#gosh that fic. when will it return from the war.

[maimingaffairs]

hiiii! i just had an idea in mind while i was listening to daylight by taylor swift. haha! can i request a fic that is based on daylight? wherein aleksander plans on expanding the fold but his whole plan changed when he met the reader who happened to have expressed her enthusiasm in tearing the fold down to him; like how she wants to finally be able to live somwhere safe with her lover. and when Aleksander thought of her words, he somehow imagined himself together with the reader. basically, just him being madly in love with the reader that he's willing to change every evil plan of his for her. and can they meet while the whole seducing alina thing is going on? i know it's kinda of unclear, you can change some parts if you're willing to write it! anyway, good day!

hi oh my gosh it’s been a minute. i’m so sorry for being so inactive!!! i’m trying to be better about writing! i hope this is what you were looking for my sweet anon. if not… please let me know and i’ll be happy to rewrite it. i love u all so bad. i’m almost to 300 followers and that’s not really a huge milestone in the grand scheme of things but it makes me so happy and i appreciate every single one of you angels more than u will ever know. kisses and hugs <3

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none! mostly soft

All of You, All of Me, Intertwined (aleksander morozova x princess!reader)

“That’s the world I’d like to live in.” You finished, smiling over at the Darkling. 

He stared at you, fighting the urge to let his mouth fall open in the slightest. He’d just listened to you tell him in detail for nearly fifteen minutes about how you wanted Ravka to be safer. Free of the Fold, free of the war. Free of hatred and evil. It wasn’t unbelievable to him that you’d want this, saints bless your gentle soul. 

No, what became unbelievable to him is that he was actually considering your point of view. 

“You look taken aback, was it something I said?” You asked and eyed the man in front of you suspiciously. 

He found his voice finally and shook his head at you, “No. I just think that what you said was lovely, Princess.” He stated, more honestly than he’d like to have admitted. 

You smiled contently at him and sipped your tea before turning to look out the window, a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you. 

You were the Princess of Ravka, and while Aleksander had known you practically all your life, he’d never really spoken to you until the day he had returned to Os Alta with Alina. It had nearly been two months since then, and every single day, he fell a little bit more in love with you. You came around often. At first it was for Alina, then it became less for her and more for Aleksander, and then it became just for him. Your walks and chats with Alina Starkov became teas and deep conversations with Aleksander. 

Looking at you now made his heart ache deliciously. The way the sun illuminated your profile and made it look as though you were emanating your own light, like his very own little star. Or his sun. Alina may have been the Sun Summoner, but she was not you. You were a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine, golden, like daylight. 

You cleared your throat after some time had passed and you turned your head towards Aleksander, “Do you think it’s possible? With the Sun Summoner here?” You asked him with hopefulness in your bright eyes. 

Aleksander clumsily nodded along to your question, “My Princess, you will get your happy ending. One way or another, I’ll ensure that.” He found his promise to be much more truthful than he’d expected it to be, and he was unsure of how to feel about it.

You, however, looked as content as you could have ever been. There was an excitement sparkling behind your eyes that made him believe that he would earnestly do whatever you asked of him. He probably would. 

He rose from the table before you and he held his hand out for you to take, giving you a gentle smile. 

“Let me escort you back to the Palace, yes? You have your lessons.” He offered. 

“I don’t wish to go to them today.” You sighed and gently took his much larger hand. He pulled you to your feet gently and then he chuckled. 

“Your parents will have my head if I keep you through another.” He stated. 

You simply sighed and then nodded towards the doors, “Lead the way, Darkling.” You teased. 

You seemed to have missed the little smile that danced upon said Darkling’s lips. 

-

Aleksander stood with his hands down against his war table, his teeth grinding down against each other as he clenched his jaw impossibly tight. 

He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t want to halt every single one of his hundred year old plans for something so silly as a little Princess’s wishes. But alas, here he was, considering just that. The conflict between him and his darker half raged on in his mind and he let out a grunt. Anger flared his nostrils and curled his hands into fists, and he was about to send everything flying off of his war table, until he heard his door open. 

Your tired little voice pulled his attention elsewhere and he turned towards you, jaw still tightly clenched. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, sir. I just… found myself awake, craving your company.” You explained shyly, looking anywhere but his face. 

His face, seconds ago twisted with anger, softened dramatically with your words and he brushed his hand through his hair slowly, letting his jaw relax. 

“You should be asleep in your bed in the Grand Palace, Princess. Your parents will boil over if they catch you here.” He said in a gravelly tone. 

You didn’t seem to care about what he had to say, and instead walked forward towards him, “You seem distressed.” You noted, arriving at his side. 

You grasped his arm as gently as you could with your hands and you pulled him a bit closer to your side. 

Your touch seemed to bring him some form of comfort, you thought, because when you pulled him closer, his muscles relaxed and he tipped his head downwards to look into your eyes. 

“War does that to men.” He answered vaguely. No need to mention that the war in question was between him and himself. 

“Well, I have full faith that you’ll put a stop to this incessant conflict.” You said sweetly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to the side of his arm. 

He gaped at you as you pulled away from him and leaned back against the table. Aleksander had his suspicions about you perhaps returning his affections, but never once had you been so brazen on how you displayed it. Though you’d kissed him over his thick kefta, he felt as if something warm was searing through his clothes and heating his skin like sunlight would. 

You didn’t seem to mind his stare, much less his visibly racing mind. 

After a moment of his pleasant bewilderment, he cleared his throat and then stepped closer to you, “You have too much faith in me, Your Grace.”

“You’re wrong.” 

“There is only so much I can do about our current state.” He replied and leaned closer to you, his hand rising to find itself holding the side of your face. 

“Yet I have full faith in you bringing peace to this country.” You whispered and then smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek into his cold palm. 

He didn’t say anything further, he only stared down into your eyes. He didn’t even know what he could say to you. He wanted to tell you of his plans with The Fold, how he meant to expand it. And then he wanted to tell you how he wanted to dismantle it for you. 

How he would dismantle it for you, he decided. But it’s not like he could admit to all the wicked things he’d planned to do before you began to infect his every thought. He couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to you at that very moment. 

So he kissed you instead.

-

As you slept next to Aleksander that night, he stared up at the ceiling. You laid contently with your head against his shoulder, both of your arms wrapped around one of his. Eventually, he grew bored of trying to make out patterns on the ceiling and he turned his attention to you. 

Even in sleep, you were just as lively and bright as you were during the day. He wrapped both of his arms around your body and pulled you flush against this side. 

You were so peaceful, so calm. His heart seemed to jump from its place in his chest and he leaned down to press a little kiss to your hairline. 

The war, he could not guarantee would stop. Men will be men. They will fight and they will burn. But The Fold? He could guarantee that it would fall, he decided, staring down at your sleeping form. 

He’d tear it down with ferocity, with determination. He’d give you the family you wanted. He’d be the lover you deserved, in a country safe and free of such vulgar darkness. He’d spend every waking moment fighting off every single thing that came and worked to undo the world he’d swear to build for you. 

Because you were golden. 

Like daylight. 

[xecutivecucumber]

Executive Cucumber's Thoughts on the Bad Batch Season 3, Episode 5, The Return!

(And I'm doing this instead of sleeping)

Spoilers after the break

Notes may not be in order

At first I was a little disappointed that we didn't start immediately after the end of the last episode, but I think I prefer it. We can have the reunion any way we want now. It's possible that the writers thought that they would all just awkwardly and quietly get on the Marauder and fly off and they knew we would be disappointed by that. So they left it to us to imagine what happened next. I think that's also why they didn't show Crosshair finding out about Tech. For them, Crosshair might just stay silent, or disassociate or something and we wouldn't be satisfied. But now we get to imagine all kinds of angst for when that happened.

Oh, the contrast between Omega waking up on Pabu and on Tantiss. SHE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH.

Aww AZ really loves Omega.

Okay, but how did Crosshair accept the fruit? Did he say thank you? I NEED TO SEE CROSSHAIR BE AWKWARD AROUND NORMAL PEOPLE.

I honestly think Crosshair wants to train Omega as his replacement if he can't get over his hands.

Wrecker and Hunter just blatantly watching them is amazing.

MOM'S HOME

Crosshair's sass is everything to me in this episode.

I honestly think that Echo is the only one who really talks about Tech out loud because he's the only one of them who has experienced loss before. He knows how to handle it. The others...do not.

STOP MAKING CROSSHAIR GO TO COLD PLACES, ESPECIALLY WHEN THAT COLD PLACE TRAUMATIZED HIM

'Little brother' oh my gosh they are my everything.

I expected Crosshair to love Omega, but he ADORES her and I am here for it. I'm also here for the fury for when she is inevitably captured again.

Hunter, you are a butt. I still love you.

HIS ARMOR. YES. YES. YES.

'It still fits' it might not have because he was so skinny and that is devastating.

Oh my gosh Hunter and Crosshair's arguing is everything I could have wanted.

'Kill each other later' Echo I love you.

I love that Batcher is just a member of the Batch now. Also, Hunter, get your senses in order the dog is doing your job.

THE HELMETS. AAAAAAAAAGH.

Hunter: sees Crosshair tenderly arranging helmets

Also Hunter: this is unreasonably suspicious

TOOTHPICKS YES

HIS TREMBLING HAAAANDS

Ugh I love Crosshair and Hunter's fight so much. Crosshair isn't just pushing Hunter's buttons, he's legitimately angry that Hunter let Omega get captured and go through what she did. And then there's the beautiful subtext of 'you let Tech die.'

Crosshair and Batcher are best duo.

THE SNOW IS SO GORGEOUS

CROSSHAIR SOUNDS SO MUCH LIKE TECH HE EVEN SAYS 'OMEGA' THE SAME WAY.

This is their get-along-worm.

Wrecker hugging Crosshair and Hunter may be one of my favorite things ever.

'There's no blood.' I am requesting all fic writers to provide me with a plethora of fics featuring Hunter and Crosshair fighting to bloodshed, ranging from angst to the stupidest argument ever.

CROSSHAIR YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON YOU OPENED UP.

Okay after Hunter said he did things he regretted too I'm now convinced that he has committed so many war crimes in trying to find Omega. Wrecker has nightmares about it.

I can't remember where, but Crosshair's theme was played in the major key!!! LET HIM BE HAPPY

Crosshair is such a joy to watch this episode. This is who he is and it really contrasts with chipped Crosshair.

I miss Tech so much. I want to see him in this dynamic. I also want to see Crosshair and Phee's dynamic.

I mean this in the most complimentary way possible: this episode felt like a fanfiction. The focus on their interactions and emotions feels like something we'd get from a fic rather than Canon. And I love every moment of it.

I adore seasons 1 and 2, but there were definitely episodes I preferred over another. This season has been 10/10 for me so far. And once more I have to wait a FREAKING week for more.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Fic Snippet: A Final Chat (Traintober Day 28)

For "Day 28: Out of Service" I'd like to offer a scene that teeeechnically I've already published in Autumn Chapter 2.

It got rather overshadowed by the Sudrian Guest Star in Chapter 1 and the Engine Religion Talk in Chapter 3, but this is my personal favorite scene. I think it can be read as a stand-alone even if you are not up to speed with the Coppernob series.

After the day's work is over and a bunch of chatty engines have left, we segue into the quiet reveal.

Barrow Central, October 1919

The passenger tank 70 wasn't on the train, though. No one commented on this. He remained on track one, where Poppet usually lingered by the greenhouse for a final chat. But tonight she made herself scarce.

As shadows began to creep into all the nooks of Barrow Central, 70 and Coppernob watched the cars and the people pass outside the station. There was a definite uptick of activity. People were returning from Sunday dinners with their family... readying themselves for the start of a busy new week.

"Will you have another turn to Coniston in the morning," asked Coppernob quietly, after a while of this street-watching, "or are you to report straight to the Works?"

70 made the indistinct sound that serves engines well for a shrug. "Not to the Works. The big sheds, with the others. Seems they'll have me wait here, till I'm sent for..." Coppernob didn't fill the silence, and at length 70 continued, voice steady and hollow. "It would be wasteful to send me back home. There's not any work for us now, with the summer over, and the Atlantic Tanks settled on the branch lines."

Coppernob still looked ahead. These talks always went better, when you were looking elsewhere…

"You had a good summer," he observed, dispassionate.

"Yes," said 70. His tone was just the same. "I'm glad that our lot had one last summer season, with all that terrible business over."

"Was it the same, as before?"

70 thought it over.

"Not quite, no. I don't think the world will ever be the same. It's... it's as if an innocence was lost, inn'it? Our visitors were happy, at our beautiful lakes... but it was in a different way." He gave a hollow little chortle. "My brother 1 said, when he was sent for, that he was well pleased to give 'all this rubbish' a miss!"

"Hmm."

"Mmm," 70 agreed.

The headlights of a passing car briefly threw 70 into full illumination. A ship bellowed in the distance.

"I don't agree, though." There was the slightest wobble to 70's voice, though he pressed on. An engine till the end. "If there had to be a war, I'm proud to have done my bit, and seen things through to the other side of it. Nobby..."

Coppernob waited.

Here it was. 

"I want to see more, yet." 70's voice was an aching whisper.

"I know."

Coppernob's flat bluntness steadied the younger engine, who sighed with something that at least resembled a self-deprecating laugh. "I don’t mind telling you, Nobby. I’m scared. Not of what's after this week, exactly, but the week itself. I've all sorts of queer feelings jostling around in my boiler... perhaps it will be easier, when I'm sitting cold for a spell. Lady! I — I hope I don't let my lot down."

"1 and 2 went bravely," said Coppernob, without discernible emotion. An observer. A chronicler. "So did your second series."

"I mustn't be the one to shame us," agreed 70.

"You won't," said Coppernob. Still speaking with a disinterested surety, though verging into reminiscence. "You were never one to cause some embarrassing scene. 'Course, you had some mischievous days... I expect during your big rebuild Mr Mason took away all the marks Queen Mab left on you and 73?"

70 finally grinned. Coppernob did look upon him now. 70 looked very young again, a light in his eyes, and this was how Coppernob wished to remember him. "She put a dent in 73's cab, somehow? If the light's just right you can still see it. Gosh! How the old dame did terrorize us for that lark."

"You two were fortunate," said Coppernob, with a sort of mocking severity, "that my brother and I were away at the time, and that you were left to her tender mercies. We were quite disgusted when word reached us."

"Nay," grinned 70. "You and old Crozzer would have bashed us something fiercer, but the sentence would have been shorter. All that summer long, Her Maj made us pay — and pay — and pay." His eyes glinted, and he spoke with an abrupt new mournfulness. "She must be gone now, too."

"Yes," agreed Coppernob, again dispassionate. "'Ninety-five, I've heard. It was her time... she gave fifteen more years of good service to that railway we sold her on to. They even named her. She would have been pleased, to be named properly again."

"Oh, but her new name didn't suit her any better than her number here did. She was always Queen Mab. But how on earth was it, anyhow, that the both of you were away, that summer? Ever since I arrived, one or the other of you was always in residence at the docks."

"Hmm. I was often sent to Whitehaven as tunnel pilot. And Crozzer was banking at Lindal, I believe?"

"Don't be daft. We had the 'Neddies' by then."

Coppernob went on his dignity. Even if one of the young engines was to be cut up at the end of the week, there was no need to call him daft. "A spare engine was needed at Moor Row, with two of theirs in overhaul. The work was considered too heavy for us, so they sent up a Neddie instead, and number Four went to Lindal."

70 looked shrewd. "Oho — too heavy for you? And you took that lying down, did you?"

Coppernob frowned in what certainly felt an austere, saturnine, intimidating sort of way. "I do not know what you are implying."

"I knew you well before you were a glasshouse engine, Nobby! Moor Row's not a far hop from Whitehaven. How long did it take you to skive off over there and try to show 'em up?"

"I did not abandon my post," said Coppernob, with dignity, "until number 100 returned from the workshop."

"'Course."

"It may then be true," Coppernob conceded, "that, after two days working Moor Row, I was compelled to admit that perhaps they'd had a point."

It got 70 to laugh, and so it was worth it. "Two entire days!"

"I'll hear a little less of that from you , my good engine. It turned out those heavy loads on that twisty, hilly, godforsaken little branch were no joke. I am not sure you should have lasted longer."

70 gave a last chuckle. Then, after a few moments' pause, melancholy re-settled over them both. The sun was fully set, now, and the sky outside the circle of station light inky black.

"One Hundred," mused 70. "Old Keekle. Fully sixty years, she had. And I've not seen fifty."

"She had the security of mastering a job few other engines could hack," said Coppernob... knowing where the other engine was going with this. "Sixty years is very rare." 

"But fifty isn't."

"Not on our railway, at least."

"Not on our railway. It was what nearly everyone had. Until Mr Pettigrew..."

"There's no point in thinking this way. You know this."

"Perhaps I do know. But I can't help how I feel. Mr Mason would have kept me on the rails two or three more years. And that's not so much in the scheme of things, I know; I'm sure it's childish of me to make complaint of such a small thing. And I could maybe keep my mouth shut, if it were only that. But, then... it's... I'm not quite worn out yet, not quite. I can sense the use that's left in me. It makes an engine itchy and anxious and... it feels just as though I've left behind work that still needs doing. I know it’s not my fault, and yet I feel a guilty conscience. Like I've cheated our owners."

"Then you go and you slam that feeling deep into a lost mineshaft where it belongs," said Coppernob sternly. "They. cheated. themselves."

He didn't raise his voice, but those final three words were old Coppernob at his fiercest and bitterest.

And at those words 70 was able to let it go. The guilt, at least, was not his load to carry.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

I See You : Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Warnings and Information: Going with a 13+ rating just on account of language in the form of Star Wars and real-world swearing, just to be cautious. Self-indulgent modern AU fic, but you can read it too. This is practice for Crosshair's character as well as something mildly therapeutic. I'm… fine, but not fabulous, y'know? Job hunting is not exactly fun, so I'm just writing out my frustrations. How many Clone cameos can I fit in here? We'll find out together. They're not dead, what are you talking about? Empire gets compared to any one of those multimillion-dollar companies that treat you like shit no matter how good of a worker you are with Palp as the soul-sucking CEO in modernized terms. Rare fic without minor instances of Mando'a, but plenty of my stylistic and narrative use of italics. Minor proofreading. 

Word-count: 4,237

The phone rings. You put it up to your ear so fast you nearly drop your cell in your haste to answer, not even looking at the screen. You should've. It would have saved you time, the realization that these people were not reaching out to get back to you about your job application. You hang up halfway into the pitch about repairing damaged products you don't even own. 

The lid slams to the washing machine."Oh, fuck me!" you yell, groaning loudly.

You're of two minds; be consumed with your frustrations and take it out on the washing machine, or just clean the paint stains out with your tears. You're sure that'll work just as well as the detergent in order to get out that large smear of phthalo blue. Except, it won't, and the sooner you get this load started, the less time the paint has to set and stain. The lid is lifted.

Footfall softer than falling snow, Crosshair makes his way in from some other part of the shared house, his expression passive as he observes you dunking fistfuls of dirty clothing into the wash-drum. "Is that an invitation or a request?" He at least waited to make his remark until he was certain you noticed him and gave him a trademark "what the kriff do you want?" sort of look. 

Knuckles pale as you grip the lip of the machine with one hand. "I'm not in the mood for your-" 

"No; I know you're not." Crosshair interrupts you. "But I came to see if you hurt yourself, mostly." 

"I'm fine." you snarl, slam-dunking the last of the clothing from the hamper anchored against your hip. "I slammed the lid." A neat brow buckles just a fraction, all the response you get as you push your way past him, returning to the small office that served as your art studio in this house. You're really not in the mood. You were a whirlwind of emotion, most of it negative. 

You can feel his eyes from the doorway, trained on the back of your neck as you work. Gosh you made such a mess, you shouldn't have used so much paint thinner. "Go away, Cross. I need to clean up my easel and see if I can't salvage this portrait of…" You stop, breath hitching when you hear Crosshair clear his throat softly. He's directly behind you now, his voice taking on a slightly serpentine quality in its softness.

"Your clean shirt's on backwards, doll." 

You shake your head, stubbornly refusing to believe him. "Nice try. Not while my hands are dirty. Tell me again once I get this mess cleaned up." 

Wordlessly, Crosshair plucks the runny canvas from its easel and makes sure not to take it beyond the edge of the tarp. Hunter would be disappointed to find a mess on the beautiful hardwood floors so soon after he's treated them. And you'd be disappointed with yourself to give a portrait to an important friend in its current state. What should have been beautiful, angular and geometric lines are little more than a royal mess.

"Just go ahead and trash it for me…" 

The same brow arches. "Why?" 

"Because I don't want to give Hardcase a painting that looks like that..." you reply, huffing in your disappointment and frustration that you'd gotten so sloppy with your oils. "I said his portrait would be perfect practice for crisp, angular forms with that beautiful pop of blue from his tattoo and this is… far from it." 

Your housemate looks at you with mild surprise. As far as mild surprise goes for Crosshair, anyhow. He wouldn't look quite so aghast like Wrecker, or frown quite so deeply as Echo. 

"Who are you and what have you done to the Bob Rossified [____] we know and admire? What happened to the happy accidents?" Ordinarily, the comparison to the famous art instructor and television host would have made your face burn brighter than your favorite brand of alizarin crimson paint. 

Instead, you scoff at him. "Very funny..." 

"I'm serious." Crosshair insists, setting the portrait back on the easel once you've wiped it down, "What's the matter?" 

You shouldn't snap at him, but your mouth just runs away from you. "I thought I got a call back from the place I applied to. I was wrong! It was some damn spam call, and I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed. Okay? Happy now?" 

The palms of his hands flash in a surrendering fashion to you before he speaks. "I'd say you're more angry than disappointed." Sighing, you take your cleaning rag and do Crosshair a favor by removing the thinned, blue oil paint from his hands after he notices it himself. "Kriff. Sorry." 

Gently, you assure him you'll take care of it. That it's no trouble. That he's right, after some thought, "I guess… I am angry. All these places that are supposedly so kriffing desperate for employees sure take their damn sweet time. Or they seem to be hiring everyone but you. It makes me feel… invisible. They should have called me by now! Right…?" Crosshair looks at the calendar tacked to the wall of your little studio, where it's written in your favorite color the day you applied to the art supply store. They definitely should have by this point, he agrees. 

"Have they reached out by email?" he asks gently, watching as you take that same cleaning cloth and gingerly wipe down the bottom edge of the canvas. He's convinced you for the time being not to break it over your knee and pitch it into the curbside bin until you at least give yourself an hour away from your brushes to think it over. 

You shake your head, "I've been checking every day. Nothing." You now wash your brushes before the paint gums up the bristles, at least. And then you promise you'll lay aside your brushes and go grab a bite to eat with him. "And most places these days, they're likely to actually trash your résumé if you call them to 'follow up' on your application process. That old piece of unsolicited advice needs to die out, pronto. Just because it worked for- for- Agatha and her generation, doesn't mean it works for mine!" 

Crosshair snorts. 

"What?" 

"Agatha?"

"Shut up… I could have gone with Karen and been unoriginal." you grumble, gingerly fixing the arrangement of your fan brush. 

Crosshair retorts sarcastically, giving you a playful smirk. "The 1930s called, they'd like to know why you're using such a dated name." Ordinarily, Crosshair stays out of your hair (and your studio) by never bothering you as you work, but it's clear that he's trying to cheer you up, even a little. 

"Unless the 1930s is offering me a job," you start, plucking the thin script brush from his dexterous fingers just as he begins to twirl it, "it better not bother me by calling…" 

"The art store will call you eventually, I'm sure…" he tells you, the grim frown matching your souring expression. "You love art. You're a creative person. What better person to work at a place like that than someone who could practically recite an episode of The Joy of Painting in her sleep?" You point out, playfully, that Tech could recite an episode of Painting in his sleep just as easily as you. But at least you crack a smile as you do so, so he lets it slide. "Okay, you and my brother." Cross concedes, thinking back to the time the household decided to try a "painting party" to break up the seasonal gloom last December. "Maybe Hardcase and Wrecker too, if the pocket squirrels make an appearance." 

Here, you finally chuckle. "Forgetting Fives would be criminal. Or how concentrated Dogma gets." 

Cross just nods agreeably, hoping to keep a good thing going. "I wouldn't dare. My point is, you'd be amazing at an art store. They'd be lucky to have a gal like you who gives a kriff about art working for them." 

You flash Crosshair a confused and crooked smile as you set down the last of your brushes and tighten the last twist-cap on your tube of oil-based paints. "You think so?" You're surprised how… sincere Crosshair sounds. You had to do a little metaphorical arm twisting just to get him to join you when the only spot left in the living room was a seat on the couch next to Rex. 

Cross just nods decidedly. "C'mon. Let's grab a burger or something. My treat." A burger sounds great, you tell him, fixing your shirt so it's not on backwards before you stroll out the door.

Maker above, did he really mean his treat. Crosshair took you both down to the best burger joint in the city, where the two of you ate your respective orders and split a carton of fries with the house seasoning and plenty of salt. 

"Oooh, kriff me…" you moaned blissfully, sucking your fingers clean of the granules of salt and seasoning, "these fries hit the spot every time." They're probably your favorite thing here, honestly. Perfect amount of crispness, balanced flavor, and hot; never ever tepid or cold. Cross snags a few more fries from the carton before nudging it your way, inviting you to polish off the rest. "You don't want any more?" you ask, curious. "There's still plenty in there to share." 

He offers a lazy shrug, "I'll think about it." He slips his phone from his pocket when he hears a ping, and he hums thoughtfully after reading the message. "... Think I should let Wrecker find out on his own that he's home alone?" You can only shake your head disapprovingly of the wry smile, mouth too full of food to chastise him. While Wrecker and Crosshair weren't afraid of messing around with one another, you worried about it getting out of hand on occasion. "Fine. I'll let him know we're not home so the big guy doesn't worry, doll. In fact…" 

Cross types down a message much longer than a simple courtesy "we're not home" text, and then cleans up the discarded burger wrappers and straw sleeves, snagging a few more fries once you say you can't possibly eat another bite. "Good. Not a lot of fun when you go shopping hungry." 

"Didn't we just make a grocery run two days ago?" Crosshair shakes his head, then pitches everything into the large garbage receptacle as you grab your things. "Not that kind of shopping then." you determine. There were a lot of possible options, but you didn't have to slog through another massive grocery list, at least. "Where are we going?" 

"You'll see." Crosshair replies simply, holding the door for you to follow after as he steps into the parking lot. "I had an idea." Now you really wonder where you're going, or what he has planned. Crosshair and spontaneity get along about as well as a Tooka and bathwater, sometimes. 

You have to remind yourself that Crosshair wasn't a complete stick in the mud all the time, and when you first met him, he was still working for the same company that his other brothers had quit once they found out what kind of person the man who ran this multimillion company turned out to be. 

First found himself working under some bloke named Edmon down the managerial line, before he was arrested for embezzlement. Then a real asswipe of a superior named Nolan took over, and after someone got hurt really badly on a "company retreat" and Nolan refused to call for an ambulance, Crosshair finally came to his senses about the place. 

They don't give a shit about how loyal of a worker you are, just like Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Echo warned him. They were right all along. 

You thought you mattered to us? Please… Someone younger and desperate enough will come in and take your place if we feed them enough honeyed lies!

So Cross stole Nolan's car and drove himself and the injured coworker down to a hospital two hours away from the company retreat. Crosshair had known the guy for less than 24 hours (or something like that), but Mayday's injury helped Cross come to realize that the company was a sinking ship. So he got them both out. Now, Mayday and Cross spend every Sunday night checking in on each other. Cross works odd jobs from home, mostly, and Mayday… Well he was content with not being employed for a while. 

The longer Crosshair has been living at home with his brothers again, the more he's starting to get (some of) his old sense of self back. He's no longer couch surfing because he didn't want to deal with his brothers fussing over his choice to remain with the company. 

He was never, ever kicked out. 

Cross had always been welcome to come back home, with a spare key tucked under the welcome mat if he ever needed it. 

You'd been the one to find him letting himself into the house at three in the morning after Mayday talked Cross into going and seeing his brothers. You were "leasing" a room from the brothers at the time, and they had let you know the deal about Crosshair. "Please don't call the police if you ever find someone who's just… let himself into the house. That's our brother. We've been worried about him. He's made choices we don't agree with, but he's still our brother. We care about him." 

Of course, Cross had no warning about you, but he eventually warmed up to you in time after you had practically broken Hunter's door off its hinges to let him know that Cross was here and he was tackled into the coffee table by the biggest of his brothers in Wrecker's excitement.

That spare key under the welcome mat now sits on your ring of keys, which you fiddle with in your hands the longer you and Crosshair drive through the city. 

"Isn't this the way downtown?" 

"Mhm." 

"Still won't give me a hint, Cross?" 

"No." he chuckles, pulling the steering wheel into a smooth left turn. "You'll see soon enough, doll."

He's taken you to the art store, to your surprise. The one you applied to. Not that specific location you applied to in town, thank the Maker, but the chain, rather. "I haven't been to one of these places in years…" Cross admits softly as he pulls himself out of the car. "Figured while we were out of the house, we'd stop by." 

"How come?" you ask. You'd recently just bought a bunch of paint, so it's not like you needed anything in particular, really, maybe just wanted… There was one particularly pricey art supply you've had your eye on and lusting after for a while now, but given your current unemployment status, you're really trying to control your spending. "You got a project in mind, or somethin', Cross?" 

Shoulders bounce. "Not really." 

"So… what are we doing here?" 

"Looking." he declares, steering you into the store by your shoulder. "Lookings always free. So is anything you can apply the five-finger disco-"

"Cross!" 

"I'm kidding." he declares semi-defensively, laughing at the expression on your face. "C'mon, doll, you know I'm kidding. Hard to smuggle out a whole canvas or large pack of… whaddya call those markers? Cop-picks?" 

Mild mortification turns into bubbly giggles over his decent effort to pronounce the brand name. "Copics. They're called Copic markers. And, they're kind of a scam." He just looks at you with an expression of confusion, so you figure you better explain. "Here, lemme show you." Taking his hand, you lead Cross down to the aisle dedicated to sketch pads, pencils and markers. On the shelves, there's dozens of specialty packs and bundles with quirky names. 

Oceanic, "Beach Blast!", and skin tones are all prominently stocked for the summer. Singleton markers are what you're looking for though. You pluck a Copic Classic from one of the slots, and point to the price sticker. 

A whopping 9.65 credits for a single kriffing marker. "Keep that in mind," you say, as you scoot down the aisle and show him the stock of Ohuhu brand markers, "and compare it to this." You select a similar color to the Classic in the Ohuhu brand, and tap the price sticker. A far more reasonable 2.49 credits.

He scratches the back of his head and neck. "What the kriff…? Is there a significant difference in the brand or something?" He's not exactly all that artistically inclined like you are, so to him, he's not sure if there's anything he's seeing that warrants such sticker-shock for a damn marker. 

"Just the name, really. Copic markers aren't really the end-all-be-all of alcohol-based art markers anymore. Ohuhu branded markers are just as good as Copics, and you get more markers for say… fifty credits in Ohuhus than Copics." you explain, putting the markers back in their respective slots. "I won't bore you with more details that go into it, but that's the bare bones of it." 

Cross nods politely to indicate he's listening to you, lifting a pack of art markers off the display to give it a closer look. Once he has satisfied his curiosity, he puts it back and glances at the different sketch pads. "And these probably tell you what they're best suited for, somewhere." You confirm his thought with a simple nod, tapping one of the sketchbooks. Drawing pad, 64 pages best suited for graphite, marker and colored pencils. 

"They'll often tell you either on the cover, or on an inside page, sometimes. Depends on the brand."

You're getting the feeling that maybe Cross is looking for something after all, but he won't admit it to you. He keeps asking you question after question as you go down each aisle of the store. If there's a section dedicated to a particular craft you're not very familiar with, the two of you just look at the items in silence for the most part. You're (pun not entirely intended) pouring over all the different resin supplies together when Crosshair asks you another question to break the silence. 

"Do you ever show your art online? Some kind of… creative forum, or something? Or is it all just personal projects, like the portraits you've done for Rex and the one you're trying to do for Hardcase?" 

You chew your bottom lip for a moment as you mull over what you'll say. "I… stopped. For a long time." 

"Why?" 

You huff softly, returning one of the unusual resin molds back to the shelf. Little space shuttles and UFOs and such. (Space travel… wouldn't that be something?) "I couldn't get out of the trap of comparing myself to others. I don't know if you could call it imposter syndrome, or anxiety, or what. But I just felt… small. Unnoticed. Invisible." Crosshair frowns, stepping closer to you to allow someone with a large cartful of yarn and children's paint sets squeeze past. She looked like a teacher, gentle and kind and so, so tired. But she gave the pair of you a kind smile as she moved down the aisle and pondered over the different bags of beads one could buy in bulk for crafts. 

"That's the second time you've used that word, [____]." 

You give him an inquisitive look, surprised by his statement. The rare use of your name. "Wh-what word?" 

"Invisible." Crosshair answers, closing that gap between you further when his hand reaches out to cup your face for a moment to scrutinize you, study you. "Is that how you feel?" 

"I guess?" you start, but you think a little more, and you find that, yes, sometimes you do feel invisible. "I feel like… people don't… notice me. Like I'm trying to do it all damn wrong. It's been fucking weeks and places won't call me back! Or I'll post things and it gets a handful of interactions when I put the effort into it, but the shit I don't, that's what fucking blows up and goes viral. I don't fucking get it and I… sometimes I just don't know why I bother trying to apply myself when I'm just… invisible and unseen. This shit sucks, Cross." you admit a little bitterly. You take a deep breath and apologize for swearing in the store, in case the other customers can hear you. You apologize again when the tears begin to prickle and well in the corners of your eyes for getting so worked up, but you're just kind of at a loss for what to do next. You've tried so many things… you just feel like you're talking to yourself because no one will answer your applications. 

Crosshair doesn't say anything for a while, and you don't take it to heart. He's not the chattiest of your housemates, as you learned a long time ago. Sometimes, he did have things to say, but he wanted to take some care with his words if Cross sensed he needed to be a little more delicate. 

And he could be surprisingly good at being delicate when the need arises.

Assuringly, tenderly, Crosshair brushes the tears from your eyes and motions for you to follow him. "I see how much this stuff matters to you. If a stuffy old art store can't see it, just know that I see it. You're not invisible to me, kid. I see you." He's brought you to the paint section, coming to a stop in front of the selection of oil paints in particular. 

"I may not understand all of… this," he gestures broadly at the display of thick, silver-foil tubes of paint, and selects a beautiful cerulean blue off the rack, "but I see how much this means to you. You know your shit. You're getting better all the time. I see that. One day, I think people will see that you know your shit too, and you won't have to feel so invisible anymore. But I see you. Hunter, and Wrecker and Tech, and- your friends see you, doll. You've got such a passion for these things… but you're…" 

You wait for him to continue for a moment, wondering what he wants to say. You decide to hazard a guess when all he can offer is a soft shrug when he finds himself at a loss for words. "Beating myself up, too much…?" You eye the tube of paint in his hands, and wonder for a moment why he's been taking so many things off the shelves only to look at them before putting them back in their proper place. Tech's told you Cross has sharp eyesight, perhaps more on the farsighted side if anything. (Was he more farsighted than you initially assumed?)

"Perhaps." Cross admits, softly juggling the tube in the palm of his hand. "If nothing else I said sticks with you… I just hope that the fact that I see and recognize your efforts does, doll. I know I'm only one person, but sometimes, just hearing it from one person is all we need." 

You feel your cheeks pinch with a little smile hearing him say that. One of those things, one of those times where someone says exactly what you needed to hear when you didn't know you needed to hear it most. "That's… awfully nice of you to say, Crosshair. Thank you…" 

"I should give some credit to Mayday," Crosshair admits with a soft laugh, now pulling a tube of cobalt and ultramarine blue off the shelves, "he's the one who's been encouraging me to… do what feels right, if he thinks I'm feeling a little lost between the odd job. And doing what feels right includes helping you restart that portrait of Hardcase if you really think you need to trash the first one." 

"Is that why you keep grabbing all those different blues?" you giggle, watching him now idly shuffle three different tubes of blue oil paint in his hands. 

Crosshair nodded, making you laugh as he grabbed a fourth tube with a wink. "Yeah. I noticed that you didn't have these blues back at home. And that you use phthalo blue a lot like a certain painter." 

"Are you comparing me to Bob Ross again?" you tease, stifling a laugh as you make your way to the checkout together. You've been away from your brushes for more than an hour at this point, and you're itching to get back to the process of creating while you still have the time to do as much as you want; before you're hopefully contracted with a job offer and have less time to dedicate to such things. 

"Maybe." he purrs mischievously, ringing up each of the paints before carefully wrapping them up in their own separate plastic bags for the trip home. "If I am, do I get to see you paint?" 

You can only shake your head with a gentle laugh. "We'll see, Cross." 

That's good enough for him, he says as you collect the receipt from the self checkout machine, just so long as you promised you'd give yourself a little more grace and faith that soon enough, you'd get the job offer you wanted. 

Some days will be easier than others… but you'll do your best, you promise. You're pretty sure you can manage that.

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

Tagging: @the-hexfiles who wanted to see some soft!Crosshair <3

Note from Frost: Apparently Mayday got assigned some kind of "Work Dad who takes care of and looks out for the younger employees" vibes while I was writing this self-indulgent (and mildly therapeutic) quick-fic, lmao. And hopefully, this ends up being good practice for soft!Crosshair down the line, as it comes into play in the next long-form series I'm working on. Yeah maybe it's perhaps a tad too out-of-character, but kriff it. 

[sphnyspinspin]

Wip game

"how to parent a whirl"

Oh my gosh, how I love Whirl and Whirl Jr. lore drama. I may have revamped the plot a bit since I used this title for a different one-shot, but this is a potential storyline, and I was honestly throwing stuff at the wall.

But tbh THIS FIC does this prompt SO MUCH JUSTICE HOLY CRAP! I’m not downplaying my WIP, I’m just saying that this is where the mega-angsty Whirl and Whirl Jr. lore drama can be triangulated.

Basically Whirl Sr. has been psyching himself out, by trying to prepare himself for the talk with Whirl Jr. about his past. She is his family now so she automatically has a right to know how much of a piss-poor example her caretaker was in the far-far past… right?

Time flies by and Whir Jr. continues to see her mentor as this strong, noble, and fun-loving goofy guy who may be a bit of a meanie head sometimes, but means well. Ever since she was a sparkling she looked up to Whirl so much that she took on his name just because she admires the guy.

He may just be a humble clock-tinkerer, but he’s more than that, and she just knows it!

Whirl Jr. was at that stage in every bot’s life where she wanted to do more. Liking helping those you care about in any way you can, just like her mentor always taught her!

And when she got the brilliant idea to become a policebot, of all things, she was surprised at how quickly her mentor shot the idea down.

But that never stopped her from trying. So she persisted and begged Whirl Sr. for a chance to become a “hero of the people” non-stop, until he caved.

Now she has returned home after her second year of being a rescue recruit training at Earth’s, one and only, Rescue Bots Academy.

Whirl Sr. was supposed to tell her last year, but chickened out last minute. He had to tell her now. Or at least until the ‘Welcome Back’ party is over.

Whirl Jr. eventually finds him moping by himself on the rooftop, which transcends into them finally having… the talk.

It went just as expected. Whirl Sr. didn’t spare a single detail about how he lost his limbs. Or his actions while working for the council. Or how he acted during the war.

Suffice to say… Whirl Jr. was in shock, to say the least.

FYI I abandoned this concept and this draft but I still want to do something similar for my AU whenever I do more angst. This is so not revitalized, merely just me typing what comes to mind.

[hollyethecurious]

6x12 Fix-It Fic: Tell No Tales

Summary: A fix-it for Season 6 episode 12 - Murder Most Foul. In where Hook never receives the pages from August.

A/N: I have no qualms over the fact that Hook killed Robert, I just hate that it added angst for angst sake in the show. This is how I WISH it had gone. Also, I realize there was no illustration of Hook killing Robert in the book, but this is my fix-it and I'll take liberties however I choose, gosh darnit!

Much love to @kmomof4 for giving this a once over!

Rated G / ~1k / Available on Ao3 and FF.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

~/~

August sat staring at the pages laid out upon his workbench, a war of conscience churning away in his gut. He couldn’t tell them he hadn’t found them, his nose might give him away. Neither David nor Hook were magical - though Hook had been not so long ago - but he didn’t dare risk lying and ruining the progress he’d made towards redeeming himself for all his past misdeeds.

Misdeeds that were cataloged in the pages in front of him. Pages that told the parts of his story he was least proud of and had wanted to make disappear from the storybook. Pages that displayed a number of dark offenses, and though not all of them were solely Pinocchio's doing, each one would likely carry their own complicated ramifications, despite being ancient history.

The rap of knuckles against the workshop door preceded the swaggering entrance of the person who would likely suffer from those ramifications, and August hastily gathered and stowed away the pages before Hook had a chance to see them.

“Apologies for coming by so late,” the Captain said, making his way towards the bench. “I was on my way home and wanted to stop by and let you know we won’t be needing those pages afterall.”

August could not help the way his entire body balked in response. “You don’t? But I thought David needed them to--”

“David got the answers he was looking for,” Hook said in a low tone. “It was King George’s treachery that led to Robert’s death.”

“Are you… are you certain of that?”

“Aye,” Hook sighed. “He admitted to it, and Dave…” Fiddling with the end of his hook, the man paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncomfortably before he carried on. “Dave has made his peace with it. He got the closure he needed.”

“That’s… that’s great,” August replied, his pulse racing with turmoil as his conscience warred with his heart.

“In fact,” Hook continued, taking a deep breath as he dug his hand into his pant’s pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. “He gave me his blessing to ask Emma to marry me, so when I get home…”

He left the statement hanging in midair, swirling around the box that was now open with a sparkling diamond ring sitting expectantly within the satin lining. Reaching forward, August took the box to give the ring a closer look.

“It’s perfect,” he stated, his words slightly choked with emotion. “Congratulations.” Snapping the box closed, he handed it back to Hook. “You and Emma deserve every happiness.”

“Thanks, mate.” Returning the box to his pocket, Hook started to leave, but something caused him to turn back. “Look, mate. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, or gotten on, but I…” Swiping his tongue over his lips, Hook lifted his eyes to meet August’s. Sincerity and concern, the likes of which he had never seen in the pirate’s gaze, pierced through him from those blue depths. “I haven’t always been your biggest supporter, and I know I could have been more… gracious, regarding your and Emma’s friendship, but I want you to know, I see how you’ve changed.”

August sat up a bit straighter, shifting in his chair as the unexpected remarks continued to flow from the pirate’s mouth.

“I know what it’s like to have constant reminders of the terrible things you’ve done surrounding you.” Hook began to twist the ring on his pointer finger around with his thumb, a sad, half smile pulling at the corner of lips. “Some of them I choose to keep as proof that I am not the man I once was, while others…” Adjusting his stance, Hook rubbed his hand along his jaw, clearly feeling uncomfortable by the conversation, yet unwilling to let the awkwardness of the moment keep him from saying his piece. “What I’m trying to say is, if you do find those pages, the ones you said you weren’t particularly proud of what they revealed about your past, and you find them to be more a hindrance than a help in regards to the future, then take my advice. Burn them. Some things are best left buried. It doesn’t change the amends you’ve made or the reconciliations you’ve attempted. If all they serve is to cause you pain in making you relive the deeds of a person who no longer exists, then… get rid of them.”

Several ticks of the clock echoed through the workshop, their soft clicks drowned out by the scrape of August’s chair as he stood and thrust his hand out towards Hook. “I will. Thank you, Captain.”

Hook gave August’s hand a firm shake, then with one last nod, he bid him goodnight and departed. For the first time in many hours, August felt at peace. Collecting the pages from where he’d stashed them, he made his way towards the fireplace and tossed them into the flames.

Hook was right. No good could come from those pages. David had made peace with his father’s passing, George was already locked away for his many other atrocities, and Hook… was no longer Hook. Besides, for too many years, August had failed in his mission to watch over and protect the princess. Time and again he’d failed to do the right thing so she could fulfill her destiny. Burning a few pages seemed a small price to pay to protect her happy ending now. A happy ending that would only be marred if anyone ever knew the truth. A truth currently curling into cinders as the image of a fearsome pirate captain running a man through with his sword succumbed to the flames of the workshop fire.

“Dead men tell no tales,” August murmured, reading the illustration’s caption as it turned to ash. Indeed, dead men tell no tales… and neither would he.

My ao3 | ff.net | buy me a coffee | add to tag list | Curious? Come Ask Me!

Tagging the Curious Crew:

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @sals86 @jennjenn615 @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @heavenlyjoycastle @sunshine2632 @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @cocohook38 @unworried-corsair @aprilqueen84 @tiganasummertree @ilovemesomekillianjones @ultraluckycatnd @wyntereyez @ultimiflos @superchocovian @qualitycoffeethings @facesiousbutton82 @theonceoverthinker @piracytheorist @shardminds​ @skystar87 @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo @xarandomdreamx @queen-serena88 @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @therooksshiningknight @karl0ta @melly326 @nadine200179 @xsajx @demisexualemmaswan @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @monosalvatore16 @jonesfandomfanatic @ouatpost @spaceconveyor @natascha-ronin @zaharadessert @earanemith @dragonfireonthehorizon @strangestarlighttree @the-darkdragonfly @heratulipsia @pirateherokillian @sailtoafarawayland @captainirishstubble @uhthreeyuh @justanotherflailgirl @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @youherotype @chinawoodfan @batana54 @fandomlovver @pcrcabcth @strangestarlighttree @captainswan21 @karlyfr13s @emmythedaydreamer @motherkatereloyshipper @jadehowlettthewolf @anmylica @deckerstarblanche @julesep3026 @teastarsandplayingcards @swancakes @bluewildcatfanatic @pirateprincessofpizza @jackieorioncat @an-overly-caffeinated-introvert @bigfunguschungus @veiled-in-moxie

[whattraintracks]

TMNT ask game!

20.) Which theme song is your favorite?

21.) What is your favorite story arc?

28.) What is one thing you would like to see explored more in TMNT art/fics?

20.) Gah, I love all the tmnt music so much, you have no idea. The '03 theme is a major bop, I hardly ever skip it. The full-length version of the Rise theme has some neat lyrics and musical moments. My absolute favorite, if this counts, is the theme from the Out of the Shadows soundtrack. It's a loud, high-energy remix of the '87 theme with good vocals, an epic rap, a sick guitar solo, and go ninja go ninja go. It's got it all.

21.) I loved Big Brawl in '03! Also, Rise's Tales of the Hidden City. I enjoy it when characters start in the same place, have separate adventures during which they occasionally cross paths or subtly reference what the others are up to, and all end up back together. It's like one of those kid activity pages where you follow the jumbled, squiggly lines from one side to the other.

28.) Mikey, Raph, and Leo's adventures in the Ultimate Drako arc! Since I only just watched it, I haven't gone looking for fanworks about it yet. I'm sure they exist, but I haven't seen as many come up as I do for SAINW. I'm equally intrigued by the potential for exploring or drawing out the others' time in their respective universes and imagining the after-effects.

Does Mikey think often about The Sliver? About how he helped the superturtles kill their father, a twisted mirror of his own? How does his experience affect the way he superheros? How does it affect his relationship with the Justice Force? With villains? With comics? Maybe I just haven't read enough '03 fics yet, but I LOVE Turtle Titan and want so much more of him, in general.

I talked a little about Raph and the planet racers in my reaction post, and @terrahlee-cup added some excellent thoughts. He was there for three days!! So much potential for in-between moments. Let him interact with the other racers, talk shop, show off his ninja skills, or just walk around freely. Did he throw himself into learning the strange mechanics and designs of his temporary bike to keep himself busy between races instead of running himself ragged, worrying about his family? Did he look for a way out on his own or force himself to focus only on the race, hoping that if he kept his end of the deal, so would Methania and Falcon? Surely he won't be all angst back home. Maybe, in true sibling fashion, he shoves it in Mikey's face: 'Oh, you won the battle nexus tournament? Well, I won a death race across an entire alien planet!' Maybe he goes right back to upgrading the shell cycle alongside Casey with a million new ideas. Maybe he ropes Don into discussions about how mechanical engineering differs across dimensions due to divergences or advancements in scientific knowledge or even different laws of physics.

And gosh, Leo must have felt so uneasy traveling in broad daylight in Usagi's world. Plus, it must have really stung to face prejudice not for his appearance (something he expected and had prepared for with humans) but because of his ninja training and heritage, something he so proudly cultivated and dedicated himself to. How did he feel at the Nexus, knowing he nearly sent Raph plummeting to his death as he tried and failed to return his family to him with the war staff?

I very much enjoyed answering these questions! Thanks <3

[loosingmoreletters]

🌩️ and/or ☔ for the wip game please!

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Oh gosh, I have too many fic ideas for MDZS but here is one: funky gender and pregnancy ahead.

LWJ returns from his travels with a beautiful woman. She’s strong and smart and when he asks permission to marry this Wen Ying, both his uncle and brother are unwilling to give permission.

You’re too young, she’s a Wen and worst of all - no Lan will have a fox bride.

But, well, LWJ is stubborn and his love dejected.

“I should’ve expected it,” they say. “I can turn myself into a woman, have Wen Qing adopt me into her sect and follow all those rules, your uncle barely took more than one look at me before he said no.”

What a fool Wei Ying had made of himself, thinking he might have a chance. But, well, Lan Wangji is stubborn, so in the morning, LXC sends out disciples to find his brother and his runaway fox bride, but for all sense and purpose, they’ve vanished into the wind.

Three years later, LXC sees his brother again, as he marches into the Lan camp with a Wen General’s decapitated head.

“They burned down our village when we refused to fight,” says LWJ, Hölle like he’s never been. “They killed my spouse and child.”

LXC pulls his brother close.

At the other war front, Jiang Cheng meets the brother he should’ve had. The last time JC had thought of him had been when rumors of the second Jade of Lan eloping with a fox broke through. His father grew sad then, spoke of the boy he couldn’t save. JC feels inadequate as a sect leader, but he hopes he can do his father proud in this. Wei Wuxian is a walking nightmare, has cultivated six blackened tails from the resentment of the dead. “Wen Chao took the three I had,” Wei Wuxian said. “I want his head and heart for my dead spouse and son.”

Jiang Yanli looks at him and thinks WWX needs help, JC thinks that perhaps he can do his father proud if he offers WWX a place in their sect, something to live for.

And then, there in the heart of Qishan, is Wen Ning. He lacks confidence, most of the time, so people think him incapable of lying, but he was taught to lie by the greatest performer of all. He does not remember the day his mother came home with an injured boy and offered him a place to stay, but he does recall the day WWX asked for etiquette lessons, and the day he returned home again with his fiancé and asked if they could hold a wedding there in Dafan, the money WN and his sister put aside for a marriage to Gusu Lan instead used for travels, and later fixing up a cottage to live in until the child would be born. The point is this: WN lies well when the situation demands it, so he lied about the child he pulled from the charred remains of his best friend’s home, claimed the kid as a direct cousin, instead of an adopted nephew. Now all he needs is to get him back to his parents.

Or: I really wanted a fic wheee wangxian meet early and wanna get married but there are enough objects for LWJ to leave his sect, but it escalates into “how long can two characters think they lost everything they loved.”

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

From an Omegaverse, somehow T rated fic about bitching.

“The quicker you accept it, the easier it’ll be to deal with,” Jiang Cheng advised like a wise old mentor and not the younger brother he actually was.

Entirely unacceptable.

“I can fix this,” Wei Wuxian insisted.

And, despite knowing better, Jiang Cheng asked, “How? Lan Wangji can’t bitch you—”

Wei Wuxian paused in his splashing and raised his head just to see Jiang Cheng’s horrified expression. He couldn’t tell if that was because his brother refused to think about Wei Wuxian’s sex life, which was also what Wei Wuxian preferred, or because he’d hit the nail on the head. Wei Wuxian cackled.

[ainulindaelynn]

[20 Question Fic Writer Tag]

Thanks for the tags, loves! @brasideios @whereforartthoumisthios

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

1, technically, as they’re all connected.

2. What is your AO3 word count?

Currently 12k-ish. I pulled a bunch down a few months ago to rework things that were half-edited and bothering me. They haven’t returned yet, but I’m optimistic.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

AO3 will tell you only AC Odyssey, but in my active drive I have WIPs for AC Valhalla, Red Dead Redemption 2 (which I need to lure more of my AC mutuals into playing... ;)), Stardew Valley, and BG3. There maaay be a few pieces I'm reworking from fanfiction.net also. Those ones are for Knights of the Old Republic, Dragon Age Origins, and maybe even a Snow White & the Huntsman (xD). As a teen I wrote a bit of LoTR and Star Wars (old republic era OCs mostly), but that's been ages.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fewer than five posted, so I'm skipping this one!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, mostly because I know most writers love comments, so I try to reward people who take the time. Honestly, if not for that I would blind-post everything and opt out of seeing kudos/comments. I love them, but it's too easy to depend on the reassurance. I'd rather drop them into the internet abyss and interact with people who seek me out on tumblr. I’d never give up the chance to connect over them though. You all are too kind and awesome <3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

KotOR probably. It’s about Revan recovering her memory and reconnecting with the purpose of her fall, which leads her to walk the same way again, but with more care and less hope. Also going alone, as repentance for Malak’s fate.

ACO's has an angstier storyline (Brasidas Dx), but the actual ending is long after that wraps up, so it doesn’t quite count ;)

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

SDV probably. How could anyone write Shane without giving him a happy ending? That guy needs a happy ending!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, mostly by accident. There's a lot of chemistry exposition there and I always cave to that. Probably equal parts F/F and F/M.

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

Nope! Open to it, but my brain doesn't leap like that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Although if anyone wanted to take my old ideas and run with them, I' it'd save me a lot of work reconfiguring! xD I also love re-writes. Everyone picks up on different nuances and I love to see the same idea expressed different ways. Direct theft not so much.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

When I was a young teen, but not since. My co-writer and I reconnected last year and its funny the kind of bond (and friction) that forms.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm not capable of answering that question. Genuinely. Pass!

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm happily in denial about all of them, thank you very much. Leave me and my 25 fics alone! xD

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh gosh. I've been told action, but if that's true it's entirely by luck. Writing it is like pulling teeth. I'm going to join this question with the next, because I think strengths and weaknesses are often two sides of the same, and say introspection and body language minutia, because I LOVE those, but could easily write entire chapters of that, so I'm constantly cutting that down. Blessing and a curse, ya know?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The above, because it's to excess, but also OCD editing tendencies. I have a thing about cadence, varying paragraph and sentence-length, and (most oppressively) magnetizing my sentences. I'm not sure what the actual term for that is, but when you tie the end of one sentence to the beginning of the next with a common thought or word. We’re taught to do it with paragraphs, obviously, but on a tighter level. Every sentence. It's fun for reader fluidity, but way too much work.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have no skills for it, but as long as it's translated, I enjoy reading it!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably LotR. I had an OC who insisted on following two steps behind the fellowship, intersecting with them a few times. Third Age, the game, was built on the same premise, so I eventually abandoned it in lieu of that.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Imagined or written? Because the answer is different. Imagined is probably DA:O. Written is ACO, by far. I've never put so much time in on a story. Someday I'll make it cohesive enough to post! xD

I’m still emerging from my hermit cave and don’t know who’s done what, so I’m going to skip tagging this time, but I missed you all and am glad to be back(ish) 😂

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

a fanfic writer questionnaire that you should absolutely do

Filling out my own questionnaire :) For funsies.

THE BASICS

Name(s): Lurkinglurkerwholurks

Where do you post fic? AO3, with Tumblr crossposting

Primary/current fic writing fandom: BatFam

Secondary/past/rotating fic writing fandoms: MCU (3 fics) with secondary tags on the BatFam posts to Stranger Things, Tenet, and Queen’s Thief.

Are there fandoms you write for but don’t read, or vice versa? I don’t read any of those secondary tags. I don’t write but very selectively read Star Wars, Star Trek, and FMA. (I used to read TAZ but don’t anymore.)

THE STATS

How long have you been writing fics? Since March 2018. I posted my first fic that April.

How many have you written? 91 (holy cow)

How many have you posted (complete or incomplete)? 91. One of those is incomplete and one is in progress. I have fragments of a couple more, but not enough to even count as half fics.

What’s your word count by year? Not totally sure because my two big fics stretched across multiple years. According to AO3:

2018 - 83,394

2019 - 102,244

2020 - 164,370

2021 - 114,915

2022 - 79,981 (so far)

But with the understanding that Nature and Nurture (109,065) started in 2018 and ended in 2020 and The Return (52,589) started in 2020 and ended in 2021.

What was your first posted fic? Mother Bruce and His Baby Birds

If you write in more than one fandom, which is your most popular? BatFam. By far.

What is your most popular fic by bookmark? The Return. 2,496.

What is your most popular fic by subscription? Also The Return, lol. 1,171

What is your longest fic? Nature and Nurture. Word count listed above.

How long did it take you to write it? Published dates are from 5/3/2018, to 3/5/2020. SYMMETRY. I can’t remember how long that first chapter took me to write, though, and I had the last chapter written at least a week before I posted it.

What is your shortest fic? Choose - Lose. 699 words.

How long did it take you to write it? Less than a day. Maybe less than an hour, even. I kind of went into a writerly fugue state and banged it out.

How many series do you have? 14. That is so many.

Who’s your most commonly tagged character? Bruce Wayne (66)

What’s your most commonly tagged relationship (slash or &)? “Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne” and “Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne” are both tied at 16. I... don’t think I have any /.

What’s your most commonly used other tag? Whump (26). Thanks, Whumptober.

THE EMOTIONS

Was there a fic or writer who inspired you to start writing your own posted works? @audreycritter​ and @unpretty​. Unpretty intrigued me with a Batman I didn’t hate. Audrey reeled me in with CEC. But also @starknjarvis27​ because I wanted to surprise her.

What do you remember about writing your first posted fic? Nerves. So many nerves.

Is there a fic or fics you’re most proud of, and why? I answered that here and the full answer is way too long!

Is there a fic you would redo completely if you could? Mother Bruce. Not because I don’t like it (I do! very much!) but because it was my first fic ever. I’m a better writer now, for one, and also while I think that BatFam is a nice BatFam, it may not necessarily be my BatFam, you know?

Is there a specific detail (setting, interaction, quirk, dialogue) you stole from your own life to use in a fic? Oh gosh, so many. I steal little bits and pieces from people I know all the time, because those tend to be the things that give the fictional people I write about texture. “How did you ever think to make up ____.” Eh, if it’s a small things, odds are I didn’t. I can’t come up with an example right now, but when I do, I’ll ETA.

Is there a line in your fic that makes you smile/snicker/chuckle every time you remember it? I give most of my best lines to Jason, but Tim’s breeziness never fails to delight me. “His therapist would call that a red flag, but que sera sera, YOLO, and so forth” is a classic. Also Bruce’s flummoxed “Did you just try to batarang me… with me?”

Is there a line in your fic that makes you sad every time you remember it? lollllllllll. Well. I have 6 works tagged “I Made Myself Cry,” so. But Damian’s I’m sorry I was difficult. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to be a good son. I’m sorry I was such an awful brother. I’m sorry I made you so angry. Please don’t be sad for too long. Please don’t forget about me. still hits hard.

Are there any story ideas you’ve considered but are too nervous/intimidated to attempt? What are they? Yes. No spoilers, but one of these days I’m going to recreate a specific scene from a specific non-DC show that has stuck with me for years.

[magicaltear]

Thanks for the tag @ailendolin! ♡ I'm sorry I'm doing this almost two months later, but better late than never!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19 as of January 2024. I guess I'm a very slow writer, but I'm quite happy with my fics so far ♡

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

193,393. Huh. Sadly, less than I'd hope for.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've only ever written for 1917 and Marvel. I've been toying with some fic ideas for Star Wars, but nothing concrete yet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. An Outside Chance (1,359 kudos - Marvel MCU)

2. In Every Universe (715 kudos - Marvel MCU)

3. I'm Better When I'm Dancing (161 kudos - Marvel MCU)

4. As Long As We Both Shall Live (74 kudos - 1917 film)

5. Echoes of Grief (57 kudos - Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! To every single one of them. It might take me a while, but I very much enjoy doing it. The fun thing about posting fanfic online is getting to hear people's thoughts and reactions. I'll always be grateful to all of my readers who take a moment to leave a comment on my chapters and stories ♡

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would probably be A Million Is Only a Statistic because of the Major Character Death tag. The story follows Colonel Mackenzie and Major Hepburn from the 1917 film, who sadly do not have a happy ending in the fic.

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

I mainly try to write Happy Endings because it is what I enjoy the most, so most of my fics are fairly feel-good stories. Maybe...Peace On Earth (Will Come To Stay) because I could have gone for a sadder ending in so many scenes, but I stubbornly stuck to the Everyone Lives happy ending I wanted for the 1917 characters.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, I don't! ♡ My readers are all absolutely amazing and very supportive. If anything, they might express their dislike for some characters in the fandom, but they never spew hate toward them or my writing. I appreciate them all so much ♡

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I haven't posted any, no, but I have started to practice that type of writing, too. I'd like to include small bits of it in future stories as another chance for character exploration, so I like the kind that helps the plot in that way. (So you won't be seeing any PWP from me any time soon haha!)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do, but not in the classic sense where characters from two fandoms get to interact in the same world. It's more of an alternate universe take, I think. All of them have been for the 1917 fandom so far, but I think my craziest one so far has to be The Great British Pastry War in which I dumped the 1917 characters into the GBBO competition LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe I have, no. Let's keep it that way, shall we?

12. Does not exist apparently (:o)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! And it's a lot of fun~! Please Don't Go (Rushing By) is the only one I've co-written so far, and I hope my friend and I can complete it one day.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh gosh, there are just too many. I never really fall out of love with a ship because there are days when I will be struck with a craving for their dynamic or world so I'll look up fics about them. I guess I always return to Ironstrange, Johnlock, Frostcup, and Klance.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmm, I really wish to continue my Dwelling Impressions series which is a BBC Ghosts AU for 1917, but it is honestly really low in my WIP list at the moment, to be honest :C

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told it's my dialogue and characterization. The characters really do act and sound like themselves in my stories, and that's something I'm rather grateful to hear. The point of fanfiction is being able to recognize your favorite characters in it, right?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I've been struggling with descriptions as of late. I got too used to writing simple cues for scripts, so flowery narration and interesting vocabulary have constantly eluded me. I've also been terrible at consistency, so I keep my poor readers waiting for longer than I'd like (but life has been busy so there's nothing much I can do about it orz)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it a few times. I can speak three languages myself and know a few words in other languages as well, so I know from experience how your language wires can get all tangled in your head. Recently, I've stuck to simply writing the dialogue in English and simply stating in the dialogue tag that the line was spoken in another language for ease of reading.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Whoa, that would have been Naruto way back when Quizilla was still a thing. Maybe some 18 years ago now??? Hot damn.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh no, there's been a lot haha! One thing I like about my fanfics is that I will often go back and reread them because I write exactly what I like. That said...I really like In Every Universe, which is my Ironstrange rewrite of Multiverse of Madness, and my ongoing long fic An Outside Chance. As an honorary mention, I will add A Million Is Only a Statistic because it actually earned its place as an official part of the series that inspired it.

Tagging: @vannral @kiki-shortsnout @aelaer @stewardofningishzida

[bluewren]

WIP Not Wednesday

I got tagged for WIP Wednesday by @melisusthewee, @cleverblackcat, and @nirikeehan. But oh gosh 😂 I dont know who to share this with, I didn't want to share a snippet about Taliesen and Cullen talking in the War room. It just wasn't my vibe.

I got a good chunk of a Final Fantasy XV fic written right now though, but I don't know who would care.😅

Fem!Prompto / Noctis with feeling like she doesn't fit in with her friends and needing to work harder. It's been really bittersweet so far, and lots of things that they couldn't have said years ago and shouldn't be doing now.

Niri, please don't read it, it's extremely spoiler heavy. XD

This uniform had been the one thing that she always kept with her, through multiple moves for extended hunts and whatever the Crownsguard needed her for. Prompto never doubted that Noctis would return one day. However she had not touched the uniform in years, now wondering if it still fits her. At least with all the time she needed to stay moving and barely time to grab a bite, that should be little worry to her. She took the uniform off the hanger and moved them onto her bed to inspect for any scoffs or fraying threads. Biting the corner of her lip while admiring it, from the high frilled collar of the jacket to the cuffs embroidered with the Crownsguard emblem and shaded iron buckles that still reflect back a dramatic shine. It was a stunning outfit, fit to be worn by the king’s retinue. But after all those years, it still doesn’t not feel like it belonged to her. Not to a failed science experiment, that got to Insomnia by too much luck to fit the size of a meteor held up by an Astral. She could never truly be one of the Kingsglaive, the soldiers she always saw training in the courtyard. Then there are the mages, she always admired with their magical light shows of fire, lightning, and ice. The ones she chose to trained with and practiced her arts in service to their king. Like she’s doing now… Prompto sighed one last time, finally reaching for the jumpsuit. She waited way too long, the King’s big day is tomorrow and everything had to be perfect. She stepped into the jumpsuit, letting the leather work itself around her calves.. She felt a nippy breeze when the fabric contoured her thighs, and relaxed the mesh wasn’t just for show. She was pleasantly surprised that the tailors remembered to make the outfit breathable. It began to catch on her bum, not that she didn’t expect it to happen. Jumpsuits were always, a pain to put on. She prepared to pull on the outfit once more, that was when the bedroom door swings open. It was Noctis stepping into their room, choosing to stay in her room for tonight and she happily allowed it. His beard, now freshly tamed. Hair trimmed, and washed of the grease that caked the individual strands after ten years asleep. His aged eyes and angular jaw seem less greasy too, but they were something that had yet set in for Prompto. Noctis’s cheeks turned a slight bit pink when he caught a look at Prompto’s bare nipples and realized what he had interrupted. And she felt that her cheeks did too by the slight heat off her collarbone. “Nice.” He giggled like a high school boy. It somehow made Prompto laugh with him in the same immature way. They stood there for half a minute, before noticing that she was exposed to rest of the garage. “Shut up!” She nudged Noct’s shoulder with her knuckles. “And close the door.” They had seen each other with far less clothes than now, neither minded by the third time they slept in the same tent together. Ignis and Gladio stayed shy the longest, but even they got over her presence. But now, they were both far past the blushing high schoolers that they first knew each other as. This time, there was a comfort between them like the years apart were returning.

I got the idea for this fic, because I thought the mage's outfit was really cute. XD

tagging @maebird-melody | @blarrghe | @demawrites | @morganlefaye79

[leogichidaa]

10 Lines Tagging Game

Thanks for the tag @yletylyf!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway ❤️

And His Mother Lies Buried in His Grave post-Kiss Barty one shot

“What do we do with it?” a voice asks.

It. Not him. Not anymore.

2. Can You Feel the Love Tonight (GIRR series) Regulus/Benjamin Valentine's Day hurt/comfort one shot

Regulus wrapped Hope’s braids around his hands and used them to gently tug her face closer to him. She giggled, her bracelets jingling as she pressed her hands against his chest. She brushed her nose against his and he could feel her hot breath on his face as she said, “You're going to be the death of me, Regulus Black.”

3. Every Other Freckle (GIRR series) Regulus/Evan angst set during their last year of Hogwarts

Regulus glanced over at Evan, who was leaning against a tree and exhaling a puff of smoke into the air with a practised ease that made Regulus feel a bit weak at the knees.

4. The Siren Song Incubus!Regulus WIP, primarily Jegulus (although Regulus has other victims besides James), Regulus plans to seduce and kill James in order to get his brother back from James' clutches

It started with a suitcase. It was, like many things in Regulus’ life (and Regulus liked to think that he himself could be so described) a small thing of enormous consequence.

5. Hoping for a Miracle (GIRR series) Regulus/Benjamin fluffy Christmas fic

Benjamin was bouncing on the balls of his feet with unchecked excitement in his parents' driveway. Regulus sighed heavily.

6. Restitution Regulus lives AU where Regulus goes to visit Sirius in Azkaban

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Charles Greengrass asked his companion as he sat at the bar, swirling his drink in his glass absent-mindedly.

7. Crying, Screaming, Begging, Pleading gosh, I forgot I wrote this. Canon compliant angsty one shot about Regulus contemplating his impending death

Regulus lay flat on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His hands were clasped neatly on his stomach, his brows knitted into an expression of concentrated consternation. His mind felt almost completely unrecognizable lately.

8. Mistaken for Strangers (GIRR series) Regulus lives and disappears into the muggle world until he is discovered and dragged back into the wizarding wars when Voldemort returns

It was uncanny, really, how easily he just…disappeared. 

9. Soul Powered Regulus steals a Horcrux but instead of destroying it he gives it to Walburga.

“Your highest duty, of course, is to protect the children,” Orion lectures the house elf on his second son’s birthday. “Their safety and survival is paramount. You must ensure that nothing ill befalls my children. My sons. My heirs. Do you understand?”

10. Dead to Sin Regulus survives the cave and has a healing a touch

Regulus woke up with a start, shivering from head to toe. He thrashed around frantically, his heart racing madly and his breath coming out erratically.

No pressure tag: @anemicc-royalty @artemisia-black @ncoincidences @limetimo @broomsticks @incalculablepower @allalrightagain @padfootastic @narcissa-black-supermacy @unspeakable3 @green-and-grey-kenaz

[khaleesa]

I posted 792 times in 2022

That's 765 more posts than 2021!

89 posts created (11%)

703 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@joseph-quinns

@womenofmcu

@theavengers

@hangon-silvergirl

@robiinbuckley

I tagged 751 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#stranger things - 409 posts

#eddie munson - 309 posts

#chrissy this is for queue - 279 posts

#hellcheer - 181 posts

#chrissy x eddie - 163 posts

#chrissy cunningham - 153 posts

#fanart - 118 posts

#mcu - 90 posts

#queue were the chosen one - 54 posts

#star wars - 47 posts

Longest Tag: 61 characters

#oh gosh i attempted to write a talespin fic when i was like 8

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“I can’t do this anymore.”

@bratanimus gave me this line for the Five Sentence Ask Fic game. Feel free to drop a sentence in my askbox if you want one!

~*~

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Chrissy stopped running and turned back to see Eddie hunched in the middle of the cracked asphalt road that wound through Forest Hills Trailer Park, hands braced on his thighs (rings flashing as they caught the morning light), gasping for breath...or was he about to throw up?

"Eddie...we haven't even made it to the end of the street, and you promised you'd do the Hawkins Family Fun Run with me next month--"

"Nothing about running is fun," Eddie panted, gingerly pushing to stand upright, "but if it means you'll call me your family--"

"You're my family whether you run with me or not," Chrissy said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him, (wow, he was shockingly sweaty after only running for a couple of minutes, and she could feel his heart about to pound through of his chest), "but I'll have so much more fun if you do."

"I'll literally eat your dust, Chrissy Cunningham," Eddie huffed as he lurched into a jog and Chrissy, laughing, darted ahead.

21 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

#4

Chrissy had never heard of D&D before.

@mxkelsifer gave me this opening line for the Five Sentence Ask Fic game. Feel free to drop a sentence in my askbox if you want one!

***

Chrissy had never heard of D&D before.

Eddie nearly sideswiped a station wagon as he whipped his head toward the passenger seat of his van, where the head cheerleader sat, hands clasped in her lap, seatbelt strapped diagonally across her chest (Oh, shit, he should probably buckle up, too, shouldn't he? Thank fuck he hadn't crashed the van) having responded to his explanation of where he'd been instead of the championship basketball game--which Sinclair had apparently won--with that mind-blowing statement of fact.

"Not even in a bad way?" he asked.

Chrissy's forehead puckered. "Why would anyone talk about a game in a bad way?"

Rattling his rings on the steering wheel, Eddie flashed a grin that could probably only be described as maniacal, as he considered all the information he could pour into her virgin brain during the fifteen-minute drive from Hawkins High to the trailer park.

"Buckle up, Buttercup--" (Oh, wait, she already was, and he still wasn't--he let go of the wheel with one hand to tug the seatbelt across his body) "--I’m gonna take you for a ride.”

23 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

#3

After spending the spring break from hell in the Upside Down, Eddie returns to Hawkins High more determined than ever to graduate…with Chrissy.

Read Chapter 9 or start from the beginning.

If you want to vibe with Corroded Coffin, check out their setlist!

25 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

#2

My husband, a software developer, said tonight: “I will hand it to Jurassic Park for depicting software developers correctly."

Me: “SOFTWARE DEVELOPERS. It’s about cloning dinosaurs and you’re impressed with the SOFTWARE DEVELOPERS?”

Husband: "It’s so realistic. Dude spends all this money on a dinosaur theme park and then cheaps out and only hires ONE GUY who is overworked and it ruins everything."

64 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

For the five sentence fanfic game: "Don't look at me, I thought we were going for tacos."

@hangon-silvergirl gave me this line for the Five Sentence Ask Fic game. Feel free to drop a sentence in my askbox if you want one!

~*~

"Don't look at me, I thought we were going for tacos."

Eddie held up his hands in a gesture of innocence as Wayne’s eyes darted from him to the mewing black kitten cradled in Chrissy’s arms, then back to Eddie again--even his own uncle wasn’t immune from assuming anything unexpected was Eddie’s doing (and usually, he was correct).

“We were,” Chrissy said, “but there was a family in the Taco Bell parking lot with a box in the back of their station wagon that said FREE KITTENS, and we just had to look, and then we we just had to be his cat parents.”

“The rest of the litter was snapped up this morning,” Eddie added, unable to resist scratching the little fuzzball under its chin, melting a little when it gave him the smallest squeak of a meow, “but no one wanted this little dude because apparently people are stupid enough to think black cats are harbingers of doom, can you believe it?”

For a moment, Wayne stared at them, then he gave his head a little shake and said, “Yeah, Ed, I can believe people really are that stupid. Did you two cat parents at least bring me some dang tacos?”

~*~

(Note: If I didn’t have to stop after five sentences, this kitten would totally be named Taco. Did Eddie and Chrissy bring Wayne any dang tacos? You decide!)

76 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 28 CATELYN V (pages 275-283)

Catelyn visits on old haunt from her childhood on the road back to Winterfell, and makes a poor life choice based on some very bad and incredibly incorrect information.

-

The southern rain was soft and warm. Catelyn liked the feel of it on her face, gentle as a mother's kisses. It took her back to her childhood, to long grey days at Riverrun. She remembered the godswood, drooping branches heavy with moisture, and the sound of her brother's laughter as he chased her through piles of damp leaves. She remembered making mud pies with Lysa, the weight of them, the mud slick and brown between her fingers. They had served them to Littlefinger, giggling, and he'd eaten so much mud he'd been sick for a week.

Oh boy, so this gives me a mixed bag of feels. On the one hand, oh my gosh her childhood was so nice and idyllic and cute. On the other hand, why did you deny your daughters those same chances of play. Everything I've read so far has given me the impression that Catelyn severely disapproved of that sort of behaviour from Arya, that Sansa's disapproval of playing in mud came from her mother and septa Mordane. I'd like to belief she's not just a hypocrite at heart, but that it came from a place of love, because she's married into the North which she's always felt an outsider in, so she's tried to ensure her daughters were the best little ladies they could be, because the very first few chapters do illustrate that, that Cat has always had some level of alienation in the North even when she'd lived there for over a decade. Yes, she does step up as the mother of the King in the North later on, and even from the start of the series she does know the people of the north, she is good at being the Lady of Winterfell, but part of her will always belong to the Riverlands, and I'm worried that that inherent sliver of never fully feeling like she belonged coupled with the perceived betrayal of Ned which resulted in Jon has left her feeling like she wasn't enough, and that she's trying to do better by her girls, to raise them better than she was raised so that they'd be the kind of women their husbands wouldn't cheat on. They'd be the right kind of ladies.

sorry got distracted by the possibilities of a perpetuated cycle of incidental abuses that cause long lasting effects and trauma. Where was I? Oh, right:

and on the other other hand It's a pity it didn't do more than make him sick for a week. (Yes, I know, Petyr has his own set of traumas, but consider this: he chose to take that hurt and incite an incident which saw civil wars and shit for several years, devastating the Starks and killing countless people across Westeros. Ooph, getting heavy in the commentary today.)

Catelyn had almost forgotten. In the north, the rain fell cold and hard, and sometimes at night it turned to ice. It was likely to kill a crop as nurture it, and it sent grown men running for the nearest shelter. That was no rain for little girls to play in.

... oooooohhhhh. Okay but the parts about the mud still stand. (I need a fic where Catelyn takes Sansa and Arya to Riverrun for a few months and shows them how to make mud pies in the rain.)

It must not come to war, Catelyn thought fervently. They must not let it. ... "In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king's justice." She did not know what was more satisfying: the sound of a dozen swords being drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannister's face.

Uuuhhmmmmm. Well, that escalated quickly.

"The Hand's tourney means rich lords with fat purses. The last time I came away with more silver than I could Carry... or I would have, if I hadn't lost it all betting on the Kingslayer to win the day."

In another reality this bard just dropped some "Tyrion didn't win the betting either it was the King" lore, and Catelyn would have kept her cool a little better and asked Tyrion about the tourney casually, not revealing why she needed to know, and he would have told her the truth unaware he was a suspect who would need to lie if guilty, and she would have realised something sus was going on.

"And Winterfell?" she asked him. "Have you ever traveled north?" "Why would I?" Marillion asked. "It's all blizzards and bearkskins up there, and the Starks know no music but the howling of wolves."

okay so 1: Harsh, we all know it's because Sansa Stark, harpist and singer extraordinaire was up there til recently and you would have sounded like a drunk crow in a trash can next to her and your ego would not have taken that well. and 2: that would actually be really cool if the north had a style of singing that did emulate the howls of wolves like yodeling or that... i want to say Tibetan throat singing? (a quick google says it's largely Asiatic, (from several countries and cultures in Asia) but also found in Russia, Canada and South Africa.)

[allylikethecat]

💋 💌⌛️

YES THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for sending me something off of the works in progress emoji ask game!! If anyone else wants to send something the list can be found HERE if anyone else wants to send some or reblog for themselves! As always, I love ask games, and I love fanfic, and I love our little Tumblr community and am so grateful that people are willing to engage with me. Thank you!!

💋 - snippet of a wip of your choice

You're getting a snippet from All the King's Horses (I know probably not the one people want lol) but I am SO EXCITED about it and I also just realized today is Wednesday not Thursday which means I have to wait even longer to share it so I am sad. George cleared his throat. “Matthew and I are going to head out,” he said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.  Gabi looked up sharply, “Matty’s coming?” She asked, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth and George flushed. Polly had no doubt filled her in on their Cold War. “Yeah,” said George, “we’re still good to meet you at Jalapeño’s?”  “Yep,” said Gabi, “just waiting on Polly to finish giving meds.” “Cool, I think Ross and Waughty will be there first, they said they would get a table,” George said, hooking his backpack over his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon?”  “Sounds good,” said Gabi, flashing George a thumbs up with a glint in her eye. Matthew was standing by the entrance to the barn when George returned, wearing a pair of wayfarer style sunglasses and a well worn Kentucky Horse Park baseball cap tugged down over his curls. George swallowed a pang of disappointment, even sweaty and squished from wearing a helmet all day, George liked Matthew’s curls.  “Ready?” George asked and Matthew nodded, following him to the parking lot and climbing into the passenger seat of George’s truck.  George looked away as he did so, not wanting to get caught checking out his ass, admiring the way his navy blue breeches pulled tight as he hoisted himself into George’s lifted vehicle, the hop jump he had to do to get in only highlighting how small he was. George quickly banished the thought of how that meant Matthew would fit perfectly, tucked against his side.

💌 - how many wips do you have?

Too many 💀 Officially in progress being actively update (at least in The 1975 fandom I'm pretending the other fandoms don't exist at the moment) I have five: All the King's Horses Make Way for Ducklings You Know Where the City Is It's Christmas (So This Is Gonna Be a Nightmare) On a Friday In terms of ones that exist and are actively being worked on but aren't ready to be posted / haven't been posted yet I a have five more: Tennessee Stella McCartney (the Nashville™️ fic) Now Is the Hour (The teen dad fictional!matty fic) Vampire AU (we're still working on a name) The End of SATVB Sick Fic One shot (name also TBD) That super secret fourth thing that I keep joking about So apparently all in all that's TEN WIPS and i did not realize it was that many and now I'm stressed... (Less work has gone into them - but I also have the infection verse fics where Baby Gatty gets together and Fictional!Matty is readjusting to the public eye after the chapter eight events of the A&E fic but I'm not emotionally ready to admit that I have 12 WIPs lol)

⏳️- wip you're planning on doing next

That is a very good question! I whatever fic gets updated on Tuesday will be determined by the poll that I still don't have the results for yet (it ends soon if you haven't voted yet!). Once the Christmas Fic is finished I would like to start posting another one of my in progress WIPs, I'm just not sure which one yet. I also want to FINALLY hopefully get the SATVB sick fic finished - I'm just worried people are going to be disappointed because I have taken so long to finish it and I'm worried it's been over hyped

Thank you SO MUCH for sending me this ask oh my gosh!! I'm so excited about my various projects (even if I'm a little stressed I hadn't realized there were so many lol) and I hope you continue to enjoy my posts in the meantime! I hope you have a great rest of your day and a great week!

❤️Ally