#bu getting a ship tag in their last post together

[dimdiamond]

Happy Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day! 🥳

What is your favorite line/scene that you've written so far this year?

Sorry, answering this a day later but thank you so much for the ask❣️❣️❣️

Uhhh this year I've been writing a lot of "Six Goodbyes and One Hello" and there's this scene I really liked for some reason but it's from a chapter I haven't posted yet and I hope this small part of the scene makes some sense out of context. You can read it under the read more.

Chang laid his head on his shoulder and judging from his tired face he didn't do it to mess up with him… It was only natural to get exhausted after such an eventful day so Chester let him be… he also was too tired to fight back…

“My mom was wearing rose perfume…” Chang's quiet voice startled him more than his yell would have done. “The only luxury she allowed herself was this single small bottle of rose perfume… The only thing I can still remember clearly of her was that she smelled like roses whenever she smiled the brightest…” Despite talking about his lost family, he was still smiling…

How can you be so strong…

“What was her name?”

“Guiying… It comes from ‘Gui’, meaning laurel, cassia or cinnamon, and ‘Ying’ which means flower, petal or even hero, brave...”

He couldn't help but smirk with the teacher switch he had on, no matter the timing… “Beautiful name… Did you take from her?”

“I suppose as most sons take from their mothers… I don't have any photos of them…”

Oh, so that's why…

His arm already covered Chang's arm so the least he could do was to squeeze his hand, now colder than before… “I am sure you took the best from both your parents so whenever you look at yourself in the mirror you see both of them…”

The blessing and the curse of genes…

Chang didn't say anything to that, he only nudged his face on his shoulder, hiding it from him, and turned his hand in a way that now their palms were touching, but his small hand was still fully covered by the big one on the top…

No one was ever so open to me… no one ever showed me such trust…

Chester would cry if he was stronger… “The only reason I like apple blossoms is because it was what I usually saw outside my window… Whenever they came it meant that winter was over and so was finally the snow…”

“You don't like snow?” Chang showed his face that stared at him with all interest.

Staring back at him, the feeling was only enhanced… “Aye, I came to hate it… even more now…”

His eyes widened but then they lowered as his voice. “Yeah, me too…”

Every time he opened up this thing happened… How should he lighten up the mood…? “And after the blossoms the apples came and I would grab one to eat or my mom would bake them with sugar and cinnamon so I guess I have to connect something with my hunger to be interested…!”

Why wasn't Chang laughing with him…?! Why was he staring at the void skeptically…?! “I see…”

WHAT DO YOU SEE?! THAT I'M A GLUTTON?!

This was one of the many reasons he avoided talking about himself… Eventually, he made things awkward… It was easier when he stepped back and let the others open as much as they wanted…

This is so cowardly and unfair… Chang isn't either of them…

He gulped- hopefully his fear- and talked, trying to find some courage by looking at their hands… “I want to talk to you about… all the things I haven't talked about and I should have… But I can't now…” Not until Lee could verify him that there was no danger… But Chester would demand a clear answer from him and then… “ I will tell you… everything… Just give me some time…”

Some time passed by with no reaction from him and Chester was becoming more and more sure that Chang had no intention of giving importance to empty words and unfair requests… That was only fair but it didn't mean it didn't hurt…

Then his hand shifted and his long fingers slipped through his own thick ones and they intertwined… How was it possible for two so different hands to fit each other and look like one…? His eyes were stuck on this view and all his senses focused on this touch… as if it was the most extraordinary thing in the world…

So this is your answer…? You'll get through me no matter the obstacles…?

This was so characteristically like Chang it made Chester want to laugh but, thankfully, he held it inside with a smirk. The only urge he allowed himself to indulge was to hold his hand tighter and not let it go during the rest drive… Even more bizarre was that he felt no resistance or movement of his hand to get free from his grip and, the one time Chester dared to take his eyes from their hands to the face laying on his shoulder, he saw Chang smiling with his eyes closed…

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Buddie in S8 and Slow Burns:

so those of you who follow me or see my posts popping up in the buddie tags know that i am still apprehensive of believing that we will actually get buddie canon in s8. tim has done too much to destroy my trust in him as a writer, and the show has baited us with buddie far too many times for me to easily take anything as a “clear/obvious sign that buddie is happening” when it is just as likely that we are being clowned yet again

that being said, IF we get buddie canon, it needs to happen fairly quickly. I have seen a lot of people saying things like “I don’t want buddie to go canon until the s8 finale” which, i disagree with.

I know a lot of people are saying this because they want a mutual pining era, but i don’t think these people are grasping the fact that if they waited until the finale, that is 18 episodes of tv to fill with something of substance for buddie. Another eighteen episodes; almost eighteen hours of tv. Even with a mutual pining era, that is far too long for them to continue dragging this story out.

Yes, i know that if they are going for a slow burn, that that takes time, but good lord it’s been 6 seasons of actively building up to a relationship… they’ve had six years of stalling, they need to go ahead and fucking commit to it, not take 18 more agonizing episodes of them dragging their feet. If you commit to them having acknowledged feelings for each other, they don’t need more than one or two episodes of mutual pining before it would start getting old.

realistically, we could have a fully fleshed out queer arc for eddie AND mutual pining leading to buddie canon within 8a. 8 or 9 episodes is MORE than enough time to build up to that with what they have to work with— they’ve reached the point for conceivably going canon so many times that it feels like there isn’t any build anymore; it feels like they’ve parked the bus a half mile from the station, and have started doing a thorough inspection on all the parts after driving almost the whole distance.

i know we love drama and angst and slow burns— that’s the appeal of buddie as a ship; but this slowburn has been way beyond fully cooked since s4, and there is no need to keep cooking it (unless they’re just baiting us, which in that case we need to decide when enough is enough and call it a day on this show)

this is not a fanfic that has no expiration date. this show isn’t going to last forever. i ship buddie because i want to actually see them navigating a relationship— i don’t ship them to be edged for 7 years just for them to go canon for one singular episode. i want to see them bask in each other’s love, i want to see them living together with the happiness they’ve been chasing their whole lives, i want to see them encounter speedbumps, and go through hardships together. That is why i ship characters. The chase is fun for a while, but I actually want to see what happens once the chase is over, and them going canon in the last episode is not narratively satisfying to me, and at this point feels like a copout for the writers.

We don’t know how long past s8 this show will last. we don’t even know if we’re getting a s9, let alone more. it’s already unheard of for tv shows to reach this longevity post-2016, we can’t just go into each season assuming that we still have all the time in the world for them to give us buddie. the reality is we don’t have all the time in the world, and this is the make-or-break season.

we don’t need 18 more episodes of stagnant growth. if they’re going to give us buddie, they need to stop dragging it out and just give it to us if they actually intend to, not cop-out and give us a last minute kiss in the season/possible series finale.

anyway, getting off my soapbox for now, but i just wanted to get those thoughts off my chest.

[quodekash]

guys jokezo just made out and now they have to share a bed together. just chew on that for a bit.

NO, DON'T GIVE ME THEM SITTING ON A BUS

GIVE ME WHAT HAPPENED WHEN THEY HAD TO SLEEP IN THE SAME FREAKING BED IMMEDIATELY AFTER THEY MADE OUT

👀

(they made out last night btw)

(just in case anyone forgot)

(and then they had to share a bed)

ass x7

also zo is fully just not doing anything lmao

everyone's pushing with all their might and zo is just 🧍‍♂️

FUIWEBSDGIOUVEWJBOGD

oh the desperate thigh grab

yeah, im with him on this, they need to talk about it. especially about how they had to slEEP IN THE SAME FREAKING BED AFTER THAT

welp. I guess joke's day was just ruined in a slap to the face disguised as a few words

AND THE WAY HE TAKES HIS HAND OFF ZO'S THIGH AFTER THAT????? OUCHHHH

I must say tho, this is really giving episode-6-of-bad-buddy

its very patpran-post-rooftop-kiss-core

the vibes be gay and yearning and very very sad

OKAY, THE MOTHER, FINALLY

a few things to say about her

1. she's gorgeous

2. DAMN she is SHORT

3. I was rewatching the first four episodes yesterday and today because I could, and I noticed in the first episode, zo asked his friends to not tag him in photos they took at the bar, because "I don't want my mum to see"

but my question is... why? he's just out drinking with friends, he's an adult, he's not being irresponsible or anything, so why doesn't he want her to see the photos?

is it something to do with what his mum thinks of him? is she overbearing? does she have high expectations of him? does she kinda suck?

she's probably lovely though, and ill end up adding her to my list-of-fictional-parents-to-get-adopted-by (it's a very long list)

I guess we shall find out today as the episode progresses

oh, honey, you're so queer

the amount of times ive done exactly this

she's so short its hilarious omg

also: ive decided I love his mum

she's so sweet

and neither of them know how to use a stove and I think that's so hilarious and endearing

HSDHSHFSHDHHS

(also: this scene is making me think of akkayan at aye's house having a meal with his mum and rhbgdhjgb)

he's putting two and two together

the few braincells he has that aren't dedicated to debating are whirring in his mind

I can practically hear his thoughts

"he kissed me back... he wants to talk about the kiss... we went on two dates together at his suggestion... he showed up at my house and charmed my mother... he says I have secret admirers..." cmon sweetie youre so close

"WAIT, DOES HE LIKE ME?" omg honeybun you did it!

or maybe he didn't do it

maybe he was still shuffling the pieces in his brain but hadn't put them together and then his mum said something and distracted him

either way: that was hilarious and I want to high five dunk for his acting there

HIGH EXPECTATIONS, I KNEW IT

still love her tho

high expectations suck but she seems wonderful so far (obviously my opinion will change if the circumstances do (like if it turns out she completely sucks) but for now she's made it to the adoption list)

brb, gonna go cry real quick

well now their thumbs are making out

you see, I understand the things he's saying. and I honestly agree with him. if I were ever somehow put in his position, id probably say the same things.

HOWEVER, I just want my bl boys to kiss again and be happy and together and I appreciate the realism over the usual fantasy kinda situation we go for in bls, but I just want them to kissssss

this is very good advice

I hope that jokezo kiss again this episode

also AAAGBRDHFKBG JENGPOK CRUMBS

YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO'S LOSING THEIR MIND OVER JENGPOK AGAIN

BERIUFDJKGBEORPVFD

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

SHUT UP

SHUT UP SHUT UP

IM NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING

FHEWSDGFVESDV

THIS IS TOO FUNNY

im gonna start crying soon

its so funny

help me

girl is worried

I know this is what jeng told you to do but is during debate club really the right moment

im so certain that she ships it

awwhhhhh

HE SAID IT

HE SAID THE THING

AAAAAAAAA

hell yeah

GOUERJLHDGOBIERVLDNF

AAAAAAAAAAA

IM SCREAMING

THATS IT??

THAT'S THE END OF THE EPISODE??

THEY DIDNT EVEN KISS

OR ADDRESS THE FACT THAT - and I can't stress this enough - THEY SLEPT IN THE SAME FREAKING BED AFTER FULL-ASS MAKING OUT

omg next episode is gonna be amazing

I can't wait

gekjrdsbfd I love them so much

im like 70% certain they're gonna kiss next episode so fingers crossed

ALSO NITA DEFINITELY SHIPS IT

anyway. that was good. I should go to sleep now

[bluiela]

to add to your last post about than side being more positive, I agree, I also want to add that gwynriels and eluciens are out here girl bossing, publishing their own books, bad ass careers, multiple degrees, teaching the next generation, i've seen how they come together to support when someone is going through hard time and overall just rooting for each other -

i'm not saying there aren't elriels with similar accomplishments, because there are, they are the ones who imo are level headed and normal about elriel, and it really sucks they get grouped in with the toxic ones... which are the ones i'm talking about, who are the loudest on their side, from I hear are even mean to each other, and will throw each other under the bus so fast, they fight each other, don't even treat each other with respect, it's no wonder they can't treat anyone with respect, anyone who spends most of their time on the internet harassing and bullying others are jobless trolls with nothing going on in life, it's why they have all the time in the world to do it and make a fictional ship their entire personality, must be a sad life.

I personally don't know much about the e/riel side of the fandom but in our tags I have seen correct tagging, positive content, fun content, actual fandom stuff, rather than just tearing to characters (Gwyn) in every second post, and whining how if the next book is certain character it's not going to be good (why are they still reading if they don't trust the author?)

Like after the troll made the posts I went to see if their tags to see if the troll made posts there and if these people are reporting the troll for plagiarism of their posts (idk i thought you could report people for this)

But I was surprised by how much Gwyn consumed the e/riel tag, and honestly I can say I'm glad i spent my time here.

[terresdebrume]

This snippet will be cleaned up and posted to AO3 as part of my current series. There's more of it in the series' tag on my blog tho, s: limo driver Joe.

Joe takes his ticket back and makes his way to his seat towards the back of the bus. His backpack is heavy on his shoulder. The air is too cold for him. He feels, irritatingly enough, like he should be wearing a suit. With a sigh, he settles his bag in the overhead luggage compartment and sits down.

A single blue backpack. Not the sum of his possessions—that got shipped last week, thanks to a decade of savings—but definitely some of the most precious ones. The vintage Dick Tracy keychain his siblings pooled up to get him when he left home, safely hooked to the inside zipper. The ninja turtles shirt that has somehow not died yet. The tiny, silver, six-branched star David got him after he lost the one from his bar mitzvah five years into his work for the Websters. He never like his life was empty, those ten years, but looking down, he can't help but wonder if he was wrong.

The engine comes on. The people outside the bus start hurrying up. A jam forms at the front. Joe rolls his eyes and jams his jacket between his shoulder and the window, then blinks. For a moment, he thought—oh, something stupid, probably. Then he turns his head, and he sees him.

David stands on the quai, eyeing the bustling travelers like he's not sure they're quite healthy to be around. He's wearing that stupid dress his mother makes him wear when she wants to show visitors what a good catholique family she has. The pale blue one with a Peter Pan collar and the white flats. David never looked quite comfortable in that ensemble, but now it clashes with his clearly masculine haircut and the designer lines of his bookbags.

Out of all the people Joe befriended in Nw York in the past ten year, he had to get closest to the one whose entire being screams dork. He rolls his eyes, resolutely ignoring the light warmth pinching behind his ribs. Then he knocks on the window. David startles. Finds Joe at the window. His mouth does that thing where it's hanging open and trying to smile at the same time. Joe rolls his eyes again, and goes fishing for his phone.

"Get out," he texts David in German, "before someone steals your lunch money."

Outside, he sees David fish his phone out of his pocket. Glance at it. Glare up at him, flipping him the bird. Joe can't help but grin harder at the sight. His phone buzzes.

"Safe journey, asshole."

Joe gives the kid a nod. They're probably never going to spend any significant amount of time together again. Joe's going back to Frisco. David has a life of luxury waiting for him in New York, if he can stick the landing with his coming out. There's no reason for them to even meet again.

In the privacy of his own head, Joe can admit he'll miss the guy. He'd thought he'd be insufferable at first. A little girl in neat little plaits, in a bohemian white dress that said 'just back from the Bali' like a bat signal for rich people. He'd been frowning at everything. Complaining in German to his then-nanny about the temperature, the smell, the size of the airport, the car, and then Joe. Because he hadn't been Mr. Ameer, the previous driver. Of course Joe had to respond to it, and in German, too.

There was some fire, under the lace that said 'my children don't get dirty'. Joe remembers pressing his lips against a smile, delighted by this stranger two years younger than Jake who'd answered his barb with as much aplomb as Al ever had. They haven't really stopped bickering since. So yeah, Joe will miss the guy.

He'll wonder, probably, what he's doing, in the future. Whether his Harvard degree is going well. Whether his coming out is accepted. Whether he found someone who'll actually listen to him if he decides to tell someone other than that damn journal of his about his accident and the months after.

Joe winks at David, huffing a laugh when that only makes him glare harder. Joe stops himself from reaching for the pendant David gifted him, safely tucked with the one Ma sent him as an actual replacement for the Bat Mitzvah gift. The doors at the front of the bus close down. David's face goes blank. Something tight grips Joe's throat.

He blinks, several times. Watches David grow smaller as the bus leaves the station. Then, feeling like he's losing some fight against himself, he reaches for his phone again and sends:

"Text you when I get there, kid."

In response, he gets an emoji.

"🙄"

[hereforlou]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!

I was tagged by @dudeyuri to answer these BB related questions by @fiercynn Thank youuu <3 these are always fun but I often forget to do them u_u

note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc. please include this note with the meme unless you have a different definition

name and whatever you want to share about yourself

I’m Maggie (Magui), from Argentina, in my 30s, just enjoying the creative burst this show (which I love very, very much) gave me until it petters out. I’ve been in a loOOooOOoot of fandoms under different usernames over the years and I tend to delete stuff from the internet without much warning, so save what you like (but don’t repost, please!)

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?

I watched it from episode 1 as it aired and could feel the brain rot spreading week after week but didn’t write fic until the day after the last episode came out, and I don’t think I posted any drawings until one or two months later? But I have the first couple of doodles I made on an old sketchbook after the first ep! (note I needed to write their names to remember what they were)

favorite ship(s)

PatPran and InkPa

favorite character(s)

I really can’t choose so I’ll say Nong Nao.

favorite episode(s)

I have a soft spot for ep 11 - running away together to a safe place, both trying to understand each other, the silly guy scene, Our Song, the imaginary montage at the end, the memory of watching it for the first time and being sucker punched by the ep 12 preview??? perfect all around x_x

favorite scene(s)

Off the top of my head (and in chronological order): the trashcan scene in ep 1, the bus stop role-play, rooftop kiss, the last scene/montage in ep 7, the simultaneous parent confrontation and rooftop meeting in ep 10, the silly guy convo at the beach, the last scene with the tin cans on ep 12 ;_;

one thing you would change about the show if you could

I think everyone answered the same thing but the whole Wai conflict and how they resolved it (including maybe Pat getting shot, though at this point would it really be BBS without Pat getting shot?)

what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people? 

I'll stick to people instead of particular fanworks, and only those I know for sure are on Tumblr so I can tag them, I'm really sorry if I forget someone!!

@architectxengineer @kit-teung @kornswasianguyswag @miscellar @dimplesandfierceeyes @yourunwiththewolves @icouldhyperfixatehim @fiercynn @charthanry @isaksbestpillow @pransobrave @faillen @jemmo @snickerdoodlles @alexshenry @nanons @mantrisanu

(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made?

Have I shown you the fridge magnets I made over a year ago? They’re pretty wonky but I think they're cute, considering I don’t know what I’m doing

a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol)

I'll tag the same people I mentioned above, if you haven't done it and want to:

@architectxengineer @kit-teung @kornswasianguyswag @miscellar @dimplesandfierceeyes @yourunwiththewolves @icouldhyperfixatehim @fiercynn @charthanry @isaksbestpillow @pransobrave @faillen @jemmo @snickerdoodlles @alexshenry @nanons @mantrisanu

[wolftattoo]

tag ppl ud like 2 get 2 kno better!!

i wuz tagged by @sporeinhalation thank u <3 im doing this on the bus home so i copied directly from ur post and im just adding my own answrrs in<3

last song: put me together by everything everything!!

3 ships: its been a while since ive even thought abt ships.... ummm me x the guys i like :-)

fav colour: probably green ! i love electric green a lot

currently consuming: got a mortal kombat energy drink . its . "sub zero" flavor . tastes like a monster

1st ship: it was probably something skulduggery pleasant related... i wannar say tanith x sanguine . lol

pob: assuming this means place of birth, ipswich qld, australia

current location: bus .

relationship status: single but also textung these two guys, one doesnt want a relationship and one is poly and wants a pet ^_^

last movie: yayy get to use letterboxd . it WAS poor things . ive been watching a lot of d20 lately so not many movies . i liked poor things a lot .

currently working on: ruminating on what thing i wanna do next . kind of would like to do some more face replacements for plushies, and something with the cat skull i have. but atm i just boot up krita and draw when i wanna . no big projects atm

tagging: umm @shitwank @surskip @batmanshole @kermit-love @47silver !! dont have to do it obv, have a nice duay :-)

[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter

#SPNMINN is happening right now, and man, the FOMO is real, as always. Photos from the Rob & Matt Benedict Bus Tour looked awesome, and DJ Qualls in his Karaoke getup Friday night was swoon-worthy! And soon, we'll have more videos of Jared and Jensen chatting about anything but the obvious. Maybe we'll be lucky and we'll get to see more of this?

Old Business:

The Angel Fish Awards were posted this week! Click here to see the entire list (including the correction that Tumblr wouldn't let us make on the original post). So many great fics to read!

The Angel Fish Raffle - All of the winners of prizes have been contacted, the prizes have been boxed up, and now Admin Michelle just needs to seal them up, wrap them up, and ship them out. Everybody send her energetic vibes because it's quite a pile! 🤣

Writing Sprints - Manta Ray Dean hosted a couple of writing sprints, and the winner was @allys-creative-bubble! Head on over to her blog to congratulate her!

SPNFanFicPond Fic Highlight - Our own Admin Marie won a fic highlight in the August AFA raffle! Click here to check it out!

Last week's #TweetFicTues prompts were:

Remember, you can use one, use a bunch, mix and match, whatever inspires you! Tag us in whatever you write so we can signal boost it!

New Business:

Angel Fish Awards are now fully open to everyone! We recently announced that stories from any writer, not just Pond members, can now be nominated for an Angel Fish Award! So, go forth and nominate your favorite SPN and TW fics willy-nilly. Spread the love far and wide!!

Coming soon: a new way to submit AFA nominations - Soon, there will be a new way to submit AFA nominations. We're putting together a Google form that will make it easier for us to keep track of nominations so none get missed. You can still submit them all of the old ways (via the blog, or DM to Admin Michelle or the other admins), but this form will help us on the back end. Stay tuned for more info!

Lots of online concerts from our favorite singers - Later today, Steve Carlson (the other half of Jensen's band, Radio Company) will doing a StageIt concert followed by a Zoom hang with his Patreon subscribers. Tomorrow, Mike Borja (of Louden Swain fame) will be doing a joint StageIt concert with Hayden Lee. (If you don't know Hayden Lee, he's buddies with Jason Manns, who's buddies with Jensen and had a song featured on SPN in season 4. This is turning into Six Degrees of SPN, the music edition, but Hayden is seriously sweet and funny and you should check him out!) As usual, Paul Caarella will probably do two shows on Wednesday and two shows on Friday, but he has not yet posted the links to those shows. Finally, Sun Spin (Michael Rosenbaum and Rob Danson) will have a StageIt concert on Saturday.

Manta Rays in the Discord server - This week, both Manta Ray Kat and Admin Michelle will be spending some time in the Discord server. Check out our Google calendar for exact times! (Click here to add our calendar to your own Google calendar so you can see everything in your own time zone!)

Next weekend is Fishing For Treasures weekend here at the Pond! This month, we're celebrating all of the fics you all write that are NOT from the Supernatural or The Winchesters world. Got some Stucky or maybe some Iron Man reader insert fics hidden away? Now is your time to see them on our blog! You can send us links via the blog (ask or submit) or drop links in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in the discord server. The deadline to submit is Friday night at midnight, Eastern US time!

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That's all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! We try to keep it as up to date as possible. If there's something you want to see on the calendar that's not there (maybe a convention we missed, or cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @princessmisery666, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @katbratsupernaturalwhore and @heavenssexiestangel!

[bbluejoseph]

bbluejoseph's 2022 fic masterlist

this is just a collection of everything i posted on ao3 in 2022! i did intentionally leave out one fic (Surrounded, Hounded) since i've updated it this year, though the first chapters were actually posted in 2022. all but two of the following fics are complete, and i do plan to continue those fics eventually.

I'd Find A Match (The Way You Say Good Morning) Posted Feb. 15th; approx 2k words Tags: songfic, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, mutual pining, first kiss, dorks in love, early days

Tyler laughs and lifts the cover off the keys again. "I might be able to do Für Elise. If I go slow."

Idaho Posted Feb. 25th; approx 1k words Tags: friendship/love, anxiety, disassociation, grief/mourning, fight or flight, past mental health issues, implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, desperation, ambiguous/open ending, sad with a happy ending, songfic, apply ship goggles to taste

He doesn't know why he grips Josh's arm so tight, only that he needs to, and thank God, Josh doesn't shove him off. "Take me back to the bus," Tyler whispers. The confusion is back, warring with the worry in Josh's voice. "What?" "Take me back to the bus," he begs. "Please."

Counting All The Numbers Between Zero And One Posted Mar. 5th; approx 2k words Tags: apply ship goggles to taste, best friends, running away, grief/mourning, loss of parent(s), implied/referenced character death, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, bittersweet ending, josh dun is a sweetheart, implied sucidal thoughts, implied suicidal ideation

"You didn't leave a note," Josh mumbles, sniffing, but his voice is clearer now. "I didn't know what to say," Tyler tells him slowly. There's more to it than that, and they both know it.

Home Posted Mar. 16th; approx 7k words Tags: dema, secret relationship, forbidden love, established relationship, dystopia, religious cults, angst, bad ending, blood and gore, blasphemy, religious imagery & symbolism, cannibalism, dead dove: do not eat

Andre's calculating, dark eyes wash over his face. "Yet you hesitate." Tyler swallows. "What if I'm not ready?" (We want you home in one piece, now.)

Please Don't Bite Last updated Mar. 25th; approx 13k words Tags: blood, gore, murder, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, supernatural elements, shapeshifters, demonic possession, attempted sexual assault, nonbinary blurryface, crush at first sight, not as dark as the tags make it seem

They swallowed, savoring the last bit of metallic sweetness before wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. It came away red.

Your Time Will Come Posted April 26th; approx 5k words Tags: early days, friends to lovers, best friends, friends with benefits, complicated relationships, time skips, implied sexual content, mild sexual content, light angst, fluff, getting together, getting back together, kissing, hook-up, happy ending, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, memories

It's been three years since they actually hung out together, and a lot has changed. Josh's feelings haven't. Maybe it's time he told Tyler the truth.

Bet You Got It All Planned Right Posted May 18th; approx 18k words Tags: teenagers, young love, post-high school, high school sweethearts, established relationship, running away, trans male character, transphobia, childhood sweethearts, unplanned pregnancy, implied sexual content, discussion of abortion, haircuts, angst and hurt/comfort, happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, internal conflict, secrets, guilt

The dark outside the bus didn't feel real. The worn pleather seats of the greyhound bus didn't feel real. Josh couldn't feel his hand, either despite or in spite of the fact that he'd been gripping the arm rest to his left for the entire bus ride. He was stressed, which was probably bad for- No. No, he didn't want to think about that right now. Nothing about today, or yesterday, or any day before. As far as Josh could process right now, this was the beginning.

Terminarch Posted June 1st; approx 3k words Tags: banditos, dreams and nightmares, being lost, apocalypse, dema, frostbite, winter, headaches & migraines, aliens, alien abduction, apply ship goggles to taste, hurt/comfort, bad ending, self-sacrifice, friendship/love, body horror, angst

He has a headache, but that's an understatement.

Lazarus Posted Sept. 7th; approx 1k words Tags: religious imagery & symbolism, cults, good day dema, scaled and icy, past character death, resurrection

"Do you know your name, honey?" she asks with that same smile plastered on her face. Her mascara looks even messier up close; Tyler stares at a piece of hair that's fallen into her face. "Tyler," he says. "And do you know how you got here?" He searches his mind for an answer, absently reaching for something he cannot see or feel. Tyler comes up empty. "No."

Guarding The Gates (But It All Got Away) Posted Oct. 31st; approx 22k words Tags: trench, dema, past abuse, idiots in love, established relationship, fictober, hurt/comfort, angst, past character death, head injury, good day dema, propaganda, implied sexual content, headaches & migraines, dreams, torture, implied/referenced brainwashing, angst and hurt/comfort, crying, body horror

Since the destruction of the vials in the Tower of Silence, there have been no further mysterious disappearances from Tyler or any of the other banditos. However, things are changing in the city in ways the banditos hadn't expected, and they'll have to adapt to match the bishops' attempts at control. There's something unknown at play here, something none of them fully understand, and it's remained hidden long enough.

Suburban Dream Posted Oct. 31st; approx 4k words Tags: established relationship, angst, hopeful ending, relationship issues, arguing, blood and gore, murder, cannibalism, suburbia, revenge, serial killers, supernatural elements, implied sexual content, violence

Tyler is not a man driven to the edge. Or, he's one of those things. Maybe romance isn't dead after all.

Made To Live (Set Things Right) Last updated Nov. 8th; approx 7k words Tags: the outside music video, dema, trench, memory loss, shipwrecked, scaled and icy, saturday, ned

How smart is this thing? Is Ned its name, or is that what it thinks he is? Is he going crazy? Josh swallows, clears his throat, and points at himself. "Josh?" he says, more like a question than a statement.

Double Check For Double Meanings Posted Nov. 11th; approx 8k words Tags: femslash, genderbending, useless lesbians, celebrity crush, party, hook-up, strangers to lovers, bisexual female character, lesbian character, alternate universe, lady pilots, non-explicit sex, mild sexual content, songfic

She's hot. She's a bitch. She's a whore; she's a prude. She acts like she owns the world. She does own the world. She's a killer, and she'll break your heart if you let her. Josh isn't put off by any of this, even if she knows a lot of people are.

How Jim Saved Christmas Posted Dec. 25th; approx 2k words Tags: animal pov, christmas, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-relationship, getting together, meet-cute, fluff, christmas fluff, romantic comedy

It's almost Christmas, and Jim is running out of time to find the perfect gift for his human, Josh. What's a good dog to do?

[littlebarrelboy]

auld lang syne || Bu

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?

takes place: dec. 28

in which Barrel and Su say goodbye...

@princess-su

[tw: discussion of death, literally one of the most bittersweet things i’ve ever rp’d im tearing up as i post this oh my god]

BARREL:

Barrel stood at the train station. Luckily for him, he didn’t have much to pack and it had all fit in this old suitcase that he’d found at Whosits. Most of his clothes and stuff had burned back in the fire in August. He had some new stuff that Shock and Lock had bought him with Anthony’s credit card. He had some Christmas presents. He had things from the Qins. He had the Nintendo Switch that Lock had given him for Christmas.

The one Lock had not gotten to see him open.

That one was actually in his backpack.

His train was theoretically coming in fifteen minutes, but he’d wanted to get here early. The train would take him to a little suburb outside of Cardiff,  Holley Shiftwell  had told him, where he would meet a short, dark-haired woman with bangs named Jane who would escort him to a family. They’re really nice, Holley had reassured him. We’ve been working with them for years — they looked after me when my parents were in Russia.

This was the right decision. Barrel would finish up school in Wales. Barbie and Holley told him the RAS would take care of all the paperwork. Shock said she’d pay for any university he needed, if he decided to go with that. He wouldn’t be anyone’s problem. He could figure out a life for himself.

But he glanced at Su now, and with a pang to his heart, he wondered if this was the right decision.

She was the only one who’d accompanied him to the station. He didn’t know where Mei was, but he’d left her a note. He’d cracked Ting’s door open to say goodbye and she’d jumped up, apologizing over and over about how she’d forgotten and how she could be ready in just a second. But he told her it was no worry. That he could go on his own. Ting-Ting looked tired. She looked like how he felt a lot of the time, like he wanted to cry  but had a hard time figuring out how to start the tears.

That was why he was leaving.

The Qins thought it was social services who stepped in after Ting reported it all to the police, which wasn’t super far from the truth, Holley had said. He could still write to them and text them and play Animal Crossing with Su.

“I’ll send you a Dodo code as soon as I get my wifi set up in Wales,” he told her right now, trying to smile.

SU: The day had come too quick. That’s what Su wanted to tell Barrel when he spoke of Dodo codes and wifi. She didn’t want to think about how they’d have to do that method now instead of the easier, closer local play option. It was less of a hassle, honestly.

Of all things for her to focus on when Barrel spoke, that had to be the silliest. But she would rather think of something silly that could help her return the small, sad smile than the reality of the situation. The reality of their lives now. Lives that would now be lived apart.

Which, really, was the normal for them. Honestly, they’d only become so close within the past year. Only met each other in that time as well. But the tragedies they’ve stood by each other throughout, it made her feel like she’d known him for a lifetime. And now that life was coming to an end. Waiting like this train, ready to whisk Barrel - her friend, someone dear to her - away.

It was selfish to feel this way, she knows, enlight of everything that’s happened to him. It’s why she didn’t say any of this and simply nodded, hands gripped tight together behind her back as she looked at her feet. “You better. I'm going to start setting up a fun New Year’s firework show and I need you to see it.”

This was the right decision. He deserved to leave this pain behind, even if that means leaving Swynlake. And whatever decisions he makes going forward, she’d support him. Because she was his friend, and he deserved a soft epilogue, if you will, after the chaos of his teenage years, his childhood.

“You stay warm too. It’s really cold out today, and going to be even colder tonight,” She fussed, moving closer to fix his jacket, as if doing so would just make it warmer.

BARREL:

At the mention of New Year’s, Barrel remembered something. It hit him with a jolt and he immediately bent to reach for his bag — just as Su reached for his jacket.

“Woops sorry — “ Their foreheads almost collided. Barrel felt his face flush. He looked at Su. She was very near him. She smelled very nice. She was very warm.

He was going to miss her a lot.

That thought also hit him with a jolt.

He knew he was gonna miss Swynlake — miss school and his friends and going to soccer games and working the counter in Whosits. He was going to miss the Qin house and how it always smelled like something yummy and he was going to miss Ting randomly singing and Mei laughing and MuHou telling stories. He was going to miss Su, but it didn’t hit him till right now how much.

She was very pretty.

Also, at one point he’d reached for her hand as it rested on the collar of his jacket. He didn’t realize that till right now.

“I got you a birthday present,” he said. He realized he was still holding her hand and let it go. “It’s in my bag — one second — “

He rifled through his backpack and pulled out a little gift bag from the front pocket. His cheeks felt very warm still. Hadn’t Su said it was cold? It didn’t feel cold.

“You can open it now if you want,” he said, handing her the bag. “I’m sorry for missing your birthday. I got this … well, before everything. I hope you like it.”

He’d picked out the gift because of Animal Crossing, but also because Su liked plants and her magic was plants and Barrel always thought that was so fitting.

SU: “Sorry,” Su also said, the apology mixing with his in the wind at their clumsiness. But she chuckled a little. “My bad.”

His hand at some point came to hold hers. It was big and warm compared to her tiny ones that always struggled to hold any heat. It fit perfectly, she thought. Comfortable and safe. Like that night so long ago when he’d first come to the Qins’ home. Somehow, he’d seemed so small then. Someone she wanted to protect and cradle in her world, inside their home of magic.

When did she have to tilt her head up so high to look at him?

She blinked just as she did so, his words taking a moment to process as his hand left hers and then she was holding a present. “Birthday present…?” She questioned, looking at it a moment longer before realizing - oh yeah. Her birthday. She was going to be seventeen at the start of the new year.

Her face warmed as she smiled down into the bag. Of all things he was worried about…

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…” She started, quickly opening it so he could see her reaction. And she hoped it didn’t disappoint. Honestly, anything Barrel would give her, she would have loved, but something about this necklace… Why did she want to cry? She held it in. Instead, she smiled wide and looked at him. “It’s so pretty, Barrel! I love it!” She said, before throwing herself on him in a hug. Trying to hide those tears. “I promise I’ll always wear it.”

BARREL:

Su hugged him.

His arms fit around her waist, pulling her closer. Truth be told, he was crying a little bit too now, though he didn’t realize she was crying, only that he was crying and he didn’t want Su to see that he was crying.

For a second, he wanted to stay.

He thought about what it would mean to stay. To graduate from Swynlake Secondary. To go to Pride U with the money that Shock had given him. To continue living with the Qins, and sitting for dinner and Sunday morning pancakes. He thought about that for a moment, clinging to a warm, impossible dream.

Because he knew it was impossible. Because it wouldn’t be the life he thought it would. Because Lock was dead and Shock was gone and everything had changed. He didn’t know what that would mean for the future in his head, but Barbie had offered him a way out. A place where Lock and Shock didn’t haunt every corner. A place where his parents had never touched.

For the first time in his life, Barrel saw the possibilities that offered. He had to take it.

He’d just miss Su a lot.

He pulled away to tell her this, to try and say something about how he really wanted that other life — the one where he stayed, the one where he went to Pride U, the one where they got to celebrate her birthday together and eat pancakes — how he wanted that one to happen, but at the same time, he wanted it to never happen, because it was golden, warm, bright, and untouched by reality.

In some pocket universe, it happened and it was very nice over there and he was very happy for that.

He wanted to tell this to Su and he looked down at her, about to, but the words were too complicated and Barrel wasn’t good with words, so somewhere along the line,  they got caught in his throat. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say, so instead of saying any of that, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Su's.

It was a short kiss — short and golden and warm and bright.

SU: Stay.

The plea was on the tip of her tongue. Su felt it. Even as she tried to smother it and the rest of the storm in her mind. Don’t leave me in this mess alone. She didn’t feel strong enough. Even as she held onto him now, she felt maybe if she let go, he’d never leave. She could keep him here with her, and then maybe things would go back to normal.

But that was selfish and untrue, no matter how loud her thoughts were.

Then everything seemed to go silent with a sudden kiss.

Her eyes widened. Her face flushed. She’d never been kissed before. Her first kiss. And it was a kiss goodbye. Despite how bittersweet it was, she felt incredibly warm. And her fingers curled into his coat, pulling him closer into the kiss - only for a few seconds more, it’d feel like it was just them there. She wished that were true.

But with one bold action, she knew one thing: she knew Barrel would be okay. She knew things would be far from easy but - she believed in him. Believed in him and the person she knew he’d grow to be while also staying the kind boy she met in the Swynlake Secondary cafeteria and let into their home. It was the only reason she was able to pull away with the kiss with a warm smile.

“We’re going to be okay. I promise,” She said, smiling while wiping at her tears, the necklace still clutched in her hand. “You’ll always have a home with us too, if you ever want to come back, even for a visit.”

A visit. Yeah, that would be nice. And then this would be less like a goodbye and more like...see you later. Su liked that a lot better. Even if later was...years from now.

BARREL:

He had to go.

Barrel was even more sure of this after kissing Su.

It had been a nice kiss. He liked it a lot. It was a very good first kiss (he didn’t even realize it was his first kiss till right now and now he felt very bubbly and light that Su had been his first kiss). And maybe one day they could kiss again. Maybe one day.

But Barrel had to figure out who he was and what he was going to be that one day. Barrel had spent nearly 18 years of his life defined by Shock and Lock. He loved them. He loved them more than anything — including himself.

He needed to figure out who he was without them. He couldn’t do that in Swynlake, not in the home where his brother died and his sister left, not a few streets down from the burned remains of their house. He had to do that on his own. In Wales, which was not so far away.

He could always visit.

There was a future for Barrel. For maybe the first time in his life, there was a future.

“Thank you for everything, Su,” he said, gently touching her hair. “I don’t know how I would’ve… without you and your sisters. Without you…” His voice trailed off and he reached for her hand to give it another squeeze. “We’ll always have Animal Crossing, at least. I can’t wait to show you my island once I get it looking nice.”

He smiled a little, just as the train started to whistle into the station. A lump formed in his throat and he tried not to count the seconds till it pulled in fully and just enjoy these last moments with Su. 

SU: Su swallowed thickly. Swallowing more tears, not allowing anymore to fall. She had to remind herself this wasn’t truly a goodbye. The world was so small because of phones and the Internet. She could talk to him every night still. Even though it’d hardly ever be the same.

She squeezed his hand back. Go. Live. “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I - we’d  - do it all again,” She smiled, forcing herself to let go of his hand - to let him go. “Remember what I said about turnip exchange! It’s a life changer!”

She laughed at that, but really used it to cover up any sobs that might want to bubble out. She’d be okay. They’d be okay. He’d be okay. That was all that mattered now. She was still suspicious about the story he told them but...it wasn’t her place to ask about social services.

She trusted he knew what he was doing.

She took a step back, glancing up at the train and smiled. It hurt. But if she could distance herself, it’d hurt less and be easier to watch him go. “You better hurry so you can get a good spot and get your luggage put up. I…” She looked at him then to her feet. Then back at him. “Text me when you get there, ‘kay?”

BARREL:

“I will,” said Barrel. His head still spun from the kiss. He’d already picked up his duffle bag. He’d taken a step back from Su, not realizing she’d done the same. The distance between them now could not be closed with an embrace. Soon he’d get on the train and the train would bring him further and further away —

He couldn’t think of it like that. He could still talk to Su. He’d just said he was going to text her, after all. They’d meet on Animal Crossing. He’d text all his friends: JJ, Nemo, Finn, Wilbur, and Tony. Maybe some of them would text back. He’d video call Su and Ting-Ting and Mei and show them his new room and tell Su about his new school and his new town.

But he would also go to a new school. He’d meet new friends who didn’t know about Lock and Shock or his parents. He’d graduate. He’d go to university. He would study animals and he would get a job at any place he could work with them. He would become a zookeeper one day, in the far future, and he would get an apartment of his own where he fed cats behind the building and took them home.

He’d see Shock. He’d see Su and Mei and Ting-Ting. They could come to his apartment and meet his cats and he would learn how to cook so he could make them dinner like they did for him so many times.

One day, maybe, he would even come back to Swynlake.

He didn’t know if that would happen, actually. Or when that would happen. Right now, he couldn’t think of Swynlake without thinking of Lock — and Shock and his parents.

One day, maybe, he would come to this station again and when he stepped off the train, he would smile at the town.

Right now though, his smile was for Su.

“Goodbye Su,” he said, touching her shoulder gently. When he glanced back, stepping on the train, it was for her. He found a good seat by the window, pressing his face against it, waving as the train rolled out of the station. When Su was nothing more than a speck in the distance, when he squinted and couldn’t see the town, Barrel sat back in his seat.

He took a deep breath. His heart hammered, but — he felt light. He felt hopeful. He could see a future for himself, bright and clear.

Barrel closed his eyes and he dreamt of lions.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM/MGG Reunion Fic Challenge

The following are prompts including a Reunion between old friends/lovers!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

Open General Prompts

Reader was a sheriff/related to a victim… and now works for the FBI.

Last time they met, they were a profiler(s). This time, they are an unsub.

Person A and B were close before they got whisked away into Witsec // “I figured you were just trying to get away from me and were very dedicated.”

Person A has been undercover for years now, unable to see Person B. After their undercover mission is complete, the two reunite and Person A isn't the same person they used to be.

Person A a bit more assertive than Person B remembers them being…

An ex (partner or bf/gf) shows up at the door with nowhere else to go.

Person A runs into an old one night stand or ex years later… on the one day they happen to be wearing an item of their clothing they swore they couldn’t find.

Person A and B met by happenstance years ago (airport, bus, ran into each other on the street). They didn’t get each other’s numbers and always regretted it. One day, fate brings them together again.

A funeral wasn’t the way they wanted to reunite.

Person A is the ex spouse of Person B… who no one knew had ever been married.

Person A and B reunite with palpable tension… only to realize one of them has a troubling secret.

Anything else you can think of!

Character Specific Prompts

Spencer: Reader had the office across from Professor Reid when he suddenly left. A few years later, he returned.

Spencer: Reader was his star pupil before he left. Years later, he returns, only to find out someone familiar took over his old office (you became a professor — inspired by him).

Spencer: Reader thought they were ghosted. Yeah. He was in prison.

Hotch: Reader never pursued him because he was married. It takes a few weeks to learn he is no longer married.

Hotch: Reader was a defense attorney in his prosecutor days.

Emily: Things are different this time, now that Emily has come out.

Emily: Reader seeks out the mysterious woman she met in Paris.

JJ: Reader notices something is different when she returned to the BAU.

JJ: Reader was the star of the rival sports team. They place a match for old times sake. Things get... tense.

Derek: Reader was his playful rival in law school.

Derek: Reader talks about how much he's grown since they were kids.

Wes: Towel girl runs into Wes... and Jules.

Raymond Wadsworth: Reader is ecstatic to find out the boy they had a hopeless crush on returned to town, even though he seems different.

Chip Taylor: "Do I even want to know where the money came from?" // "No. Definitely not."

Kyle Orfman: Somehow it is even more awkward running into an ex during the apocalypse.

Rules

The fic can be a Reader insert, or a character/character ship. It can feature any Criminal Minds character or ship.

Tag me in the fic, or send it to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it just for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

[bibliocratic]

clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags

They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.

Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.

The end. In conclusion. Fin.

-

Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.

The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.

Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.

Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.

-

Martin is happy.

-

It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.

It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.

It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.

The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.

Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.

Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.

He does not wake Jon.

-

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”

-

He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?

--

Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.

Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.

He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.

He just has to try harder.

-

Night-time.

An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.

The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.

A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.

Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.

-

Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.

-

Jon is happy.

-

Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:

“I can’t fit into my jeans.”

Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.

“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”

“Or it’s middle age.”

“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”

“Or other people’s terror.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”

Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.

He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.

He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

His hands shake.

He doesn’t go back to bed.

-

He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.

-

Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.

Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.

Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.  

Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.

Check. Check. Check.

-

Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –

-

Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.

The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.

The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.

The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.

This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.

And Jon is happy.

All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.

I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.

The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.

-

They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.

Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.

Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.

-

He wants to have a good night’s sleep.

-

“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”

“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”

“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”

-

He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.

He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.

-

The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.

Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.

-

“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”

“…  you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.

-

“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”

Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.

-

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.

He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.

His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.

He is so so tired.

Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.

He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.

Punch. Gasp.

His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…

“Martin?”

I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…

His shoulders start to shake.

“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.

“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”

“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”

“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”

Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.

“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”

“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”

“Oh, Martin – ”

His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.

“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.

“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.

“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”

Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.

Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures 

Read on AO3

~

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited. 

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.  

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

~

Next Chapter

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[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[bitletsanddrabbles]

One True Set Of Infinitely Interchangeable Variables

This post is for all of my followers and mutuals (or, more accurately, mutuals and mutuals I follow back) who are die hard Thomas/Richard shippers and who are probably going to utterly despair as my work takes a hard turn toward Thomas/Guy for a bit. Allow me to offer a bit of reassurance:

My brain doesn’t really do OTPs. I’m not saying I haven’t had one or two in my time, but for the most part, it’s just not how I’m set up to think. If it looks like I have an OTP, it’s simply because none of the alternate pairings on offer appeal at all. I’m still open to suggestions. On the one hand, that means I’m not going to adhere staunchly to the H.M.S. Thomas/Richard*. If nothing else, Fellowes just handed me the perfect premise for finally doing a Gosford Park crossover, if I can just cobble together a plot (my nemesis!).

On the other hand, it means I’m not going to simply pack my bags and abandon ship either.

Most of my romantic WIPs from before the film release involve Richard Ellis and that will not change. Admittedly, I don’t know how many of them I’ll - did I remember to put a spoiler tag on my last post? *checks* Crap. No. *fixes that* - anyway, as I was saying, I don’t know how many of them I will finish. There’s at least one that was supposed to be canon compliant that I’ve lost all interest in now that the canon has shifted, but it was getting nowhere at twice the speed of light anyway, so it’s no big loss. But the odds that I won’t finish one or two is basically zero.

Unless something massive happens, like my being run over by a bus, in which case it’s a non-issue because I won’t be writing period.

Also, my muse is an Anglophile, so while I do have a bunch of immediate ideas for H.M.S. Thomas/Guy, once those peter out, my brain will probably pack its bags and move back to Yorkshire. This may or may not actually involve Richard, but odds are not terrible.

Then again, heck, I might manage to get my noggin to focus on the other stories I originally had for the ‘Moroccan Sun’ verse, or something like that. You never know with me. I certainly don’t!

And of course, I’m not predominantly a romance writer, so no matter what happens there will be lots of Thomas being Thomas and interacting with people without any form of lovey dovey anything. That’s not going to change either.

So! That is the basic shape of things. Hope you are all well and that, if you were fretting, this eases the worry, at least a bit.

*Yes, I know, name mashing would work better for ship names. I acknowledge this. I just hate it that much, so I can’t.