#but i was revisiting an old fic idea i had a while ago and i think i struck on something good

[carlyraejepsans]

ohghh i have a REAL fun idea for a fic but now I'm too excited to actually write it i just keep pacing around my room instead

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

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[suffarustuffaru]

I think I read a while ago on reddit that you had a madoka magica au for re zero, do you still think about it? I can Imagine Subaru taking the place of Homura but the rest of the cast is harder to place. It's a fun thought exercise though.

WAIT wow your ask sent me down memory lane wkdndn i forgot i even had a madoka magica au in the works for a while. i made it in like late 2020 and last worked on it in early-mid 2021 hah mostly bc my skill with writing and art didnt match with how big of an idea a multichap plotty crossover/fusion au was and i was still just dipping my toes into more ambitious ideas!! but id love to revisit it again now that i got more practice 👍

i like read your ask then went WAIT A MINUTE I DO HAVE A MADOKA MAGICA AU and then i skimmed through my old google doc plot outline for it in a frenzy. but also i used to write in yellow comic sans at the time so i wont subject you to my old terrible (affectionate) writing habits too much. but i think its funny how i had some notes on vague (and Dead Serious) ideas for witch form symbolism and i just found this yellow comic sans monstrosity:

2020/21 me was on some drugs probably LMAO 😭😭 but given madoka magica’s canon content that is probably a good thing if youre writing serious madoka magica fic.

also i did have a tiny bit of finished writing for it. here is the old synopsis past me came up with:

Stumbling across magic and witches, fourteen-year-old Natsuki Subaru follows his new friends and a mischievous cat spirit into a world where a single contract could grant you your greatest wish.

And at the end of it all, he really should’ve known this from the start: wishes always come with a cost.

i think that currently id probably change up this synopsis a bit if i worked on it again but it aint bad i think 👍 and yes youre right subaru would def be in homuras role for this fic… 😔 anyone whos seen both madoka magica and rezero would immediately make that connection i think hah they have. Similarities, as we know 😔

and i deaged some of the rezero cast as you can see hah. not sure if id keep that but i think an important aspect of madoka magica is that the main characters are that young. it helps add to some of their decisions and adds to the tragedy and whatnot. that and like. targeting vulnerable young girls, Literal Children, knowing that most would make a wish and sell their souls in a heartbeat and then easily be crushed by trauma without being able to fight back much, you know? :,) and then theyd make Lots and Lots of despair to harvest… and madoka was meant as a magical girl deconstruction and magical girls iirc tend to be arounddd early teens/preteens!! ill talk a bit more later on how id try to do this au with deaged rz cast hah.

also i did have a small drabble written for this au!!

The boy, no older than fourteen, stands there with an eerie sense of calm.

His frame is seemingly scrawny and lean, dawning dark clothing reminiscent of a mixture between a tracksuit and a school uniform - even if it’s adorned with golden ribbons and stripes - with a whip attached to the belt at his waist. Draped over that is a cloak, the hood of it casting a shadow over messy black hair and a cold expression. His keen eyes, emphasized by the deep bags underneath, narrow at the sight of Puck, mean and brimming with distaste.

With a steady hand, he raises a pistol to Puck’s head.

The moonlight shines dimly through the broken windows and onto the shards littered all over the floor. A beam illuminates a metal contraption, its appearance similar to a shield, strapped to the boy’s forearm.

“You know, I don’t quite recall making a contract with you,” Puck muses cheerily, though an undercurrent of a threat weaves itself into his tone. He stares down the barrel without fear, his sharp teeth revealed in his smile. “Who are you, really? And why are you so upset that I’ve been getting close with Lia? Jealous much?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” the boy replies instead, bitterly spitting out each and every word. “Don’t you dare pretend that you only have her best interests at heart, or that you really care for her like a father figure would. It makes me sick.” He sneers as he digs the cool metal of the gun harder into Puck’s fur. “Because if you make even just one mention of creating a contract with her, or if you even come near her… I’ll definitely make sure that you regret it.”

yeah so. past me made puck kyubey apparently 😔👍 and if i revisited this au im not sure if i would keep subarus character development to be Exactly the same (ie it was very greedbaru/pridebaru/homura inspired) but this drabble was a fun exercise at the time!!

but anyway i will ramble about some more ideas i had for this au under the cut!! turned out past me had A Lot of ideas.

yes so this au was like. a fusion of sorts so yes i was assigning rz characters certain roles, blending worldbuilding together, etc etc but the general plot sort of followed the general story of the main madoka magica plot from the main show to rebellion!! it was like vaguely modernish too, but you know, madoka likes to be Creative with its backgrounds (see: the infinite amount of crazy chairs everywhere, which im still very fond of to this day) and also rz vainglory/school if has its fantasy world cast mixed in with subarus parents still being there iirc and a whole bunch of other details too (like beatrice being subarus adopted sister iirc?). so i was going the vainglory-ish route here in terms of “how modern is this world?” 👍

the main cast i was focusing on was gonna be subaru (homura), emilia (madoka), rem (sayaka), ram, beatrice, felt, and reinhard. also puck as kyubey haah and satella as walprugisnacht aka the giant witch at the end of the main show. i havent seen madoka in a bit wkdn i gotta rewatch. but anyway!! felt and reinhard got a mix of mami and kyokos roles narrative wise yeah.

quick rundown on their characters is that i wanted to stick to the rz cast’s canon characterization as much as possible while leaving room for fun experimentation!! and if theyre still younger than normal canon here—subarus still got his Big Ego/Im The Main Character mindset but in that way thats specific to his little kid self bc he hasnt gotten Completely Depressed yet (think like. arc 7-8 type stuff), reinhards still stuck in the middle of watching his dad gradually deteriorate, felts even Younger and still trying to find her footing a bit, rem is Guiltily and enviously trying to live up to ram’s Golden Childness (this is pre-Incident That Kills Their Whole Family). and emilia has lived a lonely life in the forest somewhere with no one for company :,) i cant remember if i had some Magic Mindfuckery ideas for her backstory here but ive definitely had ideas for modernizing her backstory for other aus like this!! but either way emilias family is still dead ;-; and i do consider like. the idea that modern emilia would have albinism, especially when there is discrimination in place against people with albinism that is a little similar to emilias canon struggle with her appearance so a modern take of emilia being that she is someone with albinism would be Very Relevant!! but!! not sure if id go all the way with that bc its a sensitive topic that needs to be treated with care and i dont personally have albinism 👍 or i could go the magic route and go “emilia looks like a previous magical girl thats become the most powerful witch yet….” ie satella ofc. so emilia would still be a bit of a “red flag” to other magical people.

but yes emilia wished for. im not sure but probably smth like “i wish not to be lonely anymore”…………. and then she got her wish granted via having magical girl/boy friends and puck!!!!! thisll totally end happily.

and quick note on reinhard is i didnt have much plot ideas for him yet but i considered different ideas for his backstory!! maybe theres some magic fuckery and theresia was a magical girl once? no clue how that works but it was an Idea i had for sure. also various ideas to modernize the Astrea Family Drama (dont worry the accidental indirectly/directly causing your family member’s death thing would still be there wkdndh this is an important detail to me.) but regardless of whats going on with reinhards backstory his wish was a naive little kid wish!! he wanted to be a hero who helps people ;-; good going reinhard ;-;

the entire plot of this au in general was divided in half, first half would be the first timeline where things go wrong. subarus gonna be the pov and hes the audience surrogate bc hes new to the world of magical girls/boys and no one in the group 100% knows the ugly truth yet!! and like in canon emilia/madoka has already become a magical girl here. emilia is also already close with puck—and emilia is the one person puck has genuine fondness for ;-; and i had a Lot of ideas for what exactly went wrong here—i had elsa and meili planned as witches? and i think i considered disemboweling felt :<<<< this is very sad bc her family gave her away to save her bc they were in danger (yes just like in canon rz) but then later felt had her life threatened or smth? and like mami, felt wished to keep living. but the wording felt used was wanting to “live strong”…………….. well she sure got it by fighting elsa valiantly but still losing 😔

also ok the first person to become a witch is beatrice. i had like wild ideas with beatrice—the possibility that echidna still made beatrice and puck and that beatrice couldve been a failed—whats the word for the creatures in madoka that collect/cause magical girls??? incubators i think?? yeah that. because whatre the two things a little kids gonna probably trust?? a cute cat creature and a tiny little girl offering free wishes, probably. and of course beatrice got assigned by her biomom echidna to look after echidnas library maybe. bc echidnas funny like that and beatrice didnt work out as an incubator so now shes gonna generate soooo much despair when she realizes that there is no That Person + the truth of magical girls/boys and what beatrice was meant to be used for….

yes more various shit hits the fan bc rem and rams canon witch cult backstory… i had plans to adjust it for this au and make it happen In Real Time. and also rem’s wish was probably something along the lines of wanted to be needed. and Better. so not just Like Ram. but rem wanted to be More than ram. which rem is guilty about but thats still what she wants so she wishes for it away from rams eyes. ofc rams feelings on this is that she just wants her sister to treasure herself and be safe and whatnot but rem is kinda in her pre-witch cult trauma mode and Oops now their town is destroyed in flames and their family is dead ;-;;; not sure how else id modernize rem and rams backstory but yes this is. this is how their plot went in that first timeline wkdnd. and ram is injured in some way ;-;;;

yes and then rem you know pulls a sayaka and goes a little crazy about everything bc beatrices whole ordeal already revealed how fucked they all are and then rem and rams Trauma just happened so rem feels like shit!! and then she becomes a witch too oops ;-; and then reinhard decides to be the hero and sacrifices himself so emisuba can escape ;-;; or at least that was my plan at the time. but yeah rem became better (a magical girl. bc ram didnt feel like making a wish bc her only wish would be wanting rems happiness but she didnt want to Cheat That. she wanted rem to find it on her terms. except rem became “better” and bigger than ram by being a witch also oops. also i think i still had vague plans to include rem being Obsessed with subaru to contrast what will later be subarus emilia obsession haha) and then reinhard. is the hero. </3

satella comes in somewhere at the end. she used to be a magical girl but she became a witch and shes Crazy Powerful for reasons i have forgotten now 👍 but i definitely wanted to have more shenanigans going on with her backstory to keep that sort of emilia-satella-subaru mystery connection. and theyre still connected anyway bc emisuba inevitably lose to satella bc shes too powerful ;-; emilia is gonna die and puck realizes OH SHIT I SHOULDNT BE FEELING LOVE BUT I DO GENUINELY LOVE EMILIA I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. WITH HER DYING. ID RATHER DESTROY EVERYTHING THAN LET THAT HAPPEN. and ofc subarus also in agreement bc oh god oh god—and yeah. subaru hasnt made a wish until this point but he makes a contract with puck to promise to save Everyone. like subarus promise in canon right before he dies for the first time you know? bc then he dies.

and wooooo the time loop officially begins!!! i had more ideas but i have typed lots on this post already akfnd maybe ill save it for another time if people are interested.

but yes thats all thats the au!!!! i am not familiar with stuff like magia record yet sadly ;-;; but if i ever wanted to expand the au thats def One option 👍 bc WOW the rz cast would be such a goddamn gold mine for those fucking incubators. little kid felix argyle would be a Top Tier candidate for them. like can you imagine???? thatd be the biggest disaster of all time ;-;;; and also theres Lots of possibilities for various witches the cast can fight!! very fun stuff its why i chose elsa and meili and satella :o !! but yes id consider exploring other candidates for magical girls and boys as well bc WOW felix would go insane here.

[gilbirda]

for the ask game: Danny Arkham Security Guard?

I've been curious where you're at with that for a while (I assumed the muse has fled and/or you're too busy with other fics), so had to pick that one when I saw it on the list 👀

From this WIP ask game

Haha! I knew someone would ask about it!

Honestly I have struggled a lot with picking this bad boy up... When I finally did a few months ago, the last edit was July 2022 😭

Long story short, summer 2022 was the time I really went down the spiral with Hardcover ship and literally every idea I had was for those two. I think what happened was that I realized there was an untapped potential and market for romance and all the classic romance tropes in DP fandom (I understood why that was the case, but still I was frustrated because I hadn't seen a single fic that made me crazy about any ship in DP) and it left me wanting.

Then I wrote Arkham Guard Danny and I did the bit where Jazz almost shoots Jason, and then I liked the dynamics between him and the siblings and I literally said in the AN if I ended up shipping him, I was debating between Jazz and Danny. *laughs in irony*

So basically I went "what if I write every romance story trope but Jazz/Jason?" and the rest is history.

And every damn time I went back to Arkham Guard Danny, I re read it and realized.... Is just so bad. I saw flaws everywhere. I saw bad characterization. I saw "angry robin Jason" and a bunch of things I don't stand by anymore and I felt like there was no way I could continue that fic and the difference wouldn't be felt. Was I too harsh with myself? Absolutely, but we are our worst critic.

Also? I felt the project running away from me. I started developing worldbuilding and ideas and I got mad because Arkham Guard is supposed to be simple. It used to be the "simple fic" I did while I focused on my magnum opus for DP fandom (Eldritch Ghost King Danny AU - "You and me and our best friend makes three"). If it got complicated I didn't want to write it anymore. And then it did and I dropped it.

Recently I went through a really bad situation and it kind of killed any want to write for dpxdc. I thought - why not go back to the basics? Revisit what really made me start in the fandom, what made me get a bunch of comments like "i got into dpxdc because of this fic". Took me back to when I started, how simple it felt to just write a fic and drop it to the ether and not worry about the things that made me want to stop forever.

So I did. Feels good to pick this up again!

I could go on forever but I won't continue rambling about this project (✿◡‿◡)

If you read up to this point, here's a little bit of what I have so far!

---

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that wretched place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

[artinandwritin]

I dont think i ever mentioned it but ever since i started applying to art colleges I've been keeping up an art wall and since i just added some new illustrations to it, i thought it would be fun to explain some things on my wall and revisit some of my old favourites!

Going from left to right, we start with some more recent illustrations (featuring, ofc, gussiri, Niv, and a recent illustration of Cato from @otwdfanfic 's fic that i liked sm i just had to print and put up somewhere). Next to Cato, I put a gift i got from my dear friend @lt-catbolt of our bois Niv and Melatron and i cant remember if this was for my birthday or for fun, all i know is that i nearly cried when she gave it to me (go follow her now btw she's awesome and shes gonna become one of the most expressive storytellers of our generation i just know it)

Underneath Cato and Niv/Mel, we've got a huge pencil drawing I did 2 years ago to get accepted into an art college. It took me so. So long. I even begged my teachers from high school to let me follow classes online so i could continue working (they said yes lmao) and my mom even had to help. Worse, it wasnt the only assignment that particular art school had given me, no, they had given me a total of 6 assignments I had to complete. They all took a lot of time and didnt all turn out great haha. I didnt get accepted into that school (it was a fine arts study so im pretty sure i wouldnt have been happy there anyways) but that just makes me all the more happy i did get accepted into the one im currently attending

Anyway ive been too lazy to take it down so now itll be there until i find the willpower to take it down

The butterfly above it is a painting i did towards autumn of 2021 for my portfolio. I'm not the best painter (decent enough but its just not for me) but im still really happy with how this turned out. It was pretty fun!

Underneath that is an inkt print made from a stencil once again featuring Cato (i have. No idea why hes on my wall twice lmao i guess hes just a great muse). People who have been with me for long enough probably still remember this cuz i was superproud of how it turned out and plastered it all over my account (and my house. My mom wanted a copy as well)

Underneath the inkt print is a poster i got while visiting the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe stage play when I was in London in autumn of 2022 (take me back London take me back take me back). The play was absolutely stunning and the way everything was staged left me (as a life long narnia enthusiast) ecstatic and super excited. One of the best plays ive ever seen even if i had one of the worst seats in the theatre <3

Next to the poster is another little gussiri drawing i printed lmao. The little goobers show up so much

Above the poster is more of gussiri!! And above that is another painting i made, this time of some mushrooms. I made this during a party i threw for my 18th birthday, we all did some painting together and i remember my lovely lovely friend @allilcat painting with watercolours so well. That memory is just etched into my brain <333

Above that is a painting i made of the night sky! I used it for my portfolio and it was really cool to paint since i, not knowing basic painting techniques, could only really throw my own imagination into it which gave a really cool result. Still really love it!

Lastly, we've got a Siri illustration made by a classmate of mine for a secret santa we did last christmas! I was so happy with it and ofc it deserved a really good spot on my wall <333

Thats been a bit about my wall, if youve made it this far thanks for listening to me rambling <333

[onewomancitadel]

A smattering of general updates:

I played Tears of the Kingdom. I didn't really enjoy it. I understand why it was popular though; I'm just not the demographic for these types of video games anymore. I didn't find it creatively rewarding and after a time I sat there thinking 'I would rather be writing right now', and since then I have learnt that writing is made easier by doing things which are not writing, because it makes me miss it. My dad also doesn't really like it but for some reason has played hundreds of hours in it. I don't know either - I think he will take anything called Zelda at this point.

I spectated the Doctor Who David Tennant Special and watched some clips of the new season. I'm not a fan of RTD, and not a DW fan anymore (not for a long time), but it was an interesting study in how studios try to attract old and new fans.

I read a lot of books, and that lie people tell you about all books being good for you is a lie, because a cyberpunk anthology of short stories made me so angry I got heartburn. I think people who say that are saying so because they wish that they could read a lot, in which case I say, yes I think reading is a gift and we should engage with it, however, sometimes I get so physically angry from something stupid/bad I've read because bad writers exist that it gives me actual pain. I am reading Howl's Moving Castle right now and it's very joyful; I am very surprised by the liberties the animated film took! However so far I do think both experiences are worthwhile, and if you enjoyed the Ghibli film, I very much recommend checking out the original book if you want to revisit that world again. The prose is straightforward but a little whimsical, and Howl is very, very funny. I have laughed aloud a few times.

Well, you know I rewatched Dark, and it's funny that during my exile I said 'this is like if RWBY got the ending it deserves' and then, er, I found out it's not renewed yet, and that's still up in the air, which for the entirety of RWBY I have only had one true moment of doubt of such a thing, and that was a while ago.

On that topic, yes, I still ship Jaune/Cinder, believe Cinder's redemption is likely, etc., although there are some more external concerns I would wager now than before. Before I thought it very possible to do without any commercial influence, and it depends what compromises they do or don't end up making or having already made. My analysis of Jaune's arc in V9 may not hold water as much (e.g. if you lean towards the view there were rewrites to cater to growing the audience, or perhaps it's two ideas married? I'm not sure) so I'm going to think about it more, and there always has been a tension in RWBY between what is being expected/baited and what is foreshadowed/said/actually happens.

I figured out how to write again and what was blocking me, so there's that. To talk about it a bit more, since my break I have worked every single day on writing. My key takeaways are that you need a delicate balance of delusion and self-doubt to get anything done - you don't know you can do something until you actually do it - and every excuse I invented for not writing was not the reason I was not writing. I can write with a migraine beginning to set in on an uncomfortable desk where I can't even rest my elbows properly on the end of a bed with no back support without aircon in the middle of summer before I've even taken my hair out from bedtime plaits in my pyjamas. I didn't even expect to get my fic done right before midnight, actually I was like 'well lol that's not going to happen, I'll write anyway though, fuck New Year's' because I wasn't doing anything, and then I finished and looked at the time and was like ooooh. I actually completed my goal! So I'm very proud of that. Anyway writing is breathing, to me, I go crazy if I don't do it, no matter what it is, and every single piece of nonsense advice of productivity was not helpful, ever, but I did figure it out. Also admittedly I got a fire burning under me again because I found out I was actually right about Raven, in which case I took that as a sign from heaven I was on the right track. One should hope.

I am excited about Dune Part Two, yes, although I am trying to avoid Villeneuve talking about the film because I know all the marketing is basically directed at people who aren't Dune fans, and I have to see it for myself to see what it's worth. I enjoyed the first film, and Villeneuve seems excited to direct Dune Messiah, in which case I am willing to do whatever possible to make that happen. Because that's about as complete a story you're going to get in a major motion picture adaptation and it would be So Fucking Good.

[robotdragonfanatic]

Revisiting my old Immortals Start Aging on Earth due to Oxygen idea

just had some errant thoughts lately so I compiled them, this time more as fic ideas than the research based... thing... I wrote years ago.

Setting the stage:

Death saves Humanity at the Well of Souls. This allows the humans who fled with Fury to procreate again. But it'll take quite a while for them to have any hope of retaking their place in Creation. There's too few of them and they're essentially starting from scratch wherever it is that they landed. Fury is there to help.

Back on Earth:

Years pass. Then decades. At 100 years since the Earth was taken, War slays the Destroyer, but the demon hordes are many. Cleanup takes a while, but they notice something... odd.

Some of the warriors, both angel and demon alike, are slower than they should be. They tire faster. Rumors say Sloth has somehow come back, but without Humanity to corrupt what's the point of it?

Other creatures seem thinner that they ought to be. They don't eat as much anymore though they hoard food just the same.

Vulgrim notes an increase in demand for all sorts of potions and tonics - healing, wrath, vitality and even-

-pain relief.

Within secluded and well hidden encampments, an Angel stares in horror at a reflective surface. In his hand is a hair which lacks its former white sheen.

It is a dull grey.

Another notes his commander's stern face has gained yet another line. They dismiss it as simply the effect of all that frowning. So why do their thoughts return them to the day of arrival- when they'd struck down a similar lined face on a body a fraction of their size?

[boydcrowdr]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @acorrespondence, my lovely mutual and writting buddy, for tagging me <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

6, under beezleebub (more under a secret abandoned account)

What's your total ao3 word count?

131,144 for my current account

What fandoms do you write for?

justified, primarily. with one deadwood fic, and a mcu wip in the works.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"stay with me" is my most kudoed fic <3

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to! i never know what to say cus i'm always so blown away that anyone's reading my shit at all.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i try not to end on a sour note, but i feel like everything i write carries a general blanket of angst through it's narrative

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

probably "stay with me" just cus i was feeling nice that day

Do you get hate on fics?

not these days. i feel like ao3 users have a generally laid back approach to fanfic these days. don't like? exit the tab, easy peasy.

Do you write smut?

no? i have included not overly explicit sex scenes in fics bcus they can be a great tool for emotionally charged moments, good character moments, etc. but nothing crazy.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

never ever. they're not really my thing.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no lol

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nah

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, i'm a control freak

What's your all-time favorite ship?

charles xavier/erik lehnsherr. easy. full stop. don't even have to think about it. there's something about them. something about the 60s/70s. something about two sides of the same coin. something about wanting the same thing but having morally conflicting approaches. i think about magneto every single day of my life since i was 11 years old. next question.

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

"keep it near" had such a choke hold on me. it was born of an offhanded discussion in the justified discord so long ago and a love of southern gothics and detective stories. i still love it sm but idk if i'll ever have the steam to revisit it. maybe when i rewatched true detective s1 it'll just pour outta me tho, who knows.

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue. i think i'm pretty good at back and forths between two characters that are saying something other than what they mean. i enjoy writing dialogue that is more revealing in what isn't being said. p.g. wodehouse also taught me a lot about tone in dialogue and witty back and forths that i really enjoy and think i have a pretty good grasp on writing those sorts of exchanges.

i also like to think i'm pretty good at carrying a tone through a story. giving something a general vibe. usually a haunted angsty vibe but still, it's an energy.

What are your writing weaknesses?

probably so many things. i don't like most of my fics that are up currently (with the exception of "keep it near" and probably "stay with me"), but we're all our worst critics. I feel that i struggle with writing action, motion, etc. i never want a scene that lacks dialogue to come across as "and then," "and then," etc, you know what i mean?

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

iffy. i feel like it can come across as jarring to a reader if they have no idea what they're even looking at. i've included snippets of russian in a wip, which i have been studying for quite a while, but i still fear it might come across as clunky.

First fandom you wrote for?

uhhh... probably batman? or marvel? unless we're counting the self insert assassin's creed fanfic i wrote in 6th grade before i knew what fanfic was.

Favorite fic you've written?

oh probably "keep it near" but by far my unpublished fic i'm working on currently.

don't know who's been tagged yet, but @praycambrian @raylangivins @norgbelulah @eff41 and anyone else who hasn't been tagged yet <3

[spiritsflame]

I haven't seen any fic from you in the last few years and was wonder if you still write? I just revisited "Once More With Feeling" for my annual reread. To me, it is the Perfect Story and I was once again hit in the face with how amazingly talented you are.

Hello! Thank you!!

The short answer is that yes, I do still write (though it really has been awhile). I don't have any fandoms I'm big in right now, so I'm looking for something new to fall in love with, but I've also been revisiting old WIPs and seeing if I can pick them up again.

The slightly longer answer is that I got really, really sick a few years ago, and recovery has been long and slow. It's meant that I just haven't had the energy for things I used to love, like writing. I only recently started being back on Tumblr regularly again.

But while it has been slow, it has also been steady. I've had the energy to care about things again, and the itch to write has been simmering under my skin for weeks, waiting for the right idea. I keep pulling up old stories, picking up the threads where I left off and finding where to start again.

Thank you so much for reaching out and letting me know how much you liked Once More With Feeling; it honestly feels like a sign that it's time to write again, and that when I do, I won't just be shouting into a void. I can't say how much this meant to me!

[catelyngrant]

2, 8, 10, 15 - for the writer asks! XD

2. How many fics did you work on this year? (They don’t have to be finished or published!) Oh man...I have notes and little bits of two paragraphs here, a page or five there, but most of those will never go anywhere and I'm sure I've forgotten most of those ideas already but for knowing that they're in the depths of my Google Drive.

I published 10 (which is way more than usual for me!) and I've worked on/started four that I feel committed to finishing and posting eventually, as well as one more that I'll either write in the next week or watch it disappear into the ether (pretty sure there's not gonna be an in-between option for this one). This has been a year of hyperfixation whiplash, which, combined with ADHD, has had me spiraling all over the place with ideas and then promptly getting distracted and losing the momentum.

8. Did you write for a new fandom or ship this year? You know, I didn't—this was actually the year of me returning to some very, very old roots! I've written and posted my first 24 fic since, Christ, idk...2006? And then my first BSG fic since 2011, my first Doctor Who fic since 2012, and my first Star Trek fic since 2013. I wasn't expecting this but it's been pretty wild and fun! The TNG cast reuniting on Picard and then having David and Catherine back as the Doctor and Donna on Doctor Who were extremely inspiring external factors, but BSG and 24 were basically whims. I signed up for a BSG exchange in honor of the 20 year anniversary because I thought it would be fun to dip my toes back in that pond and then absolutely panicked when I realized I had to actually write BSG fic in the year of 2023, and then I started the 24 fic during a rewatch awhile back and @starg8rocks reminded me of it a few months ago and inspired me to finish it.

So, in short: no new fandoms, but lots of old ones!

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on? I mean, the blood sacrifice (aka the Succession yacht vs. orca crack fic) was pretty entertaining to me personally. I'm also just having so many feelings about Doctor Who deciding that the 2023 message is "rest, recover, and reconnect with all of your friends". So, while it was quite bittersweet and partly the result of me actively rejecting the premise that Sarah Jane Smith is dead in-universe, it was mostly just lovely and cathartic to write what falls away is always and offer two characters I adore a soft, quiet moment of care and connection.

15. Rec a fic you wrote or posted in 2023. The two fics that I agonized over most this year were let your faith die, bring your wonder (BSG, Laura Roslin gen) and we even flew a little (Succession, post-s3 but pre-s4 Roman/Gerri). Between one being in an older fandom and being gen vs. shippy and the other being posted just before season four of Succession started and catapulted the entire fandom, me included, into a new era of fic, I'm not shocked that neither of them got as much love (comparatively) to others I posted this year, but I like them. They're both fics I'm a bit self-conscious about and felt unhappy with when I posted with but I think that's largely because they took so long and stressed me out more than anything else I wrote this year—I liked them more upon revisiting.

my fic from this year send me 2023 fic questions!

[xstarkillerx]

i don't like the dumbed down baby talk either, but also i'm more into light play when it comes to that. like to me what's hot is the power dynamic ig? like someone really getting off on the idea of having so much power over you that they've made you regress to that point. i have a super old fic rec if u want, but it IS harley/joker & it's literally from like. 2012 or some shit idr. but i do like it enough that i go back to it form time to time, all these years later. (if i completely misunderstood u then feel free to tell me to fuck off lmaooo. much love)

Wait you're kind of eating with this anon hod on hold onnnn.

Personally, I kind of grew out of sexual age regression a while ago, it mostly reers its head nonsexually these days but I'm open to revisiting sexual age regression one day with a better understanding of my own expression of it. I just think the fics are generally aimed at people who regress to a younger age than I do, and mayve to a much greater extent. Like you remmber when you were like 12 and wanted to watch jersey shore but you had to watch disney channel because your parents were home, that's how it feels reading ost age regression fics. It's often not a fault of the work itself it's literally me being so annoying and particular and looking for things that I likely have to make myself becauae they wont exist otherwise. I know it's a totalll "what-about-me" moment unfourtunately

But that thing about someone having so much power over you it makes you regress because you're so fucking scared holy shit that's genius and it being HARLEY AND THE JOKER I"VE GOTTA CHECK THIS SHIT OUT!!!!! Because that's another thing I've found, that a lot age regression fics have a pretty light tone to them, they're very happy and playful, or tiptoe around more intense emotions. I think my own age regression is a lot more complicated, often stemming from very a negative place, and I know that's the case for a lot of people too. I've always wanted a fic that captures that.

[uchiha-gaeshi]

10, 13, 18 🙏

Thanks for the ask :)

Just as a warning, I ramble a lot, so be prepared for that. And if you (or anyone else who reads this) want to ask any follow up questions feel free :D

10: What do you enjoy doing in your free time?

Ok, so I've gotten really bad at doing the things I actually want to do in my free time because I usually spend that time thinking of what I want to do but instead scrolling social media. And it's weird too because right now I do have an abnormal amount of free time, but due to certain circumstances I can't really do everything I want with that time. At least with Tumblr, I'm engaging with things I actually like (vs mindlessly scrolling on TikTok).

Now that I've discovered that fandom is a thing, I think I'm trying to make up for all the years in middle/high school where I went "I can't do that, it's too cringe." Now here I am in my early 20s obsessing over Naruto. Idk if 10 year old me would be proud or disappointed...

Embarrassingly, I spend a bit too much time thinking of ideas for my Warring States/Founders era SI/OC fic I thought I was gonna start writing like 3 months ago. Thankfully, as I've let it marinate in my head it just gets better and better (read: crackier and crackier). Maybe if other people ask me about it, I might actually revisit my Google Doc dump and overcome the "he/she/they wouldn't say that" in my head (something something do it scared, tired). I also want to try my hand at drawing, and at least put a solid effort into it before I fully decide to quit haha.

In the past when I had my shit together, I spent a huge chunk of my free time in the gym training with free weights. Like, up until say 1-2 years ago I was a gym rat, and I might get back to that because my mental health was marginally better during those times.

I also spent a lot of that time invested in language learning activities. Back in high school, I spent a lot of time hyperfixating on my Mandarin homework/extra practise while neglecting my other homework (oops...), and that continued a little bit into my first year of university. I also took some classes in Japanese (I took about 4-5 semesters of Japanese), but I'm reeeallly rusty rn.

I'll definitely pick this back up in the near future, because it's lowkey been my dream to be a semi-polyglot. Idk what counts as "polyglot level", but if I get my executive functioning bullshit sorted out, I'd like to be proficient in Mandarin, Japanese, French, and maybe Spanish or German. Oh, also being able to speak Twi (one of the languages in Ghana) would be nice too.

13: Your dream place to visit.

Japan and Taiwan have been on my list of places to travel to since forever. I'd also like to explore other places around Canada (stuck in southern Ontario).

I'd also like to visit Ghana again someday, but mostly just to see long lost relatives and learn more about my culture (there's a whole thing of Ghanaians from abroad flooding back home during Christmas and it seems that locals have...mixed thoughts about that, but that's not really a topic I'm qualified to dive into in depth).

18: Do you like reading? If yes what's your favourite book?

Oof, so I am part of the majority of Americans who has not read (specifically original fiction) in an embarrassingly long time. In terms of original fiction, I really enjoyed what I read from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (was really disappointed to see her parroting terf talking points tho....). I read Americanah way back when and I really liked it. Tbh, reading actual books is on my never-ending to-do list of things I should do.

What I've *actually* been reading these days has been, you guessed it, fanfiction. Honestly, I think what brought me back to my years-long Naruto hyperfixation was some random youtube video/comment talking about fanfiction and AO3. So, me being me (I was going down like 3 rabbitholes at the time I think) I wanted to know more about this AO3 thing, so I explored some of the fics in the Naruto fandom (the first piece of media that came up in my head at the time). To keep a long story from getting any longer, I've been stuck here in this fandom for the past... 5 or so months now.

At the time, I was just reading through any fanfiction I came across, some good, some so-so, and some, in retrospect, pretty bad. But, one of my favourite fics has been Out of Time by Mari_kel (@mira--mira). I have to give it a re-read so that I can properly show my appreciation on the actual fic.

You can look at my AO3 profile for some fics I recommend/have publicly bookmarked (warning: most of them I believe are hashimada. I started getting in the habit of actually bookmarking/commenting once I bumped into that subfandom). Please ignore the unfinished crack multisaku/uchisaku fic under my profile (I don't ship Sakura with any of those characters, it was just something I thought would be funny. Once I actually come around with this writing thing, you'll see that a lot of shit in my fics is there just because I think it would be hilarious).

[radiantlyrey]

Thinkin' 'Bout NaNoWriMo

It's getting to be that time of year again--that time when writers everywhere sit down and ask themselves important questions. Questions like, "Am I doing NaNoWriMo this year?" and "If I am doing NaNo, what am I even gonna write?"

I am planning to do an abridged NaNo this year--probably not more than 20k words for the whole month. (Part of me always wants to shoot for 50k, but the rest of me knows me better than that, and knows that down that path lies horrific burnout, so.) I am having trouble choosing which story I want to work on.

Which brings me to you, Tumblr.

Here are my current story ideas for NaNoWriMo. There are five of them, and I've listed a little summary for almost all of them, along with some personal pros and cons.

Idea #1: Fantasy Titanic This idea came to me in a dream two years ago (no, really). The basic gist is thus: What if Titanic (1997), but instead of a love story, it's a heist story, and also there are elves and magic and shit? The summary:

The grandest cruise ship of the century is setting off on its maiden voyage. Passengers include young Neela, who is crossing the ocean to meet her fiance before their wedding, and Alice, a sorceress and unwilling conwoman/thief whose mother has chosen Neela as their next mark. The con is nearly done when disaster strikes--the ship hits an iceberg and begins to sink. In the chaos that ensues, Alice must make hard choices, not least of which is who she wants to be if she survives.

Pros and Cons: +I already have the first half of the story plotted out. +I already have extensive profiles of my two main characters written.

-I have to do a lot more research on the actual ship and the disaster. -I feel like some of the plot I do have needs to be reworked.

Idea #2: Beauty and the Beast Retelling This story is a rewrite of a story I wrote about 15 years ago in my online writing group. I've been wanting to retackle it for a while now, and I spent some time this past spring making plans for it. I don't have a formal summary for it yet, but.

The story follows the basic shape of the original fairy tale, but with some modernization and fantasy twists. The story is set in the US, and it's set in a world where magic has been gone from the western world for well over a century. Other than that, things are more or less the same: Penniless father of three daughters gets lost on the way home from a trip, ends up at a mysterious and obviously magical mansion. He accidentally offends his host, a monstrous Beast, who demands the father give up one of his daughters to the Beast, or else return himself. The eldest daughter (rather than the youngest) agrees to go in her father's place.

Pros and Cons: +I have almost three-fourths of the story plotted out. +I am eager to revisit this idea and improve on my first attempt.

-I may need to do some more worldbuilding before drafting can begin. -I’m not sure if I have a good grip on my main character yet.

Idea #3: TRON/Pacific Rim Crossover I have had this idea for about five years now, and it's a basic "what if I mashed these two universes together?" style crossover. My concept is a series of fics that follow TRON character Quorra's point of view of the Kaiju War, and her journey towards eventually becoming a Jaeger pilot with Sam Flynn (another TRON character). I've got about five or six of the stories already plotted out, though I don't have much more of a summary.

Pros and Cons: +I know how the next few stories are meant to go. +I am feeling enthusiastic about the story as a whole, and am eager to continue work on it.

-I am kind of blocked on the second story, and have been for a while. -I’m still worried no one’s going to read this thin, so what's the point.

Idea #4: TRON '82 High Fantasy AU Not much to say about this one except that it's very new, but here's a summary:

Chesst styles himself the God-Emperor of the Seven Realms, and has outlawed worship of the old gods. Those who still cling to the ancient ways are consigned to the empire’s gladiatorial arenas, forced to fight to the death in dangerous games. Tron, a former knight-paladin of the realm of Enqor, has spent nearly a year in the arenas, fighting and surviving and keeping his faith alive. The gods have not forsaken him yet, and he knows they will not let Chesst’s blasphemy stand. When an amnesiac prisoner named Flynn arrives at Tron’s arena, Tron and his friend Ram are tasked with preparing him for the games. As Flynn recovers and trains, it becomes clear that he is much stronger than even Tron expected. He has access to a powerful magic that he cannot fully control, even with Tron mentoring him. As the start of the games approaches, Tron can only hope that Flynn’s true power can be concealed long enough for him to control it, and perhaps long enough for the three of them to escape.

Pros and Cons: +It’s a new idea, which means it could spark a lot of creativity. +I think it could be a fun idea to explore at length.

-I’d have to do a ton of worldbuilding to get ready to write it. -I also need to plot the whole thing (or at least part of it), with the original film as a guide.

Idea #5: The Face in the Mirror This is also a new idea and yet another TRON story. Concept came about a post on here about what might happen if one program's disc was put on another program's body. I've billed this one as a horror story; here's the summary:

Metz is having a little trouble with his memory. He remembers… horrible things, things that don’t make sense. He remembers derezzing, or at least, he thinks he does. His best friend and lover, Starr, says that it’s just a packet of bad code that will purge itself in time. She reassures him that he’s fine, and he wants to believe her, but… Sometimes, it’s like someone or something else is inside his body. And every time he sees his reflection, he’s startled by the face staring back at him…

Pros and Cons: +I know the basic shape of the story already. +The plot will probably fit my lower NaNoWriMo goal of 10-20k.

-I have no idea how to write a horror story. -I’m not sure I have enough enthusiasm for this idea right now.

I do not promise to abide by the results of this poll, but I'm interested to see what y'all think of my conundrum.

[artinandwritin]

Tumblr finally gave us the ability to reply as different blogs but we still can't send asks! Oh well lol. For the tag game, what fandom is Importance for and when did you first start working on it? Must be pretty important if you've rewritten the fic 3 times 🤣 (okay I'll see myself out......)

HELP OMIGOSH THAT JOKE ABSOLUTELY CRACKED ME UP

Okay so, I started working on Importance when I was about 11, so 9 years ago. It was a next gen fic based on my favorite book series at the time, the Chronicles of the Kingdom of Fantasy. Unfortunately, it hasn't been translated into English (and probably never will be lmao) so I read the entire thing in Dutch and absolutely loved it.

The book told the story of the elf Ombroso, who went on a Lord of the Rings-esque adventure to save the kingdom he lived in as the chosen one. It was a pretty wholesome story at the time, but when I reread it earlier this year, I was absolutely flabbergasted by the amount of violence (and the drugging of a 13 year old. Yeah, um, that was weird).

As for Importance, as I said, it was a next gen fic! I created a whole bunch of characters (who have changed so, so much over the years) and they're still pretty dear to my heart.

Acacia, Ombroso's daughter, has always been the main character, ever since the first iteration. She has also always, every time I've written her, struggled with perfectionism and not being able to live up to her parents' fame, which is a really fun conflict to create. In return, her dad is protective over her and her siblings, regretting the way he had thrown his own childhood away and not wanting his kids to do the same thing.

I honestly have no idea why this story has been embedded in my brain for so long! It's just one of those things I work on every once in a while and every time I write it again, it just improves on itself. I think i finished it once before, when I was about 12, and since then, I've just revisited and revisited the story over and over again. I'm not certain if it'll ever have a final version, if I'm honest, but I don't think that's the point of Importance.

It's just a way to work on my writing skills and to see my own development in storytelling, and I think that's pretty important too hehe

[ghostlynimbus]

Title: Homecooked

Main Pairing: Harringrove

Rating: T

Tags & Warnings: Billy-centric, Complicated feelings about parents, food, cooking, implied/referenced abuse, Neil Hargrove is mentioned but not present, other tags TBA, Rating May Change

Summary:

Billy hates apologizing almost as much as he hates cooking. So, naturally, he decides to apologize to the people he has hurt with some home cooked food.

AN: This is actually one of my oldest Stranger Things fic ideas, but because I ended up projecting a bit more on to Billy with this than originally planned working on it has been incredibly slow going. It's been nice having it on the WIP poll though, so here is the first 300ish words.

ART: Ihni made some wonderful art a while back inspired by an old post about this idea.

Part 1

Billy hates cooking, but maybe only because he once loved it so much.

His mom was never like… a chef, or anything. Billy never had any delusions about her being the best cook in the whole world or anything stupid like that. And to be honest, his mom didn't actually cook all that much.

But the times that she did, those memories stuck with him. 

Memories of how she would stand beside him in the heat of their narrow little kitchen, teaching him how to make recipes that she herself only half remembered. She always said she’d learned them from some cookbook or another that she had read years ago, and she had a special smile, one with just a hint of mischief to the quirk of her lips, that she would use only when she would make up parts of the recipe that she couldn’t remember. 

She would always hold her breath whenever she let him cut anything, the same way she would when they would go over bridges or through tunnels. For luck, she told him once. 

Billy never worried back then that she thought he’d mess it up and ruin the ingredients, at the time he was confident in the knowledge that she was just worried he might get hurt. 

And when everything was said and done Billy and his mom would go out and sit on the porch. They would watch the seagulls and the passing traffic and they would eat the results of their culinary efforts till they were both stuffed so full they couldn’t stand to take even one more bite. 

Billy has less memories of cooking with his mother than he would like, and the memories he does have have all gone hazy and rose colored with too much time. 

Thinking about them now is a horrible mix of painful and comforting that makes him not want to ever revisit them again, all while simultaneously also making him wish he could climb into the memories and live out the rest of his days there.

So, Billy hates cooking.

[stardustmorozov]

All The Things We Hide In The Dark (part 2)

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader

A Beauty and the Beast AU fic collab between @thatbritishactor and me

Summary:  Chased by Drüskelle and out of options, Reader (You) seeks refuge in the remote Little Palace which is rumored to be haunted by a beast and his ghosts. But he is not the only one who hides dark secrets…

Warnings: None, I think?

Word count: 3661

A/N: It has been quite a while since we posted the first chapter and a lot of things have happend in the mean time. Aside from me being not a very fast writer, some complications have come up in the collaboration, so with her permission I will continue writing this story and posting it here. If there are going to be any changes in this regard either me or @thatbritishactor will tell you guys.

Part 1

The following morning you awoke with more of a start than you'd liked. Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Dreams of a castle appearing only in the silhouette of a lightning flash, wisps and a strange, masked man who could summon the shadows.

The room around you seemed strange, but you were certain you had seen the place before, trying to rack your brain for any clues as to where. Then it dawned on you. Last night had not been a dream. You could feel your stomach drop as you revisited the memory. You had been on the run from the Drüskelle and a storm had guided you to a castle where you had desperately pleaded for shelter. Shaking your head you tried to erase the terrifying image out of your mind with little success.

And then there was the strange man in shadows.

If you were honest with yourself he was terrifying and if it hadn't been for the giant locked door, you would have gladly made your way out of here hours ago at his command. Instead the wisp called Genya had given you your current room.

You knew it was rude to leave your host without saying goodbye, but you had no desire to run into the mysterious, shadow shrouded man again and possibly suffering his wrath for overstaying your welcome, so you moved to one of the windows that looked like it could be opened.

You judged the jump down wouldn't be too far and in the worst case scenario you thought you'd end up with two sprained ankles, but you had survived worse. What you did not expect to happen however, was the fact that the lock of the window suddenly made a clicking sound. As if it had locked itself when your fingers touched it.

But now that you weren't overcome with fear and desperation, you remembered the fact that you had a set of lock picks in the pockets of the dress you had been wearing when you arrived here. A quick search through the pile of fabric yielded the picks and in silent triumph you returned to the locked window.

"Now we'll see who's boss," you muttered under your breath , putting the picks carefully in the lock as you moved them around, moving tumble after tumble in the right place and when the lock finally gave out after a few minutes of trying, you couldn't help but grin. But as you tried to push the window open, it gave resistance and after a few more pushes you heard the lock springing closed again.

You wanted to scold the window for being rude, but the idea of doing such a thing to an environment you didn't even know felt wrong. And it was quite silly now you thought about it.

Stepping down from the windowsill you turned to your old dress, not really feeling like putting on one of the other dresses in the closet when you were going to leave anyway at the first chance you got. And who knew when that might be.

Back in the bathroom where you had shed your clothes the previous evening you decided to get dressed, not exactly feeling up to dressing up in what felt like a living room to you, which just so happened to have a bed.

The fabric was still stiff from all the dirt and filth that clung to it and it made you crawl in your skin, but you reasoned with yourself that you'd get used to it soon enough once you had left this sanctuary.

Your stomach growled as you finished putting on your dress and you turned to unlock the door and the hall appeared to be empty as you stuck your head around the door. Relieved by the fact that the mysterious man in shadows was not nearby, you tried to remember the way Genya had taken you from the kitchen, hoping to find something to still your hunger with, at least for a few hours.

The silence in the halls was deafening and every supposed sound had you on edge, still feeling like an intruder in this strange, luxurious environment.

Soon, the giant staircase of the hall you first entered the castle came into view and with a guilty sort of curiosity, you made your way to the door, gently trying to pry its locks open, but as with the window in the room you'd spent the night, it locked itself again as soon as you had it open.

Feeling slightly defeated, you made your way back up the stairs and towards the kitchen where you found two wisps in conversation, which halted as soon as one of them noticed you in the doorway.

"There you are! I was wondering when you'd wake up," Genya chittered excitedly as she floated over to you taking her somewhat human form again, taking in your appearance.

"Shame I haven't been able to fix your dress though," she mumbled as she turned away again to guide you to the cabinets where the bread and toppings were stashed as you heard a chuckle come from the second wisp in the room.

"Genya darling, always the perfectionist, aren't you?" the wisp chuckled, its voice sounding younger than Genya's and you curiously eyed the shapeless form, before moving over to the cabinets where Genya hovered.

"And you must be our highly esteemed guest then," the voice said to you as you tentatively pulled the bread, toppings and a plate out of the cabinets.

"Highly esteemed?" you snorted as the last of the toppings hit the hardwooden surface of the table, "Has word of my arrival gone around the place that quickly?"

"It is not every day that we get visitors." His tone was playful, but you couldn't help but notice the sadness in his tone. "Anyway, where are my manners? I am Fedyor," Fedyor introduced himself, taking the form of a man you would definitely have fallen for were it not for your circumstances.

"Nice to meet you Fedyor," you said, extending your hand to shake his, before you remembered that he, like Genya, was a wisp and not a physical being, so instead you gave him a polite nod, redirecting your hand to take a piece of bread.

As you ate, you managed to make friendly conversation with both of the wisps before coming onto the topic that brought you to the castle in the first place.

"How long do you plan on staying?" Fedyor asked, causing you to nearly choke on the water you were drinking, eyes darting towards Genya who simply gave you, what you guessed to be a shrug.

"I uhhh… I actually didn't plan on staying at all…." Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, in part of the shame you felt towards admitting it to your host, the other part still scared of the man you encountered the evening before.

"You found the castle," Fedyor argued, "You must have had some reason to come here."

A pitiful chuckle left you as you shook your head, stuffing the last piece of bread into your mouth. "The only reason I came here was because I was on the run. I was looking for shelter and this was the first place I came across."

Even though it was the truth, you felt like you were lying to them. Perhaps it wasn't the entire truth, but it was all they needed to know. For now.

If the castle would truly keep you locked in, you'd have no choice but to stay and maybe, just maybe, you'd have the courage to open up to them one day.

"Who were you being chased by?" Genya asked in a curious tone, just as intrigued by your arrival as Fedyor, even though she did a better job of hiding it.

"Fjerdans," you answered simply, picking up the plate and looking for a sink to put it in, before putting the rest of the food back where it came from.

"So you're Grisha then?"

"I don't see why they would give chase if I weren't."

You guessed they sensed you weren't keen on any more questions about your background, they invited you along to show you around the castle, which you reluctantly accepted, not wanting to run into the mysterious man again. But as the two excited wisps dragged you from corridor to corridor, that fear subsided, more and more, though your curiosity demanded you to find out who he was.

So when they pulled you into what appeared to be an empty corridor, without any doors, you mustered up the courage to ask.

"Genya, who was the man in the shadows? From yesterday?"

"General Kirigan?" Fedyor said, as if he were surprised that you had seen him.

"I think? I've never met someone who could summon the shadows."

"The general is a mysterious man," Genya joked, though you sensed some pain underneath and you wondered why.

Fedyor stayed silent as you progressed through the long hall, seeming too caught up in his own thoughts as he started floating higher and higher.

"Fedyor," Genya snapped and the wisp suddenly seemed aware of his surroundings again, dropping back down to eye level as he came down like he was under the sudden influence of gravity.

"Sorry, I got into my own head," he said quietly to Genya, who gave him a soft smile and you noticed you had arrived in one of the bigger halls of the castle, admiring the grand works of art displayed on the walls and the craftful chandeliers suspended from the ceiling.

Even though you had seen multiple of these halls already, they never seemed to fail to take your breath away as you tried to make out every detail in the paintings and all the different shapes of glass worked into the heavy chandeliers above you.

You could hear Fedyor say something in a teasing tone, but you were too busy to actually notice as Genya playfully responded.

"I still can't believe you live here," you said as you spinned around to take it all in.

"You should've seen it when there were still people here, that was truly a sight to behold," Fedyor said wistfully as he and Genya started to reminisce about old times.

"Oh yes, and the Fete, that was truly something else."

As Fedyor and Genya drift off in old memories, you wandered off to a smaller room that was directly adjacent to the hall that looked to be a lounge as your hand trailed over the back of one of the velvet couches, while story high windows made up the outer wall with half sheer curtains in front of them.

On the other side of the room there was a huge fireplace, though whatever fire had been burning in it was extinguished a long time ago. The windows looked out over a giant garden, though the only greenery that was visible were the fern bushes as the rest of the plants had lost their leaves or had sought their refuge underground as the bright colors of the forest that laid beyond the garden broders heralded the new season.

"I thought I told you to leave." The cold and threatening voice of the general ripped you out of your thoughts, your gaze snapping to where he stood only a few feet away from you as his shadows swirled menacingly around him, slowly filling the room.

The feeling of every bit of blood leaving your face for other places had you frozen where you stood and for a few moments you were too shocked to do anything, but you refused to let him know how scared you truly were as you mustered up the courage to stand up for yourself.

"Believe me, I gladly would have. If every way out didn't keep shutting itself right in front of my face." You could only hope your voice didn't tremble as the words left your lips, silently bracing yourself for what might come now that you defied him and the anxiety and fear you had felt when you first met him was back in full force, but you refused to move. You wouldn't be intimidated like this a second time, but it was hard as the darkness around you kept getting thicker and the man that seemed to be the source of it all took a few steps closer to you.

"People don't arrive here by accident. What brought you here?"

"Drüskelle," you answered simply, not trusting yourself to say any more words than you thought strictly necessary, "they've been chasing me from Kribirsk to here." You could see his shadows recoil and stir fearfully, though you didn't understand why. He was terrifying enough that you were sure that just the presence of too many shadows would send even the most hardened Drüskelle running for the hills.

"The Little Palace was made to be a safe place for all Grisha, so stay as long as you need. But I hope for you, you're telling the truth. I do not take kindly to being lied to."

As he spoke, the shadows dispersed as the grave tone in his voice seemed to calm them, only for them to get thicker and thicker until you were sure you could feel them if you were to move your hand through them when he made it clear that he had no good intentions for those who tried to deceive him.

You couldn't find it in yourself to speak up again, the grateful words dying on the tip of your tongue as fear had you still frozen in your place. Your body stiffened as he brushed past you, the shadows cold against your skin as they furled over you like windcurrents.

Your mind raced with thoughts of how lucky you were. That maybe the saints had watched over you in this moment as they had granted you the dumb luck to still stand.

"There you are! We almost lost you." Genya's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and the adrenaline that had kept you from moving finally released its grip on your body. "Come on, let's get out of here. We've got much more to show you." As she spoke, her humanoid form returned, but you barely had the energy to care that she was not human.

You didn't look back as you walked out of the room, closely sticking to the sides of the wisps that accompanied you and showed you more of the Little Palace, though the curiosity they had felt at the beginning of the tour had mostly been beaten out of you by your unexpected meeting with the general.

By the time you arrived back at the room Genya had given you the previous evening you just wanted to be alone. After you'd given them your thanks for showing you the palace, you simply collapsed face first onto the bed.

Genya and Fedyor had been beyond kind to you and you couldn't say you weren't grateful for that, but the man they called general Kirigan terrified you and the lockpicks were starting to feel like an attractive option again.

You'd almost completely forgotten about them when you were with Fedyor and Genya, but now that you were alone, it didn't seem so bad of an option, despite what had happened that morning. And like you had done a million times before, you fished them out of their place and slowly worked the lock again, the satisfying click of it being opened not coming nearly as soon as you'd like, but when it did, you were careful not to pull them out in the hopes of preventing the faulty mechanisms from locking themselves again.

As you pushed at the glass however, the frames didn't budge under your weight and you cursed under your breath.

"Let me out, dammit!" you cried out in frustration as you hit the glass, hoping it would finally be the push that was needed, but to no avail.

Defeated, you curled up against the bed, your back resting against the side of the mattress as you realised you were truly stuck here. You had little hope for trying the heavy front doors again and now that you thought about it, you wondered how you'd gotten in in the first place.

What little strength you still possessed that evening would not nearly have been enough to open the heavy doors that guarded the Little Palace and for a brief moment you considered that the palace had its own mind, but you quickly dismissed the notion. Wisps you could believe, but a building with a mind of its own was too far fetched of an idea. Even in a world where Durasts existed.

You drifted in and out of sleep as the exhaustion of being on the run for days caught up to you again and the adrenaline from your sudden meeting with the general finally subsided. By the time you could keep yourself awake without immediately wanting to doze off again, your stomach was begging for food. You contemplated simply staying in this room, ignoring the growling of your stomach and simply hoping it would go over.

After a few minutes however you decided to throw that idea out of the window and cautiously made your way to the kitchen. You knew you were not welcome here, despite what the general had said about the palace being a safe place for Grisha and Genya and Fedyor doing their best to make you feel comfortable.

The kitchen was quiet when you opened the door. The bleak light of the last stretches of sun lit the cold room and the deafening silence that hung in the room only amplified the feeling that you were more of an intruder than a guest.

You called out for Genya. The echo of your own voice startled you and the silence in the room reminded you of how utterly alone you really were. Lost and trapped with no one to look for you. Or to mourn when you would inevitably leave this world.

You rummaged through the cabinets, hoping to find something else than bread. The sound of the closing doors closing was nearly deafening.

As you systematically moved through the kitchen, you got the strange sense that someone was watching you, the burning feeling in your upper back making you itch to turn around and see if there was actually someone there.

When you couldn't find anything that didn't need preparation before you could eat it, you went to the place where you remembered the bread being stored.

"I see you have made yourself familiar with the kitchen already."

For the second time in a few hours the general had managed to scare the living daylights out of you and you nearly dropped the plate you were holding, the porcelain landing rather loudly on the hardwooden table.

"Do you make a habit out of scaring the life out of your guests?" Despite how shocked you are, a teasing tone slips by you as you watch his shadows swirl and spike at your words.

"I try not to."

The next few minutes are spent in silence as you finish setting the table. You consider setting a plate for the general as well, but with his masked face and the shadows that shrouded him it was hard to read him.

Deciding you didn't want to come off as rude, you put down a second plate, even if he wasn't actually hungry, you couldn't say you hadn't cared.

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, only distrubed by a soft whooshing sound that seemed to come from the shadows that surrounded the general and the occasional clinking of cutlery against porcelain.

"It seems you have already met Fedyor and Genya, but I can imagine you have a lot of questions."

The sound of his voice had you stop eating, swallowing the large bite of bread and ham before answering him.

"How long has this place existed? I thought it was just a fairytale."

"It has indeed existed longer than most people remember, but if memory serves me right, the building of it started a couple of decades after the appearance of the Fold. Construction finished about fifty years later. Since then, Grisha from all over the world have sought their refuge here." His tone left little room for discussion but it made you all the more curious as to why the palace seemed so abandoned. If people indeed used to seek sanctuary here, what had made them stop coming?

"Have the wisps always been here as well?" The flaring of his shadows told you'd struck a nerve and the silence that followed almost made you regret asking in the first place.

"It... depends on how you look at it. Yes they have always been here, but they didn't always exist."

"Cryptic," you chuckled as you stuffed another piece of bread into your mouth. "But how did they come into existence then? I can't imagine it happening out of nowhere." The already dark kitchen was further plunged into darkness as the shadows crawled in thick layers over the walls and windows and you had to fight the urge to summon your light. To drive away the darkness and provide yourself with a sense of safety. Not when you didn't know if the man in front of you would reject you for your strange powers, even if his seemed just as odd as yours so you kept your hands on the slice of bread in your hands. The soft dough flattening between your fingers.

The only thing that told you that he left was the sound of his boots on the tiles of the kitchen stairs and them fading down the long hall of which you'd already forgotten where it led to, the shadows that hung in the kitchen following him a few minutes later.

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