#but anyway this is quite a good fic i have read ch 1

[theriverbeyond]

I don't know about Harrow, but I can imagine Gideon wanting kids because in the tlt universe having children is almost completely divorced from physical pregnancy, to the point that it is treated as a novelty that both Gideon and Harrow were physically born. Ianthe would also want to babytrap someone and then forget the child existed.

have i got the fic rec for you!! and rising in the dead of night by a_big_apple, where Ianthe gets a vat womb and then Kiriona gets a kid

[hot-soop]

don't let me tempt you / ch.1

pairing: angel!seokjin x angel!f.reader ⇢ au: Good Omens universe (none of the characters or the plot are mentioned so this fic can be read without knowing anything of Good Omens) ⇢ genre: forbidden romance, friends 2 lovers, comedy(?), fluff, eventual smut (not in this chapter) ⇢ summary: Seokjin is temporarily banished from Heaven and you're not all that good at paperwork. ⇢ chapter wc: 4.5k ⇢ rating: fic rating is explicit/18+ for eventual smut; chapter rating is 16 & up bc they're the equivalent of ken dolls rn, but minors please DNI anyway. This isn't for you. ⇢ chapter warnings: LOTS of religious imagery bc this is set in the Good Omens universe and there's gonna be a bunch of biblical references, but please remember that this isn't meant to be accurate. Author is an atheist. Author did next to no research on calendars that pre-date the Georgian one bc she is lazy and can't do maths. Swearing. If there's any tags you think I'm missing, please let me know - I'd hate to be the cause of any upset or discomfort <3 ⇢ a/n: thank u to my beloveds @the-boy-meets-evil and @ugh-yoongi for reading this over and thinking my babies are cute. thank u to my angel @effortandmore for your encouragement! Ur all cute too. Ily

1106 BC

Time in 1106 BC follows some kind of construct that the author has not deemed necessary to research, but if the Georgian calendar (or indeed days of the week) had been invented, the day our story begins would be in mid April, on a Tuesday, around 3pm. 

The weather in Heaven is, as you would expect, perfect. The company is not.

“Sorry to bring you in here like this,” you say, as the thirteenth angel of the day takes a seat on the other side of your desk.

There’s a spiel to this. Angels have a tendency to lean towards the dramatic, so you’ve learned the ways of ‘softening the blow’, as the humans call it. Doling out God’s punishments wasn’t your preferred assignment, but it’s the role that was dropped in your lap after you quit the last - and you’re not in a position to refuse Her again. Here goes another. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but-”

“Let me guess,” the other angel interjects. “She’s demoting me?”

This is unusual. The angels know God’s wrath, but they’re usually surprised to find out when said wrath is directed toward them specifically. Not this one, he’s sitting there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, waiting for you to rip off the bandaid. 

“Uhh. A temporary banishment actually.”

He stares at you. “It was only a little miracle.” 

“Three very large miracles, I’ll have you know. We’re not supposed to be bringing people back from the dead anymore.”

“Since when?” he asks, rather like a petulant human toddler. 

You frown. “Since protocol changed - didn’t you read the memo?” The angel shakes his head. “God’s decided to save those types of miracles for someone really special in-” You pause to check your watch “- a thousand years, give or take a century.” 

“Special how?” The angel asks, sitting up a little straighter. 

“You know we’re not told details of The Great Plan.” You flip the file shut. “Well, it seems like you know the issue at hand, and there’s little else to discuss-”

There’s a look of unease creeping over his assigned face that gives you pause. His fingertips drum on his knee. Too human for a heavenly body. “Are you alright?”

“She’s not- they’re not going to cut-”

“Oh! Goodness no,” you’re quick to reassure. “Oh no, you’d have to do something really awful for that, like, question her authority like Lucifer did.” His laugh comes out like a bark, and you’re confused because it wasn’t a joke. “No, but I am terribly sorry to say that you’re being sentenced to four-hundred years on Earth.”

He blinks twice. “Excuse me?”

“Four-hundred years - horrid, I know. But God does say the punishment must fit the deed-”

You’re interrupted again, this time by the kind of laughter that starts as disbelief and quickly has his shoulders shaking and tears rolling down his cheeks. Most unusual. 

“You’re telling me I get to spend near half a century on Earth?”

“What do you mean ‘get to’?” The thought of even spending ten years in such a place sends shivers right through your wings. “You won’t be able to return to heaven at all during that time. No correspondence with anyone, unless of course we contact you first.” He’s positively glowing and you can’t understand it. “You’ll have to live amongst humans-”

He’s standing now, moving to the screen and zooming in on earth. “Can I pick where?”

You move to stand next to him. He’s zoomed in so far, you can’t quite tell where it’s supposed to be. In truth, you spend very little time looking over God’s preferred planet, choosing instead to focus on the vastness of the universe in all its glory. You prefer the stars and the galaxies and all of their colours. 

“May I?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Can I choose where to live? Will I have a role?” 

There’s nothing like this in the training manual. No one ever has these questions. They’re too busy crying, wailing for another chance to stay in heaven, let alone look excited as this one does. 

“I suppose you could,” you say slowly. “And no - there’s no role.” You wait for the penny to drop, but he doesn’t seem to get it. “Pointlessness is the point of this sentence.”

Wonder breaks out in his expression, and he turns back to the screen and zooms in on a peninsular you’ve never noticed before. “Can you drop me here?”

“Where’s here?”

“Gojoseon.”

“Why?” 

“Good people.” His smile spreads wide. “Good food.”

You gasp. “You’ve consumed their provisions? You’ve eaten?”

He looks at you in shock. “You haven’t?”

Of course you flaming haven’t! Even if you could stomach it - how in heaven would you get the opportunity to dine on Earth, what with all the work piling up in your pigeonhole and the lack of angels rights to paid time off, not to mention a union?

Your expression must say it all because he laughs again and says, “Well then visit me sometime, I’ll cook for you.” 

“You’re very peculiar.”

“Yes,” he says with a shrug. “I get that a lot.” 

You move back over to the desk to complete the rest of the paperwork while he stands there, still looking at the map with a satisfied smile.

After a few moments, he says, “I’ll need a name if I’m to live with humans.”

You find his given name at the top of the page. Soterasiel. 

“What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

He shrugs again. “Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue for everyone.”

“I hear John is rather popular these days,” you muse, still checking boxes. “And Abraham. Or what about Jos-”

“Seokjin.”

“Bless you.”

“No, I mean- Seokjin.” He moves to sit back down. You don’t quite like it, the way he walks, like he’s got a bravado he hasn’t done anything to earn - rather the opposite in fact, given his grievous error in judgement. “That’s my new name.” 

“Oh-” You glance up at him. “It suits you.”

Seokjin beams. He’s quiet for the next few moments, but you can sense his eagerness as he watches your fingertip move down the page. When all the documents are signed, you show him over to the chute, and he peers into it.

“This is the one-way?” 

You nod. “We’ll send someone to relieve you once your sentence is up.”

He steps inside without hesitation, and it’s almost too late. You've been itching with curiosity since you opened his file, so you blurt out exactly what you’re not supposed to ask.

“Why did you do it?”

Seokjin tilts his head, confused.

“Why did you bring those humans back from the dead?” you clarify.

His eyes soften. “They’re my favourites.” 

There’s a pregnant pause as you regard him. You don’t understand. Favourites? Angels aren’t supposed to have favourites. Angels aren’t supposed to be anything like him. Maybe you haven’t met enough to speak on the matter.

“Come visit me, won’t you? I get the impression you’ll like it down there.”

And before you can scoff at the very idea of visiting a banished (albeit temporarily) angel on earth, the chute opens up below him and he’s gone.

It’s difficult to get back to work after all that. All day there are punishments to give out in God’s name, but thankfully they’re nothing as extreme as that one. You get through a few sanctions, several warnings filed, and a strongly worded letter to the Department of Animals to remind them to stop creating wasps (apparently earth has enough) and then (at what would usually be known as 6pm), like clockwork, Turiel enters your office. 

He’s another one you can’t get a read on, but in an entirely different way. He came up the ranks quickly, and became your boss without the necessary qualifications within a single century. He’s kind of course, but he’s a Watcher, so naturally he watches everything. Being watched makes you uncomfortable. 

“How is everything?”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

“What happened with the banishment this morning?”

“With Seok- Soterasiel? He took it rather well.” Turiel stares at you, and you clear your throat to fill the awkward quiet. “Seemed quite happy about it, actually.”

Turiel frowns. “That’s odd.”

“Yes, quite.”

“We should watch that one,” he says, already making his way out. “Oh- you remembered to strip his miracles, correct?”

Strip his- why in heaven would you do that? It seems horribly cruel enough just to leave them there, let alone take their ability to do anything worthwhile. 

“Sorry?”

Turiel stops on the spot and turns, frown deepening further. “Tell me you saw the memo from Metatron? We’re to strip any and all banishments of their miracles going forward. Too many mishaps and too many angel turned demon that still have their powers.”

If you had any blood in your face it would surely drain. No, you haven’t seen any blasted memo. The pigeonhole is stuffed to burst and it’s something you’ve been meaning to work through, you truly have, but there’s so little time in the day and- and- heavens, he’s still staring at you. Tell him the truth. Tell him you didn’t take Seokjin’s miracles. They’d overlook one error, especially as it’s the first offence. Surely?

“No need to worry,” you hear yourself say, voice unnaturally high. “Of course I did.” 

Turiel blinks, smiles with relief, and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

For the first time in your existence, you’re tempted to curse. 

879 BC

6:43pm. Patchy rain showers through til 8.

Seokjin’s home looks like nothing. A shack at best. It’s hardly worthy of the name home but you still need his sodding permission to cross the threshold, so you knock and wait, huddling as close to the door as possible to keep dry. As the rain pelts your back you bitterly wonder why angels have to wait at the threshold for permission to enter. It’s utterly beyond you, surely such a restraint could be reserved for those who are up to no good?

(You pointedly ignore the little voice saying that you are actually up to no good.)

“Oh my God,” Seokjin says when he opens the door (if it weren’t for the threshold force you’d keel over) and your nose wrinkles automatically at the blasphemy. “It’s you.”

“May I come in?” you say, too busy watching for Watchers in your peripherals to take in the sight of the angel in front of you. It would be terrible to be caught now, after the web of lies you weaved in order to get an hour off work. 

“Why?” he asks, suspicion lacing his voice. “You’re not bringing me back early are you?”

“Oh heavens no,” you say, starting to feel a little desperate, pushing the wet hair from your eyes. “I forgot something in your documents, a quick signature and I’ll be off in a jiffy.”

“You forgot something?”

“Yes-” 

“And you decided two hundred and twenty-seven years later was the right time to fix that?”

“Time slips away when you’re working!” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Your lot really need to unionise.”

“Shh!” you hiss. “Let me in, please?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, stepping aside. “Come on in. Take your shoes off at the door.”

“I don’t have shoes,” you say as you push past him. A little miracle as soon as you’re out of the rain has you dry and warm again. What a pity, you think, that Seokjin will have to live without these little perks for the rest of his banishment. The sympathy you feel for him catches you unawares.  “What are shoes?”

Seokjin smiles. “Thought you were a watcher?”

Part Cherubim part Virtue actually, but you won’t be telling Seokjin that. That’s between you and God. You bustle past him inside the shack and you can finally relax. All protocols are being broken right now, but with the teeny tiny miracle that you performed earlier, only you and Seokjin will know about this clandestine meeting.  

Seokjin’s home is much nicer on the inside. Rather homely. And clean. And it smells good. What is that smell? 

“I just made some tea, would you like a cup?” 

Drinking? Apparently you can’t hide your expression because Seokjin's responding smile is mirthful. “Haven’t changed much, have you?”

“I suppose not, no.”

There’s no time to dilly dally like this. If you’re not back in the office soon, there’ll be questions you won’t know how to answer without twisting the truth. An angel can’t be going around telling lies. It’s uncouth. 

Seokjin busies himself at the table while you unroll the documents. The scroll is horribly long, but eventually you find the line you missed all those years ago. You cough to get his attention, and he looks up and takes the scroll from your outstretched hand. 

But then he starts to read. Oh goodness gracious. You hadn’t expected that. He seemed the sort that wouldn’t get hung up on the details, that would trust an angel (one like yourself in particular) implicitly. It’s offensive, actually, that he doesn’t trust that you’re not trying to pull the wool over his eyes, even though that might be exactly what you were trying to do. Are you not trustworthy? Are you not angelic?

Seokjin frowns. Uh oh. 

“You’re taking my miracles?”

“Uh-”

“Why?”

“Well- uh. It’s protocol, you see.”

Seokjin stares. The silence is palpable.

“You fucked up.”

You gasp. “Don’t curse!”

“You did!” he says, eyes wild. “You fucked up when you sent me down here!”

There’s heat creeping up your neck.

“It really doesn’t need to be such a big to-do,” you splutter. “Just sign the form, and I’ll be on my way and then you’ll be back in Heaven in no time at all!”

“But I won’t have my miracles?”

“You’ll get them back on your return!” 

“What if I need them?”

“You won’t.”

“I’ve needed them a lot, actually,” Seokjin insists. “You’ve no idea how many sticky situations I’ve been in thanks to all the creatures our Heavenly Mother made!”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Have you seen a tiger yet? Those are my favourite.”

Seokjin looks like he might slap you.

The door opens.

“Seokjinie-hyung! We’re back!”

We? Who’s we?

We are three men, one short, one tall, and one somewhere in the middle. 

The room is very suddenly too small and too quiet as all of you stare at each other. 

The small one’s eyes, wide and curious, dart between you and Seokjin. 

“Who’s this, Seokjin hyung?”

“Uh-” you say.

“Uhh-” says Seokjin.

You can’t think of a human name. Not a single, blasted one comes to mind. Of course, humans know angels exist, but you can’t go around telling everyone who you are when you’re not exactly here on official business. Their mouths blabber too much. Word on Earth gets around faster than in Heaven.

“This is-”

“Oh my God-” the somewhere-in-the-middle one exclaims, while you grimace. “You’re that angel hyung told us about!”

You turn to glare at Seokjin, who is all of sudden very interested in the wood grain on the table. His ears are strawberry red. Strawberries were one of your ideas, you’d know that colour anywhere.

“You told them?” you say, incredulously. “What were you thinking?”

Seokjin sighs. “They’re not going to say anything.”

“Yeah!” the small one says. “Don’t worry, we’ve kept Seokijn hyung’s secret for two cent-”

He’s cut off by a loud cough from the tall one, but you’re not stupid. Humans aren’t supposed to be alive that long anymore, not since The Great Flood when God finally got sick of Noah and his bothersome family - that was one of the few memos you read. 

“Seokjin-” you say slowly. He’s pointedly looking everywhere else but your face. “Are these the same humans you told me about during our first meeting?”

The small one grins. “Oh hyung, I knew you loved us more than you let on.”

Two centuries they’ve been alive - at least. Oh Goodness. You need to report it, but how could you without telling them you didn’t do your job properly. 

“You don’t need to say anything to Heaven,” Seokjin says. “What they don’t know doesn’t hurt them.”

“The protocol-” you start, but you’re cut off by a groan.

“Fuck the protocol! Don’t you want to think for yourself for once? Didn’t She give us free will for a reason?”

“She gave them free will, not us!” you reason. “We’re to do as we’re told!”

“Why? What for?”

“The Great Plan!”

“The Great Plan-” he parrots in the most condescending tone. “-is supposed to be ineffable. If we knew what was in it, we wouldn’t have a choice. If I didn’t have free will, I wouldn’t have been able to turn them into vampires.”

You frown, confused. Vampires weren’t in the handbook, but then you never could keep up. “What’s a vampire?”

Seokjin swallows thickly. “Uh. Nevermind that. The point is, if this wasn’t in The Great Plan, if it wasn’t written, would I have even been able to do it?”

The thought gives you pause. He’s got a point, actually. The Archangels talk often of fate and destiny and what She wrote. No one knows the plan, of course, and it can change at Her will, but the whole point of this charade is that you’re all to trust in God’s Plan, regardless of what happens.

There’s a long moment of silence. The three men- or rather, vampires- are still just standing there watching the two of you argue. 

The small one finally breaks the tension and introduces himself. “I’m Jimin,” he says.

You nod, and give your name. He repeats it, butchering the pronunciation, but of course you expected that. Humans have never quite managed to get their tongue around it. You muse for a moment if you should give yourself a more human name, like Seokjin, but your thoughts are interrupted by the large one. 

“I’m Namjoon,” he says, and points to the last one, who gives a tentative wave. “This is Taehyung.”

You nod again, and start to feel a little ridiculous.

Okay, so the plan needs to be adjusted. You can’t take away Seokjin’s miracles without getting him to undo whatever he did to the human-vampires. 

“How long have you all been alive?” 

Namjoon glances at Seokjin, who nods. “Around three hundred years.”

“Okay,” you say. “And do you plan on dying any time soon?”

The three of them stare at you. “It’s not something we’d considered, no,” whispers Jimin. 

“Right,” you say, and then turn to Seokjin. “You need to fix this, make them human again. I’ve got to go, they’ll be looking for me, but I’ll be back soon to check in on you so you’d better have done it by then.”

Seokjin’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat. It’s… somewhat pleasant to look at.

“Pleasure to meet you everyone,” you say tightly to Seokjin’s friends. “Enjoy the rest of your lives.”

You catch their confused expressions shift into something horrified before you appear back at your desk in Heaven. It leaves you befuddled. That was a perfectly pleasant first interaction with humans that are aware of your celestial-ness - you’re not quite sure what they could be so bothered about.

827 BC

Early Autumn. 8:12am. Current Earthly conditions: foggy

It’s another fifty years or so before you can catch a break long enough to get back down to Earth. The shack has improved drastically - quite the pleasant looking home in fact. There’s flower boxes on the windowsills that are covered in a light morning dew, but the plants seem hardy. Purples and yellows. Dainty looking little things. You wonder what they might be. 

The door opens as you bend to smell them, and you look up to find the angel wrapped up in the largest item of clothing you’ve ever seen for something that just seems to be used for a neck. It’s ever so bright. Mismatched colours and patterns that don’t seem to line up. One end of it drags along the floor. Seokjin doesn’t appear too pleased to see you. 

“What are you wearing?” you ask, amused.

“Taehyung made me a scarf.”

“It’s very big.”

Seokjin glares.

“Did you really come to ruin my life so early in the morning?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re immortal. I hardly doubt this little blip will destroy you. More like God would if you don’t pull it together.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He’s got you there. But as you hold his gaze something in the air shifts, and he reluctantly lets you in. This time you take his offer of a cup of tea. You take a tentative sip, and it warms your belly in such an unexpected way. The weight of the cup is heavy in your hand, and the warmth of it seeps into your palm. It’s rather nice. 

You sit at the same table he had fifty-something years ago. There’s a few more marks in the woodwork by now. 

“Shall we get it over with then?” he says. “Where do I need to sign?”

You stop his hastiness with a gentle touch to his arm. He stares at your hand.

 “Did you get everything in order first?” you ask.

Seokjin coughs. “Yes, of course.” 

His ears are strawberry red again. The colour really is pretty, you’re glad you chose it. You’re glad you see it in other things, even if they are the tips of this angel’s ears. 

“They’re dead?”

“Not yet,” he says, lips twisting bitterly around the words. “They’re living out the rest of their lives. You might get a chance to see them, if you stay awhile. They said they’d be popping by later.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Well, I suppose that’s something. You know, I am really sorry about that. I thought about it after my last visit, and I think I understand now why you’d want to keep your friends around for longer.” 

“Feeling lonely up there?” he asks, voice gentler than usual.

“No!” You snort with (only slightly put on) derision. “Of course not. Too busy for such a thing as loneliness.”

He chuckles. “Maybe I wasn’t busy enough then.”

You ignore what feels like a thimbleful of sadness dropping into your stomach.

Seokjin does most of the talking while you drink your tea. He talks about what he does down here - cooking mostly, but also a little pottery. He’s been training under a man called Yoongi. Says he made the cups you’re holding, and you inspect them. They’re quite ugly, thick and uneven- and you’re about to say as such, but Seokjin looks proud, so you smile and tell him he did very well, and that you like the colour of the clay. You wish you could bottle the way he beams.

All too soon the tea is finished, and Seokjin signs the document. It’s done. His eyes still shine, if a little less bright now. 

“What now?” he asks.

You suck in a breath. “Your miracles are in trust until your return to Heaven. Until then you can live as a human. More or less.”

His eyes snap up. “I’m still immortal, right?”

“Oh of course,” you say with a laugh. “You think they’d go through all this trouble just to risk you being eaten by a giraffe?”

“Do you know anything about Earth?” Seokjin says it like you’re an idiot. “At all?”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes. “I know plenty-”

“Name one thing,” he interrupts, crossing his arms and looking at you with an almost amused expression. 

You draw your shoulders back. You’ll give him three. “It weighs five point nine-seven septillion kilograms.”

Seokjin blinks three times fast. You must’ve caught him off guard with your knowledge. Good.

“It’s made up of thirty-two point one percent iron, fifteen point one percent silic-”

“Alright,” Seokjin says, lips twisting into a small smile. “I get it. You don’t need to prove yourself.”

You grin, ever so pleased with yourself, and Seokjin laughs.

“You’re cute.”

“What?”

“Cute,” he repeats. “It’s a compliment.”

“Oh,” you say, wondering why reciting facts from the Earth’s handbook would warrant a compliment on your character. “Okay…” You look down at your mug and see it’s empty and you’re struck with a surprising pang of disappointment. The tea was really rather good, it’s something of a pity as you realise you won’t be able to make it the same back in Heaven.

“Well, I’d better get going. Paperwork to do. Miracles to take.”

“Of course,” says Seokjin, and stands to see you off. “If you visit again will you let me know in advance?”

“Why?”

“I’ll make dinner.”

You smile without thinking. “I don’t eat, Seokjin.”

“You know,” he says, in a very matter of fact tone. “Despite the fact that every time we meet you’re taking away something of mine, I’m growing quite fond of our meetings.”

You blink. 

His eyes are so big and gentle and- “Let me know- okay?” he says with earnest.

“Okay,” you promise, already wondering when you could possibly get away long enough to watch Seokjin eat dinner.

“Would you like to take some flowers with you?” he asks suddenly. “I saw you smelling them.”

“Oh! Ye-” you start, and then you think better of it. So you plaster on a smile and say “No, that’s quite alright, I can whip some of my own up in no time at all.”

Seokjin nods. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but time is getting on and you’re not used to these odd goodbye rituals the humans (and this angel in particular) seem so fond of, so with a flash of a smile you’re back in Heaven. Seokjin and his lovely brown eyes remain on Earth. 

Your office looks so bland in comparison to Seokjin's home.

It takes a second to notice that the cup he gave you is still in your hand, remnants of the sweet tea drying on the bottom. You briefly consider going back down, just to hand it over and say goodbye properly, but in walks Turiel to squash any ideas you have about leaving your post again.

“Great, you’re finally back,” he says, dumping a stack of files on your desk. “We’re swamped.”

“What happened?” you exclaim. You’re barely able to see him over the pile. 

“Some bright spark in Organisms made a new virus. Let it loose in Greece without proper authorisation, killed half of them,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “The higher ups are fretting because one of the dead ones was supposed to be a prophet.”

Oh dear.

Turiel leaves without display. No time for pleasantries like offerings of tea and flowers up here. You sigh, dejected. 

Being around Seokjin makes you wistful for things you didn’t know you wanted. You set the mug on your desk, turning it to and fro so you get a view of the prettier side- and with the smallest of miracles, there grows delicate flowers, in purple and yellow.

[altraviolet]

Hello Violet!!!

So I've been wondering about The Echo Garden, when you started it did you have a plan in mind? I think you get these sorts of questions often but, did you ever intend for it to get this big? And one final thing, when you went into The Echo Garden did you edit it as you go or did you write the whole thing out and then edited it? I love your work by the way, keep it up!

Hi potato-sauce!

[googles "potato sauce" to see if that's a thing, finds Czech recipe. oh hell yeah, that looks really good]

:D

>did you have a plan in mind?

I had the very rough plan of "Soundwave needs to go from not feeling to feeling, and then on the side I need to develop Soundwave/Rodimus in a realistic way against the backdrop of the Lost Light." Sub plans included "make the other alt-dimensioners each have a problem that SW solves" and "make the LL bots have different reactions to SW" and "uhhhhh he needs a hobby. crystals?"

My method of writing is more "discovery" than "planned," or at least it was until the end of the fic. Until, say around ch 40ish, I had Vague Ideas for what needed to happen in each chapter, and so I'd write them [aka each ch needs to complete X goals to push the narrative forward], and then as I went, my brain somehow magically sewed almost everything up together. Once it got towards the end of the fic, I could 'see' where things needed to end up. But even then, things were quite fluid when it came to sitting down and typing up any given chapter.

>did you ever intend for it to get this big?

No. I had no intentions at all. I didn't even have a GUESS or a THOUGHT it would get this big. The pairing was SO weird, I thought maybe 2 people would read it. Maybe. One of them has been with me since the beginning, and the other is a friend. I was SO sure everyone would go "pff weird" and skip over it. I was really nervous posting it, actually.

Keep in mind that the pairing is fairly well-known now, and that also a lot of people extrapolated soundrod from Cyberverse. so it doesn't feel weird now. BUT IT WAS INCREDIBLY WEIRD when I posted Ch 1

>when you went into The Echo Garden did you edit it as you go or did you write the whole thing out and then edited it?

I wrote it out over the period of 4 years and posted chapters as they were finished. anyone who read along as it was being posted would never know when a chapter would drop xD I tried very hard not to let too much time elapse between chapters, but sometimes there were large gaps. and other times I'd post 3 chapters within a week. I got too excited to dole them out more slowly, haha. I was bursting to share :D chapters usually came out on Sunday nights or around USA holidays, because I needed some temporal distance from my job in order to get my brain working

I don't think I could've finished the fic if I had fully written it out and then posted it. the comments I got while it was an ongoing WIP helped boost me and made me feel so happy, and that what I was doing was important and worth my time, and worth something to other people. without comments, the Echo Garden probably never would have been finished. that's why I always tell people to comment! especially on ongoing WIPs that you love. it's so encouraging and helpful for authors to know that their hard work is being enjoyed!

anyway I wrote each chapter and then edited the HECK out of it and then posted it when I was done. I also wrote a lot of things out of order, so sometimes when I got to the next chapter, I could grab a chunk of writing from my 'already written scenes' doc and then write around it to sew it into the existing story

the only editing I did after the fic was completely done was going through and fixing grammar/related mistakes. there are a couple things I would change, structurally, if I were going to go through and really edit it, as one should do with a novel. technically, the version on AO3 right now is the first draft! the fic could be edited further, but I'm going to let it stand where it is =)

thanks for the ask! cheers :)

[supernova41st]

Vox x Daughter!Android! Reader

Chapter 2: Empathy

Ch.1 Ch.2

Warnings: Swearing

A/n: so this is kinda a continuation of a rlly old fic I made a few months ago. I edited it a bit to make it look more like my new style of writing so make sure to read that! Also idk anything about computers so most of this stuff is just stuff I pulled out my ass 😻

Robot vocab-☆♡~!!•?

Third POV:

“Step on here.” Vox says out loud, tapping your oval shaped eyes, glowing blue. Your light blinks a bit at him, while you lift your head in order to face him, still collecting data on everything around you. The floor, the walls, the wires, your feet, Vox. Everything felt so new yet so familiar, you knew everything as well as nothing at all.

Vox sighs out of annoyance, that the robot that he had been working on for years is being quite unresponsive. But of course, he can’t just throw you out of all things away for such a small flaw. To him, you were bigger than his other products, you were a spectacle.

Vox eventually just decides to grab you by the back of your neck, and places you on the charging system for you. Like a mother cat lifting her babies by the neck. You then hear a small click beneath you, as the area around you glows. While Vox stands right next to you, his hands clasped behind his back.

“AW.77//FOUND”

Your head snaps at the voice that comes as soon as the square glows. “Don’t be frightened my failure of a friend, this is just a test! You’ll be in and out in no time.” Vox says in his regular swingy tone. “Now we just gotta see if your basic stuff is there, Yknow just to see if I’m not gonna have to worry about you for the next few years. Again.” Oof, he sounds a bit irritated on that last part. I mean who wouldn’t be after spending hours upon hours on an ai that can’t even respond to you.

“4ARM//:FIREARM”

Your left arm is then lifted by some sort of force that took over your body, then revealing a firearm of some sort opening from underneath your forearm. “Oh shit!! I forgot I added that..” Vox laughs, tapping at the muzzle of the weapon. The socket begins to close as the voice comes in again.

“VOICEBOX//:220”

“☆”, high pitched beep comes from the speaker that is laid in your chest. Vox eyes widen a bit, realizing that he had forgotten to finish up your voice file. Now you can only speak in beeps. “✿$~?” You ask, (I think..) “Fuck, no wonder you couldn’t respond. Alright let’s get you off” Vox then recreates the same scene he did putting you on the square, now removing you.

“You know what? Why don’t you stay here while I go grab my dead friend Velvet to get you some clothes for your naked self!!” Vox asks, waiting for a response as if he was gonna receive one. All he gets is two glowing ovals staring at him, “groan okay I’ll take you with me. Not like you have much to do here anyways”

Vox drags you the towers main elevator, then getting to Velvettes floor where she was screaming at her designers as usual. “Velvette?” Vox calls out calmly as if she wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs. “Oh! Thank goodness you’re here Mr v.” She says sarcastically. “What do you need? And make it fast. I have a show to do in 2 hours and my models aren’t here yet.” Velvet exclaims.

“Well, I have a new model for you.” Vox nudges you a bit to take a step ahead to present you to Velvette. Velvette raises a brow, clearly unamused at vox’s ‘model’. “The fuck is this? Do I look like I make clothes for Claires?” Velvette complains while poking your fairly large metal head. Vox clicks his tongue, “okay well she isn’t supposed to be a model, she’s a project I’ve been working on and I just need her in some clothes.” He admits, holding his hands behind his back.

Velvette, still in her unamused look, sighs. “Yeah sure I’ll find her something.” Velvette then claps her hands twice before yelling, “MELISSA, THE STAGE, NOW!!” Her dear model steps onto the plush step up chair to try on outfits while Velvette snaps her fingers in order to show off the clothes she has in store for Voxs ‘project’. A short pink sundress poofs onto Velvettes model, Vox immediately cringing at the flashiness of the dress.

“How about this one? It was apart of my summer collection a few months ago” Velvette grins waiting for Vox’s response. “Hmm, let’s uhh look at more!” Velvette shrugs snapping her fingers again, showing a white thigh length dress, folded on the chest to be shoulderless, completed with a blue belt. “Oo this one’s cute innit? I bet your little friend would love it.”

Vox shrugs, he didn’t really care about the aesthetics, just as long as it covered his ‘projects’ body. “I’ll take it!” Vox says proudly, Velvette snaps her fingers, the outfit appearing right in her hands on a hanger. “Here ya go luv, tell your project I said you’re welcome” Velvette chirps. “Speaking of which, where did the cheeky little bugger go?”

Vox looks around a bit, before laying his eyes on you, who’s now covered in large unrolled sheets of fabrics and threat. “Hey! I had those organized!” Velvette yells. Vox, like a panicked parent, runs towards you to grab you by the wrist. “I’m so sorry Velvette! She’s still getting use to this place Yknow” Vox says with a large smile on his face. “Well then get er’ out of here! I don’t need her ‘getting use to’ anything around here” Vox makes a poker face at her, before dragging you to the elevator.

“Are you serious? You could’ve gotten damaged out there! I mean my work could’ve been a huge waste if one of those things fell directly on you!!” He yells. You completely ignoring him, begin to poke the random buttons that were placed in the elevator. Vox slaps his screen, “Jesus fuck what am I gonna do with you..”

You begin to look up at his screen, attempting to gather most of what he’s feeling.

“#$@*”

Vox looks down, to see you, now hugging him, your cheek lying against his stomach. Suddenly, you started to glow pink. Now for some reason, you can feel. Not feeling physically, but emotionally. Empathy was being printed in each wire in your body, and from what you knew, hugging was the best way you could show it.

Vox was a bit confused at your gesture, he didn’t really know how to feel since no one has ever showed him this level of affection. It felt right tho, like he got what he deserved. Even without words, he knew what you wanted to say. And he knew how to respond.

“Uh, I guess I forgive you..?”

[clairekudzu-secondbloom]

Alright, I've made a tentative first chapter for my first HDG fic!

Give me that constructive criticism, give me that praise and compliments, or give nothing at all and don't read, that's cool too!

Anyway, it's under the read more!

Domestication of Barbarians

Ch 1: Unexpected

This was supposed to be an easy trip! Just a quick dip into a nearby nebula, in front of the Affini Compact expansion; preliminary scans showed no signs of life in this sector, so after filing the requisite paperwork they were permitted a small ship to sightsee with. Four affini with 5 florets, that's more than enough affini to keep them safe.

But midway through the jump, the shuttle shuddered and suddenly dropped out of hyperspace in what felt like an explosion.

Eryth Tarax, Fourth Bloom, quickly took stock of the situation, checking the control terminal before muttering to herself, “Our hyperdrive has blown, but otherwise the hull is intact. No imminent danger to our florets or to us. Thank the Everbloom.” She sighed, relaxing her vine weave around her core.

“Apologies for the delay captain, I was running simulations to determine what happened. Would you like to hear the most likely scenario?” The ship AI, which handles most operations for the shuttle, asked Eryth.

“Yes, if you would.”

“The most likely scenario is that we were hit with a hyperspace charge, most likely a mine from some unknown sophont conflict. I am unable to determine any origin sophont, or when this battle occurred. It could have happened elsewhere and the mine drifted here, too, considering I'm not detecting any other mines in the vicinity.” The AI rattled off the results of its simulations, as requested.

Eryth sighed in relief again, then walked out of the helm to the rest of the ship. Outside the command room was an atrium, decorated into being a small park, with 7 rooms around it. There was the engine room towards the rear, the helm at the front, three large rooms on one side, and the remaining two rooms opposite those, along with the airlock door.

The captain knocked on the door of the room closest to the helm.

“Zoysia, are you and your florets okay in there?”

The door slid open, revealing another affini cradling two terrans in her vine-woven arms.

“Yes yes, we're all quite fine. Thank the stars they were already napping in my vines, though they were jolted awake. Are you and the ship well?” Zoysia Paoles, Second Bloom, wore a gentle but concerned look on her wood-covered face.

“Yes. The hyperdrive took damage though and will need to be repaired before we can get moving again. I’d hate to tear you away from your precious little cuties here for even a minute, but could you spare a vine to look it over, maybe repair it if you're able?”

“Of course. Julia, Zeff, you two behave. If you're good, there's extra Class-As for you both!” Zoysia nodded to Eryth before looking down at her florets, setting them on the floor of the room after turning around. The terrans nodded and replied, in unison, “Of course mistress!” They then carefully walked over to the bed at the back of the room, their magnetized shoes keeping them gently attached to the floor, but making it hard for them to move quickly on their own.

Eryth smiled as the florets moved away, before herself turning away and moving to the other rooms, her vines hooking into microloops on the floor rather than relying on magnets to keep her anchored, knocking and informing the other two affini of the ship's condition and apologizing for the delay in their trip.

She then returned to the helm, whereupon the ship AI started dumping new information. “I double-checked our position and rescanned the local planets. We're outside of comms range at the moment, but given the local expansion plans there should be a relay close enough in a terran month. With luck, Miss Zoysia can repair the hyperdrive before then and thus render my information irrelevant. We might be able to secure any needed resources from this system’s planets. However, one of these planets differs from preliminary scans by a large margin. It appears to harbor intelligent life.”

Eryth’s vines tightened at that mention. “Pre-sophont?”

“Undocumented sophont species, heavily utilizing iron, stone, fire, and acid.” The AI sent a photo to Eryth’s tablet, showing this species. A bipedal creature, with wings on their back, tall ears with horns curving around the base, a short snout on their face. Their body was mostly covered in fur, with patches of scales covering joints and vulnerable areas. It reminded Eryth of a bipedal version of a terran rabbit, mixed with what they called a dragon.

“Dirt. That's the only planet in this system with life, yes? That'll make it hard to get new flora or nutrients to regrow and repair with. We might have to try and sneak down there anyway. I don't think any of us are trained for first contact, nor to start a cotyledon. Roots and rot.” Eryth slapped the nearby desk with a vine, careful to not dent it.

“At least tell me they are peaceful and calm?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not,” the AI replied.

[rollercoasterwords]

i’m sure you have such a busy life doing great lovely things but this is my formal request as someone who has read literally all of your ao3 works and is your secret #1 stan

baby i need a long form jegulus fic from you so bad please im on my hands and knees

nothing fades like the light was so delicious but i needed MORE 😭

the really good jegulus fics are LACKING we need a hero and i nominate you

if you’re feeling bored crazy silly goofy this summer……. you know what to do.

hi! i know this message is intended to be complimentary and i’m glad u enjoy my writing but please don’t send me stuff like this lol. not once have i ever indicated that i take requests nor that i want to and it is actually quite odd to ask a stranger to write you a book for free!

like. i’m trying to say this as gently as possible but these kinds of messages are just. SO out of touch. it takes hours for me to write a single ch of a fic, hundreds of hours to write long-form novel length fics—it’s a labor of love, which is why i do it, but it’s still labor. and i’m not gonna work for anyone but myself for free! i am an adult who is in school and working two jobs on top of that to make ends meet and my main concern this summer will be making sure i can pay my rent, not writing fanfiction!

like. in an ideal world i’d be getting paid at least $20/hr for my labor. let’s estimate that it takes ~5 hours for me to write one ch. if u want like a 20-30 ch book length fic, that would run u about $2-3k. and i still might be undervaluing my own work there! does that help put into perspective the amount of work this is? and not just the amount of work i’m doing, but the amount of work ANY fanfic writer is doing, and sharing for free? please realize that it is actually insane that people are ALREADY writing & sharing free books with you.

also. not really sure what u mean when u say really good jegulus fics are lacking and honestly that is a mean thing to say! i know u mean it as a compliment to me but i do not want any compliments that put other writers down. there are lots of really talented and wonderful writers pouring their time and effort into longform jegulus fics; i’m sure you can find some that u like if u spend some time looking. and this is definitely not the place to look bc ‘nothing fades like the light’ is probably the only jegulus fic i will ever write simply bc i don’t like regulus v much! lol

anyway. want to reiterate that i’m trying to say this all gently bc im assuming that u are maybe someone young who does not write fic and/or does not have to worry abt paying rent etc and that’s why maybe u didn’t understand how this message would come across. but please take this as a learning opportunity to understand why this is a very weird thing to send someone and definitely do not send me messages like this again lol

[additiva]

Hi!!!!

For the ask game

“It’s not long before Max is manoeuvring him onto his knees, thinking about admiring the beautiful length of his spine, and pressing up against his back. Charles had made several incredibly indirect references to it last week; which usually meant he wanted to try it.”

I am curious about the “incredibly indirect references”, what are they usually like? And where does he usually draw inspirations from? Or just your director’s commentary?

Thank you.

Ooh good question. This is a hard one. My answer is.. too long but alas.

Possible spoilers (upto Ch 16), if anyone hasn't read the fic yet...

As we know, talking honestly about sex, or asking for it is basically unbearable to Charles. And with Max, he doesn't have the experience to take what he wants, and he's inhabiting a more submissive role. So he has to somehow communicate this to Max.

As we know, his preference is historically just to manipulate Max into offering things on his own, because that's psychologically much easier for Charles, than to be emotionally available and submit to being known.

But, as previously straight man, he's not experienced enough for that, at this point.

And he knows how to be flirty, or make Max jealous ;) But it's a blunt instrument.

So he's probably actually quite strange about it. And he'd probably start with things so subtle and vague that they'd make no sense to anyone outside of his own overthinking brain, then he'd gradually escalate. And then he'd probably accidentally give it away, anyway, as a result of their chronic, shared horniness.

I had something specific in mind when I wrote it, but I can't remember what that was, now.

But off the top of my head, it might go something like this, in recap form: (please forgive, these will be clumsy)

1.

Charles, staring intently at Max: yes, so then it rolled under the car, and I had to go on my hands and knees to try to reach it.

Max: ok.

Charles: ...

Max: is that the end of the story, or?

2.

Charles, sitting in Max's lap for no reason.

Max: :)

3.

In bed, during sex, Charles with an arm over his eyes

Max: Baby, no, I can't see your face when you do that :(

Charles: Maybe I don't want you to see my face.

Max: Oh. Okay?

Charles: ;)

Max: ???!

4.

Charles, leaning on his elbows at the kitchen bench.

Max, going to the sink, grabs his hips to shift him out of the way. As he passes behind him, his own hips brush Charles'.

Charles: *violent, involuntary full body shiver*

Max: OH.

Etc.

Hope that makes sense hehe

[kellyscowboy]

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ DON'T BE SORRY FOR LEAVING AND GROWING OLD || ch. 1

ᯇ summary ! ✦ Jack Kelly finally gets out of New York and makes something of himself. Though, he's never been good at goodbyes and David won't answer his letters. || read full thing on ao3 now WRITTEN FOR THE NEWSIES FIC EXCHANGE ᯇ tag list ! ✦ @bound-for-santa-fe @bunniebusiness @hotelbxllamuerte (taglist form is in my pinned post if you would like to be added!!) GIFT FOR @daveysjackie !! (sorry for the tag) ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing & angst 1230 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

next part

“Were you ever going to tell me, Jack?” David asked. His lip was in a deep pout, and his hand was placed disappointedly, loosely, on his hip.

Jack bit his nail nervously. “Uh-huh.” It was a lie and they both knew it. In fact, not a single person was meant to know. Jack was supposed to quietly slip away in the middle of the night and never have to face the sorrow of a goodbye. It had been a solid plan, until Racetrack had found the ticket underneath his pillow.

They had been arguing for a while when Racetrack punched him and left a nice shiner on his cheekbone. “You’re a coward,” He screamed. And he was right, Jack knew as much. He was a coward.

“I don’t owe you anything!” Jack yelled. I owe him everything. “What have you, what have any of the newsboys done for me? Huh?”

There was a festering bubble of guilt that steadily grew inside of Jack. The newsboys had done more for him than his own family had. They had taken him in. They had saved him from himself after he had been in the refuge. Quite frankly, he owed them his life.

In his mind, these were valid reasons for him to not say goodbye. They were a family. He knew that if he ever told them that he was leaving, that he would never make it to Santa Fe. Jack would be tied to New York forever. He couldn’t risk that; he couldn’t risk staying there any longer. It would destroy him.

“Whatever, Jack. Who needs you, anyway?” Racetrack had half the mind to rip up the ticket, to force the boy to stay. “Wouldn’t be the first time you left us in the dust.” He honestly believed he never wanted to see Jack’s face ever again. Conflicted with his feelings of betrayal and hatred, he spat at Jack’s shoes.

Jack was quiet for a couple of seconds. “You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“No. No, I won’t tell no-one. On the promise that you never show your ugly mug back here ever again.” Race dug a finger into the boy’s chest. “You’re gonna hurt everyone who ever had faith in you. And I hope you never feel anything but guilty for it.”

After that, everything was fine. No-one else knew, and he could still slip away without having to say goodbye.

Then, the day before he left, David let his curiosity get the best of him. In the middle of the line at the circulation gate. “Hey, Jack. I’ve been meaning to ask, where’d the bruise come from?”

Jack saw the finish line stretch farther away, felt the bubble of guilt in his stomach begin to expand. It had been a couple of days since he got it, and he was riding on the fact that everyone was too scared to ask. Leave it to David and his stupid words. “Oh, uh-”

“Yeah, Jackie. Why don’tcha share with the fellas, huh? Where’d you really get the shiner?” Racetrack interrupted. “Or should I tell ‘im the truth myself?”

David gave him a sideways look. “Jack? What’s he talking about?”

“I dunno. You know Racer, he’s always yappin’ on about something. Don’t mind him. He don’t know what he’s talkin’ bout.” Jack threw an arm around David’s shoulder and gave him a small grin.

Racetrack scoffed, then shoved the boy away from David. He replaced Jack’s arm with his own. “You want to know why Jack’s been acting so weird?” He gave a few pats to David’s pec over his shoulder before he pointed at Jack with the same hand. “Why he ain’t been around so much?”

“Um…” He looked at Jack and wished he could ignore the guilty look the boy wore. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well! Our Jackie boy—he’s got himself a one-way ticket to Santa Fe, New Mexico.” Racetrack stated, then gave David a sarcastic smile. “Ain’t that nice? He’s catchin’ the 8 o’clock train tonight.”

Les shook his head. “Jack wouldn’t. He wouldn’t! ‘Specially not without saying goodbye! Right, Jack?” Jack looked like a dog with its tail between its legs as he avoided Les’ gaze. “Jack?”

That’s where he found himself. His nails bitten and David demanding the truth.

“Don’t lie to me, Jack.” David said. “Please. Don’t lie.”

Jack frowned. “I just-”

“Just what, Jack? Just didn’t think we deserved the decency of a goodbye?” David yelled. “You know, every single one of us has had your back since the day we met you. I blindly helped you lead a fucking strike. And even after you abandoned us—for the first time, I guess—we all came together and helped you. We at least deserve a goodbye.”

Jack’s hands swung helplessly at his side. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Deep down, he knew David was right. But he couldn’t admit that. Not there, not now. So, he deflected. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone, Racer.”

“Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize the breaking of trust had to be one sided in this ‘friendship.’ You’re full of it,” Racetrack said.

“Don’t get mad at Racetrack because you’re a shitty friend.”

“I’m the shitty friend? I finally get a chance to get out, to be in the place I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. And all you care about is the fact that I was too busy to think about saying goodbye? You should be happy for me, David! All of you should be!”

Racetrack scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you just forgot to tell us, Jack. We ain’t stupid.”

“Why would I be happy for you? You’re leaving behind everything that was ever good to you.” David said. “You’re going to ruin yourself, Jack Kelly.”

“Yeah, well.” Jack looked David up and down before staring at him. “I’m also leaving behind everything that was ever bad to me."

"Really? When have we ever been bad to you?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "Didn't ya always say I could be something more? That my art could get me somewhere? What happened to that, Dave?"

"You can be something more here, Jack-"

"No. I can't! You don't get it!" Jack's face was red as he yelled.

"No! I don't! I don't get why you have to go halfway across the country just to paint!" David yelled back. 

"I ain't got no inspiration out here, Dave!"

David frowned. "Really, Jack?"

"You can't find no inspiration in us, Cowboy? Really? After everything we've done together?" Racetrack was livid. "We took down the biggest paper company there is, and you can't find any fucking inspiration in us?"

"No. I can't."

"You're unbelievable." David scoffed. "I just can't understand you!"

"Whatever, Dave. Who needs the lot of ya?"

Jack angrily stomped his way to Wiesel and bought his paper. He let the Delancey brothers’ snide remarks consume him. The bubble in his stomach grew bigger.

Jack made one fatal mistake; he turned around for one last glance at the boys. Racetrack and David were seething, they had their fists tightly clenched together and were biting down on the inside of their cheeks.

And Les looked up at him with big eyes, wide with betrayal and disbelief. His usual wonder-struck gaze filled with sorrow. The bubble in his stomach popped, and he walked away into his new life without another word.

[theangiediary]

omg Angie that was exactly what i meant and i loved it! I also adore Lebanon's favourite "are they?aren't they?" couple and imagining samdean co-parenting is such a delight. "If the baby looked like Sam, Dean would have like 12 disorders" got a laugh but it's so true i don't know how he'd handle it. It's similarly what makes me also like the idea of Dean having to deal with a deaged Sam just to see how gobsmacked he'd be. (Also those mommy recs? For a friend? 👀)

1. Oh good I’m glad it resonated! Truly, Dean would be against those baby chest carriers until the little guy was born, and then he’d not only constantly be wearing him strapped in, he’d also have one arm wrapped around at all times. Also that baby would not have a nursery, Dean would put the crib in their bedroom so he could be as close as possible, sit on the rocking chair at night just staring (Sam gets it, at least enough not to press the issue).

2. About A Boy with deaged Sammy: they’d have to end the show right there! Dean would run off into the night with itty Sammy, let some other hunter deal with the missing people. (/hj, I don’t actually remember what their relationship was like prior to that ep, all I know is it was VERY funny to me that they had a solution to the mark but Sam was like 🥺 “I am not baby?? no more Big Bro? Unacceptable.”  

3. Fic Recs

Haha, well! So many flavors... I’m throwing a huge mixed bag here, read what sounds interesting, skip what doesn’t.

Vice and Wish by thatsakitkat (incomplete, ABO A!Sam/O!Dean, 42k)

One of my all time favorites. It’s a little OOC, but Sam’s uh, canonical entitlement toward Dean/Dean’s body and resources is so so sexy. Cockblocking him, spending his money, joining him in Dean’s subconscious against Dean’s protests. Spn was allergic to having a consistent stance on souls, but if you largely view soulless!Sam as Sam without empathy, then.. Yeah. I think the Sam in this fic/universe is realistically ruthless in getting what he wants (a baby in Dean).

(Taste Every Fruit by the same author doesn’t have pregnancy, but is a lactation fic and uhh. Quite good.)

Nesting orphan_account (ABO A!John/O!Dean, 12k)

It’s been a minute since I read this, but I remember it being sweet, in a conservative fantasy way. Stanford era. Forced retirement. Small town. Also slightly OOC but like above, comes with the universe.

homebody by hellhoundsprey (ABO A!Jared/O!Jensen (background Jared/Ruth and Jensen/Tahmoh, 18k)

Listen, if you’re hesitant about rpf, this author writes it very much “vaguely inspired by the PR personsona of X”. People have been fantasizing about celebrities forever, heck, the SPN cast joke about rpf at cons. 

Anyway. Great fic. Darling sex kitten/tease and “Trying to be good” dynamic.

Share the Spoils Ch 2 by vintagedean (Fem!Dean/Sam, 2k)

Recently published, Deanna finding out if she’s pregnant and what she and Sam can do if that’s the case. Pushy teen Sam, distracted Deanna. "John's looming shadow" deserves its own character tag.

the need to choose by deadlybride (Hal!Dean/Sam, 3k)

Canon (post s7) divergence. The author has this halman universe which is similar to ABO but not quite; Dean’s something like an omega but not ✨feminine 👧🌷. Still, one of the things that the author does is realistic sex descriptions/pretty explicit naming of body parts: Dean has a clit, cervix, etc. Explores what having a baby would mean for them, in the context of SPN’s vessel plotlines. Sad, longing, open ended.

They Think I'm Possessed by deandatsgay (Dean/John, Dean/Sam 27k)

No pregnancy; Dean raised as Sam’s mom (thus inclusion in this list). Dark, dirty bad wrong porn. I love it.

[maramiri]

OA C1 author's notes

welcome to the new home for these stinky notes. man i can tell i was just so excited to share things with ppl smh.

anyway on with the show

Officially AU from 184, and of course, some events have been shuffled around so I could shoehorn them in (detailed notes at the bottom).

Mostly Tanjirō-centric with some Muzan sprinkled in every so often. Occasional Demon Slayer(s) POV; I’mma be real with you, they can probably be skipped if you don’t give a shit about the DS goons.

First arc’s song: Valky — Any Time

Astral projection: I am a very literal/gullible reader and I accept everything I read at face value, so there might be other people like me, heh. When Muzan talks about tethers, paths, lines, astral projection, etc, he is not literally doing any of that. It’s just visuals to help him (and readers) logic his way around as he uses his telepathy to bad-touch Tanjirō’s brain.

Notes regarding going AU from CH. 184:

Deaths: Nearly everyone should have survived, albeit with varying amounts of serious and non-serious injuries. I just can’t handle the death(s) of major characters ;w; Shinobu does NOT live (I wish I could have her live, ‘cos I hecking love her, but her death was a little too hard to come back from haha. I could think of a few scenarios where she manages to scrape by, but she ultimately doesn’t add anything to the plot so I have chosen to let her death have meaning). Oh, yeah, and Tamayo is officially dead but I mean… she died this chapter.

Sequence of events (in canon): I believe Yushirō’s cat delivering the remaining Tamayo drugs, her explanation of them, and Muzan searching through her cells to find the answer, all happen around CH. 191-ish. Since I couldn’t quite clearly tell if Muzan had drugs 1-3 inside of him already and needed 4, or if he only had 1-2 inside of him and needed 3-4 from the demon cat, I decided to have him be afflicted by all four when he was first initially poisoned, and then he learns everything about them from searching Tamayo’s cells while in the forest. While some side effects do remain from a plot standpoint, I don’t think the nuances of this particular scenario will affect my plot overall. Muzan will still definitely suffer side effects as a result of these poisons, but not to their full extent. [FUTURE HILDA HERE: pretty sure I misremembered and the cat actually injected healy-boopies into the good kids, but it still doesn't matter XD]

[Humanification] Well, he obviously doesn’t become human, and he canonically neutralizes it on his own so that’s out. Added bonus: he now knows how to reverse-reverse engineer what Tamayo did, meaning he could probably humanify anyone he wants? Because that’s something Muzan would do?

[Rapid Ageing] Yep, Muzan is now a 10,000 year old vampire loli daddy. The explanation takes place later after CH184, so therefore he wouldn’t have been 10,000 until that point, but that nuance is too much for my poor brain to figure out. Sure, I could use cues from the time announcements to figure out his proper age but…

[Cannot split apart] Well, he better not get caught like that ever again in the future kek

[Cell destruction at weak points inflicted by Yoriichi] This should still affect Muzan as well, but there isn’t really anyone available with the knowledge to take advantage of this weakness. Yushirō would know and would have told the other Slayers, but Tanjirō wouldn’t know, as this knowledge becomes known in like CH194-ish. Since Muzan knows about the drugs’ effects and/or is more careful, he will likely synthesize a ‘cure’ for the drugs in due time. As of now, his body is simply regenerating the damage. So I suppose he would treat them as permanent handicaps to his ‘energy reservoirs.’ In essence, his battle power has decreased (as he has stated in the manga). For the purpose of the fic, I would say his body has ‘naturally’ fought off the second stage of the drug and is attempting to autonomously decompose the third and then fourth stage. Muzan even considered dedicating his mental capacities to dealing with it, but obviously didn’t because he judged it to not be worth his effort and is fully confident his superior god-like body will take care of it—and if it doesn’t, I mean, he has all the time in the world (again) to deal with it later. Plus, like, he needs a lab and he’s currently shacking up with Tanjirō in a hole he dug up.

THE FOREST AND CAVE: I had to flip back and forth through so many chapters to make sure I wasn’t having a fever dream. (In the manga). There is a scene where Nezuko runs through a field of rice paddies towards the city, and in the distance are some spare forests and mountains. So… [roughly applies artistic license juice into your eyes] for my nefarious purposes, it is now a dense forest with a lot of random caves.

[definitely-mothman]

The Reflection of a Prince Ch 3

I’m really bad at making summaries, but in a nutshell, this is an Overblot! Jade Leech fic, with the Original Characters belonging to Royal Sword Academy, specifically for a fandom based on the Little Mermaid. • A gala approaches, on not one land, but two, and split in half, what other choice does a Prince have to do? But beware in the past, there is an eye that still watches. Who remembers, who plots and hides teeth in the darkness.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Ch 3 in Read More

Azul was flipping through finance files, about 7 in the morning according to his watch. It was the best time in the week to put together the documents for each days’ sales and costs, along with calculating the salary for employees for the biweekly basis. It was unusually quiet, although it didn’t bother him at the moment. It was still somewhat early, and the silence made it easier to focus.

It was only logical such silence should be rudely interrupted by annoying text vibrations on the wood desk.

“Hey do you like. Have the attendance sheets for the Board Game Club on hand rn.”

Right side top drawer, folder at the very front. Divider is by year…there it was.

“Yes I have them in the Lounge. Is Crowley asking for them already?”

“Kinda I mean. Yeah. He didn’t do this shit last year, says it’s bc of the festival thingy. BS tbh.”

“Do you want me to run them over in the next few minutes?”

“It doesn’t have to be like right now now, but around 7:30-7:45ish would be coolio, plus I’ll be actually awake at that point lol.”

Set the papers aside, set phone timer for 7:30. He’d likely just ask Jade or one of the third years to carry those over. The logistics of having the main keys for the lounge and having to cross campus not long before opening the back entryways for early shifts just seemed too annoying.

“Ok, someone will come by 7:40 at the latest.”

“Man I thought you’d do it ;-; you always send your Vice to do it and ngl he scares the shit outta me dude”

“That doesn’t sound like my issue, Idia.”

“I mean I’ll gladly accept paperwork from anyone in your dorm who isn’t in the top 3 tiers of the ‘Would Murder Me’ list. Like seriously there’s gotta be someone dude.”

“Any of them would likely lose the papers or be late. It’s not my issue he has an intimidating air carrying out benign errands.”

It was about 7:15.

“Bro tf you mean ‘intimidating air’ that implies it’s like. Accidental, and not him creating the comforting aura of a slasher villain. Idk how you survive interacting with him for most of the day. If I got locked in a room with either Leech for like 30 minutes I’d probably kms to get out faster.”

“I’m sure he’d find that quite humorous to hear. Anyways, it's not my problem, and I have things to do so I’m going to go silent for a while.”

“Alr whatever you’re like 100% serial killer victim number one tho.”

He put down the phone on the desk, mentally rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a qualm like this about Jade, especially not from Idia. It was strange to keep hearing, probably because he just couldn’t see what it was everyone was so…afraid of. In a competitive setting, it was logical for even him to be wary of Jade as a long-game player and as someone very good at concealing his hand. But in terms of just normal school life, it just didn’t make sense. At the worst, Jade liked to poke psychologically in the same way Floyd did physically. Instead of chasing and manhandling, it was done with subtle body language and straight faced teasing. Once you wrapped your mind around how the game worked, it was actually quite fun to play in return, although for a completely anti-social loner like Idia, it didn’t seem like much fun.

He may have come across as strange or snakelike, but Azul had a level of trust in him that provided a sense of ease. At the very least, if Jade had wanted him dead, it would have happened already. He made him tea or coffee every morning, and Azul couldn’t think of the last time he’d even had a second thought at drinking what was placed on his desk.

Speaking of which. He hadn’t drank anything all morning, and the lack of hydration was beginning to make his early morning energy wear off. Usually they were both up around the same time.

He left the VIP lounge, heading back towards the shared communal space, including the small kitchen the dormitory shared. The tea bags he used were typically in one of the top shelves of the cabinet farthest from the shared fridge. He put some water in a pan and turned on the stove, sitting the bag’s string over the side. There was a kettle in the shared area, but it was nowhere to be seen, so he’d have to make do.

The tea that he had made wasn’t perfect, but it was fine enough. Octanivelle students set for the early shifts had started to trickle in, and Floyd stumbled in behind them. A bit earlier than he normally woke up, but well within his range.

“Hey Floyd. It’s odd having you be the first one up.”

Floyd slid over, propping against the island. He still looked a bit tired.

“Huh? Jade left our room like. A few hours ago. At least, I think so. Idk, I was half-asleep.”

“A few hours ago? I haven’t run into him all morning. I was going to ask him to run some papers over to Ignihyde.”

“I could run them over lol-“

“It’s fine, you can handle opening, I’ll just run them myself. Was he running off to do the headcounts he mentioned yesterday?”

“Idk, probably? He sometimes dips out in the middle of the night to do something-or-another, I figure it’s just that.”

“…I wasn’t aware he did that. I doubt anyone at RSA is awake enough for him to get any reasonable survey numbers at this hour.”

“Eh, who knows. I’m not worrying about it personally. Probably went off early to maybe hike over there instead of taking the bus. I could see him doing something like that.”

“Oh, ok. If you're not worried-“

“By the way, when are you supposed to be taking the papers over?”

“Um,” Azul checked his watch again. It was 7:39 already, and the walk across campus would probably take some 7 minutes. Shit.

“I should probably go now; I’m already behind schedule.”

“Alrighty then, have fun. I need the key ring though to open.”

“Right, right.” He took the Lounge key ring off of his belt loop, and took the trenchcoat off his shoulders and dug through the pockets for the VIP lounge key. There. When he took his hand out though, he had two keys.

He couldn’t remember which key this was, and with how often he absentmindedly put them in various pockets, it was any guess when he’d put it there. He handed off the known key to Floyd, and put the second one back.

With that, he returned to the office space, collecting the papers, and then headed towards the mirror for the main campus.

For Azul’s taste, it was an eerily lonely morning.

• • •

“I’m good to meet up whenever you are.”

It was almost 5 in the afternoon, and students were flowing to and from Coralliadom, mostly to leave campus to get dinner or head towards the cafeteria. Rielle hovered over the message, and panned his gaze over to his Housewardens’ staff. He went over and took it up, gripping 3 fingers around the magestone and prying it out. He put the stone in his right interior pocket.

“Aight. I’ll head out that way. Should I turn my GPS on to make it easier or smthn?”

“Sure.”

He flicked it on, and began to make his way out of the dormitory. He left the staff in his room to not raise any sort of suspicion, but held onto his pen. He managed to slip Claude’s visage in this escape attempt, sliding through the mirror and booking it across campus towards the gate. It was actually quite invigorating, sneaking off like this. See, I told you I could take care of myself! The gate was open, and Rielle slipped in with the crowd of leaving students, removing the outer RSA jacket and bundling it under his arm. Just before the bus stop, he broke off, awkwardly trotting down the incline and breaking off into the tree cover surrounding the campus.

He had to walk for a while before eventually running into the Octanivelle kid, about 3 minutes. Curly brunette hair almost covered their eyes completely, and their poise seemed too calm for how they talked over text.

Whatever, people were usually more casual over text anyways, right? Not like he had another option at this point anyways.

“Heyo-! I made it, sorry if I was a bit late.”

“It’s fine, I made sure to set time aside so I’d be good if you were. Do you have the stuff I asked for?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it right here.”

Rielle took a small jewelry box out of his pocket, one that you’d normally keep earrings in. He handed it over to the student, who opened it, eyes glazing over the inside.

“Spit vial thing, hair is in a vial, the clippings are just in the box bc I figured that was fine, and the empty vial is the…song? Idk if you just wanted me to sing into a vial, so that’s what I did, sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Oh that’s fine.” He closed the box lid, and put it in the pocket of his dorm uniform, which went almost below his knees.

“Are you guys’ uniforms that long? Based on the photos, I always thought they hit like, mid-thigh at the longest.”

“Oh, this isn’t my uniform.” The kid took out a small glass dish, and sat it over a bundle of tinder he’d piled on the ground. “I spilled some shit on mine earlier this week, so I had to borrow my roommates. He’s like, a good foot taller than me, haha.”

His voice seemed a little…stiff, despite how casual his words were. The student looked up towards Rielle, expression a bit nervous.

“Uh, did you bring a water bottle or something by chance? I would’ve brought one myself for the potion but I didn’t think about it. I mean, I can just use a water spell I guess, but I haven’t eaten a lot today and my magic’s probably a little shaky because of it.”

“Oh, no worries, I’ll do it. Did you skip lunch or something?” Rielle clicked his magestone into his pen, and with a small flick formed about two cups’ worth of water inside the dish.

“Thanks, and no, I didn’t bring much money when I made my way over here so I couldn’t grab anything substantial in Craneport.”

“Oh. Well, you’ll need my ID to get into the dorm anyways, so don’t worry about using it to get meal swipes. Claude will hound you-me if he sees you being the slightest bit winded. Wait-“

Rielle took out his phone, and began texting rapidly. The students’ phone pinged several times back to back.

“Ok I sent you the itinerary for the day of, so that you’ll be ready for that, and also the sheet music for the musical performance on Friday.”

“Musical…performance?”

“Yeah, I am/was doing a pretty singing number for the gala thingy- but you’re taking on my singing voice anyways so you’ll be good. There’s 5 days anyway to get the hang of it, and you won’t be on stage alone!”

“O-oh. Ok.”

The student began to dump the contents into the water, and lit a small fire on the tinder beneath the dish with his pen.

“I could’ve done that, yknow.”

“Oh, sorry. Just didn’t think about it.”

“Lol, you don’t have to say sorry. Just don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

The kid took a small twig nearby to stir the mixture, using his other hand to control the flame, it spinning to a light blue color. He was murmuring something under his breath, but Rielle couldn’t make out whatever incantation he was saying. Maybe saying it really quietly was a part of it?

In a moment, the small whirlpool in the mixture tinted to a bright red, and spread out within the dish. A small smile briefly appeared on the kid’s face, and he put the twig to the side, taking a small necklace out of his pocket.

“Oh, that’s the jewelry item?”

“Yeah. I’m using this one specifically because I’ve been able to get it to work with other magic properties like this already. No worries for me about it not working.”

“It’s so…cute. Is it an actual nautilus shell? It looks a bit more worn and dirty than the ones you see in shops. And it’s so tiny!”

“Yeah, it’s an actual shell, a friend of mine picked it out for me, we were pretty little at the time. So that’s why it’s kinda small.”

“So I’m guessing the string on it is more recent so it fits your neck? Lol.”

“Yeah, I’ve changed the string a million times at this point, hah.”

Again. That slightly strained voice, enough to notice but not noticeable enough for Rielle to want to bring attention to it.

The Octanivelle student took the twig he’d sat down, and stuck it firmly in the ground. Taking the necklace’s string and catching it on the twig, he dipped the shell down into the potion, where it began to glow a pale white within the liquid.

“Ah, yeah. The contract scroll. I almost forgot about it.”

He took a golden paper out of his pocket, along with a slightly decorative pen. It was folded several times into a little square, and once unfolded the top portion was too crinkled to properly read. But most of it was legible, and listed everything they’d spoken about over text, word for word. Rielle panned over the language, checking for any small print. He may have had no other choice, but he’d barter if he needed to.

“The only small text on there is about you being liable if the Unique Magic offered in the contract expires before you return to trade places with me again.”

“And that time would be…”

“Friday, about 11pm. An hour and a half after the gala hosted in your dorm will have ended. I just don’t want to be stuck up there. Do you want the pen? I thought you’d take it already-“

“How did you do this? This is a Unique Magic in and of itself, dude! Did you actually get your Housewarden to write one up for you? Like an IOU or something?”

“…can’t say. Secrets of the trade, lol. I don’t wanna lose my chances of getting deals like this in the future, you know?”

The student smiled, but the emotion didn’t quite reach the shine in his eyes. As if they carried two different people. I suppose that was Octanivelle for you. Rielle took up the pen, and carefully signed his name, drawing a smile heart above the i.

He absentmindedly handed the paper and pen back over, and dropped his RSA jacket onto the ground. The guy would probably need it if he wanted to slip back onto campus.

“There you go. I should probably text my parents about now and head off towards the hall of mirrors. Pretty much no one’s walking around campus right now, although you might wanna wait a few minutes before going into campus.”

“Alright, I have to wait for this to finish up anyways. Hope you have fun at the family gathering.”

“Yeah, I will! Thanks for doing me a solid, man.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

Rielle finally got up from a squat on the ground, turning and heading back towards the campus.

He couldn’t have left soon enough. The illusory potion put together that morning was only meant to last about an hour. Even now, teal was beginning to push through the brunette hair, which was now falling to the ground at an alarming rate. He hadn’t even bothered to notice the contacts that already matched his eye color, or how squatting down disguised his clothing slowly fitting more snugly. The potion let off a sweet-smelling steam. It was done.

Taking the string off from around the twig, the necklace was pulled from the solution, and now it had a beautiful yellow gleam. He took off the Mostro Lounge jacket, covering a simple white dress shirt like those worn in RSA. The jacket and hat was placed into a pile along with the glass dish, and with a gentle wave of his pen, the pile burst into a large flame.

The necklace’s string fit perfectly to his head, and the nautilus shell was tucked beneath the shirt collar. He imagined how it looked outside of himself. Thin, siren eyes becoming like that of a doe, merging in and out as if both were mirages. A pale glow flowing down the edge of his hair, it growing vibrant red, and growing longer as the glow went down, beyond his hair’s end. The shell felt as though it could replace his own heart with how warm it felt against his chest.

Finally, he opened his mouth, feeling up and down the foreign vocal chords. The sweet, silky sound that left his mouth. That voice which was far too beautiful to belong to him. He stood and straightened his back, and lightly lifted his eyebrows along with the corners of his mouth, trying to make it look natural. Speak with your throat, keep your balance on the left side instead of in the middle. Pretend as though your head is filled with helium.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m back late, I got kinda sidetracked, went on a stroll and lost track of time. But…you forgive me, right?”

[cerebrobullet]

Sharpe's Fortress Daily Book Report:

ch 1- ch 5 ish

im really gay but the mental image of sean bean as sharpe clutching a terrified, feisty child to his chest after forcefully saving his life has me by the throat

sharpe seeing a small child is upset and just goes "guess im a dad now" and i love him for that

it's quite fun knowing where sharpe's story goes, because him mentally lamenting being given to the 95th rifles but knowing how well it'll finally work out for him gives me quite a lot of glee. i'm just gently squeezing his cheeks and telling him to calm down because it'll all be ok in the end.

god listening to these at work can be so challenging sometimes. sometimes i just sit and stare at my laptop with the most o_o face for five minutes, or have to keep from laughing out loud. the bit in triumph about the aide losing his head and therefore losing the bullet hole bet fucking killed me.

i love this narrator so much tho, i'm thinking of buying the first two books as read by this guy. would def love to hear sharpe's tiger but with the sean bean-esque voice, it's very pleasing to hear.

the further i get the more i can tell that any fic i write is going to feature a kind of bastardized combination of book and tv sharpe, which seems to be the standard anyway heh. all this pre-rifles information is just way too good to ignore. like, no offense to tv sharpe, but dragging your general to safety then turning into a feral, bloody monster to fend of seven or whatever soldiers by sabre only to defend him is way more terrifying to everyone else than the "shot three dragoons" business. wellesley seeing all of it and going "jesus christ this kid is unhinged" because sharpe swore so much while doing it is also Hilarious.

anyway my wallet about to be decimated by the speed at which i'm listening to these ;u; gonna have to buy the next one next week probably...

[hot-soop]

don't let me tempt you / ch.2

pairing: angel!seokjin x angel!f.reader ⇢ au: angels & demons ⇢ genre: forbidden romance, friends 2 lovers, comedy(?), fluff, eventual smut (not in this chapter), lite angst ⇢ summary: Seokjin is temporarily banished from Heaven and you're not all that good at paperwork. ⇢ chapter wc: 4k ⇢ rating: fic rating is explicit/18+ for eventual smut; chapter rating is 16 & up bc they're the equivalent of ken dolls rn, but minors please DNI anyway. This isn't for you. ⇢ chapter warnings: LOTS of religious imagery but please remember that this isn't meant to be accurate, it's crack Good Omens style nonsense. Author is an atheist. Swearing. Drinking. Implications of loss of faith. If there's any tags you think I'm missing, please let me know - I'd hate to be the cause of any upset or discomfort ⇢ a/n: thank uuuuuu @ugh-yoongi for reading this over, i adore you

chapter 1 here

chapter 2

736 BC

August 12th. 6:13pm. Sunshine.

It’s been ninety-one years and twenty-six visits to Earth since your first cup of tea. Since then Seokjin has shown you could enjoy so many more earthly pleasures than you thought possible. He makes an effort to show you something new every time you visit, and humans, as it turns out, are so much more creative than angels give them credit for. You’re really starting to enjoy it here. Every time, you wish you could stay longer. And so you learned you could convince Turiel to add routine patrols on all your banishments - by all accounts you’re only ever visiting Earth on ‘Official Business’. 

(‘Managed to convince’ isn’t really the right turn of phrase, more like you briefly floated the idea and Turiel near bit your hand off to add more to your workload.)

Of course the visits mean more reports in theory, but truth be told there aren’t that many banishments to keep on top of, and you spend far less time with the other banished angels than anyone else need know. That isn’t the case for Seokjin’s visits. No, you could spend an entire day in his company and feel like it’s been no time at all. For those reports alone, you need to twist the truth. 

Your stomach growls and Seokjin tuts. 

“If you didn’t wait thirteen years between visits,” he grumbles. “Your stomach wouldn’t be so loud.”

You open your mouth to say that the only reason you have any interest in Earth is because of Seokjin and his friends (though maybe by now they count as yours too, it’s something you’ll have to ask Taehyung) but the sour look on his face gives you pause.

(Ah yes. Taehyung. Your readers will probably be wondering why he’s still alive. Well, they all are. As it turns out the change from human to vampire was irreversible, and all Seokjin had been able to do was make it so they’re not quite as immortal as angels and demons are. In short - one could kill the three of them with a stake to the heart, if they should wish. When you found out Seokjin had omitted the truth (his words) about their lack of demise, that had been the biggest (and only) argument you’ve had in the centuries you’ve known him. Jimin had cried. It was very embarrassing.

Of course, you’d moved past it, because there was little to be done to change anything, and you actually rather like the company of the vampire trio. Yoongi is another anomaly, he should be dead too, and he kind of- he sort of is. Seokjin calls him a ghoul. But having met him, you can’t say he’s as evil as the handbooks make ghouls out to be. A grouch, definitely, but you can see why Seokjin likes to keep him around. 

Anyway, the point of this opening was not Seokjin’s lie of omission. The point is Seokjin’s current disposition.)

“Why are you in such a mood?”

“I’m not in a mood,” Seokjin shoots back.

“You are,” you counter. 

“Am not.” 

“Are too.”

Seokjin flicks you on the forehead. 

“Ow!”

“Please stop,” snaps Namjoon from the corner of the room. “Some of us are trying to study.”

You crane your neck to spy on the book he’s reading. Heraclitian Philosophy. 

Seokjin notices you looking. “Namjoon fancies himself as one of the new age philosophers,” he whispers. “He won’t listen but I keep telling him they’re a bunch of miserable fu-”

“I can hear you,” says Namjoon, pointedly.

You and Seokjin share a private smile.

“We missed you,” he murmurs.

“Missed you too,” you say, cheerfully. 

You dip a spoon into the pot Seokjin is standing over, and he chastises you for tasting too early (it’s not ready, so he says) but it’s so good that you can’t help yourself. 

“Mmm,” you hum, appreciative. “My favourite.”

He’s strawberry red again. 

“Where do strawberries grow?” you ask.

Seokjin laughs. “You always ask such weird questions.”

You bonk him on the head with your spoon. 

“Answer please.”

“Dunno,” says Seokjin with a shrug. “I haven’t seen any here.”

“In Europe!” Namjoon calls over.

“Thank you!” you shout back.

“Why do you ask?” says Seokjin.

“I want to try one.”

He tilts his head, a curious puppy if you ever saw one. 

“I invented them,” you answer his unasked question.

“You?”

You frown. “Yes, me.”

“You made food?”

“I made lots of things.”

“But you didn’t try anything?”

“Well why would I? I made lovely things in pretty colours just like they asked and sent them off to Agriculture.”

Seokjin smiles sardonically, saying, “such a good little angel, aren’t you?”

You beam even though it’s a non-compliment, and Seokjin rolls his eyes, but this time the look in his eye is one of affection.

“What else did you invent?” Seokjin asks, and off you go, listing all the things in your roster until you lose your breath. 

After dinner, Namjoon goes out to meet the others for a dinner of their own, leaving you and Seokjin sitting in front of an open window, sipping tea and catching up on the happenings over the last decade. 

Seokjin seems down. He leaves his tea to go cold and picks at loose threads on his tunic.

After a while, you ask, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” 

Your friend’s face falls into a dejected pout. “Time’s almost up,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Thirty years left and I’ve hardly been anywhere. Hardly seen a thing.”

Seokjin always claims he’s not sentimental, but you look at the home he’s built for himself, the friends he keeps, the trinkets that adorn the room, some four-hundred years old, and you deduce that there is little truth to that statement. What he isn’t is someone who tends to feel sorry for himself. 

It’s unsettling, seeing him like this. 

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him. “Once you’re back home you’ll have your miracles, and you can have all of this and more in Heaven.”

Seokjin rolls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I’ll be there too,” you tack on.

His responding smile is a little pitiful, but a smile is a smile, and if that’s all he’s got, you’ll take it.

729 BC

January 28th. 6:56pm. Snowing.

Taehyung says he’s invented a game. It’s called truth or dare, and the objective is to tell the truth when you’re asked a question, or do something at the other player's request. Despite asking on several occasions, there seems to be no clear rules on how to win.

“This isn’t a criticism of your creativity, Taehyung,” you say gently. “But it seems as if there’s no real point in playing if your point scoring system is flawed.”

Taehyung stares at you. Jimin hides a laugh behind his hand.

“How do we know when to end the game if there’s no objective winner?” you ask.

They ignore you, and Namjoon suggests it would be better to write down the dares and questions and draw them from different jars. For yours, you write down things like eat exactly 2/7ths of an apple and what time is it?

Jimin pours drinks, because apparently there’s also ‘forfeits’ in the form of ‘taking a shot’ if you can’t answer truthfully or complete a dare, but you can’t imagine why either thing would be such difficult tasks to complete. 

“Why would I lie, though?” you ask again. “It’s my job to be divine.”

“You’ve lied for me on more than a hundred occasions,” Seokjin reminds you.

 “Nonsense,” you say, haughtily. “That was for the greater good.”

Jimin and Taehyung share a funny look.

Namjoon coughs. “Shall we just play?”

You grumble something about rules being made to be followed that the others pointedly ignore, and Yoongi is the first to draw from the dare pile, and Taehyung- who is reading over his shoulder- shrieks.

Run naked to the end of the street and back <3

Oh. 

Yoongi turns as red as a ghoul can go (which is to say, not very) and says he’s glad he can turn invisible, and promptly disappears from view. The only suggestion that he even leaves the room is the door opening and closing.  Jimin says pointedly that he bets Yoongi is still in the room, but a minute later the door goes again, and Yoongi appears once more at the table, pink-cheeked and panting. Jimin scowls like a child and calls him a spoilsport.

The game continues in this vein until Namjoon gets your dare.

“Put on socks?” he says, confused.

“Yes!” You nod. “It’s very cold.”

Seokjin laughs. “You really are an angel.”

You beam at him.

Namjoon goes to find socks.

“Stop making googly eyes at each other,” says an exasperated Jimin. “I’m bored.”

Taehyung nudges the jars toward Seokjin. “Your turn.”

He makes a drawn out show of searching for the best one while not actually looking, claiming he can tell who wrote it by the way they folded the paper. He pulls out one he says was ‘obviously’ written by Yoongi, but by the gleeful look on Jimin’s face, you wonder if it was really him.

“Kiss your favourite person in the room,” reads Seokjin. He stares very hard at the paper. He’s not even blinking.

Taehyung and Jimin break the silence with a giggle. Namjoon is back, with more socks on, and his eyes dart between you and Seokjin. And now your eyes have turned into curious little fiends too, looking from Seokjin to the paper to Seokjin to the paper, to your hands, which are suddenly very interesting for no reason at all.

Seokjin looks at you for a long time. Seokjin turns red. And then Seokjin kisses Yoongi on the cheek.

“Forfeit!” yells Namjoon.

723 BC

March 9th. 8:02pm. A little chilly, but not unpleasantly so.

Today, the cold weather has you craving kimchi jjigae, and Seokjin has only complained three-hundred times about it. He says he made a table full of food, he asks why you can’t wait until everyone else arrives, he says of course you’d want the one thing he hadn’t made. He makes it anyway, and mutters that none of his other friends are as demanding nor as needy, including Taehyung. 

The reason for the sheer amount of food adorning the table is because today is Yoongi’s birthday, and Seokjin is throwing him a party. Even though he’s sort of dead… and doesn’t need to eat. (It’s both pointless and confusing.)

You sit in front of the fire, bowl of jjigae warming your belly, kicking your legs contentedly while you wait for the guests to arrive. 

Seokjin is anxious. He adjusts the position of the furniture six times. He wipes over his ornaments twice. He sweeps the floor three times and shoots you a glare when you try to help by using a little miracle to evaporate every speck of dust in the entire house. Normally he appreciates the privilege your miracles bring, since he lost access to his own, not tonight apparently. At first you attribute his sour mood to the idea of people he hardly knows invading his space, because while Yoongi is the quietest being you’ve ever known, he’s somehow friends with everyone in a twenty-mile radius. But Seokjin has hosted before - it’s nothing unusual for him to play host for others and dissolve into the background once everyone starts enjoying themselves. 

No. Something else is going on here.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

“Talk about what?” Seokjin mutters with a scowl, distracted by fussing over a china pot that’s apparently three millimetres out of place. 

“Whatever it is that has you acting like you’re not enjoying my company.”

Seokjin looks up at you, expression unreadable. The silence hangs uncomfortably until it’s interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. It’s the first guests, bringing with them gifts of food and wine. 

People filter in quickly after that. You don’t know many, but those you recognise offer a friendly hello or a polite bow in your direction. You tend to keep your distance from most people, at least those who don’t know your true identity as an Angel of the Lord, but you do enjoy their idle chatter. It’s ever so interesting, the matters that concern them, the small things that bring them joy in their (without any disrespect) insignificant lives. You’d tried engaging a human in conversation once, at a market Seokjin brought you to, but Taehyung had laughed and suggested you needed more practice interacting with people. After that you lost your confidence. 

Perhaps tonight could be another opportunity, if Seokjin has enough wine to make his guests less suspicious. 

You jump up, fetching bottles and cups from the other room and passing them around with a smile. The humans accept them gratefully. There’s nothing like alcohol to get people talking. Thirty minutes later the room is full, and loud, and everyone is on (at least) their third drink. With a wave of your hand, the guests' cups are refilled, and thankfully it’s only Seokjin that seems to notice. He waves you over from the other side.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Helping,” you say.

“We don’t need to get everyone drunk before he arrives.” He stares at the door.

“I don’t think Yoongi would mind,” you say. “Hasn’t he been half-drunk every time I’ve seen him?”

“Oh, not him,” Seokjin says absent-mindedly.

You frown.

“Who then?”

Just then, the door bursts open and a dishevelled Yoongi is carried through on the shoulders of Taehyung and Jimin, with a panicked Namjoon following closely behind - hands outstretched as if that would help Yoongi if he were to fall. 

Everyone cheers. Someone pours them a drink. Seokjin continues to stare at the door.

Weird.

After leaving Seokjin to his own devices you decide to work the room and quickly discover how right you were about the alcohol. It’s been forty-five minutes and you can’t escape a man who doesn’t seem to know whose birthday it is, but is very glad for the opportunity to talk about his herd of goats and all the trouble he’s having with one particular fox. 

“I wouldn’t mind if it was a one off but it seems like the bastard has it out for me.” 

“That’s terrible.” You commiserate, trying to look interested while scanning the room in search of an out. The few people you know well enough to call for help from are otherwise occupied. Taehyung is pouring wine into Jimin’s open mouth. Yoongi and Namjoon are sitting around the table deep in conversation with an elderly woman and her husband. 

“-usually one a day,” he says, slurring his words. “Sometimes two!” 

“Awful,” you agree.

Seokjin is standing by the door, face impassive, talking out of the corner of his mouth to a man who wasn’t here earlier. He’s impossibly tall, doesn’t look like anyone else in the room, all sallow skin and sunken eyes. Seokjin has a wrinkle in his nose suggesting there’s a bad smell nearby. You’d bet your immortal soul it’s the man next to him.

“-at this point it’d take a bloody miracle to save my herd-”

“A miracle,” you echo, hardly listening, too busy looking at how the man holds out his hand. The eager gleam in his hollow eyes. How Seokjin’s lips curl with distaste but he shakes his hand anyway.

“I’m fucked if it carries on,” your companion says, voice breaking.

 “Yeah,” you breathe. There’s a pit forming in your stomach. “Fucked.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, me too,” you say. “I’ve just got to- uh- go… Over there.” And you’re weaving through the people in the room to get to Seokjin and the stranger who has your hackles raised like no one else has had in centuries.

“Seokjin!” you say with false brightness, smile tight. “Who’s your friend?”

Seokjin turns to you, eyes wide and desperate.

“Not now,” he whispers. “Please.”

You stand firm, undeterred. “I’m Seokjin’s friend-” 

And then the man turns his glare on you, and you see it. You smell it. 

A demon.

You can hardly contain your gasp. 

The demon grins. His teeth are unbrushed. “The angel says she’s your friend, Seokjin, and you haven’t told her what you’ve been doing? Who you’ve been talking to. Tut tut.”

Your gaze snaps to Seokjin who looks like he’s about to be sick.

“Told me what?”

“Not now,” Seokjin snaps. 

You’ve never seen him like it, not once in three centuries. Face suddenly hard and unmoving. Not even during your fight about his friend's lack of mortality. The pit in your stomach grows. Something horrible is happening and you can’t figure it out. 

“Go home,” he says, resigned. “We’ll talk later.”

“But it’s Yoongi’s birthday-” you start, but the hard line of Seokjin’s lips tell you your argument is pointless.

“He’s my friend, Angel,” he says, voice raising enough to attract a few looks from the people nearby. “Mine. Not yours. Go.”

Seokjin shouts. Shouts often, in fact. A drama queen if one ever existed. But Seokjin doesn’t shout at you. Not like that. One last wary glance between your friend and the demon at his shoulder, and you’re back at your desk wondering what in Heaven just happened.

723 BC

March 10th. 6:42am. Cold. Uncomfortably so, but perhaps that’s just the vibe in the room.

Seokjin doesn’t notice you’re back. But then he is fast asleep in his chair, several empty bottles at his feet. There’s drool running down his chin.

“Wake up,” you say. The miracle helps him along with stirring. You’re impatient this morning. He blinks awake, and upon seeing you standing above him, he groans.

“M’too drunk for this righnow.”

“Then sober up.”

Seokjin scowls and slurs in an accusatory tone, “you took my miracles, remember? You’ll hav-to wait for me to do it the human way.” He’s very green. “Pass me a bucket won’t you, m’gonna be sick.”

You arch an eyebrow, thoroughly disgruntled, and he groans louder as the alcohol dissipates from his bloodstream.

Now sheepish, Seokjin straightens up awkwardly. He doesn’t look at you.

“I don’t care for the way you treated me last night,” you begin. 

Seokjin nods.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“I also don’t care for your meeting with demons.”

Seokjin shifts awkwardly, rubs at his forehead, but the apology you expected is noticeably absent.

You suck in a breath. “Aren’t you going to explain?”

He nudges one of the bottles on the ground with his toe, watching it turn on its side, letting the silence hang heavy around you.

After a minute, you can’t bear it any longer. “Seok-”

“Can’t you see I’m miserable?” he cuts in. 

You sigh. “Well, yes I had noticed.”

You know it’s been a long time since he’s been home, there’s bound to be some apprehension about returning. But you’ll be there too. You’ve got sway with the committee now that you’ve been “putting in the work” with the banished angels, you can put in a good word for him, get him into a position that gives him more freedom to visit Earth now and then. You explain all this, but Seokjin shakes his head, but apparently that wasn’t a good idea because he holds it in his hands and groans.

“Angel, you don’t get it,” he snaps. “Why would I want to go back? Back to that place where they only give a shit about one corner of the world-”

“That’s not true-” you interject.

“It is true,” Seokjin insists. “The past four-thousand years it’s been Jerusalem this, Jerusalem that. Bethlehem and Jordan and Egypt.”

“They’re great places!”

“Yes, but everywhere else is great too. What makes one place better than the rest? What was the point of making all of this beauty if the one book of any importance doesn’t talk about it? If it’s just going to be gone-” He snaps his fingers. “-in two thousand years. All anyone goes on about is Noah, and Abraham, and Joseph and his stupid fucking coat! What is the point of me? Of us?”

“It’s in the plan-”

“Oh- who cares about a coat? What could the plan possibly say about that?” Seokjin is standing now, red faced and pulling at his hair. “What about these people?” He’s raising his voice again. “These people here? The people on the other side of the world? Where are their stories? Why isn’t anyone writing about them?”

“They will!”

“When?” 

You don’t know. You don’t know anything. 

“When it’s significant!”

“Isn’t everyone significant? Isn’t that the point?”

Yes. Yes and no. They’re obviously significant to each other, but not necessarily in the grand scheme of things. Seokjin doesn’t like that answer. His frown deepens when you suggest his faith is being tested.

“That was the stupidest idea they could’ve come up with,” Seokjin rants. “the notion of testing and tempting. No one can live without breaking one of these ridiculous made up rules or else our souls be damned for eternity. What’s the point? Be miserable for your entire life or be miserable for eternity. Can’t anyone enjoy anything without worrying for their immortal soul?”

“I don’t like this conversation,” you say.

“Of course you don’t,” says Seokjin bluntly. “Makes you uncomfortable, does it? You know I have a point and you don’t like thinking badly of our Heavenly Mother.”

You frown. “I’m not thinking badly of Her. It’s just- I don’t know. I don’t like it when you make me question things. We’re made to obey.” 

Seokjin scoffs. His eyes are so unusually cold. “I don’t want to obey.”

Your breath catches.

“What are you saying?” 

Seokjin hesitates. There’s a moment where you think he won’t say it, but then - “I hate it up there, Angel,” he says, and your throat goes dry and tight and uncomfortable as you remember the way the demon’s tongue rolled around the word angel, how it’s so different from the way Seokjin addresses you. You recognise the demon now, know him for exactly who he is and what he did to your friend. Leviathan, Prince of the Seraphim, tempting mankind and angels alike into heresy.

“You can’t seriously want to join their side?”

Seokjin’s face goes tight. “Of course I don’t. I want to be on my own side.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

You stare at one another.

“I’m not going back,” he says, brows knitting together.

“You have to.” 

“Angel-” he says it gently, with a tenderness so at odds with the way he spoke only moments before. “I can’t. I won’t be a hypocrite.”

“No-” you shake your head, reaching out and taking his hands in yours. He stares at you, confused by your insistence and your tears threaten to spill over. “Seokjin you don’t understand- if you don’t go back, they’ll know, they’ll kill you for defecting-”

“They can’t-”

“They can,” you insist. “Holy fire.”

Seokjin pales. 

“You haven’t got your miracles. You can’t survive it.”

He drops your hands. Sinks into the chair behind him and stares blankly at the wall. 

“Come back when you’re called, Seokjin,” you say, resolute. “For my sake.”

His eyes flit to meet yours. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” you say desperately, but you don’t know who you’re trying to convince at this point. It might be your home but Seokjin has never liked the way it’s run. But he’ll be safe, and that’s what matters. “I’ll help you.”

Seokjin smiles weakly. “Alright, Angel.” 

“Another thing I don’t care for is the way you’re calling me Angel.”

“Why?”

You reach out, pick a loose thread from the shoulder of his tunic. “It implies we’re too different.”

“Aren’t we different?” he says. 

He’s not looking at you. Instead his absent gaze is turned into the empty fireplace, staring at the ash left over from the night before.

“Not in that sense.”

Seokjin’s lips twist in a way that silently says not yet.

[m-questionnaire]

NaFM: Ch 9 (10?) and misc. thoughts

I don't count the prologue as the first chapter, so I guess it's chapter 9?

(This is a test post similar to those blogs. Simply curious to how it would work when I type my thoughts. Not bad so far lol)

Honestly, the chapter is going to be super long (40k+ words), and with that in mind, I'm sorta dreading how long the chapter covering the 5th yr will be. I feel sorta bad for the readers (srry, if u do read this lol), but I also don't care much cuz I'm sticking to the format of 1 chapter per school yr.

I've been fluctuating between working on Not a Future Missus and continuing planning this x-over fic I have posted (also on my AO3) for two diff. fandoms. Gosh, I also have so many other ideas for HP fics, including a Tom Riddle Sr-centric fic (one of those what-ifs in which Sr. raises pre-Voldy Tom) and a Drarry fic with the Veela!Draco trope (or a Veela!Draco fic with Drarry?), both of which I'm likely to type out; there's also a possible "spin-off" w/ NaFM, but employing time travel??? Idek anymore lol! But goodness the HP world has so much potential despite its numerous controversies (which I won't bring up cuz I'm not looking to start a war).

And sadly (maybe not for some ppl), no Dramione plans as of yet. Yes, I ship it as much as Drarry (don't hate on me now, or at least do it without a word cuz I'm a multi-shipper who refuses to fight over ships), though I haven't been reading much Dramione fics nowadays... or Drarry, since I fandom jump quite a bit.

Anyway, maybe I'll get rid of some scenes, or I'll keep it as it is (my fic, my management muhaha), but I maybe possibly probably perhaps should just make Harry and Ella/fem!Draco kiss each other and type the "23 yrs later" epilogue and be done with the fic LMAO! (April 1, 2024 plans???? If it's still incomplete by then???)

What hobbies do I even have at this point, besides reading/writing fanfics? The occasional doodle/drawing, certainly. And maintaining my Duolingo streak????

To whoever reads this honest-to-goodness sorta-long post, srry for the chaotic writing/typing! Just blurting this out before sleepy time LOL! (Sleep deprivation sure is making me taaalk and I'm probably gonna cringe the next time I see this if ever lmaoo)

Well, if anyone reading this post (and my fic) has proceeded this far, have a preview I may/may not include/edit for the next chapter!

     “What’s the point of this task if we can’t even watch?” Ella grumbled as she glared at the lake. The waters were still as the second task progressed, with only an occasional ripple on the surface. The crowd chattered as they awaited the champions, but Ella was growing impatient.      It had been months since the Yule Ball, and the Scottish Highlands were slowly readying for the coming spring. There was still a noticeable chill in the air, but that didn’t stop the continuation of the Triwizard Tournament. The second task had begun half an hour ago, and to say the least, the surface-dwelling spectators were growing bored.      “If only they used Muggle filming methods,” Tracey said disappointedly from Ella’s right side. “They have these cameras, and you can connect them to these screens that project what’s happening through the lenses. It’s like our moving pictures, but everything happens in real time. I’ve been told about them sometimes.”      “Somebody needs to invent a spell like that if they haven’t already,” Ella said.       Casual conversations continued as time passed. At this point, everyone was preoccupied with each other, with only a few occasional glances towards the water. During the wait, Pansy ended up braiding Ella’s hair, before tying it and switching to Daphne. Why everyone had to get up at nine o’clock in the morning to stand in the cold and watch a lake was Ella’s main concern, but this was one of the more boring days compared to the last few years.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi, love!! Can I get some new inexperienced Sherlock recs?? Thanks!! 💚💚💚

Hi Lovely!!

Absolutely!! Here's what I've filed so far, with a just a quick perusal of the tags. I still have to refile a tonne of my bookmarks, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway! As always, please add your own :)

INEXPERIENCED SHERLOCK

See also:

Virgin Sherlock

Virgin Sherlock Pt. 2

Riptide Lover Remix: Firsthand Research by jinglebell (E, 1,779 w., 1 Ch. || Merfolk AU || Merman John, Interspecies Porn, Subtle Masochism, Huge Cock, Size Kink, Anal, Domination, Rough Sex, Prostate Massage, Forced Orgasm, Prostate Milking, PWP) – A Riptide Lover spinoff in which John is the undine. Sherlock is arse-fucked by a merman on an abandoned dock. He loves it. A companion piece to Riptide Lover.

What He's Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much.

fulfilling for other people by missselene (E, 3,957 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Unhappy Fic, Unrequited Love Confession, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock decides to act on John’s advice regarding romantic entanglements, the results are far from what John expected. Part 1 of fulfilling for other people

The Inciting Incident by beetlemate (M, 6,291 w., 1 Ch. || Masturbation, Embarrassed Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Fluff, Friends to Lovers) – John catches Sherlock in a compromising position. With a secret photograph. He absolutely must know what is in that bloody photograph.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier. 

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

[undyingskies]

Jealous

Hello everyone, I am back yet again with another Charlie fic! I really enjoyed writing this one, it was a lot of fun! Also it’s long about 3,000+ words, I read over it and edited it as much as I could, so I really hope I caught all the mistakes! As usual I am happy to take requests, especially because I am starting to run low on ideas! Anyways, hope you enjoy! xoxo 

Warnings: None really, there is a little make out sesh but it’s not long!

_________________________________________

        Season 2 came before you knew it, even though it felt like the renewal of Julie and The Phantoms took forever. But the minute it got renewed to now felt like a whirlwind of activities that happened before you could even take a breath in.

Now it’s two months into filming and this is the first time you’ve been able to visit your boyfriend Charlie since the start of it. You had to finish your semester of school before you could come visit him, knowing that you’d never get any schoolwork done if you came to visit during the semester.

It was a long two months and you truly could not be happier to be sitting smushed between Charlie and Owen in the car heading to set at 6 am. Any other time you would have dreaded being up so early but it didn’t seem so bad with your boyfriend’s hand resting on your thigh and the bickering of the two boys.

“You guys have been up for maybe an hour and you seriously haven’t stopped to take a breath from whatever you guys are arguing about this time.” You laugh, while pointing it out, because seriously it started the minute they woke up this morning and hasn’t stopped.

“Y/N, I feel like you’ve forgotten the dynamic that goes on between these two and their early mornings. We have sleep beauty number 1 and 2 here!” Jeremy laughs from the front seat.

You know he’s right; these two boys bicker non-stop anyways but especially on early mornings since they both love their sleep.

“Thanks for coming to set today baby, I know you got in yesterday but I don’t think I would have been able to get much done today knowing you’re sitting at the apartment waiting for me.” Charlie whispers into your ear sending chills down your spine and butterflies to erupt in your stomach at his early morning voice.

“Of course, you know I wouldn’t miss it for a thing besides I miss the rest of the cast! I’m excited to see them!”

A smile takes its place on Charlie’s face and he leaves a small kiss on your neck before turning back to look at his phone.

You originally met Charlie on the set of Julie and the Phantoms season 1. You never wanted to be on the big screen or some big actor but the industry always intrigued you so you signed up with a local company to be an extra for sets. It let you travel, see the business, and put money in your pocket when you weren’t doing school.

You were an extra for the crowd scenes, so basically any time the band played you were there watching. One day before they started filming, you were watching Dirty Candy perform and without thinking you started doing the choreography with them. You had been a dancer for about 12 years but a bad knee injury took you out of the game. Your love for dance never stopped though so you really enjoyed watching them perform.

I guess the girls had noticed you doing the choreography so they approached you asking if you were a new dancer on set. Embarrassed that they caught you dancing, you let them know you weren’t, you just watched them so many times you had memorized it by accident.

The girls were really nice and you quickly took a liking to Savannah and Tori, they would ask you to hang out while they practiced because you could pick out little details to fix or make better. From there it turned into a beautiful friendship, they started inviting you to hang out off set and to all the hang outs with the rest of the cast. Then before you knew it, you were a part of the group and always attached to their sides.

When you first met Charlie, of course he got your attention, his cute smile and energy would grab anyone’s. You never really thought much of it after though, but you always did notice that he would always look at you and for a little extra longer, he paid a little more attention to you when everyone was talking as well as you, and he always seemed to smile just a little bigger when he’d pull you into a hug to say hello.

Then one day he asked you out, just like that. Savannah and Tori mentioned that they thought he was going too but you didn’t think he would. Nothing ever really happened between you two, it was just a friendship where you flirted sometimes, but like you said before you noticed those small things but didn’t think much of it.

Of course you said yes though, he looked so nervous and cute that you felt yourself fall almost immediately after that. Which pretty much happened, after your first date  there was another and then another, and then you guys were in a relationship and pretty much inseparable.

A tug to your hand pulls you out of your thoughts, you guys had arrived on set and Charlie was tugging you out of the car. Sometimes the boy forgets his own strength and he has you tripping out of the car. He laughs and stabilizes you by grabbing onto your hips. He looks down at you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips that was quickly interrupted.

“Is that Y/N  we see?” You hear Tori squeal followed by a “Yes that sure is.” from Savannah. Then they’re both next to you pulling you apart from Charlie and engulfing you in a group hug between the two girls.

It does feel good to be back with them, they quickly became two of your closest friends during your time as an extra on the show and you never lost touch with them either.

“Charlie, they need you in costume quick, they want to start as soon as they can to-Y/N!!” You hear your name yelled and arms wrap around your waist.

You turn to see the one and only Madison Reyes, you’re quick to wrap your arms around her as well. You loved the girl and she felt like a younger sister to you, she always came to you to talk and tell you secrets. You had really missed her even though she did facetime you about once a day.

“Mads it’s good to see you, I’ve missed you girly!”

“I’ve missed you too ya know, those facetime calls just don’t always cut it.” She laughs. “Anyways they do need us, they want to start filming as fast as they can today.” She says turning to Charlie and letting you go.

“Well you wouldn’t mind if we stole your girlfriend then would you Charlie since you’re busy?” Tori asks. “Besides you had her all yesterday, it’s our turn now.” You laugh at the girl’s words and turn to your boyfriend.

“I guess it’s alright, I’ll see you on set then? You said you’d watch our performance today.” Charlie says while pulling you in for one last hug before you depart.

“Of course, you know I wouldn’t miss that!” He places a kiss on your lips before he leaves with Madi and you with the girls. Who are both staring at you almost two excitedly.

“You two scare me sometimes, so much energy so early in the morning.” All of you laughing at your words. You follow them to the area where they will be filming but they have chairs and breakfast set up as well. You’re sitting with the girls, just drinking some coffee for the time being.

“So how has it been Y/N, does it feel good to be back around this craziness?” Savannah asks you.

“It’s been good, as far as life goes not much has changed since we all last talked! I finished the semester strong and only have two semesters left which is a relief. I hope when I’m done that means I will get to be around more and to travel with Charlie. And of course if feels good to be back! I’ve missed it and everyone really. I was bummed not to be able to re-sign to do extra work but I had to focus on school.” You tell the girls.

“Oh of course, we get that. Everyone here just misses you so much especially Charlie! As much as I am glad, you’re here so we can see you, I may be more glad because now we don’t have to hear him complain about how much he misses you.” You laugh at Tori’s words. The girls decided to actually send you quotes of the day that Charlie said about how much he missed you, that boy was quite dramatic but the quotes did end up being the highlight of your day more often than not.

You’re engulfed in conversation with the girls and don’t even realize the time flying by. They talk about the new season how it’s going, the new dances that they’re doing, your relationship and any other topic you could really think of.

A flash of orange catches your attention, you know that orange beanie like that back of your hand and you’re glad to see that it’s making its appearance in season 2. You follow the hat as it’s weaving through people and see it stop in front of the cameras.

Charlie’s eyes catching yours, he gives you his dazzling smile and wave in your direction before Kenny pulls his attention back to him but not before Kenny throws a wave in your direction as well.

“Well we got to go, we’re all in this scene but we’ll see you after!” Savannah says pulling you into a hug, Tori quickly following her movements.

Now you’re left alone, to watch the scene unfold in front of you. It really is so much fun to watch them all interact with each other on and off the screen. It’s such a wonderful dynamic they all have going on.

This scene is some scene at school, where Dirty Candy confronts Julie. Julie has the boys behind her giving her comebacks to all the jabs thrown her way from Carrie. It’s actually a funny scene watching the boys yell the things at Julie.

Take one, take two, take three, take four, and then a large grumble erupts from your stomach pulling your thoughts away from the scene before you.

You look down at your watch to check the time, it has been about two hours and you’ve been so distracted by everything that you forgot to eat. The moment of realization makes your hunger grow about ten times more. You quickly make your way over to the food table.

There’s donuts, brownies, cookies, some croissants, an assortment of chips, and some breakfast sandwiches. Honestly it all looked so good, and your stomach was telling you to get a bit of everything. The donuts and croissants calling your name the most, and maybe one chocolate chip cookie as well. You’re finishing up putting together your plate and grabbing a water when a voice startles you.

“I’ve never seen you before, are you new here?” You turn to see a boy, probably about your age, dressed in the schools letterman jacket.

“Oh no, not really.” You say with a smile, turning back to grab your water and food, to walk back to where you were sitting.

“Oh really? I guess I’ve missed you around here then, what’s your name?” He asks, following your lead and sitting in the chair across from you. Guess this conversation isn’t over, you think.

“Ya, I’m actually just visiting. I was an extra for the first season. It’s Y/N.” You say hoping that was the end, but nope.

“Oh cool, I’m Josh.” He says leaning in, reaching out his hand for a handshake while scooting closer to you. Almost too close and beginning to ask more questions.

Little did you know, that someone’s eyes were on you watching the whole situation. The longer Charlie watched the more he could feel the pit in his stomach growing. He didn’t like how close that guy was sitting next to you or the way every time you said something he would just lean that much closer.

The look in that guys eyes could have made Charlie stop in the middle of the scene and yell something, but he’s too professional for that. But that look, he knows what that looks means, that guy liked you and he didn’t understand why you weren’t stopping the conversation. The pit in his stomach now a giant hole and his ears and face on fire from anger or is it jealousy he thought.

“And cut. That’s the last take for this one, great job guys!” He hears Kenny yell and before anyone could talk to him, he’s got his eyes locked on you and walking straight towards you.

A pair of arms wrapped around your shoulder and a kiss to your neck scares you, pulling you out of the conversation that never felt like it was gonna end. You can see Josh’s eyes widen at the action that just unfolded in front of him and before he could say anything you hear Charlie pipe up from behind you.

“Hi baby, who’s this?” You can hear him ask in a tone you never heard before; he sounds upset?

“Oh um this is Josh; he was just telling me about the role he’s playing this season.”

Charlie reached his hand out to shake Josh’s hand.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Josh, it’s weird that I’ve never seen you before. I appreciate you keeping my girlfriend company while I was just a little busy.” You can practically hear the jealousy coming from his voice and you don’t miss how Charlie emphases the world girlfriend.

Josh visibly gets uncomfortable by his words.

“Oh ya man, sure. Sorry, she didn’t mention she was here for her boyfriend, just said she was visiting.” He says giving an excuse to why he’s so close to one of the stars of the show girlfriend.

“Oh she didn’t, interesting...” Charlie says trailing off and giving you a look you don’t think you’d ever want to see again.

“As much as I would have loved to bring up the fact, I had a boyfriend there wasn’t much of a moment for me to mention it between Josh’s story telling.” You say getting upset at Josh and Charlie’s actions. Sass and frustration evident in your voice.

You can see Josh’s cheeks get slightly red. Charlie is quick to grab your hand and start to pull you away with a quick,

“Well nice to meet you bud. We’ve got to be going now.” He says while still pulling you away.

The minute you’re out of sight and hidden behind a wall Charlie has you pinned against the wall and his lips on yours.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch up before he has his tongue swiping your bottom lip to get in. He’s quick to bite down on your bottom lip, a moan escaping you.

Your hands entangle in his hair pulling him closer, his hands gripping your hips pulling you up to have your legs wrap around his waist. Charlie moves his hands down to cup your butt giving it a slap as he starts to attack your neck with his lips.

You can’t help but lean your neck to the side giving your boy all the access he wants, basking in the feeling of his lips on your skin.

You’re pulled out of your little world when you hear voices and they sound like they’re getting closer.

“Char...Charlie, stop, someone... there is someone coming.” You struggle to get out as he keeps kissing your neck, you place your hands on his chest to give him a little push away. You’re able to get him to detach himself from your neck and place you back on your feet.

Two people walk past you guys giving you small awkward smiles, definitely knowing what was happening due how close you guys were standing, the mess that Charlie’s hair now is, and what you can only imagine is two pairs of swollen lips.

When they leave, he’s quick to attach his lips back to yours. But you place your hands on his chest pushing you away a little bit, even though it took everything in you to do so because man is that boys mouth magic.

“Baby, what’s going on? As much as I know you and your love for what’s happening, it’s never this public.” You ask, slightly concerned at your boyfriends behavior.

He shakes his head a little and moves his hand to rub the back of his neck, a pink tint appearing on his cheeks.

“I just, I don’t know thought it’d be fun.” He says not making eye contact.

“Oh that’s some BS Gillespie, what’s up?” You knew your boyfriend too well and that was a cop out answer.

“I just, I didn’t like how that guy was looking at you, or sitting so close to you and then he brought up how you didn’t say you were here for me and I just I don’t know...” He trails off still looking away sheepishly.

A small smile does form on your face as his words, you’ve never seen Charlie get jealous and truthfully it was a little cute.

“Oh so someone was jealous?” You ask with a little laugh.

“What me? Jealous? No, never!” Again, he’s trying to brush it off; but with the lift of your eyebrows he knows you’re not buying it.

“Fine, I was jealous okay? I know it’s bad to be jealous but whatever...”

“Actually, I think it’s pretty cute.” You say with a little laugh, grabbing onto his arm to pull him closer to you.

“Really?” He asks with his signature smirk and that tone of cockiness he just always seems to sport just a little. He now has his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you just that much closer, if it’s even possible.

You give him a nod and lead his lips back down to yours to interlock them again. This time he pulls away but leaves his forehead leaning on yours.

“I love having you here, even if it means you get hit on by gross extras.” You laugh at his words and the fact that his insult is what a twelve-year-old would come up with.

“I love being here, you know that. I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too sweet stuff, just don’t forget you’re here to see your very handsome boyfriend.” You both laugh together at his words.

“How could I ever forget? Plus it seems like if he thinks so he gets a little jealous and I don’t mind the outcome of it.”

“Oh shut up, you’re my girlfriend just gotta make sure everyone knows.” You roll your eyes at his words and he leans down again to place another kiss on your lips.

“Yep, your girlfriend and don’t you forget it.”

You both laugh again as you pull him in for another kiss. Your boyfriend may be a little crazy but you wouldn’t change it for the world because nothing feels better than being able to be back in his arms and laughing in between sweet kisses.