#hello everyone say hello to my unrepentant bastard

[ask-thearchivists]

The Charmer: Hello darling family, I've managed to Collect some WONDERFUL specimens from this most recent mission. They were so enchanted by me they voluntarily gave themselves over. They'll make lovely additions to our-

The Charmer: Coordinator? Cartographer? Curator? Why have these mortals been removed from the Archive?

The Curator: It was The Coordinator's idea.

The Charmer: That was a quick accusation, do you have something to hide, Curator?

The Cartographer: It was The Coordinator's idea. She released them to study their behavior in abnormal conditions.

The Charmer: Mmhmm. Coordinator? Is this true?

The Coordinator: *sigh* Yes, it is, Charmer.

The Charmer: Hahahaha. Why.

The Coordinator: It's a question I've wondered about for thousands of years? How the mortals would react to awaking millennia in the future and seeing all of us again.

The Charmer: And the results?

The Coordinator: Mixed.

The Charmer: Excellent, now put them back.

The Coordinator: No. There's additional information I want to gather. Anyways, what’s your rush, I thought most of the mortals loved you?

The Charmer: It's not how things are supposed to be done.

The Coordinator: You've hardly let that stop you before, but let's put it to a vote. Those for, vote with stars, and those against, vote with moons.

The Charmer votes with a moon, while Curator, Cartographer, and Coordinator vote with stars.

The Coordinator: Wonderful. They stay. Have fun, Charmer, they love to ask us questions, and we haven't said much about you, so they're dying to know more.

[silkling]

Hello Silkling, Could you make a (TFP) Starscream and Knock Out meets (ROTF) Flatline? Because i like two medics

Certainly! Sorry this one is so short, I’m afraid I’m more unfamiliar with Flatline’s character since I didn’t read the comics he was in, and most of what I learned was off the wiki. I do hope I did him justice, though!

———————————————————————————————————

Suffice to say, when Knock Out came out of recharge that morning he was not expecting to meet another Decepticon medic. Let alone a Decepticon medic with extra limbs and a mouth that looked uncomfortably similar to mandibles. Yet, to his great disbelief, it was as he was cleaning his tools and taking inventory, Starscream perched on his medical berth and ranting about his all the ways in which he believed Megatron to be a fool, that the doors to his medbay opened and Lord Megatron himself stepped in. He was followed by a large, bulky mech that neither Knock Out nor Starscream recognized. The aforementioned Insecticon-lookalike of a medic.

“Knock Out.” the warlord greeted. His optics found Starscream, narrowing in displeasure. “Starscream.” he added, voice dark. “Allow me to introduce Flatline. He is a Deception medic, much like yourself, my dear doctor.” he hummed in the red mech’s direction. “He himself will explain his story. I don’t have the time.” he made a gesture, turning on heel to leave. “Starscream, see to it that your presence here does not mean you neglect your duties.” he said coldly, striding past Flatline.

The door slid shut behind him, leaving the three mechs alone together.

Knock Out scoffed. “Your paint job is horrid, you know.” he said with faux sweetness.

Starscream looked surprised at the blunt insult, then smirked and slid off the medical berth, propping an arm on the red medic’s shoulder. “Indeed.” he agreed in a mocking rasp. “I also can’t help but notice you look rather like someone tried to create an Insecticon and stopped halfway.”

Flatline growled at them both, optics flaring with his rage. “You are Starscream?” He sneered. “Rather unimpressive. The Starscream is my would is far more fearsome than some pathetic twig such as yourself.”

That gave the two others pause. “Your world?” Knock Out asked, mildly interested.

Flatline huffed. “I am not of this Dimension. In my world, the Decepticon forces on Earth are far less organized.” he scowled. “My world also had no “Knock Out”. Perhaps my version of you was too weak to survive the War.” His mandibles clicked. “I wonder what that says about you.”

Knock Out blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “I would say the same, Flatline. There is no mech with your designation in this plane of reality.”

Starscream looked highly entertained by the growing hostility. “How did you get to our world, then?”

Flatline hummed. “I was fleeing a group of Autobots when I encountered a wormhole.” he scowled. “I suspect the fact that my ship carried unknown Cybertronian artifacts, combined with the wormhole, stranded me here.”

Starscream smirked, amused. “What Autobots we’re chasing you then? Perhaps their counterparts live here and you can take your revenge.”

Flatline crossed his arms, all four of them. “Arcee, Chromia, and Elita-One.”

Knock Out whistled. “What did you do to get three femmes that mad at you, dear doctor?”

The mech hesitated, then snarled. “Under orders of Commander Thundercracker, I performed experiments to split one spark into multiple frames in hopes of creating a new type of elite warrior for the Decepticon cause.”

Starscream hummed as he turned that statement over in his mind, and then he smirked savagely. “I see.” he seemed giddy. “They were your experiments and you failed to have a way to control them. What a blunder, dear doctor!”

Kmock Out chuckled. “My my, does Lord Megatron know? I cannot see him trusting you with any task of importance if he knew how large a failure you made.” he mocked.

Flatline hissed. “I offered my services to create him elite warriors here, in this world. He seemed content with that, medic.”

Starscream snorted. “I’m afraid you won’t have much luck. The most expendable mechs here are Vehicon drones, and you can’t do much with them.”

The other medic simply clicked his mandibles. “No need to fear.” he scoffed. “I am more capable than that.” he hummed, looking over the pair in front of him. “You are very..,pointy, Knock Out. No one else on this ship is. It’s rather odd, I find.”

Knock Out scoffed, pushing Starscream away from himself and walking towards his tools. He had to take inventory. “I’m Velocitronian. I would expect to look different from those on this ship. They were all forged on Cybertron, after all.”

The medic froze, his mandibles clicking in excitement. “Velocitronian, you say? I have never had the chance to work with a mech from that colony. Perhaps you’d like to do the honor of being the first?” he asked, sickeningly sweet.

Knock Out lifted a hand, and without looking at the medic, transformed his servo into his saw, the blade buzzing to life aggressively. “I wouldn’t try it, Flatline.” he hummed. “I’m not quite that docile.”

Starscream hummed. “Yes, and experiments would absolutely ruin your finish, would they not?” he smirked, then wriggled his fingers. “As delightful as this has been, I must take my leave. I do have real duties to attend to, after all.” With that, he left, the door closing behind him and shutting the two medics together in the med bay.

For a while, neither of them made a sound. Knock Out transformed his servo back into a hand, then returned to the work he had been doing before. Flatline took the opportunity to explore, poking over the surfaces visible to him and taking in the available tools. As he made his explorations, he continued to edge closer and closer to the Aston Martin. Finally, when he was almost beside the red mech, he lashed out to attack.

Knock Out merely sidestepped, slipped his prod from his subspace, turned it up to one of its highest settings, and jabbed it harshly into Flatline’s neck cabling. The bug-like medic screeched, his frame locking and convulsing, and after a moment Knock Out removed the prod. Flatline dropped to the floor, limbs twitching as he gurgled.

The last thing he was aware of before his consciousness was stolen was Knock Out speaking to him in a dark, vicious tone.

“And that, dear doctor, why I advise you to stay far away from me. Unlike the soft little Autobots, I have no qualms about making your death a slow, painful, drawn out experience. Remember: I’m a medic. I know exactly what to do to your frame to make your life agony.”

———————————————————————————————————

And there is is! I’m not fully satisfied with this one, but I didn’t have many ideas for interaction between them other than “everyone is gonna be an unrepentant bastard”. I know this isn’t as long as some of my other ask box fics, but I hope you liked it regardless!

As for now, my box is open for anyone else who wants to send in a prompt! Check my pinned post for information, but I do accept most types of fic prompts. Until next time, friends!

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 2

Hello, and once again, welcome back to midnight Striga! Thanks for reading!

With a shout, Eda gripped the arm, slamming the attached body onto the ground. Looming over the hooded figure now gasping on the ground, Eda growled. “Now listen here you sneaky bastard, I don’t know who you are but you caaaaaaannnnnnn!?” She trailed off from her threat, shock rising as the hood fell back.

“Oh, hello, Edalyn!” The old woman cheered, flipping herself up and onto her feet. In a blink, she rushed in, pulling a frozen-stiff Eda into a bearhug. “I have so much news to tell you about!”

Luz blinked, eyes flicking between the two, before the features clicked. Eyes widening, she shot Eda a look. “So… this is your mom?” She asked, pointing at the woman.

Shaking herself back into the present, Eda groaned, lightly shoving the woman away. “Yes, unfortunately.” Giving a deep sigh, Eda turned to Luz, gesturing to the woman next to her. “Luz, meet my mother, Gwendolyn Clawthorne, and one of the single most recurring pains in my butt. Speaking of which,” She turned to Gwen, scowling, “What do you want, mom?”

Gwen gave a beaming grin, tilting her head in apparent thought. “Is it really such a shock that a mother would want to see her daughter?” She asked, neither aware of the way Luz tensed at her question. Both Gwen and Luz reeled back at the response she got, however.

“Yes.” Eda bit out, intense bitterness coating her voice. Standing firm, she put both hands on her hips, head tilted up in anger. “Everytime… EVERYTIME!! You’ve visited me since I’ve been living on my own, it’s been to try some cockamayme cure for my curse. And they. Never. Work!! So yeah, I’d say it’s reasonable to be a little skeptical.” She finished, panting slightly at the exertion of her outburst, lightly covering part of her wrist, and the feathers underneath.

Luz desperately held in the urge to shout at Eda for talking about the woman before her like that, but she could grudgingly admit to seeing where she was coming from. However, neither of them were fully prepared for Gwen’s reaction. Gwen gave a tired sigh, a sad smile forming across her features. “I do suppose I deserved that.” She chuckled, reaching up to Eda’s face, tracing a hand across her jaw, much to her daughter’s discomfort. “I promise, Edalyn, I just want to talk. That’s all. Please?”

Eda bit her lip, conflicted. On the one hand, she was sick and tired of being burned by her mother’s antics… and on the other hand, she was sick of her family being in pain, and was honestly wanting to have genuine quality time with her mother for once. Deciding to take the risk and just bite the bullet, Eda sighed, relenting. “Okay, fine! We can talk.” She said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Turning a raised eyebrow to Luz, Eda asked, “You want in on this, kid?”

Seeing the two witches giving her matching looks of inquisitiveness, Luz blinked, before rapidly shaking her head. “Oh no!” Pointing to Eda, she continued, “You need this a lot more than I do at the moment, and, if that brief back and forth was any indicator, the two of you have enough issues to work through WITHOUT me being thrown in.” She stated, stepping back, arms raised. Shooting Eda a brave smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll just make a day of it in town. I mean,” she shrugged, “I’ve kinda got to get used to people being suspicious of me in public all over again, why not start now?”

Coming to an agreement (“If you die, I’m selling all your stuff!” “Love ya too, Eda!), the group headed their separate ways, promising to catch up later. Gwen giddily dragged Eda along, who was personally torn between annoyance at the manhandling, and amusement at her mother’s amusement. “Yeesh, calm down, Gwen! You’re gonna rip my arm off!” Eda half-joked. Gwen’s yanks actually did have a real chance of removing her arms, but it’s not like that was a problem with her condition, really.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I’m just so excited!” Gwen squealed, a sheepish grin filling her face. “I just…” Her smile turned sad, “I just really wanted to see you.”

Eda gave her own sad laugh. “Don’t worry, I can understand the feeling.” Her mind flashed back to how she was after she and Raine split up, all the nights she wished they were back, wanting to see them. A thought came to her. “Hey, I just noticed… where’s Hawksley?” She asked.

Gwen gave her a mischievous wink. “Oh, he’s just looking after our other guest.”

Eda shot her a look of bafflement. “Other guest!? What are- oh no.” She groaned, as realization set in. Turning her gaze, she was in no way surprised to see Lilith, glumly slumped over a table before them, Hawksley perched on top of her head. What did shock Eda, however, was the bottle of Appleblood Lilith was chugging. Turning accusing eyes towards an unrepentant Gwen, Eda shouted. “SERIOUSLY!?”

Cheerfully whistling to herself, Luz strolled along, using the noise of her whistling to tune out the whispers and muttering all around her. It was honestly a neat trick, but she was well aware it wouldn’t work forever, especially if she ended somewhere more crowded. Scanning the area, Luz was disappointed, if unsurprised, by the sight of parents tucking their kids behind them as she moved past. It hurt. It was understandable, but it still hurt.

Sighing, Luz slipped into the shadows, rolling her eyes when the sounds of the main streetside picked up in volume at her ‘departure.’ Still, the sheer amount of gossip was entertaining, if only for the wild speculations and rantings of the more… colorful members of the local communities. Seriously, her? A shapeshifting giraffe seeking to supplant the Emperor through a false army of Abominations wrapped in Illusions? Pfft! She was gonna have to tell Eda that one, preferably when she was trying to drink something!

Laughing internally at the thought of an Owl Lady Spit Take, Luz tightened her movements against the wall. Her ears pricked at the sounds up ahead; it didn’t sound like the usual rampant paranoia. And if she focused enough, she was almost certain…

“Look, I know things are… really crazy right now.” Amity’s voice sounded out, confirming Luz’s suspicions. “But I honestly think this’ll be good for all of us. The Moonlight Conjuring is an important aspect of our culture, and is a funtime all around. If you all show up while it’s still daylight, nothing should go wrong.” Moonlight Conjuring? Hmm… something to talk with Eda about.

“B-But what if those Oroboros creeps attack again!? I can’t put my parents through that!” An unfamiliar voice questioned, concerned murmurs of agreement sounding in response.

Amity’s voice sighed. “I… I know it’s scary. The things I saw at the Covention, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget, not entirely.” Her voice took a melancholy note, before firming. “But in a way, that’s why we have to do this!” At the sounds of confusion, she continued. “That attack was supposed to make us afraid, to make us all panic. Something that it’s managed in spades all across the Isles. But for all that Oroboros is powerful, it’s an organization with a finite amount of resources. They can’t be everywhere at once, and no organization would commit precious resources to attack a party for school youths!” The nervousness died down, replaced with cautious contemplation. Luz gave a little smirk; Miss Blight apparently had a way with words, and some serious charisma if they were already changing their tune.

“I’ll go.” A familiar voice said. It took Luz a moment to place it; it was the voice of that girl who Boscha had burned! Her voice spoke up again. “If you can find someone to protect us, just in case, I’ll go.”

“W-Well, that’s fantastic!” Amity said, faux-excitedly. If Luz had to guess, her friend speaking up had caught her flat-footed, and she was trying to get things under control. “And I know just the person to do so! If you all show up before sundown, I promise, on the Blight name, you’ll all have an amazing time!” At that, all potential opposition crumbled, a chorus of agreements and cheers going up. As sounds of footsteps headed off, Luz peaked around the corner. She saw Amity, jerkily waving goodbye to her… friends? Acquaintances? Her face stretched into a plastic smile. 

Suddenly, Amity rammed her head against the wall, knocking her forehead against the stone repeatedly, frustrated grumbles coming forth. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Oh, I’ll find someone to guard us, everyone! Leave everything to Amity, everyone! I swear it on my family name!” She slapped her hand against her face. “Titan, what was I thinking!?”

“I don’t think you were.” Luz dryly noted, walking out from her pseudo-hiding place. Amity leapt back, startled. Luz noted how quickly she shifted into a ready position, one arm pulled back to cast, the other slightly pressed forward to defend herself, legs prepped to spring to either side and out of the way. She was honestly impressed, the girl had some athletic experience.

“Oh! It’s you!” Amity exclaimed, relaxing slightly, if not fully. “Luz, correct?” She said, more than asked, extending a hand for a shake. Smirking, Luz complied, giving the girl a firm grip, Amity’s eyes widening at the painless pressure. Schooling her features into a cordial smile, she grinned. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Really?” Luz asked, blinking rapidly. She had honestly not been expecting that. She cocked her head. “I kind of expected you to be some level of scared of me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, what you represent terrifies me.” Amity said frankly, the sheer honesty in her voice drawing a surprised snort out of Luz. “However,” Amity continued, her eyes focusing on Luz. “I gained a look into your measure during the Covention. You are wild, independant, and freely and liberally resort to violence even faster than Witches and Demons do. But you’re also loyal, caring, compassionate, and understanding, with a strong sense of duty. While I find you puzzling, your traits are those that I find commendable.”

“HA! Glad to hear.” Luz smirked. Her face shifted into a serious frown, contemplative. “You know, I overheard your little problem. So,” She grinned cheekily, “You need to find a bodyguard, eh?”

“Ugh! Please don’t use that phrase!” Amity near-pleaded, hiding her face in her hands. “My family has been going nuts over my safety. I am honestly lucky that they let me go into town without an armed guard of Abominations!”

Luz snorted, blinking at the mental image of Abominations skulking around Bonesburough, scanning for threats and hovering over an annoyed Amity. “Wow, over-protective, much?”

Amity exhaustedly nodded. “Yeah. My parents… aren’t the best, but they do care about me. Even if they care about our image more.” She said, muttering the last part spitefully. Shaking her head, she refocused on the original topic. “But yes, I need someone who’s willing to stand guard for me and those I plan on inviting to my Conjuring.”

“What about me?”

Amity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What about having me be your guard?” Luz elaborated, shrugging. “I’ve got combat experience, free time, and you won’t have to pay me!”

“That’s-!” Amity started, before pausing. She brought her fingers to her chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “That could actually work.”

“Really?” Luz asked, cocking her head. “The offer was serious, but I wasn’t actually expecting you to agree.”

Amity gave a grave smile, nodding. “Indeed, I’m willing to agree to this. If you don’t have any requirements?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

Luz paused, thinking. “If you could invite Willow and Gus, I’d really appreciate it.” She finally said.

“Done.” Amity said decisively, typing up the messages on her scroll. “That honestly works out rather well; ever since their actions at the Covention, their popularity has sky-rocketed and my friends have been wondering about meeting with them so this is an excellent opportunity. If that’s all, I will see you at my home before sunset; you can ask Willow and Augustus for directions.” WIth that said, she turned on her heel, marching off. Luz shook her head at Amity’s antics, before turning to leave herself. Neither noticed the group of individuals perched on a nearby building, the apparent leader’s eyes tracking Luz’s every movement.

“Of course,” Eda muttered, staring in resignation at the sight of her sister, chugging away on the table in front of her. Shooting an accusing stare towards Gwen, Eda moodily stomped over, plopping herself down from across her sister, glaring at her.

“EeeeDalyn?” Lilith blearily asked, words slurring slightly. She hiccuped, bottle awkwardly cradled in her hand, the other bracing her against the table. “Since when are you purple?” She muttered.

“Purple?” Eda said incredulously. She turned to Gwen, concerned. “Is it me, or is she…?”

“Absolutely wasted? No, it isn’t you, she really is.” Gwen noted dryly, casually yanking the bottle of Appleblood out of Lilith’s hands, ignoring her weak protests. “I dragged her out of her barracks, kicking and screaming. I believe a few of the Coven Guards who tried to stop me may be in need of Healing. Now, we are going to take the time to stop, think, and figure things out. As a family.” She said firmly, arms crossed.

The bitter snort came from Lilith, of all people, much to Eda and Gwen’s shock. “A-A family.” She chuckled, swaying lightly. “Is that what we are?” She laughed again, slapping the table. “And here I thought we were a bunch of strangers, pretending we CaReD about each other!!”

Gwen and Eda shared unsettled looks. Gwen hesitantly spoke up. “Now, Little Flea, I know I’ve been… distant, but-”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!!” Lilith shrieked, eyes wild, before calming down. “I-I haven’t been ‘Little Flea,’” She muttered derisively, “Since you abandoned me!” She accused, fist pounding against the table.

“Abandon!?” Eda exclaimed, confused and alarmed at her estranged sister’s behavior. “Sis, I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but how has Gwen abandoned you?”

Eda reeled back at the bitter anger in Lilith’s face. “She never came to my induction into the Coven, did you know that?” She said, “She never showed up for any of my promotions, any of my awards, anything!! She just, up and left!” Lilith laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “And here, I learned that she’s been visiting you for Years!! Trying to cure you!”

Gwen’s eyes grew misty. “I have made mistakes, and I apologize for that, Lilybug.” She said, reaching out towards Lilith, unconcerned when she slapped her hand away. “You were always so strong, so independent. I never meant to ignore you. I’m sorry if I hurt you because of it. But that’s why I dragged you both here!” She pleaded, glancing at the two of them. She wrung her hands in nervousness. “I just didn’t want to fail the two of you again. I know I can’t fix the pain between the two of you, and I don’t expect to. I just wanted to get you two together to hash out some ground rules, if that’s okay?” She explained, a hesitant note at the end

Eda and Lilith shared a glance, a moment of grudging understanding passing between them.

Eda turned to her mother first. “Okay, I guess we can do that. But if you’re serious about being in my life for real, I don’t want you coming around with crazy cures anymore.” Her voice took on a tender note. “If you’re gonna come over, I just want it to be so we can spend some time together, okay?”

“And I’d prefer you to visit me AT ALL!” Lilith shouted, some of the slurring fading from her voice. Eda was honestly surprised at how quickly she was recovering; a glance at her neck, and the Healing Glyph tagged onto it explained much; it was forcibly purging the Appleblood from her body, getting her back to normal. Eda winced; Lilith was going to feel like HELL when that thing wore off. “I want you to visit me, ask me about my day, take an interest in my Life!!” Tears pricked at Lilith’s eyes. “I want my mother back!” She pleaded.

Gwen turned a watery smile towards the two of them. “I think I can manage those requests.” She said, a pleased smile on her face. She grew serious. “Now then, If we are going to act like a family, as a whole that is, I am going to be doing my motherly duties, and establishing some rules for the two of you.” She stated, nodding even as her daughters groaned. She continued, ignoring their annoyance. “The rules are simple; Eda, you are to no-longer deliberately antagonize Lilith. If the two of you run into one another, you are to keep a civil attitude and in no way try to anger or upset her. Lilith, you are to cease your attitude in attempting to bring Edalyn in under the guise of being cured. If Edalyn is brought in, it is to be because she is a criminal and flouting the law, not out of an inane desire to cure her. Besides, I strongly doubt Belos would do so in the first place.” She finished, feeling a smug satisfaction at her daughters’ matching look of dumbfounded shock.

“B-But! He promised me!” Lilith said, whined really. “He gave me his word!!”

Eda groaned, even as Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Lilith, Belos’ regime is built on his Coven System, something Eda’s very existence stands in challenge to,” She said gently, “There are no circumstances in which he will EVER cure her. If you bring her in, he will have her thrown into the Conformatorium, and nothing more. He has all the leverage, and all the authority, and you have nothing that could compel him into curing her at your behest.”

Lilith shakily pulled herself to her feet, staggering off, a mumbled excuse echoing as she rapidly walked off, tears in her eyes. Gwen sighed. That had gone about as well as she’d been expecting.

Eda turned an impressed look towards Gwen. “Well dang, Mom! Didn’t know you were such a rebel!”

Gwen shot her daughter an unimpressed look. “I’m not.” She said primly.

Eda had a look of disbelief. “Really? Because you didn’t have a problem calling out Bonehead on his crap.” She said snarkily.

“That is because I am under no delusions as to his nature.” She said, “Belos’ rise to power and initial rule was tyrannical and cold, utterly without mercy. I, and many others, chose to join his burgeoning power because it was literally either him or complete chaos and anarchy. Not everyone can survive it as well as you, Edalyn.” She said archly, almost daring her to protest.

Eda opened her mouth to do just that, but paused, considering. Ultimately, she sighed, pushing herself away from the table. “Yeah, that’s true. I still hate him, and I always will, but I can get why people shacked up with him, even if I disagree with him on principle.” She grudgingly, painfully admitted. Giving her mother a level look. “This, as short, weird, and awkward as it’s been, was nice. I really hope you keep in touch for real, okay?” She said softly, before walking away.

Gwen just smiled, tears of relief and sadness filling her eyes. It wasn’t much… but it was a start.

[carmenlire]

Chocolate Chip Pancakes

So, it’s day one of flufftober and I’m really going to try to post something every day for the month! I hope yall like this:)

Prompt: Breakfast

read on ao3

Hungover and pissed off with it, Magnus grumbles at the tinkling of the bell overhead as he opens the door to his favorite diner. It’s mid morning and Ragnor had woken him up less than an hour ago by pouring a glass of ice water over his head.

When he’d jolted upright, sputtering and disoriented, Ragnor had given him his best blank look.

“I’m hungry and it’s your turn to buy pancakes,” he’d said, as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Magnus had glared daggers at the back of his head but after flopping back down onto his bed, he’d reluctantly rolled out and stumbled to the bathroom. He’d gotten ready in record time, throwing on a university hoodie and pair of leggings, shoving his feet into a pair of tennis shoes and he’d followed as Ragnor had led them from their dorm to the corner diner across from campus.

It was open twenty four hours a day and catered to college students who lived on greasy burgers and somehow unhealthy salads. It had the best hangover breakfast Magnus had ever eaten and it was tradition to hit it up after a night out.

Magnus and Ragnor are the last ones to the table. Cat and Raphael are already at their regular booth in the back, pouring over the menu as though they don’t come here three times a week.

Ragnor sits next to Raphael, leaving Magnus to take the space next to Catarina. He doesn’t open his menu, just lays his head on crossed forearms and focuses on his breathing.

Fuck, he must’ve drank tequila last night. That’s the only liquor that ever leaves him so miserable the next day.

“I’m dying,” Magnus declares, voice muffled as he’s still resting against the table. He lets out a pathetic whimper for effect. Cat absently reaches over and pats him on the shoulder.

“With how much you drank last night, I’m surprised Ragnor was even able to wake you. Raphael and I were taking bets on whether or not you’d show this morning.”

Magnus looks up and sees Raphael staring at him dispassionately. “Do you know you recite limericks when you’re particularly wasted,” he asks. “I know you’re a lit major, but that’s too much even for you, Bane.”

Glaring, Magnus replies, “It’s not my fault that I have a superior intellect even when I’m blacked out. You should be so lucky.”

“Boys, boys,” Ragnor’s voice breaks through as he turns the page of his menu to the burger section. “It’s too early for this and I left out the best part of Magnus’s hungover morning.”

Cat looks intrigue as she leans towards him, resting her chin in a hand. “Do tell.”

Settling back in his seat, Ragnor gives Magnus a once over. “Magnus has admitted that he’s blacked out and you know what that means.” The three of them share a look that Magnus has seen a few too many times.

Oh, God.

“What did I do,” he asks the table, resigned to hear about last night’s exploits. That was part of the reason these breakfasts were tradition. It wasn’t just that the campus diner had greasy bacon and pancakes that could soak up remnants of alcohol like the most effective hangover cure. They had all been where Magnus is sitting now, listening in dread as the others told of the previous night’s exploits.

Admittedly, Magnus is in the hot seat a little more than the others.

“Between shot eleven and thirteen, you entered your dancing phase. Christ, we couldn’t get you off the dance floor--”

That damned bell above the door chimes as it opens and Magnus doesn’t hear whatever gap Raphael was going to fill in his murky memory from last night. Instead, he looks over at the door and his heart trips, his breath stutters, as the most stunning man Magnus has ever seen walks in, accompanied by a few other people.

He’s tall, classically handsome and adorably rumpled. He’s wearing a ragged rugby sweatshirt and sweatpants that hit just under the knee with those athletic sandals the jocks tend to favor. He looks sleepy yet hot enough to burn, with that stubble darkening a delicious jaw line.

Hangover forgotten, Magnus barely registers that he speaks aloud as he murmurs, “Who are you?”

He doesn’t give his friends a chance to ask questions as he rises to his feet. Adonis and Co. have just been seated when Magnus sidles up to their table.

“Hello,” he says, pleased when his voice doesn’t betray just how ghastly he was feeling just moments ago. “Who might you be, darling? I don’t believe that we’ve been formally introduced.”

The man looks up at him, startled at the sudden stranger, before the other two table mates look up and raise incredulous eyebrows.

Magnus ignores them, instead focusing on the god sitting in front of him. Magnus barely resists the urge to lick his lips. Who knew that Columbia was hiding such goods around campus?

He’s delighted as heat climbs up the man’s neck but he’s impressed when his voice is smooth and achingly dry. “I’m Alec,” he says, holding out a hand.

Magnus raises a brow at the tone. He makes it sound like Magnus should just know who he is. Inwardly, Magnus sighs. Please don’t let Alec be an insufferable bastard.

“Alec,” Magnus repeats, taking his hand. It’s a piss poor excuse for a handshake. Instead, Magnus just holds his hand, feeling callouses against his palm. He represses a shiver. “I’m Magnus.” He says, smiling invitingly.

“I know,” Alec says. He looks at Magnus, the bare edgings of a smirk curling his lips.

“Oh? You’ve caught me at a disadvantage, darling.” Magnus’s gaze darts between gorgeous hazel eyes and full lips and he’s insanely curious. He tries desperately to remember any time that they may have ran into each other but he's coming up infuriatingly blank. What does Alec know that he doesn’t?

His attention is even more rattled when he feels Alec’s thumb start sweeping along his thumb. Slow strokes that set every nerve ending firing.

“You told me tequila was your worst drink,” Alec says. “But that didn’t stop you from dancing with me until Pandemonium closed.”

Magnus’s breath catches. Damn him, one of these days he might just have to listen to his friends before checking out.

“We’ve met? Yesterday,” Magnus hesitantly offers, thinking of his damned hangover that was a direct result of too many shots of Jose Cuervo Silver.

“Last night-- Or, rather this morning,” Alec confirms.

“I can’t remember anything from last night,” Magnus admits.

Alec’s smile is easier, warmer, as he laughs. “I figured. Your friends-- Raggy?-- had to take you home when you refused to leave without another shot. You promised to call,” Alec murmurs slyly and Magnus closes his eyes.

He can just imagine what he said to Alec last night. He only called Ragnor by that abhorrent moniker when he was absolutely shitfaced. He hopes fervently that he didn't make an ass out of himself. Luckily, Alec doesn't look like he's yearning for an exit so Magnus stays put.

“Well, what luck of fate that we both decided to get breakfast here,” Magnus says brightly. He steps back as Alec moves out of the booth.

Magnus is tall but Alec is a goddamn giraffe it seems and Magnus has to tilt his head up, just a little, to meet his eyes.

Alec turns so that his breakfast companions can only see his back before murmuring, “And if you told me that you always get breakfast here after a night out?”

Magnus swallows, stepping closer to Alec. “You were hoping to run into me?”

Alec grins, biting his lip and successfully distracting Magnus for a second before he starts to speak again. “I mean, yeah. It’s not every guy that can dance like you do while simultaneously reciting medieval French limericks in the native language.”

“You know French?” Magnus takes a chance and runs a finger down Alec’s chest before resting his hand against his side. Alec doesn’t move away from the touch. Instead, Magnus swears he hears Alec’s breath catch.

“I particularly enjoyed the one about ham,” Alec says, devilishly smiling.

Magnus closes his eyes and lets his head fall to Alec’s shoulder. He groans. “Oh, God, that’s one of the worst ones,” he says plaintively.

“It certainly left an impression,” Alec replies.

Magnus lifts his head and stares at Alec for a moment. Alec returns his look with one of his own. The air feels charged and everything else falls away. It’s a dreadfully busy campus diner. There isn’t a spare seat in the house, the chatter is a dull roar and there’s constant shuffling and clanging of utensils.

Magnus doesn’t hear any of it. His attention is caught on Alec-- his smile, the warmth in his eyes that shouldn’t be there for a mere stranger, the way his blush hasn’t quite died down even after several minutes of conversation.

He takes a minute and something settles in his chest. He takes a breath.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast, darling? I promise I’m sober,” he teases. He refuses to acknowledge just how much he’s hanging onto Alec’s answer.

He doesn’t leave Magnus waiting.

“Yes,” Alec says simply. “I’m a little hungover and they have the best pancakes in the city.”

“Chocolate chip,” Magnus adds, agreeing.

Alec’s face lights up. “Chocolate chip,” he repeats softly.

Alec doesn’t let go of Magnus’s hand as they nab a small table by the door just as the waitress finishes clearing it. Magnus catches Catarina’s eye and shrugs. Everyone turns and mockingly glares at him but he just grins and waves back, unrepentant.

There was no way he was throwing away this chance.

The two of them stay at the diner until the sun starts to sink low in the sky. Hours have passed. Both of their respective tables had left ages ago with obnoxious goodbyes and Alec and Magnus have just been sitting at the table by the window, talking.

They talk about classes and Alec’s position as captain of the rugby team and Magnus’s role as editor of the school newspaper.

They talk about their travels and obscure French novels and hypothetical scenarios.

They hold hands more often than they don’t and share knowing smiles when one of them nudges the other with a foot.

It’s the best breakfast Magnus can remember having. He knows there’ll be hell to pay when he gets back to his dorm but he doesn’t care.

He can’t, not when he knows with everything he is that his life’s just changed irrevocably. He has a delightful, bubbling feeling that it's for the better.

[blindchandelure]

No Rest For The Wicked: A Thiefshipping Oneshot

So, all the way back in winter 2017, I signed up for @sitabethel‘s Thiefshipping Dirty Santa fanfiction-writing event. And then I promptly forgot about the whole thing, until today, when they reminded me about it. -_- I’m dumb as hell. So, it’s months late, but here’s the fic I wrote for the event!

The prompt I was given was “I’ll let you know all my flaws now, so you could love me better or leave me quicker.” 

The flash of white, amongst all the dark hair and skin of the people of Cairo, caught Marik's eye immediately. 

It was strange to be back in Egypt, after all the time he'd spent travelling the world with Rishid as the leader of the Ghouls. Running from the past, he admitted to himself. That was over now - after the tumultous events in Domino City, Japan, he'd resolved his grudge against the Pharoah, and accepted his role as a Tombkeeper. The Pharaoh - and his vessel, Mutou, should be coming to Egypt soon, Marik considered.  Ishizu foretells that the Ceremonial Duel will soon occur. 

After the Pharoah moved on to the afterlife, what would become of the Ishtars? Marik's clan had been waiting to assist the Pharoah in his journey for thousands of years. Once his destiny was fulfilled - then what? Where did that leave them?

It leaves us to lead normal lives, finally, Rishid had said, earlier today. He seemed to be looking forward to it. Marik wasn't so sure. It wasn't easy to spend years despising a man and plotting to kill him, committing acts of thievery and violence at the head of a criminal gang, and then turn around and be....normal. 

Marik was walking through a quaint open air market - the same one he'd stumbled through as a child, on his first day on the surface world. He still remembered how strange but beautiful it had felt, to feel the sun on his face and the sand under his feet, to see and hear so many people, when he was used to only seeing his family, and the darkness of the tomb. Now a grown man, he had seen many sights more splendid than this. But, his eyes still misted when he thought of how Ishizu had snuck him out, that first time. 

She was always a good sister, he thought to himself. And how did I repay her? By running away, and threatening to do her harm if she pursued me. I have much to atone for. 

He had done harm to young Yugi Mutou's friends, as well. He had kidnapped them, and seized control of their minds. They would surely accompany the Pharoah when he came to Egypt to fulfill his destiny. He could not blame them if they looked at him with eyes of hate. 

He was thinking of all he'd done while in Japan....the games he had played, the  people he had hurt, and the one man, that he had loved. And then suddenly he was there.

That long, white hair. The clearly Japanese features of his host, when everyone else in the crowd was Middle Eastern or African. That beaten up black coat that he always wore. 

"Bakura!" Marik cried, and tore off running, after the man. They'd been allies in Battle City, plotting together to defeat the Pharaoh. At first, Bakura had clearly only coveted Marik's Millennium Rod. But as time went on, their relationship had become....more than that. And on the blimp where the tournament finals were held, in the darkness of Marik's room, before the final battle had commenced, they had become lovers. 

A night so passionate.....Marik refused to believe that it had meant nothing to the Spirit of the Ring. But after that, everything had changed. Marik had discovered that the Pharaoh did not kill his father, as Shaadi had led him to believe. His father's blood was instead on his own hands, and he'd created a whole other personality to conceal that truth from himself. The shock of this revelation had sent Marik reeling. He had done his Tombkeeper duty, and shown the Pharaoh the markings on his back. But, after that, he had returned to Egypt with his siblings, deeply uncertain of his future. 

But, one thing he was certain of: he still yearned for Yami Bakura. His co-conspirator, his equal in dueling, the best lay of his life. What was he doing here?

"Bakura, slown down!" Marik cried, catching up to the pale haired man, and seizing him by the wrist. The Spirit turned to him, and smirked.

"Hello, Marik. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Why have you come here?" Marik demanded. 

"I think, deep down, you know," Bakura said, his red eyes staring into Marik's violet ones. 

For a second, Marik thought, to be with me, but he knew that was wishful thinking. "The Pharaoh is coming to Egypt soon," Marik realized. "You've come here to kill him." 

"You may have abandoned your plot against the Pharaoh," Bakura nodded, "but my goals remain the same as they were the day you met me." 

"To get revenge," Marik guessed. "In Battle City, that was what we both wanted. But, you never really explained to me, what it was that you sought vengeance for. What did the Pharaoh do to you?" 

Bakura wrenched his wrist from Marik's grip, and backed away from him. "I have been carrying this grudge for three thousand years," he confessed. "I won't let some teenage boy who suddenly wants  to be a goody two shoes stand in my way." 

"I didn't say that I was going to stop you," Marik muttered. Perhaps they should be discussing this elsewhere, away from prying eyes. 

"Does that mean," Bakura asked, his lip beginning to curl upwards, "that you're going to help me? I thought you'd switched sides." 

"I'm on my own side," Marik insisted. "I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do, because I'm not sure what you're plotting, or what your reasons are. I want to hear your explanation, before I do anything."

Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Besides," Marik admitted, "if I said I was going to try and stop you, you would probably kill me." 

"I would hate to have to kill you," Bakura chuckled. "I am rather fond of you, after all." Marik blushed, in spite of himself. "Can we go somewhere more quiet, so we can talk this over?" 

"I think I know just the place," Bakura said, and began walking off into the distance, towards the desert. "Follow me." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% They wandered past the outskirts of the city, towards the Pyramids, and the tombs where Marik had grown up. They traversed over sandy dunes in umcomfortable silence for what seemed like hours. 

"Where are we going?" Marik asked finally. "Are you sure you're not lost?"

"I was born here, just like you," Bakura reminded. "A very long time ago." 

"In the days when the Pharaoh, and the first owner of my Rod, walked the earth," Marik nodded. 

"He was a right bastard," Bakura huffed.

"Who?" Marik blinked. "Set, the Pharoah's high priest," Bakura explained.

"That was the original Rod wielder's name?" Marik blinked. 

"Didn't your clan teach you the Millennium Items' history?" Bakura questioned.

"I was always a poor student," Marik confessed. He'd rather be running through the torch lit hallways with Rishid, playing games. Father always scolded him for neglecting his studies. 

"What exactly did they tell you, about where the Items came from?" Bakura demanded, a strange look on his face. 

"The Pharaoh and his priests wielded the Millennium Items to protect the kingdom," Marik recalled from his lessons. 

"Protect it from whom?" Bakura questioned. 

"From evildoers," Marik shrugged. "Father always said he would tell me the whole story when I came of age. But he.....met his end when I was still a child." 

"The enemy the Millennium Item holders were fighting against," Bakura confessed, "was me." 

Marik stopped in his tracks, almost slamming into Bakura, who was walking in front of him. It tripped him out, truthfully, that the man who had ridden on the back of his motorcycle, kissed him on an airship, played cutting edge holographic card games with him, was a three thousand year old spirit, who had lived and died while the Pyramids were still being built. 

"I killed them," Bakura continued, his tone cold and unrepentant. "I was responsible for the death of Karim, who wielded the Millennium Scales, and Shada, who wielded the Millennium Key. And, of course, Mahad, the original owner of this Ring." He looked down at the glittering gold of the Millennium Item around his neck. 

"The Tombkeepers watched over the Scales and the Key all my life," Marik recalled. He didn't like to think about his childhood this much. "The Ring....I remember we had it in our possession, when I was young. One day, Father was spitting with rage. He said some treasure hunter - a foreigner - had stolen it." 

"My host's father," Bakura nodded. "Bakura Rokuro." 

Marik was not sure it had truly hit him, until this moment, that the face and body before his eyes, which he had kissed and touched not so long ago, did not really belong to the spirit he was speaking to. His real body must be buried, mummified, under these sands somewhere. 

"Bakura is not even your real name," Marik realized. "But the name of your host."  

"Yes, Bakura Ryou is simply my vessel," the Spirit of the Ring nodded. "When all this is over...he will wake up confused. He won't know where he is, or who you are. Try to ensure that he makes it back to Domino City in one piece." 

"Does that mean that 'when all this is over'....you won't be coming back?" Marik frowned. 

"Once my thirst for revenge has been slaked, at last," Bakura replied, "my spirit will be at peace, and then, I suppose I can rest."

"In the afterlife?" Marik guessed. 

"Where else would a ghost go?" Bakura chuckled. 

"Aren't you worried what will happen when your heart is weighed against the feather of Ma'at?" Marik worried. "Don't you fear judgement for your sins?"

"Do you fear judgement for yours?" Bakura asked. The question pierced Marik like a knife. 

"I can't judge you for your crimes," Marik sighed. "In Battle City....I wouldn't have cared if Katsuya had drowned, or that safe had fallen on Mazaki and crushed her. Or if Pandora's legs had been sliced off by that saw. Or if Hikari no Kamen and Yami no Kamen had fallen off that building to their deaths....."

"Thankfully," Bakura chuckled, "the Pharaoh helped all your foolish pawns escape with their lives." 

"What did the Pharaoh do to you?" Marik asked again. "I've realized...I don't anything about you at all. Bakura isn't even your real name. What did they call you, in your mortal life?" 

"Most knew me as the Thief King," the Spirit of the Ring revealed.

"That's not a name," Marik pointed out. "That's a title." 

"My true name doesn't matter," Bakura shrugged. "I will not exist in this modern world much longer anyway, after my plan is complete."

"What are you planning?" Marik demanded, his voice raising. "Why did you come back to me, just to leave me again?" 

"I want you to know the truth about who I was," Bakura explained. "There is no soul left in this world who remembers the Thief King. The Pharaoh is the only person I once knew who still walk this earth - and he has no memory of who I am, or why I despise him. When he regains his memories, his time on this plane will end. They say you only live as long as people remember you. And you, Marik Ishtar, are perhaps the only person on Earth who will remember me with fondness." 

"I'll miss you," Marik admitted. "I was hoping you and I could be together again." 

"I wish that could be," Bakura said, his voice full of passion as he looked into Marik's eyes. "I wish I could be your lover, like I was before." He leaned in close, and his lips touched Marik's. Desire coursed through the Tombkeeper's body, and soon his hands were in the Spirit's long hair, pulling him closer, desperate.

Reluctantly, Bakura pulled away. "But, this cannot be," he sighed. "I do not belong in the land of the living. My spirit lingers here for one purpose - my vengeance." 

Marik understood this. He had desired vengeance against the Pharaoh for many years, and that  misguided goal had driven all of his actions. Now, he felt adrift, without the mission that had motivated him for so long. 

"You wielded the power of the Millennium Rod, when you sought your vengeance," Bakura recalled. "But, do you know where the power of the Millennium Items comes from?" 

"Dark magic," Marik guessed.

"The darkest kind," Bakura agreed. "The kind that comes from the most evil and heinous of rituals." 

Marik blinked in the bright desert sun, confused. He and his clan had been watching over the Millennium Items for centuries, waiting for the Pharaoh's return. But, in all his studies, he was never taught how the Items had been created. 

"Human sacrifice," Bakura revealed, staring down at the Ring around his neck. "The blood and bones and souls of an entire village were melted down with the gold, imbuing them with cursed power." 

Marik gasped, horrified. He realized then where Bakura had brought him. They were standing on the ruins of an ancient city. Broken columns and shells of buildings, half-buried in the sand, were all that remained of the once-populous village. 

"This is all that's left of Kul Elna," Bakura explained, gesturing at the remnants. They looked like an archeological site. "The village that was massacred by the Pharaoh to create the Millennium Items. My village."

Marik's hand went to his mouth. He had endured horrors in his lifetime - hieroglyphics carved painfully into his unwilling back. An evil alter ego arising from the trauma of patricide. Horrible things - but none quite as horrible as witnessing a genocide. 

"I'm so sorry, Thief King," he said, putting an arm around his lover.

Bakura backed away from his touch. "I don't need your shoulder to cry on," he laughed. "I only need the Pharoah's suffering and death, as retribution for the suffering and death of my family." 

Marik's eyes widened, unsure of what to say. He, too, had once wished "suffering and death" upon the Pharaoh. But, now he regretted his actions. 

"I am not some victim, who deserves your sympathy," Bakura confessed. "I am a thief, and a stealer of souls. I killed the masters of the Ring, Key, and Scales, and I felt no remorse. I am responsible for the death of Isis, as well, who wielded the Millennium Necklace. Her soul seems to have returned in this century, as your sister. No wonder she despises me." 

"Why are you tellling me this?" Marik asked, feeling uneasy.

"I'm letting you know all my flaws now," Bakura explained, "so you could love me better, or leave me quicker."

"You want my love?" Marik said, confused. "I thought you only wanted your revenge." 

"I want to be with you, one last time, before my soul rests," Bakura said, looking desperately into Marik's eyes. "One more night in your beautiful arms, before I condemn myself to Hell. Is that too much to ask?" 

Marik reddened. He wanted this man, that much was true. He'd yearned for another taste of his touch since he left Domino City. And yet....

"But you're on the side of the angels now," Bakura chuckled. "Or at least, men who think they are angels. They assume that theirs is the just side. You and your family promised to help them, right? The Pharaoh, and his vessel, Yugi Mutou, and his friends." 

"Yes," Marik admitted. "When they come to Egypt, Ishizu and I are supposed to help them restore the Pharaoh's name and memories, and commence the Ceremonial Duel."

"When they come to Egypt," Bakura said plainly, "I am going to play a Shadow Game with the Pharaoh, and I am going to make him pay. I will be doing my best to prevent him from recovering his name - the task you say you plan to help him with. And I do not care whatsoever if the Pharaoh's friends - who now seem to consider you their ally  - are caught in the crossfire." 

"Why reveal your plan to me?" Marik asked. "Why not lie?"

"I want to know if you will leave me, knowing what kind of  man I am," Bakura confided. "I want to know if you will try and stop me. Will you warn young Mutou-san that I'm after his so-called yami? Will you try and protect the Pharaoh, who, as a Tombkeeper, you're sworn to serve?" 

"I don't hate the Pharaoh anymore," Marik said, uncertainly. "But, I do still love you, even knowing your true nature. I cannot stop my heart from loving you, or my body from wanting you, regardless of the flaws you confess to me. I will not 'leave you quicker'. I want to stay with you until the end." 

"You can stay with me all night long," Bakura whispered seductively. "One last, blissful night- but, come morning, the Pharaoh's plane will arrive in Cairo, and I will do what I have waited to do for three millennia."

"I won't stop you," Marik decided. "I will send the Pharoah to the place he is destined to go, fulfilling my role as a Tombkeeper. Once he gets there.....whether he wins your game, or you do....that is up to the Gods." 

"You wielded the power of the Gods once," Bakura recalled.

"Yes," Marik sighed. "But, I have long since surrendered my Winged Dragon of Ra to the Pharaoh."

"He will use it against me in our duel," Bakura predicted. "You have made my coming battle much harder to win." 

"My other self used Ra to defeat you in Battle City," Marik remembered. 

"Well, that's your other self," Bakura shrugged. "I carry a grudge against him, not you." "He's gone now," Marik said seriously. "For good this time." 

"I wanted you to regain control of your body," Bakura confessed. "Not simply because I wanted your Millennium Rod, but because I wanted what was best for you."

"You tried to help me win control of myself back," Marik nodded. "I will always be grateful to you for that, Thief King." 

"I have spent millennia haunting this Ring, waiting for my final faceoff with the Pharaoh," Bakura said thoughtfully. "And tomorrow, I will have it. But, I never expected that I would find someone who I cared for. It is, at last, my time to settle the score, and  leave this plane - but I wish I did not have to leave you, Marik.”

"I won't leave you until I have to," Marik promised. "I'll give you my love, and I'll give you tonight, and I won't regret it." 

"Even though, when morning light comes, I'll set off to kill your king?" 

"I wish you could stay," Marik sighed. "I wish you could be mine forever. But, perhaps, when I die, our souls will be reunited, on the other side of the Du'at."

"Then may Osiris have mercy on our wicked souls," Bakura laughed, and kissed Marik again. For now, his soul still resided in Bakura Ryou's body - and that body would know no sleep tonight.

[syrupwit]

Letter for Trick or Treat Exchange 2021

-

Hello there, and welcome to my letter for Trick or Treat Exchange 2021! I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to read this letter. I hope that it will provide you with clarification, inspiration, or whatever else you may happen to be seeking from it.

Although I’ve written more for some sections and less for others, rest assured I would be thrilled to receive a gift for any of the requested fandoms, characters, or fanwork types. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out through the mods.

I have requested Fic Only, Tricks and Treats for all canons.

Please see the table of contents below:

Likes

Do Not Want (DNW)

Fandom - Dishonored

Fandom - Fallout: New Vegas

Fandom - The Magnus Archives

Fandom - Stellar Firma

Fandom - What We Do In The Shadows (TV)

-

LIKES

I have a very long list of likes here.

For Treats, some general things I like are:

Absurd, silly, or situation-based humor

Surreality, weirdness, crack treated seriously

Lore and worldbuilding

Unusual team-ups

Dramatic rescues

Get togethers and first times

Halloween tropes and trappings that tend more towards the fun or cheesy (pumpkins, candy, trick-or-treating, costume parties, bad horror movies, haunted houses, autumn weather, friendly supernatural creatures, black cats having a good time)

For Tricks, some general things I like are:

Dark comedy, gallows humor, horror-comedy

Psychological, paranormal, gothic, and cosmic horror

Creepy lore and worldbuilding

Unreliable narrators

Corruption

Hurt no comfort (esp. emotionally)

Supernatural creatures and goings-on of all kinds

-

DO NOT WANT (DNW)

Characters depicted as under age 18 involved in sexual situations

Characters having sex without mutual sexual attraction

Hate speech or hate crimes (discussions/mentions of bigotry are fine)

Harm to pet animals (the existence of ghost pets is OK, and it’s fine to mention pet animals that have canonically died, but I don’t want to hear about injury, abuse, or noncanonical death of pet animals)

Bestiality

Scat

Necrophilia (sexual activity involving ghosts or sentient skeletons/undead is OK, just not inanimate corpses or remains)

Sexual activity involving worms / spiders / insects

-

FANDOM - DISHONORED

Ivan Jacobi's Grandfather

This character is so inconsequential that he only shows up for a few sentences in an in-universe memoir in Death of the Outsider, but the little glimpse we get is fascinating. Tell me more about this stubborn old man who moved into the family crypt and let his impressionable grandson sleep over among the skeletons. I want to hear his ancestor stories, the creepier the better.

Kirin Jindosh

My favorite antagonist from DH2! I'd love to hear more about his abominable creations, his alliance with Delilah, and what he got up in his brief studies at the Academy of Natural Philosophy. I ship him pretty hard with Emily, but I'm open to any pairing. (Note: I'm fine with mentioning or exploring his canon nonlethal fate, though I'd prefer it not be played for comedy.)

Billie Lurk

Of the Dishonored protagonists, Billie is my favorite. Someone, I can't find the source, once described her character arc as "atonement without redemption" -- I really like that. Death of the Outsider highlighted a intriguingly cocky streak of hers I hadn't noticed before, also (the things she says about the bank job!!).

I'd love to hear more about her years as a ship captain, the connections she built across the isles; her early years with Daud and the Whalers, how those relationships changed; and anything post-canon. Gen-wise, I really enjoy her interactions with Daud, Sokolov, and the Outsider, and I'd like to see how she didn't get along with Galia Fleet.

Ship-wise, I like her with Daud or any female character. Seriously -- Billie/Teresia Cienfuegos! Billie/Thalia Timsh! Billie/the surviving witch in the basement jail in that one mission of Death of the Outsider! Ooh, what about Billie/ghost!Deirdre? I am, as they say, just spitballing here. I also like Emily/Billie, Delilah/Billie, and Billie/Lizzy, for some less rare pairings. :-)

-

FANDOM - FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

Dean Domino

Vengeful petty bastard. He was my favorite of the three companions in Dead Money, and the reveal at the end blindsided me. I really liked the atmosphere and story in Dead Money -- I'd love more about Dean Domino's pre-ghoul days, how he survived, and what it takes to sustain a grudge for centuries.

Mr. House

Everything about Mr. House and the Lucky 38 is fascinating to me. I'd love something about the years he spent waiting and planning, or the dynamic between him and a more evil or chaotic Courier.

Doctor Mobius

Old World Blues is my favorite DLC for this game, and I loved the showdown/reveal with Doctor Mobius! More roboscorpions, more ridiculous schemes, or interactions with the Courier and the other Big MT scientists and denizens would be great.

Stealth Suit Mk II

Why is the suit cute, and why won't she/it stop trying to give me Med-X? I'd love to hear more about this adorable sneaky suit and her/its relationship to her/its wearer. If you want to go to a shippy place there, please feel more than free.

Ulysses

So dramatic, so tragic, so vague at times. I really, really like his relationship with the Courier and the way it develops in Lonesome Road -- I ship them romantically, one-sided on Ulysses's part and reciprocated, but I also like their many possible dynamics as gen. (I have no preference on gender or alignment for the Courier -- feel free to write the character however you prefer.)

Ulysses strikes me as very lonely, and he seems to be finally feeling grief that he suppressed. I'd love something where the Courier rescues or comforts him, or where the possibility of being rescued/comforted occurs to him but is never actualized (PAIN). Alternately, interactions between Ulysses and any random character, the more unexpected the better, would be great, as would Ulysses solo gen about what he gets up to post-DLC.

Yes Man

My favorite amoral AI! His passive-aggression is hilarious, but I love that he's also genuinely scary. I'd enjoy hearing more about his origins and development, his dynamic with Benny, and his relationship with the Courier and anyone else he might encounter.

-

FANDOM - THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

Adelard Dekker

Dekker is cool! I like that he's pragmatic and competent, not without a sense of humor, and somehow genuinely religious even in the world of TMA. I ship him with Gertrude, but I also enjoy them as friends. I'd love anything about his pre-canon adventures, origins, relationship with the Web, or interactions with unexpected characters.

Harriet Fairchild

An incredibly minor character (she shows up for a few lines in MAG 21, "Freefall"), but I'm so curious about her. What is her relationship to Simon Fairchild, and how did she become associated with the Vast?

Neil Lagorio

In-universe fictional media is one of my very favorite things, and I loved the episodes with Neil Lagorio. I'd enjoy hearing more about his filmography, strange experiences on his sets, criticism of his films, popular reception, or anything along those lines.

Peter Lukas

An unrepentant monster, and a terrible boss, but awkward and petty in enjoyably human ways. I would love to see how he interacts in a fish-out-of-water scenario, a meeting with other avatars, or a situation where he feels threatened. Seeing him interact with Gertrude would be fantastic. I ship him romantically with Martin, one-sided on Peter's part or grudgingly reciprocated, but I also really enjoy their gen interactions.

Original Statement Giver(s)

I'm always down for original statement fic, whether it's about an encounter with a specific entity or something more ambiguous. <3

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FANDOM - STELLAR FIRMA

Bathin

We've heard so much about Bathin, but what is he really like, outside that one recording? I ship him with David and/or Trexel, but I'd also like to just hear about him.

Enola

Post-canon, what do they get up to aboard The Terpsichore's Vaunt? Vent gremlin to captain of a Star Puncher Class vessel must be a bit of a leap.

David 7

Poor David has been through so much. I'd love something about them post-canon, figuring out the wider universe beyond Stellar Firma, or a canon divergence AU from any point. Additionally, I think it could be fun to explore common fic tropes with them -- coffeeshop AU part 2, fake dating (which is also their first time doing anything dating-like?), arranged marriage because *handwave*, time travel or time loops.

I ship David with Bathin and/or Trexel, and with Trexel and Hartro in a triad, although I'm open to other pairings. Platonically, I like them with I.M.O.G.E.N., or meeting anyone outside the station.

With regard to David's gender and pronouns, I don't have a strong preference or headcanon -- please feel free to go with your favored interpretation.

Trexel Geistman

Trexel is my favorite. I enjoy the childish, silly side of his terrible self, but I also love it when canon decides to take his issues seriously. Please let him bumble around like a jackass making poor decisions, projecting onto those around him, and occasionally providing his own brand of "help" or insight.

I ship Trexel with just about everyone, but particularly David 7, Hartro, and/or Bathin. I really enjoy him as the pining party in a ship, whether his pining is one-sided or reciprocated. In general, though, I just really like Trexel.

For Halloween-related prompts, I'd love something with him as a horror host a la the Cryptkeeper, or maybe something with him encountering the ghosts of the Board or one of his more illustrious ancestors. Less Halloween-related, a Groundhog Day time loop AU with Trexel as the POV character could also be fun.

Hartro Piltz

Hartro is also my favorite. She's... god, she's ridiculous. I love her interest in the arts and her taste for Drama. I was really pleased with her transition from antagonist, to semi-frenemy, to antagonist again, and finally to tentative ally.

Ship-wise: I ship her super hard with Trexel and David as a triad and Trexel as a pairing, although I also love the three of them as a gen group. We haven't seen Hartro interact with a lot of other characters in canon; there are no other canon dynamics that ping me as particularly shippy, that "yum" from IMOGEN and the bit of flirting with Sigmund Shankeray notwithstanding. However, I am open to any pairing or gen interaction for her, including OCs. Seriously, please go for it! I just really like Hartro.

Promptwise: The last bit of bonus content, "No Love For Spies," involved impromptu scripted roleplay with Hartro, David, and Trexel. I'd love a scenario like that, but maybe shippy or awkwardly sexy (well, more awkwardly sexy than it already is, with evening-gown!Hartro lounging around on tables). I'd also enjoy something set pre-canon, something about her life outside of work during canon, or post-canon exploring how she gets along in a post-Stellar Firma universe.

Also, I realized I forgot to say so, but I opt into the foot thing. Lol.

-

FANDOM - WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (TV)

Guillermo de la Cruz

I recently watched this series for the first time, and Guillermo is far and away my favorite. The way he compartmentalizes what he's been doing for the vampires, the repression, the hints of manipulativeness, and then the fact that he's just really cute -- he's great. I'm enjoying the slayer!Guillermo storyline and the sort of power reversal, or power redistribution, that's come about because of it.

I ship Guillermo/Nandor pretty hard, one-sided and reciprocated, but I'd also love Guillermo solo gen, friendship fic, or ensemble fic. For a Treat, canon-typical slice of life would be great, or something about what he gets up to on Halloween. For a Trick, perhaps he encounters a hostile vampire or other creature, defends or rescues the others, or himself needs to be rescued? Guillermo gets yanked around and disappointed so much in canon; I'd love something where, no matter what trials he is subjected to, the vampires come through for him in the end.

[thekuroiookami]

KnB (Kagami x Reader): Butterfly on my right shoulder - Part 1

For not the first time that day, Kagami wondered how he got himself into these things.

Oh wait, I know. It was Kise that got me into this.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself upright with a grunt of effort. A slight adjustment had him careening to the left. He windmilled his arms, trying to keep from falling painfully.

Kise, that smarmy bastard, was tutting as if this wasn’t all his fault. “Kagamicchi, I expected more from you. Your sense of balance is terrible.”

Moriyama, equally smug, started sprinkling salt into his wounds. “That’s right. What’s the point of growing up in America if you can’t skate?” He skated a few lazy circles around Kagami to rub it in.

“For the last time,” Kagami growled, “I grew up in L.A. Los Angeles. There isn’t exactly a pile of snow to wade around in.”

Moriyama wouldn’t let it go. “But surely you had ice rinks like this one? I mean, it isn’t winter here either.”

Kagami had to admit he had a point. The red-head chose not to exacerbate the situation by giving Moriyama more fodder, and instead concentrated on unfolding himself. On the bright side, Kasamatsu was as bad or possibly even worse off. Kaijo’s ex-captain was clenching on to a rail with a death grip, knuckles white.

Moriyama gave Kasamatsu a hearty thump on the back that almost sent his feet out from under him.

“Moriyama, you idiot, are you trying to kill me?” Kasamatsu’s voice came out even raspier than Kagami’s.

“My dear Yukio-chan, you will never get a girl like this. It’s a good thing the rink is almost empty, or I would be hiding from second-hand embarrassment.”

Kagami tottered to a standing position and looked around, surveying the area. Aside from a couple of kids, who seemed to be leaving, there was no one on the rink. He was silently congratulating himself on not having anyone witness his humiliation when a girl, about his age and dressed in black, glided out onto the ice. She gave them all a brief glance and then proceeded to ignore them, settling a pair of headphones over her hair.

Moriyama was instantly on alert. “It’s girl. A CUTE GIRL. This is the perfect opportunity to demonstrate my masculine appeal and flirt with her. Kise, come with me!”

A bewildered Kise attempted to resist. “But why do I have to get involved in your business, senpai?”

“Because you’re pretty and she will be much more susceptible to my charm with you blinding her.”

The girl in question was totally oblivious, moving in a smooth serpentine figure across the length of the rink. It brought her closer to where they were standing near the edge, and Kagami saw that Moriyama’s assessment was correct. She had a pretty, sharp face, set in concentration.

Kise continued to refuse to participate in Moriyama’s absurd plan. “I don’t want to, Moriyama-senpai. It sounds troublesome.”

The senior would not be deterred. He grabbed Kise’s arm to pull him forward. “Come now, Kise. Listen to your elders.”

Kagami saw a series of disastrous events happen in slow motion. Kise tugged his arm back, sending an unprepared Moriyama off balance. He toppled over, crashing into Kasamatsu, whose already precarious stance was instantly destroyed. Kasamatsu flailed, grabbing the not-very stable Kagami for support. Unfortunately, Kagami had been standing with his back to him, so this just made him wobblier than before and he pitched forward. His last thought as the ice came hurtling up to meet his face was that he’d never trust Kise again.

What he didn’t expect was the fall to be so…pillowy? He opened one eye, propping himself up with a hand and looked up to see a pair of cobalt blue eyes. He blinked in fascination, caught in the crystalline depths of the girl’s irises.

You, however, were not amused. The boy you had caught from falling was about half a foot taller than you, and a lot heavier. You just wanted his deadweight off.

“Say, this might be comfortable for you, but honestly I could do without this experience.” Your voice was flat.

“I…err…what?”

Kise hissed at him. “Kagamicchi, get off of her! You’re in a really embarrassing position!”

He looked down and flew back like a scalded cat. Kagami’s face sizzled, almost electric in its redness.

WAS MY FACE JUST RESTING IN HER CHEST?

He stuttered, burning in the awkwardness of the situation. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…your chest was soft…I mean, I didn’t realize…I’M VERY SORRY!”

You were hardly paying attention, now that you were free of the cage that had been his body. Though you had to admit his arms, in the brief contact you had with them, had been intriguingly muscled. You suspected you could break wood on his biceps.

I wonder what he does that he’s got muscle tone like that but no sense of balance.

You slid your eyes in his direction, brushing off your clothes. He froze, waiting for the inevitable crackdown.

“Be more careful next time. It’s difficult to skate if there’s blood on the ice.” With that, you sailed away, already stepping back into the routine to set up for your jump.

Kagami watched, stunned, as you smoothly skated backward, twisted and jumped with a leg outstretched and landed in a dizzyingly fast sit spin. Kasamatsu’s voice came from behind, awed.

“That’s…amazing. It looks really dangerous.” Before Kagami could agree, Moriyama cut in.

“More importantly, let’s talk about how Kagami conveniently fell face forward on to that young lady’s chest. I’ve never even been that close to a girl, much less her…softer parts. Tell me, Kagami, how did it feel?”

All three of them stared the ace with unblinking intensity, waiting for a response.

Kagami went back to the shade of his hair again. “WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THESE QUESTIONS? Besides, whose fault is it that I ended up doing that, anyway?!”

The culprit was unrepentant. “Kagami, you have no game.”

Kise and Kasamatsu’s face took on dubious casts. “Look at who’s talking. You’re in college and you still haven’t found anyone to put up with you, Moriyama.”

He waved it away. “Anyway, Kagami, I think you should get that young lady’s number. I think she likes you.”

The duo of sceptical faces turned into a trio as Kagami turned to Moriyama with a flabbergasted look.  

Kise finally showed a modicum of sense and intervened. “I think we should just go for lunch now. Kasamatsu-senpai, lead the way.”

As Kagami followed them off the ice, he cast one last look at you, gliding across the rink, and became a little wistful.

I wish I had asked for her name.

XXX

Two weeks later, Kagami had his wish granted. In a manner of speaking. Looking back on it, he supposed he had Aomine of all people to thank for it.

Kagami growled in frustration as Aomine ducked past him, yet again, and moved into a graceful layup, the movements fluid. The second boy sauntered back, grinning, not even bothering to watch the ball fall into the net.

“5-3. My win. Again.” Aomine took a swig out of his bottle to emphasize the sentence.

“Tch. I can’t believe you became even faster than before. Was that really necessary?” Kagami wiped his face with his wristband, trying to catch his breath.

“Should have thought about that before you and Tetsu decided to bulldoze everyone at the Winter Cup. Made us all fired up. What did you think was going to happen?”

Deciding not to delve to deeply into it in case he discovered Aomine actually had a point (and what a horrifying thought that was), he shook it off and looked at the tanned figure.

“Shall we go at it one last round and call it quits?”

“Still haven’t had enough punishment? Fine then, I’ll take you on.” He sunk into a defensive position as Kagami began dribbling the ball.

Kagami decided to try something new and moved to the left, speeding up. Aomine kept up easily, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward to snatch the ball. Kagami abruptly gave the ball a sharp push downwards. Aomine was startled as the ball bounced off under him, coming up behind him in time for Kagami to dunk it into the net. The red-head landed with a victorious thud.

“Ha. Take that for punishment, Ahomine.”

The person in question had wide eyes. “What in the world was that?”

“Something I worked out with Kasamatsu-san. Though it doesn’t always work, because most players are shorter than me.”

Aomine looked down in horror. “You mean I could have permanently been disfigured?! Bakagami, were you trying to kill me, or does it just come naturally to you?”

Kagami opened his mouth to retort when he had a crawling sensation up his neck, like he was being watched. He whipped his head around to find the girl from the rink watching him with her hypnotic blue eyes. He dropped the ball in shock.

You slipped the headphones from your ears when recognition dawned. “It’s the clumsy oak tree from before. Yo.”

“You’re…I mean…um…hello? It’s nice to m-meet you!” His ears had gone red, and he was making frantic gestures.

You slid your eyes to Aomine, who was watching the whole interaction with interest and took him in.

Hmm, this one’s physique isn’t bad either. Are they still playing one-on-one? They were here when I went by half an hour ago.

You moved to put your headphones back in. “Do continue. Didn’t mean to interrupt your game. See you around.”

A hand on your wrist stilled you. You looked up to find, once again, Kagami’s sturdy form looming over you. He tugged your hand up gently. “What happened to your hand? Are you injured?”

His long fingers were rough and calloused, easily wrapping over your wrist. A bloom of warmth spread out from his touch. You replied, still sounding bored. “Nope, it’s just a sprain. I fell, it happens.”

He sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me it’s from that day…”

You were vaguely fascinated by how his face had gone from gruff concern to abject sadness, so it took you a second to catch up. “Huh? Oh. No, this was another fall.”

Kagami had some practice with emotionally unreadable personalities (i.e. Kuroko) so even he didn’t fail to notice the way your face darkened. It was subtle, but still present. He suddenly felt the need to pick you up and press you to him.

He dropped your hand like it was on fire and backed away.

What was I thinking just now?! And since when did I just go around grabbing people?

Aomine decided enough was enough. “Oi, Bakagami. Either we finish this game or you flirt somewhere else. Don’t waste my time.”

Kagami’s already strung out nerves felt like they’d been put through the dryer. “W-what are you talking about? Shut up, Ahomine! Who said anything about f-flirting?”

You watched them go at it for a bit, face expressionless. Eventually, when you could tell no progress would be made, you spoke up.

“Is it alright if I stay and watch you guys play?”

They both stopped mid-argument and turned their heads to you. You thought their coordinated robotics were rather fascinating.

“What?” Aomine sounded annoyed. Well, more than before.

“You still have one game left, yeah? If it doesn’t bother you, I’m going to watch from over there. Whenever you guys are done bickering like five-year olds, that is.”

They both had the grace to look chastened. Kagami ruffled his hair nervously. “If…if you want to.”

You nodded and settled yourself on the bench, crossing one knee over the other. Kagami swallowed his self-consciousness and turned back to find a gleefully vengeful Aomine.

“You’re going down, Bakagami.”

In the end, it was a very close match, but Aomine won again. Somewhere along the way, he’d gotten so absorbed in the game that he’d forgotten you were there. So Kagami flinched in surprise when your voice floated out to him.

“That was really impressive. Do you guys play for your school teams?”

He looked up from his prone position on the ground to see you leaning against the base of the net. Your expression had finally shifted from indifference to one of interest. His heart skipped a beat.

Aomine mumbled from his similarly horizontal posture. “We’re the aces. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Not at all. Which school is it?”

Kagami belatedly realized introductions had never been made. “I’m Kagami Taiga, second-year ace for Seirin High. That moron over there is Aomine Daiki, second-year ace for Touou Academy.”

There was a pause as you took this in. “I see. I didn’t realize it was you two. That’s interesting. I suppose it’s my turn then. I’m ____, third-year in Komae High. Nice to meet you.”

Kagami sat up, surprised. “Y-you’re older than me? Ma’am!” You blinked, unconcerned.

Aomine lifted an eyebrow in interest. “Is that the girls-only school famous for their cute sailor uniforms?”

You nodded. “That’s the one. Oh, before I forget, here.” You held out ice-creams to the both of them.

“I was on my way back from the konbini. Take those and cool off.”

Aomine accepted his without any hesitation and bit into the popsicle with a sound of joy. “Man, that feels good. Thanks.”

Kagami, still reeling from the revelation that you were a whole year older than him, was slower. He jolted as his fingers brushed yours, sending electricity up his arm. You seemed unaffected, biting down into the popsicle with a hum. He had to turn his head away to hide his blush.

Do not think about her lips and the ice-cream. Do not. DO NOT.

He cleared his throat to distract himself. “So, um, what club are you in, ____-san?”

You released the lolly with a pop to speak. He gripped his own ice-cream harder. “None at the moment, I guess.”

Aomine sucked back the last bits of ice and inspected the wooden stick. “I guess? Wouldn’t you know if you were in a club or not?”

You seemed to curl up into yourself at the question. Kagami mentally cursed Aomine’s bluntness. He was curious too, but he didn’t want to torture the reply out of you.

Your voice was subdued when you spoke. “I did have something I liked to do until recently, but I’ve stopped. So for now, I don’t have a club. It’s probably for the best. I should focus on my exams this year.”

You clearly didn’t want to broach this subject any longer, so Kagami said the first thing that came to mind. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Two pairs of blue eyes widened at this. Kagami realized all the implications of the statement and backpedalled.

“I mean, like, as thanks! Not a date. Or anything romantic. To thank you for the ice-cream and as an apology for knocking you over that time. It can be lunch or something. I’m a decent cook, I swear.”

Aomine seemed to have recovered from his initial shock and was now finding the whole thing hilarious. “It’s true. He might have no brains, but he can cook like he does.”

Your lips had tilted up in vague amusement. “I suppose I should take advantage then. I have high expectations of you, Kagami-kun.”

Kagami had to work hard to supress the riot of feelings that your words caused. He couldn’t believe that he’d get to meet you again. On purpose.

And she called me Kagami-kun…

He snapped back to reality to hear, Aomine Daiki, of all people, giving him dating advice. “Bakagami, you should probably exchange numbers now.”

“Eh?”

“If you want to take her out for dinner. Or do I need to pound it into your thick skull for you to get it?” Aomine’s voice managed to be low and frustrated at the same time.

“Ah. C-could I have your number please?” His heart pounded as you looked up from your bag.

“Yeah, sure. Just give me a second. I’ll give you my phone so you can give me yours too.”

Kagami gulped as you handed him your absurdly delicate looking, snow white cell phone. It looked so fragile in his hands.

I’m really doing this. I’m giving a girl my number. So we can meet up again. Coach would be proud of me.

When he was done, you snapped your phone shut and swept your gaze over him. “I’ll call you, Kagami-kun. It was fun meeting both of you. I’ll see you later then.”

He managed a coherent reply. “Okay, see you around, ____-san.” He turned to leave before he could mess this up any further.

“Oh, and Kagami-kun.” Your words stopped him midway. He turned to look over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

You gave him a heart-stopping smile, full of secrets and laughter. “I wouldn’t mind if it were a date.”

Kagami barely heard anything Aomine said on the way home, his brain was too busy falling apart.

[notanicequeen-blog]

Greetings, And Controversy

I think it'd be best to just start by saying, "Hello." I'm Elsa, and I am not an ice queen. I'm a 24 year old freelance writer--primarily ghostwriting--and if that didn't clue you in, I enjoy writing. In various different forms, really. Original fiction, text-based role-playing, fanfiction, I write all of them whenever it strikes my fancy.

And I also enjoy writing about…well, writing. That's what the point of all this is. In my adventures to write what I'm paid to write and to get my brain to calm down long enough to write what I'm not being paid to write, I like to take time out and jot down my observations on the writing process and everything around it. No matter how tenuous the connection sometimes is.

A lot of these blog entries were posted on a different blog a few years back, but they've been re-written and I'm re-posting them here, on a platform that doesn't require me to jump through quite as many hoops to stay ~*~relevant.~*~

That's all the introductory stuff out of the way, so I guess now it's time to move onto the meat of this baby. To kick things off, let's look at a…slightly controversial topic among a lot of writers.

I'm going to talk about Mary Sues, because why shouldn't I? It's the first entry and it sounds like fun.

Is there anyone here who doesn't know what a Mary Sue is? I'm going to assume you've all at least heard the term, but let's get into a bit more detail than just that.

Despite the name, a Mary Sue doesn't have to be a female, though for males the term is frequently changed to Gary Stu, Gary Sue, Marty Stu, you get the point. Cute, isn't it? However! Because of the hoops female characters need to jump through to be considered good characters, people tend to fixate more on Mary Sues than they do on Gary Stus.

Assuming they aren't just using it as a catch-all term to describe a character they don't like, a lot of people bastardize the definition to 'a character that is overly perfect,' but that's not quite right. A closer definition would be more along the lines of 'a character whose existence bends the world so that everything centers around them.' Like I said, gender doesn't particularly matter, but people are more likely to flip the table and scream, "That's so unrealistic!" about female characters doing this.

(As for where the term actually came from, I regret to inform you that it did not just fall out of the aether to give all of us nerds some shared terminology. Instead, allow me to direct you towards the Star Trek fandom. A satirical fanfiction--a very old fanfiction--was poking fun at the concept with a teenage ship captain named Mary Sue.)

Unfortunately for anyone looking to identify a Sue out in the wild, there is no one set of traits or characteristics that makes up a Mary Sue. There are some made of sweetness, rainbows, and turtledove shit, and they fix all conflicts just by walking into a room. There are some who are completely unrepentant jerks to everyone around them (especially a love interest) and they chew everyone out for the slightest mistake, but of course everyone loves them for their spunk and their ~*~attitude.~*~ Or maybe they're miserable and every tragedy in the world finds them, and the entire population is divided evenly into people who want to hurt them or protect them (have you read Oliver Twist? then you know what I'm talking about).

They can be everyday people, famous people, warriors of distant lands, beautiful but tragic broken birds, or anything else you can think of, so long as the world revolves around them in a way that strains suspension of disbelief.

But why are Mary Sues problematic?

…You wanna know a secret? It's a doozy. You might not be able to take it.

You see, they aren't problematic. Or at least not always. While it's true that some writers are going to start pulling their pigtails and throwing a tanty at the mere mention of a Mary Sue, in reality everything has a place. If someone is truly writing just because it's what they want to write, then you're free to simply not read it and no one is any the worse for wear.

As with many things, it also depends on the audience and the type of writing.

For instance, let's look at original fiction. Here, it depends entirely upon the audience. Sometimes it can just be nice to feel like the world revolves around you for a change. Oh, sure, that's not everyone's cup of tea, but if someone doesn't want that sort of story, I would like to know when it became their business to tell other people what they should or shouldn't like to read.

In fanfiction, the line is a little clearer. More often than not, a Mary Sue in a fanfic is an original character that the author has made up and injected into the world of the story, and the lives of the characters from the source material revolve around the author's original character. In general, that's frowned upon. People are free to write it, and more power to them, but most people who seek out fanfiction are looking for the characters of the source material, not a new character they've never heard of and thus are not pre-invested in. (Especially in cases where the source characters wind up warped and twisted out of their original shape so they can accommodate the new character.)

However! I can think of fanfic right off the top of my head where the source material's main character was written as a raging Gary Stu, but the writing itself and the characterization were brilliant and I loved the fic. So it would be disingenuous to say there's no ambiguity here. 

(Besides, if the author is having fun, then there’s no harm coming out of it anyway.)

There is one situation, though, where there is very little ambiguity, and that is role-playing. For those that don't know what it is (or those who are perpetually stuck in the gutter), I'm talking about a collaborative story telling game (my preferred form is text-based, but there are various types). Each person has a character (or several) and they're in charge of the thoughts, words, and actions only for the characters that belong to them.

In a role-playing game, Mary Sues are very frequently obnoxious. Because the game is collaborative, most players want to get their own time in the spotlight. Everyone wants to feel important to the story. What this means is that one player constantly trying to make the story focus around their character is going to be incredibly annoying, whether it comes in the form of constantly fixing everyone's problems, constantly being dumped on by the world, or something else. Odds are the player of a Mary Sue is either going to get a stern talking to or kicked out of the group, because no role-player wants every conflict solved immediately or for their own character's drama to be stolen or overshadowed.

However, I did say very little ambiguity, not no ambiguity. Because you know what can be fun sometimes? Complete and utter over the top, self-indulgent bullshittery where every character is equally as ludicrously special and amazing. Where nothing makes sense, nothing is remotely plausible, ‘down to earth’ is a foreign phrase, and everything is explosions, be they literal or metaphorical. Because when you get down to it, it’s about having fun. (Side note: you should all go look up The Ballad of Edgardo.)

But what about me? What do I, personally, think of Mary Sues?

Frankly, I tend to prefer more realistic characters, but I'm not going to pretend I've never read and enjoyed stories about Mary Sues. It's fun to be the center of the universe now and then.

Beyond that, I think they're a phase that every writer goes through. I certainly did. If you're a writer and you're reading this, you did, too. Every writer wants their characters to be awesome, and it can take time to refine your personal definition of awesome. Criticism and advice are fine--maybe even encouraged, depending on the writer--but being a jerk about it just makes you a hypocrite. After all, you've done it, too.