be difficult. she’s not as good at overcoming her conscience as zarifa is

billie shaw is possibly my oldest current oc, holy shit. they’re kind of the odd job person aboard the ship, and also sing shanties and (badly) play the accordion. has a big big soft spot for kids. also hates shoes. what the fuck billie. put some boots on you ridiculous human being

sara tillman is possibly the only ordinary person on board the ship. she’s the ship’s doctor, despite being easily the youngest person aboard, and despite having only ever operated on her family’s farm prior to being hired. she’s got like ten siblings and loves all of them very very much

there’s also a handful of others from this universe who aren’t nearly as fleshed out yet, other than the gods, but they aren’t fleshed out!! “finch neither are any of the people you’ve talked about” [sweats]