#because i genuinely think this fic is far from good as well but i guess i had to post it to exorcise it or something

[omagpies]

No way! Another person who has spent way too much time on apex! Who's your main? I'm guessing BH but I don't want to assume. How did you feel about the BH/Fuse engagement? Do you have any heirlooms? Sorry, not very many people play apex on here.

Also, do you have any apex art? If not that's totally cool but I would love to see it!

you have activated my trap card!! many drawings ahead

my main is indeed bloodhound. i also whip out fuse, mirage, and to a lesser degree octane, but mostly i'm a one trick bloodhound. they were what got me into the game in the first place back in season 7 when i heard their 'i'm afraid of heights :(' voicelines (a cool hunter nonbinary character voiced by none other than allegra clark? sign me tf up), and even though i am Very Bad At Shooting and don't actually like battle royale-type games apex stayed my brainrot for over two years. the brainrot is definitely over now and these days i play it as a social thing, but that's how i acquired 2k+ hours lmao

also they released a magpiehound recolor called 'frosthaven' that i gleefully snatched up and have been wearing it ever since (ft the magpie holospray and the magpie mural on their latest map. i think they are catering to me specifically)

i am. truly Not Good. i am here just to clown and gossip and make poor life choices. my impulse control is too non existent for someone whose best skill is shooting a perfect outline around the enemy and not a bullet within

i had SO MUCH bloodhound art over on twitter good god. out of the following two drawings, the first one was bought out by allegra to sell as signed prints, and the second one was reposted onto apex's IG account, and in general this was the one time i genuinely had a blast on twitter interacting with all the devs and vas before everything went downhill both in respawn and on twitter lol. also i have to say, s10 and the whole White Raven thing fed me so. so so. SO well. the existential angst was incredible.

i participated in a couple of zines/projects as well! i have many thoughts about their canonical(!) respawn system and the resulting unimportance of death. adds to the existentialism and to bloodhound's religious themes

overall it was a very, very prolific period for me, and there are many pieces i'm still very happy with to this day

(^ the second to last one is a reference to the fusehound confession scene, and the last one is related to one of my fics, wooden bones (forest deity!bh au))

shipping!!! miragehound was my initial and most prominent ship, and i will never forgive respawn for not expanding on their backstory (their mothers worked together COME ON. they might have met as children! COME ON!!!!! i have a whole series exactly about the What Could Have Been)

their backstory with boone also fascinated me for a very long time, and my friends and i spent many a yap session dissing the dude until we stopped and thought, hey, what if he really was Just Some Guy who made mistakes, what if he wasn't evil, and that's what pulled me right back into the brainrot when i was already starting to slowly recover from it. boone now has a very elaborate backstory and lore and i hope to god respawn never puts him in the games the way we did because a) they don't GET him and b) i don't trust the fandom with him lmao. i'm super down to blabber about him though just say the word. he's everything to me, my big, sad, hairy man

we also invented in-game stuff for him. he had abilities and skins etc etc (the top row of skins is his titan pilot backstory + talos era + 'default' in-game skin)

this diptych still lives rent-free in my head, i think i really won with this one

where miragehound and boonehound flourished, mirageboonehound wasn't far behind! i wrote how it came to be and all. also Рorn. so much Рorn. seriously.

also this was the first time i redrew the twelfth night as my otp. the second one was mouthwashing

fusehound was an absolute delight to watch blossom, especially since we know it wasn't planned and just Kind Of Happened. i felt that lmao. characters be like that. i'm a bit sadge they shelved the whole talos plotline in favor of romance but at this point i gave up on expecting good lore from apex, especially after they fired herr frozenfroh. i didn't draw fusehound nearly as much, BUT i do have one fic that was basically a dream i had lol

honorable mention goes to revhound!! this is the ship that went really hard with artists and writers. deeply painful, deeply compelling, absolutely incredible. mindblowing angst and just as mindblowing рorn, together or separately. best shit. the one ship i didn't write for because compared to the fandom's behemoths i never felt like i'd be able to contribute anything meaningful lol, i just got to sit back and enjoy

bonus: as one of my friends eloquently put it, bh and their bhitches :)

i was going to put in more pictures but hit the 30 images limit!!! my twitter is now abandoned but if you scroll down just a little you can see all the stuff that didn't make it into this post.

apex and bloodhound also REALLY, REALLY got me writing. i came into the fandom already relatively warmed up after a 170k fire emblem fic, but i ended up writing 200k+ for miragehound, mirageboonehound, and fusehound combined. i was unstoppable. it was insane. i've linked some already but you can peep them all here. bloodhound's pov was especially fun to write for, purple prose my beloved

also you asked me about heirlooms! i'm a lucky motherfucker who managed to get one set of shards from the 500th box and another from just the random 0.4% chance. so i have bloodhound's and fuse's as they are my most played characters :)

[daughterofhecata]

so uh i've posted my first actual fic* since *checks notes* fucking july. someone be proud of me.

[*the writer's month double drabbles and the >1.5k ficlets don't count. and the single <1.5k ficlet doesn't count either because that was pretty much written in two (2) sittings with about a little thought as the other ficlets]

[greenwriterplaidbow]

Human Connection

Part II

Logan Howlett x Reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Inspired by Pandapetals’ memory loss fic (taken over all by thoughts since I read it) as well as the song We’ll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross. Trust there will be more parts.

Warnings: a combination of angst and fluff, suggested feminine reader (called Logan’s wife) but no true descriptions, special appearance from some of the Xmen as coworkers because I love them and they’re all alive and well (but they do not necessarily follow canon)

Logan swears you are trying to stress him into a heart attack. He’s certain that at this rate, he is going to go gray by next week. He woke up alone. His arm was draped across your empty side of the bed. By the cool temperature of your sheets he guessed you’d been out of bed for a while. He jumped out of bed, panicked. He hurried out of the bedroom, glancing into the empty office before making his way to the kitchen where he found you sitting on the dining table with a bowl of cereal. You left the lights off, allowing the soft glow of the sunrise to light the room. There was music softly playing from the radio.

“You’re up!” His tense shoulders dropped as he sighed and let himself relax. Logan felt better noticing that you seemed genuinely happy to see him again.

“Yeah, I’m up.” He took another deep breath to calm himself. Once he had stopped panicking he took in the image of you. Although you hadn’t changed clothes, he guessed you had already gotten ready for the day as your hair looked more styled and you looked more awake. You aren’t sitting where you normally did but you unknowingly aren’t far off. You sat with the same breakfast you’d normally eat on a work day, cereal with granola. Logan thought it was strange how some things didn’t change.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you to be awake before me. Just got scared for a second. How’d you sleep?”

“..Good. I had weird dreams but I guess that’s to be expected when you have brain damage.. I think I slept better because you were there.” You admitted sheepishly.

“And I couldn’t help noticing that you wear dog tags even while you sleep.. Is that where we met? The military?”

“No. We.. No, that’s not where we met. I’m glad I could help you sleep- And you remembered which cereal is yours, that’s something.”

“No? I just know what I like?”

“Ah.. Yeah. Duh.” Logan put his hands over his face as he sighed again. “I’m going to go get ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

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Logan washed up in the bathroom then went to get changed in the bedroom. When Logan came back a few minutes later, you were in the same place as promised but you had put away the cereal and placed your dishes in the dishwasher. He was wearing his unofficial uniform; a tank top under a flannel with jeans. You stood up and walked over as you saw him, going to pass him on your way to change into real clothes.

“Aw, and there goes your biceps” You say with an overdramatic pout to go with the mischief in your eyes. Your comment stopped him in the hall where he stood as he laughed at your words.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that! We’re married, I’m allowed to like the way you look.” Your face blushed pink at the slightest push back but, you were trying hard not to get flustered. He took a step closer to where you stood.

“I thought I was just a stranger right now? Now I get to go back to being your husband when I’m being objectified? Woww” His tone indicated that he was joking.

“Well legally- we are married, that doesn’t change with my memories. I just mention it because I assume you knew what you were getting into..” You took a step towards him but stayed close to the wall that was now behind you as you stood across from him.

“I did. But I usually don’t get complaints about covering up my arms so early in the day.. You are my wife, I’ll take it off if you want me to.” His voice dropped a little lower as he offered to remove his shirt. The warm pink blush quickly returned to your face. He laughed.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t know how much I missed being able to make you blush so easily.” He kissed your forehead before continuing into the kitchen. You stood there a moment before returning to your own task of going to the bedroom. You get changed and leave the room wearing loose clothes that you hope will irritate your stitches the least. A grey hoodie, with a symbol you didn’t recognize, over a t-shirt and dark sweatpants. When you re-enter the kitchen, Logan is in just his white tank top, flannel laying on the back of a chair. He sat in the chair across from where you sat minutes before him, reading more unbound papers while drinking coffee.

“You didn’t have to actually take it off-”

“Hm? Oh, I know. But now I know you’ll be lookin’ at me when I’m not wearing it.” And you were already blushing again.

“I probably won’t need it today anyways, it looks like it’ll be pretty nice today.” He was right, the sun was shining through a nearly cloudless sky. A contrast to yesterday’s gloom.

“Maybe we could go for a walk? At the hospital they said stuff like that is good for healing. You could show me the area more. If you want.”

“Sure, just let me know when you want to go. Speaking of healing, how are you feeling today?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” You said with a deadpan expression.

“Well.. Yeah.” He pictured your small car, crumpled around the front of a stupidly large truck. The driver had apparently been drinking when he ran the red light. He didn’t even slow down. Logan had seen the wreckage before he met you at the hospital. The amount of blood in your car scared him. He felt like the scent of iron followed him all the way to your post-op bedside.

“What time do you have work? Where do you work anyways? Wait, where do I work?”

“Hm?” He snapped out of it. “Uh we’re both teachers. And I have a sub until you’re better.” After he said it you felt dumb for asking. He must be grading student essays.

“Ahh. That’s why- yeah okay. So you must teach English.”

“History.”

“Oh. You make them write papers for history?” You said, sitting down at the head of the table, in the chair kitty corner to his.

“Yes, it’s a better way to make sure they actually understand the events we talk about in class.”

“Well what class do I teach? Do I also force such cruel punishments on students?” He rolled his eyes in fake annoyance and ignored your last question.

“Some of the science electives. Anatomy, microscopy and immunology, and chemistry this year. Pretty much whatever science class student’s sign up for is what you teach.”

“Hm. Which grades?”

“Any grade level can take your classes but it’s mostly sophomores and up. You’re kind of known for being a tough professor.. They like you as a person but you’re a little hard on them at times.” He smiled at you as he said it but you didn’t find anything he said worth smiling at.

You laid your head down on your arms as you tried to picture yourself as a highschool teacher. Teaching seemed like the furthest thing from your skills and interests. Logan went back to grading for a few minutes until you spoke up again, shifting the topic.

“You shouldn’t be taking that much time off. I’ll be okay. You should be with your class.”

“They’re good kids, they’ll be fine. You’re more important- and you shouldn’t be alone right now. One of our friends is going to drop off more assignments for me to grade in a day or two so I won’t get too behind on that.” You still felt guilty. Intentionally or not, you were isolating him from his coworkers and friends. As you thought of his friends a face popped into your mind.

“Which friend? The red headed doctor?”

“What? You- you remember Jean!?” Logan looked up, shocked.

“Yeah, that’s her name. Jean Grey, right? And she’s married to that tall dorky guy.. I don’t remember his name but I know he has a brother- Alex Summers I think.”

“You remember! Is there.. Anyone else you remember?”

“No.. sorry. I just remember their names and faces. Nothing else specific.. Scott! That’s what it is. He has blue eyes but no one ever sees them because he has to wear that visor.” A pang of jealousy hit Logan. Of course you remember Scott before him.

“What? How do you know that?”

“I don’t know. Someone told me I think. Hmm.. Yeah I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Huh.” Logan looked off, apparently lost in thought.

“Sorry- I think I cut you off. Which friend is bringing your papers?”

“Kurt Wagner. He offered to. He’s a good guy.” You nodded without lifting your head off your arms.

“You know, we could go pick up those papers. Everyone has been asking to see you, a lot of them visited you before you woke up. I’m sure they’d like to see that you’re doing well.”

“Umm, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.. It’s just going to be uncomfortable, all these people I don’t know are going to want to be sad and touchy and asking how I am and if I remember them and I’ll just have to tell them that I don’t and they’ll give me sad looks just like you do. I can barely take one of you, I don’t know how I’ll cope with a whole group giving me that look.”

“What look?” Your hand comes up to his forearms and starts tracing shapes as you sit up.

“Just the way you look at me everytime I say I don’t remember you.. You look like you’re made of sand and if I repeat what I said you might just disintegrate.”

“Yeah? Well I promise I won’t. Don’t worry about whatever I’m feeling, you just worry about getting better. We don’t have to see them, it was just an idea. For what it’s worth, they’d still want to see you. Even like this. Your student’s probably miss you too.”

You shrug.

“Just think about it, alright? Oh it’s 9 o’clock, did you take your meds yet?” You give him a look and smile.

“Yes, mom” He laughs and playfully nudges you with his arm.

“Well someone’s got to take care of you.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking care of you?”

“.. normally you do. More than I deserve sometimes. But right now you just need to worry about yourself.”

You sigh as his words do little to calm your worry for him.

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Eventually the two of you moved to the office. You spend several hours watching him grade at one of the desks. You pass the time by snooping in your stuff, reading, drawing, going on the internet. Always bringing your activity back to the second desk in the room, sitting across from Logan. It’s not until a while after lunch that you get bored enough to interrupt him.

“Do you want me to help you grade?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you though.”

“Alrightttt” You sigh out the word like you were disappointed.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just bored. Trying to find something productive I could do.”

“I can take a break, we could go for that walk now” You perk up at the idea of exploring.

“Yeah! Let’s do that!” Logan smiles at your excitement.

“Ok, I’ll finish this essay then we can go.”

“Woo! Alright, no rush.”

Within five minutes you’re getting your shoes on and heading out the door. You walk most of the way in silence. There wasn’t anything notable for him to point out to you. Logan walks next to you but is still definitely leading. The way you walked was cleared as if it was a trail that was walked often. It weaved through the woods around the neighborhood so you assumed it had to be walked by more than just you and Logan. There was a slight chill in the air that you could really feel when a breeze flowed through the trees. As it did you took the opportunity to grab Logan’s hand and cling slightly to his arm. He smiled down at you. He hated that you didn’t remember him but at least he got to watch you fall for him all over again.

“We should probably turn around here.”

“Wait, how long does the trail go this way?” Motioning towards the direction you had been walking.

“That’s another two miles that way, we’ve walked almost a half mile.”

“Come on, let’s just keep going this way. I feel fine and I want to see what’s this way-”

“Slow down, I don’t want you to over do it.”

“I won’t, I feel great! And increasing blood flow helps the healing process. I'd walk to Seattle if it meant I’d feel better sooner.”

“It only helps if you don’t pop your stitches or worse-”

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” You wave away his concerns, taking his arm again as you try to keep walking.

He gave in and let you pull him along until he catches up to where you are. You don’t make it more than 10 minutes before he feels your grip on his arm loosen. He looks over at you.

“You alright?” He says, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah. Just feel a little-” And you passed out.

You’re not out for more than a few seconds but it’s enough for him to decide you’re going home. Logan catches you and lowers you to the ground. He checks your pulse as you regain consciousness. Seeing that you’re at least alive, Logan scoops you up and starts carrying you back home. You put an arm around his back to feel secure.

“Sorry..”

“I know.”

“Mm you’re so strong” You blurted out, suddenly noticing how easy it looked for him.

“Thanks.”

“..I promise I’ll do better tomorrow, I’ll listen and I won’t push myself so hard.”

“Even if you do, I’ll still be here to carry you home.”

“I’m sorry I can probably walk on my own-”

“Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind, lifting you is a piece of cake.” He secretly loved the closeness that carrying you provided.

“You promise?”

“Promise. I could even do it one handed if I wasn’t scared of dropping you.”

“Okay.. I believe you.”

He carried you all the way back to the door before he let your feet touch the ground again. You both went inside and took off your shoes. The second yours were off he was picking you up again and carrying you up the stairs.

“Ah! You don’t have to-”

“You fainted, I don’t want to hear any complaining about how I take care of you.”

That was enough to quiet you until he set you down in bed.

“Thank youuu” You said with a sing-songy tone.

“You’re welcome. Just sleep for a while. If you need anything else, you know where to find me darlin.” You nod. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the pet name that slipped into the conversation unconsciously.

His broad frame hovers over you, hands on the bed on either side of you.

“You sure you're okay?” He whispered.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

A hand met his chest as you sat up to press a kiss to his cheek. His expression shifted from worried to heartbroken as you pulled away. He shifted to put his forehead against yours. You could feel his breath lightly on your lips. Finally, he wordlessly pulled away, the sorrowful look stayed on his face. Neither of you spoke up as he left the room.

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You awoke to the feeling of a large hand stroking your cheek. Curious, you stayed still. Your face felt cold as he disconnected from you and walked towards the door, closing it as he left. Your muscles still ached as you shifted to sit up and forced your eyes open. It was darker in the room than you expected. You rubbed your face and took a deep breath. You glanced to your nightstand to check the time only to find it obstructed. There was a big mug sitting on a potholder. Chopsticks lay on top of the rim. There was a note on the corner of the nightstand. You picked it up. The beautiful flowing calligraphy surprised you.

Don’t go arguing about how I didn’t have to make something for you, it’s just ramen, nothing fancy so I don’t want to hear any of your complaining later. I don’t want to wake you up so when you’re up, let me know if you want anything else or if it’s cold and I’ll heat it up. You should just be resting. Kurt is bringing over the papers for me later so don’t be startled if you hear talking. - Logan

You mentally read the note in his voice, adding the attitude you imagine he was giving you through the note. You rolled your eyes and picked up the warm mug.

You were halfway done with your food when you heard someone knock at the front door. Then you heard talking. Logan’s voice you recognized but the other man had a thick accent, German it sounded like. You listened to the two of them as they talked quietly down the hall. You couldn’t make out most of it but it sounded like Logan kept denying whatever request the other man made.

Curiosity got the better of you and despite Logan’s expressed wishes, you got out of bed and hesitantly opened the bedroom door to venture out to where they were talking. You saw the blue man first, his appearance admittedly surprised you. Logan had his back to you so the other man saw you before Logan heard you.

“There she is, how are you?” He pushed Logan aside to talk to you more directly.

“I’m alright.. Sorry- I don’t remember you quite yet, I’m not sure if Logan told you..”

“Ja, he did.” He stepped closer and put a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t pull away. “I am Kurt Wagner. We are good friends-” Logan cut him off.

“What happened to resting?”

“Eh, I can rest later. I wanted to see what you kept saying no to.”

“Well, I wanted to pray over you. Logan said you wouldn't want me to do it while you were asleep.”

“Yeah honestly that would be a little invasive, I’m not particularly religious.”

“Oh I know, you’re the only Xmen who still talks theology with me! Even after all this time. You usually don’t mind when I pray for you”

“Sure but it’s different when it’s in the same room as me and I’m asleep.” You shrugged.

“I suppose. We’re just worried about you. I’m glad I can tell the team you’re well.”

“Yeah go tell them that, you should go back to the mansion now.” He turned to you for a moment. “And you should go back to bed. Thank you again for the papers.”

“Ah alright. Gute nacht, mein freund.”

“Good night Kurt. It was good to meet you.. again I guess.” He gently pulled you in for a hug which you reciprocated. You smiled at him as you both pulled away.

He turned around and said something quietly to Logan. You took that as your signal to return to your room. You kept the light off, hoping the darkness would help the headache you felt coming on. You sat on the edge of the bed and ate your noodles. By the time Logan returned, your empty mug sat in the same spot it started in and you laid with your legs hanging off the bed.

“What’d you think?” You sat up as he asked.

“Of Kurt?” He nodded. “I like him. He seems nice. I feel like I liked him before. He feels.. Comfortable. I don’t know how to describe it.. Did you get the papers you wanted?”

“Wanted isn’t the word I’d use.. but yeah, I got them. He brought some of your assignments too if you feel up to grading. I’m sure I can find your answer key on your computer, you’re pretty organised.”

“Yeah at some point I’m sure I’ll want to. I don’t think I’d be able to focus enough to do it tonight though.”

“You don’t have to- You just seem bored so I thought you might like something to do.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I probably will when my headache goes away.”

“You’ve got a headache? I think you can take more pain meds pretty soon-”

“Two hours, I checked.”

“Ah. Sorry.” He finally moved to sit down on the bed next to you.

“I’ll live.”

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head.

“Not unless you can un-traumatize my brain” You said with a smile.

“Not last time I checked.” He pulled you in and kissed your temple. “I would if I could.”

“I know.” You leaned into him.

You stayed like that in his arms for a while. You moved back and angled yourself to see his face better. You looked into his eyes. Your hand reached up to his face and you lightly scratched at his scruff.

“You’re sweet.” His expression was soft as he looked at you. As you looked at him, a wave of emotions washed over you as you allowed yourself to remember your situation. Your own expression shifted suddenly from an appreciative look to an emotional one.

“I want to remember you, I do. I’m trying to but..” You gestured and shrugged as tears started to roll your face. “I got nothin’. I’m really sorry- I can see how hard this is for you and I don’t mean to be a problem. I’m trying not to be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. None of this is your fault. None of it. It kills me that you blame yourself. You’re not difficult or a problem or any of that nonsense. You’re my wife. In sickness and in health right? Even if you never remember me, even if you never remember us; I’m always going to be here for you.” You could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about forcing yourself to remember, I just want you to be healthy. You could have died that night.. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

You nod but look away.

“Maybe you don’t care if I remember, but I do. I hate feeling like this.”

“Yeah I know. I understand more than you know. Your memories will come back.”

“I’m glad you’re an optimist.”

“I’m not, usually that’s your role.”

“Well thanks for filling in.” You forced a small smile.

“Yeah I figured you were being sad and depressing enough for the both of us.” His smile was a little more genuine than yours. You rolled your eyes at him and nudged him with your arm.

“That’s one thing that surprised me.”

“What?”

“Just- The things that are different, the things that didn’t change. It's just.. I don’t know. You’re different.” You sniffled and grabbed two tissues from the box on your nightstand, handing one to Logan. You took a breath before speaking.

“Yeah well. Experiences shape who we are, right? And I have almost no memories. That changes a person. This is just who I was before you.. Like seeing a ghost I guess. It’s a good thing really. It means I’ve grown as a person. That’s what I’m going to tell myself at least.” You paused for a moment while deciding if you wanted to know the answer to your question.

“..Bad different?”

“..No. But I can’t lie to you.. I do miss the you who knows me.”

“I’m sure. Like I said. In a way, you’re mourning a loss.”

“Yeah.. Yeah..” He sighed quietly.

“I should get back to grading for a bit. If you want to go back to sleep, I can wake you when you have to take more meds.”

“No, I’ll sit with you. I don’t think I could sleep now anyways.”

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A few hours later you find yourselves in bed again. Tonight you stayed on your own side but his arm reached across your midsection. It was clear to you that he just needed the connection. He just needed to know you were there.

“You can come over here and cuddle with me, if you want. You don’t just have to keep your arm stretched out like that.. Seems uncomfortable.”

“It’s actually not as uncomfortable as it looks” His voice was half muffled by a pillow. “I will hold you again if you want me to, I’m not trying to avoid you. I just get hot. I’m not used to wearing this much to bed unless it’s winter.” You shifted to turn towards him more as it became a ‘real conversation.’

“Oh. You’re just wearing them for me?”

“Yeah, I figured it would make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s your bed too, do what makes you comfortable.. Um. just maybe don’t be completely naked.. Please.”

The tone of his voice told him he was amused at your request.

“Yes ma’am.”

You heard him shift in the darkness, saw his silhouette moving against dim light that slipped through the curtains. When he returned to your shared bed, you immediately felt his large arms pull you towards him. You were suddenly glad it was dark as you blushed feeling his bare flesh against you. Part of it felt scandalous. Part of it felt poetic. You were completely clothed; covered by soft, baggy, navy colored fabric. While he was nearly entirely exposed. He was completely vulnerable. In your mind the last few days have felt the opposite. You’re completely vulnerable to him. He knows things about you that you don’t. And yet, to you he’s a stranger; aside from what little you’ve found out about him. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t make up for years of marriage, and even before that, years of close friendship. Not in only a few days. Or you could see it from another way, he was emotionally open to you, in a way you couldn’t be with him. Try as you might, you couldn't make yourself love him. Not in the way he deserved. Not the way he loved you. That kind of love only came with time and the threat of losing it.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Tags: @kemi707 @klwrites @fluff-lover @a-leg-without-fear @aoi-targaryen @vofriviasblog @jupiter-sky @crypt1dcat @karencaribou

[p0orbaby]

mary earps jealous fic please

reader jealous and mary reassures her or mary jealous and opposite

Watch Your Step

warnings: alcohol consumption, just zero lack of girl code, oblivious mary?

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour so don’t judge me if it’s shockingly bad

word count: 981

-

You’re not insecure.

You’re not.

You swear.

But as you watched a leggy blonde make Mary laugh, a twinge of jealousy pricked at you.

You tried to brush off your unease, but being wedged between Mary and the wall you couldn't help but overhear snippets of their conversation.

"Mary, you've got the best sense of humor," the girl exclaimed, her laughter loud over the music of the bar.

You bite your lip, feigning interest in your own surroundings. How the leather of the booth stuck to your skin. The bitter taste of your martini. Deep down, you knew Mary was just being friendly, but the irrational pangs of jealousy lingered.

Mary glanced over her shoulder to find you tracing your finger around the rim of your class. "Hey, love, come join in. We were just talking about the game last night”

Suppressing the knot in your stomach, you turned alight in your seat with a smile. "Yeah, it was intense”

The person, still oblivious to your internal struggle, continued their peacocking with Mary. "You should've seen her saves, absolutely incredible”

You nodded, forcing yourself to engage. "Hard not to miss them when you're part of her back line”

The blonde shoots you a quick glance, seemingly registering your presence for the first time. “Oh, you play too?”

“Yeah, I’m on the team,” you replied, your tone dry and blunt and not unnoticed by your girlfriend.

Mary caught the tension in your response and subtly shifted the conversation, attempting to include you more. “We’ve got quite the dynamic in defense. Keeps the goals at bay, right, love?”

You nodded, managing a tight smile, your eyes briefly locking with Mary’s in silent communication. The blonde, sensing the shift, excused herself to grab another round of drinks, leaving you alone with Mary in the dimly lit booth.

Mary turned towards you, concern etched on her face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good. I just didn’t realise you were sharing your brilliant sense of humor with the whole bar”

“Hey, what’s really going on?”

Mary is far from stupid. And you’d been together far too long to think she’d get caught up in your lie.

You took a deep breath, appreciating Mary’s genuine concern. “Yeah, just… I guess I got all up in my own head for a moment. It’s silly, really”

She eyed you, unconvinced by your answer.

“You do realise she’s flirting with you, right?” You say.

Mary’s expression shifted, a combination of realisation and concern etched across her features. “You think so?”

Edit, Mary was far from stupid, sober.

“I’m going to pretend you’ve not noticed the way she looks at you because it’s dark in here, okay?”

If you had it your way, you’d get up and leave. But you knew better than to try and outmuscle your way past her.

“Baby”

“Don’t, Mary” you say, your throat tight with emotion as you train your gaze back onto your drink.

“Look at me, love” she instructs, a hand coming up to your chin to turn your head to her. Though your eyes don’t meet hers at first. “Y/N”

Your name rolled off her tongue, a soft plea in the dimly lit booth.

You give in and look at her when her thumb strokes the spot just above your cheek.

“I don’t like that people are fighting for your attention,” you admit. “They talk and talk like I’m not even here. It pisses me off”

Mary’s eyebrows raise, and she chuckles softly. “Well, sorry for being so damn popular. Didn’t realize it bothered you that much.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms petulantly. “It does bother me. A lot actually”

“Okay, okay,” Mary concedes, though her smirk tells you she’s still very much amused by the situation. “So, what’s the plan? Stay here and be grumpy, or should we find a place where it’s just us?”

“I don’t know” you sulk.

“No? Shall I decide?”

All you give her is a shrug.

She hums lightly as your lack of cooperation, her eyes sliding from you to her drink, wrapping her hand around the glass, and finishes the rest of it off in one large gulp.

“Home it is then” she says, sliding out of the booth and holding her hand out for you to take.

Though as soon as you’re upright, she doesn’t lead the way to the exit like you expect her to. She pulls your body flush against hers, curls a hand around the back of your neck and guides your lips to hers.

It was a dirty little thing. All tongue and teeth and the lingering taste of her gin martini. It caught you off guard enough that your hands stayed suspended by your sides, whilst hers grabbed at your waist and angled your head to give herself better access to you.

Only when she finally feels you melt against her is when she pulls away, wiping her mouth dry as she does.

“I’m yours. You’ll do well to remember that”

If she didn’t grab a hold of your hand again you’re sure you would’ve collapsed. Her words causing your legs to turn to jelly and your head to spin with something other than alcohol.

Mary doesn’t mess around pulling you towards the exit after that. Either she’d had enough of your tantrum, or she has plans for the two of you at home. Her reasoning didn’t matter in the end, when a figure stood out amongst the blurry bodies you were being dragged past.

It was quite poetic really. How time slowed as you locked eyes with her. The way her face was lit with the blue and red lights from the decorative neon signs littered around the bar, spotlighting the disdain she had for you.

Her scowl was returned with your triumphant smirk.

You weren’t insecure.

You just didn't like people coming after what was yours.

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[lovelybucky1]

Bad Guys Win

Kinktober Day 13- Knife Kink

part two of "nice guys finish last" but can be read as standalone fic

warnings: AFAB!reader, horror movies, referenced violence, knife play, dirty talk, under negotiated kink, dom/sub dynamics, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

Ever since that night Anakin got you high and confessed his desire for you, you've been spending a lot more time together. You're still just friends, but now your relationship has a lot more benefits than it did prior.

Tonight Anakin invited you over because he had the house to himself. It was far too casual to be a date, but he got pizza delivered and there was cold beer on the table, so at least he made an effort.

You had no delusions about why you were there. It's a hookup between friends. Good friends, sure. Ones who care about each other very deeply, but it was still just sex.

That's why you were confused when Anakin grabbed your arm and led you down the stairs to the basement. It's technically unfinished, but it was a large area rug, a couch, and a TV hooked up with your brother's PlayStation.

He told you it was movie night and rifled through the shelf of movie cases. He chose Friday the 13th because it was fitting for the day. You fondly rolled your eyes at his joke and joined him on the couch once he got the DVD in the player.

He pressed up against your side on the couch and pulled the classic yawn move and put his arm around you. It was a bit odd to cuddle with Anakin like this, but you know him well enough that the closeness wasn't uncomfortable. The closeness did, however, allow him to feel every twitch of your body.

You jump when Jason pops out of no where, jostling Anakin.

"You okay?" he asks, chuckling.

You scoff. "I'm fine."

"Are you scared? Don't worry, your big brother will protect you," he jokes.

You elbow him in the ribs. "Don't call yourself that, freak."

Anakin just laughs and turns his attention back to the movie.

When it gets to the final chase scene, you're squirming with anxiety. You know it's just a movie, but the suspense gets you to. Anakin looks down at you with a smirk on his lips.

"Would you fuck him?" Anakin asks.

Your head snaps to the side, looking at him with furrowed brows. "Jason?"

"Yeah," Anakin says.

"You mean the crazy killer with the knife?"

Anakin adjusts his position so he can see you better. "Yeah. I mean like, you don't have to think he's hot. But if it was me, would you fuck me?"

What a weird fucking question. You can't tell if he's genuinely curious or if he's fishing for some kind of compliment.

"I guess," you shrug.

"If I had the mask and the knife?"

"Yes, Anakin," you sigh, getting annoyed that he's talking over the climax of the movie.

"Would you like it if I chased you?" he asks, his voice suddenly taking on a different tone. "Would you be my final girl?"

You raise your eyebrow at him. "Is this a sex thing?" you ask.

"Yeah," he smirks. "Think about it. You'd play the little, innocent helpless victim and I'd be the big bad killer. Maybe you got wrapped up in a relationship with a guy who's a bad influence nothin' but trouble," he says as he leans closer to you. "He brings you right to me and I have to have you. I get him out of the way first, and after that, you're all mine."

You lean back as Anakin advance, but when the back of your head hits the couch, you realize you have no where else left to go. Your heart begins to race in his chest as his eyes look over you hungrily. You can't deny that you're getting a little excited despite not knowing what Anakin is up to.

Suddenly, Anakin shifts. He leans up a bit and reaches behind him, searching for something in his back pocket. He reveals a small silver pocket knife that glints in the light from the screen.

He flips the blade of the knife up and you can see the sharp silhouette in the dark. It's only about three inches long, nothing like Jason's, but this one is real.

"I've got you now," he smirks.

The arm around your shoulder turns from comforting to restraining. He's holding you firmly in place by your shoulder with his other hand being occupied by the knife.

"You're crazy," you breathe.

"You want me to stop?" Anakin asks, dropping the knife for a moment.

You consider, but you're open to trying new things and this is obviously something that gets Anakin going.

"No," you say. "Just don't kill me."

Anakin grins, his white teeth glowing in the dark. He raises the knife again and lets the tip of the blade catch on the fabric of your shirt.

"I'm not gonna kill you, you're too special. I'm gonna keep you for myself."

Anakin is now leaning over top of you, blocking your view of the TV. His hand holds your shoulder firmly and his knee is resting on the cushion between your legs. You're trapped, but you don't want to get away.

Anakin tips your chin up with the flat of the knife, making you look at him. He tilts his head condescendingly and looks at you with pity.

"You're lucky I'm the one who got you. Some of the other guys aren't so generous. They like to see pretty things like you bleed dry, but I prefer to keep 'em wet," he says.

You're unclear of the story that goes along with this little fantasy, but you suppose that's not necessary to play the role of the helpless victim.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you ask, using a higher pitched voice to play up the desperation.

Anakin seems elated at your participation in his game. "Because I saw you squirmin' during the movie. This shit turns you on, huh?"

You whine when he shakes you. "No it doesn't," you say. "I was scared."

Anakin hums, not believing you. "Maybe you're more of the Ghostface type then. Would you fuck him?"

Suddenly you feel too shy to maintain eye contact with Anakin. You don't know how he read you like that, but he's right. You've always had a thing for Ghostface. Not the killing, but the voice and that flirty tone he used.

"Yeah, you fucking would," Anakin grins. "So that's your type, huh? I can do that for you, baby."

Anakin has never called you baby before and it does something to you. The tenderness of the pet name combined with the sharp metal waving in your face makes for a confusing mixture of desire in your abdomen.

Before your mind can catch up with your body to realize what's happening, Anakin has you on your back on the floor. He's kneeling over you, straddling your torso. In this position, the side of his face is lit by the TV and he looks hotter than ever. The manic grin on his lips, the lust in his eyes, the line of his throat.

"Aren't you gonna try to run?" he asks. When you shake your head no, he laughs. "Some final girl you are. Just handing yourself over to the bad guy to do whatever he pleases with you."

Anakin tosses the knife on the couch, then grabs the waistband of your sweatpants and panties and pulls them down together. You lift your hips to help him get them off and once you're bare, he slots himself between your legs and hooks them over his shoulders.

"And bad guys like me love ruining pretty things like you," he smirks wickedly.

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[cuubism]

Can I pressure you to work on the 'having a job sucks ass' math AU fic?

yeah 😂 i started working on it when i was annoyed with my job. which is always

here's a snippet from earlier in the fic, because i think the later part i'm working on won't make a ton of sense out of context

[ make me work on one of my fics if you want ]

-

Dream shuts his laptop as Hob approaches. Oh, yeah. He was definitely waiting for Hob, specifically. Hob is getting the sense that he’s in trouble. And he’s not stupid. It’s not hard to guess what has Dream upset.

“Look,” he starts, “don’t even—”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts. Yep, that’s the trouble tone, the one Hob used to get when he did shit like giving himself a concussion playing pick up football on the quad. “It is ten p.m.”

“I own a watch too, Dream,” Hob says tiredly. Does Dream think he wants to be working this late? He’s just trying to stay employed.

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. And Hob knows him well enough, can read him well enough to recognize that what’s underneath the annoyance is concern. But what exactly does Dream expect him to do about it?

Hob sits down—more like collapses—into the armchair diagonal to where Dream is on the couch. God, what he really wants is to just fucking face plant into bed, not deal with this.

Christ. When did he start thinking about talking to Dream as dealing with?

Then again, this is less talking to Dream and more arguing with Dream, and he fucking hates doing that.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s far away, alright?” he argues, though it sounds more like a whine. “It’s not like I can teleport.”

“It is not acceptable that they keep you so late,” Dream says. Then his tone softens. “I worry over your level of exhaustion. That is not even mentioning the commute.”

“Honestly, the commute’s not the worst part,” Hob says. “Gives me more time to get stuff done. Or fall asleep.”

Dream gives him a flat look. “Precisely.”

“I don’t want to hear judgment about work ethic from you of all people,” Hob snaps. God, he hates arguing with Dream, he hates it. It’s not like when they bicker. And it’s not like arguing with anyone else. The thought that Dream is upset with him is genuinely distressing.

“I think I of all people am uniquely qualified to give it,” Dream says.

He’s not wrong. Dream is a workaholic if ever there was one. It’s something Hob’s had to talk to him about in the past. Frequently, in the past, Hob was the one who was better about it.

It’s just that having this job is a level of relentless he couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

Hob can’t just quit though, even if he is overworked. It’s a good job, career-wise, and it pays really well, and he wants Dream to be able to keep his post-doc position without worrying about the salary because Dream is just quite frankly not cut out for anything where he isn’t able to work independently at least ninety percent of the time and Hob doesn’t want to see him suffer, and he wants them to be able to buy a house someday—

“Look,” he says, before Dream can suggest that he actually quit or something, “Dream, we’re making fucking bank, okay?”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “We are?”

“Yeah, we’re married, or did you forget?”

“It’s your money.”

“The joint bank account says otherwise. Half of it is yours.”

Dream frowns, then gets a wicked look in his eye. Oh no. “Does that entitle me to half of your suffering as well? Do I get half a say in whether it continues?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Are you going to watch me suffer half your exhaustion and do nothing about it?” Dream challenges, steamrolling right over him. He’s impossible to argue with when he really gets going. And great, now he’s employing that look. That pleading look that he knows Hob can’t say no to, eyes wide and helpless. “Will you leave me to my agonies?”

“Alright,” Hob says, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Enough. Stop joking around.”

“I’m quite serious. I don’t wish to see you suffer.” He crosses the room, kneels in front of Hob’s chair, and takes Hob’s hands, bringing them down from his face. “Your unintended comparison was more apt than you realize. When you prosper, I prosper. When you suffer, so equally do I.”

“Should have been a fucking poet instead of a mathematician, Dream,” Hob says. It shouldn’t come out as bitter as it does.

Except— “Maths is poetry,” he says, echoing it just as Dream says it, too. Hob had known he would.

It makes him smile, that he can predict Dream like that.

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Fic Title if I had one:

A little piece of me in every body

a one shot

The door opened gently on one of the days he’d preferred silence. Normally, the silence unnerves him, irritates him even, but he feels far too tired to entertain himself with meaningless tunes and jokes.

“Airplane?”

He hums, not looking up from his paperwork, there’s only one person who ever calls him that, and Shen Qingqiu was the one person he didn’t mind listening to on those types of days. He thinks it’s because it’s comforting to be around someone he hadn’t made up in his head. It makes him feel real.

He felt irritated by his king a few times he’d portaled into his office. Eventually, Shang Qinghua had started to make up a mood chart—thing, to which Mobei—Jun had taken note of and respected his boundaries.

Even his martial siblings had noticed which sort of surprised him, he had assumed that they didn’t really care.

He hears some shuffling from wood clinking along wood and soon, the sound of paper flipping every few minutes.

“I’ve noticed something from Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu murmured after a while of quiet.

Shang Qinghua continues reading.

“He’s… well, sensitive sometimes. And clingy and hyperactive.”

“Mn… well, the clingy part might be my fault,” He giggled slightly, “I did advise him to be sticky in order to face your love.”

A deep sigh makes itself known, he knows the man is doing it for dramatic purposes. So he snickers before retuning his focus.

. . .

“Did you project yourself onto him?”

“Don’t all authors do?” He replies genuinely. It earns him an agreeing snort.

“Most authors do,” Shen Qingqiu amended quietly, “but this entire world… feels more like a projection of you more than any other novel.”

Shang Qinghua stops in his tracks, lifting his brush away from the paper, making sure the ink doesn’t ruin the paper, still, he doesn’t say anything.

He hid his eyes under his bangs.

“In most novels, there’s a person of every archetype with each person having a wildly different backstory.”

“My novel has that.” Shang Qinghua muttered.

“I’m getting to that.” He retorted.

“Okay??”

“It’s just that… the backstories of your characters feels like it’s overlapping.”

“Are you critiquing my bad writing again?? I’m not in the mood..”He frowned.

Shen Qingqiu shot him a dry look, “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that there’s a lot story beats that just… looks like a pattern. Parts of the story are so incredibly specific that it makes me think that… this was a part of you that you believed in. Even if 50% of the book was based on popular tropes that is.”

“Okay. And?” He asked, unimpressed, his mood declining the more he spoke. Goodness he thought he could’ve had a break today. He guessed not.

Shen Qinghua looks up at the sound of the other standing up, a weird look present on his face.

“Most of your characters, the main ones at least, have a fear of being abandoned.” He comes closer to Shang Qinghua’s table. “Do you fear that too, Airplane shooting towards the sky?”

“I think that you’re trying to rile me up on purpose,” he growled lowly, trying not to show that he had been affected by what the other man had said. He didn’t really notice. It was kind of unintentional, but now that he’d given him a bit of evidence, he couldn’t stop his mind from whirling with thoughts.

“Yue Qingyuan,” Shen Qingqiu started after a long time of having a staring contest, “was terrified of losing Shen Jiu, to the point thatwhen the man had hated him, despised him and scorned him, he never defended himself because he thought he deserved it. And even if Shen Jiu had no love left for him, Yue Qingyuan was fine with it as long as Shen Jiu stayed.”

“Mm.”

“And as an opposite, Shen Jiu was so incredibly terrified of being abandoned again, he decides to make sure no one could get close to him so that he wouldn’t be abandoned. So that he wouldn’t feel that sinking disappointment and pain when a promise made by a loved one has been broken.”

He wishes he could say that it hadn’t sounded familiar. The longer Shen Qingqiu talked, the more he sank in his chair trying not to tear up.

He wanted to ask why. Why he was torturing Shang Qinghua with this information. He tried not to think of his parents. Of his highschool group mates.

“Mobei—jun with parents who neglected him, someone who would let you hit him so that you wouldn’t ever leave his side ever again. You said that he was so desperate—“

“Okay!? So what??” He finally snapped, getting tired of these questions, and on such a bad day too, he thought the two of their were close friends dammit.

“Airplane.” Shen Qingqiu hissed, “tell me the truth here.”

“What!?” He demanded.

“How much of this was intentional and how much was a reflection of your own life?”

“Why? So you can make fun of me!? Critique my oh so tragic backstory? Tell me, ‘wow he’s such a whiny ass bitch for—“

Shen Qingqiu squeezed his hand out of nowhere, startling him so hard that his mind went blank. “Because you’ve done a lot to help me, so I want to help you.”

“S—So it’s a debt now!?” He scowled, his defenses building itself up very quickly, (channeling his inner shenjiu amirite) trying to push Shen Qingqiu’s hand away, but to no avail, the man was firm in his hold.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you like one of my family, idiot.”

Shang Qinghua sniffled “Evil, you are.”

“Mhm.” The bastard hummed disinterestedly.

Note: sqq’s been trying to approach him for weeks, that’s probably why SQH’s in a bad mood, cuz why is sqq trying to therapise him or something, it should be his job, listening to other people and then doing the work

“I guess— I guess we can start with Zhangmen—shixiong’s part.” He whispered hours later when they’re both on the couch, Shang Qinghua’s head laying on Shen Qingqiu’s lap.

Shen Qing—no, Shen Yuan nodded.

“Obviously I don’t have a super depressing backstory like he does,” He started with a dry laugh, his gaze heavy and sad.

“I’m just... a people pleaser like Zhangmen—shixiong. Unable to say no, especially when it comes to paperwork. I guess it started when my parents started fighting when I was younger. Elementary school, I think? It was subtle. Maybe. I—I don’t remember.”

“My mom was the more emotional one. Had a short temper for all of my childhood. And… my dad was calmer, but just as temperamental.”

He thinks about when he was writing an outline about Yue Qingyuan’s and Shen Jiu’s verbal fights with each other, Yue Qi’s guilt for not being able to do enough even though he had tried. Even though it wasn’t his fault that he’d been isolated for so long without proper encouragement.

Maybe this is where Airplane had split parts of him.

He remembers the time after writing the draft, writing out all of his pent up emotions into his characters, he remembers feeling exhausted. At the time, he had thought it was solely because of the word count. But maybe it’d been because he’d been losing his heart all along.

“Mama was passive aggressive and Baba couldn’t care less. When I turned 13, no one was happy. So I tried to be what they wanted to be, I guess.”

He remembers a few chapters where Lou Binghe had met the parents of some of his wives and how they’d hated his personality. How he’d switched up a more than a few times to make them happy, and for what? In the end, most of his wives had been unhappy anyway. Enraged at her parents that he had to fake his personality to gain their approval. Sometimes it ended badly, sometimes it ended good.

Decades after writing those plots, he thinks now that maybe it’s not just a trope anymore. He thinks he can place himself into the spot of the wife. Trying to please the unpleasable.

“Sometimes it worked and they were happy with me. Mama would buy me desserts I liked, lecture me fondly and gives me a big hug. Baba would actually come hang out with me for once, promise he’ll come back after the divorce and then leave.”

Shen Jiu’s tendency to hide behind a wall of barbed wire. The man was like a rose bush with the spikiest thorns. And Yue Qi was a gardener with no gloves. He’d been waiting for years. Desperately hoping that he hadn’t been abandoned.

“When I turned 20, I saw some picture on the internet. Baba had a new family and he didn’t even come to tell me.” Shang Qinghua finally let out a sob, the first time ever admitting it to anyone.

“It—it’s not like I had a bad life, but—but it sucked being the child stuck in between, so I just gave up.”

Shen Qingqiu lifted Shang Qinghua by the shoulders and wrapped him in a warm embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Mm.” Shang Qinghua sniffled.

—

“For parts of Mobei—Jun’s story I guess I just knew a guy who lashed out a lot. I mean, I was never the type to physically mean, so.” He shrugged, “i don’t know what state I was when I was writing him.”

“My friend didn’t have good parents, had a shitty uncle, I felt bad for using his story. But… he was so quiet, he never told anyone what he was feeling and in the end, I was feeling rage for him. When I said he was created as my ideal romantic partner. I guess it was because I never really knew a healthy relationship up close to write about? That’s why a lot of the wives seemed flat, I guess. Haha, you— you were right about the projection.

“What happened to your friend?”

Shang Qinghua shrugged.

“Became an overseas student I think? I remember seeing his face on the news once so he probably got all popular and got forgot about me. Think he was studying law or accounting.”

—

“I based Liu Qingge and his sister over that friend too actually.”

Shen Qingqiu blinks in surprise when Shang Qinghua has appeared during his lunch break.

“Remember?”

“Ah, yeah, how so?”

—

“Though he hated their parents, him and his sister was super close, kept in close contact always. He was a good big brother. He told me stories about her a few times.”

“So the Xiao Liu…based off of your friends sister?”

“Vaguely.”

—

“How bout you?” Shang qinghua tilted his head.

Shen Qingqiu smiled sadly, “I had two sisters and an older brother.”

“I’m sorry. It must be lonely.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t trigger the choking hazard.”

Both of them laugh at the dark humour.

—

Funnily enough I don’t have any head canons about SY’s family. I guess I like thinking that his eldest bro has a little bit Shen Jiu’s snarky ness and mood temperaments. So he’s a little defensive and a little protective.

And the Youngest sister also loved stories just like him

Youngest sister wanted to be just like Shen yuan, all smart, sassy, and kind

[graysparrowao3]

2024 Writing Year in Review

Thank you @darkurgetrash for the tag! What a nice way to round of the year and usher in creativity for the new one. Some no pressure tags and an open invitation <3 @lizziemajestic @captainsigge @lostinforestbound @velocitross @alpydk

Words posted (on AO3, not including Tumblr posts): 156,191

Words unposted: Between the 4 WIPs ongoing, the total words unposted within drafts currently is 7,903. Huh. Not as much as I'd have guessed. Tragically, it appears I do have to actually write the damn things as they appear to not be writing themselves.

Total word count: 223,513

Fandoms: Baldur’s Gate 3. Specifically Rolan, Cal, & Lia and Rugan/Aradin centered, with a smattering of other people's Tavs/Durges and their love interests.

Highest Kudos: The Night at Last Light Inn, a Rolan/m!Tav one shot.

Highest One-Shot Hits: Also The Night at Last Light Inn lol. People like to see Rolan having a good time. It was also posted at the beginning of the year at a time with more activity in general.

New things I tried: The Rugan/Aradin stuff was genuinely supposed to be a one shot where I tried writing something far more angsty and explicit than I'd ever done before. I really enjoyed it, but did not like leaving angst without exploring the underlying root of destructive and painful behaviors and emotions and finding a way to resolve it. Knowing what I do irl, this tracks. Based on the characters I thought it might not be received well, so I'm very grateful to everyone who gave it a try and saw what I was trying to do with it and gave me the confidence to keep going, including the encouraging feedback from @octoberskiies @threerattsinatrenchcoat @fangbanger3000 @lizziemajestic @vera-king-hrfl

@crowwolf @faerie-with-a-knife @forget-me-maybe @lemonsrosesandlavender @benicemurphy amongst others <3 Without community it wouldn't exist at all.

And now I'm in so deep I can't see the light any more. Hooray!

Fic I spent the most time on: Technically the one that's been sitting unfinished since the start of the year is What if...Everything Went Wrong, but though The Northern Bastards is technically a series, it's been pretty all-consuming my life lately so I think it has to win.

Fic I spent the least time on: Probably Brew, love? It was just an idea that gave me a chuckle so I threw it out quickly, but I still think it's a fun little thing.

Favourite thing I wrote: The first half of the year it was The Elturian Prodigy, which is the Rolan, Cal, & Lia fic in my heart. I took some space from it after disheartening feedback as though I always want to grow this fic stuff is something I do because it brings me joy, so for this present moment it's How To Keep a Man and Lose a Devil, my eternal thanks to @crowwolf for the suggestion to write it, I cannot wait to get the rest of it out it's turned into a real passion project!

Favourite fics I read this year: I tried to fit as many as possible during the recent BG3 fic celebration event all month, (see the BG3KudosCember posts for fics and tags!) and still have so many to read, and even that feels still woefully inadequate. Cannot believe there is so much creativity and fun and talent out there that I took so long to discover.

Writing goals for 2025:

Don't stop. Don't give up.

Get ongoing works as completed as possible.

Have more patience. Slow down and listen when you know it doesn't quite feel as you want it to be.

Believe in yourself. It's not too late.

New works for 2025: I'm hoping no new fandom works until I'm more complete with the ones I have ongoing. We'll see lol.

Thank you for all the amazing, creative experiences, and hope the next year brings what everyone needs from it. Happy new year! 🎉✨

[corishadowfang]

2025 Writing Goals

...Did I do one of these last year?? I...genuinely can't remember. But! I'm doing one this year--mostly to organize my own thoughts, haha, but I guess also to give people some updates, if anyone's interested in that?

But, uh, 2024 was...a year. The long and the short of it is: I am very burnt out. Most of that is due to my job, but other things have factored into it, too. (There were. So many animal emergencies this past year.) Because of that, I'm going to try to tailor my goals to be...a bit gentler. In theory.

As for the individual stories...

The Age of Fairytales (And Other Assorted Myths)

This is...probably officially going on hiatus, unfortunately. I don't particularly want it to, but I think it probably needs to. I've been struggling to write chapters a lot more than expected, and have been stressed about getting things out in a timely fashion, which is. Not particularly how I want to interact with fandom, and I don't want the story to suffer because of it. Some of this I think is due to the writing style (the myths specifically, which are different from my normal style), but most of it is from the aforementioned burnout. I don't think I was actually ready to have a regularly updated fic again, even if I thought I was (How was three months not enough time?? has been running circles around my head.), and probably should've stuck with my original plan of trying to write everything out, and then starting to post it.

That said, there's a reason it's going on hiatus, and isn't cancelled or anything, and it's because I still really like the idea. So for the moment, it might be going on the backburner, but hopefully I'll be able to bring it out and do more with it in the future.

(Also, like. Feel free to ask me about any lore stuff? Because I really, really want to talk about it, I'm just currently finding it difficult to put it into story format.

...I suppose I could also just make a lot of general worldbuilding posts in the meantime, too, which would be. Significantly easier. ...I'll have to see on that one.)

On My Heart

I really want to get back to working on this one; it's probably going to be my main "traditional" story. That said, I don't have a set goal for this; basically, I just want to make "decent progress" on it, haha. I'm going to try and take it easy and hopefully get at least some content that I'm happy with! (The beginning I already have, at least, feels pretty solid; now I just have to build onto that.)

One-Shots

I have four one-shots that have been sitting half-completed in my documents that I'd really like to finish at some point, which are:

coda: A Fallen Stars one-shot, covering the first year after the end of the story.

Children of Ozymandias: An AU where the Union Leaders (plus Player and Elrena) all remain together after the fall of Daybreak Town, examined through the eyes of people who don't have much relation to Keyblade wielders.

Touch of Midas: Hoder character study.

Ghosts of All We've Known: Ven-centric story looking at his connection to Scala, his buried memories of Daybreak Town, and his complicated thoughts about Eraqus and Xehanort and their past in Scala.

Of these, "Ghosts of All We've Known" is the one I most want to complete; I really like both the idea and what I've written so far, so hopefully I'll be able to finish that one this year, at least. "coda" also has a pretty good chance of being completed, just because, like...that's what I tend to work on when I'm feeling stressed, haha. So we'll see which of those two gets finished first!

(I would like to finish the other two sometime, as well, but...we'll stick with easy goals for now, and see how I'm feeling once those are done.)

And, uh...those are basically my plans for this year! I'm going to try very hard to just...kind of take things a bit easier. Keyword: try.

[ohwolfling]

So I re-read your "Gale gets a bj" fic, because it's one of my favorite things, and I was wondering... do you think Gale immediately starts finding it easier to let Tav do things for him/to him in bed, or does it take a while, with maybe some or a lot of protesting/fussing until he can relax and enjoy it? And I guess the same question out of bed as well: when does he let himself be taken care of by someone other than Tara?

First, thank you so much for reading and rereading. I'm glad it resonates. 💖

What I think is so appealing about any relationship dynamic in Baldur's Gate 3 is that inherently these people have to lean on one another. You have to be open enough to say when you need to rest, when your personal shit will heighten danger or offer a boon. You eat together. You camp together. And when you add romance to that... it's romance born of your worst circumstances so to some extent your worst self. So in little ways, Gale (& everyone) are forced into this sort of communal openness.

I think that a Gale who gets to go on and live a life, especially with a partner he trusts, is probably thrilled by trust. It's scary but it's a but it's an adrenaline rush. You're dealing with that buzzy, chaotic feeling of being in love, the confusing cocktail of emotions after several near death experiences, and you keep doing this Big NoNo- WANTING, TRUSTING- but instead of certain doom you just get your needs met or you compromise or even if you get a no you get to live and read a book and make pasta or whatever.

So I think that by the time Gale and Tav are building a deeper relationship or even an entire life together some of the MANY walls he has up as Wizard of Waterdeep™️ and Mystra's Chosen™️ are down for Tav. They might pop up in unexpected places - you don't know your triggers until they trigger you- but most of the time Gale is open to being Gale.

Here's my idea of that timeline, results may vary depending on your Tav or your interpretation of Gale, but ya know:

1-3 months post danger of knee-jerk "anything you need? Is this good? No but I can make this a celestial four way, are you sure?" And because Gale thought he was gonna ctrl alt del after that first time with Tav, he accepts the let's bone normal because I want YOU thing and so is comfortable accepting it each time. His acts of service extend far past the bedroom so I imagine this time period probably has a lot of panic attacks or just so worked up he's vibrating about like... bringing breakfast in bed, trying to make EVERY DINNER a romantic dinner, stuff like that.

Performance giving sex god Gale is a thing he actually enjoys but I really think that goes on for A WHILE. I don't think that stops until Tav stops it (the choice I made for the fic) or some other big thing occurs that flips the switch in his brain into, "oh, we're just... we're together and no one is leaving over a bad mood or a bad day." Theres definitely space here too for potential breaks or break ups honestly because in having no boundaries he might accidentally disrespect his partner's boundaries or start shutting down himself without realizing it because ultimately one way relationships make him miserable... but he doesn't know anything else.

But outside of that, if he has a partner who will communicate with him and meet him where he is, if he has wizard therapy, if he has the tools and support system to unpack the abusive god marriage he escaped, I don't think he's someone who fusses or protests. It is very clear (to me at least) that Gale's people pleasing, performing, and chasing of greatness were maladaptive coping mechanisms born from a boy who genuinely wanted to care for people and animals and loves entertaining people and loves learning. Gale is so interesting because his flaws aren't the opposite of him. He's very much himself. His traits just mutated to navigate wizard academia, Waterdhavian politics, & an abusive relationship he was groomed into through all of it, from childhood. If pleasing and teasing him makes his partner happy, that's ultimately his goal.

I'll say too that while I think Gale's default in a mortal relationship would be a kind of submission I am very pro Soft Dom Gale. I don't think Gale would have any framework in the timeline of the game to consider that sex can be a fluid give and take, that domination doesn't need to be godhood or invented orgasm heaven, that the dynamics of a relationship and the existence of love will remain unchanged or even strengthened by that sort of exploration sexually. With Mystra, intimacy is a CHALLENGE. A test. She teased him with a bigger world of magic, a space and a home only she could get to, and I think a common misread is that he wanted to dominate her... but if he talks to the mirror in the little hidden wizard workshop about his desires his true desire and being home, in his tower, and it being a safe haven for him and a partner. Gale wanted equality. Gale wanted to take her home or else become worthy of her home.

That was A LOT but I have so many thoughts about Gale!!!

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

So I'm personally a fan of fics where the characters react to their show/game/book/etc, and how they react to the things they never would have otherwise seen. What im saying is, In what ways do you think ratio would react to seeing aventurine in that last update? Seeing his past cutscenes that got shown, his conversations with his future self and seeing Aventurine's child form as well. Because theres so much there that ratio never would have gotten this perspective on otherwise and I have to wonder how hed feel about it. He probably already guessed that Aventurine had a rough life since he knows he used to be a slave, but thats different from seeing it first hand in his memories and to hear him basically admit to himself that hes tired, wishes that fate didnt curse him with his blessing, and really just wants to die. Like theres so much to explore here, especially from the view of Ratio who genuinely wants to help humanity seeing this

Oh that's a good question! The first thing that comes to my mind is that the more Aventurine expresses his desire to die, the more Ratio would be stressing out about the possibility that he might forget to open his note, that Aventurine might never know that someone did care. And he would be beyond relieved once Acheron does remind Aventurine to read it.

As for him witnessing Aventurine's past, I think that after seeing everything he went through, he would feel kind of guilty for not realizing that the power of the Harmony would put him back through all those bad memories and for not being there for him as he slowly fell apart (even though Ratio staying away and pretending he didn't care was part of Aventurine's plan). At the same time, he would also be impressed by Aventurine's resilience, by how he managed to make it out alive despite all the odds that were pitted against him. It would confirm what Ratio already suspected: that Aventurine is far more clever than anyone gives him credit for.

Most of all, I think Ratio would be dying to find a way to reach out to him, even in a situation he knows it isn't logically possible, because he sure cares so much for Aventurine, though he might not be the greatest at expressing it. I can also see him scribbling on his tablet as he writes down everything he should say/do the next time he sees Aventurine, because the last thing he wants is to screw it up and to make Aventurine feel even worse about himself.

(Oh, and after seeing all that, he would be furious at Sunday for the psychological torture he put Aventurine through)

I'm sure there would be many more things to say about his reactions, but this is what first came to me after reading your ask! And once again, thanks for sharing your thoughts about them with me 😊

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Grumbo enjoyers! I've posted a new fic! It's a steampunk boatem au that currently lacks Impulse as he hasn't joined the team yet. He will show up later on.

Also, if you like Scar, he has a rather important role in this one, and will have that in the future

You can either read it here or on Ao3

Ready to Leap

With a grunt, Mumbo took his seat in the grand circle of the  theater, and looked over at Iskall. He hadn't been to the theater in a good while, it was just too expensive for him nowadays, and unlike what people seemed to believe, being an inventor in their current climate wasn't particularly profitable. 

Not when the big companies were selling similar products at a cheaper price, pumping out patents at twice the rate that he could on his own. Sure, they weren't as good or as developed, but that was never the focus of corporations these days – profit was the only thing on their mind.

Not to mention they were notoriously willing to steal ideas, or hire inventors and then leave them in the dust the moment that the work was complete. Something that independent inventors didn't do. They all had too much pride in their own work, Mumbo included. 

"So, who's this friend you'd like to introduce me to?" Mumbo asked curiously, folding his hands in his lap. 

Iskall smiled back at him. The two of them had been collaborators for a good while now, and Iskall had recently mentioned that there was a business opportunity they'd been offered that might be more fitting for Mumbo. They'd said they had to turn it down because their wedding date was coming up. Apparently, it involved a lot of travel and they preferred to be able to return home to Stress at the end of the day. Mumbo could understand that, though he had no such reservations. Maybe that’s why Iskall thought to recommend him. 

"You'll see,” they said ominously. “But first, let us enjoy this performance. It's free after all." 

Mumbo nodded in response. "Alright." 

Then, the lights in the audience dipped and the music began to play, something jazzy and upbeat, easily fitting for a cabaret, or a burlesque performance. Wait, was that what they were here to see? 

"Wait, Iskall, is this a bru-" Mumbo was about to ask, but was interrupted by Iskall hushing him. 

"Shh, it's starting!" They hissed, and Mumbo had no choice but to turn his attention to the stage as the curtains opened. 

From behind red, velvet drapery  stepped a person dressed in a gorgeous pink gown, covered in glittering rhinestones. Their blonde hair looked like gold, shimmering in the stage lights. 

Immediately, Mumbo knew who it was. It was someone he hadn't expected to ever see again, much less in this scenario. Actually, seeing him in this scenario might be the last place Mumbo would have ever guessed.

"Grian?" He whispered, surprised to see his long lost friend.  

Wide-eyed and disbelieving, he turned to look at Iskall next to him, and despite the darkness, Mumbo was certain that he could see them grinning.

~

"What did you think?" Iskall asked as the pair of them settled in at the bar during the interval, handing Mumbo a glass of champagne that was already paid for by whoever had invited them. 

Mumbo took the glass, sipping the sparkling drink. "Well, considering I've never seen a burlesque performance before-" He began, as he felt his cheeks heat up. "I'd say this one is jolly good so far.." 

Iskall smiled knowingly back at him. "You’re sure it’s just a good performance? You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a lot."

"I mean- wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Mumbo asked, feeling flustered. 

"Oh, nothing! I just think you might be a tad bit partial." They responded with a shrug. 

"Iskall, that was ages ago. I genuinely-"

"Ah, good people, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find someone in this crowd," a tall man said, effectively interrupting their conversation.  

He wore a top hat and a well tailored suit, one which put Mumbo's well-worn suit to shame. It was the nicer one out of the two he owned - the other one was patched up, and had a few stains from grease and oil. He wore it on the daily, determined to look as put together as he could, but… well, it’s not like he could afford much more.

"Scar!" Iskall said, immediately heading over to him, greeting him with a half hug.

Scar. Now that was a name Mumbo had heard before. "Scar? Scar Goodtimes? This is the friend you wanted to introduce me to? The one with the business opportunity?" Mumbo asked, feeling tricked. 

Scar Goodtimes was a rather well known conman, known for tricking people, and making them loose a lot of money. 

"The one and only!" Scar replied, tipping his hat in Mumbo’s direction. "It seems that my reputation precedes me!" He smiled, something wide and confident, the type that could fool you into believing almost anything. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mumbo whispered into Iskall's ear as discreetly as he could, the room too loud for Scar to hear. 

"I'm sure that you'll like the offer," Iskall replied, whispering as well. It was said with such conviction that Mumbo almost wanted to believe them.

Almost.

Scar just leaned on his cane as he watched the two of them talk amongst themselves, impressively unphased by the whole display. 

"Well,” he nodded matter-of-factly, “Why don’t you tell me when you're done whispering secrets, and I'll show you to the dressing room so that we can discuss this properly!"

"Ah- don't worry, we're done. Lead the way!" Iskall cheered. 

Mumbo was about to protest, but as the other two began to walk away, he had no choice but to follow. 

This almost certainly would end up as a catastrophe. 

~

"What did you think of the show?" Scar asked when they were in the dressing room. 

The walls were red, with a big vanity mirror on one side, outlined in lights bright enough to illuminate the whole room. On racks around the room, costumes were hanging, each of them extraordinary and some bedazzled, and one of the walls was covered in a variety of masks, some simple and others intricately painted. 

"It was wonderful," Iskall replied politely, and Mumbo nodded in agreement. He didn't have much more to add. 

"That warms my heart, Grian sure is an extraordinary performer," Scar replied, and headed over to a table in the corner of the room. "Whiskey, anyone?" He asked, beginning to pour some for himself in a lowball glass. 

"Yes, please," Iskall said. 

"Uh, yes. Thank you," Mumbo agreed as well. 

"Ice?" Scar gestured towards the ice bucket with the glass. "Feel free to take a seat as well, no need to stand up."

"Oh! Thank you. Yeah, I'd like some," Iskall replied, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the room that had a small table in front. 

Mumbo sat down in another one, sinking down into the soft cushion. "I'd prefer it neat, actually," He said with a nervous chuckle. 

Scar didn’t seem to notice, laughing good-heartedly at Mumbo’s request. "Oh, so do I! I can already tell that we're going to become very good friends indeed." He placed the glasses in front of them with a flourish, before taking his own and sitting down as well. "Now, Mumbo, I have a proposal-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Grian suddenly burst into the dressing room, his costume in his arms, dressed in a floor length robe. 

"God, my legs are killing me!" He exclaimed, dropping the costume on the vanity table. He bent down and began to undo his heels. "I suppose the price I pay, I chose to do this, but God! High heels sure are a pain to wear! I swear, next time I'm just gonna wear work boots instead. It'll ruin the aesthetic, but I'm so tired of heels!" He complained, throwing his shoes on top of the costume before spinning around to face the rest of the room. "Anyway, hi Scar!" 

He hadn't seemed to fully notice the guests yet, or he simply didn't care. He marched over to Scar and placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. 

Mumbo tried his best to ignore the sting of jealousy that shot through him at that. 

"Hello, my star," Scar replied, smiling at Grian. "We've got guests." He gestured to the other two with a smirk. 

Grian looked almost bashful as he turned away from Scar, acknowledging his guests for the first time since entering the room. "Oh, hi! I'm-" 

He stopped when he saw Mumbo, eyes widening in recognition. Then, his gaze flickered to Iskall, and Mumbo watched on as Grian visibly paled. It wasn't a surprise that he took longer to recognise Iskall than Mumbo -- after all, Mumbo practically looked the same, but Iskall had gained scars and a bionic eye in the time that had passed -- but he couldn't deny wishing that Grian's eyes had lingered on him for longer.

"Hi," Mumbo greeted awkwardly, whiskey glass in his hand. 

The air in the room was slightly stuffy and uncomfortable, and Mumbo felt his grip tightening under the strange atmosphere. It was quiet, awkward, until Iskall finally pointed at Scar and Grian, bursting out with, "Forgive me for being impolite, but are you two-?" 

They let the others fill the silence, and Mumbo was suddenly slightly tempted to chuck his drink in their face. 

Thankfully, Scar only laughed. "Together?" He shook his head. 

"Goodness, no," Grian laughed as well. "No, no. Not at all." He headed over to the chair in front of the vanity mirror. "We're just friends, nothing more. Besides, he's basically my boss, it would make it a bit awkward if we were together." He began to remove the makeup he was wearing as he spoke, wiping at his eyes with professional efficiency. 

Mumbo couldn't deny the wave of relief he felt when they denied being in a relationship. 

"Oh, but I'm a good boss, aren't I?" Scar asked, slightly teasingly as he smiled at Grian. 

Grian shrugged. "The best. Never had a better boss." He replied sarcastically, removing his earrings and necklace, placing them in an ornate box. "Though, I must say, you earn most of those points by paying well." 

Scar shook his head, smiling fondly. "Anyway, back to business," he returned his attention to Iskall and Mumbo. "Now, we unfortunately don't have much time to talk, so here's the deal." He said, his tone shifting into something business-like and serious. 

It was a stark contrast to his previous easygoing, silly and happy demeanour, and Mumbo found himself caught a little off-guard. It was frightening almost, how quickly he could change personality. 

Scar continued, "I need someone who's good with technology, gadgets and such. From what I know, you two are some of the best in this city, and I'd love to employ one of you." 

Grian let out a mock offended gasp. "You need someone better than me? What a shocker," He was now standing up, robe dropped on the floor as he began to dress himself. 

Even if Mumbo tried, he was only listening half heartedly to what Scar said, far too much attention stuck on Grian dressing. Though, it wasn't for the reason one might believe. 

No, he was stuck staring at two scars on Grian's back, right where his wings were supposed to be. What had happened to them? What had happened to him? Why hadn't Mumbo heard anything from him until now? 

No one else seemed put off by those raised pink lines, continuing on like Mumbo’s world wasn’t spinning on its axis.

"Grian, I love you, but you're God awful at anything that isn't explosives, and even those are questionable at best," Scar joked, rolling his eyes. 

Grian crossed his arms as he turned around. "How dare you? They're top tier, thank you very much. You could never." He saw Mumbo staring, and winked at him.

Mumbo quickly averted his eyes, feeling a blush spread over his face. He returned his attention to Scar.

Scar let out a chuckle, sliding back into his showman persona with ease. "You're right, I couldn't most certainly couldn’t. Which is why I need to employ one of our lovely guests!" 

It was fascinating to see the shift in personality. It was like flipping a light switch, the difference between them was day and night. Mumbo couldn't help but to find himself slightly entranced by the man, he wanted to know what made Scar tick. 

"If I say yes – I’m not saying that I will, but if I do – what will that mean for me?" He asked, sipping some of his whiskey. It was very high quality, the taste full-bodied and smooth, with the deep and smokey tone Mumbo enjoyed. It couldn't have been cheap. 

"Well, you'd be employed within my company full time, and paid quite handsomely for all of your hard work. You'd have a permanent place to stay, and complete access to any and all materials that you could need for your projects. I'm more than willing to invest in you, I know that you’re experts in your field.” Scar scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “Plus, truth be told, I'm a bit desperate for someone who can get the job done!" 

The list of benefits was impressive, but – well, Mumbo had worked for himself for so long. The idea of working under a parent company, one of the very things he’s hated in the industry for so long, was certainly an uneasy thought.

Mumbo took a moment to mull  it over, leaning back in his armchair as he ran through Scar’s promises in his mind. "What's the catch?" 

Scar sighed. "I figured you'd ask that, you’re a smart man, after all." He took a long sip of his own whiskey, before admitting, "You see, Mumbo, what we're doing isn't exactly legal."

Grian laughed, whether at the words or Mumbo’s shocked face, the man wasn’t sure. 

"Ha! Not exactly legal is an understatement, it's straight up illegal,” Grian smirked. “Speaking of which, we have to hurry up. Time’s running out." He worked on buttoning his shirt quickly, nudging Scar with his elbow. "Scar, come on, get changed." 

"Alright, alright. Calm down, mister!" Scar stood up and began to change clothes as well, though he just replaced his jacket with a burgundy one instead of a black one, and switched his waistcoat for an identical green piece. 

"I'm so sorry to cut this short, but we're in a bit of a rush," Scar explained, as he took off his hat. "You wouldn't mind giving me that hat box?" He pointed at a hatbox on the shelf beside Iskall. 

"Sure." Iskall replied with a shrug, doing as they were asked and passing the box over. "Here."

"Ah, thank you." He took out a burgundy hat that perfectly matched his waistcoat and his jacket, bringing the outfit together into another gorgeous combination that – quite frankly – Mumbo found himself jealous of. He was so caught up in wishing that he too could own such a fine suit, that he jumped as Scar addressed him. 

"So, what do you say, Mr. Jumbo?" 

Mumbo was suddenly made aware that he never introduced himself.He wondered if perhaps Iskall had told Scar his name? Or maybe Scar had done his own research to make sure he knew who he would be offering a job?

"I-"

Then, the door flung open, and a woman was stood in the doorway. 

"Scar! Grian! We have to go!” Grian's younger sister, Pearl, yelled her wings wide open behind her. “The engine is running, the cops have shown up, and the guests have figured out that this event wasn't free." 

"Dang it!" Grian exclaimed, speeding up his movements. 

"Oh whoops!" Scar began to move quickly too, stuffing seemingly random things into a bag placed on the floor. "We'll be right outside in a second, just stay in the corridor and keep watch, okay?"

"Got it!" Pearl replied and disappeared. 

Mumbo hadn't seen her in ages either, as she had vanished at the same time Grian had. What had happened to the two of them? Why did she still have her wings intact, whilst Grian didn't? 

"Grian, pack your stuff, we have to go." Scar yelled, picking up the bottle of whiskey from the table. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Grian shouted back, frantically putting his things away. 

"Wait, what did she mean not free?" Mumbo asked, only then registering what Pearl had said. "Did you know about this?" He asked Iskall. 

Iskall nodded. "I did, but it actually was free for us. Don’t worry about it, Mumbo." 

"They're right." Scar said as he tossed a shoe over his shoulder, digging through a pile of clothes. "It was free for you, but no one else."

Mumbo turned back to Scar with a questioning look. 

"You see-" Scar stood up straight, staring at Mumbo as he spoke. "This whole thing was a set up." 

"What?" Mumbo asked. 

Scar shrugged, instantly snapping out of his serious attention to the discussion, continuing to dart around the room, somehow calm despite the pace he was moving at. "Basically, we invited the socialites-"

"-said that the event was free-" Grian continued. 

"-got them all to show up-" Scar said. 

"-and whilst the performance was happening-" Grian snapped his briefcase closed.

"-Pearl and some people we hired, robbed their vaults at the bank." Scar finished, finally closing his bag as well and hauling it over his shoulder with a grunt.

"I'm leaving, see you on the zeppelin, Scar." Grian said, who was now standing in the doorway, fully dressed with his briefcase in hand. 

"Good, I'll be right behind you." Scar replied, smiling at him. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get to speak more, Mumbo. I've missed you." Grian said to Mumbo.

Mumbo looked at him, wanting to say something. "Grian, I-" 

But it was too late, Grian had already turned tail and sprinted away, the doorway now empty.

"Well, I'm really am sorry we had to end the meeting like this, for what it’s worth. But time is ticking and if I don't leave, I'll end up in jail. Which I'd rather avoid, considering that they haven't caught me yet." Scar said, grabbing his cane and placing it beneath his arm. "Pleasure doing business with you, shame we didn't get the time to come to an agreement." 

Mumbo felt his heart pounding in his chest as Scar spun on his heel, making his way towards the door just as quickly as Grian had. It had been a good offer, he needed the money, his business was bound to fail, and he could really use access to more materials. That, and he had missed Grian a lot, he- 

He stood up, not giving his decision any more thought. 

"Wait!" Mumbo yelled to Scar, effectively stopping him dead in his tracks. 

Scar turned around, something expectant on his features. "Yes?" He replied with a charming smile. 

"I'll take the offer." Mumbo replied. He knew that it was risky, but- it just didn’t feel right to let him leave like this. He needed to see Grian again, to talk to him properly, just like old times.

"Amazing!" Scar exclaimed cheerfully. "Better get a wiggle on then, we have to dash! Just go up the stairs to the roof, we'll try to wait for you. Say goodbye to Iskall, but don't take too long." He stepped out of the room. "Pearl, let's go!" He yelled down the corridor, before running off as well, Pearl following closely behind. 

Mumbo breathed in, his hands shaking where they hung at his sides, and turned to face Iskall. "I- I guess this is goodbye then." 

Iskall stood up as well. "Seems like it," they said, pulling Mumbo into a tight hug. "Stay safe."

Mumbo laughed, hugging back. "I will." He promised. 

They only stayed like that for a moment before Iskall pulled away, giving him a smile. Something that looked oddly proud. 

"I'll see you some other time." They said. "Now, run." 

And Mumbo didn't need to be told twice. 

~

It was surprisingly easy to find his way from the dressing room to the stairwell, and soon he was standing on the theater’s roof, a zeppelin anchored in front of him with Scar standing next to it. 

"There you are!" He exclaimed. "I almost thought you changed your mind!" 

"Not quite yet, mate," Mumbo replied, a smile on his lips. 

Scar tossed his head back in an exaggerated guffaw, "Ah, that's amazing! Climb on board, I'll be right behind you, I just want to make sure that you get on board without falling off."

Mumbo nodded, feeling slightly anxious about climbing the ladder that was shaking in the wind.

His palms were sweaty as he approached, the wind truly beginning to buffet around him as he got closer to the open air. He looked down, and- couldn't move. It was a big drop down to the street below them, at least three stories off the ground, and he'd really rather not fall off. 

"Well?" Scar asked, holding onto the ladder.

He allowed himself a second, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in, before Mumbo steeled himself and reached out a hand. Climbing the ladder, being aboard the zeppelin, those were things he’d have to get used to. Those were worth it, if it meant he got to see Grian again. 

Mumbo gripped the ladder and began to climb, keeping his sight on the even handholds above him. The climb was shaky, he truly believed he was about to fall off multiple times throughout it, but Mumbo eventually got to the top. He finally swung his legs over the side, feet touching a wooden floor, and barely a second passed before he was sinking down to the floor, shaking with anxiety from the long climb. 

Scar showed up moments after, and he only spared Mumbo a short glance before beginning to haul up the ladder behind them. 

"You came!" Grian exclaimed, running across the floor of the ship, throwing himself at Mumbo. "Oh god, I've missed you so much." He whispered, clinging onto Mumbo, as if he was scared of what might happen if he dared to let go. 

Mumbo hugged him just as tightly in reply, allowing himself to breathe in Grian's scent. It wasn’t as familiar as it used to be - hee smelled like flowers, no doubt from a perfume he'd begun to use at some point - but there was some undeniably recognisable smell that still remained underneath it. "I've missed you too." Mumbo sighed softly, happy to have his friend his arms. 

"Well, lovebirds, I seem to have missed the fact that you knew each other," Scar cooed, standing right next to them. 

Grian looked up at him. "No, you didn't.  I know you, you don't miss stuff like that," he replied. 

"You're right, I didn't, but it would've been funny," he smiled, then turned to look back down at the roof.

Grian stood up, holding out a hand for Mumbo. 

Mumbo took it immediately, feeling an urge to hold onto Grian as much as possible. "Thank you," he said gratefully. 

"Anytime," Grian replied, pulling Mumbo to his feet and not wasting any second before wrapping an arm around his waist. "You used me as bait, didn't you?" He asked Scar, brows furrowing.

Scar shrugged casually. "I might've," he admitted, still looking at the roof. "But that’s not important anymore, because - would you look at that! We were right on time." 

Grian and Mumbo peered over the edge together, looking down upon a group of cops as they began to flood onto the roof. They had managed to escape just in time. If they had been a second later, they would've been arrested.  

"Oh," Mumbo breathed, suddenly feeling a tad faint. 

Scar smiled at him. "Well then," he said, and held out his hand. "Welcome abord HMS Boatem! We hope that you enjoy your stay!"

Mumbo reached out a wobbly hand to shake, as Grian giggled next to him. "T-thank you," Mumbo stammered, as it finally began to set in just what he'd just agreed to. 

There was no going back now. 

He couldn't really say that he minded it, though. Not when the view of the city was that gorgeous, the sun slowly setting. Not when he could feel the wind blowing in his hair, Grian's arm wrapped around his waist. Not when he had finally found Grian again. 

If he was honest with himself, he was actually looking forward to seeing where this would take him, what his future would be like.

It all felt rather exciting.  

"Time to leave!" Scar said. "I'm going to tell Pearl to start driving, feel free to do anything your heart desires in the meantime."

Mumbo nodded in response, watching as he left with Grian at his side all the while. 

The two of them turned back to watch the sunset as it painted the sky in shades of yellow and red, a gorgeous inkstained canvas that felt as though it stretched out forever. 

"It's gorgeous." Mumbo whispered, afraid to break the moment between them. It felt strangely intimate and frail, like the illusion might shatter if he spoke too loudly. 

"Yeah," Grian breathed an equally quiet response. They stood in silence for a little while, Grian leaning against Mumbo, simply allowing themselves to be pushed to and fro by the wind. 

When the ship eventually began to move - after what could have been seconds or hours - Grian removed his arm from Mumbo's waist and entwined their fingers together. His hand was warm, and it fit against Mumbo’s own like a matching puzzle piece.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room," he said, beginning to tug Mumbo away from the edge of the ship.

Mumbo followed, their fingers knitted together all the while.

[11queensupreme11]

Me: I'm going to read Arsenic blues, wishing to see what the queen has to us ❤️

After reading the note: The fuck!?

Can't believe people are really stealing your job and asking why they haven't the right to it. People are crazier every time I check is half concerning and half amazing how their brains work

Have to be nice, living in that fantasy world for free and without Isekai yourself.

Be for real and growth. Write your own stuff and don't come here asking yourself why the author is mad when you literally just committed a CRIME

Anyway, great character as always queen! ❤️

It is amazing how Loki has one type, defender of rights only person here that knows about human rights and thinks they deserve it.

Loki's the "fuck around and found what happens" god and is always hurting him but he can't scape the consequences of his own actions

Dumb bitch, you're lucky you're hot

Baldur was the first to say: they deserve to live cause you created them and if they're bad it is because you all are worse, maybe if you all learn a minimum of moral they would be better ❤️

I love him, Loki really didn't deserve him, he doesn't deserve Percy either but Baldur is... *Chef kiss*

He was the first, if you know what I'm saying, it is even wonderful how a person (god) can be so kind without knowing what it really is. It is hard to be kind, but without an example!?

Made him the god of humanity and sent him far away from Loki's (too late)

Loki: what's wrong here? Him or me?

Me: You have one chance, and hint, it isn't Baldur you asshole

(That hint of karma. Poseidon is going to lose his daughter, one as loved as Baldur and it's just his fault cause he doesn't have a heart. Love that for him. I love him but I also love the drama)

(Maybe we're more like the gods that we like to think I guess)

Thinking about it, maybe Percy being too gremlin with him IS a good thing.

No matter what, that side of her, the way she's always ready to fight but also being ready to relax with him is his... Well, Loki is always on the edge, but her giving so much kindness to him is also pushing him away.

She chooses to spend time with him and genuinely enjoy that time when he isn't tricking her (to the surprise of EVERYONE including him)

(Percy, being too kind is one thing)

At least he's learning that maybe killing and hurting your loved ones isn't the best decision.

Took him millennials but progress is progress

For now, act 4 is going to give him a ticket express to that fall to madness

Beelzebub...

Well, his trauma is stopping him right now, but I trust him to find a way, it's the smartest one so I'm going to wait before saying something

(For once, the author's favorite is one of my favorites)

(Just laughed cause that is karma right there, you were the one always making the deals with bad ends, now is your turn babygirl. Still rooting for you king ❤️)

Thanks for the chapter Queen and remember, a alive Nico is the best kind of Nico ❤️

bro omg that plagiarizer was weird af. did you see the old ask asking for permission to make an hp x pjo x ror fic inspired by mine? THAT TURNED OUT TO BE THEM. they made a third wattpad account sfahdvbjhv 😭😭😭

i made another chapter calling them out on wattpad and they deleted the books and fucked off (they'll probably be back with a fourth account 💀) but yeah, that's just weird behavior fr 😭

and also.... the thing i wrote about poseidon getting karma? yeah, that's a big ass hint for the future HEHEHEHE

and yesss percy actually does enjoy loki's company most of the times, he just ruins it by... you know, being an asshole to her sometimes, but other than that, she likes hanging out with him! she actually considers him as a friend (but beelie is her #1 bestie in the ror verse LMAO)

[olderthannetfic]

About grammar/spelling in fics… i’ve always been very keen on reading fic that’s written correctly, or at least more on the “proper” side. And stupid mistakes like “could of” or the infamous wanton/wonton or whatever could drive me crazy lol

But maybe… a year ago? Two? I found a long-since-deleted fic in some dark corner of the web, and it’s a 500k mammoth that was never completed. I’ve read it 6 times since I first found it. I’m completely obsessed with it and I genuinely believe the author was a goddamn genius creative machine that could simply just WRITE! Like I imagine her/him/them having this masterpiece of a story just hanging out in their head, constantly growing, never losing sight of the details here and there, and with such a complete understanding of the intricacies of each character’s true personalities…? Like I have never seen such consistency and depth in characters so unique and broken and kinky.

Anyway, that’s me getting a bit lost in my love for this story. The point of this ask, though, is grammar in fic. And the thing about this masterpiece I just mentioned is… the author makes sooooo many stupid mistakes. They CONSTANTLY misspell the names of canon stuff (from places to weapons to characters) and I personally believe they’re likely at least a lil bit dyslexic, or otherwise very distracted, cause they’ll have the right letters but in the wrong order, eg. “contracidtory”, “cluastrophobic” — which, ok, could also be… they’re typing too fast? (Which adds to my theory that they’re a creative machine that could just write and post basically.)

In any case, when reading, one can tell the author is well-read because they have an impressive vocabulary (that is used appropriately!) and, of course, the story is so mind blowing that I would not be deterred by mere spelling errors. But I do find it interesting that since I’ve embraced the fact that my fave fanfic ever is like this, I find myself just cracking up and thinking fondly of the author whenever they make a silly mistake. And this courtesy has extended to other writers too! Ok, maybe I won’t be fond of them, but I’m far more willing to just skim over the mistake.

I guess I won’t ever really stop having “pet peeves”, those are just human to have, but it feels as if I’ve gone over a hurdle. Of course, reading well-written, well-spaced /anything/ will always be more pleasurable than the opposite, but I feel lighter now that I care less for it. This 500k story has given me so much, and yet it gives me more. It has taught me tolerance lol

--

There definitely are types of writing skill that will shine through even when the basic surface-level stuff is a mess. You have to be awfully good though.