#because the trauma fic is something that i tried to keep as close to canon as possible

[lover-of-mine]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

I was tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @wikiangela @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @captain-hen thank you!!!

Okay so, I'm trying to finish my Eddie Begins missing scene fic this week since the ep is on the list this week for the rewatch but unfortunately, like everything I tried to write ever, this seems to have escaped my control. Have a bit of it tho. prev snippet here.

Eddie is not alone for long though, Buck is walking in soon after, fisting the ends of the sleeves of his LAFD hoodie, hair looking like he's been running his hands through it, eyes a bit wild as he takes in the IV and monitor Eddie is hooked up to. "Are you still out of it?" Buck asks, voice hoarse as he steps closer to the bed.  "I don't think so," Eddie says, words scratching his throat and he watches as Buck's shoulders relax as he drops into the chair next to him.  "That was too close, man."  "I know," Eddie says, turning his head on the pillow so he can look at Buck more comfortably. "How you feeling?" Buck asks, placing his hand on top of Eddie's, rubbing his thumb over it in a way that makes Eddie wonder if he even realizes he's doing it.  "Cold," he says and Buck chuckles a bit breathlessly. "That does tend to be a side effect of hypothermia," he says, the small smile on his lips making his whole face soften into an expression Eddie can only describe as fond. It weirdly makes him want to keep looking at him. 

imma tag @alyxmastershipper @bucks118 @housewifebuck if yhey feel like sharing <3

[sundrop-writes]

Protective

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

Summary:

During his first full moon, Isaac needs to think of something to ground him - to keep his newfound powers from getting out of control. Derek suggests that he use anger, and he knows that Scott grounds himself with his love for Allison.

Isaac finds something in between - thinking of the anger he feels when you get hurt.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 2,300

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: canon level violence - mentions of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd having to be chained up on the full moon (to avoid hurting themselves and others), mentions of Isaac's abusive father (somewhat graphic descriptions of the abuse that Isaac experienced); Isaac has a self deprecating inner monologue because of the psychological effects of his father's abuse; mentions of Isaac being injured by his father's abuse; the reader also has an abusive father and it's a point on which they related and bonded (and how they became such close friends); at one point the reader describes her abuse as being 'not as bad' as Isaac's abuse (but that is psychological trauma speaking); mentions of the reader experiencing physical and emotional abuse; reader is described as 'pretty girl' at one point in the fic (again, this is very self indulgent); Isaac has a crush on the reader but has never voiced it (it's implied that the reader feels the same way); Isaac and the reader exchange friendly physical affection; emotional angst - Isaac feels powerless for not being able to stop the reader's abuse; I think that's it for this short fic? The themes are on the darker side, but it comes from a personal place for me.

A/N: If you've been following me for any amount of time, then you know I have a thing for sad, abused characters. If you have read my Ellie fic 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind of Weapon' - then you would know why. Isaac is the kind of character I immediately connect to for deeply personal reasons, so watching the entirety of Teen Wolf through for the first time, I couldn't resist writing a fic about him. There will likely be more to come about him, but for now - here is this deeply self indulgent moment inspired by Season 2, Episode 9. If you don't relate to this, I hope you can enjoy it as a distant whumpy fiction, and if you can relate to it - I hope that Isaac can bring you some comfort like he has for me. Much love, happy reading.

...

While the chains rattled against the abandoned subway car and Isaac tried to ignore Erica’s groans of pain from having several large bolts bored into her head, he couldn’t help the question that was rattling around inside of him. 

“How do you do it?” Isaac asked Derek as he arranged the chains around his limbs. He was trying to push down the sickly familiarity of it - being restrained. He was trying to tell himself that it actually was for his own good this time, not just a sick punishment given to him by a powerless, unhinged old man. “How do you keep it under control?” 

“You have to find an anchor.” Derek told him, firm, determined. 

It was nice to focus on the conversation instead of the anxiety rising in his chest, so Isaac pressed on. 

“An anchor?” He questioned, unsure what Derek meant. “Like what?” 

“Yeah. Something else for you to focus on. For me it's anger.” Derek paused. “But it's not like that for everyone.” 

It was immediately obvious to Isaac who Derek was speaking of. 

“Scott.” 

He had Allison. It was some dreamy romantic bullshit - using his love for his girlfriend to keep from wolfing out. But apparently, it worked well for him. 

Derek gave a subtle nod. 

Isaac didn’t have anything like that. He didn’t have some cheesy romance to fall back onto. He didn’t have someone declaring a love for him so openly - because he wasn’t worth loving. Even with his father gone, the world had made it very clear that he was just a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe - a problem being passed around that nobody could seem to solve. 

“It just has to be something strong enough to keep your mind present. A strong feeling you can hold onto. Anger, love, resentment, regret, rage. Just find something that works for you.” 

Isaac nodded, and Derek went to check that Erica and Boyd were secure as the moonlight came to its full brightness. 

… 

It got Isaac thinking about you. 

You were probably the one person in his life who didn’t think he was a problem. The one person in his life who loved him, even if you didn’t say it out loud. 

He had felt all of those things - anger, love, resentment, regret, rage - the last time he had been with you. When he had been sitting in your bathroom, perched on the closed toilet seat lid after an argument with his father. Naturally, the argument had ended with Isaac having a black eye, and a large cut on his cheek from his father's ring colliding with his face. 

You were the only person he ever went to. No matter how bad things got, you were the only person he ever told. You were the only person who ever understood. Isaac had found out the hard way that your own father was much the same as his. On the first day of freshman year, he had seen you wearing a sweater when it had been a balmy, sunny day, and he had volunteered to be lab partners with you - partially to get closer to a pretty girl and partially because a gnawing feeling was going off in his stomach. 

Even back then - even when he was scrawny and powerless, his instinct to protect you had still been so strong. Even if all he could offer you was a shoulder to cry on and the chocolate bar out of his lunch, he looked at you and he felt the world turning on the simple hope that he could make your day just a bit better. Because he knew, even without words, by the tiredness in your eyes - that you suffered like he did. And he wanted so badly to make it better. 

When the two of you were doing an introductory experiment of baking soda and vinegar to cause the classic foaming volcanic reaction, the rubber gloves you had been wearing caused your sleeve to ride up, revealing a menacing purple bruise on your wrist. Isaac spotted it instantly, and when you locked eyes with him, he held nothing but deep understanding there - not shock or even pity. Nothing but deep understanding and warmth. 

He held your hand under the table for the rest of class, and you had never wanted to pull away. You felt a unique kind of mourning when the bell rang and you had to part ways. 

At lunch that day, you found him under the bleachers by the lacrosse field. Without so much as a word, only a cursory glance around to make sure that nobody else was watching, he pulled up his shirt, revealing an array of horrifying bruises to you - some purplish, some green, some faded yellow - all collected from different points throughout the summer. The time when he had been trapped at home with his father, having nowhere else to go as the man got more aggravated with his presence. 

You ran a gentle touch along the wounds - the most gentle touch he had been greeted with since his mother's death, something that easily brought him to tears. And from that moment on, the two of you had a silent understanding. You spent the rest of the lunch hour exchanging ‘war stories’ and laughing with a tainted dark humor about your separate twisted patriarchs. And the next time he was bloodied and bruised, he texted you to meet him under the bleachers in that same spot, and you didn’t hesitate to rush out of bed at three in the morning to get to him. 

It became a sacred place for the two of you to escape to when you needed it. 

The two of you became a sacred comfort to each other - knowing that there was little escape in telling the police or a guidance counselor, because you had nowhere else to go. 

Today, when Isaac called you, you found your house luckily empty. Your mother and your father were away visiting relatives in another state, so when Isaac told you that he needed you, you texted him the all clear to come over to your house for a reprieve. He was lucky to be able to spend the night somewhere else - to get to sleep in your bed, cuddled up close to you for comfort, without fear. 

He tried not to wince with pain as you dabbed disinfectant on the large cut across his cheek. He hated seeing you flinch with empathy every time his expression wavered even slightly. He could handle the pain. He could be better than this. 

“Isaac.” You sighed his name pitifully, clearly on the edge of tears. 

Both of you knew the thoughts that were pulsing thickly through your head, even without you having to speak them. 

Isaac didn’t deserve this. You wanted to hurt his father in return. You wished you could take away his pain, you wanted to help him escape from it. 

It was a ‘wishful thinking’ conversation that the two of you had dozens of times before. It always ended with you both more upset than when it started, so you swallowed up those thoughts now. But Isaac knew them too well, written across your face and swollen on your lips like the tears brimming your pretty eyes. 

You put down the cotton ball you had been using and turned your back to him, poorly hiding your crying as you stiffly wiped off your cheeks. 

“What do you want me to say?” He replied, hating that this whole thing had to upset you. “You know how it is.” 

To an extent, you didn't. Your father was a screamer. He yelled loud enough to shake the walls, but he rarely escalated to physical violence. You found that you were lucky if you escaped a fight with death threats and tears rather than having hands laid on you. Isaac came to school with fresh bruises every other week - you had to feel that he was worse off than you were. 

“We should just go.” You said, feeling bold in your suggestion. It felt obvious - escaping. “We should just run away. Get the hell away from all this.” 

You whipped back around, still feeling a terrible twinge of pain and sadness inside you at the bruising across his face, the fact that his cheek was definitely swelling up now. 

Isaac frowned. It was a nice dream, and he hated to be the one to dash right through it. 

“You know we can't do that.” Isaac sighed. Ever the realist. Of course. “Where the hell would we even go? With what money? No offense, but the couple hundred dollars you have saved up from babysitting isn't gonna get us anywhere.” 

“It's over fifteen-hundred.” You told him honestly. 

It was a nest egg that you had been sitting on since middle school, hoping to escape your father and never look back. When you met Isaac, you had another thing anchoring you to Beacon Hills, keeping you from buying the bus ticket you had always wanted. 

“But you're right. That'll get us - what? A couple of nights at a motel?” You let out a harsh, dry laugh. Trying to relieve some of the tension. “Well… we could go on a vacation? Escape for a few days?” You suggested, sounding hopeful. 

The idea of spending time alone with Isaac - a getaway where the two of you could pretend none of it was happening, even for a few days - it sounded like paradise. 

Isaac’s mind went to a dream-like vision - having you alone in a hotel room. A bed just for the two of you. Even just getting the chance to sleep peacefully with you, cuddle you, it sounded like a dream. 

He had to pull himself back before his mind went to places a friend shouldn’t stray. 

“A last hurrah before my dad kills me for running away on him.” Isaac sighed. 

The consequences of it would be inevitable. The two of you would have to come back home eventually. He knew that your father would likely feel much the same. He would never forgive himself if you ended up bruised and battered because of something he had encouraged you to do. 

You let out a sob then - the thought of Isaac dying by his father's hands had been all too real to you at times. A horror you imagined in your mind over and over again, especially after times he had come to you with half his torso nearly bruised black and he had been unable to move properly for days. His father was a monster, and you didn’t doubt that he would be capable of murder. 

Isaac rushed to stand up, and pulled you into a hug. His warmth, his arms surrounding you tightly - it was the only place you ever felt safe. You eagerly gripped him back, missing the wince he let out when you squeezed a bit too hard over one of his bruised ribs. But no - he would never fault you for holding onto him too tightly. 

Holding you like this - he felt like he had the world in his arms. Something tight in his chest, telling him that if anything ever happened to you, he would become the same kind of monster that his father was. But in the same way any threat to you made him boil over with rage - you made him gentle. You made him soft and loving. You were the only person in the world who made him feel okay to weep. 

He kissed the top of your head, not a stranger to comforting you with affection even though the two of you remained strictly as ‘friends’. As much as he yearned for more - you were a life vest while he was drowning and he wouldn't risk fucking that up just to kiss you and call you his girlfriend. He wouldn't throw any messy feelings into the mix. 

“It'll be okay.” He told you. 

Coming from his lips, you had to believe it. 

“Thank you, Isaac.” You sniffled. And then, something hit you. “You came over here for my help, and now you’re comforting me.” You let out another dry chuckle, clearly resisting the urge to scold yourself. 

“This is helping.” He told you, hugging you tighter. “This always helps.” He said the last part quieter, a dropped whisper that you could barely hear. 

It was a truth he was afraid to confront just yet. 

… 

But in the present, it was a truth that was helping him more than anything. 

Isaac hadn't spoken to you since he had gotten the Bite. He had been terrified of hurting you somehow. The last thing he ever wanted was to become the thing that you feared. It would have been his worst nightmare to be the one to make you cower in a corner and cry rather than to be the one giving you comfort from it. 

As the moon came to a full wane overhead, and the mighty rage and power pulsed through his veins, Isaac thought of you. He thought of using that power to tear apart anybody who had ever hurt you - to finally free you from those tears. He thought of giving you the same relief he had felt when his father died. He thought of his love for you, even if it was a silent love that he had never gotten the chance to voice. 

“I see you found your anchor.” Derek remarked to Isaac later, after he had gotten Erica and Boyd back in their chains, tightening Isaac’s binds once again, if only as a precaution. 

“I did.” 

Derek looked at him with intrigue, as if waiting for him to explain. 

“Well, you said that you use anger. And Scott uses love.” Isaac told him. “I guess that mine is… some combination of both.” 

“Protectiveness.” Derek explained. “That's what wolves call it.”

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, and I wrote this to be a closed off story/its own little moment inspired by the show. This is a complete story, however, if there is enough interest, I might turn this concept into a longer oneshot and expand on the idea. It would not be me writing a 'part 2' of this, it would be me using this concept and writing a longer oneshot. I do have a personal vested interest in writing about powerful characters defeating abusers, but currently I don't have the time to turn this into something longer, so this is all I wrote. Please do not harass me about making this longer or posting something more, and if you're going to leave a comment asking for a continuation, please also tell me what you liked about this current story. Though I have something else in mind, I do consider this to be a completed story on its own.

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, mild violence, angst, weakly implied SA (not explicit at all)

Chapter Six

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

Joel sat stunned at his desk after you left. He had never seen that side of you before, always so meek and mild mannered. He shouldn’t have called you a whore. He realized now that was a mistake, letting his unhealed wound caused by another effect the way he treated you.

He rubbed his hands over his face, rethinking the conversation you just had. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to soothe his temper so he could think straight. Ok, so you were flirting with some other guy. That wasn’t a crime. He held no claim to you, you had only just kissed the night before, and you were both drinking. Does that even count?

Even if he disregarded the kiss last night, you still had been giving him signs showing your interest, right? Did he misread everything?

Frustrated, he stood up and paced the room again, recounting every interaction he had with you, trying to figure out if the way you acted towards him was just because he was your boss, or if you felt something more.

That one night in the conference room, he swore he saw your knees press together under the table, and he thought you were looking at him like you wanted to take things further, but maybe he came on too strong. Maybe you didn’t know how to react.

He was over analyzing everything now. The way you stepped away from him when he got too close picking up that box for you. How you purposely left his office door open when you came up to see him. Shit, has he been making you feel uncomfortable this entire time?

No, you grabbed his collar and kissed him, he didn’t make that up.

But you were drunk.

Fuck, this was confusing. Joel ran his hands over his face again, pausing to stare out the window. He turned around to head towards the door, and that’s when he spotted it: the small blue package on the floor.

He didn’t even notice you dropped it on your way out, his anger giving him tunnel vision on your retreating form. He reached down to grab it now, easily tearing open the tissue paper. Inside was a keychain: the Texas state flag in the shape of the state it represented. His home.

He stared at it for a moment, imagining you picking it out this morning, having only just known it was his birthday for a few hours. You went out of your way to get him a gift. No one else even bothered to acknowledge his birthday yet today, and here you were, coming into his office to surprise him. And what did he do? He called you a whore.

He was a fucking idiot. He had to find you. He wasn’t sure what he would say, but he had to try to smooth things over.

Joel ran out of his office, jabbing the ‘down’ button on the elevator.

“Joel, I have security on the line, they need to speak with you.” Ruby called out to him from behind her desk, but he waved her off, giving up on the elevator and running towards the stairwell. Once he made it to the 6th floor, he jogged down the aisle that headed towards the accounting department. It took his anxious fingers two tries before his security code worked, pushing the door open, his gaze immediately traveling to your desk.

You weren’t there. He approached it slowly, noticing the picture of your parents was missing.

“Mr. Miller? Can I help you?” the girl he now recognized as Debbie rolled her chair out of her cubical, surprised.

“Yeah, when did she leave?” he gestured towards your desk.

“Maybe 5 minutes ago? She didn’t say anything, she just left. Is she ok?” But Joel ran out of the department, the door swinging back open before Debbie could even finish her question.

Joel raced towards the stairwell. He passed the women’s bathroom, hearing some yelling inside. Right before he opened the door to head downstairs, he heard something crashing to the ground. He didn’t bother to look back, he had to find you.

Gasping for breath, he pushed the door open that entered the lobby. He hurried past the receptionist desk, when a thin girl with curly blonde hair piped up from behind the desk.

“Mr. Miller! The police were just called, something happened upstairs, people are hurt! Security is-”

Joel didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He forcefully pushed the front door open and stood in front of the building, breathless and frantically looking around trying to spot you. There you were, about half a block away, your hair blowing in the wind as you hunched over the box you were carrying.

Joel called your name, but you didn’t turn around. He called it again and again, and still no response. You probably couldn’t hear him over all these people yelling on the street. Why were they yelling?

Finally, on the fourth attempt to get your attention, you slowed your pace, but still did not turn to face him. He couldn’t blame you. He ran to catch up with you, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. Finally, you turned around to look at him, your gaze distant and face carved with fury.  He could see the tears in your eyes and the pain on your face that he caused. His chest tightened. He hated seeing that, and he hated even more that he caused it.

“Please, just stop and listen to me,” Joel panted, desperate to make you stop so he could catch his breath. Running down ten flights of stairs really made him feel his age.

He opened his mouth to make a poor attempt at an apology when six trucks rolled up to a screeching stop in front of his building. Dozens of armed soldiers with FEDRA adornments spilled from the trucks, charging into the office. The two of you stood together, stunned at what you were seeing. Then Joel heard the screaming, followed closely by gunfire. He grabbed both of your shoulders now, realizing this was serious and he needed to get you to safety. “Run!” he yelled at you, but you just stood there before him, a dazed look on your face. He gave your shoulders a quick shake and repeated himself: “Run!!”

That seemed to do the trick. Your gaze cleared, dropping the box you were carrying as he grabbed your hand, hauling you as far as he could in the opposite direction.

Joel nearly pulled your arm out of its socket dragging you down the street, careening around groups of people on the sidewalk, and ducking when bullets sounded too close. You clutched your purse against your body with the opposite arm, and briefly looked across the street to see crowds of people running in the same direction as you. You occasionally bounced off of bodies as Joel dragged you further away from your building. Finally, you reached the end of the street, about to cross, only to see more FEDRA trucks and soldiers bearing down on the crowds of people surrounding you from around the corner. You both paused long enough to see soldiers tackling and pinning down innocent civilians, their screams of terror filling your ears.

Joel yanked you in the opposite direction and around the corner, fleeing down a secluded alleyway, desperately trying to find someplace safe to hide. You heard yells and snarls somewhere in your wake, but you didn't dare turn and look, you had to keep pushing forward.

You both stumbled into a small courtyard, scattered with random pieces of patio furniture and surrounded by buildings. The two of you paused a moment to catch your breath and get your bearings. Joel whipped his head around and looked up at the sudden deafening noise of a helicopter overhead. Before it could spot the pair of you, he hauled you down another small alleyway that was empty, and even had a bit of aerial coverage due to a fire escape.

You both gasped for breath, frantically looking around to make sure no soldiers were nearby. As the roar of the helicopter faded and your breathing evened out, you finally looked at one another.

"Why is this happening? Is it a terrorist attack?" You asked him, your hands were shaking and you didn't realize you had been crying.

"Those were FEDRA soldiers attackin' people, I don't think it's terrorists," Joel said, letting go of your hand for the first time so he could rub his face. He glanced around again. You were between to a two story building and what looked like a hair salon. He took note of the fire escape above your heads.

"Alright, there must be offices or apartments or somethin' up there, let me see if there's anyone on the street first, then let's see if we can get in and wait this out."

He moved to poke his head out, but you grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him back in a panic. He looked at you, taking in the fear on your tear streaked face and your trembling hands.

He picked up both your hands and grasped them in his own, holding them against his chest. "Look at me. Breathe, c'mon," he mimicked deeply inhaling through his nose and exhaling out his mouth until you did the same. He waited until your hands steadied a bit before saying, "Now I need to see what's goin' on out there, we need to get off the street. I promise, it will be OK."

You nodded, letting your arms fall to your sides and out of his hold. As Joel slowly peeked his head out, you kept your eyes glued to the other end of the alley to watch for anyone sneaking up on you.

"Alright, looks quiet. The door's just a few steps over, I think it's a bodega. There must be apartments up top we can get to, c'mon." He took your hand again, carefully exiting the alley and only bringing you out behind him once he confirmed no one was around. He pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge. He gave it another shove, this time more forcefully. You could hear the bells on the other side of the door jingling. Worried you were too exposed and making too much noise, you pulled on Joel's arm, begging him to give up and think of another plan, when you both froze. You heard the lock clicking on the other side, and the door pushed open a crack.

An elderly man peered out through thick framed glasses, eyeing you both up carefully. "Either of you sick?" He asked, still keeping the door mostly closed.

"No, we ain't sick, we're just lookin' to get off the streets, soldiers are killin' folks out here," Joel replied, "please, we won't stay longer than we have to, you got my word."

The older man considered Joel's words for a moment, and then pulled the door open all the way, hurriedly ushering you both inside. He locked the door behind you, and pulled the diamond shaped metal security door in place after. You noticed he already had the windows secured with the same measures.

Joel was right: it was a little bodega. Your eyes swept around the shop, aisles filled mostly with snacks and other sundries. Along the back wall was a refrigerated and frozen section, towards the front where you entered was the cash register, and behind it a wall packed with cigarettes, some first aid, electronics, razors, and other items that were frequently pilfered. 

You were not alone in the store. There were four others sitting on the floor against the wall. Two men roughly middle aged, one girl a little older than you, and an elderly lady, who you assumed was the owner's wife. The others must have been customers in the shop before the shooting started.

You introduced yourselves to them, sliding down against the wall to the floor next to Joel to rest.

The elderly shop owner rifled behind the counter and procured a bulky radio. He placed it on the counter, tuning it to find a station that could give you some clue as to what was going on.

One of the men, Dan, addressed the room: "Anyone know what's going on out there?"

Paul, the other man, spoke up. "I don't know, man, but I've heard some freaky fuckin' shit. Someone I ran into out there said people are biting other people, makin' them go all crazy, tryin' to eat each other."

Joel scoffed, "C'mon, that's bullshit. Ain't no way that's happenin'."

"Man, it's fuckin' insane out there. The news was talkin' about the hospitals bein' overrun with some virus, then this happens? I'm just sayin', it ain't as crazy as it sounds." Paul replied, shaking his head.

"I saw it." The girl, Lindsey, spoke up quietly, staring distantly at the ground. "I saw someone bite another person. But they didn't look like a person anymore... their skin was gross, and they were missing hair. They looked almost like an animal or something, the way they jerked their body around."

The room fell silent for a few moments, everyone taking in what Lindsey said. Colleen, you thought to yourself, as you tucked your knees up against your chest, resting your chin on top, and clutching your purse to your side. She was bit, and she looked sick. Was FEDRA at your building because she was biting people? You shuddered at how close you came to being a victim. Joel saw and whispered, "You ok?"

You nodded sharply, not wanting to look him in the eye. You still remembered those words he said to you, those words so filled with hate and disgust all because you wouldn't put out. And now you were depending on this man who couldn't stand you to get you to safety. The only man you knew in this city that for sure was still alive.

A robotic voice from the radio filled the quiet room. It was announcing an emergency, clarifying it was not a test. It advised listeners to stay inside with doors locked, that the federal military has been deployed and to not open your door for anyone except them.

The message repeated over and over. You sighed, the events of the day catching up with you. The kindly bodega owner told you all to help yourselves to the food available, so you grabbed a few bottles of water, some granola bars, a bag of chips and a candy bar. You were starving, realizing you hadn't eaten lunch and it was getting late.

You returned to your spot against the wall, and halfway through your second granola bar, Joel rejoined you. He had grabbed some water as well, but picked up some beef jerky, trail mix, and a couple other things. The others had begun to mill around and stretch their legs, chatting amongst each other to keep their minds off the horrors outside.

"You sure you alright?" Joel asked softly while biting into another piece of jerky.

"Fine." You said curtly, keeping your gaze down. You knew this wasn't the time to unearth your problems, not with the world conceivably ending around you. "Thank you. For, you know, finding somewhere safe and all that."

He paused, looking at you for a moment like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how. "You're welcome, sw-, uh," Joel stuttered, almost using his pet name for you, but remembering the way he said it last time, decided it wasn't a good idea. "I'm just glad we made it. We'll figure this out and get you back to your family."

Your family. You hadn't even let your thoughts drift to your family, they must be worried sick. Your mom especially, who always tried to talk you out of moving here. You had to try to call them at the very least.

"Do you have your cell phone?" You asked Joel, looking him in the eye for the first time since you entered the bodega.

"Yeah, 'course, here." He reached into his pocket and handed the phone to you. You flipped it open and dialed your house phone, but all you heard on the other end was 'We're sorry, your call cannot be completed. Please hang up and try again.'

So you did just that, several times. You groaned in frustration, flipping the phone shut and handed it back to Joel. "Thanks anyway," you said.

"Phone lines must be down, dear," the owner's wife spoke up after seeing you struggle. "Our landline isn't working, either."

You looked in her direction and nodded sadly. The only hope you had now was to make it to a safe zone the government hopefully sets up, and you could try to contact them that way.

It turned out, Lenny and Maria, the bodega owners, lived in the apartment above the shop. They went upstairs and brought down as many extra pillows, blankets and cushions as they could find. They explained their apartment was small, only one bedroom, but they did have a couch. The group unanimously agreed Lindsey should take the couch. The poor girl was there alone, and it wasn't courteous for Dan or Paul to claim it, so it was a no brainer. They left the key to the bathroom on the counter by the register and headed off to bed.

You had created as comfortable a bed as you could, laying down a thick blanket against the wall on the tile underneath, and covering yourself with another. Luckily, the bodega had a few shirts for sale, as well as toothbrushes and toothpaste. You snagged a shirt that had the NY Mets logo on it and changed out of your work top in the bathroom, folding up your blouse and placing it gently near your pillow.

Joel had chosen to make his own bed next to yours. He gave you a little space, but not much. He didn't know these two men you shared the room with: they seemed like they were trustworthy, but things can deteriorate quickly when people realize no one is around to enforce the rules anymore.

You turned on your side to face the wall, tucking the blanket under your chin. Joel looked over at you, the dim glow from the refrigerators casting over your form, as he watched the steady rise and fall of your breath. You were so scared earlier, the way you grabbed him in the alley with that wild look in your eye, probably in shock after what he put you through, and then the chaos that ensued. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes.

He needed to apologize. When the time is right, he needed to explain himself. Right now would not be that time. He could tell you had been through too much today and needed your rest. It was then that Joel vowed to himself to get you to safety. If he ruined his chance with you, the least he could do was make sure you were safe.

He laid on his side and faced your direction, watching your breathing slow when you fell asleep. In a different world, right now he would be out with Tommy celebrating his birthday, and hopefully riding the high of you accepting his date. Instead, he yelled at you and the world went to shit. Christ, was Tommy ok? Did he know what was happening here? Was it happening anywhere else?

His eyelids grew heavy. He shifted so the keychain in his pocket didn't dig into his thigh. He took one last look at you before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

The group of you spent the next three days holed up together in the bodega, sharing handfuls of dry cereal and snacking on the food from the shelves. At dinnertime, Maria was generous enough to make everyone a meal in the little kitchen upstairs. You all huddled around their modest dining table, occasionally flipping through the channels on the television, hoping something would appear other than static or the station’s sign-off announcement.  Sometimes at night, you could hear gunshots and yelling, but it was far enough away that it didn’t worry you too much. It wasn’t until Tuesday that you heard patrolling soldiers from their trucks, encouraging citizens to come out of their dwellings to be taken to the safety of a quarantine zone.

Joel hesitated at first, remembering how he saw FEDRA soldiers tackling innocent people in the streets, but he didn’t see any other option. He couldn’t reunite you with your family if you stayed holed up in a bodega, and even if he could make it to his car and drive you himself, the entire city was on lockdown.

The group of you filed out of the bodega slowly when you heard a FEDRA truck approaching down the street. A few soldiers jogged up, inspecting you all carefully, asking questions like “Does anyone have a fever?” and “Was anybody bit or attacked?” Once it was clear you were all healthy, you climbed into the back of the truck, clutching your purse, your folded work blouse shoved inside.

The makeshift quarantine zone was set up at a high school on the edge of the city. The soldiers explained it was less populated in that area, and therefore less infected people. You connected the dots: the questions about bites, the infection, the fever. It seemed like the crazy rumor Paul and Lindsey talked about was true, people really were going insane and hurting others.

Everybody stood in a line and waited to be processed at the entrance of the school. The soldiers took turns taking each of you into a small room to inspect you closer for any bites and checked your temperatures before allowing you to continue. At the next station, you were each handed a thin blanket, a pillow, and a small bag of essential toiletries, then led through the doors into the school’s gymnasium.

The room was enormous; filled with people, bags and cots. Beside you, Lindsey cried out in joy, bolting across the room when she saw a man she recognized, presumedly a husband or boyfriend. Dan and Paul wished the rest of you well, thanked the older couple again for their hospitality, and drifted away into the crowd.

You gave Maria and Lenny each a hug, thanking them over and over for keeping you safe, and promised to return to their shop once everything went back to normal. Then it was just you and Joel again.

He led you around the various clusters of people until you found an unclaimed cot. You tossed your provisions and your purse on one end and looked back up at Joel.

“Well, I guess this is it,” he said, glancing around the room trying to think of something else to say. Neither of you had talked about the argument you had, and the more time that passed, the more difficult it became. You stared down at your hands while fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, all the words left unsaid just kept getting pushed further and further down.

“Uh, once you get settled in, go find one of them soldiers at the entrance and see if they can’t contact your folks for you,” Joel said, shifting his weight. “I’m sure they can find someone out there.”  

You nodded, keeping your head down and biting your lower lip anxiously. The only person you knew who was alive in this city was leaving you. You tried to keep him from seeing how nervous you were, so you turned to spread your blanket out on your cot, and began to sift through the bag of toiletries to occupy yourself.

Joel watched as you slowly unpacked your things, the words he so desperately needed to say stuck in his throat. Just say it, say you’re sorry, you will never get another chance again.

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t say it. Maybe because he thought it wouldn’t matter, maybe the seriousness of the situation everyone was in took precedence, or maybe because you had hardly spoken a word to him since the outbreak. Instead, he turned and walked towards the opposite side of the gym, setting his stuff down on an empty cot next to another man. He was wearing a Yankees hat on top of his bald head, sporting a full, dark beard and hiding a beer gut under his worn out white T-shirt.

"Hey, man," he stretched his arm out to Joel, "Louis."

Joel shook his hand, "Joel." He muttered, glancing back towards your direction.

"If you wanted a spot closer to your girl, I can switch." Louis offered, following Joel's gaze.

Joel shook his head. "She ain't my girl," he said sadly.

"Ah, yeah, man, I get it." Louis replied, scooting closer on his cot so he could lean closer to Joel. "Let me give you some advice though: if you care about her at all, you won't leave her alone here, you get me?" His voice was lower now, capturing Joel's attention away from you.

"What do you mean?" Joel asked, eyebrows raised. Louis looked back in your direction as you stood up to follow Joel's advice about speaking to one of the soldiers.

"I mean, I've heard some shit, at night. We all have. There's a couple girls who are here without anyone, and some men around here have noticed." Louis put emphasis on the last word to imply something dark.

Joel frowned, leaning back and glancing around the room. He did notice there were hardly any women that were alone, most of them were with family or friends. Then he saw a small group of three men diagonal across the room, their eyes following you as you exited to speak to the soldiers about your parents.

He looked back at Louis, shocked. Louis nodded subtly towards another group behind the two of you, who also had been looking in your direction. Jesus, things really went to shit quickly.

"What the fuck?" Joel whispered towards Louis angrily, his jaw clenching. "Why haven't you told the soldiers?"

"We do, man. Every time. I don't think they care, they are more worried about infected than stuff like that. I'm starting to wonder if some of the soldiers are in on it, too." Louis shook his head, adding "When my wife gets here, we are leaving fucking immediately, I suggest you take her somewhere else."

Joel rubbed his hands over his face. "Where else is there?"

"I don't know, man, people are saying this virus is all over, not just the city. But I'm not letting my wife stay here. I'd rather take my chances out there." Louis hitched his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards outside.

Joel sighed. "Alright, thanks. D'you mind swappin' with her? I'll get us outta here tomorrow."

Louis packed up what little items he had, and headed over with Joel towards your cot. You had just sat back down, looking defeated and lost. The solider said they would try to help you out if they could, but they weren't making promises, that everyone in this place was looking to contact someone.

"Hey, c'mon, get your stuff, you're comin' over by me," Joel said gruffly, still angry about what was happening here. You looked up at them both, confused. "Why?"

"I'll explain later, just hurry up before someone else takes the spot." Joel avoided looking you in the eye and instead glanced back over his shoulder, noticing the group of men from earlier were watching.

You wanted to argue with him, but thought better of it. He's been sleeping next to you for the past three nights, what difference did it make now.

Nodding at Louis, who shot you a tight smile and set his stuff down on your now vacated cot, you got up to follow Joel across the room.

The next morning, you woke up early, before the sun, to see Joel with his back to you, sitting on his cot, alert and wide awake. You laid there for a while, running your eyes up and down his back and across his broad shoulders, taking in his striking side profile when his head turned. Even though you were so badly hurt by his words, you were still undeniably attracted to him, which was incredibly frustrating. You let your eyelids flutter back closed, and replayed the kiss you shared over and over in your mind. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it gave you some comfort, ignoring everything that happened after that kiss.

When the sun filtered in through the gymnasium windows, you begrudgingly pulled yourself up, stretching and yawning, finding Joel was packing up his things. "What're you doing?" You asked sleepily.

"We're leavin', get your stuff." He replied, not looking up.

Joel hadn't told you why he wanted you to switch spots closer to him, and you didn't ask again. You weren't sure you wanted to know. You just packed up your things quickly, and stood to follow him out of the room. You passed by Louis on the way out. Joel reached out to shake his hand once more, and Louis nodded to you, saying, "Stay safe out there, sweetheart."

You gave him a small smile, trying not to show the sadness that filled you to hear the term of endearment Joel used to use, and exited the school the same way you arrived.

Chapter Seven

[solangelo]

I was wondering, do you have any recomendations on some long fics? Like, not just one chapter? Sorry if you had already posted something abou that. Anyway, thanks!!! (Really like your blog <<3333)

Absolutely!! I pretty much only read on Ao3 anymore so all of my recommendations are going to be there, but if others want to tack on their own recommendations in the comments they're always welcome to do so :)

A few things,

I tried to put content warnings on the bodies of work as I see fit, but some of these I read over a year ago and haven't looked at since so I apologize if I've missed something!

Additionally speaking, I've marked anything in which contains characters having sex with a red heart emoji ❤️ as it should be viewable on light and dark mode, across multiple forms of devices (ios vs android, etc) and should be readable to screen readers as well; As per previous notes on this blogs, any explicit depictions of characters having sex will also have them being explicitly over 18. Now without further ado-

I'm a huge fan of rabbit_soup's "Healing Takes Two" series, it's 13 pieces in total some of them are oneshots and others are multichapter but they all fit together making it a large body of text. The plot extends from Nico's three days in the infirmary to the early stages of their relationship and still seems to be ongoing with the author taking on rewriting some of their older pieces.

arum scarce by GalwayGirlo [16/20] AU ❤️:

Nico wakes up paralyzed following a motorcycle accident. Maybe Will Solace can help him get some feeling back?

(cw: suicidal ideation, a suicide attempt, adult having a relationship with a minor, "mafia stuff")

When I Get Home to You by 2nd2ndalto [10/10] Canon Compliant, Time Travel ❤️:

Will’s brow furrows."N - Nico?"

It’s impossible, this boy can’t be Nico, but the name falls from his lips without real conscious thought. Nico is 38 years old and probably sitting at home in their living room, hopefully having figured out how to fix the clogged dishwasher line, which is what he’d been planning on doing when Will left early this morning.

(cw: conversations about suicidal ideation and related topics, and young nico is involved so canon compliant trauma of his comes up as well)

talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love spiral) by wrongcaitlyn [34/34] and a part 2 currently at [2/?] chapters, Celebrity AU ft. Trans Nico:

“Keep telling yourself that,” Will says quietly, because even though the door is closed, speaking any louder would seem wrong. “You’re too harsh on yourself. If you wrote songs or something, you’d easily get on the Billboard Hot 100. Dad would help you. I would, too.”

“Promote it to your seven followers?”

“Yes!”

Nico laughs, and then Will is joining him, and they’re closer than before, but it’s nothing unusual. It’s been this way since before stupid feelings and stupid crushes, and Nico would be damned if he let it change just because of that.

(cw: alcoholism, childhood abuse and neglect, character death, car accidents, transphobia/homophobia/generalized queerphobia, gender dysphoria, suicidal ideation and related topics)

peach tea by ghosttotheparty [5/5] AU ft. Latino Will:

Will brushes his thumb over the side of Nico’s hand gently. His skin is soft. Nico’s fingers tighten on Will’s. It kind of feels like neither of them wants to move. Will doesn’t mind.

He sits up after a moment, but Nico doesn’t let go of his fingers, so he lifts the arm that’s awkward between them and sets it behind Nico, leaning back to rest on it. Nico just looks at the tapestry.

or; Will falls in love with the new kid.

(cw: mental health struggles, ptsd, anxiety/panic attacks, depression, grief, and character death)

What Could've Been Lights by athaleablaire [18/18], AU - I can’t remember if they have sex in this, rating is teen and up and all characters are over 18 but enter at your own risk:

In Will's eyes, he really has it all. A job as a surgeon at an amazing hospital, great friends-- what more could he ask for? Everything is going great until a man walks into his emergency room half-dead. In the mission to save his life, Will gets a little more than he bargained for.

(cw: injury and recovery, accusations of substance use)

a shadow in the rising sun by demigodbeautiies [9/13], AU Royalty, Arranged Marriage:

This is a story about the Ghost King.

Will Solace (crown prince in the Seventh Kingdom, politically useless as it may be) does not particularly want to be married to a thing of nightmares. He doesn't really have a choice, though. When does he ever? He allows his father to push him led into this politically advantageous, beauracratically necessary arrangement without too many complaints, and resigns himself to the fact he will be marrying a tyrant out of the tall tales his mother used to tell him when he was a boy.

Except then he meets his husband - a boy, and one younger than he is at that! - and realises that he has absolutely no idea what to expect. All he can hope for is that no one tries to kill him.

(cw: character death, character injury?)

NICO Centric:

Lethe by Eridans [8/8] Canon Compliant with a part 2 at [16/16]:

He's ten and ninety simultaneously, his mother was murdered and his sister is a stranger. He's got a deck of cards that he holds onto like a lifeline and an Italian-English dictionary that's old as hell and crumbling, but it's not as old as he is, and that makes him laugh.

The River Lethe was supposed to take away their memories, but Nico remembers his past, his days at home, the times he spent with his sister and mother at parades Mussolini hosted, where Maria sang the national anthem. The river tried to take away everything Nico cherished, and it could have been pure desperation or grief that made him remember his past.

Nico didn't know.

(cw: I started reading this fic over 8 years ago and haven't read it since it's last update 3 years ago, expect canon compliant events and themes to occur but otherwise proceed at your own risk, exercising caution and compassion for yourself where necessary <3)

WILL Centric:

Solace by solisaureus [11/11], Canon Compliant:

solace (n.) comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness.

solis (n.) the Latin word for "sun."

(cw: author includes their own content warnings at the start of each chapter!)

sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes by whimsicalMedley [13/26] Canon Compliant ft. Trans Will Solace:

Contrary to his general disposition, William Andrew Solace was born in the middle of an October hurricane.

Or, Growing up is hard. It’s even harder when you’re the son of the sun god.

(cw: author includes their own content warnings at the start of each chapter!)

Hopefully this is a good place to get you started, nonnie!

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: "Looking at Something?"

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Astarion/M!Tav, elf/elf, paladin/rogue

POV: Tav(Rorik)

Themes: Aggressive flirting, praise kink (if you turn your head and squint), safe for work, mild angst, retconned Canon Dialog.

Warnings: trauma, manipulation, anger, neck wounds, alludes to distant past and recent abuse.

Author's Notes: First and foremost a disclaimer, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and smeagol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

Fic Summary: Astarion is looking for reassurance or praise or... Something, and then the writer remembered they used the intelligence as a dump stat to boost their Tav's charisma and rolled with it. Mentions a friend's character. I only barely proofread so consider this your warning.

Tagged at request: @ghostkingart

“Looking at something?” Astarion addressed Rorik when the paladin passed behind him and paused.

Rorik was tired, he'd stopped on his way back from a piss because something wasn't right. He’d been too beaten by the beasts of the underdark to process the scene before him for its absurdity. The vampire spawn was holding a hand mirror, scowling into it as if scorn might make his reflection appear in its smooth glitter.

The high elf angled the mirror in such a way that Rorik could see himself. Did he always look so serious? Yet disinterested? Rorik seldom sought his reflection, it wasn't a countenance he wanted to face.

“Just looking. What are you doing?”

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much” Astarion told Rorik almost softly, sadly. “Another quirk of my affliction.” he spat the last word as if it tasted rancid, eyes dark and lips cutting a sour pout.

Rorik had heard these sorrow-songs many times in his homeland and beyond. He was no stranger to this agony, but it never got easier to hear it, even from a spawn he hardly knew, harboring a strain of the cursed malady he was not so familiar with. It seemedthat no matter the variant, it affects one's reflection in glass treated with a paper thin veneer of silver.

Rorik played the fool, wrong as it felt to pretend he needed to ask questions in order to guess how Astarion might feel about not having seen himself in centuries.

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?!” He bordered on sounding offended, but his expression shifted with the same flippancy as his whims. Sometimes Rorik wondered if Astarion was making himself hard to read on purpose. Now, with a short but heavy pause, he went on with a longing about the droop of his shoulders and the way he looked at the other man, perhaps with jealousy. “Of course I do…”

He continued.

“I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.” And then, those scarlet eyes plunged back into darkness with his last syllables. His seething glare burned as hot as the Sun's love burned his vampiric skin in the day, before the illithid worm at least.

Rorik tried a question he'd heard many times before, sometimes even directed at himself. It might keep him talking. “What color were they before?”

“I... I don't know. I can't remember.” His glare softened with something that half revealed him, but the outraged anguish returned to him, as it tends to do. “My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost.”

Astarion threw down the mirror as he finished, it cracked as it struck the packed earth beneath them. If they were standing in a proper room of wooden or brick floor then the mirror would have shattered in a spectacular fashion.

Spiteing the fact that Astarion needn't air to live, he drew pants of heavy breath as he bared his teeth in his anger. He had every right to be angered, all spawn do.

Patience, Rorik reminded himself. As much as it went against his instincts to stick around within range of teeth while their owner bobbed between drowning in their own righteous fury and the oblivion of sorrow, there was always something about Astarion which lured him in. Rorik could still look at himself in a mirror, most of the time, and he thought maybe the reason he hadn't yet walked away from Astarion while he tantrumed about his past, present or Casador might just be because: he could see his reflection in Astarian, too. His pain felt all too familiar.

“What?” Astarian broke him from his thoughts.

Rorik corrected quickly, unsure what his own expression had revealed. He straightened a head that had tilted toward his left shoulder, fixed his eyes which he guessed had softened upon Astarian’s anger on base instinct. Too close. He'd almost fallen victim to his old habits, but Astarian was no flailing racer stallion who required the softness of a coddling stable pony to calm him. And Rorik was nobody's pony anymore.

“I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?” It was a cheap distraction, yes, but he found in it genuine empathy. Astarian couldn't see himself, hadn't seen himself in two-hundred years, he deserved the next best thing.

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.” Astarian replied with another reflection, this time of Rorik’s own sincerity.

The deferring tipping of Astarian's head told it all. A wound had been bared for Rorik to examine, one he could grind salt into and Astarian knew that. It was the scattered moments of vulnerability that helped Rorik stay, too.

He feigned a smile just in time, before his silence convinced Astarion that something was wrong. The others' brows were already creased as he braced to be hurt.

“Well, the shmutz of bullette viscera smeared on your left cheek has my attention right now.” Rorik jabbed casually.

Astarion scrubbed his wrist over his face with an irritable grimace, following Rorik's gesture to find the supposed smear of gore, only to find nothing because Rorik was having a little fun at his expense. Astarion was fastidious in his grooming. He’d missed nothing when he'd washed.

Rorik was rewarded with a glare, so he laughed, “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't jest… I'm not a poet, I'm not romantic by any stretch of the imagination, and I don't do flattery. So brace yourself.”

“Oh.. Kay…?” Astarion murmured.

Rorik straightened his posture to look Astarion from the toe of each tidy elvish crafted loafer up to the top most curl of his head of white silver. Consciously taking him in only topically.

“If I were unbiased and this were my first impression: Your face is long but not overly narrow. Your nose is very straight, cutting a tidy profile. I imagine you've never had it broken. The fairness of your skin hints at a noble upbringing; a childhood spent indoors rather than under the gaze of the noon sun. Your hands are clean and unmarred, so for certain you're not a laborer. You are clearly particular about how your hair is done every morning… Your jaw is angled sharply toward your chin but is neither too strong nor too weak. It suits you well. Your lips are full which reinforces an air of youth about you, and your upper lip is just a bit thicker than the lower without being distracting… About five foot and eleven inches, shoulders broad enough to mandate care toward them when having garments tailored… In all, The world sees a young elf.”

Rorik bit the end of his tongue as he finished, holding back the last and decidedly biased thought: that he saw all these things too but accompanied by eyes which looked as tired as he often felt himself.

Astarion's expression was empty yet soft, gaze drifting into the middle distance until the very end when his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted as if something had curdled in it.

“Eugh! Must you always make everything sound so clinical!? You told Edmund this morning the cactus where your heart should be has beautiful flowers and that was backhanded!” Astarion mocked Rorik's northerner accent, badly, “I know you can do better than that. Ugh, for shits’ sake, why do you find me attractive? Why does anyone find me attractive, Rorik?”

That took Rorik off guard. This wasn't just about forgetting one's own appearance, was it? It was about Astarion understanding how the world was affected by his body being in it. Rorik shifted in discomfort, now put on the spot to summarize the things he personally found alluring. He felt almost dirty saying it.

“I- suppose people can't help themselves but to admire? You're striking. Perfectly styled snow hair, you're well formed… Em, lovely skin? like opal? White opal. Were you true symmetrical I would've drawn my sword, having mistook you for a stone wit-”

“I- I'm not symmetric?? Where is my face uneven!? Tell me this instant!” The high elf squawked, hands smoothing up the planes and dips of his visage in search.

Rorik snorted. Astarion seemed like the type to become offended at the mention of a slightly uneven cupid’s bow. Best not add to his self image anxieties too much. A true lie would have to do.

“You have a freckle or two, perhaps from your recent love affair with the sun.”

“Freckles?!”

“Oh, relax. Not near as many as me.” Rorik reassured.

“Hmph. That was… Better-ish, I suppose. You're onto something, keep going.”

Rorik's expression pinched with realization. “Is that all you're after? Shallow praise?”

“Hardly! I'm also after gold, sex, revenge. Quite the list, really, and failing any of those I will always settle for: shallow praise.”

“Fuck that noise. I can do better than patting your ass with a couple cheap compliments.”

“Care to expand on that? I can't tell if I'm being derided or offered an upgrade from your awkward small talk.” Astarion harrumphed and began picking under his fingernails, apparently checking out of the conversation in a display of boredom.

Rorik stepped closer to recapture his attention, spurred forward by a volatile cocktail of embarrassment, ego, and vindictiveness that had spilled in close proximity to the competitive streak within him.

“I used to be good at this. I swear. You'll just have to be patient while I call it back to me.” Rorik leveled in a low rumble, and it was no bluff. Idle worship of a bloated ego had saved his skin in his youth more times than he could count. This bordered too close to an exhumation of the corpse of his past, but if the occasion calls for it in the name of harmless fun: then let old habits lumber about like a fucking zombie.

Astarion's eyes lit themselves with dark amusement, leaning in too with a smug sneer, “Call louder. I think it ran straight past you.”

Rorik wasted no breath on the others' taunting. He delivered. “Your eyes are extraordinary, they burn through people like a branding iron. I'd rather face a devil I’d sleighted.”

Astarion let loose the bark and giggle of laughter which used to grate on Rorik's nerves, “Oh, not bad… and you said you don't do flattery! Do go on.”

That's one point to Rorik. He wanted more than that. He wanted to win whatever this was. “They have their moments of immeasurably inviting softness, too. Eyes like yours tend to get their way with me, if I'm being honest… And don't let that go to your head.”

“Ha! Hard not to. That's a dangerous admission.” Astarion swayed his shoulders and hummed with an odd, rich texture in his voice. His expression was guarded, however.

“Awareness of one's weaknesses is healthy, I'm told..” Rorik commented rather pointlessly. Choosing pretty analogies for the features of a face he found attractive felt more risky than it should. Rorik's jaw and throat felt hot for no particular reason. “Moving on. Your smile is deadly. Like a bear trap lined with sweet meats and candied fruit. A pout, a grin, a laugh, they all draw me closer…”

Closer. Astarion must've taken the utterance of the word as an invitation. He brandished that smile like a blade now and brought them near nose to nose. “Yes, yes. You're right. But we know better, don't we, Rorik?”

Not fair. Rorik’s naked skull felt like it was on fire, and the feeling was not limited to neck and up.

“We do. You can't lure bats with candy in pretty wrappers.” he tilted his head with his words, ever so minutely, exposing the angry punctures in his throat.

“If it isn't the sweet taste that draws you in, then what is it? Tell me Acolyte.”

Rorik shook his head. “You know I'm a masochist. You know the answer to that.”

“Aw, Little Treat longs to be trapped? How delightfully demented.”

“Mm,” Rorik offered a solemn nod. It was another admission of those dirty weaknesses. “Last thing for now-”

“For now?” Astarion crooned, grinning wickedly as he underlined Rorik's implication that he may have more to say on this particular topic at a later date.

“For now,” Rorik confirmed but teased… Teasing? He'd never teased like this, in this context, before. Best end on a note of humor, “Speaking of teeth, you've the most polite little feedin’ fangs.”

“...What?” Astarion straightened then and leaned away.

Rorik must've thrown him off his rhythm with that one. Right. Astarion was from a small coven, and apparently not one which enjoyed the bleak humors of the condition.

Rorik leaned minutely closer and bared his razors in a grimace with a finger directing attention to them. “I'm saying, your teeth look almost normal. At least compared to these lawn shears I was saddled with. Your smile is still sharp, but passable. Many with the condition aren't so lucky.”

“Good to know I'm not a complete freak.” Astarion harrumphed.

“Maybe I crossed the line. I forget, not everyone reconciles it all so easily.” Rorik admitted, but refused to backpedal that last opinion.

“I suppose I can give you a pass on it, given that you were born with… All of that.” Astarion gave a waving finger gesturing to all of Rorik as he half-accepted the half-apology.

Rorik couldn't help but chuckle and look away, the imagery brought to mind was too heinous and ridiculous all at once. “Well, I was indistinguishable from the living until I consumed blood at fifteen-ish but, sure. I wasn't bottle fed monk blood as a tot. Couldn't imagine that horror.”

"Normal children are horrible enough… Now, why don't you just tell me I'm beautiful and we'll call it an evening.” Astarion shifted the topic smartly, but looked away for a moment too.

The dance was strange. Rorik wasn't sure what they were doing, but he sort of liked it.

“You're alright, Gale is more my type.” Rorik lied, blatantly.

“How dare you!” Astarion's tone was playful, rather than offended, although it's always hard to tell with Astarion, “I thought we had something special… Still, you're nice too. I’d better get some beauty sleep. It seems I need it if I'm to catch up with the competition.”

Rorik could only shake his head. Everyone has a type. Astarion's was apparently fractured faces and a malignant glare. Rainar's glare. Rorik quickly tossed aside the errant thought and the accompanying cruel memory. He dipped his head before deciding to attend his own sleep.

“Sure sure, but do tread with caution. The pursuit of perfection is perilous, and you're already knocking on the door.” Rorik offered with a smirk. This game was… fun.

“Hhmf! Says he's not romantic,” Astarion mocked talking to himself, shooting a dark glance and that dangerous smile over his shoulder as Rorik retreated to his bedroll by the fire.

[forestcat000]

Sooooo

This was a comment in response to me wanting an excuse to ramble about my Targaryen's survive AU so thank you @celerieth for this opportunity and thank you for the follow (:

Btw I am sorry to everyone who only follows me for aphmau content because I keep posting game of thrones stuff.

Warning, long post

So I've mentioned my AU and it's concept on my blogs before. The premise is basically all the Targaryen's survive the rebellion and kill the Baratheons, Starks, Arryns, and Tullys for their treason. Aerys remains king but I kinda stall his madness for the sake of story telling so Jaime does not kill him.

My fic starts at the same time as the Canon books except it basically only (so far) takes place in kingslanding. All the Targ kids (Aegon, Rhaenys, Daenerys, Viserys, Jon) get their own chapters, Rhaella and Elia, get them as well. Rhaegar is the only one so far without a chapter in progress.

The story mainly follows the more domestic drama and relationships between the characters so far, with everyone having to endure Aerys. But I do add in a lot of fluff for the Targ kids so it can be sweet.

Aegon is the picture perfect prince, smart, funny, kind, good looking but he has a few problems. Aegon has some pent up hatred towards Rhaegar for abandoning the family during the rebellion, this results in Aegon being more critical and distrustful of Rhaegar, viewing Rhaegar as mad for chasing a prophecy. This extra tension since Aegon is the child who Rhaegar views as the prince who was promised and thus pays extra unwanted attention to Aegon. Aegon is very close with his siblings, and mother, feeling extremely protective of them.

Rhaenys is an intelligent, witty, charming girl. Rhaenys shares Aegons feelings towards Rhaegar for the rebellion but she's much calmer and more lenient with Rhaegar, mainly because she doesn't talk to him often, he's distant and often in his head so neither cares enough to reach out. Rhaenys is loving towards her family and often tries to keep them in line, especially Daenerys. She has a slight rivalry with Daenerys but it's largely loving. She is the only one of her siblings in a relationship, she is secretly courting Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

Viserys is much nicer and calmer than in Canon since he never had to go through the trauma of being on the run and having his family die. Viserys is a loving older brother and uncle. He's a mama's boy, he tries his best to support his mother while she deals with the abuse at Aerys hand. He has a slightly odd relationship with Aerys. Aerys spared Viserys a lot of the abuse that the other family members suffered because Viserys is his favorite son, while he was saved from the physical and mental abuse he developed a guilt of sorts, feeling guilty that while his family is hurt he is safe. This guilt causes Viserys to be a bit protective and he tries to remove his family members from the area when Aerys get violent and loud.

Daenerys is reckless and chaotic but loving. She has a complicated relationship with her father. Aerys goes from doting on his daughter in every way to yelling and screaming at her at an instant, as a result Daenerys tends to avoid being around her father unless necessary. She's extremely close to Viserys with him being her safe person, kinda seeing him as a father or a caretaker more than a brother.

All the family members that have POVs are the main characters but Jon (Aemon in my rewrite) has the biggest one planned out. Jon is the last known member of the Stark family since he's Lyannas son. Jon is raised as something similar to a prisoner, being a symbol of the war and all the people the Targaryens demolished. Jon is antagonized by Aerys frequently to the point Jon loses sleep every night over the possibility of being murdered and having dreams of being burned alive by Aerys. He feels something similar to survivors guilt, believing he didn't deserve to live, and viewing his birth as the cause of the rebellion (will alaborate if needed)and as a result the cause of death of everyone who died in the rebellion, including all the Starks and his mother. Jon is extremely paranoid and fearful. Hes so paranoid that he went mute because he was scared of saying the wrong thing and being killed, his fear is intense that he can't talk if he tried, he created a mental block to stop him. he is rarely away from Aegon who he is close to, if Aegon is in a room Jon cannot go in he'll wait by the door for Aegon to come out. Jon is close with Rhaenys as well, often going to her for comfort.

That's base info, I know there's a lot, and that's just the stuff that I'm posting, I have pages of lore I'm waiting to implement.

If anyone is interested in any of this feel free to ask questions. Also thank you Celerieth.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Tell me some of your favorite headcanons for the boys ?

I mean... I'm afraid of answering this for BDOR spoilers, because I have put all of my favorite head canons into that fic, obviously. Oh well, I figure most of my readers don't follow me on tumblr. So here's my head canons both for LU and my specific story Blood Drops on Roses.

Twilight -- used to have "anger issues" when he came back from his quest as a teen that was really just him being hurt and lashing out (I already had this idea, but it evolved a lot with your fics where he gets overwhelmed @somer-writes XD). He just... feels a lot, and feels it genuinely.

Sky -- I think this guy has gone through some /trauma/ compared to the other heroes. With his sunny nature and calm disposition---I think it's borne of a greater understanding of himself and his own limits. I do kinda hate the "trauma made them stronger uwu" trope, but for Sky that's true, because he put in the work and chose to be kind after all the horrible things that happened to him. Also, he's not bad at cooking traditional Skyloftian meals, like hot drinks.

Wind -- I think that he doesn't have all the inherent qualities, especially bravery and self-sacrifice, that the others have because they were "destined to be heroes" while he was not. Now, he's learned them, sure, but I think that jumping into battle still doesn't come as easily to him as it does to some of the others. But that also comes to my HC about the Triforce and its effects on its wielder (I've also got a fun thing for Wild on that one).

Hyrule -- I think that his healing magic isn't exactly... light. A lot of people HC that his magic is fairy magic, and I think that's partially true, but for him to be able to transform and access it in human form... I think there's something else going on there. But yeah, I've changed this guy's backstory a lot, I hope I don't have the Hyrule stans coming after me XD

Legend -- I think that he's a lot more chill about Koholint and things being "not real" than a lot of other people HC. Sure, it's always there in the back of his mind, but he'd rather have helped and fought and even fallen in love and it not be real than to hold himself back from that for fear of getting hurt again, because he's tried that. Also, I think he's slotted Time into the Uncle role in his mind, but that's not really plot important (or is it?)

Time -- @needfantasticstories >:D you know what's up with this poor guy. But yeah, I HC (and I've said this before), that he and Wind met in Mario cart, sometime before this adventure for Time, and sometimes after for Wind. There's not a lot of evidence for that, I'm just making up stuff as I go. Watch out for an author's note for that on the chapters near Too Quiet I'm tryna set up a joke XD

Warrior -- I think he's so teasing of the other heroes because he wants to hold them all at arm's length. He's still a bit traumatized from being betrayed, so he keeps that charming front of his up and keeps anyone from getting too close and seeing the real him. I think even Time (or at least, what we know of him) hasn't seen that genuine side of him, at least in a while.

Four -- I can't say that I have anything unique for him, when it comes for head canons that differ from LU norms. He is good at interpersonal conflicts, I also think he's good at self-reflection and helping others through their emotions. I do think he has four people in his head at all times, but they work around each other. I kinda go on and off about whether his eyes change color. He does have blue screen moments if he's startled or confused, and the panic of needing to move suddenly or choose quickly just makes it worse.

Wild -- currently multiple emotionally stunted gremlins in a trench coat. No, I will not elaborate :D

I'm turning the question back on you @wanderlustmagician and anyone else who wants to join in---what are your head canons for the boys?

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. For the Next Fic Finder:

Looking for a time travel fic in which older WWX travels back to past Lotus Pier, the Jiang family then decides it would be better to have older xian be introduced as younger xians older brother. Older!WWX also comes with them at CR in which he befriended LXC and later NMJ and change both of their opinions regarding resentful energy.

P.S I think there was also a chapter where he went "missing" but he was just with the Dafan Wens and just really missed them in his depressed state.

FOUND! MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 87k, WWX & LWJ, YL WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma)

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2. Hello! Looking for two specific modern AU fics

A) Posted on twitter where Wei Ying kept bothering LWJ on the length of her skirt (it was a genderbend fic)

B) Posted on instagram. LWJ and WWX were both models, WWX were kidnapped and tortured at one point because of jealous Jin Zixun

Thank you in advance for the help! @hid9884

2A)

FOUND? this thread by @/3neetee

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3. Hi can you help me find a fanfic?? um wei wuxian works at a sex shop and lan wangji comes in to close it down bc his parents own it but end up falling in love where as jiang cheng works at a bar where lan xichen fall inlove w/ him and wei wuxian crazy ex (jenny I think) tries to kill him??

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4. hiii ! i’m looking for a fic where it’s set in post canon, i think, and it’s about wei changze confronting jiang cheng about everything wei wuxian went through. There was a scene where he talks about experiencing being whipped by zidian through wwx bc at his desperate times, wwx unknowingly calls for his parents and wcz was able to connect with him somehow and that’s how he saw the things that happened in wwx’s life. tysm!!! @makkachiin

FOUND! Chapter 24 of Short Prompts by Vrishchika

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5. I'm looking for a shapeshifting fic. LWJ was a rabbit and WWX a fox. LWJ ended up transforming out of stress, and bumped into WWX who took him home on his fox back and later kept visiting him. WWX was also staying in the woods and keeping things at NHS's house. I've searched through my history but I can't find it so I'm scared it's been deleted. @flaxenhairedsamurai

I don't remember what 5 is called but someone else was looking for it semi recently

FOUND! This Twitter fic by @/Zizzani

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6. I'm looking for a modern AU where the characters work in various emergency services. I remember that the first chapters focused a lot on WWX, and I *think* that later chapters switched to a focus on Meng Yao/JGY. I specifically remember a scene where WWX climbs up a stuck rollercoaster or Ferris wheel, and someone he tries to save falls and dies. He was maybe a firefighter? And LWJ was maybe an EMT?

FOUND! 🧡 Like a House on Fire by KouriArashi (T, 82k, WangXian, Modern au, Paramedics, Firefighters, Light angst, Mutual pining, Kid fic, Past drug use, Past child abuse, Families of choice, Domestic fluff)

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7. I want to find a Wangxian A/B/O fanfic It was very long and angsty about Wei Wuxian being an Omega Cultivator where they are expected to be locked up inside. It had a one-sided Jin Zixuan x Wei Wuxian and a really bad scene with Wen Chao. Its no longer in ao3 but i cant remember the author reposted it

FOUND? and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow (Prologue – Index) (E, 303k, off-screen rape, oppression, violence, sexual assault, grief/mourning, unwanted pregnancy., A/B/O)

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8. looking for a modern au fic, cant remember the title but the description on ao3 had something about a taxi driver noticing a bruise on wei ying and mentioning that the person will hurt him again. there was a suicide attempt i think, due to the jiang family abuse, and lan zhan was his neighbour!

FOUND? like a fox in tall grass by notinamillionyears, starcrushedjewels (notinamillionyears) (E, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Suicide Attempt, Drug Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors, College/University, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Anxiety Attacks, Pianist LWJ, Smoking, Trauma, Explicit Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Identity Issues, Age Difference, Power Dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, Eating Disorders, Mutual Pining, Consensual Non-Consent, Sleeping Together, Suicidal Ideation, Bipolar Disorder, implied manic depression)

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9. hello im looking for a fic where jzx asks wangxian for help and there's a cursed building? and mxy is in it or in the center of it and they rescue him. that's about all i remember sorry. appreciate any help tho ♥️

hello im the last ff anon #9. sorry but the suggestion isn't it. i distinctly remember it being a cursed building, or maybe a watch tower maybe? and mxy was inside it. wangxian are already married iirc also a bunch of jins died in that building i think? bc of the resentful energy?

hello ff anon #9 again. to answer anon's question, mxy isn't a spirit. he's alive in the fic and i think he follows wangxian after he was rescued? i appreciate all the help that's coming y'all are so cool

NOT FOUND! 9 sounds like it might be Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives au, romance, developing relationship, family, sibling bonding, light angst, politics, attempted sexual assault, some murder, people talking about their feelings, trauma processing) although the rescue is in a mine not a building

for #9, is MXY a ghost/spirit that needed liberating/sending off?

FOUND? quiet, blooming hours by Sanguis (T, 13k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern AU, Magical Realism, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Family Feels, Background Relationships, Resurrection, Adoption) Idk if #9 could be ...the house is somewhat cursed and the jins are involved but not the way anon describes. Wangxian is established though

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10. Hi, I hope you can find me find this wonderful fic where WWX used an array to make everyone forget about him. He succeeded with his plan but the people who initially knew him (JC, JFM, JYL, even Madam Yu, basically everyone) always subconsiously thinks of him like something or someone is missing in their lives. Eventually, JC, LWJ, and LXC realized that someone must've erased their memory of that person so they tried their best to undo the curse or the array.

FOUND? Remember by Amona (T, 57k, JC & WWX, wangxian, Canon Divergence, self-sacrifice, erasing oneself from history, colored souls, sword spirits, major angst w happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, minor character death, WIP)

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11. Hi, I'm searching for a modern au fic where WWX was gonna have an abortion, and LWJ offered to drive him to his appointment. He said that he'd help him because his mother had no choice or something like that. It's a one shot, I think, not much happens, appart from that.

FOUND! baby let's take the long way home by plonk (Not rated, 10k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, abortion, mpreg, with a twist, enemies to lovers)

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12. Does anyone remember that fic where lwj is a goth DJ at a bar? And wwx keeps trying to meet him or hang out with him? Lwj is ruder than usual I think. I might be mixing up two different fics but in the one I’m thinking of lwj gives wwx a ride home late at night… it’s driving me crazy- I thought I had saved it!

FOUND! The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, wangxian, modern, 1990s, goth LWJ, cellist LWJ, college student WWX, house hunting, dating, clubbing, implied/referenced past child abuse, mental health issues, academic disaster aftermath, getting together, homelessness)

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13. First of all, thank you for all your work, you're awesome!! Second, I'd like to ask for your help to find a fic. it's ABO where omegas are like really rare and sacred in the cultivation world, wwx is an omega but for some reason he hides it until it all comes out about the time he's in the burial mounds with the Wen, and that's when the sects finally believe him and take his side bc omegas always stand for what's right and true or smt. Thanks!!

FOUND! Woven fates by apathyinreverie (T, 10k, wangxian, ABO, alpha LWJ, omega WWX, fix-it, fluff, family, romance, mates) it has the "omegas always stand for what’s right and true," but wwx wasn't hiding it, he just didn't present until he felt safe and then ran into lwj again / WWX wasn't actively hiding being an omega though, but only presented while in the burial mounds.

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14. Hello i'm looking for a fic where wei ying enters a mating run on a dare(or bet) and if you survive the run you get $50,000 if lan Wanji chooses you, you get $1 million. There is also some orginized crime aspects to the fic

FOUND? Five Fifteen by 3neetee (M, 11k, wangxian, rape/non-con, ABO, modern, alpha LWJ, alpha WWX, mating runs, graphic descriptions of violence, dom/sub undertones, light bondage, implied mpreg, dark LWJ, betrayal, smut, dark lans, unreliable narrator WWX) locked

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15. Hello for the next fic finder can you please help me find a fic where Wei Wuxian loses his memories after an accident. I remember WWX and LWJ were engaged and they were going to marry and LQR hired a private investigator and the accuses WWX of cheating and everyone believes him. But it was actually WWX meeting Wen Qing to discuss adopting A-Yuan. WWX keeps it a secret because he wanted to surprise LWJ when they get married with the adoption papers. Anyways after they accuse him of cheating WWX runs out and gets hits by a vehicle and loses his memories. It was a modern AU.

Thank you for all the help you do for us. @mybestfriendisacinnamonroll​

FOUND? (Un)forgettable by Edens_Cat & VividestList (E, 67k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, modern, misunderstandings, angst w/ happy ending, kid fic, teacher WWX, single parent WWX, amnesia, protective WQ, protective LSZ, smut)

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16. Hi! I am not sure if this has been asked before but I'm looking for this fic where Lan Yuan grew up as the Jiang sect heir because Jiang Cheng got to him before Lan Zhan. I could remember there are several kids in the Burial Mounds and one of them was adopted into the Lan sect as a healer. And the rest (there were three of them ig???) were basically hiding in the Jiang sect unbeknownst to Jiang Cheng. I really really loved that fic but I can't remember much from it and I want to read it again. Thaaaaanks!!

FOUND? Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts) sounds like this one, but a-yuan is still with the Lan. The kids at the Jiang sect and the healer at the Lan sect match though

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17. I think it was very Nie Huaisang centric and short, but I can’t remember anything other than a few lines near the end where NHS was remembering that JGY hadn’t taken into account that LXC had known him since he was a kid and would trust and defend him.

The line I remember is something like “NHS remembers being passed back and forth between LXC and NMJ like a particularly beloved parcel” referring to LXC practically adopting him as a second little brother.

Thank you!

FOUND! Chapter 32 of Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) you're looking for chapter 32 of twelve moons and a fortnight by stilton basket.

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18. Hello, can you help find this fic? The back story in this fic is yzy is cheating with wcz and wwx is yzy'son with wcz. After wwx born he was cast aside and yzy pregnant with soon after with jfm as the fathet. Wcz become a rogue cultivator while raising wwx and he meet csr. In the first chapter i think wwx is kinda kicked out by bssr to make him meet with his sibling in cloud recesses and make a peace with them. I think he introduce himself as a-xian (or it is a-ying? But i think it was a-xian). I think that's all i can remember. Thank you!

FOUND! The Undesirable Son by FragranceLotion97 (G, 34k, WangXian, CQL but WWX is Madam Yu's Bastard Son, It goes differently from the beginning, WWX becomes sworn brother with lxc then becomes his in law, LWJ is still whipped, There is Yin Iron, Heavily CQL with a little mix from the novel, Adding donghua into the fandom because i decide to use a lot of things from there)

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19. For the next fic finder: can you help me find a fic where wwx falls in the lake when they’re fighting the abyss, and everyone believes he dies. Weeks (or maybe months) pass, and then he washes up on the shore of the lake, somehow still alive. I think it might have been Lan Xichen pov, and he was blaming himself for losing wwx since he was in charge of the hunt.

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20. Looking for a fic where WWX was Baoshan Sanren’s disciple (I think) and they were doing demonstrations. WWX went through all major sects’. The one I remember clearly is that the Lan style was war

FOUND! Become Tomorrow by  ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 39k, wangxian, cloud recesses study arc, BSSR's disciple WWX)

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[wortsandall]

Marc Spector- the lies we tell ourselves au

its finally his turn-let's get into it prev/next

might be late for a disclaimer but in my tlwto au posts, it's half a deep dive into the canon character and half how that will impact how they appear in my fic. I'm bringing this up specifically for marc, because I see him as a mess trying to hide that he's a mess. and that portrayal will be ramped up to 11. not because I don't think marc is traumatized enough, but because he is. and I want to see how far I can push it before that façade breaks and he has to actually confront his traumas and maladaptive behavior, rather than just continuing on like it's not happening. everyone can see that marc is affected, except for himself as he keeps going on about being fine, or his feelings not mattering because there are more important things going on. there will be no more hiding or deflections. he's going to lose that control-hence the title of the first part of the au-no control

anyway to actually start this-I realize I use this metaphor a lot but marc is an open gaping wound bleeding all over the place and onto everyone. who thinks he's not because he put a band aid on, even though that band aid is soaked through and barely covers the wound. that bandage being pretending there's nothing wrong, especially since steven hadn't fronted in awhile. allowing him to marry layla and think maybe he's over the hard part.

in my fic, marc will be more closed off, more mean, prone to being defensive and deflective. physical problems are no issue to him, it's the emotional ones that send him to the hills. I never like to think of the end of a season being the end of all problems. that any issues brought up will be fixed and they don't have to worry about it anymore. meaning that while this au takes place after the first season, marc and steven's relationship will be closer to what it's like at the beginning of season one. one good conversation isn't going to immediately fix how marc has been thinking and treating steven for the years before season one. it's a start, but nowhere close to the end. they get along better, but it's not great.

now that steven is aware of their disorder, marc will use him as another method of hiding. steven likes to talk out problems and marc does not. if steven tries, marc will tend to just abandon the conversation midway by ducking from the front. he's not interested in healthy communication and tends to default to just ignoring the issue to steven's frustration. they can have conversations that are important but if it comes any closer to things that marc has difficulty talking about, like their mother, then it's over.

this plays into the guilt he carries because he's fucking up over and over. but then he can never actually learn from the mistakes as he won't let himself. tackling his own feelings about something that happened is part of making up for it. and because he's avoidant, he can never get to that part because he doesn't want to confront the hard stuff. which ties directly into his issues with self degradation and self-hatred. everything about that can be tied straight into his childhood and how he was treated. both by his mother, and in this au, bullies and other adults who failed him. his mom instilled in him this belief that he's evil. that he's the reason bad things happen.

and with the others, being treated like there's something inherently wrong with him, something that cannot be fixed. being ostracized and looked down on. and he grow up with that and believes it to be true. in adulthood, he ends up proving his mother right (in his eyes) as he feels blame and guilt for what happened at the dig site and every death afterwards. literal proof that he hurts people and maybe that's all he's ever been good for. his dad doesn't help combat this belief, but adds to it. as he never did anything concrete to help marc, marc starts to believe that maybe he deserves it as not even his own father would help him.

out of all them he has the most attachment to being jewish, because of his dad. an attachment that comes to him in moments of distress almost as if he's still trying to get his dad to care about him just a little more. the complicated feelings of being raised jewish and genuinely believing in everything that comes with, while also trying to prove to his father that he deserves to be cared about. (doesn't make him any less jewish just having a neglectful father who is also a Rabbi might result in a little religious trauma, especially once you add khonshu to the mix)

side note: i dont think steven has an attachment either way. like he knows he was raised jewish, but is more focused on the Egyptology stuff and jake probably cares a little bit also but is more focused on the culture that comes from being latino hence speaking spanish

I've mentioned the idea of loneliness in both steven and jake posts and for marc I think he'd be used to it. in the way that he doesn't necessarily notice that he is. due to his issues in childhood he didn't have many friends. and not any that were long-lasting. self-isolation is what he's used to. the lack of validation and dealing with emotions from his parents has led to him having to self-soothe. being by himself and dealing with himself is his bread and butter.

when he meets layla, she gets the brunt of that. he wants her to love him, wants to be around her but doesn't know how. and because of that pesky self-hatred, he cannot let himself be happy. constant self-destructive behavior getting in the way. there's a fear of happiness at play as well, because he knows how quickly it can leave. that fear has been validated over and over, as the people he loves either hurts him or leaves. while also having to battle his savior complex that I think stems from failing to save randall. he couldn't save his brother, but now that he has to the ability to save others he'd be damned if he lets anyone else get hurt. even at a cost to himself.

that cost to himself is doing something that he hates over and over again, simply because he thinks it's better for everyone else. he wants to help people and wants to save them. he can do that with khonshu. he can hate himself more and more, every time he has to take a life, but if it helps then it's necessary. plus, marc should be used to killing people, he's done it since childhood. that fact being drilled into him for years, that he killed his brother. he already thinks of himself as a murderer, he's reaffirming what he already thinks.

and having khonshu and the suit adds to the guilt. because he does enjoy the safety that comes with having it. that he cannot be hurt anymore if he has it. and he can finally, actually protect himself which he was unable to do as a kid (not realizing that jake has been doing that for a long ass time)

and speaking of jake, I can imagine marc being really angry at jake for being a gatekeeper. he understands where he's coming from because he did the same to steven. he's more angry at the fact that jake has more control over what memories go where and who can front. marc has thought of himself as being the "main" so he thinks he has the more control when it comes to the disorder. which is partly true because he's known about it longer, but being the host doesn't make him more in charge than anyone else. he's mad at again having to confront that maybe he doesn't have as much control as he's always thought. don't want to get too into it as that's what no control is about.

and that aspect of being a control freak comes again from the self hatred and not thinking he deserves happiness. at least this way he can kinda control it instead of being blindsided when bad stuff happens. for example he's hesitant to name the second fish that steven got because then he might get attached and if hes attached then bad things will happen. he thinks he ruins everything he touches. which leads to the belief that his alters are better than him. nobody wants marc spector when they could have the well adjusted steven or the charming jake. at the end of the season, they no longer have khonshu. and marc sees the suit as his only defining feature. so without that, what's the point of him? we see this with him making the deal with steven to give up the front and disappear. in my au, marc tries to do this, fronting less and less and just letting steven take charge.

to talk more about au specifics, in the second part where the littles are introduced, it makes marc spiral like crazy. the anger at jake rears it's ugly head again for not knowing what the hell happened. for not knowing what's actually going on in his head. that their are aspects of himself that he doesn't know and would never know about.

because part of marc still thinks of himself as the original and doesn't yet recognize there is no original. its not marc creating these personalities or sections of himself, but a result of never fully having formed a personality/identity in the first place. marc has to come to terms with being the host but he doesn't get the most authority. everyone is equal for the most part, even if some have less autonomy i.e. the littles

for rose, I can imagine marc being kind of disturbed by her when he meets her. as rose is the youngest of them all and barely speaks. he's looking right at the fact that he doesn't know as much as he thought (and why is she a girl?) and he cant do anything for her, he cant fix it. a confrontation with his savior complex.

for leo there is an instant mutual dislike between them. but he doesn't understand where the animosity comes from. marc trying to talk to leo is like talking to a distressed feral cat. he's getting clawed even if they aren't in the same room and marc hasn't done anything. and marc lackd' the gentleness and patience that is needed to get to know those feral cats. but they learn to get along eventually and marc starts to realize it's more abt leo's own complexes than it is about marc, even though he is "at fault" for some of it.

when it comes to the parents, marc hates his mom but he also loves her as he remembers what it was like before and knowing that it didn't have to be that way, mourning both the loss of his mother and the permanent loss of his hope that things could have gone back to where they were before. even if he knows logically that was never going to happen.

meanwhile when it comes to his dad its anger. anger at the fact that his dad never did anything to stop their mom. it's hard to be anything but angry with someone who actively put you in danger and didn't try to stop it. he's thankful for the therapy (not really but it was an attempt) but that never erased the monster in the walls that he tried to excuse at every opportunity. marc thinks he's an enabler and being sad and looking sad doesn't cut it. his dad he could've tried something, anything at all to actually protect marc but didn't. and part of that enabling and neglect led to other traumas that marc doesn't know about (yet)

in conclusion, marc has a lot of complex traumas leading to extreme maladaptive behavior that he tries to ignore. but ignoring it can actively make it worse until it all explodes in his face. he cares so much. and he wants to help people but often gets in his own way. is actively the most sensitive of them all, but he cannot come to terms with that and tries to bury it. not knowing how to express vulnerability and weakness or how to open up due to how he was raised. he doesn't like hurting people, but believes it's what he's good at. wants to make up for everything that he's done but doesn't know where to start. or even if he deserves the redemption (he doesn't need redemption as he's not a villain but he doesn't understand that yet)

the lies we tell ourselves au masterpost

[thestobingirlie]

That one anon really thought they did something. Also calling Robin Steve's property is so weird because 70% of Robin's tag is about Nancy and the majority of r*nance fics are about how Robin benefits Nancy. How Nancy can overcome trauma and be saved from heterosexual relationships.

Like you said Steve wouldn't force Robin to do anything, his entire character is about making sure other characters are happy even if it's on the expense of his own happiness. If you think Robin would be bossed around by Steve you purposefully misunderstand their entire dynamic. It was literally her idea to combine with him because they are platonic soulmates. And again Steve would never tell people what to do (other than in dangerous situations when he tries to keep others save).

Robin will always choose Steve, if you want r*nance to work Steve can't exist in that universe. That or they literally have to break off their friendship because you can't have both. I lost a friend because she dated my ex. We were really close but it's one of those things you can't really get over.

Also tbh personality wise, they just don't match. The fandom also makes Nancy a lot sweeter than she actually is the show, same goes for Steve before people come for me. They overlook her flaws like the show does, so when you point out okay well she actually would behave this way in certain situations according how she behaved in canon, people will jump you and say oh no you just hate her she's actually not bad. This is especially true for stancy, the way people just overlook the fact that she emotionally cheated on Steve for a year and then slept with Jonathan while they were still together. And before people say well Tommy said they broke up, Tommy doesn't speak to Steve or Nancy anymore, he doesn't know their relationship only rumours because they had one fight. And Jonathan's and Nancy both acknowledged Steve as Nancy's boyfriend minutes before they had sex so yeah. Again, if she was a man in that instance, nobody would excuse her actions.

In the end I don't see Nancy hanging out with the people outside the whole UD business. She'll leave the town as soon as it's possible and then nobody will hear from her again. The people I see still hanging out with each other in the future are Steve and Robin because they love each other. And Steve and Dustin because they are brothers. Also Max, Lucas and Dustin will stay in touch definitely.

god, i know. they really saw that we think robin cares about her friends feelings, and equated that to steve owning robin?? and yeah so much i’ve read about r//nance is about nancy. about how robin would help nancy develop and nancy needs to explore her sexuality. like… i hate any ship where one character is forced to play therapist for their partner.

if either of them is bossing around the other, it is robin bossing around steve, he literally drives her to school every day not even knowing she doesn’t have a licence. and yeah, steve is the kind of character who continuously does stuff he doesn’t really want to do to try and protect his friends.

sucks that that happened to you, but yeah, it just isn’t something you can get past. i do think it’s because steve is a guy that they have less empathy for him when it comes to his love life. nancy and he broke up just a little over a year ago. if it was a couple decades down the line it might be different (though i kinda doubt it), but even so, robin will always choose steve. like you said, they’re soulmates. in order for r//nance to work, steve literally needs to not exist (though if steve doesn’t exist, robin and nancy would have literally nothing to talk about.

i totally agree that people try to rewrite nancy to make her mesh better with other characters, honestly the st fandom does it with nearly every single character. babygirl steve, for example. people try to rewrite that he’s bitchy, he lashes out when he feels shoved into a corner (though always apologises), they make him super feminine and weak, when steve is probably one of the most masculine characters on the show. and yes! it’s insane how if you even dare to slightly criticise nancy, you hate her, you’re a misogynist, like please! you can love a character and recognise they have flaws!

i find it so funny when people point to billy and tommy making fun of steve as proof they’d broken up. like tommy is the authority on their relationship? especially because, like you said, half an hour before she has sex with jonathan, she is adamant she is in love with steve. if they’d broken up, why would she do that? but yeah, steve being the guy means people try to excuse everything nancy did wrong in that relationship.

totally agree. like, hawkins is the centre of everything that went wrong in nancy’s life. and it’s like, so many people say steve and nancy could never be together, because he reminds her of her trauma with barb’s death, and if that’s true, then i doubt nancy will want anything to do with any of them. and yeah, the only people not blood related that i really see being engaged in each others lives (other than occasionally reunions and stuff) is steve and robin, and then the party. obviously with steve staying in contact with max, dustin and lucas, specifically (in my dream version of stranger things where hopper and steve have a, like, fatherly relationship, they’d stay in touch, but that’s not canon lol).

also, i kinda see nancy becoming a murray kind of reporter, so she can’t really keep in contact when she’s breaking into government facilities and revealing all their secrets.

anyway, totally agree with all your points, and i’m so tired of getting told i hate nancy because i dare to point out that she isn’t a great girlfriend

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 20

Part 1 | Part 19 | Part 21 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Before reading this chapter, please take the time to read the notes below

Hi 👋

I dont normally put warnings on this fic, because generally speaking its fluffy, funny, romantic and sweet, right? However this next chapter is why I started writing this story in the first place. It was always going to end up here. Its the reason the story is set when it is, and where the foreshadowing has been leading to. It was to explore something that has been on my mind since season 1 of the show. How that kind of trauma, gets brushed under the carpet, by some characters.

I dont want to spoiler this chapter or next few too much, but its a tough time, right from the first few lines.

I can however assure you that the eventual ending of this story will be happy (I wrote one fic with an unhappy ending and I dont think, I'll ever do that again, because i'm a sensitive little soul. I love that other people write things like that, its just not something that I want to do write now. Not to these versions of these characters).

I'm going to write this in such a way that, when we eventually get back to the sweet stuff, you wouldnt have had to read these less happy chapters to carry on. This is just in support of all the readers that dont enjoy the sad stuff. I have days like that too :)

So the main warnings here are:

Hospital setting

Mention of someone passing away

References to past trauma

Vague references to very real world events that happened in 2001

Vague mention of potential school incident

Canon-typical violence

Canon-typical horror

Canon-typical threat

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mightbeasleep, @jewellthebooknerd, @fentiibratzz @rvllybllply2014

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Steve pushes the hospital tray of food away from him as his eyes fill with tears again.

"Anything?" He asks, his voice trembling to a concerned and solemn-looking Jenny. She shakes her head and closes her eyes regretfully.

"No, Steve. I'm sorry." She says sadly. She pushes the food tray back towards him, "Please, just something, alright? The kids will ask. Don't make me lie to them, ok?" He can hear the pleading in her voice, and the guilt washes over him. He had to keep it together and try not to be selfish about this. After all, this was his fault. 

He picks up the spoon and moves the food around a little before selecting a spoonful to eat, the pads are stuck to his chest, and the wires shift uncomfortably as he sits up a little more in an attempt to be an adult about this. He just had to accept it and move on. For a while there, he had everything, but his luck had finally run out.

He looks up at Jenny momentarily, "Sorry," he says genuinely, but shame won't let him keep eye contact, "You shouldn't be here. You should be at home resting."

"Yeah, well, if the shoe was on the other foot, Steve, I know you'd be here too. Right by my side. You're not just the father of my children. You're one of my best friends. No way, I'd let you deal with this alone." She says, reaching forward and rubbing his arm.

Steve's lip trembles, "I'm so sorry!" He blurts out before covering his mouth to quieten the sobs that erupt from him. Uncontrollable, breathtaking, painful sobs until he's crying so hard he can't see.

"Steve, it's ok. I understand. We all understand, ok? Everything went to shit yesterday for everyone, not just you. Just...your problems, well, they landed you here. That's all." She tries to reassure him, swallowing nervously. He can tell by the look on her face she pities him.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I shouldn't have done those things. What's wrong with me? I've ruined everything, Jen! Everything!!" Steve has felt sadness many times in his life, but he's not sure if his emotional problems are manifesting his sorrow into actual physical pain. His body hurts from crying so hard and for so long. Since he woke up, the only time he hadn't cried was when his kids were in there. He still had enough grit to keep it together around them.

"You don't know that, Steve." She tries to console him, but he can see her holding back her tears. As he scans her face, he wonders if she was sad to see him finally broken like this, or was it because she knew the pain of accepting something you gripped onto so tightly was rapidly slipping out of your hands, and you had no way to stop it? Not now. Steve feels the frustration build up in him. If everything was gonna be ok, Eddie would be here. He'd be right here next to him, but he wasn't. There was just a loud empty space where Eddie should be, and it taunted Steve with the fact he made it empty.

"Then why isn't he here?!" Steve yells at the other empty seats in the room before crumbling again. "Why isn't he here?" He says more softly before another torrent of tears and sobs wash over him, and he hides his face in his hands. His heart hurts. Though it may as well not be there at all.

"Steve, you need to try and keep calm, alright? If not for your own sake, for mine, and for the kids. We can't lose you. We need you here, ok? I can only imagine how scary this all is, but we don't know, ok. I appreciate that's not super helpful, but it's better than it definitely being the worst-case scenario, right?" She tries again, and Steve hangs his head, wiping away his tears.

"Sorry." He says again.

"Listen, stop that. Stop apologising. You've said sorry so many times now, Steve. I forgive you. We all do." She says, patting his hand."In all the years we've known one another, even when we were really struggling, you never, ever raised your voice to me like that. Not once. I should have known then. I should have sent Val over when that happened, but I was such a mess too, Steve. I didn't know what to do."

Steve manages to calm down a little and look into her eyes, speaking softly, “Jen, please, this is not your fault, ok?” He swallows the lump in his throat, “Like, I know worse things are happening in the world. Things that make no sense. Someone running out on me because I did something so awful, at least that seems reasonable. It’s just hard right now, but I’ll get over it.” Jenny leans over and clasps his hand in both of hers.

“Someone? He’s not just someone. We don’t even know if he ran out for sure, though, Steve. Yeah, he sounded scared, but that could have been for a million different reasons for him yesterday, ok?” Steve shakes his head. He appreciates her trying, but he knows the terror he saw on Eddie’s face. He’s seen it before, fifteen years ago—pure fear. Jenny’s shoulders sink, she tilts her head, and her expression falls to sadness, “You’d give up. Just like that?” She asks, her voice cracking a little.

Steve looks down at the wires on his chest to avoid her eyes. He didn’t want to give up. He’d follow Eddie to the ends of the earth if he had to, but not under these circumstances, not when he would be…unwanted.

He pulls his hand from hers and gently pats her, “You need to rest, Jen. This is too much for you. I’d feel better if you just went home, ok?” She shakes her head defiantly with a sweet frown. “You want me to feel even worse than I do right now? What if this all makes you stressed out and sick, huh? You want that on my conscious too?” Steve puts on fake air of annoyance. He’s not mad with her, not at all, but he just wanted to be on his own for a while. “I’m fine. Look at me. I’m all plugged in!” Steve says, gesturing at the machines, widening his eyes at her in an irritated stare. Searching her eyes, he knows she isn’t really buying his performance, but she respects his wishes.

Jenny reaches into her bag and pulls out a cell phone, “Look, I know you can't use that in here, and the phone lines are still messed up, but if anything, Steve, just call or message me, or Val, or whoever.” She passes it over to him. “It’s not exactly the same phone, but the guy in the shop managed to get your old sim card in this one, so it's got all your old numbers and messages.” She gives him a smile that reads half hopeful, half pity and turns to leave. Steve puts the phone face down on the tray in front of him. It wasn’t even on, but just knowing that messages from Eddie were in there was almost too much. Like he was afraid, they would magically appear on the screen to taunt him and twist the daggers littering his heart. Jenny stops just before the door and turns back to him, “Don’t give up, Steve. Not until you know for sure. That's not you.” She gives him a final last smile and leaves.

Steve slumps back against the pillows,  he tries to focus on the TV in his room, but it is doing little to help him. His vision blurs as if he is looking beyond the screen, and his mind plunges him back into yesterday. He should fight it, but he almost wants it. He wants to feel that pain again because it's what he deserves. Let it feast on him so the hurt could drown out the shame. It couldn’t be anywhere close to the amount of pain his betrayal caused Eddie and Jenny yesterday.

In the early hours of Tuesday morning, Eddie had got a call from one of Jack's kids letting him know Jack had sadly passed away, and Eddie being who he is, had elected to go to be at Wayne's side immediately. Wayne had told him emphatically not to do that. He told him to give him a few hours to sort things out. Steve knew it was because he needed Eddie to calm down and wake up before he drove over there, and honestly, Eddie was going through a kaleidoscope of emotions. He was mad he had to hear it from the kids. He was frustrated Wayne had told him not to go. He was sad to have lost Jack, but he was also relieved that Jack was not suffering anymore, which filled him with guilt.

With the kids at Jenny's, there was no hurry to get them ready for school, so Steve took that time to soothe Eddie a little, make him feel good, and feel cared for, and once Eddie was back to a place where he wasn't pinballing between in his emotions, Steve made him breakfast and suggested maybe he go into work, make sure they can survive a week or so without him, and then collect Wayne and bring him back to theirs. He could have a guest room or the RV. There was lots of space, and they'd figure out something when the kids returned on Sunday. Eddie looked at him so softly with those big soulful eyes and smiled, "I'm so lucky to have you, babe." And Steve wishes that that had been the last time he'd seen Eddie that day. So he could have stayed Eddie's own personal Superman.

To save overly fretting, Steve had taken Beans for a long walk, mainly to kill time and to just breathe in the cool autumn air. He thought it might alleviate his own sorrows. He imagined how Wayne would feel right at that moment, he had already lost Jack in one way, but now he was gone, never to return. No mystical, time-altering, alternate dimension that he could return from, no time for him to get better and come home. He was gone, and nothing anyone could do could change that. There would be no second chance for Wayne and Jack. He selfishly turns the situation into his own. And at the mere possibility of one element of that happening to him and Eddie, an uncomfortable lump of emotion settled into his throat, his stomach swirled with nausea, and he felt his eyes brim with tears.

He pauses for a moment.

Initially, the walk through the reddening leaved trees did help, and everything seemed it would be ok until it suddenly wasn't. They were still fairly deep in the woods when they could hear sirens and the screeching of tires. As they emerge back into the neighbourhood, Steve notices a difference in Beans. She was tense and pulling on the lead, which wasn't her at all. She strained towards the first house, not entirely forcing Steve over there, which she could have done relatively easily. She was so strong.

Steve would never usually look into someone's house, but Bean's level of concern worried him. In the first house, he saw a man and woman holding one another tightly, their faces etched with something between fear and sorrow. Having assessed no one was in danger, Steve feels he's stumbled upon someone's personal tragedy and quickly pulls Beans away and continues the walk home, but then more things start to develop around him. Audible sobbing came from other open windows he'd passed. One of the bigger houses lowers its patriotic flag, and the thing that kicks Steve into a thunderous run home is when he overhears a woman shout to her husband, who had his hands to his head in the yard, "I can't get through. I can't get through to the kids". He rushes past the house and pulls out his cell. He tries to call Jenny. Busy tone. He tries to call Val. The line doesn't even ring. He tries to call Eddie, but it's more of the same.

Even in his top-speed run, it takes them another twenty minutes or so to get home. He is sweating heavily from the run, but simultaneously, an ice-cold chill runs up his spine. As he bursts through the front door, he dumps his keys and Bean's leash. He doesn't even remove it and heads straight to the phone, not even closing the door. He tries everyone again, but he can't get through.

Steve feels his already thudding heart begin to speed up with panic, his breathing shallower. He keeps trying on the phone, and a million terrible scenarios run through his head. What would affect everyone around here? Why was that woman shouting about her kids? It's gotta be a school incident. The thought of which soon has panic is swirling his stomach, forming a lump in his throat, tears he refuses to shed forming and stinging his eyes. Not my kids. Please, god, not my kids. He prayed wordlessly to whoever or whatever was listening.

Then it finally happens the phone line rings.

"Hello?" He says, trying to hide his panic.

"Oh god, Steve! Oh god!" Jenny's hysterical voice comes over the phone. No, no. Please, god, no. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself for a horror worse than he's ever felt.

"Jenny, listen to me. I need you to calm down. Tell me what's going on, ok?" Steve desperately tries to hold it together, his mind a rapid slide show of his children's faces, as he grips tightly onto the back of the chair.

"It all just happened so fast. First, there was one, and then whilst they were showing it another, and now…" she breaks down again, and Steve can't take this any more. A frustrated rage begins to swell up in him like a tidal wave about to crash down on the nearest bystander.

"Jenny!" He yells aggressively down the phone, "Where the fuck are my kids?! Where are they?!" There is a silence that must last two seconds, if that, but it feels like forever. 

When she replies, her voice still tearful but quieter and with a tone of realisation, "Val's gone to get our kids, Steve."

"Why is Val fucking going there to get my kids?! You call me!! Me, Jenny! Fucking Me. Ok?! " Steve pokes himself in the chest roughly. "I protect them! Me!" He feels a sting of pain in his arm and chest, and he has to wipe the beads of sweat from his brow.

"Steve," she says in a severe tone, "The kids aren't in danger. We just wanted to get them out of school and home." The words ring through his head, and his body folds into the nearest chair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, instantly regretting his outburst.

"I thought…I just…Fuck...I thought something bad had happened. I panicked." He tries more calmly, but it's not an apology.

Jenny's sobs start up again, "Something awful has happened, Steve, but we're all ok, but…um…turn on the TV, Steve. I'm sorry" The panic starts to rise in Steve again. Was it Eddie, is he hurt? No, no. That wouldn't affect everyone in the neighbourhood unless it was some kind of tragic massive collision. Eddie should be at work or on his way to see Wayne. The thundering in his chest starts up again, and now he has the searing pain of indigestion, possibly from all that running. "Don't put the phone down, Steve. I'm right here, ok?" She tries to calm him through her waves of emotion.

Steve pulls the phone as far as he can into the next room to see the TV. He grabs the remote and switches the TV on. The sight that met his eyes was unbelievable. He double-checks the corner of his screen to see that he hasn't stumbled upon a movie. He flicks through the news stations, and it's all the same view. A view he knows well. A view he's seen from one of his Dad's offices a few times. A view where something should be that isn't. A snowfall that wasn't snow at all. Billowing smoke of grey and black engulfed the streets and sky. Standing with his eyes and mouth wide open, he whispers into the handset, "Jesus Christ," and the cell phone in his pocket rings. He answers it quickly, and his eyes flick back to the screen.

"Oh my god, babe, are you alright? I've been trying to get through for ages now!" Eddie's voice crackles down the line. Steve opens his mouth to reply, but everything rushing at him is terrifying. Not even Eddie's voice brings him comfort. Not only is it distorted by the phone line, but it is riddled with panic. The second of respite he does get is just knowing Eddie is still in the world. Not that he was anywhere near all of this.

"Steve? Can you hear me? This fucking piece of shit phone, I swear to Christ!! Steve? Baby? Can you hear me? Are you ok?" His voice of desperation and frustration surges down the phone into Steve's ear and breaks him out of his stupor.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. All good. Kids are on their way to Jenny and Val's. I…I just…uh…" Steve puts on his mask, but the visuals from the TV start looking different. More vivid. He swears he sees a lightning flash.

"Ok…" Eddie didn't sound like he was buying it, "You've got Beans there with you, right, honey?" Eddie says, but his voice is fading. As Steve cautiously approaches the TV, the smoke spreads out, almost like it's one of those 3D movies.

"Yeah…Beans is here," Steve says in a distracted, quiet voice, without looking, but suddenly he can feel her pawing at him and shoving him with her nose.

"Steve?" Eddie asks again, and Beans starts barking, "Ok, listen. I'm gonna need you to turn off the TV and hold tight until I get back, ok. I've just left work to go get Wayne, and once I've got him, I'll come straight to you, ok, babe?" Steve nods to respond, "Can you do that, Steve? Just turn it off, ok? I don't think it's a good idea to be watching it on your own." 

Steve can hear his words perfectly well this time, even if he is a little far away sounding. "Uh-huh. I will…I just…" Beans' barking is getting louder and more insistent. It's starting to irritate him because it's overloading his senses. "Hold on a second." Steve's eyes, still trained on the TV, ushers Beans out of the door and shuts it."Sorry, I will. I'll turn it off, sure," he lies. Something about the disaster on screen was pulling him in.

That's when the channel switching starts.

Eddie's voice falls away from him entirely as the smoke seems to drop out of the screen into his living room in tall plumes. He looks around like being surrounded by a three-sixty version of the window from Hawkins High School. When he saw those impossibly tall chimneys of smoke for the first time. When the Upside Down started spilling into their world, along the cracks in the ground, making way for otherworldly horrors to traverse into Hawkins.

The panoramic window falls away from his sight, and he gingerly reaches out towards the smoke. Black and grey particles fall gently in the spaces in between. Looking around, he feels like he is in some horrific snow globe, and it's not long before something gives it all a shake, and Steve falls to the floor, bumping his head a little on the table. As he stands and brushes himself down, he realises he's not in his walking gear anymore. Instead, he's fitted with protective clothing decorated with weapons.

His living room is gone. The ground under his feet is cold and hard. A multitude of roars fill his ears in the distance. His breathing is panicked, the coat buckles across his chest and his arms tighten hard with a squeeze. 

Then the vines come, they creep along the floor towards him, up and over him, rapidly wrapping around him until he can see nothing and can only feel the tightness around his body as he yells to be released, but soon a vine clamps over his mouth to put a stop to that also. He's being dragged somewhere he can't see, and as the vines begin to release and open, he hears a swooping and screeching and soon his scars sear with incredible pain as the demo bats descend on him, tearing into his flesh. He waits to meet his demise. Waits for the tail to wrap around his neck, but this time, he is alone. No friends in sight. No rescue at the last second. However, it doesn't come. Instead, he is outside the Creel house. The vines and bats disperse, allowing him to get to his feet outside the door. He knows what is beyond. He has to destroy him this time. For his friends. For his family. For everyone, even himself. He reaches behind to grip his bat or axe, but his hand meets air. The weapons that littered his outfit are gone. 

Steve looks over his shoulder, and for a moment, he thinks about it. Running. He can't beat this man, this monster, unarmed, with no powers, but he has to try. He can't let this apocalyptic nightmare leave this place. He has to stop it. He has to protect his children. This can't be their reality. He has to keep them safe.

Steve rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath, stepping forward. The doors and windows get sucked and snapped backwards inside the house. He peers into the darkness placing his foot on the stairs. The darkness moves, curves and warps, and thousands of spiders spill out of the empty frames of the house. Despite how scared he is, the spiders don't bother him at all. They leave the house in droves, a purpose only they know and as they pass him, they combine together and grow in size. Great hulking, demonic versions of themselves striding into the dark plumes of smoke, no doubt to destroy the world beyond. Back Home.

He turns his attention back to the doorway, steels himself and barges through. He knows where he has to go, the attic. With the vines missing this time, his ascent is more straightforward, but not without moments of trouble. When his boot gets stuck on one of the stairs when the house starts shaking, and some debris from above him comes crashing down but narrowly misses him. The demodogs that jump out at him but seem preoccupied with making noise, warped whimpers, and leaving the house rather than attacking him.

As he rounds the last few stairs, he reaches out and grabs a tall floor lamp. He wields it like his trusty baseball bat, and his heart is fiercely pounding in his chest, the sweat is pumping out of him, and his clothing pulls painfully tight against him again. 

He sees before him, Vecna. Held aloft by his vines. Eyes closed, focused on something else. Steve closes his eyes too for a moment, a last look at his loved ones. This could be the end of everything. His last chance to see them, to remember them. His mind swims with the faces of his friends from before and his friends now. The smiling faces of those closest to him now, Val, Jenny, Eddie and last of all, Mackenzie and Corey, laughter etched in their faces, and it rings in his ears like they are right there with him. 

He swallows the emotion down and uses it to fuel the fire within himself. He'd end this evil monster or die trying. He screws up his face in a deep frown, draws back the lamp and, with a roar, charges headlong at Vecna to take a swing.

Time slows, and inches from contact, the lamp is frozen in space and time, and a monstrous voice echoes around him. "Steve, what do you think you are doing?" Vecna's eyes open suddenly the lamp flies out of Steve's hands into the darkness and out of his reach. Steve scrambles around for something, anything, but he has nothing, only himself. 

The vines plugged into Vecna detach and wrap around Steve, "I had to come back for you," Vecna sneers at him mockingly as he stalks towards him, his distorted hand outstretched.

"I won't let you win!" Steve rages, "I won't. I'd rather die!"

"Look at me, Steve," Vecna replies, his eyes boring into Steve's. "Please, look around. Look at what you are doing." He growls as the vines tighten around him, and the disproportionate hand stretches over Steve's head. "Come back to me, Steve. Where you belong."

A second wind, a last-ditch attempt, some forgotten rage within him, ignites, and with all his might, Steve breaks free of the vines around him and shoves Vecna backwards. Once he's stumbling back, Steve grabs hold of him and charges with him into the wall. Slams him against it.

"I will end you. I am going to stop your evil before it spreads. I won't let you hurt them. I protect them! Me! I won't let you hurt them." He thuds him against the wall again, "Even if all I have to help me do it are my fists!" he yells. He quickly presses his forearm against the evil being's throat and draws back his other fist. He swears to himself then and there that he won't stop until Vecna is dead and gone and everyone he loves is safe again.

"Steve," is all Vecna says as Steve lands the first blow, which misses him somehow, and Steve's fist hits the wall to the side of his head. Frustration wells up in him as he feels the monster of a man pushing back against him. Writhing and grabbing at him desperately. He knows he has him now. He can do this. He can stop all of this. Steve pulls back his fist again, which is throbbing already from the impact of the wall, and just before he sends it forward, he feels a pinch in his side.

Steve blinks a few times, and the channel flickers, something familiar comes into view again. He thinks he can see his wallpaper. Steve shakes his head. It's just one of his mind games.

"Steve, please!" The dark wizard beseeches him, and Steve sees his expression change, no longer an intimidating sneer or cold stare but one of fear. He looks closer, and the shape of his eyes changes, rounder, softer, darker somehow. "You don't have to do this, Steve!" he chokes out; this time, his distorted voice was intertwined with something else.

Steve blinks a few more times, frozen in place. Not easing up, but also not throwing the readied blow he has hanging in the air. Then something totally bizarre happens. The house shakes again, but everything starts to dissolve. The old wooden lined walls melt away to reveal his wallpaper and his windows. The floorboards beneath him no longer crumbling but carpeted. His heart still beating impossibly fast, pain surging through his arms and chest. Steve raises his eyes to Vecna, only to not see him at all but to see Eddie.

Eddie's eyes are wide open, his face purpling, pure fear etched into it. His hands clutching at the forearm cutting off his air supply. Next to his head is a hole in the wall, and Steve's arm is still firmly pressed into his throat.

"Oh god." Steve's voice whispers in a tremble of terrible realisation, "What have I done?" He tries to say, but it's garbled. He looks around frantically and immediately releases Eddie.

The pain stabs into him again, shooting up his arm, and the last thing he remembers is clutching his chest and Eddie stumbling out of the front door. 

Then it's just nothing. 

Then he woke up here.

He slumps forward again, head in his hands, and he lets the tears overwhelm him and flow as free as they'd like. No one was here to see it. Finally, he looks up at the ceiling and releases a guttural wail of remorse. Grieving what he had only yesterday, right there in the palm of his hand, he had everything he could wish for, and now in its place, a crumbling pile of bitter ashes. 

His mind lets him go back to that fortuitous meeting at the library, and then it's a sped-up movie of them rekindling something. Something he didn't even know was anything more than an unrequited crush but blossomed into something beyond his expectation, and all he had to do was tend it, keep it alive. The magic was in the people around him. Steve reasons because he is broken. He failed again. Just like he failed with Jenny. He'd always fail at this, yet again, he'd pulled the people he cared most about down with him.

As his mind cycles through every step of him and Eddie falling in love, it cruelly shows him all the tenderness, the looks, the words, the touches, the kisses, the laughter, the desperately intimate moments. His own brain mocks him torturously with all the things he'd never have again now. This is what you could have had, Steve, but you're just too messed up. You don't deserve this. You're worthless. A stain on your family name, just like your Dad said.

How could he have fucked so much up so quickly? In a matter of hours. Sure, he hadn't meant to hurt or scare Eddie, he'd never want to do that, not ever, but it still didn't take away the fact he had. All because he was so screwed up in the head. Eddie had only asked recently about getting some medical treatment and if Steve had just done it. Just booked it. Just gone to see someone as soon as he could. Maybe none of this would have happened. None of that mattered now. How could Eddie ever trust him again after that? He'd betrayed him in the worst possible way. He couldn't see it was him, blinded by hallucinations. All he could think about was looking at it from Eddie's point of view. 

Eddie would have seen the person he loved and trusted blindly taking a swing at him, not recognising him, like he'd forgotten him, and then hurt him. Eddie's fearful eyes flash into Steve's mind repeatedly, each time zooming in a little closer until he could see the tears balanced on his lashes. 

Full of self-loathing, Steve wishes he could wipe his mind of this again. He had no idea what to do. Was apologising really good enough? There is no way it could ever make up for that.

A knock at the door interrupts his downward spiral, and he quickly wipes his eyes. 

"Mr Harrington? May I come in?" the voice of the nurse rings out.

"Yeah, sure," he says quickly with a slight sniffle as the nurse enters the room. His smile is a comfort. Steve isn't sure how much he knows. He approaches the bed.

"How are we doing, sir? Any pain, headaches or anything else?" he asks gently whilst observing the monitors and making notes on his clipboard.

"No, well, nothing unexpected. I have a bruise on my head and my hand, I think." Steve says solemnly, and the nurse closes the clipboard, turning to him.

"Anything else you wanna mention? We're only here to help," he says kindly, a pitying look on his face, "We don't just treat physical things, you know?" Steve nods and realises he knows.

"Yeah, I think I need that help, I'm not sure exactly what I need, but I need something. But er, with everything going on," Steve gestures at the TV, "I imagine I'm pretty low down the list of priorities, so maybe I can get some information on places I can stay for a while. You know…" he chokes back a sob, choosing his words carefully, "Where I can't scare anyone?" The nurse leans into his view.

"Hey, what happened must have been terrifying for you, but it was such a lot for so many people. You aren't alone, ok? Other people had reactions to everything that happened too. Every fourth of July, we have people come in, you know? The loud bangs and flashes affect some of the older veterans too. Having said that, I will ask for some information to be brought to you. So at least it's one less thing on your mind." He smiles warmly at Steve, "Things are going to be ok. You're recovering much better than we expected. Despite what happened, your heart…it's very strong."

Steve would smile back, but it would be fake, so he nods and looks back down at his bruised knuckles.

"Also, Mr Harrington, I know you said you only wanted to see family, but I've got two people in the waiting area. One is threatening us with legal action, and the other is scaring the other patients by listing and detailing phobias. I thought I recognised her from somewhere, but it was ridiculous. She looks like that director. I've forgotten the name now." The nurse screws up their face trying to remember.

Steve's eyes widen, and for the first time since he woke up, he feels something that isn’t doused in regret. He replies excitedly, "Yeah, yeah! Please. Send them in." Then he looks down at himself, "Would you mind helping me be a bit more visit-ready first?" The nurse beams at Steve and assists.

A few minutes later, Steve can hear footsteps running down the corridor, the squeak of sneakers and another knock at the door.

"Come in", he says, filled with nervous energy.

A head pops round the door, "Hey, Dingus! Having hospital fun without us? Rude!!"

[shootingstarpilot]

Hello from TheRedScreech! I'm writing a post-Melidaan/Tarre Vizsla travels into the future fic (Chapter 1 is here), and I'm wondering what your thoughts might be on a PTSD 14-yr-old Obi-Wan? He has returned to the Temple on Coruscant, and I'm thinking being surrounded by "Elders" is a biggie, nodding to your chapter about Obi-Wan and Dexxter and "There were no Besalisks on Melidaan". Quin and Friends will help him out a lot here and Obi-Wan can only be taken care of by non-Human healers like Vokara, but I'm also wondering what else might be prevalent at this point in his recovery?

Thank you! And I hope you're keeping well with all your life's big changes.

Hello Red!

This is 100% going to be explored a LOT more in the next fic in StS, so I'll probably end up coming back to this, but here are my initial thoughts (standard disclaimer that I am not a psychologist and have done exactly zero research):

Swinging between clinging and hostility. A fear that Qui-Gon/ [trusted adult] will abandon him again, and so he's- consciously or not- trying to get ahead of the game, trying to make them abandon him, because if he gets rid of them first then they can't leave him when he's not expecting it.

I've definitely already touched on this, but the way I see it, he'd have an extreme aversion to medical treatment in any sort of formal setting. He's just spent x amount of time (in my 'verse it's a year, but I genuinely have no idea how long it is in JA canon) in a very high-stress situation without the supplies to deal with injuries. Any injuries, he either tries to patch up himself, or just forgoes dealing with them altogether- after all, he can still stand, he can still move, he can still fight, so he's fine, he's fine, he doesn't need help. He's still operating under wartime scarcity rules.

Staying under things. Avoiding open spaces. In the same way that children who live in places where bombings via drone are common prefer cloudy skies because that means the drones can't fly, I think that Obi-Wan would have a similar reaction because of the constant threat of bombardments. Ducking under things when he's frightened. Sleeping under the bed or in the bathtub. Somewhere more enclosed, you know?

Again, something that I've already touched on: a reluctance to eat food that either isn't sealed or that he hasn't helped prepare himself. It could have been tampered with, it could be spoiled, and he can't tell--

Something else relating to his relationship with his surroundings: always needing something at his back. Not being able to sleep without someone keeping watch.

Also, I do like the thought that he keeps forgetting his lightsaber. He's just waged a whole war without it. I like the idea that he... kind of forgets that it's a weapon he can count on again, you know?

Wildly protective of his friends his age and younger kids, lashing out at adults around them-- even though the adults are people his friends trusts. Like lashing out at Master Tholme if he gets too close to Quinlan.

Oh, nearly forgot about this one-- keeping his hair short. Long hair can be grabbed. In my mind, all of the Young keep their hair cut short, even twenty years later. Long hair is a tactical disadvantage. In StS, Obi-Wan grew out his hair once he was knighted, trying to move past everything, trying to prove he's better- and then the war started up again, and old habits reasserted themselves. (Then, of course, Dooku happened...)

These are a few situation-specific ideas that I had, but there are, of course, plenty of ways you can explore other manifestations of symptoms of PTSD- insomnia/ nightmares, intrusive thoughts, apathy, depression, psychosomatic pain, an inability to enjoy situations you'd enjoyed pre-trauma...

I will be back with more ideas, but I hope these provide some fodder for you to start! Feel free to message me if you want to chat more about this, I do love putting Obi-Wan through the wringer >:) and best of luck with your fic!!

[haejjoon]

AHHHHHHHH this is a bit late but i just have to say that i love your blog so much??? The fic? Emaculate. The fanart? Spectacular. The discussion and points brought up? Scratches that itch in my brain.

And god that new chapter was amazing like the changing clothes scene? Amazing. Its such a cool way of adding Lore tm to the outfit mechanic in game (i wish everyday that goro had a swimsuit outfit for me to equip :")) Ann casually being a firebender? Stunning. That sojiro and goro scene? Broke my fucking heart. I can't thank you enough for the brainworms you have fed me i feel like you characterised both coffee dad and pancake son so well. The whole goro lashing out and when it doesn't go the way it normally goes and he starts panicking due to someone actually fucking caring for him? Broke my heart, hit close to home. And i love how you wrote sojiro as well??? Like a sojiro who really is so kind and caring but has regrets and mistakes but still tries his damn hardest to care for people who need it the most? Idk man i love sojiro's character and his confidant story like it made him a character whom i actually would love to just have a coffee and chat with in real life anyways wonderful amazing job

(Also how is the akira confidant gonna go? Are the boys still going to get their homoerotic weirdly domestic trauma dumping bath scene 👀)

AW HELLO!! WELCOME TO BRAINWORM HELL i'm glad you like my work so much i hide my face in my hands <3

the changing clothes scene was so fun for me to write. actually--originally, it was supposed to be ann changing her metaverse outfit altogether (since she's clearly shown to be uncomfortable in her current one) and i was just going to leave it at that, but... it felt like i'd be pandering, if that makes sense? i want every lore change in ex machina to feel like it's Important, like it really matters. if i started changing things just because i wanted to willy nilly it'd quickly devolve into an entirely different story altogether. (rest assured though ann Will have an outfit change, it'll just be at the right moment + right explanation)

ann being a firebender is such a neat way to put it actually HELP the most she can do right now is summon fire to her palms--she's kind of like a human lighter, if that makes sense? she can individually set her fingers and her entire hand on fire if she concentrates, but she can't throw it around like zuko might in atla (.. not yet, anyway).

i'm glad you liked the sojiro scene. it's one i'll always keep near and dear to my heart. i'm aware that ex machina isn't... an easy read, by any means, considering how little it sugarcoats the issues brought forth in p5's plot, but i don't want it to be an easy read. i want people to consume it and take time to digest it. if they want something more lighthearted this isn't it--though i'm sure i'll end up writing something sillier in the future. (been playing around with a no powers/college university au in my head, it isn't the most inspired but shenanigans r cute...)

sojiro, at his core, is a kind man. i read it somewhere on tumblr or twitter, but it's very telling that out of all the social stats you can build when hanging out with him, it's kindness. logically, proficiency makes more sense--you're learning the tools of the trade, you're building a skillset that'll no doubt serve you well into the future--but you get kindness. because sojiro sakura is a kind, kind man. it's important, and it must be established clearly. i'm glad i executed it well enough <3

(HAH OF COURSE THEY'LL GET THEIR BATH SCENE. making it my personal mission to make every hangout even more homoerotic than canon already depicts--i don't know if you saw it underneath the absolute ocean of asks littering my page, but i drew out their rank 1 hangout + their subsequent call. it was a lot of fun. check it out if you haven't <3)

as always, thank you for such a lovely conversation. seriously, what a way to kick off my morning. i'm gna be in such a good mood for the rest of the day--i hope you have a great one, as well!

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

My M*A*S*H Fic Olympics Contributions

Hello!! I thought I’d link the pieces that I wrote for the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics that ended on Monday. I didn’t get to do all 7 days, but I got 5, so I’m super proud! Links and brief summaries below!

Day 2: Weather

Title: When It Rains, It Pours

Pairing: Gen, Hawkeye & BJ, Charles & BJ

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,129

Status: Complete

Day 3: Horror

Title: Blood in the Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort, trauma response, blood and gore

Word Count: 2,159

Status: 1/2 Chapters

Day 4: Orange

Title: Shades of Amber, Heart of Gold

Pairing: Gen, Max Klinger & Kellye

Prominent Tag(s): POV Max Klinger, One-sided Attraction, Colour Theory

Word Count: 362

Status: Complete

Day 6: Injury

Title: God, Keep My Head Above Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): Deaf Character, Hearing Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 3,766

Status: Chapter 1/?

Day 7: Secrets

Title: Halfway Between

Pairing: Gen, Radar O’Reilly & Max Klinger, Radar O’Reilly & Henry Blake

Prominent Tag(s): s03ep24 Abyssinia Henry, Episode Continuation, Max Klinger Sees Ghosts, Grieving Radar O’Reilly, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,868

Status: Complete

I had a lot of fun the past week writing all these pieces! It was definitely a challenge, especially being so new to the fandom and trying to gauge how my interpretations of the characters fit into the narratives. I’m typically an angst writer, so the short piece about Kellye was a challenge, but I ended up being really proud of it! Also, the OC in both the fics with Father Mulcahy are the same OC. I’ll put some details about her down below! Those fics were both floating around in my head before the fic olympics started so yeah, it was self-indulgent. Apologies, lol. If you give any of these a read, I’d love some feedback! Reblogs are welcome! :)

About my OC in the two Mulcahy fics:

Name: Della Woods

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: May 12th, 1922

Age: 29 (at the start of the war)

Hair Colour: Chocolate brown

Hair Style: curly, falls just below her jaw

Eye Colour: Light brown

Skin Tone: very pale

Height: 5′9″ (yes she’s tall for a woman, esp in the 50s)

Job: Nurse, has experience with psychiatric patients (though this doesn’t come through in the first fic, I hadn’t really thought about it yet)

Love Language (giving): Physical Touch (main), Words of Affirmation

Love Language (receiving): Quality Time, Words of Affirmation

Temperament: Energetic, Playful

MBTI: ENFJ

Scars or markings: One above her left hip that curls around onto her stomach (from an accident many years ago), lots of freckles

Her relationship with Mulcahy: they’ve been really close friends/best friends pretty much since Della joined the 4077th, which was just after Mulcahy did. He got very comfortable with her over time because she never tried to pull anything on him, but she wasn’t cautious around him and actually called him by his name (which is John in these stories bc I can’t keep up with how many times it’s changed, but he tells the other nurse to call him that so idk that’s what I went with). She’s very physically affectionate and likes to tease him, and she’s pretty much the only one who can get away with that. Aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that Mulcahy will be vulnerable in front of. 

While he’s shy, Della is a social butterfly, and she’s kinda wild when she wants to be, which makes him worry. It’s warranted, she’s a bit of a daredevil, lol. But when the roles are reversed and he pulls something reckless, she’s all over him. And again, aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that’s comforted him/seen him cry, and also is the only one that knows how to handle him when he gets sorta panicky (I wrote in another post somewhere that I headcanon him as having terrible anxiety). They both love each other a lot and overall it’s a very playful relationship, but don’t mess with either of them because you will feel the other one’s wrath. 

When it comes to jealousy, Della knows she gets jealous and tries not to, but ultimately fails. Mulcahy on the other hand doesn’t understand why his chest feels so tight when he sees her off with some guy or hears the other men talking about her (she sometimes sleeps around and dates but it’s really only because she can’t have the person she really wants. Or at least she thinks she can’t). They both have rather intense feelings for each other, but Della never said anything because she figured she could never have him and he never said anything bc of his vows and also a lot of denial. TLDR; they’re chaotic and playful but also very emotionally close and care about each other a lot. Best friends fr. 

Other random facts about Della:

-she’s incredibly perceptive to subtle changes in people and their moods

-99% of the time is chaotic and playful but when something happens or someone is upset she immediately cools to like 1% and is incredibly gentle. It’s like whiplash, honestly. 

-she’s terrified of birds. Especially chickens. But somehow, hot chicken sandwiches are her favourite...

-she has a friend back home who is deaf and knows very basic ASL

-her mother died when she was a teenager

-she’s from Philadelphia, PA, just like Mulcahy, but they never met before the war

-she became a nurse and moved into an apartment with her best friend, but her friend moved out when she got married, and now Della just has a vacant room in her apartment back home

-she shares a tent with Nurses Kellye, Baker, and Able

-Klinger knows she has feelings for Mulcahy but never says anything about it. Just sort of gives her a knowing look

-Frank actually doesn’t bully her like he does with a lot of the others. He actually seems to like her. And everyone is bewildered by this. But Della is a little shit and will use it to her advantage to help the others

-Mulcahy may be camp therapist tm but Della is group therapist tm. She’s also the only one who knows how to calm Mulcahy when he’s anxious (I head canon that he has horrible anxiety but I’m likely just projecting but its fine) and is the only one (other than Margaret and BJ/Trapper) who can calm Hawkeye when he’s it one of his rants or is overstimulated (back on my ADHD/Autistic!Hawkeye bs)

-She used to play field hockey

-She finds her dress uniform too stuffy and would much rather wear her worn in fatigues instead

-She’s a night owl and goes on walks a lot at night after stressful days

Anyway yeah so that’s my M*A*S*H OC. I might make another who is closer to Radar’s age bc let’s be real, he needs a friend his own age. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. I was brainrotting and needed to put all of this info somewhere so here it is!

[dantesletritahs]

Miguel O’Hara fic. HELP.

So I just watched Across the Spiderverse... And I took a shower and my ideas wouldn’t stop. But I need someone to tell me that it isn’t cringe, or that it is. If it makes sense or if it doesn’t. JUST HELP PLEASE.

Very messy Chapter 1. (The rest is just the outline and dialogue)

Okay, let's do this one last time. You are... Nothing especial. You study a major that probably won't change or save the world. At least you speak four languages, so yay... But it's the normal people that keep the world spinning right? Heroes just help to keep it safe. You have beautiful flowers to care of. ‘I love you, my preciosas.’ You have so many friends. ‘Hey, we're going to grab a bite after class, wanna come?’ ‘I have to work, sorry’ Everyone loved you. "Why do you keep inviting them? The answer will always be no." Amongst the other you's, you were the one that was never going to do something important or remarkable for the world. The one with a normal life. Or at least you were supposed to. ‘Never trust Miguel O'Hara.’ That dream, again. Usually, you didn't dream, but when you did you saw a world so different than yours. So magnificent, including yourself. Lately, when you did dream, only one thing happens. You. ‘Why do you...?’ You touched your face, their face? The person in front of you looked like you, just... A little different. ‘Never. Trust. Miguel.’ And then you, or that other you, pushed you to a fall that woke you up instantly. And their, your, words somehow made sense. You had a recurring nightmare, fangs, blood, fading away. You tried to blame it on the accident, the trauma of losing your family all at once. Or it was maybe you're tiredness. Attending college, working till 11 pm, and doing homework till 3 AM had to have some effect. You just wished it wasn't this one.

THE REST (it’s even messier I’m sorry) What happens next (messy outline) is that Miguel kinda kidnaps you? Like he shows up in your reality, with zero patience he grabs you and takes you with him to the base or whatever it is. You're shocked but also asking so many questions, and the only thing he says is that you're the key to saving all of them, or at least, the only one that's left. What? Turns out you never dream because there were always a few variants of you, two, to be exact. You and another you. The other you (TOY from now on) had a degree or doctorate in something sciency that was getting close to destroying "The Impostor" (idk sounds cringe wanna change). The impostor had the ability to show up in anyone’s dreams and pretend to be them (or someone close to them) and implant serious matters that would prevent some canon things to happen, that meant Miguel had always to be pending on being ready when it got to that point. They (the Spideysociety) could never guess when or where it would happen because The Impostor implanting ideas took time, from weeks to months to years. What are you doing there if it’s TOY the one with the answer? Because TOY was murdered by The Impostor and now you are the only ‘you’ left. But I don't know anything about science? I study literature (or something humanistic/artistic). There’s no other option. If someone can understand you, is you. TOY’s work is coded; we hope you know how to decode it.

Miguel is going to confine you in a room, no one can come in without his personal authorization, and you can't leave. He's the one that drops by the most, when he does the lights automatically go out because it hurts his eyes. (IDK much about Miguel aside from what I learned in the movie and a silly post on Facebook).  The room has its own bathroom, a bed, and a desktop with a few pages and notebooks that could be saved from TOY’s apartment before burning to the ground. You have one condition to stay there, they bring your flowers to the room, your radio and your bookshelf. One day you were having dinner listening to some music when the lights go out, you were used to it by now but you had told Miguel (and others that time from time visit you, still a maybe) to never bother you when you were eating because you preferred to do it alone. Always. ‘I’m having dinner right now, Miguel.’ Nothing. ‘Miguel this isn’t funny, you know I don’t like being alone in the dark. It’s creepy.’ Nothing. Panicked, you stand up. Miguel isn’t there, someone else is. A shadow. But it isn’t another spider-person, you think since your eyes aren’t used to the dark yet. The shadow moves and tries to attack you, your first instinct tells you is The Impostor. It’s the only answer, but how? You look at the door, the dashboard was destroyed, and the door is open. You still have your book in your hand, you throw it at them and make a run for it. You hear them laugh. ‘You’re braver than I thought!’ It’s your own voice. You run as fast as you can, but you weren’t allowed outside and the place has a weird design. You don’t know where to run and can’t run in some directions since everything is designed for Spider-people. You’re getting dizzy. ‘Miguel!’ You keep running wherever you can but you’re afraid you may be losing ground. You trip and fall. Quickly you try to get back on your feet but The Impostor makes you stay on the ground. ‘I'm not sure what his goal is to have you here. You're nothing. Of all you’s, you’re the most useless.’ Miguel quickly arrives and takes the Impostor off of you, you cover your head, shutting your eyes off, crying. You hear the fight and can only deduce it ended with The Impostor disappearing. ‘Are you okay?’ He asks. Your panicking. ‘Hey, Hey, Hey. It’s over now. They’re gone.’ ‘Was that... Was that the Impostor?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘They looked like me.’ ‘That’s what they do. They impersonate. They can look however they want to. We have never seen their true form.’ ‘They were going to kill me.’ ‘It’s okay now.’ Unsure, he puts an arm on your shoulder as a form of giving comfort. ‘I... We, the system failed. Your face is in our database, they got in by looking like you.’ ‘But they broke the dashboard on my door to get in.’ ‘There is only so much The Impostor can do with their ability. From now on, you’ll be under surveillance 24/7.’ ‘No... No, please. My loneliness is the one thing you haven’t stripped me out of.’ ‘It’s the only way to prevent this from happening again, aside from other measurements.’ ‘Who’ll take care of me?’ ‘We will establish a watch rotation tomorrow. For now, you’re with me.’ ‘No, Miguel, please..’ ‘You think I’m excited about babysitting you? I’m not. But you are the only one left.’ He stands up and offers you a hand. ‘On your feet. I’ll let you get some rest, and then I’ll train you for combat.’ ‘But I don’t have... Anything all of you have.’ ‘You don’t need one to fight. You’re useless if you don’t know at least how to defend yourself.’

Then the two of you get closer, and you have some heart-to-heart talks about your family and your past, he doesn’t say much but he understands. You tell him about your studies and he learns that you know how to speak other languages, including Spanish. You sometimes exchange some words in Spanish. (My mother tongue is Spanish so sorry if it looks cringe but I’m going to exploit it). One time you were eating alone in a place with a view of the city, and Miguel approaches. you. You think is the Spider-person that was watching you. ‘I told you I want to be alone, (their name).’ ‘Leaving you alone is against the established rules.’ ‘Ah, Miguel.’ He asks why you like eating alone and just in general being alone. You tell him it’s because, after your family’s accident, you had to work twice as hard to better your grades, get a scholarship that didn’t pay all of your college fees, and then take on a job because you had no one left. The only times you could process your grief was while eating and having a shower, the rest of your day was busy with classes, work, and homework. Miguel apologizes for interrupting you but you ask him to stay and sit with you. That’s when you realize you love him. ‘I enjoy spending time with you.’ You say. And he knows. (Something that moves on the plot here)

The climax is that you dream again and you tell Miguel, because now you know it’s The Impostor. ‘I had a dream! It has been The Impostor this whole time!’  You tell Miguel about the ‘Never trust Miguel’ nightmare and since there were only two of you and one was killed, it could only mean that The Impostor has been the one showing up in your dreams.’  By this point, you have done zero progress on decoding TOY’s research and Miguel is getting impatient. Learning that you didn’t tell him about the nightmare is the last straw. ‘You haven’t done any progress at all and now you’re telling me The Impostor has been in your dreams for a while? This could potentially mess everything up. Starting from how they could’ve been implanting fake ideas and scenarios for a long time. It’s useless, I’m sending you home.’ ‘I thought you said I was the only one left!’ ‘And you are, but maybe someone else can understand TOY’s research. We are running out of time.’ You have been filling for a while that Miguel isn’t telling you the whole truth so you ask for it. Why did TOY study something related to physics and such? Why did they take such an important path if you’re supposed to be a character in the background? Miguel answers. ‘Because TOY’s family wasn’t supposed to die in their universe, unlike yours. However, The Impostor messed with their universe canon and they died. TOY found out that wasn’t supposed to happen and changed their major to try and stop them from doing that to anyone else.’ You answer. ‘And then they were murdered.’ ‘Yes...’ ‘Give me another chance.’ ‘It’s been to long.’ ‘Please. I.. TOY was supposed to be happy with my family in their own universe.. And it’s comforting, in a way, to know that. It isn’t fair they had to lose what I lost when they TOY didn’t deserve it. I want to keep trying. For them. For me. They deserved to have that life, at least. Miguel thinks for like two seconds. ‘Very well. Along with the notebooks and the other stuff, we found something else in TOY’s apartment. We wanted to test you with the notebooks, but maybe it’s better if I just give it to you.’ He hands you a small box with a lock. 3 0 4 5 (?) ‘What is it?’ ‘We think it may contain TOY’s research. The lock only allows three guesses before self-destruction and our stupid labs messed it up twice. The lock always goes back to the same numbers.’ ‘I understand why.’  ‘You do?’ ‘Yes. The reason it goes back to this particular combination is that it’s the right one.’ ‘They already tried one. That’s how they lost one try.’ ‘And the other?’ ‘They started moving the numbers back to zero so they could start trying every combination one by one. That’s when the box spoke saying there was only one try left.’ ‘Not so smart I see.’ ‘So what’s the code?’ ‘Well, zero means to, three means nine, five means ten...’ ‘...Whatever you say.’ 9 0 8 10 The box opens and a video of TOY begins. This variation of you is very similar, with the sad aura all over you, but there are some differences. ‘Hello there.’ TOY speaks. ‘If you, or me, is watching this, is because he found you.’ TOY smiles. ‘I trust Miguel O’Hara to hand this to you and to take care of you, of us. I’m sorry you lost your family and more sorry I had to do it too, I wished my universe could be a home where sometimes you could come back to. It wasn’t fair, to any of us. I was supposed to fix this, but there is not much time left... If you, the other me, are handed this, you will find my complete work, still coded just in case, on how to end with The Impostor. I have yet to find out how and why they are doing this but... I don’t think I’ll ever will. I trust you. I believe in you. Because, well, I know you. There is a fire in us, there has always been. Our lives entwine in this, us becoming so much more than what we expected. It doesn’t matter if you are majoring in (this), I know you will be able to descifer it and finish what we started. Good luck. TOY’S complete research shows up and now you begin understanding it. (The research is hidden between, for example, the lines of your favorite books and whatever, but I have no idea. Help.) So you start decoding everything and working alongside the lab people you start building whatever it needs to be built to stop The Impostor. Until something happens.

The Impostor was caught trying to enter HQ using your face again, but it looks like they were doing it on purpose. The Impostor was easily captured and brought to the machine that was built to show their true form.  You were standing right beside Miguel when the machine is started up and... The Impostor still looked loke you. ‘What is happening?’ Miguel asks. ‘Why is the machine failing?’ ‘It’s... Not.’ ‘But...’ Panicked, you looked at Miguel. ‘But they look like me! Why do they look like me!?’ Miguel tries to calm you down and The Impostor laughs. ‘Go on say it Miguel! Say it!’ ‘What... What do they mean by that?’ You ask looking at The Impostor. ‘I AM you!’ ‘No...’ ‘Yes! And he knew.’ ‘Miguel...?’ You look at him and the guilt on his face confirms it. ‘Look, it's...’ ‘You lied to me!? You said there were only two of me! Are there more!? Did you actually mean something when you said you were going to look for somewhere else to descifer TOY’s work?’ ‘Yes... There are four variants of you... The researcher, The Impostor, you...’ ‘There is another?’ ‘Not for long!’ The impostor laughs. ‘You are the worst out of the four of us.’ ‘Shut up!’ Miguel screams. ‘But he brought you here because he knew I wouldn’t chase you. Because you are useless. You’re nothing.’ ‘Don’t listen to them.’ Miguel says. ‘No! I was right...’ You breathe heavily. ‘We were right, I shouldn’t have trusted you...’ ‘They are manipulating you.’ ‘Are they, Miguel? Do you think I would believe your words over mine?’ ‘The Impostor has nothing to do with you.’ ‘Oh, we have everything to do with each other.’ The Impostor laughs. ‘And it starts with you.’ The Impostor directs their gaze over Miguel. ‘What do you mean by that?’ He asks. ‘You see. When a canon doesn’t happen and the universe starts falling and disappearing and yada yada, your team shows up trying to fix things. And while they’re doing that, the universe is also compensating to not disappear in a matter of seconds, as it would happen if it didn’t compensate. When you saved a timeline where the family of one of your stupid people died, the universe overcompensated with another family. Mine.’ ‘What...?’ You wonder. What if your own family wasn’t supposed to die either? ‘My family wasn’t supposed to die in my universe. But they did. And it’s your fault Miguel O’Hara. And now, everything and everyone will die too! It’s only fair. I’ll make sure every timeline is destroyed because of you.’ ‘Destroying the universe won’t bring your family back.’ Miguel tries to reason with The Impostor. ‘Oh I don’t want them back. I want to make you pay.’ They look at you. ‘I told you not to trust him.’ ‘Did my family...?’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ Miguel calls out your name. ‘Look.’ ‘No.’ You answer angered. ‘I shouldn’t have trusted you. I shouldn’t have complied with any of this. I should have gone back home when I had the chance to!’ ‘Please...’ Miguel begs. ‘I want to go home.’ ‘Don’t...’ ‘I’m not asking.’ ‘You don’t understand.’ ‘I think I do, Miguel! I... I am better without you.’

Back home you are eating dinner on your kitchen table when your lights are suddenly turned off. ‘It’s me.’ You hear Miguel say and you stand up facing him. ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with you. You betrayed me. I trusted you and you lied to me.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘Don’t... Don't you dare to use that with me.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘Stop.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘Just shut up!’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I love you too!’ ... ‘How long have you known?’ You ask Miguel. ‘When you were attacked. That night...’ ‘No. How long have you known I love you?’ ‘When you said you enjoyed spending time with me.’ ‘What?’ ‘I believe it takes a special type of feeling to enjoy my company.’ You two laugh. ‘I hate you.’ ‘No, you don’t. Or... I hope you don’t.’ ‘You betrayed my trust.’ ‘I know.’ ‘And you know I don't give that easily.’ ‘I know.’ ‘You know how hard it is for me to trust someone.’ ‘I do.’ ‘And yet you lied.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Come again?’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘The city is extra noisy today!’ He comes close to you and whispers inches from your face. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘That’s better and... I forgive you.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘But. I still don’t trust you.’ ‘I understand.’ ‘It’s going to take me some time.’ ‘I know.’ ‘I have one condition.’ ‘Which is?’ ‘Always tell me the truth.’ ‘I will. No more lies.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘I want to kiss you.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘You want me to tell the truth, here it is.’ ‘Kiss me.’ *smooch smooch*

How do you solve the conflict? How does it end? What happens next? I have no idea. Please help.

[llycaons]

Section Five: Part XIII

The little ones: works focused on the children

*a truth universal by curiositykilled

summary: another juniors-try-to-get-wx-together fic that’s surprisingly good. funny and believable - when it starts, all the kids are drunk, and their attempts to interfere with wwx’s personal life are recognized as embarrassing and silly. more of a character study on lsz and his complicated relationship with wwx/the lan sect/his name than anything. really refreshing and offering more nuance than ‘perfect son is grateful and loves his parents with no further thought’. cql canon work issues: none author issues: none but it looks like some of their works are incredibly gory and disturbing and contain *shudders* jc/wq, so watch out

The Birds and The Bees (and The Bunnies) by Beltenebra

summary: jin ling tries to get some sex ed from the adults in his life, and mostly fails because all the adults in his life have too many issues and problems. honestly pretty sweet, and quite funny. either canon, probably work issues: wwx’s attempt at teaching was a bit…weird? and jl did say he felt a little traumatized after, but imo it wasn’t as bad as it was in other fics, and even a little funny since his advice was so hyperspecific and useless to jl author issues: none

i’m haunted by the letters of your name by wizardlover

summary: postcanon, jin ling sees visions of jgy, and grapples with his conflicting feelings about him. the friendship between the juniors in this was just incredibly sweet. and jc is at his absolute best. it’s enough to call him ooc, but it’s still nice to see him being so emotionally aware and supportive. I <3 jin ling. either canon, but probably cql-leaning work issues: none author issues: they’re a big fan of nhs/jgy

Sect Leader Jingyi by Fortune_Maiden

summary: sect leader jingyi baby!!! work issues: none author issues: lxc/nhs

another name for ghosts by seularen

summary: postcanon, a still-estranged jin ling visits wwx at CR, and lwj tries to keep it from being a disaster for everyone involved. I didn’t really like the lwj in this one, because he’s firmly his novel self and I don’t like novel lwj much as a person, but he was well-written and the way the work teased out jl and wwx’s respective issues and traumas was really something. novel canon work issues: none author issues: incredibly weird about sex scenes outside of this work. a lot of cnc-adjacent stuff. xiyao also

Impartiality by lindoreda

summary: on lsz and his relationship with lwj over the years, done in a way I found original and interesting and true to canon. at one point the kids get curious and start snooping and they find lwj’s erotica collection and it’s very awkward for everyone but it’s wholesome I swear. either canon, I think work issues: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve read this but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about author issues: none

*Ouyang Zizhen and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day by huxiyi

summary: modern AU oyzz, normal high school student trying to do well in class, doesn’t care about the unfolding jc and wwx and lwj drama at ALL and is progressively frustrated and annoyed that his friends do. quite funny work issues: none I think? author issues: has written genderbends

Small Medium Large by HerenorThereNearnorFar

summary: postcanon, a-qing is alive. ish. she’s jin ling’s advisor, a darling cousin of wwx, protectee of fairy, recipient of jiang sect gifts, and close friends with the other kids. as a medium, she perceives the injustices done to unquiet dead and helps then find retribution. a good time, I love a-qing. either canon but probably more cql work issues: none author issues: xuexiao

three days gone by occultings (microcomets)

summary: postcanon wwx, stuck at koi tower and missing his husband, decides to bother jin ling. as per usual, wwx is a bit of a menace, but they have a couple of very sweet moments. wwx also talks a little about his sexuality in a way that’s not over-exaggerated or made into a joke, which is nice to see. I’m feeling novel-verse for this one mind the notes - those jin cousins are homophobic work issues: none author issues: has written genderbends, sex pollen, and ‘allusions to cnc’

hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ

summary: postcanon, jin ling tries to connect with his wandering uncle wei through the endowment of an outpost from which to night-hunt from. funny and sweet, and they really nailed how badass and competent wwx is. cql canon I liked this work, but the others in the series I tried to read are really bad and ooc, and kind of depressing. the way they write wx sucks for reasons that are unique to this fic (mostly by making them see each other only rarely and having lwj act like a shitty partner by not standing with wwx publicly for political reasons) and I don’t recommend them work issues: none author issues: none

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