#but pre taking a break from the fandom I remember it was always something I’d think about

[1960z]

she’s so cute

[daddy-dins-girl]

Safe for Tonight (Chapter 1)

Part 2 of the Series "Joel & Tess: Firsts" (can be read as a stand-alone without part 1, all you need to know for part 1 is that it was the first time Joel and Tess hooked up. This work takes place a few months later). If you'd like to read part 1 of the series, link is below :)

Masterlist

AO3 link A03 series link

Series Part 1: "When You Break"

Chapter 2

Joel Miller x Tess

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO) Word Count: 3.7k Rating: E (for chapter 2 only)

Summary: In which Frank convinces Tess for her and Joel to spend the night during their first visit to Lincoln. Tess attempts to capitalize on the fact that she and Joel are safe for once, no immediate threats lingering around every corner and just maybe she can persuade him to relax. When the evening nears its end and they find themselves alone in Bill's spare bedroom, Tess begins to wonder just what else she might persuade Joel into.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Alcohol consumption. Swearing. Mentioned sex. Chapter 2 will have further warnings. Chap 1 is pretty mild.

Notes: Take place pre-series. Sometime after Tommy left them to join the Fireflies but before Tess has moved in with Joel. Also, it's my headcanon that the QZ gives out birth control to, you guessed it, control the population. So my Tess in this universe will not be having any pregnancy scares ;).

...

The moment they passed the threshold of the front door and stepped inside Frank immediately smacked Tess’s arm playfully, yet sharp enough to sting.

“Ow! What was that for?” Tess asked with a huff, rubbing a hand up and down her upper arm.

“You didn’t tell me Joel was drop dead gorgeous!” Frank said excitedly, his grin from ear to ear. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me!”

Tess side eyed him for a long moment before she burst into a fit of laughter and Frank quickly followed suit, the two of them reaching to hold onto each other as they nearly fell over from laughter. The wine that had been freely flowing over dinner likely had something to do with how silly the whole situation seemed to her. Tess felt like a teenage girl in high school all of a sudden, gossiping over the cute boy in their class and she hadn’t remembered when she’d laughed so hard that her stomach hurt.

“A little warning next time before you bring an Adonis over to a couple of old gay dudes house, we’re liable to have a heart attack and keel over you know” Frank admonished playfully once they’d caught their breaths.

“Shut up” Tess replied giggling, lightly shoving at his shoulder.

“Ok but seriously…” Frank began before raising an eyebrow at her suggestively. “Nice pull Tess”

“Well, thanks but he ain’t exactly mine” Tess shrugged and Frank’s face fell slightly.

“Oh, I mean, I don’t know the way you always talked about the two of you I guess I just kinda thought…” He trailed off, not finishing his thought.

“We’re partners, you know, but Joel is… well, Joel’s… Joel.”

“Right, well, glad we cleared that up. ‘Cause I’d hate for you to be ambiguous” Frank deadpanned and Tess rolled her eyes.

“You seriously never hit that?” Frank questioned again, pointing in the general direction behind them where Joel and Bill were still outside finishing eating their dinner. “Two gorgeous single people spending everyday together, and you’re not fucking? I knew I never understood straight people” he finished his thought with a shake of his head.

Tess’s eyes glanced away and her non-response was all Frank needed before he let out a loud gasp.

“I knew it!” He shouted triumphantly and it was Tess’s turn to smack Frank.

“Hey, keep it down” Tess said in a hushed whisper, looking over to the closed door. She was pretty certain neither of the two men outside could hear them, but she wasn’t about to chance it either.

“Ok, ok. I wanna hear the whole story” Frank said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He grabbed Tess by the hand and all but dragged her into the living room and yanked her down to sit next to him on the couch. “Come on, spill!”

“Really Frank, ain’t much to tell” Tess said, the disappointment evident in her tone. “Couple months ago we literally almost died, got back to his apartment and fucked our brains out. Once. And… that’s it, end of story. Business as usual ever since”

Frank just stared at her as if she had two heads.

“Why?” he finally asked, his tone less playful now and more confused.

“Because, I don’t know, Joel is…” Tess shook her head, the thought unfinished.

“Joel is Joel. Right, we covered that already” Frank said teasingly and a small smirk pulled at the corner of Tess’s mouth but she nudged him in the side all the same.

“He doesn’t… feel that way about me” Tess shrugged.

“Feel what way?” Frank asked, genuinely interested, his head tilted slightly waiting for her reply.

“I don’t know just… Joel is never gonna be like a boyfriend, or whatever”

“But you want him to be” Frank quickly interjected and Tess’s gaze snapped to his, surprised how quickly Frank seemed to have figured her out.

“I’m not twelve Frank, I don’t need a boyfriend” Tess argued, feigning nonchalance.

“A partner then” Frank said simply in reply. “And I don’t mean a business partner”

“Yeah well, Joel’s not ever gonna be that either. The first one, I mean” Tess said, her gaze falling to the space between them on the couch where her hand started fidgeting with a loose thread in the fabric.

“He’s said that to you?” Frank asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Didn’t have to” Tess just shrugged. ”It’s complicated. He’s complicated” she amended.

“Ok so you have mind blowing sex and then the next day it’s just what ‘hey let’s divvy up the ration cards from last week's score’?” Frank asked, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. Tess couldn’t blame him, she hadn’t exactly figured it out either.

“Look Frank I don’t know what to tell you, we were just… blowin’ off steam” Tess said with a shrug, hoping he’d buy it and leave it at that.

“Tess I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I feel like we’ve become friends and I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt”

“Joel would never hurt me,” Tess said immediately. Vehemently.

“Well, maybe not intentionally,” Frank replied softly, placing a hand on her arm.

"Look it's not like I'm trying to get married and run off into the sunset" Tess said, shaking her head as she looked away. "But you know, a warm body next to you at night, somebody to wake up to, it ain't exactly the worst thing"

"Yeah" Frank agreed softly. He wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't known Tess all that long, they'd been communicating over the radio for a while but this was their first time meeting in person. He did genuinely care for her though and he wanted her to be happy. He didn't love how happiness for her might mean not being completely fulfilled because she wanted things Joel couldn't give her but she'd settle for what he could. Though he supposed they all did that in some way. He and Bill had compromised themselves in a lot of ways and had both settled for things that in another life (before) they may not have. He was happy though. What Bill was able and willing to give him made Frank happy, so he supposed maybe that's what happiness would look like for Tess too.

A long silence settled over them until finally Frank spoke again.

“Look maybe… He does want something and he just doesn’t know how to say it or ask for it. Have you tried? Since, you know…”

“No” Tess shook her head.

“Stay here tonight” Frank said suddenly, like a lightbulb had just gone off inside his head and Tess stared at him quizzically.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s already getting kinda late, you guys have been drinking, don’t worry I’ll make a good case to convince both Bill and Joel it’s the best idea. And you guys can spend the night here where it’s safe and quiet and you can just talk and… well, you know, anything else you might want to do” Frank finished suggestively and Tess’s eyes widened at his suggestion.

“In your house, are you crazy?” Tess huffed, shaking her head.

“Oh come on, we’re all adults. Not to mention our bedroom is on the ground floor at the back of the house, you two would be in the guest room at the top floor at the front of the house so we’re not gonna hear anything anyway”

“Frank” Tess sighed, exasperated.

“Just… you know, try it. Make a pass, see what happens. Whether you want him to be your boyfriend or just help you forget about your problems for one more night, either way you’ll never get either until you put yourself out there it sounds like”

“Come on,” Frank began again suddenly, standing up from the couch and clapping his hands together once. “Let’s go tell the boys you two are staying here tonight. Bill is going to shit a brick, it’ll be hilarious, you’ll want a front row seat”

Tess rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but be amused by Frank. Agreeing, she stood up and followed him out of the house.

…

It was indeed hilarious to watch their reactions, particularly Bill’s. If he was a cartoon character, there would have been steam billowing out both his ears for certain. Joel had been much more subdued, though just as steadfastly against the idea as Bill. He quietly tugged Tess aside by the elbow and in a harsh whisper told her all the reasons why it wasn’t a good idea but she’d eventually managed to convince him otherwise.

Bill and Joel had exchanged looks, silently agreeing they both disagreed with the scenario but their respective partners had apparently decided for them and left no room for argument and so barely an hour later Joel and Tess found themselves being shown to the upstairs guest room by an overly gracious Frank and a quietly furious Bill.

“And towels and robes in the bathroom and extra blankets in the hall closet, if you need ‘em” Frank said with an easy smile as he finished giving them the tour of the guest bedroom and ensuite.

“Bill and I are on the main floor and I’d say holler if you need us but… we’d never hear it” Frank said with a dismissive wave of his hand and knowing glance at Tess to which she just rolled her eyes at, facing away from Joel so that he was otherwise oblivious to Frank’s innuendo. “So if you do need something, just come down to our room and let us know” he finished, only for Bill to immediately pipe up.

“Or you could wait until morning and not wake anybody up in the middle of the night” he said grouchily.

“We’ll be fine,” Joel said with finality, still less than impressed that Tess had somehow roped him into this. It was probably the third bottle of wine that softened him enough to eventually agree with her.

“Right well… goodnight then” Frank said with a beaming smile before lightly shoving Bill out of the room.

“Good night, thanks again!” Tess called out after them as the door closed, sealing her and Joel inside alone.

She turned to face Joel, his back stiff, shoulders squared and she playfully rolled her eyes at him.

“You need to relax Texas” she said sweetly, walking up to him to place a hand on each of his shoulders and jostled him slightly in an attempt to loosen his stance.

“Tell you what,” she began again a moment later, looking over to the bathroom that had its door wide open. “I haven’t had a hot bath in at least a decade and I’m bettin’ it’s about the same for you… Why don’t you, y��know… join me for one” She suggested simply, shrugging one shoulder.

“A bath?” Joel questioned, one eyebrow cocked as if she’d just said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“Joel, we’re safe here. For once in our goddamn lives there is no immediate threat to our safety. Can’t you just… let yourself go, for one night?”

Joel sighed, hung his head and placed his hands on his hips.

“Why don’t you go on,” Joel gestured his head towards the bathroom. “I cleaned up before dinner anyway and I’d rather shower in the morning ‘fore we head out for the day”

Tess deflated slightly, a frown crossing her features. “You sure?” she tried one last time.

“Yeah. Hell, if I try and crawl into a tub these old bones are liable never to make it back out again” he attempted jokingly but Tess only felt disappointment, though trying her best not to let it show.

“Okay” she sighed, turning away and going into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

Joel watched her disappear from view behind the white wooden door and hung his head, seemingly frozen to his spot on the floor. He felt a bit like a jackass. She was trying to be nice to him. Sweet, even, and he refused to let his guard down, ever stubborn as always.

Hell he’d just turned down a chance to get naked with Tess because he can’t turn off his survival instincts for even one night, apparently. Not that she had really implied anything with her offer to allow him to join her but surely she wasn’t opposed to the idea either otherwise she wouldn’t have asked… Right?

Joel’s thoughts tumbled around his brain that was already really only working at about half capacity given the amount of alcohol flowing through his bloodstream. He was already beating himself up over getting into this state in the first place. Not that he was drunk, mind you, but buzzed certainly. Once Bill had put the gun away that had been subtly trained on Joel for most of the afternoon Joel did finally feel himself starting to ease and the wine continued to flow as their evening progressed. He listened to Tess and Frank laugh and laugh as they chatted like they were the oldest of friends and a smile tugged at his lips. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d heard Tess laugh like that. He’s not even sure he ever had.

He and Bill mostly talked shop. They talked of guns and traps and the resources Bill had seemed to maintain despite the state of the world. It was impressive, Joel had to admit. And for that, Bill had his respect and by the end of the night, he felt that maybe he (albeit begrudgingly) had Bill’s as well.

His mind wandered to Tess again, as he glanced over to the still closed bathroom door. The water had long since been turned off and she was still soaking in the tub, he could tell by the occasional slosh of water he could hear when she moved. He bit his lip, cursing his own stubbornness to not accept her offer. She was right, they were safe here, for the night at least. She was happy and free and he had to try and stomp all over her good mood. Just because he was miserable all the time didn’t mean he needed to drag her down with him but he had done exactly that and he immediately felt guilty for it.

He wandered around the room for a couple minutes, getting himself ready for bed and ultimately deciding on a way to make it up to her. Hoping against hope that she would still want him to.

…

Once her fingers had started to prune and the water had gone from near scalding to a tepid lukewarm, Tess reluctantly pulled herself out of the bathtub. It had been so nice to close her eyes, soak in the hot water and just pretend nothing outside of her small serene environment inside the bathroom existed. It had taken her some time at first to get her mind to drift from Joel, but she had managed.

Frank certainly couldn’t tell her now that she hadn’t tried. She let herself be vulnerable and had asked him to join her and he had shot her down without a second of hesitation. She shouldn’t have been all that surprised but regardless it had hurt, being rejected by him. She’d been so careful over the past several months since their first (and only) indiscretion to not act differently around him, not wanting to scare him away. Joel was the only person she could count on and until she met Frank, her only friend. She wouldn’t risk losing him over the feelings she had for him that he didn’t reciprocate. It wasn’t worth it.

She knew, in the way he treated her, cared for her, protected her, that he did love her as much as he was capable of, it just wasn’t the same way she loved him. But she could be OK with that, she had decided long ago. Still, she had a physical desire for him that she’d hoped he shared, even if their relationship otherwise was likely to remain unchanged. Tonight however had solidified to her that the fleeting night of passion they’d had all those months ago was apparently a one time thing and she would have to just get over it. It was at that moment she wished she could be more like Joel; just closed off to everyone and everything. Don’t get attached and you can’t get hurt.

For Tess, it was too late.

As she finished drying off Tess immediately cursed herself when she realized she didn’t bring any clean clothes into the bathroom with her. All she had was the clothes she had been wearing all day, had been traveling in, and after spending the last half hour getting clean there was just no way in hell she was putting any of that on again. She was thankful at least for the fluffy white robe that hung on the back of the door and put it on, tying the sash around her waist before tossing her damp towel into a small hamper that sat against the wall opposite the sink.

Heaving a heavy sigh and inwardly hoping that Joel would already be fast asleep so she didn’t have to be running around their shared room in only a bathrobe trying to find something to wear, she pushed open the door to reveal Joel across the room from her, sitting upright in the bed and staring right at her.

Well, shit.

“Oh, hey, thought you would’ve been asleep already” she tried for indifference, hoping he didn’t sense her nervousness. There was a small lamp on the bedside table beside him that illuminated him in a warm light in the otherwise darkened bedroom but it certainly wasn’t dark enough that he couldn’t see her in her bathrobe. She willed herself to relax as she instantly felt herself tense up again.

“Was waiting up for you” he answered simply and she gave him a questioning glance but otherwise said nothing.

“C’mere” he said after a few long seconds stretched between them, gesturing with a nod of his head for her to come over to him.

Tess bit her lip and regarded him carefully from where she still stood just barely outside the bathroom.

“What are you upto Texas?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as she slowly made her way toward his side of the bed he was laying in. He was lying on top of the bedspread, back up against the headboard with a pillow behind him and was wearing black sweatpants with no shirt and damn he looked good.

Snap out of it Tess! she chided herself.

She came to stand next to him at the side of the bed, still unsure what exactly he had summoned her over to him for when he moved his leg closest to her up so it was bent at his knee and gestured with his hand for her to sit down. She eyed him curiously for a long moment before she finally sat in the spot where his leg had been, still unsure just what in the hell was going on.

The moment she sat down she felt his arm go around her waist and tug her towards him, forcing her legs up onto the bed and she let out a gasp of surprise until her back hit the hard wall of his chest. Her legs were now laying on the bed between his and he lowered his raised one back down.

“Joel, what-” She didn’t finish her sentence before she felt strong hands on her shoulders, over top of the plush material of her bathrobe and as they started massaging, an involuntary moan escaped her mouth despite herself.

“Just helping you relax” he said easily and she huffed a laugh in return.

“I said you had to relax! Not me. I just got out of the bath”

“Then why do you feel so tense?” He asked and she winced. She had felt great, up until 2 minutes ago when she walked into the room and found him half naked not asleep and herself fully naked under her robe, internally screaming for an escape. She felt so embarrassed about, in her mind, practically throwing herself at him earlier and him rebuffing, she just wanted to crawl under the covers and forget the night ever happened.

Damn Frank for putting ideas in her head.

“I’m sorry” he said eventually in a low voice, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck as he continued to work his hands into her.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being… well, me” He said simply and she could feel him shrug behind her.

“I know I can be a miserable old bastard” He decided to continue. “You were doing something nice, for us, and I just can’t help but be a damn stick in the mud and ruin your night”

Tess sighed, hating that he felt guilty. “You didn’t ruin anything” she tried, smacking lightly at his leg next to hers.

“I did” he said firmly. “So, let me make it up to you. Please?” His hands stopped their movements then but remained on her shoulders, apparently awaiting her go-ahead.

Well, how could she refuse?

“Get to work then, you miserable old bastard” she said teasingly, throwing his own words back at him and he chuckled from behind her before his strong hands began kneading into the deep tissue of her shoulders again. Tess rolled her neck slightly and hummed her approval. She didn’t know what had come over Joel, but she wasn’t about to question it either as his hands worked their magic over her. Her only regret now was the thick amount of terry cloth that separated his hands from her bare flesh that suddenly felt warm at the idea of his hands potentially slipping underneath the material to touch her as she longed for him to.

Luckily for Tess, she didn’t have to wait long for Joel to do just that.

Next Chapter

[jaskiersvalley]

Ok so this is an idea that's been plaguing me but couldn't find it in fic anywhere. Feel free to not write it btw, I just had to share it with SOMEONE. Anyway, imagine a de-aging curse that wears off gradually and in the process, the cursed individual gets older. Like, aging years in a night while staying mostly the same during the day. Imagine the angst potential of Jaskier meeting a pre-Blaviken Geralt who's chatty as fuck. Imagine him meeting Geralt who's just heard of the sacking of KM.

You. I love the way you think. Because this is an idea that I had been toying with about three fandoms ago but wasn’t writing at that point so it never came to anything. Now you come along and reignite the spark. Thank you for the excuse to write it!

CW for injury and past abuse (of the witcher trials kind)

If Only Every Day Was A Birthday

In the grand scheme of things, it was a dumb as fuck thing to do. A ring of toadstools had cropped up on the doorstep of Kaer Morhen one winter morning. Naturally, it was Jaskier who found it and decided that this was within his skill set to deal with, primarily in the form of charming the fae with his songs, charm and overall delightful existence. Even worse, it worked. The witchers watched him chatter away with their less than desirable guests, filling a whole morning with stories, songs, poetry and even a few cruder jokes. In the end, Jaskier talked about birthdays and how sad he was for his witchers that they had forgotten when theirs should be celebrated.

“We wish to reward you for your time,” the fae crooned, getting ready to leave.

“Oh thank you but I couldn’t possibly accept. I have everything I need to make me happy right here.” Jaskier shot Geralt a soft glance.

“Very well. Your reward can be transferred. May the birthdays be as good as you described.” Just like that, the fae melted back into their realm and the toadstools withered.

Looking around, nothing had changed so Jaskier shrugged. Maybe the fae were mistaken or their reward was something like a cake being delivered on a certain day. Cake was always good, Jaskier hoped it would be chocolate. If only the gift had been a simple cake. Nobody was any wiser until the next morning.

“What the fuck?!” Lambert’s shriek was heard throughout the keep and everyone rushed to him in a panic.

In the hall where they had a tendency to gather after dinner, there was a child sleeping in Geralt’s chair. The very chair he had fallen asleep on in fact.

“Where’s Geralt?” Jaskier asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

The child stirred and blinked sleepily up at the men peering down at him. Brown eyes, brown hair but the features were familiar despite the changes.

“Fuck.”

Child Geralt was chatty as anything. He happily followed them all around, was inquisitive and playful. Jaskier watched him beg Eskel to throw him in the air again or for Lambert to spin him. Even Vesemir was approached with a request to read him a story for an afternoon nap. Maybe the fae were onto something, Geralt had needed a break from everything and if this gave him a chance to enjoy life, Jaskier wouldn’t dream of begrudging him a few days.

Only, it wasn’t just a few days. It was all fine for the first few days. Eskel especially seemed happy to dote on Geralt, carried him around on his hip and even showing him how to cook things in the kitchen. Truthfully, Jaskier was a little enamoured, especially when he walked into the kitchen to see Eskel had Geralt sat on the counter, a whisk clutched in tiny hands as it was licked clean diligently.

If only things could have been so simple. Nobody expected Geralt to wake up on the third morning in tears, crying out for his “mama” and rushing around the keep, trying to find her.

“It took him a while to settle here,” Vesemir said sadly. “He was loyal from a young age.”

Each day, Geralt changed a little, grew older. A tension settled around the witchers that Jaskier just didn’t understand. On the whole, after that one day of Geralt tearfully looking for Visenna, he seemed to settle. A little quieter but still bright eyed and eager to please.

Then Geralt woke up with a black eye, a gash across his arm and looking generally miserable.

“Training.” That was all Lambert had managed to grit out before he stormed out. “Means he’s about eight.”

A birthday a day. Jaskier swallowed at the realisation and the knowledge that it was his fault. He watched from the sidelines as Eskel patched Geralt up, brought in a cloth packed with snow to put over the bruising. In a way, Jaskier envied Lambert and the fact he could just storm off to deal with his emotions. It wasn’t a luxury Jaskier was afforded. This was all his doing and he wasn’t a coward to run from his mess.

The next day the bruising and the cut were gone. However Geralt was timid, especially around Vesemir, kept his eyes to the ground. The only one who could coax a smile from him was Eskel. Not even Jaskier’s singing and attempts to pull Geralt into activities seemed to do much. That night, Geralt went to bed and the others sat in a heavy silence around the hearth.

“He’s what, 10 tomorrow?” At least Lambert had come back but he was no less agitated. If anything, he seemed to avoid Geralt at all costs. “I really hope this spell wears off tomorrow.”

The spell didn’t wear off. A bloodcurdling scream signalled the fact Geralt was awake. As one, the witchers were rushing to the room he had been given considering he didn’t remember his own and Jaskier couldn’t face leaving what had been their shared room.

“Don’t go in,” Lambert had warned but it was too late. Jaskier had peered into the room and blanched. There was blood. So much blood. Eskel was sat on the edge of the bed, holding Geralt down who was crying red tears, fingers flexing, trying to fight off the grip so he could claw at his own face. A foot caught Eskel in the ribs and he grunted but didn’t let go of Geralt.

There was hope in Jaskier that maybe the pain would last maybe a few minutes. At worse, an hour. He was proven wrong when the gurgle screams and cries lasted into the afternoon. Not once did Eskel leave him. It was only as midnight came that silence fell across Kaer Morhen once again. That night, Jaskier stayed outside Geralt’s room, the sheets had been freshly changed from filth sodden to something cleaner. The Lambert had dragged Eskel to his room and Jaskier was grateful he didn’t have witcher hearing. Even his human ones could pick up on the dry sobs coming from the room.

In the morning, a yellow eyed but still brown hairs Geralt greeted them with his arm in a sling. As Jaskier made conversation with him, he could hear Vesemir’s murmur of “one down, four to go” and that was the most chilling thing Jaskier had heard.

Sure enough the next day was more choking screams. Eskel looked haggard and they didn’t even snap at Jaskier to get out. Even though Vesemir tried to give Geralt potions to numb him or even knock him out, they didn’t seem to work. Three days of torture. On the second day Eskel barked at Lambert to take over and he hurried out. Each night found not just Lambert and Eskel curled up but Vesemir and Jaskier also ended up in the pile. It wasn’t a pile borne of good moods and love though. Some nights Jaskier watched the witchers, they all looked lost in their own heads, hollow and haunted. It wasn’t a good look on any of them.

White hair on a young teenager looked odd. But Geralt didn’t seem too fazed by it, he looked almost proud when he next woke up coherent. He was also a lot more inclined to tussle with Lambert and Eskel, gleeful in their battles. Even when he woke up with broken bones, on one memorable morning a locked jaw, he still seemed in good spirits. On the surface, the others were too but more than once Jaskier had walked in on Lambert and Eskel looking downtrodden.

“I’d forgotten how bright he was,” Vesemir said, leaning against the wall next to Jaskier while the others were engaged in some kind of strange wrestling that seemed to end up with Lambert and Geralt teaming up against Eskel and tickling him until he was on his knees and laughing while begging for mercy. “The Path had not been kind to him.”

It was an understatement. Watching Geralt grow up and become a witcher was difficult enough. To see him each year, sometimes cocky and sometimes lean with a spark of fury burning through him was fascinating. Until he woke up sullen and quiet. Still a young man but so much more like what Jaskier knew.

“I should have been there,” Geralt murmured and looked at the other witchers. “We’re all that’s left.”

That evening was somber, Geralt leaning heavily against Lambert’s shoulder as they drank.

“It doesn’t get easier,” Lambert murmured darkly. “But you learn to live with it.”

The next day Geralt seemed better but the others were clearly suffering, unable to shake everything that each of Geralt’s birthdays was bringing up. And just when Jaskier thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

Things had been going vaguely okay in their own way. Injuries, aches and pains came and went. Until Geralt woke up and didn’t get out of bed. He was scarily thin, looking worn and in pain on a level beyond physical.

“Renfri,” Eskel had muttered and, without another word, slipped into Geralt’s bed, curled up behind him.

“The year the whole Butcher of Blaviken shit went down, Geralt didn’t come home for winter. Never did tell us where he went or what happened.” Lambert cast a look into the room where Eskel was holding a shaking Geralt. In the end, Vesemir brought them up food and drinks, a second serving for Geralt when he saw how emaciated he was. Everyone ended up curled together in Geralt’s bed that night, quietly grateful that Geralt did actually come back from that disaster.

Not that the next several days were much better. Gone was the cocky, confident Geralt. In his place was a ghost. He ate, he replied is spoken to but stayed out of the way. Lambert was the one to track him down to any hiding place and try to forcibly draw Geralt out.

“It’s what I wish I had done all those winters,” he admitted quietly in the dark one night.

When Geralt laughed about a week later, Vesemir looked ready to cry. He hurriedly excused himself to the kitchen and Jaskier followed.

“He’ll be back to his usual soon,” Vesemir said, trying to keep himself busy by starting on dinner preparations - only three hours too early. “It gets better from now.”

“What changed?”

“You came along.”

Sure enough, Geralt slowly blossomed again. Not at all like what he was, he was more thoughtful, much less likely to rise to Lambert’s asinine riling. But he was no longer a storm cloud haunting the halls of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier went from a terse “bard” to “Jaskier” to “Jask” and, in the end, he was “mine” which was a relief.

They lost track of the years, not like any of them knew exactly how old Geralt was. But the last few days of the spell were only trackable by the scars Geralt’s skin bore.

“Do you think it’s worn off?” Eskel asked one morning.

Geralt gave him a funny look. “What’s worn off?”

So probably not. It was another two days before Geralt sat up in the middle of the pile eyes wide and he growled.

“Fucking fae.”

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 16: Touch Starved

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, pre-relationship

WC: ~1870

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N: Are y'all ready for some whumpy fluff??? Cuz I got some kinda cavity-inducing treat here for those that're into that.

~

In theory, Kakashi should have been assigned a touchstone during his ANBU service. Looking back, he’s ambivalent about how he feels on the subject. Sure, a touchstone could have been helpful if they were trained well and able to calm him down from the nightmares he had as a teenager; but he’s also historically one of the deadliest shinobi enlisted in ANBU and the possibility of accidentally killing a touchstone would have gotten him discharged early at best or put down because of a psychotic break at worst.

He doesn’t casually touch people, and hasn’t since his fist went through Rin’s chest ten years ago. He’s okay with this. He doesn’t want to touch people anyway—it registers a part of his instincts that equates touch with mission and he doesn’t like being “on” while in the village. Even Gai keeps a respectable distance unless they’re sparring, especially after the last time they had been walking through the village and brushed elbows and Kakashi flinched hard enough that two on-duty ANBU flickered into view on the rooftops.

But really, he’s fine.

~

Then he becomes a jōnin-sensei and formally meets Uzumaki Naruto and, by extension of Naruto, Umino Iruka. And see, after a week of training with the genin, he thought he’d gotten used to being casually touched again. Naruto, in particular, likes to take Kakashi’s palm in high-fives without permission and run circles around his legs like an over-excited pup. But Sasuke also will lean against him for a breath if no one else is looking, and Sakura is a hugger.

This does not prepare him for meeting his team’s old Academy teacher, who invites all of Team Seven—including Kakashi—to his home at the end of their first week for dinner. It seems odd that Naruto knows where everything is in the home enough to help Umino-sensei finish cooking and set the table; even more odd is Umino ordering Naruto around and Naruto following those orders without question. After the meal, Kakashi resolves to pick the man’s brain to figure out how he does that.

But then he notices how the man is moving around the kitchen; stiffly, limping, one hand bracing his lower back if he needs something out of his reach. And how Sasuke and Sakura are also hovering, asking if there’s anything they can do to help—and Kakashi realizes that he’s missing crucial information.

He gets the story about the scroll, the betrayal, and the fuma shuriken after dinner, while he’s helping Umino-sensei clean up. They had sent the genin out of the kitchen—Umino hadn’t wanted to recall it around them, worried it might “upset them”—so it was just the two of them in a tiny space.

And he’s not ready for it. Every time Umino passes behind him while Kakashi’s washing up at the sink, he presses a gentle hand to his upper back. Their fingertips brush occasionally when Kakashi’s handing Umino freshly washed dishes to dry.

His fucking laugh is a touch of its own.

Kakashi starts out tense but minutes go by and Umino doesn’t seem to recognize that his actions are distressing so Kakashi just… breathes through it. And relaxes. And lets himself feel.

And, gods, it’s nice.

~

It doesn’t stop. Umino—

“Iruka, please,” he smiles and it’s like sunshine after a month in the Land of Frost. “I’d like to think we’re friends, Kakashi-sensei, and my friends call me Iruka.”

“Then just ‘Kakashi’ is fine,” he replies—

He’s still wondering why he said that, but it certainly happened; it was at the Mission Desk and there were witnesses—

Anyway.

Iruka doesn’t stop with these friendly, gentle touches. But after that first night he is always careful to do them in places where no one else can observe Kakashi’s reactions, which Kakashi is immensely thankful for.

He doesn’t ever turn on Iruka, but there are some close calls. He once followed Iruka down into the archives and while they were down there he said something—likely a crass joke, remembering Iruka’s flush and that particular smile. In hindsight, Kakashi realizes that the jab on his arm was meant to mean oh gods why are you like this in an amused air; at the time, he froze and his heart had started pounding and he briefly saw Iruka as a threat.

Iruka didn’t move, either away or closer, just waited until Kakashi’s tension released. It took almost a minute. He did, however, continue speaking; going into a story about Naruto and Shikamaru from their earlier days at the Academy. Once Kakashi was back to himself he stuck his hands in his pockets and Iruka finished his filing in the archives, walking around again as though he hadn’t just been in potential danger.

Kakashi wonders if Iruka has touchstone training. He wonders if Iruka would entertain being his touchstone; but, no, he’s not ANBU anymore, he doesn’t need one anymore.

~

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

~

One day after training his team, he catches sight of Iruka lounging in the grass by the river, reading a novel. The sunset warms the deep tones of his skin even more than usual and Kakashi groans because he’s been psyching himself up to do something like this for weeks and here, here is the perfect chance. And he could absolutely keep walking down the road and keep his hands and body to himself and Iruka would be none the wiser; and even if he does find out, Iruka will never hold it against him or call him a coward.

He can do it. He takes a few steps down the hill.

He can’t do it—he turns back up to the road and puts his face into his hands. He resists groaning, as that would alert Iruka to his presence and then he’s fucked.

He turns back around and looks at Iruka, turning the page of his book and tucking an arm under his head. Gods, he’s…

If I go down there, I’ll destroy him.

If I don’t, I’ll destroy myself.

Kakashi doesn’t whine, he doesn’t. He fought in the Third Great Shinobi War. He’s a hardened ANBU operative—retired, but. He’s one of the deadliest shinobi Konoha has on its roster. He can approach a chūnin Academy sensei, his friend, for no other reason than to just sit near him.

His legs move before he can form the thoughts to stop them, and he’s dropping into a cross-legged seat beside Iruka.

“Hello, Kakashi,” Iruka says. He sets his book aside and sits up, shifting so he’s more facing Kakashi. And gods that smile. “How are you?”

Kakashi finds that he can’t quite get the words out, and so just holds out a hand between them hoping Iruka will understand.

“Ah.” Of course, Iruka does. He slips his fingers between Kakashi’s slowly, giving him the chance to pull away if he needs. But Kakashi isn’t here for need; he’s here for want.

He pulls Iruka’s hand up to his cheek and presses into it, his pulse quickening.

“Kakashi, is everything alright?” Iruka murmurs.

He nods. The lump in his throat eases enough that he’s able to mutter back: “Exposure therapy. My apologies, sensei, for using you this way.”

Iruka’s palm is warm through his mask. He wishes he hadn’t done this in public, that he could feel Iruka’s hand on his bare face.

“I understand. I have done this before.”

“Y-You have?”

Iruka nods, shifts closer and lays his other hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. “I’ve had other friends in ANBU,” he whispers. “I was a touchstone for, ah, three years? For them.”

Kakashi can’t help the bubbling laugh. “I had wondered where you got these kinds of instincts, sensei.”

“It’s certainly not from teaching pre-genin.”

Iruka continues lightly stroking his shoulders and cheek where Kakashi placed his hand, until Kakashi fidgets and shifts and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck.

“I was wondering if—um—could you—that is—”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Iruka nods.

“That’s just the thing,” Kakashi sighs. “I’m not comfortable with any of this.”

“Okay, so then just ask,” he says instead. “I promise, it’s neither the oddest request I’ve gotten, nor will I refuse you.”

Kakashi quirks an eyebrow and Iruka chuckles.

“I’ll tell you later. Ask.”

He takes in a deep breath and on the exhale says it at once: “CanIputmyheadinyourlap?”

Iruka takes a second to decode what he says, and then his grin widens and he turns back to where he’d placed his book. He shifts it further aside and situates himself better, and then nods, making a subtle come here gesture with the hand near his book.

Kakashi turns and just about falls into Iruka’s lap, now laying parallel to the river and looking up at the reddening sky. In the east, a few early stars are coming out. But here, on the riverbank, Iruka runs his fingers through Kakashi’s hair and it’s heaven. Fingertips from his other hand stroke gently down the side of Kakashi’s face and neck. After a few minutes, Iruka settles his arm over Kakashi’s chest in a loose embrace and it causes a hitch in his breath and a stutter in his pulse but—

But he’s with Iruka and he’s in the village and the fingers through his hair are so nice and he’s safe and Iruka’s safe—

He relaxes.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Iruka says softly.

“This is wonderful, sensei,” Kakashi breathes. “You’re just enough. Exactly what I needed.”

Iruka lightly scratches at his scalp and Kakashi groans. The arm across his chest gets a little heavier and Kakashi notices but doesn’t care because he’s in the village and safe and with Iruka—

“Can I… um. No, nevermind.”

Kakashi opens his eye, looks up at Iruka, flushed in the sunset, and says, “Ask anyway?”

Iruka bites at his lip and hesitates, but Kakashi has all the time in the world right now. Eventually, the sun goes beyond the horizon and Iruka asks barely above a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

He’s honestly surprised, thinking that he was the only one harboring a crush. But then he thinks about the sensitivity of lips on lips and tongue and teeth and being that close and I’ll destroy him—Kakashi stops that line of thought fast and clears his throat to fight off the bile wanting to rise. He swallows hard and says, “Not yet. I don’t know if I can—”

“Shh,” Iruka presses one finger to his lips over the mask; it’s excruciating. “You don’t need to explain yourself. A no is enough. I’ve got this,” gesturing to Kakashi, laid out beside him, and then threads his fingers back in his hair, “and I'm more than happy.”

Iruka eventually relocates them to his apartment, where Kakashi goes along quietly and eats what he’s given and washes up beside Iruka like he always does at the Team Seven dinners he hosts. And when they move to the living room and Iruka sits in the corner of his couch and pats his lap questioningly, Kakashi falls into place like a good soldier and spends the rest of the night trying not to tear up at how good it feels to be touched so carefully, so gently, so lovingly.

[ladyblogger-margie]

Playoff Pressure

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: Will and F!Reader watch an NHL playoff game together and take their relationship to the next level. Reader is a lifelong hockey fan who cares very much about the sport and their team. 

Warnings: 18+ Only (general smut, unprotected sex, oral sex M!recieving, creampie, cum play)

Word Count: 2580

a/n: This is SO self indulgent and written in the spirit of the NHL playoffs happening now. I’m a Toronto Maple Leaf fan, but I’ve tried to keep the fandom neutral for the story as well as keep the aspects of the reader character fairly neutral other than the specifics of being a hockey fan.

MY MASTERLIST

Will came back from the kitchen carrying two bottles of beer in one hand and a box of pizza balanced in the other. You and he were both wearing your team gear as you settled into the couch together to watch the next playoff game for your favorite hockey team. The NHL playoffs were in full swing and there was just something so exciting about playoff hockey. 

Will was more of a baseball fan before he met you, but you’ve done your part in bringing out his passion for the game you had loved all your life. Now it was tradition to watch games together, and when playoff time hit, everything else took a backseat to cheering on your favorite team. 

You two watched the pregame show with the sound off to fill in the chatter with your own thoughts and predictions. Drinking a couple of beers and enjoying each other’s company. Even though you didn’t live with each other, you basically spent every night together. During hockey season it was at your place, and during the baseball season it was over at his. 

As the puck drop approached, your pre-game jitters rose in anticipation. You cared very deeply about the game, and Will knew and respected that. It took you a while to show him that side of you in the first place. In the past your enthusiasm had been met with skepticism or humor, and things with Will were so great you had been scared to open that part of your heart to him. 

But when you did, Will surprised you with not only being supportive, but taking the time to learn about the game to be able to experience it along with you. One day you were settled in to watch the game and Will was asking you questions about what ‘offside’ means, and the next he was talking about the ways the team could use a cycle on their powerplay more effectively. 

Benny had let it slip that Will had been studying hockey and learning all he could so he could participate in your chatter where you had previously been talking either to yourself or the screen. Frankie had smacked Benny upside the head at his slip up, Will having sworn the guys to secrecy. 

“But why doesn’t he want me to know?” you asked, confused.

“He wants you to think he already knew everything,” Benny shrugged. 

You dropped it with the guys, but it didn’t slip your mind later that night when you were getting ready for bed. 

“Why didn’t you want me to know you’ve been studying hockey?” you asked him. 

Will froze as he pulled back the sheets, “What makes you say I have?”

You chuckled, “Benny told me.”

Will’s shoulders slumped, “I just wanted you to think I knew this stuff already, because the person you always thought you’d be with would know hockey.”

You winced, regretting the words you forgot you said on your first date, carelessly, without any real significance. You felt bad he remembered that, especially since you hadn’t. 

“You’re the person I want to be with, and it means a lot to me that you’re learning about things I care about,” you said, reaching for Will and pulling him in for a kiss, “I don’t care if you know everything, I’m just so touched you care enough about me to engage in my interests.” 

Will kissed you, and that was that. He stopped researching on his own and instead asked you his questions. The whole thing had brought you both closer together. 

Which brings you to today’s playoff game. 

The puck dropped and you took a large gulp of your fresh, ice cold beer to settle your nerves. Will handed you a slice of pizza and kissed your cheek. He knew better than to try and steal your attention from the play. 

When the first intermission arrived, you felt some of the tension release from your body, taking a deep breath to collect yourself as the teams took a break and you muted the intermission chatter. 

“This is so much more intense than the regular season,” Will commented. 

You chuckled, “Isn’t it great?”

You knocked back the last sip of your beer and set it gingerly on the crappy coffee table under your feet. 

“I hate this coffee table,” you muttered, frowning at it, “Yours is so much nicer.”

Will smiled, “We could get rid of this one,” he suggested. 

“Then I’d have to find another one, and I’m just not in the mood to spend that kind of money,” you sighed and heaved yourself up off the couch and headed for the kitchen. 

When you returned with two more ice cold beers, you saw Will watching the television, still on mute, very intently. 

“Did you want me to turn the volume back on?” you asked. 

“I didn’t mean that you should go out and buy a new coffee table,” Wil said, his tone hinting at frustration. 

You handed Will a beer and took a sip of your own, “Then what did you mean?”

“We could get rid of this coffee table, and I could bring mine here,” Will said, taking his eyes off the screen and locking them on you instead. 

“Are you planning on getting a new table then?” you asked, confused about the whole conversation. 

Before Will could answer, you noticed the second period about to start.

“Oh, pin in that, game’s back,” you explain and turn the volume back up, your attention completely on the television, oblivious to the tension in Will’s shoulders. 

Over the course of the intense and honestly fantastically exciting twenty minutes of play, Will spent most of the time watching you. You found it distracting. You were always so overwhelmed by him, consumed by him when he looked at you that way. He should have known better than to distract you like that. But you were frustrated with yourself to be annoyed by his attention when you knew just how lucky you were. 

“Babe,” you said, not looking at him as you kept your attention on the game, “Are you watching?”

You saw him smile and lean into your side to place a scratchy kiss on your cheek. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m paying attention, I promise,” he whispered against your skin, sending a shiver through your body. 

He started to pull away, but you reached up to hold his face close to yours, your attention still on the game. He understood your intention and allowed your attention to stay with your team as he  trailed gentle kisses along your jaw and then to your neck. He sucked a hickey to the exposed flesh there. 

Your team scored, causing you to jump to your feet in enthusiasm, pulling yourself away from Will suddenly. He laughed to himself before he got up to cheer alongside you and listen to you break down the whole play and jump around. 

By the end of the second period you were full-on jittery. Your knees were bouncing and your heart was racing. When the horn blared you sprung to your feet, muting the intermission chatter and stood in front of the television to begin preaching your thoughts on the game so far and what your team needed to do to send this game home. 

Will was a patient and attentive listener. He chipped in thoughts of his own when you paused for a breath, but mostly nodded along in agreement with what you were saying. It was so liberating to be yourself so completely with someone and Will gave that to you. 

Just before the third period started Will stood up to kiss you deeply, making your knees weak and your mind go blank. You sank into him, returning the kiss and wrapping your arms around the back of his head, your shoulders propped up on his shoulders. There wasn’t any space between your bodies.

Then he turned the volume back up on the television just in time for the third period puck drop and said, “Let’s bring it home.”

You settled into the couch next to him, gripping his knee tightly with your anxiety over the game. Though you weren’t settled in for long. The game got very intense, and the score was still tight so you ended up on your feet, rocking back and forth on your heels.

When your goalie made a spectacular save, you jumped up and down and swung your arms wildly, nearly clocking Will in the face. Thankfully his reflexes saved you the guilt of incidental contact and your night continued injury free. 

In the final few minutes of the game, you were a wreck. Your team was winning, but with a game this quick there was no telling how quickly the tides could turn and you’ve witnessed enough upsets to know better than to count your wins before the buzzer. 

Will held your hand and stood next to you as you stood watching the clock intently. When the final buzzer blew you and Will cheered loudly and jumped up and down in celebration. You were so thrilled your team won you couldn’t stop smiling. You pulled Will in for a big kiss, smiling the whole time. 

Finally catching your breath, you collapsed to the couch. 

“I’ve got all this nervous energy with nowhere to put it,” you laughed. 

“I can think of one way to blow off some of this steam,” Will suggested. 

“Blow?” you said as you slipped off the couch to your knees and you crawled between Will’s legs. 

He smiled down at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and finger as he looked you over, licking his lips. 

“You sure this is how you want to celebrate?” he asked. 

“Yes, I want to share the good vibes,” you said, unbuckling his pants and slipping his half hard cock out and pumping it in your hand. 

He hissed a sound of relief as he grew harder in your hand. It wasn’t long until he was fully erect in all his impressive glory. You licked your lips and took him down your throat until you choked. You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him down deep and hard, bobbing your head in his lap. 

He gripped the back of your neck, pushing himself deeper inside you with a low grunt. You felt the wetness gather in your panties as he took control of the pace and fucked your face with his pulse raising and breathing quickening. 

You could tell he was close, and in a tease, you pulled off his dick with a pop. He flopped his head backwards on the back of the couch. 

“Sweetheart,” he whimpered, “What are you doing to me?”

You pulled your pants and panties down so you were naked except for your team shirt and you tugged off his pants completely this time. 

You kissed him, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You grind your hips against him, dragging his thick cock through your slick folds. His hands travel up under your shirt to caress your breasts. He doesn’t remove it, and he’s still wearing his too so you match in your semi-nakedness and full on team spirit. 

You line him up at your entrance, and slowly lower yourself into his lap, feeling him stretch you out as you push down on him. His hands don’t stop traveling over your whole body, pinching, brushing, caressing. When they settled on your hips and he’s got them in a tight grip, he bucks underneath you and drops his head into the crook of your neck. 

You feel how he fills you up inside as you grow the friction between your bodies. Your hands tangled up in his short hair. You rocked up and down on his thick cock, your body trembling under his touch. You could feel the heat rising in your core as he pressed against that spot inside you. 

He dropped a hand from your hips and snuck his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves as he bucked up underneath you. You gripped his shoulders tightly, desperate to stay on as he took control. 

Suddenly he flipped you off his lap and set you on your knees on the couch. He lined himself up behind you and thrust into you with a wet squelch. You braced yourself against the couch cushion and pushed back against him. He had a tight grip on your hips as he pounded into you. 

You felt the heat growing again in your core as he rubbed his finger against your clit in time with his pounding thrusts. When you came, drenching his cock in your slick, you moaned out his name. 

He pulled you up to press your back into his chest to thrust up into you. You reach behind you to hold his face in your hand. He bites into your neck, the pressure applied directly over the hickey from earlier. 

“Come inside me, baby,” you coo in his ear. 

It doesn’t take more than that before he cums inside you, painting your walls as your pussy pulses around him. He holds you close to him as he tries to settle his breathing which blows hot by your ear. 

He pulls out of you slowly, replacing his cock with his fingers to push around his cum and your slick inside you. He gathered it on his fingertips and pushed it inside of you over and over again. He finger-fucked you through a second, surprise, orgasm that ripped the strength from your body and the only thing keeping you up was his embrace. 

He gently spun you around to lay you on your back on the couch. He crawled into your arms and settled on top of you, smothering you delightful beneath him. His head was nuzzled between your breasts as you rubbed his back and felt his cum slide out of you. 

“I meant we should move in together,” Will whispered against your skin. 

“Hmm?” you asked, not following his thought. 

“I’m taking the pin out of the conversation,” he explained. 

“The conversation about my crappy coffee table?” you asked, still confused. 

“I think we should dump that crappy coffee table and replace it with mine, but I think we should keep my couch, it’s bigger than this one and matches the lazy-boy I’m bringing with me,” he said, still talking against the shirt covering your breasts. 

“Wait, you’re serious? You want to live together?” you ask, propping yourself up to your elbows and he lifted his head to look you in your eyes. 

“Yes, we might as well since we spend every night together anyway,” he said with a shrug. 

You pulled him up by his shoulders and yanked on his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. 

“Yes!” you practically shrieked in his ear, “Let’s do it!”

He pulled you into his lap not caring about the mess to kiss you deeper. 

“We should get a new place,” you suggest. 

“With a den we can convert into our own sports bar,” he said. 

“Baseball in the summers, hockey in the winter, beer year round,” you explain with full sincerity. 

“As you wish,” he said. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Will said as he led you to the bathroom, “We can start looking for a place after.”

Then he led you to the shower and towards the next chapter of your lives together.

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog​

[sarcasticfina]

Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

[grimmseye]

Tandem

Read on Ao3 Here

Rating: Gen

Fandom: She-ra

Relationships: Hordak & Entrapta, Hordak/Entrapta (pre-relationship

Chapter Characters: Hordak, Entrapta

Chapter Tags/Warnings: This is just 1500+ words of Hordak’s thoughts about Entrapta, Pre-Season 2

(Disclaimer: remember that Hordak is both an imperial soldier and a cult survivor. This is also before he and Entrapta have really started building their relationship. His narration is told through that lens. )

— — — — — — — —

Years of sifting through the Horde’s administrative detritus had not made the job any more bearable for him. Even when Shadow Weaver had been keeping operations smooth, there was a certain portion of work that had to fall on his head, plans and projects needing review before they could be dismissed or approved of.

It was aggravating work, with one new exception. When he reached the file with telltale oil smudges on it, he could already feel the weight of his armor ease. There was a quickness to his movements as he flipped the file open — certainly not eagerness, but anticipation. For once, the weight of the file pleased him rather than had Hordak biting back groans.

Entrapta’s projects were the only things that brought him any mental stimulation these days. He took a cursory flip through the first packet, ears perking as he spotted the first draft of her blueprints. For once, she wasn’t offering new weapons to deploy, but rather a more espionage-focused design: something small that could scope out their targets before they sent any troops to seize new territory.

It was delicate work, and deeply time consuming. He settled in to read in more detail, making a note to himself to grant her a more direct line of contact to him. From now on, Entrapta’s projects should be sent through communication pads, to be vetted by the only person in the Fright Zone who could offer worthwhile criticism. Two pages in, he could tell notes from those who had reviewed it before were utterly worthless, all questions and conjecture with no understanding of what it was that they demanded. It was worthless to insist she work faster if there wasn’t a method to do so.

There was one, potentially, but not a single of the previous readers had mentioned it.

Hordak created a document on his communications pad and set a stylus to the screen. He got several lines into his writing before he had to stop, giving a faint sneer. His armor weighed his limbs, making his writing sloppy, and regardless...

He tapped his nails along the edge of his throne. As excellent as Entrapta’s reports were, she did not receive the same work with enthusiasm. Audio recordings were her preferred means of reference if he recalled correctly, remembering a delay in her work when she'd first began working on his bots. When he'd inquired about it, she'd mentioned something along the lines of struggling to digest the information. A vocal repetition and a recording of the instructions had been enough to get her back on schedule.

A moment’s deliberation sent to the security feeds, ensuring Entrapta was in her lab before he flicked on a monitor. Through his screen, it gave an overhead of Entrapta at her workbench, looking to be setting up to get to work. Good. He wouldn’t be able to interrupt her if she were doing something delicate.

He lifted his chin before announcing himself with a call of, “Princess Entrapta.”

She straightened up at once, head swiveling before she caught sight of the monitor, gawking for a moment before breaking into a smile and calling out, “Hello!”

She’d forgotten to bow. Again. He pushed a breath through his teeth, finding that the urge to demand proper respect felt oddly diluted for Entrapta. Whether or not she bowed had yet to compromise her work. Instead he skipped to the point: “I received your newest blueprints. The design is promising, if… inefficient.”

Entrapta clapped her hands together, looking excited before the words caught up with her. “Oh, I know. I’ll need to develop a prototype to get a real sense of what materials I’ll need and how much time it’ll take —” As she spoke, her words grew quick, almost snappish. “— But right now the estimated time per drone is much longer than I’d like, let alone viable for regular use.” Her hair frizzed out, bristling not unlike a cat’s. A clear sign of displeasure.

He lingered in that for a moment, then spoke. “I have a suggestion,” He said, appreciating how she perked up at once. It was gratifying to work with someone who knew what they were doing, and even understood what he was doing — at least as far as an upbringing on this planet allowed. “There is a synthetic compound we produce here in the Fright Zone that may work as a substitute for what you intend to use: adamantine. It should have the strength to support this device even in sheer pieces.”

She listened to him speak, interrupting only once to ask if she could run a recorder. Once again, he found satisfaction in that. He rarely had trouble with being listened to — with the exception of Entrapta, all knew to bow in his presence, to not speak while he was speaking. He had fear, and respect, and obedience, he had created a facsimile of the true Horde, successful in his emulation of Horde Prime. And yet, while Princess Entrapta did not fear him or even always obey him, she heard him in a way no other creature on Etheria had before. She challenged him, even, and as irritating as her insubordination could be, there was value in an alternative perspective.

Truly, she was impressive. Despite being a princess, Entrapta had taken well to life in the Fright Zone. Everything he knew of the Etherian princesses suggested inordinate wealth and luxury that would not lend itself to the Horde’s lifestyle. The primary kingdoms were disorganized and self-serving, lacking unity and loyalty to any but themselves, excising that which they found displeasing and then stuffing their castles with unneeded opulence. Here, closest thing to luxury Entrapta had been provided was her own room, something all ranking officers were granted. And yet he’d heard none of the anticipated whining, just a snippet of her voice from Imp about the brown nutrition bars being unfavorable in texture, even once cut into smaller cubes.

He wasn’t sure he could count her among the ranks of the princesses at all, and that was entirely favorable. Dryl had such organization and stability that even in their princess’ absence, the small nation ran like clockwork. It seemed almost entirely self-sufficient, and what necessary trade was denied to them after allying with the Horde could be supplemented.

Again, he berated himself for not considering Dryl’s value. It seemed that like the other nations of this planet, he’d vastly underestimated its value, and Princess Entrapta’s value most of all.

At some point, their conversation drifted off track, to the materials Dryl itself mined and then stories of what Entrapta had found beneath the earth, the First Ones’ tech she was so enamored with.

“Their power sources are more efficient than any Etherian technology I’ve seen,” Entrapta breathed, her chin cupped in her hands. “One crystal,” she framed her thumb and forefinger approximately an inch apart, “could have enough energy to fuel one of your Skiffs for a full day of flight, longer if you stop to let it replenish — because that’s what makes them so amazing, they don’t run out of power. I think eventually they might exhaust their capability for storage but I have yet to prove it, but in the meantime they seem endlessly capable of recharging their own energy, potentially by harnessing the latent magic in Etheria’s atmosphere.”

Sometimes it could become difficult to keep up with the pace of her voice, when her words began to run into one another and she took great gasps as she ran out of breath. And yet, the subject held his attention, ears perked forward with fascination.

“If we were able to collect such crystals…” Even that much energy would be insufficient for his portal machine, but to collect a great quantity —

“That’s the trouble,” Entrapta sighed, deflating. “I’ve rarely found these crystals intact.”

Disappointment weighed heavy in Hordak’s chest, then curled into anger. He’d hardly known about it for a moment, and already his hope —

He slammed his fist down on his throne. Hordak glanced at the clock, realizing half an hour had slid by without his noticing. This entire thing had been — “A waste of my time.”

“I disagree!” Entrapta’s rebuttal made his eyes narrow. Still, he knew to listen to his officers when they spoke — even to Shadow Weaver, who had to walk through elaborate metaphors and tangents before she ever got to the point. Though perhaps he should have listened less to her. The very premise of her arrival should have served a warning — seeking revenge did not sow loyalty.

Unlike Entrapta, who worked for her discoveries, for possibility rather than vengeance on the fools who had left her for dead.

So he did not silence her as she continued, “Your input was quite valuable! If you could have some of that material sent to my lab, I’ll be sure to attempt a prototype using it and see if it will be a good substitute.”

His ears relaxed from their flattened position. Hordak glanced away from the screen for just a moment, taking a breath to calm his frustrations. “Of course. I will see it is done.” He hesitated for just a moment before saying, “That is all. You are dismissed, Princess Entrapta.”

“Okay!” She smiled. “It was nice talking with you! We should do this again!”

His finger hesitated over a button. Hordak inclined his head, half of a nod before he ended the transmission.

The quiet that followed left him with a strange feeling: reluctance to continue his work, the want to shift it aside and perhaps pull up his records on Dryl to read more on what Entrapta had told him. Instead he took his pad, putting in two orders: one to deliver a shipment of adamantine to Entrapta’s lab, the other opening a direct line to her own communicator.

Just in case she wanted to consult his opinion once again.

[organabanana]

Leaves of three, let it be [1/?] || harlivy

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i'm sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Series: Part 1 of the Cliché a Week 2021 series

Summary:

Aided by a terrible hangover and a severe lack of impulse control, Harley accidentally drinks an unknown substance at Ivy's apartment and suddenly remembers why Ivy goes by Poison Ivy in her professional life. Luckily for Harley, she's immune to Ivy's toxins. Unluckily for Harley, she may not be immune to her love pheromones, and turning into a human-plant hybrid is not her idea of a good time.

Telling Ivy so she can give her an antidote may seem like the obvious course of action, but there are very few things Harley hates more than disappointing Ivy with her poor decision-making skills. Besides, like Selina said, if she'd drunk pheromones she'd be in love with Ivy by now, right?

And Harley Quinn is absolutely not in love with her best friend.

Notes:

This was (loosely) inspired by Prompt #1104 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor: “Hey, do you know if potions expire?” “I think it depends on the potion. Why?” “Well, I was really hungover this morning and grabbed the wrong glass and I feel super weird right now.” And "Everyone knows they’re dating except them” from the Cliché A Week Challenge by @montocalypse. The plan is for this to be 4-5 chapters at most BUT I'm not ready to commit to a number just yet so we'll see how that goes!

[ao3 link]

Harley wakes up with a pounding headache that makes her wonder if someone stole her bat and tried to crack her skull with it last night. 

"Ughhh..." she groans, squeezing her eyes shut. Her mouth feels like sandpaper. Her throat feels like... like sandpaper. Listen: she's not in any kind of mood for elaborate, imaginative similes right now. Everything is pain and/or sandpaper. Deal with it.

"Fuck me." It comes out in a whiny, pathetic little voice, and Harley is almost more pissed off about that than about the hangover itself. Where is she, anyway? She forces herself to sort of... perceive  the world around her without moving a muscle or opening her eyes, which may not be the best approach but it works anyway because she totally knows Ive's apartment by smell.

As friends do.

Once that's settled, and she knows she's in fact safe (how could she not be? She's at Ivy's!) Harley moves her right hand and feels around for the bedside table, but apparently she didn't climb into her usual side of the bed (friends have sides of their friends' beds, obviously) because what she feels on her right side is soft and warm and definitely not a bedside table.

"Sorry." She mumbles, affectionately patting Ivy's ass before turning over to the other side and trying again. She does find a table this time, and she nearly cries in relief when she finds a little water bottle waiting for her parched lips to drink.

Score.

It's only when she's downed the whole thing that she realizes two things:

One, that did not  taste like water.

And two, there is a reason Pam goes professionally by Poison  Ivy.

"Shit," Harley stage-whispers, blue eyes now wide open as she stares at the empty bottle in her hand, "shit, shit, shit."

Harley knows she's not dying. She knows she's immune to toxins, and she's cuddled the fuck out of Ivy (as friends do) on enough occasions to know she doesn't break out in hives at Ivy's touch. But the thing about Ivy is, she's kind of an overachiever. There aren't just toxins to worry about. Harley could be about to turn into a fern or something, and nobody could do anything to prevent it.

Well, except Pam.

But you know what? Considering the kind of mood Ivy gets in when Harley makes a less than stellar choice, she's gonna risk turning into a plant rather than waking her up.

"Morning, sunshine." Selina walks -- nay, prances  -- into the bedroom looking flawless as always, which is pretty fucking unfair considering her presence at Ivy's can only mean she was there for whatever hangover-causing shenanigans they all happened to get into last night. But of course, Selina Kyle is above looking like shit while hungover. 

" Selina ," Harley all but hisses (which is fitting, considering Selina's... you know), showing her the empty bottle, "I fucked up."

"When do you not  fuck up, Harley?" It comes off as both smug and somehow charming, which is, again, pretty fucking unfair. "What did you do this time?"

Harley shows her the empty bottle once again, shaking it slightly like she cannot  believe Selina isn't getting the gravity of the situation right away.

"What? I don't get it-- ohh ." Selina lets out a quiet chuckle that sounds almost like a purr. "Yeah, you fucked up."

"Dammit, Selina! What if I turn into a fucking succulent?"

"Oh come on, don't be dramatic. What color was it?"

Harley stares at her. "Don't you think I'd have known not to drink it if I'd looked at it?"

"I mean, I tend to assume people look at things  before putting them in their mouth. But you did  fuck Joker, so..."

"Hurtful." A beat. "Fair, yes, but still. Hurtful."

As if on cue, Ivy rolls over in her sleep, draping her arm across Harley's lap. Harley smiles, momentarily forgetting the bottle and its contents and the potential result of her having drunk them, because Ivy is just such a good friend. Protecting her from Selina's... well. Selina-ness even in her sleep.

"You guys need some privacy?"

Harley doesn't stop gently tracing the vines on the back of Ivy's hand, but she does look away from soft green skin to shoot Selina a teasing look. "Aw, does someone need scritches? Here, pussy pussy..."

Selina rolls her eyes. "Fine. Turn into a fucking sequoia for all I care. At least you'll be good for climbing."

The soft movements of Harley's fingers stop as Selina's words fully sink in. "Wh- what?" Harley's voice sounds a bit deflated, like one of those sad clown balloons after a sad balloon fart.

"I'm just saying. Pheromones and chill forever as a human-tree abomination? Kind of her signature move."

Harley just stares at Selina, horrified at the prospect of spending the rest of her life as a brain-dead tree and trying (and failing) to come up with a plausible reason why there is no way Ivy's pheromones were in that bottle.

"Anyway!" Selina sighs, stretching her arms up over her head. "I should get going. I have cats to feed."

"Wait. Wait!" Harley stage-whispers, and she's suddenly extremely thankful for Ivy sleeping like a log.

Heh. Like a log .

"You can't leave me, Selina! What if you're right?"

"Oh, come on, kitten," Selina says over her shoulder, already on the way to the door, "if it was pheromones you'd be in love with her by now."

The sound of the door slamming shut behind Selina is enough to finally wake Ivy, and Harley feels her best friend's arms tighten around her as Ivy stretches awake.

"Mmmhey, Harls." Ivy mumbles, voice rough and heavy with sleep as she moves even closer to Harley. 

Normally, Harley would've just sunk back into the most comfortable bed ever (there's a reason she rarely sleeps in her own!) and gone in for a round of lazy morning cuddles. She'd have basked in the smell of Ivy in the morning (freshly cut grass sparkling with dew drops) which is so different from the floral notes of Ivy at any other time of the day. She'd have pressed a kiss or two to Ivy's warm skin, felt her lips tingle with the sweet taste of a poison she's very much immune to, and maybe even fallen back to sleep listening to Ivy's heartbeat and the soft rhythm of her breaths.

You know. As friends do.

But today, thanks to Selina (the fact that nobody forced Harley to drink that stupid bottle is irrelevant, of course), Harley can't relax. She stiffens, even, becoming virtually un-snuggable and making Ivy fully open her eyes to give her a questioning look.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ive!" The enthusiasm is as fake as her smile, and the way Ivy's eyes narrow tells her it's been very much noticed. "Bit hungover, that's all."

It takes a couple of seconds for Ivy to speak. Like she's pondering whether to mention there's never been a hangover bad enough to keep Harley from getting her cuddle on or to just let it go for now. Harley's delighted to see the second option win in the end.

"Want me to give you something for the headache?"

"Nope!" Harley's on her feet in two seconds flat, practically jumping away from Ivy's warm body and her warm eyes and the warm offer of some nice natural drugs. "Thanks, though. You're sweet as pie, butter...fly."

"Butterfly." Ivy deadpans from the bed, looking more and more like she's mere seconds away from researching actual mental health facilities in Gotham (Arkham does not  count).

"Buttercup doesn't rhyme with pie. Listen, I should go. I have so much to do. There are-- well, you know! Havoc won't wreak itself, right? Gotham needs me."

"To... wreak havoc."

" Pre cisely. Gonna wreak it real good. You know me! Won't settle for a half-wroken havoc." 

"Wro... ken?"

"Oh, for sure, for sure!" What is she even saying? Harley grabs her bat and swings it a little like she's holding a purse and not a weapon, but thankfully she doesn't break anything in Ivy's room, which is great. "Text ya later, yeah?"

Ivy looks like she's struggling to even begin to process everything that's happened in the five minutes she's been awake. And honestly, Harley's grateful for it. She hasn't noticed the missing bottle, and she's not forcing Harley to stay and answer questions, so it's a win/win/win situation if you ask her. You know... other than the potential mutant tree issue.

"Okay!" Harley grins. "Good talk. Bye, Red. Love ya!"

Shit . 

Harley freezes for a moment. She's told Ivy she loves her before. Of course she has! She loves Ive, and Ivy loves her. They're pretty vocal about that. But today isn't just any other day. She always loves Ivy as a friend, of course. As her best friend she adores and would absolutely kill and die for. The most important person in her life. The one person who's ever made Harley feel safe and loved and appreciated unconditionally. She loves Ivy in a way that makes her feel like her heart is a bit too big for her ribcage and sometimes it gets so crowded in there she's afraid she may pop a rib out of its socket or something, but then Ivy holds her and everything settles again.

You know. A friendly kind of love.

But does she love  Ivy? Harley looks at her hands like she's expecting a few leaves to have sprouted there already. 

"Harley. Seriously, are you okay?"

Ivy's voice snaps her out of her funk, and Harley knows she needs to get out before she's forced into a whole conversation about this thing. 

"Peachy keen, Pam-a-lamb." Harley forces herself to walk towards the door without looking back, just in case. Just in case suddenly Ivy's surrounded by a pink fog of love, or whatever the fuck people see when they look at her while under the influence of her pheromones. I mean, she can't look even more  beautiful than she does normally, right? That's not even possible. So it must be like... a heart emoji filter or something. She really  doesn't want to find out. "Talk later!"

***

Harley looks at the melting cheese on her third egg sandwich like she's expecting it to hold the meaning of life. Or, at the very least, an answer to today's big conundrum. Is she or is she not turning into a tree?

And sure. Sure! She could ask Pam. This would be solved immediately, she knows. She could just ask Pam what was in the bottle and confess she's drunk it and just... put up with her mood for a while. No big deal! Except she really fucking hates disappointing Ivy, you know? When she gets all... cold and detached, and feels more like lettuce than lush tropical foliage. 

Listen, trust her, okay? Sad salad buffet lettuce Ivy is just the fucking worst.

So she takes a bite of her sandwich and tells herself whatever she drank can't have been anything too dangerous. It's been a couple hours now, so she should've felt some kind of effect, right? She should be feeling a bit plant-y, at the very least. Maybe a bit nauseous or something. But she feels fine. 

Well-- not fine , fine. She's still kinda rattled, but that's Selina's fault.

She's fine.

***

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

Ivy lets Selina handle the entry point (you'd think Gotham millionaires would've given up on skylights by now) and looks at Harley with a mixture of concern and distrust in her eyes. She clearly hasn't forgotten about their conversation in the morning.

"I'm fine!" Harley swings her bat around just to loosen up her bat-swinging muscles. She's fine. Not a plant, not in a love fog, not in any way dying. Totally fine. And , most importantly, not dealing with limp lettuce Ive. "It was just a hangover."

Ivy's eyes narrow just enough to make it crystal clear how little she trusts Harley right now, but for once Selina Kyle makes Harley's life easier instead of harder when she speaks.

"Ladies. This is a truly riveting conversation, but I have shit to do.”

“Like fucking a bat-fucking bat?” It may be a cheap shot, but it makes Ivy stiffle a laugh, and Harley kinda thinks that makes it the best joke ever.

But Selina simply cocks an eyebrow at Harley. “Are you sure you want to discuss regrettable sexual partners?”

Ouch. “Fair enough,” Harley concedes, already jumping through the hole Selina’s cut in the glass, “come on, we have an oil tycoon to kill.”

“Not an oil tycoon, Harls.” Ivy glides down on a vine, looking all majestic like some kind of forest nymph, and Harley simply has to stare and smile because how can she not? Look at her friend! “He’s been using an experimental fuel that causes—“

“Does it matter?” Selina sighs like even interrupting Ivy is exhausting, plucking a shiny gold ornament from a nearby table and making Harley wonder (honestly, not for the first time) if she just keeps shiny trinkets hidden in her catsuit like a magician to make it seem like she’s finding them everywhere. “Guy’s loaded.”

“It matters to me, Selina. Not all of us have the moral compass of a magpie.”

Harley giggles at Ivy’s joke. You know what? It may not even have been a real joke, because Ivy’s sense of humor is not exactly her best quality. But it was funny anyway.

“And if it matters to Ive, it matters to moi .” Harley points at herself with her bat and winks at her best friend, and honestly, who the hell cares what this guy does, exactly? Maybe he’s single-handedly destroying the Amazon, or maybe he just happens to walk through the grass instead of using the little paths when making his way across the park. Whatever it is, it’s important to Ivy. And if it’s important to Ivy, it’s important to Harley. And if it’s important to Ivy in a way that makes her smile like she does when Harley winks at her? Well, then this is absolutely Harley’s top fucking priority.

Things get interesting as soon as they turn a corner and step onto the plush carpet of the experimental fuel (hey, she actually listens when Ivy speaks) tycoon's private wing. And you know what? Harley's delighted to hear the alarms go off and a bunch of goons crawl out from their hidey holes like buff armed cockroaches. She knows Ivy and Selina prefer the whole... well, you know. In and out, clean and easy kind of approach to murder and robbery, respectively. But Harley's an action gal. She has the energy to burn and a bat to swing, and most of all, she has shit to not think about.

So she's delighted when this guy's goons happen to be relatively okayish at fighting, which is much more than can be said for most men she fights in this city. 

"I'll go deal with him before he can escape," Ivy says, already walking towards the door to his office. "You guys all right out here?" 

"We're great ." Selina says in that tone she has where she pretends she's annoyed but you can tell she's having a blast. 

Honestly. Who wouldn't  be having a blast? It's like whack-a-goon!

"So," Selina says as soon as Ivy's out of earshot, which Harley can appreciate as an act of friendship, "no pheromones, I take it?"

"Nope!" Harley punctuates the word by slamming her bat into some guy's face. "None at all."

"Huh."

"What?" She's distracted enough by Selina's reply that she actually takes a punch to the face, which only manages to piss her off. She turns to look at the guy who delivered the blow just so he can see the look in her eyes before she completely obliterates his face. "Holy shit, dude. Can't you see we're having a fucking CONVERSATION !?"

For the next few minutes, Harley focuses on getting rid of the last few men around them so they can finish talking. Sure, beating up idiots is fun, but that little 'huh' was just mysterious enough to grab Harley's interest. What could possibly be so huh-worthy about her being fine? 

By the time they're done, there are a number of unconscious goons scattered all over the place. Harley pants, using her hand to wipe blood (mostly not hers) and sweat (mostly hers) off her face as she catches her breath.

"Whew. That was fun, right?"

Selina, as usual, manages to look spotless even if Harley saw her deal with several men with her own two eyes. Is Selina Kyle secretly magic? 

Could be.

"I've had better." Selina uses one of her claws to unlock an ornate little box and gather the jewels inside. Can she smell  expensive stuff? "Come on, let's go get Ivy."

"No, no, wait." Harley lowers her voice like she's scared Ivy may hear them somehow. "What did you mean earlier?"

"What do you mean, what did I mean?"

"You know," Harley motions in the general direction of the spot where Selina was when they were talking before, "with the huh."

"The what ." 

"The huh, Selina! The huh!" Dark olive eyes narrow in confusion (and annoyance), and Harley groans because she can't believe Selina Kyle is being this thick. "I said no pheromones. And you said huh."

"Oh, that." Selina uses a polished silver platter as a mirror to reapply a lipstick Harley is frankly not sure where one would even carry in a skin-tight leather jumpsuit. The more time she spends with Selina, the more convinced she is she just doesn't abide by the laws of physics. 

And the more time she waits for Selina to elaborate, the more Harley realizes she just... isn't going to, apparently.

"Uughhh!" Harley groans and uses her bat to smash a nearby sculpture. "You're killing me, Selina! What the fuck did you mean!?"

Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow (Harley can tell it's happening under the mask) and gives Harley a look like she can't believe she'd have the audacity to speak to her in that tone. 

"I meant," Selina's tone is a warning, like she wants to make it clear she could have made Harley suffer more if she wanted, but she's choosing not to, "I found it surprising. You looked a bit loved up to me."

"What? Pffft." Harley lets out a chuckle and nudges one of the pieces of the sculpture with her foot. "Cut back on the catnip, Selina."

Loved up. Ridiculous. Does she love Ivy? Of course. Is she loved up? Of course not . There's no heart emoji fog. None at all.

"If you say so." Selina gives her A Look. The kind of look says she doesn't believe Harley, and she wants Harley to know that even if she won't engage in an argument about it right now. Selina Kyle can say a lot with one look. 

For a moment, Harley considers pushing the issue. She could insist. She could give her a list of reasons why she's absolutely not loved up at all whatsoever. She could tell Selina how what she shares with Ivy is actually true friendship, and Selina would know if she was capable of bonding with anything other than cats and jewelry. She could tell her how there's nothing even remotely mind-foggy about her feelings for Ive (she could bring up she's seen that mind fog in action the many times Ive's put Batman under her spell, even). Harley could tell Selina how her brain always feels a bit foggy in a vague kind of way -- just foggy enough to keep Harleen quiet and let Harley take the wheel -- but being with Ivy makes her feel more lucid, more real , than anything else in the world. How when Ive says she loves her Harley feels it right in her bones, in the very marrow of them, in the deepest, darkest, longest-forgotten parts of her brain where no other feeling can ever reach.

She could tell her how wildly different all that is from a silly potion-induced love fog. But she doesn't think Selina would understand their friendship even if Harley actually spelled it out. So she doesn't.

Instead, she silently follows Selina towards the office where Pam's been doing her thing. Where Pam's still doing her thing, actually, and Harley can't help but smile and lean against the doorframe to watch her best friend doing what she loves most (after Harley) in the world: eco-conscious murder.

"I fucking swear ," Ivy hasn't realized they're there, so she must be talking to what Harley can only assume is the tycoon himself even though only one of his legs can be seen outside the enormous mouth of a very happy-looking carnivorous plant, "how hard is it to not print out e-mails? Look at all this shit. Do you know how many trees had to be killed so you could print out your shitty... whatever the fuck this is?" 

Ivy groans like she's frustrated she can't use her powers to just will all the papers scattered everywhere to turn back into trees. There are vines everywhere -- like nature reclaiming the furniture and the walls and the floors and really every surface of his office. There's a strange beauty to it, Harley thinks. Haunting, like those pictures of abandoned buildings covered in grass and moss and weeds. Even when she's angry -- and oh, she's angry  right now -- Ivy really can't help but make the world a more beautiful place, can she?

Even when she was on the other side of the reinforced glass, wearing her glasses and her white coat, Harley never fully understood why Poison Ivy was lumped in with the rest of the psychos in Gotham.

Harley doesn't know how long she stays there. Selina's happily working on the safe next to the carnivorous plant, and Harley's more than content to just watch Ivy in her element for a while.

And then, it happens. 

Ivy's going on a rant about a bunch of single-use coffee cups she's found in the trashcan by the desk when she suddenly stops in her tracks. Harley can't see what she's looking at until Ivy turns around with a small flower pot in her hand, a sad-looking, mostly dry plant limply hanging off its side.

"Fuck him."

Ivy touches the plant and her brow furrows, and Harley knows she's feeling the thirst and the pain in the little plant as if it was her own. "You're okay now," Ivy says as the plant starts to recover, and her voice is so soft -- so full of love for a dry, nearly dead plant -- that Harley swears she feels her heart grow at least a couple sizes. She watches her best friend breathe life into a little plant, watches it turn from brown to green, brighter and taller, watches it sprout new leaves that make it look like it's stretching after a long sleep. And then she watches a bright yellow flower bloom, and when Harley finally manages to tear her eyes away from the flower to look at Ivy instead, she swears she feels her heart stop dead in its tracks.

Ive's always beautiful. Always, without fail, no matter what time of day or night, lounging at home or brooding in an Arkham cell. Pam is beautiful always. But Harley doesn't think she's ever seen her look more beautiful than she does right now, with her hair slightly disheveled after a fight and some blood (not at all hers) splattered on her face and clothes. It's the way she's smiling at that little plant. The way her smile grows and softens when she notices Harley looking at her. Harley's so enthralled by Ivy that she doesn't realize what she's thinking until it's been running through her mind for a while.

God , Harley's in love with her.

And that's when she realizes. That's when she hears the proverbial record scratch in her brain and her eyes widen in horror because there it is. There's the pink fog before the botanical mutation, right? I mean she can't exactly see a literal pink fog, but she may as well. She can feel her heartbeat all over the place. The butterflies in her stomach. The nearly all-consuming need to grab Ivy and kiss her until neither of them can breathe. 

"Shit. Shit, Red, shit, shitshit shit ."

Ivy's no longer smiling. At all.

"Oh God, Pammy. I fucked up." Harley feels her eyes well up with tears as she rushes towards her best friend because this is no longer a hypothetical: this is happening. She did  drink something dangerous. And suddenly keeping Ivy from finding out and getting mad at her feels less important than fucking surviving. "I fucked up, Ive, I drank a potion and now I'm turning into a fucking plant, please  tell me you have an antidote."

"Harley. Harl, look at me." Ivy looks so genuinely concerned Harley's sure the ridiculous amount of love she can see in green eyes must be part of the potion's effects. She's hallucinating, isn't she? "What potion? You're immune, Harley, you know that. Calm down."

"No, no! Not poison, I mean--" Harley shakes her head but has to stop when Ivy places her hands on Harley's cheeks to hold her head steady and look into her eyes like she's wondering if Harley's on drugs or something. "I mean a love potion, Ive! Shit, I thought it was water and I just drank the whole thing and I thought maybe it was nothing because I felt fine but now I know for sure  I fucked up because I'm so in love with you like-- just feel this!" Harley grabs one of Ivy's hands and moves it from her cheek down to her chest, pressing it right where her heart is still skipping all over itself. "Right?"

"I-- I don't-- Harl, what potion ? You're immune to all of my--"

"The pheromones! I don't know what it was! God I'm such a fucking fuck-up and now I'm just-- shit I hope I at least turn into a rhododendron bush or something because I don't want to be a succulent, Ive. Don't let me turn into a succulent." Harley's really crying now, black mascara running down her cheeks and staining Pam's hand as she struggles to breathe through her words. "I know I should've told you but I didn't want you to be disappointed and now I'm in love and it's just-- Selina, you tell her!"

"Selina?" Ivy turns around like she's just realized Selina is still in the mansion, let alone in the room with them. "What's going on?"

Harley was expecting Selina to tell Ivy exactly what happened that morning. She was expecting Selina to tell Ivy all about Harley being an idiot who drinks things without looking first, about the pheromones and chill, about Harley's refusal to tell Ivy right away. Instead, Selina looks... almost like she's the one who's been caught in a lie.

"Selina, what the fuck did you do?" Ivy's voice sounds like she's mere seconds away from feeding Selina to the plant, too. Harley can feel the anger like tingles where Ivy's hands are still pressed against her skin. "What did you give her?"

Selina lets out a sigh. "Margarita mix."

"What?" Harley feels a lightbulb go off inside her brain. That  was the weird taste when she drank whatever was in that bottle. Fucking margarita mix. But just.. "Why? What the fuck, Selina? Why would you let me think it was pheromones? I know Batman doesn't actually fuck bats, probably. Come on, it was a joke! Mostly!" 

"Will you relax?" Selina sounds like she can't believe Harley may be a bit agitated after spending a whole day thinking she's going to die and/or mutate into a plant. "I'm sick of watching you two idiots pretend that ," she points in the general direction of Harley and Ivy, "is just a couple of gals being pals. Figured I'd help you out."

"Help!?" Harley could just-- God , she could just smash Selina's face in with her bat. But she suddenly realizes there's a much more pressing issue to handle before revenge can even begin to be considered. "Shit, Red," Harley takes one step back to look at Ivy, and for the first time ever she's surprised to see she can't read the look in her eyes, "I didn't mean-- you know I didn't mean any of it, right?" For a split second Harley swears something like pain flashes behind green eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "I was just worried and I-- I got in my head about it. But you know I didn't mean it. You know , right? Pammy?"

It takes Ivy a few seconds to answer, and when she does she sounds... different. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

For some reason, it doesn't sound as reassuring as Harley though it would.

"Come on, Ive--" Selina tries to keep talking, but Ivy cuts her off.

"Listen, we're done here. So I'm just gonna..." Ivy shakes her head like she's trying to physically clear it of thoughts and feelings and general clutter, "I'm just gonna go home."

Harley feels like she's stuck to the floor. She just stands there, silent and frozen in place as she watches Ivy leave. She knows this isn't right. She knows something  just happened -- something she can't quite wrap her brain around right now. All she knows is Ivy's leaving, and she wants her to stay but she doesn't know how to make her body move or make any noises until her gaze drops to the desk and she sees the little plant right there.

"Ive!" Harley grabs the pot and runs out just in time to see Ivy's vines lifting her up through the same skyline they used to get in. "Ivy, you forgot the plant!"

But Ivy doesn't come back.

[angstbabyjae]

DSMP Tier List

This tier list was shared in a discord server I’m in, so I thought I’d give it a go. Not entirely satisfied with the section titles, so I used them quite liberally. I will explain why I put people where I did. On the tier itself I didn’t order them by preference but in my explanation I will. Please not that they will be ranked from favorite to least favorite per category (for example: I put Sapnap technically above Niki despite liking her character more) and not by how much they deserve to be in each category (for example: I prefer Technoblade to Phil but I believe people excuse Technoblade’s actions more than Phil’s). I encourage healthy suggestion in the comments since I only joined the fandom around the Green Festival and haven’t seen the history/POV’s of every character, though I try. Enjoy.

Gonna slap on a big ol’ “/rp” here just to be safe.

You've done nothing wrong come here (holds you gently)

So the thing about this section is that I don't believe any dream smp character is completely innocent, so I used this section more like a top of tier than as it's title implies.

1. TommyInnit

Ngl, Tommy is my favorite character in the Dream SMP. As a fellow Loud Person I relate to him a lot and his feelings that nobody really likes him. His mental health struggles are close to my heart and (SPOILERS) his death just made me so devastated. I really hope they don't end his arc like this. Not when he was just starting to heal, please. Tommy has certainly done a lot of things wrong. I'd highly recommend watching the exile decision from both Tubbo and Tommy's POV's because you can really get a grasp of their mindsets. Despite this, he is my fave.

2. Ranboo

Until recently I preferred Tubbo to Ranboo, but cc!Ranboo just totally outdid himself on lore and acting to the point where I couldn't deny it anymore. Ranboo did do *some* things wrong, but they are less extreme than many on this list (I don't count things he might have done under Dream's control since he wasn't conscious). Ranboo's character makes me go into protecc mode. So yeah, very good enderboi.

3. Tubbo_

Tubbo doesn't have much lore for his character, but like I do with many others on this list, I like to overanalyze and interpret certain characters to be deeper than they are. The Tubbo I have in my head is a lot more complex than what cc!Tubbo probably meant to portray. There is so much angst potential with his character, similar to many others, but what puts him top tier for me is the emotional connection I have to his character and how I relate to getting so much put on my shoulders and having to make tough decisions.

you're an amazing character

Okay so technically Schlatt should be on this list if we are speaking from a narrative standpoint, but seeing as the way OP labelled the other sections on this chart I'm guessing they meant morally as well.

4. Alex Quackity

Quackity is my favorite adult character. I don't even know why, I just love the idea of this comic relief character becoming such a catalyst for plot and more serious as time goes on. I love taking the dream smp characters and making them deeper than they probably are, as I do with Tubbo, but now it seems cc!Quackity is fully taking his character to the height of his potential and I can't wait to see what he does with him next.

5. AweSamDude

(SPOILERS) As such a big Tommy fan I must admit, my first thought when Tommy died was that Sam was partly responsible. If Dream told him what he did to Tommy in exile like he claims then he would have at least put up the obsidian barrier between them or something. After watching Ranboo's most recent stream (right now it's March 3rd) I understand why Sam did what he did more. My initial anger towards him has dissipated a bit. I still love his character so much. He really did care about Tommy and now... dang. I can't wait to see what happens with him next.

6. Captain Puffy

It was very close between ranking her or Sam higher, but given all the in depth character stuff we're getting from Sam right now, I'd have to rank him above. Despite this, Puffy is a character that I started out not knowing anything about and am now feeling her climb the ranks in my books. Sometimes I feel like she's the only adult who actually put Tommy's well-being above other things, despite them not interacting often. I wasn't around for the whole "duckling" thing with Dream and have yet to watch the VODs, but I just want her to visit him now and punish him for the Tommy stuff. (SPOILERS) I can feel Dream's next ploy being trying to convince someone to let him out in exchange for bringing back Tommy and if Sam doesn't cave then Puffy probably will. Also, I really hope that her and Niki's relationship isn't forgotten. There's so much angst potential there. Also, I need sapphics to survive.

7. Eret

So, I wasn't a fan of the SMP during season one. I hadn't even heard of it except for like my friend referencing Technoblade now and then. After watching some VODs of Eret's I am slowly starting to fall in love with her characterization. I am so soft for their redemption arc, for the regret he feels. Now that cc!Eret is back from their mental health break I am so ready for more.

8. Fundy

Fundy's a character that I will forget how much I love until he goes live again, or until I reread his old quotes. He has a lot of lore to him that surprises you every time you remember. Whether its his last speech to Schlatt to COCONUT 2020, Fundy always gives the audience something more to think about.

9. "Ghostbur"

Ghostbur is one of the few characters who genuinely make me want to cry. cc!Wilbur's performance was both hilarious and immaculate. I really want to find out more about his lore, though. Do all dead people with unfinished business get an alternate version of themselves to roam the Earth while you stay in the afterlife unable to make contact unless the veil is thin? Was Ghostbur just Wilbur pretending the whole time? (SPOILERS) Is Tommy going to get one? Is Glatt canon? Much to think about.

10. BadBoyHalo

While I despise egg-possessed BBH, normal BBH has my entire heart. The fact he gave up his mind for Skeppy is *chef's kiss*. I am very impressed with everything cc!BBH is writing right now.

11. Karl Jacobs

My second favorite polyamorous dimension hopper after Star Butterfly (let me have Startomco please)! TFTSMP just gets better and better each week. His time travel shenanigans are so fun and mysterious. Karlnapity is just a big ol' pot of angst just waiting to happen. WEDDING SOON PLEASE!

no intense opinion

While I do have opinions on some of these characters, they aren't intense enough to place them anywhere else.

12. Ponk

I don't watch him all that often since he's live during my school time, but what I've seen I love. Him starting that whole side plot expanding on that one TFTSMP episode intrigues me and I can see it tying into the egg somehow. Him and Sam are really cute together (/rp) and I want him to become more plot relevant again.

13. Antfrost

GAY CAT GAY CAT GAY CAT! In all seriousness, I really want him to do stuff with his character to make him more than just BBH's second-in-command (I have similar feelings with Skeppy, but I know he isn't very big on lore). Side note, but I really love the hc that RedVelvetCake is inside the egg. I want him to join so bad.

14. Purpled

I've only just started watching the actual clips from pre-L'Manberg times and Purpled was once much more plot involved than I thought. Him planning on getting his revenge on Tommy at the same time as the "police" investigating the Camarvan back in early season one was comedy gold. Shout out to BlueberryTV on YouTube for making it so easy to watch. In conclusion, we stan an underage mercenary.

15. GeorgeNotFound

Idk if this is a hot take or not, but I feel a good portion of people who love George's character are just DNF shippers who want to turn his crumbs into an angst factory, but you know what? Valid. While I am not a DNF shipper, I have seen the angst y'all have brought to the table and very much appreciate it.

16. ConnorEatsPants

The most I think I've seen of Connor has been the hostage scene and the non-canon party scene from this season. I don't have much to say except that his small speech to Tommy after he was let go about him not being a bad person despite traumatizing him hit surprisingly hard in the feels.

17. Skeppy

cc!Skeppy is not a big roleplayer, and I get that, it's just sometimes his character feels a little like an accessory to Bad's character. Please link me some good Skeppy moments in the comments if you can, I want to try and learn more about his character. His angst with Bad right now is top tier, though, and I choose to believe that Big Daddy Island is canon and that Bad took him there to keep him free from the egg. I actually wrote a fic about this if you want to check it out! Mind the tags, though, I went a little macabre with it.

18. HBomb

When I first learned about the SMP it was two nights before the green festival and I was up until 3am at my aunt's house reading the plot summary. The first clip of the smp I saw was the election VOD, where HBomb joined for the first time. I don't know much about him other than the fact he was Fundy's maid for a time and it was absolutely hilarious. I saw the recent stuff with him leaving Greater SMP to start over and enjoyed it. Hope we get more stuff like that with him.

19. Callahan

Gets all the ladies. What else can I say?

you're trying your best and I respect that

20. Sapnap

I put Sapnap here because he's on his way to becoming an amazing character. The angst stuff with Dream is the stuff George fans can only dream of (pun unintended). I like how he went from the cop, the pet killer, Dream's right hand man, to mushroom cottegecore gay living his best life and dealing with the pain of losing his best friend. The whole "Dream's bitch" conversation with Tommy that I saw an animatic for some time ago made me hurt so good. Also #KarlnapityWedding2021.

you're redeemable, thin fucking ice though

These are characters who I somewhat dislike to a degree, but still have hope for. In my opinion this section should be switched with the one after it in terms of which is worse, but oh well.

21. Wilbur Soot

I know he's already dead but if he's brought back to life I want a redemption arc from him back. (SPOILERS) If neither him nor Tommy come back to life then dsmp has a horrible track record with killing off their mentally ill and (tw) suicidal characters. Wilbur has done some awful things, but if he's brought back I don't think he'd be beyond saving.

22. Jack Manifold

I need to say something about Jack. He is so very very close to being in the "you're trying your best" section right now after his most recent stream. His redemption arc is so close I can taste it and if he is redeemed right I can see him joining my faves. His most recent stream was just so well acted that my heart just wants to forgive him already... until my brain remembers he tried to nuke a child. Don’t know if this is also a hot take, but I think he had more of a right to be mad at Tommy than Niki did, but I know for Niki it's more complicated than that.

23. Niki Nihachu

There was a time that I adored Niki Nihachu and a part of me still does, but she has gone a little bit off the deep end. I do understand it's a trauma response, though. cc!Niki said that her villain arc is almost over, which disappointed me a bit because we kinda barely got to see it since it was so overshadowed, but I am also relieved. I just want my wlw baker back :(

people excuse your actions more than you deserve

I am just going to pretend that this section doesn't say "love". I still like these characters a lot even though they get away with a lot of shit.

24. Technoblade

I love Technoblade too much for him to be ranked this low, but like I said this ranking is based on fitting the section descriptions, not how much I love them. Technoblade's POV is understandable but also that doesn't excuse the pain he's caused so many people. L'Manberg was more than it's a government as much as Techno is more than a weapon.

25. Philza Minecraft

Philza deserves to be in this section a little less than Technoblade because I actually agree with a lot of what Philza fans say. Tommy is not Philza's kid. Phil has a lot of trauma around killing Wilbur, yes. I just don't see how you could watch Ghostbur's Friend speech during Doomsday and think he was in the right for doing it.

i don't like you

26. JSchlatt

JSchlatt is an amazing character in many ways. The acting? Glorious. The dialogue? Spot on. With that being said, YAYY HE'S DEAD!!! I really like leaning into the abusive relationship hc with him and his cabinet. He was probably the most fun villain we've ever had, though.

I WANT THIS MOTHER FUCKER DEAD

27. DreamWasTaken

Come on, do I even have to explain?

[kuroopaisen]

update

hello hello! 

so i’m going to put most of this under the cut, because it’ll be Long, but the tl;dr is: i’m taking a short break (probably a week, maybe a little longer) from the blog, and in the mean time ren (@w-yuren) will be babysitting it for me. by babysitting i mean that she’ll be posting fics if i happen to write or finish any during my time off, and she’ll let me know about any asks or other important things (basically she’s keeping me accessible). so if you have something you want to ask me or something you want to say, you can! 

i’ll still be writing during my time off, and also i’ll be checking my main intermitted for commissions & whatnot. 

if you need to contact me, please message my main, @rowann, or through my discord. i’m not disappearing and i’ll still be contactable.

basically i just don’t want to suddenly disappear and make people go ??? because i know i overthink and get worried very easily, so!

also, thank you to everyone who’s been so lovely to me. whether that’s your nice comments and tags, your asks, or whatever, i really, truly appreciate it, and it does more for me than you could ever know. it may only be a couple of minutes out of your day, and you might not think much of it, but it really does make my heart go !!!!! 

you do NOT have to read between the cut, it is just word vomit (and it could be upsetting for some people), but! everything i’ve said above is what’s importing. 

okay so i’m putting this under the cut because it’s not important but i do want to explain myself. 

so basically i’ve been in a very Weird headspace (i’m not going to go into it bc it’s a bit personal and i don’t want to say anything that potentially puts anyone else in That mindset), and tumblr’s been,,, less than great for it, i’ll be honest. 

but, i didn’t just want to drop off the face of the earth or abandon the blog or anything like that. knowing me, i’d likely slip into that space of Not Writing for Six Months and honestly? i think i’ve got a pretty good thing going here. 

which is largely why i’m letting ren babysit for a while so kuroopaisen doesn’t just fade into that good night. 

i will be writing while i’m away, but i’ve been having a Lot of insecurities about it and i think i need some time to just,,, be alone with it, if that makes sense? like i’ll still be posting it, but the less time i’m on the platform the better i’ll feel about it, i’m sure. 

basically, i’ve been stuck in this loop of “oh, you want to publish in the future, but you’re not even good enough to write ship-fic; you’re just writing x reader fic and therefore your skills will never improve past what you can already do.” which is very strange for me, because i don’t believe that one is better than the other in it’s essence; but my brain works against me a lot of the time, and there are plenty of things i berate myself for despite not even believing the sentiment behind them. 

so, that’s a big reason about why i need to be alone with my writing, i think; i need to remember why i enjoy it, and why i never used to care about the fact that i wasn’t writing the Distinguished Ship Fic. i want to remember why i like to write, and not be so caught up in what i’m doing or not doing or the purported value of what i’m doing. 

i know x reader fic gets made fun of, but i like the freedom and flexibility in it. and, i like not having the pressure of not only accounting for characterisation, but pre-established relationships that also have longstanding fandom preferences behind them. and yet, i’m still getting insecure over all that. 

also for me personally, the talk of ratios and silent readers has really been getting to my head. it’s been making me feel like my ratio isn’t Good Enough and therefore that’s a reflection of my ability (again, something i don’t believe at all -- i think the number of notes doesn’t measure the quality of a piece of work, nor do i believe my followers are obligated to engage with my work in any way past reading what interests them when they want to). 

but again, even though i don’t believe it, it’s been making my brain go brr. and honestly, i see a lot of the bitterness that surrounds the issue of ‘silent readers’ and ratios and all that, and i’m very Sensitive TM, so seeing all that talk always puts me in a weird headspace. 

i guess i just kind of get left in this space of wondering how i’m supposed to feel about my own writing and how i’m supposed to think about the process and i don’t like being in that weird, doubtful space when it comes to how i approach writing. i don’t like asking myself ‘what are you doing this for?’ because i usually know. 

and that’s on me! i know my limits, and i know when i need to remove myself from situations. so, that’s what i’m doing, just for a little bit. and i know that i shouldn’t be so effected by other people, but unfortunately i am. i’m working on it, but we all trip sometimes. 

there’s just,,, a lot going on in my brain, and i know it’s my responsibility to do what’s best for me. so, i’m just trying this out to see if it helps me recentre myself and feel a little better. 

[leigh-kelly]

The Nanny

So the last thing I should be doing is writing a new fic, but this is a gift for @yourstreetserenade who has been an absolute gift to this fandom especially during such a difficult time. I’m not sure how frequent updates will be, but they will come!

Just after finishing with four separate brides in the bridal shop she works at in Flushing, Queens, Brittany Pierce hops up on the counter and crosses her legs, tossing her head back. Sugar Motta grabs a bottle of water and thrusts it into Brittany’s hand, before jumping up on the counter next to her. The two of them sit in silence for several minutes, taking in the fact that they have no customers, before the bell on the door tinkles and Brittany takes a swig out of the bottle and climbs down, smoothing her dress.

“Oh, hey Dani.” She grins, walking over to her girlfriend. Before she can give her a kiss, Dani puts her hand up, and Brittany furrows her brow.

“No kiss?”

“Look, Brittany, we need to talk.”

“Uh, sure, shoot.”

“Somewhere private.” Dani gestures over to Sugar, who makes herself look busy with her boss’ presence in the store.

“Don’t worry, no one’s in here.” Sugar pops her gum and sticks a pin into the dress on one of the mannequins.

“You are, Sugar. Brittany, let’s go into my office.”

“Aw c’mon Dan, I’ve told you a thousand times, if you tell me something, I’m just going to tell Sugar anyway, you may as well just say it. Besides, we’ve had a real rush in here today, and I don’t wanna leave her stranded if it happens again.”

“Fine.” Dani sighs, exasperated. “We’ve had a good run, Britt, but there’s someone else.”

“Someone else? What are you talking about? We’re pre-engaged.”

“Yeah!” Sugar agrees. “We’ve already been picking out Brittany’s wedding dress.”

“Sugar, this is really a couple’s conversation.”

“How are you going to say it’s a couple’s conversation if you just said we’re not a couple anymore?” Brittany tries to hold back her tears, but she finds that she’s failing miserably. “How could you do this?”

“It just happened, Quinn and I ran into each other a few weeks ago at—”

“Quinn? You’re breaking up with me for Quinn Fabray? How am I supposed to work here knowing that you’re sleeping with that shameless hussy?”

“You sound a little like your mother, Britt.” Sugar interjects.

“Shut up, Sugar.”

“Well, about that.” Dani wrings her hands in front of her body. “Quinn needs a job, and, well…”

“So not only are you breaking up with me, you’re firing me?” Brittany grabs her purse from behind the counter and makes toward the door as Dani reaches for her. “Don’t touch me. You can’t fire me, I quit!” She pushes the door open, gets halfway through and turns around. “No, you fired me, that way I can collect unemployment.”

----

“Kurt!” Santana Lopez calls out, sitting behind the desk in her home office and shuffling through a stack of paperwork. “Come in here!”

“You bellowed, Ms. Lopez?” Kurt opens the door, adjusting his tie.

“Have any of the prospective nannies arrived yet? Rachel is on me—”

“She wishes.” He mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“Rachel is on me about the party on Saturday night. If Tyler scares one more nanny away, I’m sending him to boarding school.”

Santana puts her head in her hands on continues to go through her paperwork. Ever since her wife died five years ago, she’s been overwhelmed by the demands of her career and taking care of her three children. Valerie, the oldest, had been thrust into puberty and is off the walls with her emotions, Tyler does everything in his power to force anyone who came into the house to leave, and Abigail, the baby, is in therapy twice a week and trying to deal with the fact that she barely remembers her mother at all, but sometimes Santana thinks it’s making her worse, not better. On top of all that, she has Rachel who is constantly demanding every moment of her attention, and she’s been through eight nannies who just can’t seem to manage her children, so she can give the focus she needs to her career.

“There’s the bell.” Kurt breaks her from her thoughts. “Let’s hope the ninth time’s the charm and this nanny that the agency sent over can actually manage Master Tyler.”

“Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute, I just need to finish up in here.”

“Yes, Ms. Lopez.”

Kurt exits the room and goes to answer the door. Standing before him is a leggy blonde in a bright pink mini dress and stiletto heels. She’s not exactly what he expected from the agency and is certainly a far cry from any of the other nannies they’ve seen over the past five years, but he steps back and lets her in.

“Ms. Lopez says she’ll be right with you. I expect you have your resume?”

“Resume? I—uh…” The blonde clutches the makeup kit she carries close to her chest and looks around.

“Yes, resume. You know, the list of your previous experience as a nanny, which I presume you have quite a bit of?”

“Resume. Nanny. Right. Yeah, I, uh…totally have it. Say, butler man, do you think I could get a glass of water?”

“As you wish.”

When Kurt leaves the room to get her a glass of water, Brittany scrambles through her makeup kit. She had no intention of applying for a job as a nanny, she was just at this gorgeous mansion to try and sell makeup so she could get out of her parents’ house, now that she was no longer living with Dani, but like she always thought, when opportunity knocks, she’s got to answer. Unfortunately, all she has with her is an order form and a few tubes of lipstick, but she’ll make do, quickly scribbling her name and phone number in Monroe Red along the back of the form and trying to write down her years of working at Dani’s Discount Bridal before the butler comes back with her water. She’s just about finished when a dark-haired boy bursts into the room clutching a knife to his chest and collapses on the floor with a pool of ketchup staining his white shirt.

“Eh, mediocre performance.” She stands over his twitching body and his eyes pop open. “Next time, you want to get some of that fake costume blood off of Amazon. Ketchup is so 1990s.”

“I’ll have you know.” The boy feigns a gasp. “I’m dying here.”

“We’re all dying, kid.” Brittany laughs. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“I’m just making conversation. So, you live here, or what?”

“No.” He deadpans. “I just hang around random mansions looking to scare unsuspecting nannies.”

“You’ve really gotta get better at this scaring thing. I’m telling you, I could give you some tips that’ll have you winning Academy Awards.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve scared off seven nannies in five years, and if you’d stop messing with my plan, you’d be number eight.”

“I don’t scare easily, you’ve never met my mother. Trust me, she’ll tell you the story of the time she thought she had to poop, gave birth to me in a barn and wrapped me up in a Mr. Submarine wrapper, and you’ll be scarred for life.”

“Ew.” The boy sticks out his tongue. “That’s disgusting, and I don’t think my mother would appreciate you telling me that story.”

“Your mother will make that decision.” Brittany’s jaw nearly hits the floor when a gorgeous brunette in a pencil skirt and blazer steps into the room. “Santana Lopez, it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss—”

“Pierce. Brittany Pierce.”

“Miss Pierce. Now what was this story you were telling my son?”

“Oh…I…uh…never mind.” Brittany stammers. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Well, you haven’t run screaming from the house yet, so I suppose that’s going well. Tyler, go get Valerie and Abigail.”

“But Mom—”

“Go.” She shoos him off, and Brittany can’t help but stare at the woman in front of her.

“Santana—”

“I’d prefer if you call me Ms. Lopez, thank you.”

“Right, sorry, Ms. Lopez. Um…he’s a character.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She sighs. “Your resume, please.”

“Oh…yeah. Well, I kind of forgot to bring one with me, but I have this.” Brittany hands over the lipstick scrawled paper, and Santana holds it between two fingers.

“So, you came to an interview without a resume? Is that lipstick?”

“Well, I’m kind of having a bad week, you know how that goes.” She bites her lip, figuring she may as well just show herself the door.

“You’re not here for the interview, are you?”

“I—look, I wasn’t exactly called her for an interview, but I’m telling you, I’m great with kids. I have like…thirty-six little cousins, and I could totally be a nanny.”

“Yet you have no experience. I see here that you worked for…Dani’s Discount Bridal?”

“Mom!” A little girl with her hair in long braids tumbles into the room, and Brittany smiles at how much she looks like San—Ms. Lopez. “Tyler pushed me again!”

“Kid, what’s your deal?” Brittany asks him. “Why do you want everyone not to like you?”

“You can’t talk to me like that! Mom, tell her she can’t talk to me like that!”

“She’s not wrong Tyler. How many times have I had to tell you to keep your hands off your sister?”

“I don’t know.” He rolls his eyes. “About a billion.”

“Look, Miss Pierce, clearly I need more help here than you’re qualified to give. Thank you for coming, I’ll have Kurt see you out.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.”

Kurt enters the living room again holding Brittany’s water, which he immediately sets down on the coffee table, sensing the tone of the room. While he’s escorting Brittany to the door, she catches a glimpse of the oldest Lopez child and she sighs, thinking that she probably could have made some kind of difference in their lives, even if she doesn’t necessarily have any formal training as a nanny. When she gets to the door, another short brunette enters, who gives her a dirty look, and she just exits without another word.

“Santana!” Rachel cries out, looking at the ketchup on Tyler’s shirt with disgust before the kids all scatter from the room in her wake. “I’ve been on the phone all morning with the caterer for Saturday night. I’m telling you, if this party is a disaster, then we’re never going to get the funding we need for our play. They’re going to immediately jump ship and support the next Lin Manuel Miranda production, and we’ll be out in the cold again.”

“Rachel, it’s going to be fine. I just have to focus on getting a nanny for these kids today, and then Saturday will go off without a hitch.”

“What was the matter with that one? Scared off again by Lord Ketchup?”

“No.” Santana looks to the door, feeling like perhaps she’s made some kind of mistake just as the phone rings. “She’s just not right for our family.”

“Well, you better find someone who’s right. We have three million dollars riding on Saturday night being a success, and as much as I adore your children, I just don’t think having them run around our cocktail party will do anyone any favors.”

“Yes, I’m aware, you’ve told me that about forty-six times this week.”

“Ms. Lopez.” Kurt interrupts. “It’s the nanny agency on the phone for you.”

“Rachel, I have to take this. Go into my office and look over the notes for our pitch.”

“You know that I’m your partner, not your employee, right?”

“Okay.” Santana pinches the bridge of her nose. “Decide if you want to look over the notes for our pitch so you can be prepared for Saturday night.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” Rachel chirps. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Great.” She takes the phone from Kurt and sinks down onto the couch. “Santana Lopez speaking.”

“Ms. Lopez, this is Mindy from the agency. Unfortunately, the interviewee we were sending out to you today was offered another job and has decided to cancel. I can get someone else to you on Monday, maybe Tuesday.”

“Monday or Tuesday isn’t good enough.” Santana snaps. “I’ve told you a dozen times that I need someone for this weekend.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.”

“You have got to be kidding me. I have three kids who need a nanny, and I have an event Saturday night. Next week is unacceptable.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it work.”

“Goddamnit.” Santana hangs up the phone and looks at Kurt desperately. “Why is it so hard to find good help in this town?”

“I believe I can still decipher the lipstick on Miss Pierce’s ‘resume.’” Kurt offers. “Maybe you ought to give her a shot. She certainly wasn’t afraid of Master Tyler.”

“She has no experience. And did you see what she was wearing? What kind of influence on Valerie would I be bringing into this house?”

“You certainly seemed a little…preoccupied with her wardrobe if I do say so myself.”

“Honestly, shut up.”

“You need a nanny before Saturday, and she clearly needs a job. Hire her on a trial basis, then you at least have yourself covered and you can resume your interviews next week.”

[shinidamachu]

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: InuYasha, Kagome, movie night trope and my Disney obsession walk into a bar... Pre-canon fluff. Word Count: 2.159 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Time to go to bed, birthday boy.” Mrs. Higurashi planted a kiss to Sota’s forehead and the sleepy child grunted softly.

“I’m not tired.” He protested, immediately yawning and contradicting his already fragile point.

“Yes, you are. Come on, now. It’s late. Grandpa is sleeping and I’d like to rest too.”

InuYasha observed the two of them interacting, as he often did. There was a feeling that always came along with it. He couldn’t quite put a nail on the head of it. Something between the most harmless kind of envy and the saddest type of longing. The sensation of a beautiful dream that escaped him by morning, forever out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to make the pieces of it to rise up again in the horizon of his mind.

He remembered his mother to be just as tender.

But did she ever kiss his forehead that way? Did they ever argue over sleeping time, InuYasha and his boyish stubbornness, she and her heavenly patience? How much of her was truly a memory and how much was his wishful imagination? The longer the years went, the thinner the line separating illusion from reality got. InuYasha feared the day would come, when he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

“Fine.” The boy gave in, fatigue stronger then his will and eyes barely open as he stood up and made his way upstairs. “Good night, everybody!”

“Sleep well!” Kagome replied.

“G’night, kid.” 

“InuYasha,” Called Mrs. Higurashi, “I take you’re spending the night?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, dear! We don’t have a spare room, but we do have extra pillows. Kagome can get you one or two. Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

InuYasha turned to Kagome, who promptly took his questioning look for what it was. Smiling, she tapped the comfortable surface of the furniture they were currently sitting on, mouthing ‘couch’ to translate her mother’s intentions.

It still caught him off guard, the extent of caring that lady nurtured for his well being. She had absolutely no obligation to. No motivation, other than the pure compassion of her heart. The same compassion he saw in her daughter.

“Oh! No, I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”

When it came to Kagome’s mom, he couldn’t help to be overly-polite. Even if by other people’s standards, that equaled to merely being polite. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, but that went beyond returning her gentle favors, it was crucial to be in the woman’s good graces. Maybe a small part of him wanted to be reminded how did it feel, getting used to motherly kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you two stay up too late. I won’t let you go off to fight demons in the feudal era without a proper breakfast.”

“We won’t.” Kagome assured her. And that appeared to be enough. 

Following after her son, Mrs. Higurashi wished them sweet dreams and before he knew it, he was alone with Kagome.

It was Sota’s birthday, which, InuYasha learned, meant that a decade ago, on this exact day, the little guy was born. To celebrate the occasion, his family reserved the whole day so they could share delicious meals and bask on each other’s company. And to InuYasha’s surprise, his presence was requested there as well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he stayed over, but it was the first time her mom was aware of it. More than aware, encouraged him to do it. Even if InuYasha was fluent in the language of affection, even if he found the perfect words to explain it, he doubted one day she’d understand how much he valued her trust and acceptance.

Kagome cuddled up to InuYasha under the blanket they shared, tangling their arms and allowing her head to fall on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened in response. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on him or did she know just what she was doing? He was never able to figure it out. Regardless, resisting the sense of serenity that came with every aftershock was an impossible thing to do. As usual, InuYasha quickly surrendered. And as long as white flags consisted on leaning towards her touch, he was no opposed to it.

“She stayed.” and mesmerised, InuYasha stared at the magical box in front of them — a television, Kagome had told him. In her world, it seemed, there was something new to learn whenever he thought he had everything figured out. For the past four or so hours, they had been watching story after story unfold inside the strange device and Kagome had taken advantage of her brother’s crescent exhaustion to play some of her favorites.

“She couldn’t leave him there to die! He just saved her life.”

“Isn’t he a demon of sorts?”

“A beast.”

“Then it would have been fine, either way. He’s clearly stronger than humans.”

“Maybe. But she needed to see it for herself.”

“Why?”

Kagome sighed. 

“Because she’s already falling in love with him.”

Frowning, he mentally replayed the scenes, searching his brain for the signals he had so obviously missed.

The beast character was in love. InuYasha had no doubt about it. The girl had his heart the instant she volunteered to take her father’s place as his prisoner. He longed for her presence — despite her refusal to indulge him — and put effort into treating her nicely — despite not extending the same courtesy to anyone else. Everything she said, everything she did, had the power to drag him down or sweep him off his feet. He struggled with expressing the sentiment, his pride and bad temper getting in the way. But it was there. The situation was all too relatable for InuYasha not to recognize it.

The girl, though? The idea of her falling in love with the likes of him was absurd. Why would she? It was to be expected that someone graced with such intelligence and beauty would have known her own value better than to fall for a monster.

And yet, Kagome was right.

The tale went on and the girl took the beast to safety. A life for a life. They were even. She was free to go.

Still, she stayed by his side until he healed and every day after that. Because she could see right through his tough facade and was never being afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. And he saw her in return, welcoming the habits her own village judged her for maintaining. Against all odds, they understood each other like the last two native speakers of a tongue long claimed by oblivion.

Of their own accord, InuYasha’s eyes fell into Kagome.

“The best part is coming up.” She announced, thankfully snapping him out of his treacherous thoughts.

Song started playing, a sweet melody filling the air. All of the sudden, Kagome was moving the furniture around.

“Watcha doin’?”

Rather than responding, the priestess took him by the hand and guided him to the center of the room. Dumbfound, InuYasha watched as she silently raised his arm at shoulders height, placing his free palm firmly on her back right after.

By the time InuYasha picked up her intentions, they were already spinning around, dancing barefoot under the television light.

InuYasha had never learned how to dance. Between a battle for his life and the next, the opportunity didn’t present itself and, to be honest, the notion he was missing out on something hadn’t occurred to him. The whole thing seemed so out of his brutal reality, it was almost futile.

And despite finding himself wishing he had the necessary skills to better follow her movements, InuYasha discovered dancing with Kagome to be a surprisingly easy task. There was something peculiarly natural about the way she rested her head over his chest as they slowly swayed to the rhythm. He wondered if she noticed the inflation of it as he breathed her in, the scent he had grown to love so much overflowed his senses with a hint of corn and butter.

Kagome pulled away from him on cue with the song, using the hand holding hers to whirl away from him without ever breaking contact, only to swirl back to his embrace. The more they repeated the steps, the more his confidence grew and, passed the awkward phase, InuYasha was actually enjoying himself.

Too soon, the tune came to an end.

InuYasha stood there, unsure of what to do. Self awareness manifested itself hot pink on his cheeks. He had just danced with Kagome. And he had liked it. And he wanted to keep going.

She stared at him, a big smile on her face as if he was the one to give her a present and not the other way around.

“I always wanted to do that,” she confessed in a nervous laugh. Her gaze avoided his but her body remained in place, pleasantly close. “Anyway… Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to Sota.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

Belle… Are you… Happy here with me?

Yes!

The distant voices brought the half demon down to Earth. For a second there, he had forgotten all about everything that wasn’t her. Their words sank in and InuYasha felt his curiosity blossom. He had to ask, even if the answer scared the shit out of him.

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Happy there with me... Are you?”

“Of course!” Guaranteed Kagome. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

There was an unspoken rule to never talk about it. The subject was too delicate, too painful to discuss. Kagome being Kikyo’s reincarnation and falling down that well was not an unpretentious whim of fate. It carried purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled… Well, he’d rather fight Naraku over and over than having to face the dreading thought of an after.

Miroku and Sango had their future set. Defeating Naraku meant getting rid of the Wind Tunnel and setting Kohaku free, one way or the other. They could finally get married, start a family. Even Shippo had plans to keep doing those fox demon exams in order to improve his powers. InuYasha seemed to be the only one in the dark. His goal was to become a full demon, but that was then. What he wanted now and who he wanted with, had changed into something way more uncertain.

When they defeat Naraku, Kagome won’t hang out in his era as often. Without any further obligations there, she could dispense as many time she judged appropriate for her school thing and they would only see each other sporadically.

There was also the real possibility the Honekui no Ido would close forever. With their mission done, so was the need to allow their temporal trips, and that meant separation. As far as logic goes, he didn’t belong in her world and she didn’t belong in his. 

Yet, she fitted  into his life so well.

The prospect of Kagome choosing to live in the past with him was his favorite ‘what if’. But he had no right to ask her such thing of her, nor was he selfish to the point of actually doing it. She was his friend and even if they were something more, it was crazy to think she would drop her friends, family and everything she knows just for him. How could he ever compete with that?

“I dunno, you do run off here a lot. I guess I just thought you didn’t like there as much.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way, InuYasha. But it’s not the case at all. It’s just… I have a life here too, you know?”

“Keh. ‘Course I do.”

She smiled fondly

“Aren’t I lucky to have two places to call home?”

Something inside him melted into a smile of his own.

Their tomorrow was a cloudy day. Changeable and blurry. All he could do was hoping it would clear up.

Of one thing, though, InuYasha was certain: if she so wanted, he could leave everything behind and stay in her side of the well as it closes. The place was loud, too crowded for his taste and the smells were overwhelming, but they would be together and for him that was home.

“I suppose.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the movie. It has the perfect ending.”

Doing as he was told, InuYasha walked to the couch, where Kagome nestled against him again.

Maybe it was foolish not telling her how he felt, how he have been feeling for a while now. It sounded insane to ignore the fear of losing her, of losing his home, always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe he was a mad man for keeping all of the things he desperately needed reassurance of at bay in exchange of enjoying that moment with her.

But right then, the hope of another dance was enough.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS S-

Thank you all for reading. Maybe you've noticed I'm writing fluff stories a little more. I feel like it's not my best suit so I'm trying to give it practice. Still have a lot to improve and this wasn't edited, so be nice.

Anyway... Here is something sweet for @sophtin​ (and my self indulgent ass). Hope you rot your teeth, baby.

[colorseeingchick]

The Inevitable Dystopia of My Hero Academia (WITHOUT manga spoilers)

As noted by your local political science anime lover.

(This is a summary/rambling about a political science paper I wrote on My Hero. This is only based on the anime. I’m not caught up on the manga)

Warnings: Vague reference to abuse (Endeavor), discussion of political theory, discourse.

A/N: It’s lengthy and all over the place. It also might be impossible to follow. So I’m sorry in advance lol.

THESE ARE JUST MY OPINIONS AND A FORM OF DISCOURSE. I’m open to discussing if you have thoughts! Political science is about understanding policy and structures, not taking a stance. Any comparisons to ‘modern society’ are in reference to 1st world/developed societies, as those are the governments that parallel the My Hero Academia government. 

The politics of My Hero Academia is... pretty morbid if you ask me. It’s not worse than the real world, sure, but maybe that’s why it’s all the scarier. Even with quirks and super powers, the impossible becoming possible, it isn’t enough to save them from the undesirable. Their society seems to have fallen into a cycle of suffering and oppression that has no end. 

Now, I know no one really gets excited about political theory (unless you’re like me, then please be my friend), but there are some concepts that you’ll need to understand in order to follow along with my argument. So bear with me. 

First, utopia. Utopia is probably a term you’ve heard casually, but the definition political theorists hold it to is simply- “a good place.” Often times it is depicted as a far away dreamland, only possible in the realm of fiction (and this makes sense given that My Hero is fictional). It is very important to understand that utopia is not necessarily perfect. It’s just better than average. There are a few standards that characterize utopia, one being the utopian focus on having very strict laws to repress the unstable nature of mankind [1]. I’ll come back to this. 

Next is dystopia. Dystopia as an idea was actually made in response to utopia. It’s the ‘not-utopia,’ and is lumped with ‘anti-utopia’ (this comment is in reference to the semiotic square, if you would like to develop a further look into it). The simplest way to understand dystopia is to know it’s ‘a not-good place.’ [2] But that’s surprisingly broad. Dystopias can be a failed utopia, or they could have developed on their own as a result of any number of reasons. You’ve probably seen all sorts of depictions of dystopia (climate dystopias, medical dystopias, technology-based dystopias, literally any YA novel from my childhood, you get the idea). Its key to note that unlike an apocalypse, where there is utter destruction and it ends with complete annihilation of humanity, there is hope* inherently written into it. 

*Hope here meaning there’s theoretically a way for the government to be changed/overthrown without death of the majority. 

Now that all that boring stuff is out of the way- let’s talk about My Hero Academia. 

I’d argue that, at first glance, Hero Society seems to be working towards utopia. When reading from Deku’s perspective, especially in the beginning, you would think that their society is close to becoming utopian. The impossible is possible, being a hero is a reality, and a symbol of peace tangibly and definitively exists. When you compare it to pre-quirk society, these changes would appear to be developments. As for the ‘in progress’ aspect, I think Hawks verbalizes it best when he says his goal is for heroes to have too much time on their hands. They aren’t there yet, but if that goal is achieved, it would be a mark of utopia. 

They’ve achieved some level of utopian standards by meeting the ‘strict laws to repress the unstable nature’ standard. Think about the concept of licensing quirks, quirk regulation, and the government institutions that regulate quirk society. Remember when Tomura cornered Deku at the shopping mall and mentioned something along the lines of, ‘all these people could wield their quirks at any moment they want, but choose not to? Instead they smile and laugh.’ 

He has a point. Why is that? From a political theorist point of view, it’s honestly very shocking. For centuries, theorists have argued about how to manage human nature. It’s a difficult task as is. Give everyone superpowers? That would have to be 10x as chaotic. But in the My Hero world, it’s not. It’s well organized. The government took action to regulate the physical instability of humanity which arose from quirks. What’s so impressive to me is that they managed to mitigate (not eliminate) the instability of human nature/behavior along with it.

But if you take a step back to look at My Hero Academia, slowing down and stepping out of Deku’s shoes, I don’t think the instinct is to classify it as a utopia in progress. Of course, its superpowered with quirks- adding to the realm of possibility. But crime of all sorts is superpowered, just as the justice systems/law enforcement in the country. 

When I made this realization, I understood I had kind of been drawn into the propaganda the society puts out. It’s a sort of cloak built up by the positive media around the heroes, the narrative being focused on young heroes and their great mentors, and the universal title of ‘villain’ being put on everyone that breaks the government’s laws (this really bothers me, and maybe I’ll discuss it another time). Things aren’t better. Crime rates have gone down I believe, but the anti-hero sentiments being harbored are more intense than in certain real world societies. Hero society hasn’t necessarily resolved any of the problems that our society would have. The balance is the same, but the possible actions people can take, or the behaviors that are exhibited, are scaled up on both sides of the law.

What’s worse is that- even if its not a universal experience, this society is also a dystopia for many people. The first hint of this society being less than perfect is when we hear from Stain and his pursuit of a ‘just society’ by eliminating fraudulent heroes. His ideals are surprisingly level-headed, and very rigorous in standard, even if it is based in questionable morals. But it’s easy to brush it off. However, its less deniable as you learn more about these characters. 

Shigaraki was abandoned and waited for heroes to save him, but they didn’t. Overhaul was also an orphan living on the streets. Eri was abandoned by her mother because of her quirk. Twice was villainized, when in reality he has mental health issues (dissociative identity disorder I believe). It broke my heart when Twice said “heroes only save good people.” Who decided they were bad people? Why weren’t they saved?

Also, can we talk about the quirkism? (Which I don’t know if that’s a real term within this fandom yet, it might be, but just to be on the same page, I mean quirk-based discrimination) You have people like Shinsou, who’s treated as villain even though he wants be a hero- solely because of his quirk. I believe Toga was also treated poorly because of the nature of her quirk as well (correct me if I’m wrong). And then you have Midoriya, who was harassed and bullied for not having a quirk at all. Clearly none of them have control over the way they were born, and yet they all had to deal with how society treats them because of the uncontrollable. (At this point I’m sure its clear there are a lot of parallels with the discourse around quirkism, racism, and sexism, which is a whole nother conversation).

Having good quirks also seems to get you a pass, or puts you outside the reach of the law. The only example I need for this is Endeavor and his children. Despite all the abuse he’s done that makes him a villain in my book, he stays the number 2 hero. That’s all I need to say. 

The suffering of all these individuals is a direct result of the failure of the government. And this isn’t a ‘government should have taken extra steps to help them.’ This is a situation where the government’s structure, including the sensationalized media and monopolization of quirk use, has actively attacked and oppressed people who otherwise would have been untargeted. 

This is a world of misery for them- the people who make up the underworld. We call them villains and criminals because they are- but I don’t think its fair to call all of them bad people. They definitely didn’t start out that way. They are the results of suffering. They are created by a society that solely aims to remove them from existence. This hero society is so unjust that its faults create its own villains. The villains they aim to stop came to be because of the ‘heroes’ in the first place. The irony there is painful, and I hate that it’s a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. 

The reason why I think it’s morbid is because there is no escape. Quirk society in its current state is undeniably a dystopia for many. But the issue is (and this was the crux of my argument in my paper) dystopia and utopia inevitably and consistently coinhabit space. What is utopia to one will be a dystopia to another. There is no way to get everyone to uniformly view society. 

What that means is, somebody will always be suffering in this society. At least, that’s the cycle that’s been set up. In the episode where Tamaki got shot with a quirk erasing bullet and Kirishima fought the gangster on quirk enhancing drugs, that gangster did say that this was ‘their time’ to rise. “It’ll be the age of those who live in the shadows.” They’re not looking for resolution. They’re looking for revenge. They want to flip the script and be the ones living in utopia while everyone else is subject to suffering. The concept of everyone living happily in harmony and true peace isn’t even in consideration. 

There seems to be no middle ground, no solution to the push and pull between the ‘heroes’ and ‘villains.’ The unfairness will continue to be passed around, and unless someone can break the cycle, attack the corruption of the system at its roots,

the problem is not going to go away. 

Sources!

[1] Claeys, Gregory, and Fatima Vieira. “The Concept of Utopia.” In The         Cambridge Companion to Utopian Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

[2] Robinson , Kim Stanley. “Dystopias Now.” Commune, November 17, 2018.            https://communemag.com/dystopias-now/.

Copyright © 2020 Colorseeingchick. All rights reserved. 

[residentlesbrarian]

Fandom and Fanfiction Galore

Ship It by Britta Lundin

Aaaaaalrighty...so this was written almost 3 years ago hot out of ClexaCon 2018 and it is...an interesting one. I had and still very much have feelings about this book. Would I write my thoughts the exact same way today as I did back then...probably not! So enjoy this bit of a pre-pandemic pre-a-whole-bunch-of-other-personal-stuff-y’all-don’t-need-to-know-about me talking about a book I still don’t really know how I feel about! Enjoy!

This was another book I found because of the Queering YA panel at ClexaCon 2018. Being able to talk to Britta at the booth after the panel was awesome, because you could tell talking with her that she was a true fan. She knew what being surrounded by fandom was like and it made me pretty excited to read the book.

Unicorn Rating:

Blurb: Living in the environment of fandom can be an insane experience in both good and bad ways. This book delivered a unique experience and look into fandom culture that was surreal to read about outside of fanfiction and tumblr.

Disclaimer: I will try my best to not spoil anything from the book, but my book loving rambles may give more away than a traditional review. Here we go! Ramble time!

Review:

I would say overall this book felt a little weird for me. I didn’t absolutely love it but I also didn’t particularly dislike it. It fell in a very ‘meh’ place for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have good things to say about it, they are just slightly confusing things.

The plot was actually one of the things I liked the most about it. Even though it was a crazy unrealistic plot, it helped capture the absolute lunacy of being a member of fandom culture perfectly. Sometimes being a fan is a simple life of surfing Tumblr and liking posts but sometimes the craziest things happen and change your life forever. In this case the reader is swept up in this craziness with Claire and the unrealistic aspect of it all made it feel more realistic as counterintuitive as that sounds. That is what the fandom experience can feel like at times, everything makes so little sense it actually circles back around to making sense, but enough about that...time for some character rambles.

Now we have two perspectives explored in this book. That of Claire, the fangirl, and Forest, the actor who has never had to deal with fangirls before. Let’s start with Claire. I am of two minds on her. Part of me really doesn’t like her, mostly because she is a person that in real life I probably wouldn’t spend time around and, as I’ve stated in a previous review, I have a hard time separating myself from characters and remembering that they are only teenagers. Multiple times I actually physically facepalmed, while reading a hardback book! That isn’t easy to do, but I did it, because she was doing things that just seemed so illogical from my perspective. But I am an adult, so of course I have a completely different perspective than a teen who is away from home and feeling a little out of control for a plethora of reasons. Now the other part of me really liked her, strangely enough for those exact same reasons, she was so real that I went full ‘Mom’ mode and wanted to sit her down and have a talk about what she was going through before she did something she was going to regret. Even if I found the character to be unlikeable the fact I was still on her side and wanted to help her really shows the depth that was written into her.

Now moving on to Forest. Oh, Forest. He was a character that I was very intrigued by at first because his was a perspective I, as a fangirl myself, had never seen in a book before, but damn if he didn’t make it so hard to like him. Some of the things he said and did made me want to throttle him. I could excuse some of the stuff Clarie did because of her age and the craziness of everything going on around her, but Forest is an adult and should know better. He would improve and his actions would start to win me over, but then he would overreact to something and make me want to put on my throttlin’ gloves again. I felt like that Tyra Banks ‘I was rooting for you!’ reaction gif while I was reading this multiple times. Again, though, there were parts that I was glad Forest called Claire out on her actions when it was called for, but overall they both needed an intervention to have them sit down and just chill for five seconds.

I actually genuinely liked a majority of the side characters in this as well. I actually have less of the weird mental confusion when it comes to the side characters. Rico was cute and great around the fans. Jamie was a total asshat but he was written to be that way to foil Claire in her mission to make ‘Smokeheart’ cannon. One of my favorite scenes in the whole book was actually between Claire and the social media consultant, whose name I totally remember and am just choosing not to put in because I think that’ll be all avant garde...okay fine I forgot her name and I am not digging the book out to find it. Anyway...I can’t really go into detail about the scene because, you know, spoilers but it was so well done in the context of the story.

Now for the last big character I want to speak on, the love interest, Tess. Now I really liked Tess and even understood how she wanted to keep her nerdy hobbies a secret from her small town friends. I was lucky that I grew up in a family and a circle of friends that let me embrace my passions no matter how off-the-wall they may seem to others. Tess obviously didn’t have that kind of support but she was still so passionate just privately. I will say though, ironically given the title of the book, I don’t ship it. Tess and Claire definitely share an instant attraction and the chemistry is there but they have so much growing to do before they are anywhere close to having an actual healthy functional relationship. Maybe if we saw more of them it would feel more compelling but it just wasn’t for me.

So my final thoughts on this book are just...a little discombobulated. Part of me was really happy to read a book that portrayed a part of my life that is so hard to put into words at times. I have never been a rabid fangirl, but after Lexa’s death I had to try and explain my utter devastation to people who just didn’t understand why a fictional character mattered to me so much. This book captures at least a layer of the fandom experience in a way that I’ve never seen before. The problem I have in the end though is how problematic everything that happens was, and then the ending just felt so sudden. We didn’t see any of the characters address their issues on the page. I hope this review made some coherent sense, because this book still doesn’t really make sense even in my brain, but I need to wrap this up now.

Queer Wrap-up: Okay, so, for our rep we have a questioning main character who definitely has some queer tendencies, but overall her realizing her feelings took such a back seat to her mission to make a fictional ship cannon on a show that was already filmed it took away from the rep as a whole. It just felt like the focus was so split that the actual rep gets lost in the pages. There is no argument by the end of the book that Claire is queer, which earns the three unicorns on that alone, but some of the tropes that played parts in the book were just so cringey that I couldn’t rationalize giving it more than that. Even with a couple side characters who were revealed to also be queer they weren’t enough to cover for the less stellar parts of this book.

Links:

Britta Lundin’s Website

TheStorygraph

Amazon

Okay, so if you couldn’t tell by that train wreck of a review this book just confused me. It kept me just interested enough to pick it back up after I’d put it down, but also wasn’t that bad. It lives in a weird oxymoronic vortex in my brain that honestly gives me a headache if I focus on it too much. There were aspects of this book that I did genuinely like but it all gets swirled together with the parts that made me put it down and need to take a break. If any of you want to discuss those more spoiler-filled aspects please send an ask and I’ll welcome you into the cyclical nature of whatever this book is doing in my brain. And as always if you want to read this but don’t want to spend the money without knowing for sure you are going to like it, go to your local library. You’d be surprised what they have on their shelves just waiting to be discovered. Trust me, I’m a lesbrarian.

[pynkhues]

Hey Sophie! I’m just starting it out on ao3 and I still don’t know how to exactly tag my fics. Do you have any tips? Don’t feel obliged to answer this.

Hey! How exciting to hear you’re jumping onto ao3 to post your fics! I can’t wait to check them out. :-) 

And of course! That’s a great question. I know tagging fic was something that I struggled to get my head around when I first started posting stories, so this has been a great opportunity to condense what I’ve learned over my many years in fandom, haha. Hopefully some of it’s useful for you, and, as always, please remember this is just my own opinion. 

The Essentials

I think that there are only two types of essential tags you need for your fics, and I classify these as ‘admin tags’ and ‘content warning tags’. 

Admin Tags are essentially just filing to ensure your story ends up in the right place, and they’re tags you should use both on ao3, and here on tumblr too when you share it. Generally speaking, I think of these as: 

Fandom

Characters

Relationships

So pretty basic, haha. A lot of people often only tag main characters and the central romantic ship, but I generally like to encourage people to tag all characters and all relationships, both romantic and platonic. Especially as the Good Girls fandom has gotten bigger and the there are so many more fics out there, I think this has become more essential. Like, I want to know if there’s background Ruby x Stan, y’know? Or if there’s Mick and Rio friendship! Knowing what other relationships your story’s going to touch on often really helps readers to prioritise what they read when they’re time poor, and makes it easier to search for again if say, I forget to bookmark (classic Sophie move, haha), and want to read it again (and bookmark it this time). 

Content Warnings on the other hand are pretty different and might not even be applicable to your story, but they’re always important to think about before you post. A content warning is basically just a flag for anything that could trigger a traumatic memory or response in the person reading it. These are not just courteous to add, but I also think, as someone who’s written a lot of health and safety documentation in her day job, an act of public safety. There are a lot of content warnings to tag for, but the big ones in fic are typically: 

Dubious consent / non consent (commonly shortened to DubCon and NonCon)

Major Character Death; and

Self Harm and Suicide

There are a lot more though to think about, and The University of Michigan actually has a great resource on this for inclusive teaching and has a list of really comprehensive things to warn for that I find is a great reference point for fic tagging too. 

As for the essentials, I’d say that’s it basically! If you wanted to, you could leave it at that, but adding more tags which help to summarise your story could really help you widen your story’s reach and appeal to more readers! So let’s take a look at that too: 

Optional Tags that Could Widen Your Reach

Settings and Context! I find these are great ones for really flagging what your story’s going to be. Is it one set in canon? If so, tag it as Canon Compliant! Is it canon until, say, 2.11, like my fic ‘verse The Center and Circumference is? Then tag it as Canon Divergent. Does it happen before the series starts? Tag it as Pre-Canon! These particular settings tags can be seen as: 

Pre-Canon

Canon Compliant

Post-Canon

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent

Alternate Universe

With canon fics, you can even get more specific and tag the episode itself, which is particularly handy! I’d say if what you’ve written is a missing scene fic from a specific episode too, it’s a really good idea. :-)

Once you’ve done that, then think a little deeper about that setting and context! If it’s a highschool au, tag it as a Highschool AU, or a fisherman au, tag it as a Fisherman AU, etc. etc. Setting tags aren’t just for AUs though either – they’re also great for tagging things like:

Established Relationship

Domestic Fluff

Slow Burn

Getting Together

Break Up

Basically, I’d suggest thinking of your setting and context tags as what you’re dropping your reader into. Where are they, when are they, and what are they? This is going to be particularly useful for people who, say, are just in the mood for fic where Beth and Rio are already together, or are wanting fics with Beth, Ruby and Annie growing up. 

It’s a sort of grounding, I think, that’s really useful! And once you’ve tagged that grounding, you can have a bit more fun with tagging for tropes and kinks!

Tropes are basically story conventions, devices and themes that are utilised in the story that you’re telling. They range from broad genres (angst!) to really specific story elements (there was only one bed!) Some tropes are heavily popularised, others less so, but tagging for them is a delightful way to ensure that your story lands in front of the eyeballs of the readers who love that trope. Some more tropes include: 

Hurt/Comfort

Pining

Huddling for warmth

Sick fic

Jealousy

Fake dating

There are a lot more, and fanlore has a pretty handy summary of a lot of them here if you’re unsure, but feel free to create your own too ;-). 

Kinks! Tag your kinks! Particularly if they’re specific, because this fandom loves some specific kinks, hahaha, like: 

Desk sex

Car sex

Hate sex

Make up sex

Oral sex

Annnd, you get the idea. Again, super handy for connecting to interested readers. 

Other tags

Otherwise, you can basically tag whichever way you want. The above are just suggestions, but ones I generally find useful to think about. I know other people like to tag tumblr prompts for instance, or if a fic is unbeta’d, or if it’s freeform, and I think that’s great. 

The only thing I generally urge away from is using train-of-thought tags on ao3 in the way we might use train-of-thought tags on tumblr. Ao3′s tag functionality after all is about categorisation, sharing, and helping people find stories that appeal to them, and train-of-thought tags generally speaking don’t do that. On top of that, unpaid volunteers go through those tags on ao3 to try and keep them organised and functional as a search tool, and I think making their lives easier by tagging specifically is a nice thing to do.

That said, feel empowered to create tags that might be a good new subcategory for the fandom (I just created a ‘Mick and Rio backstory’ tag for my latest fic that I hope people might use because I would like to read fics not written by me of this ilk, haha)

So yes! Those are my tips! I hope they’re useful, anon! I can’t wait to read your stories when they pop up! :-)

[twdmusicboxmystery]

6 Extra Episodes in S10. This May Be What We’ve Been Waiting For!

Yeah, you might say I have a “few” thoughts on the extra 6 episodes, lol. I think this is fantastic. I really think this is what we’ve been looking for for 5 years.

Of course, that said, I must caveat this with the fact that this is just speculation and no one knows for certain. But man, is this exciting!

When I heard for myself Angela announce the 6 new episodes for S10, the question I kept coming back to is…why? Why would they do that? Even putting Beth aside, never in 10 seasons have they ever extended a season at all, and 6 is a lost of episodes. (I can’t help but run through every episode 6 of every season and how many Beth clues we’ve found in all of them.)

But more to the point, why make them part of season 10? Why not finish them and make them s11 so they can show how awesome TWD is and that it hardly missed a beat. You know, on to season 11!!!!! But they’re smashing them into s10. Why? That’s a REALLY big deal.

So let’s state some things we know MUST be true about these six episodes:

1. Obviously, they’re special. For some reason.

2. They MUST have been previously filmed. They haven’t filmed anything since November and with CoVid, no way they could have. And yes, you could argue that they were filming secretly, away from cameras, as we often say that about Beth. But even so, they wouldn’t have had enough time before CoVid hit to film six full episodes. So these must have been filmed sometime before that. And then there’s those missing scenes we’ve PROVEN were filmed and never aired. Just seems like too much of a coincidence that this wouldn’t be that.

3. It must be something related to what happens in the finale. Maybe that seems obvious, but the reason I say that is because, in terms of Gimple’s we’re-working-on-seeing-what-happened-to-characters-early-in-the-apocalypse thing, I think there’s a few possibilities for what he could be talking about there. One of them, obviously, is Beth. But they’ve also long-hinted at an Abraham/Eugene early apocalypse spin off. So, it’s POSSIBLE he could be talking about that or some other storyline they have in mind for a future spin off. Now, I have more reasons for why I don’t think that’s the case, which I’ll get to in a minute, but this is what I mean about these 6 episodes needing to be tied to the finale. Putting in an Abraham—or anyone else’s flashback story line, for that matter—would make no sense here. It would be really jarring for the viewers because there’s been no hint of anything like in the show.

And of course a non TD-er would probably argue that there’s been no hint of Beth either, but we all know better, don’t we? There’s the Connie stuff (that convo between Daryl and Carol was the first on-screen mention of Daryl’s love life since…what? S3? When Carol asked him jokingly if he wanted to screw around? I mean, of course the fans were talking about it with Beth, but none of the on-screen characters were. And of course there’s the symbolism, dog stuff, Emily’s music being in it, and all other social media hints and attention she’s gotten. It just makes sense that if the last 5 minutes Nicotero keeps hinting at is her, then it would naturally follow that we’d then see her backstory.

And, I gotta say, the six episodes is perfect. This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for. We’ve all gone so back and forth about how they’d do this. We knew her backstory would take more than a single bottle episode. Or even two. And having a full 6 or 8 episodes for it deviates too much for too long from the main story and the other characters. So we always figured it might be a spin off or “special event” or something. This works perfectly for that mold, and may explain why they’re just “extending” S10.

But I’ll say more on that in a minute. Let me get back to Gimple’s comment.

Three things really stuck out to me about what he said, all of which make me think his comment was about Beth, rather than some other spinoff.

1) He made a point to say it was something that happened early in the apocalypse, not pre-apocalypse. And while that would work for an Abe/Eugene spinoff as well, it just jumped out at me that he wanted to be very clear about that.

2) He said what they’re working on that he’s referring to isn’t an entire series. That specifically suggests that a) it’s probably these 6 episodes he’s referring to, because rather than making them their own series (like TWB) they’re just mashing them into the main series. And b) what I said above about any other character spinoff: it would make way more sense and be way less jarring to have it be its own spin-off event because it just wouldn’t fit into the main series.

3) He suggested it’s what they’re actively working on right NOW. So, let me be the devil’s advocate here. That could possibly mean two things. Right now they can either do remote stuff to work on what they’ve already filmed or they can plan for stuff they’ll be filming when they get the okay to do so.

Let’s say I’m wrong and what Gimple said refers to some other spin off. Well, you could actually argue it either way. Maybe (again, we’ll use the Abe/Eugene thing as a placeholder, though it could feasibly be anything) they already filmed another spin off, secretly, and it’s just that no one knows about it. They could, technically, have done that at any time since MC left in S6, right? So Gimple could be working on that. Or, if they haven’t done any other filming, he could just be planning for the next thing beyond S11, right?

But that just doesn’t seem particularly realistic to me. Given that they’re trying to get stuff out for the fans, and the way CoVid has thrown a wrench in everything, I think all other projects would be backburned and they’d just be pushing as hard as possible to get the rest of S10 and S11 out to us. That’s what they have to be working on now to fill the gap of CoVid and make sure the fans don’t riot. That’s pretty much what Angela said and Gimple, Nicotero and others all agreed.

So of course, it’s not proof or anything, but it just seems obvious to me that what Gimple meant is what’s in these 6 episodes and nothing except it being about Beth makes sense. Nothing else would fit into the story at all right now.

Okay, I’m going to give a few thoughts about the suspicious pushing back of the finale and then I’ll stop.

In many ways, them pushing back the finale makes MORE sense to me in light of these new episodes than it did before. You both know I’ve always thought it was hokey because, after getting the filming done, everything else, by definition is done by computer and therefore can be done remotely.

So here’s what I think happened. Remember that even after CoVid hit, they still got several episodes aired, and didn’t tell us until—I don’t remember exactly when; episode 14 maybe?—that they wouldn’t be airing the finale because it wasn’t finished. I still think that was a lie. I think it wasn’t so much that they didn’t get the finale finished, but that they looked at what was happening (CoVid) and understood that everything would be shut down for an extended period of time and there would be a gap. That they wouldn’t get S11 filmed until the new year. But overall, S11 isn’t even really the point. Like I said, hearing about these 6 episodes has brought me some clarity.

So this may explain both why they held back the finale and why they’re mashing these episodes into S10, rather than making them their own thing. Now, maybe they were always going to do that. I obviously couldn’t speak to it either way. But I think the time frame is the thing here. Understand, I’m operating under the assumption that these 6 episodes will be Beth’s backstory, the missing 17 days, the white church, all of it. So, assuming that’s true…

If they always knew they were going to air these episodes soon after 10x16, they probably want them aired very close to (soon after) the reveal of Beth being alive. Think of it this way. When her being alive is revealed, there will a collective, fandom gasp. And then tptb will hype everyone watching the next episodes so we can find out how and why this is the case. But if they’d aired the finale back in February, it would have been 9 months before got those answers, and they would have lost the hype of the initial shock. Not to mention, while obviously the break would have built up plenty of hype for Daryl and Beth, it also would have allowed the haters to rail for months and months about how unrealistic this is, which might have infected others in the fandom in a negative way. I think Gimple and Kang are smart. They know their fandom very well, and are doing everything they can to guard against that sort of thing.

So, I think it’s possible that they were going to present these six episodes in a different way originally, like a spin off or special event (maybe, maybe not; I could see it either way) but they decided to make it an extended part of season 10, specifically because we won’t have s11 for a while and they want to push people through these episodes as quickly as possible after the finale.

I also think it’s terribly interesting from a psychological standpoint that they plan to start airing these things in October. Exactly when we SHOULD have gotten S11. Like I said, the writers are just smart that way. All we’ll actually be missing time-wise this year is the finale. And yes, other things like Fear and TWB were suppose to air in the interim. But in terms of the main series, which blows all the others out of the water viewership-wise, we’ll be sticking to the same schedule of getting more TWD in October, exactly when we should. I’m sure that’s purposeful. And by the time they air everything they’ve already filmed (S10, Fear, TWB), they’ll probably be ready to start airing S11 by then. Hopefully.

Okay, sorry. I said I’d stop, but two more minor things I want to mention. When Nicotero mentioned the last 5 minutes thing again, he said it would take everyone in a “whole new direction.” That gave me a lot of hope. Yes, I know hyperbole and exaggeration are still a thing, but I think we get it less from Nicotero than from Gimple, and I just don’t feel like he’d call it a “whole new direction” if he was just referring to Father Gabriel’s death or something. So once again, I think that “whole new direction” will be something completely unlooked for that will push us into those 6 episodes. That gave me some hope.

And finally, on the topic of FG’s death, I really think that could be a thing. Did you notice Angela’s giggle? I think it was right at the end when they were asking her what to expect from the finale and she just did a rundown of how all the characters were doing important things in important places (Negan has some exciting scenes, Carol has a redemption arc, Daryl’s leadership is important, etc.). And when she mentioned FG, she did this weird smile/giggle thing. She didn’t do that mentioning any of the other characters. It was like she got nervous and was trying to cover something. Just a little too shifty-eyed and giggly for me. So I kinda think we might be right about him dying in the finale.

But of course that remains to be seen. Thoughts?