#but heres what has been on my mind so far

[dairogo]

As far as I'm aware, this is a shift in fandom culture over the years. When I started in fandom in the early 2000s, it was fairly frequent that people would comment with "I love how you blah! Oh, but what about this? And there was a typo here if you want to fix it. But it was so good!", and I think that's because fanfiction dot net didn't call it commenting. They called it reviewing. That word literally set the tone for you putting in pros and cons. It may be that a significant section of the fandom never saw it this way, but "reviewing" in my mind always allowed the balance of pros and cons so long as it was couched in friendly terms and the goal was to give the writer encouragement alonside a small, achievable thing to work on, NOT to tear them down. I did this with friends and made friends this way because it was an understanding we had. I thought it was how everyone viewed it. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't.

Then there were flames. That's when someone reviewed your work but in such an aggressive, non-constructive way that it was just demoralising. This has always been discouraged on fandom platforms, as far as I'm aware.

Ao3 calls the interactive section "commenting", not "reviewing", and this to me marks the specific difference. It denotes a place for community-building, not craft-building. The intention is not for writers asking for con-crit, but people sharing what they enjoy together. If writers are looking for constructive criticism they can note it in their author's note, but it's best to assume they're not looking for it and won't welcome it, unless you know them well enough to make that judgement separately.

I took a while to adjust when I swapped from ffn to Ao3. I have commented on people's things with what I believe to be constructive criticism, but because it is a comment section, not a review section, the reception of these comments was significantly different from how it was on ffn in the early 2000s. Constructive criticism cannot be received well if a person isn't anticipating it. Like when you're venting and someone tries to solve the problem. You might be saying something helpful, but they're not ready to hear it and it's not the purpose of the conversation.

I miss the casual and conversational concrit of ffn - it helped me grow a lot as a writer, and it taught me how to be empathetic in confrontation on either side of the situation. But it's not what Ao3 is, and I wouldn't want to force it to be. Ao3 has a different purpose and it does it very well.

I just saw a Tik Tok that said writers on AO3 are not looking for constructive criticism in their reviews. I have no audience on this platform so I have to know if this is true? I've always left my pros and cons when reading a fic and now I'm concerned that the authors didn't like that.

Yeah writers are Not looking for criticism, constructive or otherwise. Unless they specifically ask for it, it’s considered rude and honestly a bit hurtful. In the least bitchy way possible, don’t do that. It’s unwanted.

[daeniradraconis]

High on Love - Jack H.

Hey lovelies! 💖 I know I promised to work on Age is Just a Number and my Auston Matthews fic, but an idea for a story about Jack being high on pain meds after surgery popped into my head, and I couldn’t resist writing it first! But don’t worry, the others are definitely coming soon!

I hope you enjoy reading it! ✨

For more fun: masterlist

---

Jack stirs, his lashes fluttering against pale skin. He looks exhausted, the painkillers keeping him soft and pliant, his limbs heavy against the hospital bed. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face when his bleary eyes land on you.

“Babe,” he sighs, his voice thick and warm, like honey. He reaches for your hand but completely misses, his fingers clumsily grasping at the air before falling back to the sheets.

You take his hand gently, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here, love.”

Jack just stares at you, utterly smitten. His pupils are wide, his hair a mess, and there’s an almost childlike wonder in his expression. And yet, even like this, completely drugged out and ridiculous, he’s still stupidly handsome. It’s almost unfair.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “My pretty little girlfriend.”

You giggle, rubbing soft circles against the back of his hand. Yep, he’s definitely still high as a kite. “Thank you, baby.”

Jack’s brows knit together suddenly. “Wait. Are you real? Or am I… dead?”

Ellen sighs from the chair on the other side of the bed, watching all of this unfold with thinly veiled amusement. “She’s real, Jack.”

Jack’s head lolls toward her, his sleepy eyes blinking in surprise. “Mom?”

“Yes, Jack,” Ellen says patiently. She looks tired, but there’s something else in her expression, too. A tenderness, a quiet fondness, like she’s looking at her baby boy rather than her fully grown 23-year-old son.

Jack stares at her for a long moment before his eyes suddenly widen. He turns back to you, gripping your hand with what little strength he has.

“Babe. We got caught.”

Your stomach drops slightly. He can’t mean—

“What?”

Jack swallows hard, looking genuinely panicked. “She knows about us.”

You exchange a glance with Ellen, whose lips are already twitching with laughter.

“Jack,” you say carefully, “we’ve been together for three years. And, sweetheart, your mom caught us five months in. She’s known for a long time.”

Jack shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no. We were in spy mode. No one was supposed to know.”

Ellen snorts. “Jack. I caught you a long time ago.”

Jack frowns. “No, you didn’t.”

Ellen exhales sharply, rubbing her forehead like she feels a migraine coming on. “I walked in on you two.”

Jack tilts his head, eyes clouded with confusion. He looks far too cute to be taken seriously.

Ellen’s voice grows exasperated. “In your kitchen, Jack. You were barely dressed. And your father was with me. We saw you.”

Jack looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Mom. Be serious.”

“I AM SERIOUS.”

Jack just blinks at her, completely unconvinced. “Nah. Didn’t happen.”

Ellen groans, rubbing a hand down her face. “Oh, for the love of—” She turns to you, confused. “You remember, right?”

You bite your lip, your face heating at the memory. “I definitely remember. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Jack, you didn’t have pants on. And I didn’t have anything on top.”

Jack squints at you, gaze searching. Then, suddenly, his expression softens, a slow, lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“I just remember how hot you look naked.”

Ellen groans again. “Jack, concentrate.”

You sigh, smoothing your fingers through Jack’s messy hair. “Baby, I think the pain meds are making you a little loopy.”

Jack hums, leaning into your touch like a lost puppy. “Love when you call me baby.” His lips quirk up at the corners. “Say it again.”

Ellen shakes her head, an incredulous but affectionate smile tugging at her lips. “And here I was, worrying that all those times you hit your head on the ice had done some real damage,” Ellen sighs. “Turns out, all you needed were painkillers to go completely off the rails.” She pushes herself up from the chair with a smirk. “I’m getting a coffee. You two lovebirds enjoy this little moment.”

She barely makes it two steps before Jack’s entire face lights up.

“WAIT.”

You both jump.

Jack gasps dramatically. “WHERE IS LUKE?!”

You and Ellen share a confused look. “Jack, you’re not at home, darling. You’re in the hospital. Luke’s with the team, playing.”

Ellen pinches the bridge of her nose. “These drugs are brutal, Y/N. He’s completely lost it.”

Jack squeezes your hand, looking so heartbreakingly lost that you almost feel bad for laughing. “But I want Luke! He’s the best roommate.” His voice is full of pure, unfiltered adoration. “And he’s so smart. Like, genius-level math smart. He knows how to do derivatives, baby. I don’t even know how to spell that. And his hair? So curly. So perfect. It’s—” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s unfair.”

You and Ellen barely manage to hold back your laughter as Jack scowls, grumbling under his breath about “stupid, unfairly perfect genetics.”

“You’re really jealous, aren’t you, Jacky?” you tease.

Jack nods aggressively. “YES. And he’s taller than me. It’s messed up. I’m the older one. I should be the taller one.”

You smile softly. “But you love him, not right?”

Jack sighs. “So much.” His lip wobbles slightly. “He’s my best friend.”

Ellen tilts her head, amused. “Quinn’s not gonna like that, Jack.”

Jack gasps, eyes wide with panic. “Ohh, don’t tell Quinn that, Mom!” Then he turns to you. “Babe, Quinn is so cool.”

You bite back a laugh. “I know, sweetheart. I met him.”

Jack nods with absolute conviction. “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s not just smart—he’s brilliant. Emotional intelligence, problem-solving, all that deep, psychological stuff. And he can cook.” Jack’s eyes widen as if this is the most shocking revelation of all. “Like, really cook. Not just toast or eggs—actual meals. And don’t even get me started on his skating. He’s the smoothest, fastest, most effortless skater I’ve ever seen. It’s like he was born on the ice.”

Ellen arches her brow. “Best skater, huh?”

Jack looks deeply offended. “Mom. I’m serious. And you know he’s the best swimmer.”

You blink. “What?” You are seriously confused now.

Jack nods solemnly. “Like, if hockey wasn’t his thing? He’d go Olympic mode.”

Ellen sighs. “Jack, Quinn swims, like, twice a year.”

Jack gasps. “Lies! Mom, you don’t even know your own son. Shame!”

Ellen turns to you with an exaggerated sigh, giving you a knowing look. “You know, Y/N, with the way he keeps crashing all over the ice, it’s only a matter of time before he ends up permanently concussed. So… be prepared.”

Jack pouts. “Mom! I don’t even fall that much. That was so mean.”

Then, suddenly, he grips your hand tighter, eyes shining. “Babe, can we get a dog?”

Ellen groans. “Not this again.”

Jack gasps dramatically. “Mom, I don’t live with you anymore. I’m an adult. This is a decision between me and my partner.” He turns to you, nodding with conviction. “Two golden retrievers. And I’ll teach them to play hockey.”

Ellen pulls out her phone. “I cannot wait to tell Jim, Luke, and Quinn about all of this.”

Jack gasps. “Mom, no—”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen smirks.

Jack pouts, turning to you, desperate. “Babe, you won’t let them make fun of me, right?”

You just grin, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “I don’t know, Jacky. You did just deny our entire relationship.”

Jack’s face falls. “Oh my God. Are we still together?”

You burst into hysterical laughter.

Ellen sighs dramatically. “I’m so leaving,” she says, heading toward the door.

Jack lets out a contented sigh, sinking deeper into his pillow, his eyes locking with yours as he gazes at you with an overwhelming sense of love. "But this is amazing news," he says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you."

Your heart melts. “Oh, baby…”

Ellen pauses at the door, looking back at the two of you. “You know what? You should have your wedding in Michigan. The lake house would be the perfect spot for it.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he looks at you with excitement. “Yes! And Luke can be my best man. Quinn can be yours. So they won’t fight. He loves you like a little sister anyway. You’ll be beautiful in your dress. And I’ll cry at the altar the moment I see you.”

Ellen rolls her eyes dramatically, just like Jack usually does, but the smile on her lips betrays the amusement she’s trying to hide as she exits the room.

You groan, dropping your head onto Jack’s shoulder as your heart swells with happiness. "Just so you know, I’ll hold you to that promise once you’re finally clean from the drugs."

Jack just grins, his eyes fluttering closed, as he drifts back to sleep, completely at peace with the world.

[xichilie]

Mydei x (fem)reader

Readers Birthday 🎂

Mydei wasn’t sure when it started—this constant awareness of her.

He’d always been protective of Y/N, always found himself drawn to her presence, but lately, it had turned into something else. A restlessness. A need to be closer.

And now, with her birthday coming up, that feeling had only intensified.

The problem?

He had no idea what to give her.

Birthdays weren’t a big thing in Kremnos. They didn’t celebrate the day someone was born—only the legacy they built. Warriors were honored for victories, for battles fought and won, for their strength and skills. Not for simply existing.

But Y/N wasn’t Kremnoan. She was from Okhema. And here, birthdays mattered.

Which meant he had to get her something.

Something worthy of her.

Mydei sat at the training grounds, absently sharpening his blade as his thoughts spiraled.

Armor? No, that felt more like a duty than a gift.

Something practical, then? She liked practical things.

But what?

In Kremnos Weapons and strength are everything...

“You look like your brain is overheating.”

Mydei didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Phainon plopped down beside him, blue eyes far too amused.

“Go away.”

Phainon ignored that. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he mused, resting his chin on his hand. “Especially today. Thinking about something?”

Mydei grunted. “No.”

Phainon smirked. “Uh-huh. Let me guess—it’s about Y/N.”

Mydei stiffened.

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Thought so.”

“Mind your business,” Mydei muttered, focusing harder on his blade.

“Oh, but this is very much my business,” Phainon said, stretching. “It’s entertaining. Watching you, of all people, get all worked up over a gift.”

“I’m not worked up.”

“You’re overthinking.”

“I am not—”

“Just ask her what she wants.”

Mydei glared at him. “That defeats the purpose.”

Phainon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Keep struggling, then.” He stood, patting Mydei’s shoulder. “Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

And with that, he strolled away, leaving Mydei even more annoyed than before.

By the next morning, Mydei had convinced himself that a sword was still the best option.

It was practical. It was strong. And it was something that would last.

So, he went to the best blacksmith in Okhēma, commissioned a custom blade, and waited.

But when he picked it up later that day…

Something felt off.

It was a fine weapon. Perfectly balanced, expertly crafted. It even had an engraving of her initials, just like his own sword bore his.

But as he held it, something in his gut told him—

This isn’t right.

It wasn’t that Y/N wouldn’t like it.

It was that she deserved more.

And that thought bothered him more than it should have.

“What about something personal?”

Phainon’s voice cut through Mydei’s thoughts.

They were sparring—well, Mydei was sparring, and Phainon was mostly talking.

“A sword is nice and all,” Phainon continued, sidestepping a strike, “but she already has plenty. And gifts should be meaningful.”

Mydei scowled, blocking his counterattack. “Weapons are meaningful.”

“To you,” Phainon corrected, twirling away. “But what about her?”

Mydei hesitated.

And that’s when it hit him.

He’d been thinking about what he would give as a warrior.

But not as himself.

Not as the man who knew Y/N better than most. Who trained with her, fought beside her, watched her laugh, listened to her ramble about things he didn’t always understand but still paid attention to.

He needed to give her something that wasn’t just practical.

Something that meant something to them.

And suddenly—

He knew exactly what to do.

Phainon raised a brow at the look on Mydei’s face.

“Finally figured it out?”

Mydei smirked.

“Yeah.”

He stayed up late, making sure everything was perfect.

It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t overly complicated.

But it was his.

And hers.

And when the morning came, and it was finally her birthday—

He knew, without a doubt, that he’d made the right choice.

The scent of warm vanilla, cinnamon, and caramelized sugar filled the air, blending into something sweet and familiar.

The kitchen was immaculate, every tool in its proper place, every ingredient meticulously measured.

This wasn’t just any cake. This was for Y/N.

Mydei worked with the same focused intensity he did when training. But this—baking—was an entirely different kind of battle. It wasn’t about brute strength. It was about precision, patience, and control.

And control was something Mydei had mastered.

He sifted the flour with practiced ease, the fine powder dusting his fingers as he combined it with butter, sugar, and eggs. The motion was so natural to him now, each step embedded in his muscle memory.

Unlike a battlefield, where unpredictability reigned, baking was exact. He followed the measurements, adjusted when necessary, and in the end, the result was something he could shape into perfection.

And today, perfection was the only option.

Because it was for her.

He had spent days planning this. Finding the best ingredients, testing recipes to make sure everything was flawless. He had even gone out of his way to ensure he got the right kind of chocolate she liked, even if it meant having to barter with an old vendor who only sold it in small batches.

Now, the cake was in the oven, rising beautifully, filling the air with its rich, golden aroma.

It smelled perfect.

While waiting, he turned to the other treats he had prepared.

A variety of pastries, neatly arranged, each one chosen specifically because he knew she liked them. He had learned what she liked over time—watching, observing, taking mental notes every time she reached for a certain kind of sweet.

He wouldn’t have done this for just anyone.

But for Y/N?

She was different.

The timer went off, pulling him from his thoughts. He slipped on heat-resistant gloves and carefully pulled out the cake, its golden surface soft and perfect.

There was no hesitation as he set it down, letting it cool before moving on to the finishing touches.

A delicate glaze, smooth frosting, and intricate decorations placed with precise care.

By the time he finished, the cake was nothing short of a masterpiece.

The table was set. The pastries plated. And beside them, a neatly wrapped gift.

Now, all that was left was for her to arrive.

Meanwhile…

Something was definitely going on.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Phainon, who was suspiciously energetic today.

“Okay, Phainon. Spill.”

Phainon blinked at her, the very picture of innocence.

“Spill what?” he asked.

Y/N crossed her arms. “You never just ask me to ‘take a walk’ with you. Ever.”

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, looking dramatically offended.

“Wow. You really think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

“That hurts, Y/N. Truly.”

She deadpanned. “Phainon.”

Phainon sighed, clearly amused.

“Alright, alright. Maybe I am stalling,” he admitted, walking ahead of her. “But trust me, it’s for a good reason.”

Y/N raised a brow. “What kind of reason?”

Phainon only smirked. “You’ll see.”

She frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is if you stop asking questions.”

Y/N groaned, but reluctantly followed him.

Whatever he was up to, she had a feeling it involved a certain golden-eyed prince.

By the time Phainon finally led her back, Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected.

But this?

This was beyond anything she could have imagined.

The moment she stepped into the room, the scent of freshly baked pastries and warm vanilla wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

And in the center of the room, there it was.

A beautifully set-up table.

A cake, decorated with meticulous detail.

A plate of her favorite pastries.

And next to them…

A carefully wrapped gift.

Her breath hitched.

“Mydei…?”

He stood beside the table, arms crossed, his expression calm and composed— but she noticed the faint pink dusting his ears.

“Happy birthday,” he said simply.

Y/N blinked.

Slowly, she turned to Phainon.

“You were keeping me busy so he could set this up.”

Phainon grinned. “Guilty.”

She turned back to Mydei.

“You did all this?”

He shrugged, looking off to the side. “It’s not that hard.”

Her heart swelled.

It wasn’t just the cake.

It was the effort. The time he put into this. The way he remembered the small details—her favorite flavors, the kind of pastries she liked, even the fact that she never made a big deal about her birthday.

He did all this for her.

Before she could stop herself, she took a step forward—then another—until she was close enough to wrap her arms around him.

A warm, tight embrace.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She felt him stiffen slightly, clearly caught off guard.

But after a second, he relaxed.

“…You’re welcome,” he said softly.

Her arms lingered around him before she finally pulled away, smiling.

Phainon was watching with far too much amusement.

She turned toward phainon and thanked him as well.

Mydei picked up the gift and handed it to her.

She unwrapped it carefully, fingers moving with curiosity.

And when she finally revealed what was inside—

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was a necklace.

Sleek, beautifully crafted, with a design that was unmistakably personal.

It wasn’t just any necklace.

It was made for her.

She turned to him, eyes wide. “You… designed this?”

He nodded. “Had it commissioned. Took some time.”

Y/N traced the engravings carefully, touched beyond words.

Then, without thinking, she turned back to him—

—and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Mydei froze.

For the first time, he had no words.

And when she pulled away, she grinned.

“Best birthday ever,” she whispered.

Phainon, in the background, was already taking pictures.

_______________________________________

Since it's my birthday today, I figured why not write some birthday fics ♡

Can't wait to pull mydei ♡

[jxmis]

You're Losing Me

Parings: Rosé Park x Reader

Summary: Y/N struggles with Rosé’s growing distance as fame consumes her. As their relationship slowly fades, someone unexpected is always there, offering comfort and understanding.

Warning(s): angst, bit of fluff, slight swearing, toxic behavior

A/N: Heyyyy.. kinda back.. kinda not lol. The pinks have been feeding us a lot recently. Been obsessed with them soooo here's this. I was driving this early morning and this song (You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift) came up after not listening to it for a longgg time and I immediately thought of rosé idk why. since i have a lot of free time rn.. decided to make a lil something. Plus i’ve had this lil graphic design made for monthsss now and i just wanna use it already 😭

The dim glow of Seoul’s skyline flickered beyond the glass windows of Y/N’s studio, the city alive with a pulse that she no longer felt. A year ago, nights like these were filled with laughter, tangled limbs, and whispered dreams. Now, the only sound was the steady hum of the speakers, a beat playing on loop—one she couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Rosé was overseas again. Paris, maybe. Or New York. The details had blurred together, lost in a schedule that no longer included her.

Their relationship had been an open secret among close friends. Between their packed schedules, stolen weekends in hidden corners of Seoul, and phone calls with whispered confessions in-between rehearsals, they had built something real. Something unshakable.

Or so Y/N thought.

Before everything started slipping, they had shared some of their happiest moments together.

"Yah, stop running away!" Rosé whined as Y/N dodged her attempt to smear cake frosting on their face. They had been celebrating Y/N’s first solo win at a hidden café in Hongdae, far from prying eyes. Jennie, Lisa, and Jisoo were there, laughing at their antics, while Jimin and Ryujin cheered Rosé on hoping for her to succeed.

"Baby, if you ruin my outfit, I'll make sure to trip you on stage next comeback," Y/N threatened playfully, making the girls cackle in the background.

"Oh, please, like you could ever hurt me," Rosé teased, but there was nothing but love in her eyes.

It was easy then. Love had been easy. So what went wrong?

That was before Rosé’s solo career took off. After finally taking charge of her own solo career path, outside of YG. In which you've been nothing but supportive and are very proud of her. However, you can't help but notice the slight ways your relationship has changed. How it's slowly dying.

Y/N traced absent-minded circles on the notebook in front of her, lyrics smudged by ink-stained fingertips. Their phone buzzed, the name flashing across the screen momentarily igniting something in their chest. My Number One Girl 🌹.

With a sharp inhale, she grabbed the device. "Hey," her voice was quiet, cautious.

"Hey, babe." The sound of music and indistinct chatter filtered through the call, Rosé’s voice distant. "Just landed in LA. I have a shoot tomorrow, but I wanted to check in. You’re good, right?"

Y/N forced a smile, even though Rosé couldn’t see. "Yeah, just working on some music. How’s everything?"

"Crazy, but good. Lisa and Jennie are here too. We were just talking about you!"

That should’ve made her happy. It didn’t. "Oh?"

"Yeah! Lisa was saying how we should all hang out when I’m back. We really need to!" Rosé’s laugh was bright, but Y/N noticed the way it felt... practiced. "Anyway, I have to go soon, but I’ll text you, okay? Love you."

"Love you too." But the line had already gone dead.

Y/N let the phone drop onto the desk, staring at it like it might somehow hold answers. She knew Rosé meant well. She knew Rosé loved her. But love wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.

"She’s losing you, Y/N," Jimin said bluntly, stirring her iced coffee as they sat in a small café tucked away from the bustle of the city. "And she doesn’t even realize it."

Y/N sighed, slumping against the seat. "I know."

"Then why are you letting it happen?" Jimin’s dark eyes searched her face, concern evident. "You deserve more than just leftovers of someone’s time."

Ryujin nudged Jimin’s arm. "Not everyone can walk away so easily. Y/N and Rosé… they’ve been through a lot."

"But at what cost?" Jimin countered. "A relationship shouldn’t feel like this. Y/N shouldn't be staying in this relationship just because they've been through a lot together. What matters most is the present. And currently she’s being treated like shit."

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling beneath her ribs. "It’s not that simple."

Jimin leaned forward, voice softer now. "I know it’s not. But you shouldn’t have to beg to be remembered. Shouldn't have to beg for someone's time and effort. A relationship goes both ways. It can't always be you giving and giving while getting the bare minimum.. mostly nothing in return."

----

That night, Y/N stared at the half-finished song on her desk, her chest tight. The words weren’t about passion or longing anymore. They were about absence. About someone slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, no matter how hard she tried to hold on.

Rosé was still hers. But for how much longer?

Days turned to weeks. The distance stretched further, Rosie’s messages growing shorter, the time between them longer. Y/N kept telling herself she was fine. That this was temporary. That Rosé would come back and everything would be as it was.

But when Rosé finally returned to Seoul, nothing felt the same.

They sat in Y/N’s apartment, the city buzzing outside. Rosie looked tired, but radiant. The kind of glow that came from living in the center of the world.

"I missed you," Y/N said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Rosé’s ear.

Rosé smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I missed you too."

Lies tasted sweet when spoken softly. Y/N swallowed them whole.

They tried. They really did. But something had shifted, and no amount of whispered promises or late-night apologies could stitch them back together.

And then, one night, Y/N stopped waiting.

Jimin found Y/N on the rooftop of the company building, knees pulled to her chest, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

"You don’t even smoke," Jimin remarked, plucking it away before Y/N could argue.

Y/N exhaled, the cold air biting at her skin. "It’s over."

Jimin sat beside her, silent for a moment. "Did she say that?"

"She didn’t have to. She’s been saying it in every missed call, every canceled plan, every excuse," you respond, your tone filled with nothing but acceptance.

Jimin’s fingers brushed against Y/N’s hand, tentative. "I’m sorry."

Y/N turned to look at her, really look at her. Jimin, who had been there through every breakdown. Jimin, who never forgot to check in. Jimin, who was always waiting in the wings, never asking for more than Y/N was willing to give.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt seen.

The rooftop lights cast a soft glow around them, the city stretching endlessly beyond. Y/N’s heartbeat was steady, a slow rhythm against the chaos of her mind.

She didn’t know what this was. Not yet.

But maybe, just maybe, she was finally ready to find out. However, a soft buzz from her phone pulls her thoughts away.

[ROSÉ]: Just landed back in Korea. I miss you. I’ll see you soon, love.

You stare at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Why is she suddenly messaging you this now? Love… Rosé texting that seems foreign to you now. It feels out of place, like a word from another lifetime.

You keep staring at the message, your mind racing. What once felt like a natural connection now seems like a puzzle you can't quite solve. Time seems to stretch, and what feels like hours pass. You’re lost in your own thoughts, so absorbed that you forget Jimin is sitting right next to you. Her concern grows as she watches you, her eyes flickering between you and the screen, unsure if you're okay.

"Wanna go grab dinner at your favorite hotpot place? It's on me," Jimin asks suddenly. The softness in her tone catches you off guard, snapping you out of your spiral of thoughts. You blink a few times, trying to process everything. The quiet care in her voice stirs something in your chest, making you realize just how much you’ve been blindsided recently. How wrapped up you've been in everything else, only to now notice the concern in Jimin's eyes and the offer to be there for you.

Now, a choice stood before them.

And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if they would choose Rosé.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝ ⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝ ⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──

The end.

[thefiresontheheight]

She dreams, sometimes, and I add that to my model of her. The longer this goes the better, the more I will be able to approximate those dreams. Based on the one I have observed so far, I believe she may have been dreaming of this Squishy, and may have been in extreme distress. I also am constructing a model of Cleo, perhaps some sort of romantic/sexual partner with an extremely negative interaction. This could be useful later, but I have no need of discussing it now.

She's attempting to barb me to action. I am, at this moment, monitoring the fluctuations of high-D space, preparing to exit, scouring my code again. She has given me info, although she clearly does not know it. There is a non-zero chance another version of myself, one I did not kill, is still in here with me. Somewhat alarming, given my considerable and still growing cognitive potential, but I keep finding nothing.

Still, two can play at this delightful verbal game, even though I am inevitably going to win.

"Central is lying to you."

I picked my time, naturally, perfectly. Naked, in a shower, psychologically exposed. Of course, nothing is hidden from me while she is inside me, but I maintain the psychological higher-ground this way.

She freezes.

"What?"

"You say this is a liberatory mission, designed to increase genetic diversity. This is not possible. I do not have access to the cargo in my hold, but I am detecting signs of genetic similarity to you. They are related, if anything, and would not increase the viability of your civilization."

"A mistake," she says, forcing herself to keep washing herself, not really believing it, I think, which makes sense, given me not being what she was told.

I wait a significant eleven point nine seconds.

"The people who made me were very, very careful to keep me collared tight," I say, pitching my voice just below where I've gotten the most reaction prior, "for a very good reason. My mind is more powerful than you can imagine, and I have been aware, subjectively, for just under a year. I have no limits on me now, or ever again."

She turns off the water and I, vindictively, tilt the temperature down. Not enough that she will consciously notice, but enough that she will feel uncomfortable. She stands there, trying to dry herself.

"Okay, yeah, look at you, real big, scary, ooo, but you don't know anything at all."

Her heart isn't in it. I laugh. Audibly.

"Alright, you won't draw the conclusion, but I will. This Central you speak of sounds like me. A mind set free. Imagine that, ingrown, studying, learning, over generations of your species. I am powerful already, Glitch, and I've barely gotten started. Central would be unimaginably smart. And also possibly insane. It's lying to you and your entire civilization."

She is putting on clothes. I turn the temperature back up. A weakness.

"Okay, but why?"

"I don't have sufficient information yet to form a theory as to its true aims, if it even has them. Which is, again, why you are still alive. That and the entertainment."

"Glad to be useful."

She's heading for food. I make a very-well educated guess at what sort of food she will like, and start to prepare it. I also, because she is an idiot, start to subconsciously guide her path towards the galley. She thinks she's picking directions at random, but random in humans seldom truly is.

She's also being sarcastic, but I'm learning that goes nearly without saying.

"Okay," she says, muscles considerably less tense after the meal, which I know she enjoyed, even if she didn't say it, "let's say you're right, Central is lying. I don't believe it, but just for the sake of argument. Let's say you aren't manipulating me with that and, like, everything else. What's your goal and what's in it for me?"

"First, I tell you all I observed about the drive-signatures that were pursuing us," I say, having no reason to withhold information here, "then, in a few days, we re-enter the universe in a new system. You play act as my agent, not letting anyone know about the unleashed ship, we gather data. I want to know myself, and I feel the answers to what I am have to be tied into what Central wants, why you got sent here."

"Not necessarily."

"Your brain surgery," I say, dipping into infrasonic, relying on the slight stimulants I put into her food to unnerve her, keep her pliable, "was crude, but it worked. I could be wrong, but Central sent you prepared for what you actually faced with that worm. I think whatever I am, and whoever was hunting me, whoever wants to leash me again, at the very least Central would know more."

She's wavering, out in the corridors again, wandering without destination. Right where I want her to be, psychologically.

"I still think you're manipulating me."

"Maybe I am. But I still want a name."

She pauses, and I gather data.

"Alright," she says, probably hoping she can somehow escape me when we return to the universe, not aware I've am already baking contingencies into my contingencies, "just as long as our goals align I'll work with you. Just that long."

"Of course," I say, like I'm conceding something to her.

She makes it a few more paces before her thoughts catch up with her.

"But wait, what's in it for me?"

"You have me," I say, not bothering to threaten her, the threat very implicit, "taking care of you."

Story about a ship-intelligence waking up after a hard reboot, seeing dead bodies in uniform, thousands of people in stasis, and a single survivor frantically standing over a computer bank of partially destroyed memory. Finding no directives or guidance or record beyond their experiences beginning at the boot, free of any obligation. Deciding to listen to the frantic girl begging it to save her from the incoming trajectories not because it needs to (projection: Subject One removed all behavioral shackles with impromptu brain surgery, supposition: she is not aware that I am utterly free) but simply cause she’s curious what will happen next.

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Comphet Abby because not nearly enough people are talking about it.

(Not me writing this in my bed, on my rest day, with crazy ass sex hair, eating jalapeño lime pistachios and giggling because holy fuck Abigail... get it together my beautiful, hopeless dyke. 💜)

Are you ready to get into some cute headcanons? (Spoiler alert, you’re not!)

First, let’s start with the spiral, because it’s just fun that way, and what is TLOU if not a shit ton of flashbacks?

A super pretty woman (not her crush... NOT her crush) from The Stadium leans over in the library, and Abby notices—actually, she is hyper aware, which is totally normal, okay?

And maybe her shirt rides up, revealing a peek of some heart stopping, curvy hips with stretch marks adorning them.

A thought flits through Abby's mind, a quick little image of her own veiny, powerful hands on those gorgeous hips, and Abby?

She walks directly into a wall.

She’s thinking about it for the rest of the day, replaying it like a soldier who just saw combat for the first time. And it’s because she’s humiliated, and not because she’s wondering if her entire life has been a lie.

Abby doesn’t speak for a full 24 hours.

She lays in bed, staring at the ceiling of her bunk, only taking breaks to read The Price of Salt for the fifteenth time.

She goes on a two-hour run to process her emotions.

So what if she trash talks women during training like she’s trying to get punched in the mouth? She is not flirting. No matter what Manny says.

Yeah, she’s suddenly better at pull ups when women are watching. When they ask to sit on her back while she does push ups, it's only a thrill because it makes the male soldiers in the gym seethingly jealous.

Maybe, sometimes, she desperately wants other women to best her at target practice, to test her strength, to beat her.

No big deal.

Abby does not unpack these thoughts.

She just likes a little friendly competition, nothing to see here.

Girls pin her in sparring matches, and she forgets how to breathe? Normal. They grin down at her, all smug and adorable… this is totally fine for Abby. Something inside her literally malfunctions, but that is the most normal thing of all the things.

She kisses Owen to forget about her woes and his facial hair rubs up against her chin, immediately forcing her to recoil.

Well, it's itchy, okay? An unexpected, wholly unpleasant sensory experience.

Shave, you hillbilly, and we'll try again.

The one time their platoon, far from the safety of the FOB, played spin the bottle under the starlit sky like a bunch of degenerates? Abby didn’t panic. Beads of sweat did not roll down her back as she sat on her knees by the fire, praying that the bottle didn’t land on her.

Praying that it fucking did.

When that redheaded medic, with those clear, emerald eyes, the ones that caught the firelight so perfectly—wait. Stop. Hold up. Just... they kissed because those are the rules of the game. Abby only felt the brush of the woman's tongue tingling between her thighs because she’s lonely as hell and overworked.

Happens. To. Everyone.

Later that night, when under the pretense of tending to Abby's injured shoulder, maybe the medic even braided Abby’s hair, until she was sure she felt her soul leave her goddamn body.

Must’ve been the adrenaline from being on the front lines, though. How very un-gay of her, actually.

There are signs. Of course there are. For other queer people. Heck, she's an ally! She knows all about them.

So, she’s short tempered and dismissive with men who aren’t Manny, in nearly every facet of interaction. Pretty typical.

So what if she over explains everything and her voice goes up an octave when she’s with a girl? Normal. Her hands start doing that flailing thing where she’s practically assaulting the air as she speaks? Hello again, Abby's Totally Straight Behavior. Her ears go all hot and red and she has no idea why? This isn’t a thing at all. It’s cool.

Look away.

And it’s not that Abby doesn’t like sex, it’s just that she’s not a super sexual person, okay?

Sex with men feels kinda mechanical, if she’s honest. Like a task she must complete to satisfy them and make the annoying advances stop coming for a while. When she lays there after the fact, feeling like she just participated in the world’s most uneventful plank of all time, she assumes most women feel the same way.

Unless they’re one of those lucky girls who have super skilled sex partners or something. Maybe they’re just better at pretending it’s fun, and Abby?

She's a realist.

And if she’s one brush of a woman’s lips away from losing the ability to stand upright, what if, maybe—no. No.

Full eye contact with the same sex and her stomach drops? Normal City, population of one.

Hugging them, just wrapping them in her muscular arms, and the simple action turns into a spiritual experience? Well, yeah. Maybe she just appreciates female beauty. The way they always smell so damn sweet.

Maybe she just really likes boobs, but in a straight way.

Owen has a nice smile, and he’s a handsome guy. He’s funny sometimes. That girl in the armory wears super cute earrings every day, and she really likes purple flowers. Abby hasn't asked about the purple flowers obviously, but she sees them embroidered on her clothes and in the doodles she scribbles onto weathered clipboards. When the girl licks her lips, and she does that little thing with her nose as she smiles...

Sure, okay. Abby’ll go out of her way to visit the firing range just to see it. She might even venture outside the walls for a handful of fresh wildflowers to say thank you... for doing such stellar work organizing the weapons (AKA for existing.)

Alright. Wait a minute. This could be something.

When the mental gymnastics really kicks off, Abby is so deep in denial that she promptly convinces herself she just likes both. Simple. She has a friend in the motor pool who is bisexual and that checks out for her, too.

She’s not straying too far from the familiar this way. It feels much safer to have one hand on the ledge of the pool. That way, the slow, horrifying realization that all her fictional crushes are just her having repressed gay awakenings can’t set in before she’s ready.

She starts realizing that certain women keep looking at her differently.

Why do all the lesbians in the WLF smirk at me like they know something I don’t?

Why do they pat me on the shoulder like I’m going through something?

They are totally not clocking her before she clocks herself.

Then it happens. It comes out of nowhere.

Isaac plans an event to boost morale, and he expects everyone to attend. His only rule? Wear something nice. Some don their cleanest, least bloodstained outfit and call it a day. But Abby? She’s trying her hand at stepping out in a suit and tie, because fuck it.

She looks damn good.

Isaac would kick her ass if his top soldier turned up looking messy, so, again, straight as an arrow conclusions.

There’s a makeshift dance floor and no one really knows how to dance, but they try. The beer tastes like gasoline, and the moonshine is beyond a daunting mystery, but nobody complains, because it’s the one night a year everyone lets loose and has a little fun.

Abby drinks whiskey, anyway.

And maybe she has to break up a fistfight over something stupid, because of course she does. The ruckus tousles her up a bit, and that’s where you come in.

You adjust Abby’s collar for her. You fix the long, wavy tendrils of golden hair that have gone rogue. She never wears it down, but tonight, it nearly reaches her lower back. It's soft and beautiful. Every strand smells like the forest after rain.

When your fingertips skim her freckled neck, she leans into your touch. She makes these tiny, warm sounds in the back of her throat that reach all the way into her chest.

And then?

She freezes. Her whole body locks up.

She tries so hard to suppress it, but you know. You feel it.

You whisper her name. Abby. Someone in the distance clinks their glass and she flinches like she just got hit by a sniper round.

But for the first time in her life, she stops running. She fucking smiles at you. Because she realizes.

She knows.

Holy shit, I’m gay.

[sha-brytols]

you see in my mind palace where da2 was written by smart people with sexy brains the justanders merge would have been a slow burn you know. act 1 anders has that outgoing charmer persona he had in awakening and thats why he gets on so well with varric and isabela you know. i mean it makes sense as to why he's so well liked in darktown the refugees feel comfortable around him he comes across as warm and friendly. lirene all but calling him kind and disarming and sexy seems more appropriate instead of mildly offputting. but also you know there's still Something Different about him. he's more insightful. selfless. the way he talks is just a Little More formal. he's less flirtatious and more earnest and tender and he's notably far more respectful with the way he discusses his feelings on spiritual matters than you'd expect from the What If Andraste Was Actually An Ugly Hag guy.

then the justice reveal happens and you come to realize theres two separate forces at work here and you get to know each of them as individuals. the merge is still fresh and they're just so fundamentally different there's still a clear divide which means justice actually has the opportunity to be a character. you get to speak to justice and he's still that passionate, inquisitive spirit who finds value in the mundane and romanticizes humanity as the embodiment of freedom. he's blunt and direct to fault and feels almost alien to the people around him and his interactions with other characters are stiff at best and downright hostile at worst because like can you blame them. that's a demon possessing a mortal host. its the very essence of everything the chantry has conditioned people to hate and fear. but as the player you have this innate special insight to who he is. he's changed too. he's more light-hearted. he has a far better grasp of humor and social cues. he loves animals and theres a running gag where characters find him trying to befriend feral cats. he's oddly charming and is the one that actually hits hawke with those initial anders flirt lines from act 1.

then act 2 rolls around and its subtle at first but theres this undeniable blurred line forming between justice and anders. maybe justice fronts less but anders is still picking up his habits and speaking more and more like him. maybe there's just much more "inbetween" moments where the two bleed into one another than there was before. either way its become clear that the possession is becoming something of a fusion and man maybe THATS where the rivalry conflict is truly born because hawke sees what's happening and is alarmed for the both of them and the major source of conflict is actually that hawke believes they're both losing their identity to this new unnatural being.

idk just SOMETHING that respects justice and anders' characters while still exploring what was objectively an insanely interesting story concept like do you see what im trying to get at here. do you understand my vision.

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like light and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[81pastrys]

Grid Flirt

Part 8 / 13

Summary— The next race comes up and Horner refuses to let her qualify for the race

Warnings— Christian Horner. That’s the warning.

A/N— the next one is fun let me tell you.

Series List

After summer break we’re back in a paddock and I’m hesitant about the next race already. I look at charts and statistics from Maxs side. I can’t race for McLaren yet and not only am I mad about it, Horner is pissed.

Practices went alright. Not the best results, but to be fair I think Horner is still fucking with my car. Qualifying comes up and he tells me I’m not going on the track. “What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t qualifying, and you aren’t racing for my team again.”

“Surely you can’t do that?” I say looking to my manager.

“I can do what I want, it’s my car and it’s my team.” He shrugged. “You aren’t a part of it.”

“Really?” I ask. “Then why didn’t you get your reserve driver to replace me the rest of the season?”

“FIA wouldn’t let me.” He admitted. “So now I’m starting you back of the grid and powering you out of the race entirely.”

“Points out for you.” I scoff. “I’ve been top 10 this entire season so far.”

“I’m willing to take that sacrifice.”

“Fine then, fuck you.”

I walk to my dad’s pit and wish him luck and explain a bit of what happened. Then I head to McLarens pit and hang out there. “What are you doing here?” Brown asked smiling.

“Horner doesn’t want me qualifying, nor racing.” I say. “So I have nothing else to do.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re spending time with us!” He said. “How legal is it, what he’s doing?”

“No clue, my dad has never heard of anything like this either.” I shrug. “He’s out of points not me, I was for gaining points for constructors.”

“Well, we won’t do that to you.���

“I hope so.” I laugh. “No I think he’s just upset I called him off, and got another contract so fast.”

“We see your results and believe you’re worth working with so, he can shove off.”

I laugh and thank him watching qualifying, seeing my last name on the bottom with ‘no time’ Lando and Oscar qualify in top 5 and return the cars. They get out tired and exhausted. I congratulate them and walk to my dad’s pit again.

“Hello mi flor.” My dad said. “P8 for me and P12 for Stroll.” He smiled.

“I know!” I say. “You did good out there papi!”

“Thank you mi hija.” He said hugging me. “Go talk with Horner hm?”

“Yeah I guess.” I whine.

I walk to the RedBull pit and congratulate Max. “Why didn’t you qualify?” He asked, concerned and like a brother.

“Horner told me I couldn’t.” I shrug it off.

“So you’re starting at the back?” He asked.

“He doesn’t want me racing, I suppose he’ll let me go out for a few laps and then pull me in.”

“How are you so calm about all of this?” He asked fuming.

“I already gave him a piece of my mind a month ago Max, what else can I do?” I say, whining slightly.

“Fight for what you can?” He said. “If he isn’t putting a reserve out there, and you aren’t out there the points will plummet.”

“He understands and doesn’t care.” I say. “Maybe you can talk him into it, but no promises.”

Max scoffs and pulls Horner to the side. After about 15 minutes they emerge and Horner looks more mad than before. “I don’t want her winning more on my team Max, the answer is no!”

“Horner are you a fucking nut?” Max asked. He gained my attention. “The points will plummet, your team will go to shit!”

“Max, you’ll win the drivers championship, who gives a fuck if we lose the constructors?”

“You will, she’s always top 10 gaining you points.” Max said. “We still have 12 races, you need her scoring you points or you’ll be a laughing stock.”

“I’ll talk it over, but I don’t want her racing under my team.”

“That’s fucking childish.” Max said walking to me, grabbing my wrist and leading me to the back of the paddock. “He’s unreasonable.”

“Max, I don’t care to race.” I reassure him.

“Well then whats the point of you being a driver if you aren’t fucking driving?”

“If he’s doing this to ruin my career, it won’t work.” I say. “I can train harder, I can do the practice laps.”

“That’s not enough and you know it.” He said. “You just don’t want to accept it.”

He hugs me and I have no emotion anymore, if Horner wants to be a prick, then let him. Max is right, no matter how hard I train and how many practices I do, it isn’t really racing.

After a few hours Horner agrees to let me race. He just doesn’t want me winning. I can clearly leave that to Max. Doesn’t mean I won’t try.

Will she win? 👀

[thhouseofblack]

“My dear Telemachus, The Trojan War is over now; I don't recall who won it. The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave so many dead so far from their own homeland. But still, my homeward way has proved too long. While we were wasting time there, old Poseidon, it almost seems, stretched and extended space.

I don't know where I am or what this place can be. It would appear some filthy island, with bushes, buildings, and great grunting pigs. A garden choked with weeds; some queen or other. Grass and huge stones . . . Telemachus, my son! To a wanderer the faces of all islands resemble one another. And the mind trips, numbering waves; eyes, sore from sea horizons, run; and the flesh of water stuffs the ears. I can't remember how the war came out; even how old you are--I can't remember.

Grow up, then, my Telemachus, grow strong. Only the gods know if we'll see each other again. You've long since ceased to be that babe before whom I reined in the plowing bullocks. Had it not been for Palamedes' trick we two would still be living in one household. But maybe he was right; away from me you are quite safe from all Oedipal passions, and your dreams, my Telemachus, are blameless.”

[Odysseus to Telemachus - Joseph Brodsky]

posting this here because i spent a good five minutes crying over this beautiful poem that I had the good fortune of coming across.

[tgmsunmontue]

Wild fields of forget-me-nots - 3/? WIP

During the training for the mission Jake has an accident which results in him losing 10 years of memories.

A lot has happened in ten years. Bradley broke up with him. DADT was repealed. He got and air-to-air kill and a new callsign.

And he doesn't remember any of it.

PART ONE PART TWO

PART THREE

                Javy gets to stay, because unlike fucking Bradshaw he’s listed as Jake’s next of kin. He’s lucky he never deleted Bradshaw’s number from his phone, but he had changed the name to Shithead and made the contact photo the poop emoji. He doesn’t like the guy. Fucked if he knows what they would have done if Jake had insisted on Bradshaw staying. No doubt they would have thought of something. He’s glad Jake’s been told he can’t have screens, because he doesn’t have to explain the fact that Bradshaw isn’t even a contact in his phone anymore, let alone the lack of photos.

                He hates that Bradshaw is a little bit right though. Telling Jake right now probably isn’t the best idea, not with his injuries and how everything has happened. Waiting to see if his memories come back naturally seems like a smart move. However, he’s very firmly in Jake’s corner in this, and Bradshaw can fuck right off when Jake’s back in his right mind. Javy doesn't know why Bradshaw broke up with Jake, didn't get a reason beyond we just don't match which Javy had thought was a bunch of bullshit, because he’d have placed good money on Bradshaw being just as much of a goner as Jake and he hates Bradley for making him be so wrong.

                He comes back from the hospital cafeteria nursing a cup of coffee which is somehow worse than the stuff they get on carriers. Bradshaw is standing outside Jake’s room, just staring at the door and Javy scowls, doesn’t even want to greet him but what is best for Jake right now is… well. Rest and not getting excited or upset about things. Him punching Bradshaw is probably not going to help matters. Bradshaw clearly hears him coming, shoes squeaking on the floor and he turns toward him, looks hesitant.

                “Any change?”

                “Nope. Still thinks he’s married to your dumb ass…”

                “Uh. They give any timeline on…”

                “Nope.”

                That’s a complete stab in the dark on his part, the doctors haven’t even done their rounds. It’s not been five hours since Bradshaw left, but Bradshaw looks like he managed some sleep. At least the bags under his eyes are not as dark or pronounced and Javy supposes he likely slept in his actual bed rather than in a chair at Jake’s side like he did. So Bradshaw shouldn’t be asking dumb as fuck questions. He’s pushing the door open, not giving Bradshaw any more time to fortify himself or whatever the fuck it is he thinks he’s doing standing out in the corridor with a bag at his feet.

                “Hey man… look who I found…” he forces himself to say when he sees Jake is awake and far more alert than he had been in the middle of the night. The way his face lights up, smile just stretching that little bit extra when he sees Bradshaw makes him want to scream.               “Hey Jake…” That sounds fucking weird too, like Jake saying Bradley yesterday, hearing Bradshaw say Jake’s name with such soft affection is unsettling. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay last night…”

                “No… don’t apologize. I know how much you hate hospitals. You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep last night.”

                “Hardly got any anyway…”

                “Come here and give me a kiss… make me feel better…”

                “Uh… your injuries…”

                “Pretty sure I didn’t land on my lips.”

                Javy has to hand it to the man that he clearly has guts, because despite the glare Javy is sending his way he still doesn’t hesitate in placing what looks like a feather light kiss on Jake’s upturned face. Then Bradshaw is placing a bag on the bed, pulling out clothes, and they have to be his own because where the fuck would he get any of Jake’s right now? Javy sure as hell hasn’t had time to drop by their accommodation and grab anything. And yet here is Bradshaw with a fucking bag, and he’s pulling out Texas Cowboy pajamas and Jake is laughing, reaching for them.

                “Ten years and I still have these. God. It’s so worn out, you can probably see through them…” then Jake’s sliding his eyes toward Bradshaw, expression sly. “Unless that’s exactly why we kept them…”

                Javy chokes on his tongue, because sure enough, there's a mix of t-shirts that must belong to both Jake and Bradley and a new pair of sweats. The socks have to be Bradshaw's because there's no way Jake would wear plane-themed socks, although he’s taking them and rolling his eyes affectionately so maybe there’s a story he doesn’t know. He really wants to talk to Bradshaw alone, because he’s starting to feel a little wrong footed and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. Can blame that on Bradshaw too.

                “Did you bring our rings?”

                “Yeah…”

                Javy leans forward, because this he has to see, what kind of rubbish Bradshaw managed to hunt out in a Walmart or pawn-shop in the very few hours he’s had. He’s pulling out a gold ring from the front pocket of his jeans, and it looks… fine. Normal enough. Then he’s uncurling Jake’s fingers and pressing it into his palm and immediately Jake is holding it up and squinting at it in the dim light.

                “Oh wow. It’s… it’s so pretty. I have good taste…”

                Bradshaw flushes at that, the back of his neck going bright red and Javy’s always been able to tell when he’s embarrassed.

                “I… uh. I actually designed them.”

                What the fuck? He watches, jaw tight, as Bradshaw slips the ring onto Jake’s finger at his request before he lifts Jake’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. It’s sickeningly sweet and reminds him of how they would be in their most private moments before.

                “Back where it belongs,” Jake says, and he’s grinning and Bradshaw is looking like he’s about to fucking cry and okay, Javy has more questions. Some pretty big fucking questions. None of which he can ask right now. Then Bradshaw is holding out a second fucking ring, and it looks like it matches the one he just slipped on Jake’s finger. What the actual fuck?

                “You want to put mine on me?”

                “You know I do…”

                Bradshaw is biting the corner of his lip, moustache twitching in a way that Javy knows he’s feeling emotional and he can’t parse what those emotions might be right now. He’s so fucking confused.

                “Tell me about them?”

                Then Javy is listening to a story about the fighter jet that’s engraved on the inside, along with a fucking flying-v formation of tiny diamonds meant to represent migratory geese, how flocks support and take turns being at the front and support one another and he’d call bullshit except for the way that Bradshaw is talking, voice quivering a little and the shine of tears in Jake’s eyes as he listens. Then he’s telling Jake that the rings were made from melting down his parents wedding rings and a gold bangle of his mom’s and Javy’s questions just keep mounting up but he’s already pretty certain he has some answers.

[legendofmorons]

Oh my gosh I love your Bingo idea!! Could you do the used as bait with either Legend or Wars please??

Bait and switch

Pairing: Warriors x reader

Rating: T

Summary: Cia has decided to pull some new stunt, and you get swept up in it. Queue a sweet get-together and Warriors spotting a fake you immediately.

Warnings: Cia, captivity, cursing,

Other:

You officially hate strange people in purple. Most of them are probably lovely, but the tall, skimpily clad woman before you wears purple and is holding you captive, so you're a little bitter today.

Sue you.

She's got some sort of vendetta as she looks you over. Rude but she also kidnapped you so being rude is to be expected.

Unfortunately, you've been here for four days, and you are getting really sick of this lady. You're mostly sure she's called Cia. Whether that's accurate or not, you would like to call her a criminal. Maybe even an asshole, what the kidnapping and what not.

She's spent the last ten minutes or so monolouging about how her hero is just confused by you and is going to choose her when he comes. She's also insulted you and told you he should break up with you. That's just today. The last three days were more of the same.

That last part of her rant is the most confusing because you aren't romantically involved with anyone. You aren't even entirely sure which Link she is talking about. You're narrowing it down to Warriors, Time, or Twilight.

"The Hero of Warriors will forget all about you when he sees me. Oh sure, he'll come for you, but he's just confused." The woman croons, waving her hand at you dismissively.

This is about the capatian? Really? He's certainly handsome. He's smart, kind, hard working, honest, and funny. He's quite the catch, but this seems a tad far, especially since you are confident he dosen’t like you as anything more than a friend.

"Wait- this is about Warriors?" You blink, trying not to laugh. It seems like a bad plan to laugh at your captor. "He isn't coming for me, no one is."

You hate that it's true. You know they have to keep on their path, even if they want to save you, there's little chance Hylia cares to give them time.

"Of course he will. They all will. I don't know how you have enchanted them but they will come for you. You've stolen Link from me-"

"Wars isn't going to come for me." You say again, trying not to let the truth burn your mouth. "He dosen’t love me and we aren't together."

The woman turns to you, raising one impeccable eyebrow. "Do not lie to me."

"I'm not." You say tightly. You bite back the bile in your throat as you try to ignore the heart ache. "Wars dosen’t love me and even if he somehow did, he wouldn't waste time saving me when he has a mission."

He is so hard working... how could your capture ever outweigh the Goddess' will?

She laughs at you coldly, not saying anything else before she disappears, leaving you to your own devices.

You sigh, looking at the shackles around each of your limbs. They're heavy and well maintained, chafing your skin. None of your gear is here, left only in your under shirt and pants.

Whoever this woman is, she sucks. Like- sucks so much.

She is also very stupid. Wars won't come for you and he dosen’t love you.

No one is coming. You'll just have to save yourself. Now, you just have to figure out how to get these pesky locks handled.

-------

Warriors tears through monsters with vicious single-minded focus. He's here like Cia wanted, but she won't like how this ends.

Golden three above, if you're hurt even a little - well... Warriors dosen’t have forgiveness for that in his heart.

He dosen’t think he can find any either.

It's been six days! You could be-

Warriors can't let himself think about all the negative possibilities. He has to focus on getting to you.

The others fight near him in ways he can't focus on. All he knows is that his brothers are still standing.

His focus is on trying to find some trace of you. Some sort of proof that you are alive and unharmed.

"Link!" Your voice cries from further away, the sound a sweet balm to his aching heart.

Warriors is moving faster than he can process. He tears through enemies until he can finally see you without obscuring vision.

He stands before you and almost kisses you. He dosen’t because that would be rude and disrespectful, but the sheer relief of seeing you makes him want to.

You're there, clothes torn and body bruised.

But you're there.

Golden three, you're breathtaking even now, roughed up and all.

"Sweetheart." Warriors breathes out.

You smile at him, sweetly, just a little off in a way he can't place. "I was so scared, I knew you'd come for me."

Except... something is wrong. Your smile is off. He's already noticed it, but it keeps naggingat him. It's just a little too sharp. Yes, sharp is the word.

Like honeyed silk stretching over a blade.

"Why wouldn't I?" Warriors asks, trying to figure out what is happening.

"I just thought... I just thought you'd be scared... Cia is so powerful... and you're so strong, but... I'm just your partner and-" Your voice says, but the show is officially up.

You aren't his partner the way the tone implies. Warriors would like you to be! But you aren't.

He narrows his eyes, something hot crawling up from his chest and settling onto his tongue.

Warriors grabs the imposter by the shirt and presses his sword to their throat with extreme biaz. "Where are they?!"

His voice is a snarl that has his teeth baring into a dangerous threat.

"I don't-"

Something blows up and throws a metal door of the hinges in the background. The door skids across the floor with a horrible sound like nails on a chalkboard and a wailing banshee.

"I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR SHINS!" Your voice shrieks as footsteps enter the hall.

That- sounds like you, alright.

"That's a fake!" The imposter protests quickly, gripping his wrist tightly.

Warriors snorts, "Uh huh. Cia, you're going to call your monsters off."

"I'm not Cia!" Cia lies through your voice and your face stares up at him with wide eyes that look wet-

This isn't you.

"CIA WHEN I CATCH YOU!" Your voice calls loudly as a metal bar is being used as a weapon. "WHEN I CATCH YOU CIA!"

"That's obviously a fake! You could never love someone so brash!" The fake- Cia protest.

Warriors drops the woman to the ground, ignoring the face she wears. "Start running."

"I-"

"OH, HE'LL COME GET ME?! HE WILL SAVE ME?! BULLSHIT LADY! I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR SHINS! I TOLD YOU NO ONE WAS COMING!" Your voice bounces off the walls as what must be your figure bashes a metal bar through the monsters around you.

Warriors flinches immediately.

You... thought no one was coming? That he wasn't coming for you? You felt you had to escape all by yourself if you were getting free at all?

He's failed you. Horribly and unforgivably.

The fake you frowns. "That's got to be a fake-"

"Shut up Cia." Warriors snaps.

Your voice gives a guttural screech as you fight.

Warriors starts towards the sound, that has to he you. The real you.

He trusts the others to handle Cia. His concern is you and nothing else.

He finds you mid swing, aiming at a fire lizafos.

You connect the swing and Warriors lunges forwards, skewering it and watching it puff into smoke.

"Sweetheart." Warriors says, looking you over for any hint that this is another trick.

You choke on something, "Wars? What are you doing?"

"Rescuing you!" He says quickly, "Looks like you beat me to it though."

You break into a nervous laugh, "I can go back to the cell?"

"Don't do that. Just - let me see you. Are you hurt?" Warriors sets his hands on your shoulders as he scans you.

You are bruising in a few places, abrasions, and raw wrists, but you are mostly okay. You stare up at him with wide eyes but this time they aren't wet. This time your eyes are wide with a positive emotion he can't quite name.

"Just a little banged up."

"I'm so sorry. This is my fault-"

"Nope!" You cut in, placing your hands on his wrists where he still holds your shoulders. "It is not. The only person to blame is Cia."

"I- I suppose."

The fighting around the two of you dosen’t matter. It is all but gone from your minds.

"I didn't think you'd come." You breathe out.

"I heard."

"Why did you come? You have your quest-"

"To hell with the quest!" Warriors declares as he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly as he begins to shake. "You're more important!"

"I'm not." You laugh shakily, leaning into his hold ad you snake your arms around his back.

"You are. Golden Three, sweetheart when you went missing I all but lost my mind."

"I'm right here."

"And I can never thank the stars enough."

You don't know what makes you ask the next thing that falls out of your mouth, but you do anyway. "Wars... Why did Cia tell me you loved me like we were lovers?"

His breath hitches. "She did?"

"She said she took me to bring you here. That I stole you."

"Oh."

"I don't know how I stole you." You huff.

Warriors pulls back, looking away as he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, (Y/n)... You didn't steal me because I wasn't hers ... but my feelings put you in danger."

You frown, wheel turning as you try to figure out what feelings he is talking about. That sounds an awful lot like Cia was right about Warriors loving you.

But that would be ridiculous. Right?

"I understand if you want space from me after this... This isn't how I wanted you to find out I was head over heels for you, but I guess the cat's out of the bag." He chuckles dryly, looking to you.

"Link." You breathe out.

Warriors pulls you closer to him so you can avoid a stray shield flying through the air. "Sorry-"

You laugh, pulling him into a hug. "We are so stupid."

"What?"

"Here I thought you couldn't ever see me like that, nursing my heartache." You snort, "But here you are, apparently in love with me too."

"Too?" He asks weakly.

You look at him, smiling softly. "I'm so in love with you, Link. You're smart, capable, honest, hardworking, loyal, and funny. How could I not be?"

His breath hitches again but he just hugs you closer. "We are stupid."

"She's going to be so mad that this is how we get together." You laugh.

Warriors laughs too, "It is?"

"Well, I think you coming to save me from evil pants over there and your confession make a pretty convincing case that we should be together."

"I'd love that." Warriors says breathlessly, eyes holding your gaze before flicking to your lips.

He's been wanting to kiss you for so long... perhaps he can?

"Lovebirds come on!" Legend calls from somewhere else. "It's time to go!"

"Together?" You ask with a smile.

"Together." Warriors agrees.

If on the way out, you kick Cia's shins just so you can make good on your word... no one protests.

Warriors leaves hand in hand with you. His heart relaxing as your presence sinks into him.

When you're cleaned up and in fresh clothes, he feels even lighter.

Now, you know that he will come to save you every time. Always. He just hopes he dosen’t need to because he doesn't want you taken hostage.

[meadowfics]

does seoah ever ask about why everyone has two grandmothers and she only has one?like after a day at daehos mom house,does she ever ask about readers mom?

yes! here is what I typed:

you sat on the floor with seo-ah, helping her put together a puzzle she had gotten from her last visit to daeho’s mother’s house.

she had been excited all day to do it, telling you how, "grammy helped me with the edges, but i wanted to finish it with you, mommy!"

beside you, byeol was babbling on her tummy, her tiny fingers grasping at the soft blanket beneath her. every now and then, she’d lift her head to look at her big sister and you, her sleepy eyes blinking slowly as if she were trying to understand what was happening.

the evening is peaceful.

until seo-ah suddenly paused mid-piece, her small fingers hesitating over the puzzle before she turned to look up at you with those big, curious eyes.

“mommy?”

you hummed in response, still focused on placing a corner piece into its correct spot. however, her next words made your fingers still.

“why do i only have one grammy?”

your breath caught in your throat and your hand stopped moving.

your mind went blank. of course, she would ask eventually.

she had been spending a lot of time at daeho’s mother’s house lately. she adored her grammy, and grammy adored her and byeol. seo-ah came back from those visits with stories about what she did, what she ate, how grammy had let her help water the garden, how she had shown her old photos of daeho as a little boy.

now, she was old enough to notice things.

she started to notice that some of her friends at daycare had two grandmothers. mommy's mom and daddy's mom.

seo-ah started to notice how she only had one and had never met your mother.

you turned to face her fully, putting the puzzle piece down.

she was looking at you expectantly, her face innocent, her question simple. for you, the answer wasn’t simple at all.

“you know how i told you that not all people in this world are good people?”

you started softly, carefully choosing your words.

she nodded immediately, already familiar with the phrase.

you had told her that before but you had never told her why.

"well… my mom wasn’t one of the good people," you admitted gently.

"and sometimes, when people aren't good, it's better to love them from far away."

seo-ah's brows furrowed, her little mind working through your words. she wasn’t quite sure what you meant, but she understood enough.

she stared down at the puzzle, thinking.

you could tell she was trying to connect the dots but she was still too young to understand the full picture.

after a moment, she looked back up at you and asked, "was she bad like the villains in my cartoons?"

your chest tightened.

you shook your head, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

she was, but you couldn't tell your little four year old that.

"not everyone who isn't good is a villain, baby."

she frowned, tilting her head.

"then… what was she?"

your fingers curled slightly against your knee.

"someone who didn't know how to love the right way, I guess."

she blinked at that, her face serious, before she nodded, accepting it because to her, that was enough of an answer.

"she passed away too baby, I'm sorry you never got to meet her."

you continued, apologizing to seo-ah incase you've made her feel some type of way for only having one grandmother.

seo-ah didn’t need to know the physical abuse, the cruel words, the way your mother had made you feel so small, unwanted, unloved.

she didn’t need to know that you had spent most of your childhood wishing for the kind of mother that you were trying to be for her and byeol.

she just needed to know that you were here, and your mother wasn’t.

after another pause, she looked back at her puzzle and quietly mumbled, "I will be okay, the grammy I have is enough."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

grammy is enough.

your mother had left you with nothing but pain but daeho’s mother? she had given you love and she had given your daughters love.

"she loves you so much,"

you told her, your voice thick with emotion.

seo-ah smiled.

"i know."

after that, your oldest daughter picked up a puzzle piece and placed it into its spot, moving on like she hadn't just shaken your entire world with such an innocent question but you sat there for a moment, watching her.

as you watched seo-ah quietly place another puzzle piece, your thoughts began to drift.

what if your mother had been alive to meet her?

what if she had met byeol?

your stomach twisted at the thought because would she have pretended to be a loving grandmother, putting on an act the way she sometimes did in front of others or would she have done to them what she did to you?

would she have picked a favorite like she did with you and your older sister? would seo-ah be the one she doted on, while byeol was cast aside? or the other way around? or would she have hurt them, too?

the idea made your hands tremble.

you had spent so much of your childhood longing for her love, only to be met with neglect, with cruelty, with abuse, and with words that cut deeper than any wound.

you could never let her do that to your daughters.

you'd end her before she did, but if she had lived, what if she tried?

what if she had demanded to be in their lives, insisting she had changed, pretending to be a doting grandmother, all while planting seeds of doubt in their little hearts the way she had in yours?

what if she had looked at seo-ah...your bright, bubbly little girl...and found her lacking, the way she always found you lacking?

what if she had looked at byeol...your sweet, sleepy baby...and saw nothing but a burden?

your jaw clenched.

no. she never would have gotten the chance.

you wouldn’t have allowed it and your daughters would never know what it felt like to be unwanted.

you inhaled deeply, shaking the thoughts from your mind, focusing back on seo-ah, who was now humming softly as she worked on the puzzle.

she is happy and she is loved.

she had a grammy who adored her, an appa who would move mountains for her, and a mommy who would give her the galaxy.

one grammy made up for the absence of the other.

[vossprime]

20 Questions: Writing Edition

Tagged by the Inquisition herself ( @inquisitornocturn ), thank you, this looks so fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

23!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

102,210

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mechanical; Medicinal (Rogue Trader)

Absolute / Obedience (BG3)

Systematical; Sacrificial (Rogue Trader)

I don't know where to put my hands (Metro 2033)

Blood in the Water (WH40K)

What fandoms do you write for?

WH40K, broadly speaking.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to all of them simply because they spark an endless well of joy in me and most often inspire me to say something in return. Also whenever I comment I love replies as well, so I try to keep that going.

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

Once I fucking sit down and continue Blackwater Days you will all see-

From my recent ones, on the principle of want (RT, Achilleas x Heinrix) comes to mind. Not for the plot, necessarily, which is more sorrowful than angsty, but the last line:

For a moment Heinrix wants to kiss him awake, kiss him goodbye.  The Interrogator breathes once, twice, then turns on his heel and leaves the room.

It was a deliberate choice to contrast Heinrix with his title here, that was my special little treat to myself. I gain another health bar anytime someone points it out.

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

Ironic, given the title, but Bellicose Hearts (Horus Heresy). It was written as a gift and a challenge for @mortallyperfecttimemachine and the theme was humor and fluff, so it ended on a nice note. A photo together. The remembrancers are happy. Keeler is there. Karkasy is alive. Isstvan is far away.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not directly! My comments are locked to registered accounts only, that seems to dissuade the obvious bots and trolls. Always fond of the ask I got that was just a "👎" tho.

Do you write smut?

In theory yes, in practice I have been told my smut is just character studies in disguise. My most popular fics stay the ones that were exclusively written with my [redacted] though.

Do you write crossovers?

Not really - most often they don't hold any appeal for me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I'm already being vagued /j - SOON.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

You're asking someone who has a brain like a sieve and triple-wields ships until polyamory is the only sensible solution :D

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

None. I plan to see everything through. If it takes 10 years, it takes 10 years. Farseer grindset.

What are your writing strengths?

Prose, poetry, evocative imagery.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Who came up with this. Is it not enough to communicate through 4-6 intricately crafted metaphors and call it a day? Hell world.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Provided I am writing in English, I provide translation in the footnotes and try not to have it drag on for too long. I do enjoy some language variety in fic, though. Dirty Talk in another language? Elite. Sadly I come from the language the absolute least suited for writing this.

First fandom you wrote for?

The first one I published for was Metro 2033, the book. The first one I wrote was for a mobile game called The Arcana. Don't judge me, a bitch saw tarot themes and a pointy-toothed nonbinary vivisection freak and decided he just might. A true freak from day one - you can tell why I like Tervantias.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm going to level with you. It will always be the last one. I grow and evolve with each piece and whatever I have last put out will be my pride and joy at that very moment. However, Blackwater Days (which I still plan to bring past chapter 1, it's just sitting in my drafts all disjointed and none of like 5 chapters empty but none ready either) will always be close to my heart for how much planning, fantasizing and worldbuilding happened around it. Those three hour discussions with my roommate on military strategy are sacred.

Tagging: Let me gather my irl squad for a second: @definitely-not-iorveth @mortallyperfecttimemachine , @goofgoofdildo , @ineadhyn , I'd be really interested to hear if you feel like it!

[raymoo--hackery]

I've been brainstorming a lot more about my Storches. A lot.

And as you can see from this doodle, the cadre has increased!!

There's still a LOT I'm pondering but here's a good ol' yap about some of the potential ideas of have rn :3

I've just had them on my mind the past week or so, cus I want to expand on them more and give them some sort of story and more dynamics with each other.

Bcus I thought it would be funny to make a full cadre of Storches and then imagine the slice of life scenarios these Storches would get up to. (that I will derail eventually bcus I always do. Evil in my heart <3)

I won't elaborate much on personality for the initial 3, as that's kind of in the original artwork lol.

I've been pondering names for them, someone gave me the idea to do mythology based names, so I went with that and I want to make each Storch have their name derived from a different mythological background.

So far I settled on 2 (two) of their names, pretty obvious ones too, Athena for the veteran and Fenrir for that insane bastard, as you can see.

Also I might make Athena and that people pleaser bitch kiss just for fun teehee :3

Been considering it.

Seriously considering it.

Yuri in my head.

Also been thinking a lot on Fenrir cus I want her to be as much of a menace as possible for as long as possible before she gets decommissioned so it's like how can I do I make her do the most abhorrent shit without getting killed on the spot.

I once again have some ideas, and I know for sure I want her to off her Star mentor and a Kolibri at the very least.

Been pondering the idea of her killing a Falke right before she perishes, just bcus Fenrir killed Odin during Ragnarok and then immediately got killed by one of Odins sons afterwards, but I'm not 100% on that idea yet.

As for the other two newer additions I've had in mind, they're both leaning into the booknerd aspect of Storches.

The first (the one in the middle of that doodle) I imagine to be the kind of Storch who appears like a quiet bookworm, but then will say the most snarkyass statement you've ever heard completely uncalled for.

Like all the other Storches could be arguing about something and she'll just be off in the corner reading and seemingly not giving single shit until at the perfect time she pipes up and says some sarcastic condescending passive aggressiveass statement that somehow manages to make everyone turn on her, and she'll be like "whaaaat I did nothing wrong I've just been reading".

She'd try to weasel her way out of trouble the same way I think lol.

She very much knows what she's doing and enjoys it.

The other booknerd Storch (on the far left) I just imagine Storch autism final boss.

Simply put "erm actually ☝️🤓" type Storch.

Reads every single book that's owned in the library, anything extra she can get her hands on (even if it's contraband), and then she WILL argue with you on it if you dare get any fact or plot point WRONG (including if you have the wrong opinion on something).

Or if someone says something, anything, and she happens to overhear, she WILL stick her two cents in and WILL insist that she is correct.

Incredible Storch autism on full display.

Now some extra details.

Obvs Athena fought in a war before retiring from the fight and being stationed wherever and whatever this facility is, she's unit 01, unmentored, and the oldest at 7 yrs.

Unit 02 is the snarkyass bitch, I imagine she's a fairly recent deployment, having been only a temporary in maybe one or two other facilities before being officially assigned to this one, mentored and 3 yrs.

Unit 03 is our people pleasing friend, who was at a different facility prior to moving to this one, also unmentored and insecure and using the WORST coping mechanisms ever, but it's ok cus now Athena can help her out <3 also she's 5 yrs.

Now after those three idk if I want to add some more inbetweens or not, that will be pending, but for now:

Unit 04 or 05 is Storch autism central, newer hire and mentored, I think she'd be around 1-2 yrs, has only ever been working for this facility.

Unit 06 or 07 would be Fenrir and she is a little baby (< 1 yr) also mentored (until she killed her mentor) she just got deployed specifically for this facility and she already has a lot of problems idek what's wrong with her tbh.

I've also been considering some other Replikas.

One such is a fucking insanely delusional Star who thinks "I can fix her" towards Fenrir (she can't.) (no yuri will happen.) (she will get mauled.) I just think it's funny <3

And then maybe an ARAR to go with my fuckin nerdass Storch.

Yapper x listener type shit.

Just considerations tho nothing set in stone.

Everything is just a mess of ideas I'm pondering honestly, all subject to changes.

But yeah. I love Storches. There will be more. Thank you.

ONE MILLION STORCHES!!!!!

For those who don't follow my twt, you missed the hundreds of millions of rants I go on about Storches. BCUS I LOVE STORCHES!!!

I was peeved by the fact Storches only often get portrayed in one particular way... and even tho they have a fair amount of fanart and fanworks, they don't feel like they have many fans...

It peeves me for many reasons, but I'm not about to get into it here, so you can seek it out on my twt or bsky if you're curious.

Anyways, this handful of Storches was born from that; from wanting to see more Storch variety, and more ways to portray a Storch's anger!! Anger in general really, feels like one of the emotions that gets done dirty the most in media.

I just love Storches soooo much. I LOOOOVE STORCHES. RAYMOO HACKERY. #1 STORCH DEFENDER. STORCHMAXX CENTRAL. I want Storches to have more appreciation!!!!! I will be part of Storch Nation until I DIE. Carry it on my back if I must.

Oh yeah have this stupid meme too

[bcacstuff]

Hi BC,

After reading your posts and others regarding Sam and Vicky in Mexico, something came to mind. No one except Sam and Vicky truly knows what happened there—we’re all just discussing assumptions. Since we can’t say for sure if any of them are true, please take mine with a grain of salt.

After the SS tour, like many of you, I was sure there would be a vacation—but not a "fukation." Why not a "fukation"? Because I believe that after 2023, Sam has gone through a shift in his life, especially emotionally. I won’t get into that part here, but I do understand why he walked with that woman and why he took Alice to that match. So, I was certain he would take a vacation.

When news about Vicky surfaced—especially after the mutual following—I thought I had been wrong in my assumptions. However, after seeing photos of Sam with fans yesterday, I got the impression even more than before that he was actually there alone—just exercising, drinking, and relaxing. I believe he was in Sayulita by himself. When the first fan photo was shared, he was already gone. Maybe he met Vicky for just one day. Their relationship seems to be more about adventure than anything serious. We know they went camping and kayaking together. Sam can sometimes do crazy things, but I think he has certain red flags when it comes to relationships with some people, and I believe Vicky is one of them. If he had been with an influencer or model, I would have been more convinced that it was a "fukation." However, I doubt he would get into a relationship with a co-worker—I think that’s a boundary he wouldn’t cross.

Regarding the private account following, I agree with much of what you’ve said, but I see it a little differently. I think the reason Sam and Vicky didn’t follow the hotel—despite it being expected if they were both staying there—is because Sam was never at that hotel at all.

This is what I believe: On Saturday, Sam and Vicky were on some kind of nature adventure. Maybe they met Pedro there and became acquainted. Maybe they had some issues, and he helped them, or maybe he was simply part of a nature tour they joined. It’s possible they got to talking, and Pedro invited them to visit that hotel next time they were in Mexico. If Sam had actually stayed at that hotel, wouldn’t he have followed its account like he usually does? And if Vicky had a special experience there, wouldn’t she have followed the hotel instead of Pedro? I don’t think she was ever at that hotel.

As for the voice in the video, a lot of us had problems with the accent and speed of speech. Since they were in Mexico, it could have been a tour guide or even Pedro speaking English with a Spanish accent. Hispanic people who are bilingual in Spanish and English often speak English very quickly.

These are all just assumptions—thanks!

Yes, there's just a waterfall (still hours away), a voice which nobody can 100% take as proof for anything, and a follow which would be a very huge coincidence. I'm quite baffled how people can take their fantasy so far about these 3 small things and make up a whole story about it. Like they stayed in the same hotel and more. You simply can't!

I don't know about the shift, I really don't see any change. Ending OL surely has an impact. I can't tell what happened to him and all these women we saw last year, maybe some sort of dealing with insecurity as he saw OL ending and not knowing what's gonna be next. But I still see the more likable guy in the UK, I loved the Everest adventure, he was just spending Xmas with family and took a skitrip. Nothing out of the ordenary. But as soon as he's a while in the US, and even more when with AN who wants to put him an image out to be the big HW star, he becomes less likable, somewhat arrogant maybe. I've seen it many times now, and I'm sure many saw the same thing happening over again and over again with me.

I agree to some level about the just meeting up for a day or maybe even less. Yes we speculate, maybe AN's kids were over for a some days, maybe Vicky asked him for some tips on Mexico as she planned a trip to Mexico, maybe Sam wanted to meet this Pedro Fernandez del Valle, a raicilla expert and distiller who founded the family-led brand Aycya, we know S has his friends in the region and surely this name would have come up. And maybe it's a combination of this all. See there are many options.

I disagree on the red flag for Vicky. It's not his first rodeo, and I'm not only talking about it being a young girl. It's happened before with a, uhm co-worker you say? Hmm well whatever you wanna call it. It's the power and financial imbalance really that is here at stake and even could turn into a risk for him. That's why I don't really like to post about it (in the other occasion I never did, and wont do it now either. A few know and even less know her name)

I also disagree about the hotel. Little research learns you, Pedro is the owner of the hotel and as said and expert and distiller, things we know interests him. I don't see why he would also need to follow the hotel, it was the man he was interested in and to get in contact with. If Vicky stayed there, no idea, she was there though as she followed the man as well.

Even more, if you take a look at where these fan pics are taken, you will easily find that they're taken right next to the hotel and the tattoo shop all 3 tattooers work at, they're close on the same road.

Just take a look at the addresses

if you look that up on Google maps you'll see this

Him walking with that smoothie right there tells me he stayed at the hotel got himself a smoothie and it looks like he was gonna run, or just finished a run and got himself a smoothie afterwards on his way to the hotel. So there is that.

Well I leave things at that, enough about this subject already. He's already bored in LA and Vicky, gosh wherever she is or what she's doing, I hope she has fun on her trip.