#i DO want to try to finish some of the older wips rather than continuously starting new ones but

[smallblueandloud]

i have enough fics posted now that i find myself going through my ao3 and rereading my things for fun!! :D forget my actual numbers goal, this feels like the win condition, honestly

[hornwolff]

Part of me : A Christian Horner/Toto Wolff one on the NSFW prompt generator : "It's okay we can go as slow as you want"

This got my absolute interests, because them and slow is an oxymoron in the making 😄

Okay this one is really really short because I started it like a week ago and then put it in hold because I have too much wip to finish first but here's a little snippet and if you want more I'll detail how the story should go later 😊

It has been six months. Six months ago Toto took his courage in his hands. Pushing past the fear of getting rejected to confess. He knew that there was a high chance he was going to be rejected and then mocked. He was confessing falling in love with him. Of course he should expect it. But as he braced himself for the worst scenario he didn't take into account other scenarios. Just like the one he fell in.

He has responded. And the feelings were mutuals. Toto felt a relief he never felt before wash over him and shyly asked if it was okay for him to kiss him. When he felt thoses lips on his he felt like his heart was bursting. Almost leaving his chest and the dreamy look he had made him chuckle. 

- Just a kiss from me and you're already like that Wolff? What will happen when we do more?

- Anything and everything liebling.

The smile that he got in return was worth it. They had to stay hidden for the sake of their team. But that added a shiver of danger to the whole affair. Six months in and they didn't do more than kiss and share some hugs. It was enough for Toto. Like he really was but, he was human. And soon he felt his desire grow. He took it into consideration when one day he felt hard has if he was back at being a teenager. That, that was a first and he didn't wanted to startled him. After all, from what he told him Toto was his first male relationship. And if the attraction was there, there is no way to deny it, the confidence wasn't.

So he take the opportunity of the winter break to treat him with romantic diner nights, dates and showing his affection and love to him. The thing is he is so afraid that his lover is going to refuse any form of physical touch going further than a kiss.

What Toto isn't aware of, too focused on being the perfect boyfriend for him, is that Christian is very curious. He had done his research about male & male relationship (basically watching porn and going online on forums about straight men wanting to try anal sex). But he was still warry of it. He can't deny that Toto was an attractive man. Really he is attractive and such a handsome man that Christian still wonders how does he got lucky that Toto loves him.

The fact is he isn't confident in his own body. Oh sure he is past the point of complex and people's opinions on him. Because he is successful, his team is successful and he couldn't give a damn about some anonym comment online. But that doesn't mean he is confident about his apparence in bed.

With his past relationship with women, that wasn't really an issue because those incredible women weren't with him for his looks but rather his personality. There was still an attraction it wouldn't have worked otherwise. But he knows it wasn't his look that charmed them. 

Now getting older getting close to his fifties, he is much more self aware about this aspect of him. After all, he saw enough people thirsting after Toto, to know that his boyfriend is attractive. And in comparison he feels really average. Thus why he still don't want to go further with Toto. And also because he is scared. He once got a glance at Toto's morninghood and oh boy that was enough to made him wonder if they one day get more intimate, if that would ever work.

That's all I've got for now. I'll continue it after I've finish with the kinkmeme ones I have to 😅 but here you go 💜

[magnus-sm-writes]

February Wrap-Up!

It’s the shortest month of the year, and it’s time for the monthly wrap-up (which I haven’t done in some time). One of my main goals this year is consistency. Expect more monthly wrap-ups!

February is my third favorite month (March > October > February, I have opinions on the months), and it’s been the month where I’ve decided to attempt to get my life in order. This has everything to do with attempting to not get stuck in my seasonal depression hole and attempting to make myself more comfortable following my biannual neurodivergent meltdown (realizing the world isn’t made for me and freaking out about it). The world is difficult to live in if your brain isn’t built correctly for it.

Anyways, I’m quite pleased with how this month has gone for me.

Let’s move on to the neatly-organized categories!

Writing journal

I made an Instagram post about this, but I ended up with two bullet journals, so I use one for work and one for… work. Writing, that is. The work that I don’t get paid for but still love. (Yes, I love my full-time job, too, but it’s more of a side piece to me.)

My writing journal has been essential for keeping me consistent and accountable. (Except for the eleven days I forgot my journal was in the living room. ADHD for the win.)

But when it comes to my goals, I would say I reached more this month than I did in January.

My layout for February was super simplistic and based on the bare-bones functionality of my work journal. It’s not pretty to look at. I changed that in my March layout, so please bear with me.

The goals I reached this month were:

Continue re-writing a novel

Keep word count & submission journal

Make monthly wrap-up

Write in a café

I read three books: Teaching my Mother to Give Birth by Warsan Shire (twice), Magic for Beginners by Kelly Link, and In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Macahdo. I loved all of them. In fact, I resonated so deeply with In the Dream House that I actually purchased it.

The next page is just a couple short stories I was working on: “Communion” & “The Boy & the Hag Stone”. I did not finish “Hag Stone”. In fact, I didn’t finish a single short story this month.

My “words written” page is prettier, but still incredibly functional. Then my “poetry written” page. Overall, a very simple layout.

My writing journal is crucial to keeping me on schedule. If you are riddled with neurodivergence like me, the advice is true: keeping track of what I do has actually helped me stay with my goals and get some major work done.

Word Count

I’m rather happy with my word count this month! I’ve recorded writing 27,748 words, though I did forget to record my word count for about 11 days, as I accidentally lost track of my writing journal (as mentioned above).

What have I been writing?

In early February, I wrote 12 poems. That’s fantastic, in terms of poetry-writing. I wrote a little bit of Greenest and some stuff for OC Kiss Week, but a great chunk of my word count comes from my Hamish rewrite. It seems like I only want to write Hamish in the more wintry months, as February seems to be the month I’m most inspired to write it.

If you don’t know about Hamish, I encourage you to visit my WIP post about it. Basically, it’s a modern interpretation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. In short: it’s a gothic horror told in first person referral (I to you).

It’s an older work, compared to what I’m currently writing. A relic from the days where I believed that I could only write contemporary literary fiction instead of what I tend to write now (fantasy, horror, & sci-fi). However, I can now add my own spin to what was originally a work grounded in reality. (That is, make it more like a gothic horror novel.)

I’m hoping to make an update post about it, since I’ve doubled my typical 10,000 word goal. I’ve been pretty busy with trying to meet all my goals as of late, and posting has taken the back burner as opposed to attempting to overcome my seasonal depression.

(Maybe writing Hamish isn’t the healthiest option, but the vibes are there.)

I am a little burnt out at the moment when it comes to Hamish. I’m in what I call the “27k slump”, which is where I get demotivated at around 27,000 words in a project. The end of Act I tends to be difficult for me. This problem results in sagging middle, which is an issue I struggle with in a lot of my novels. I’m still trying to find a way to circumvent this.

In March, I hope to play with some sci-fi!

Publications

I don’t have any publications to show for February, but I did get my novelette Body rejected by a publisher, so I’m proud of myself for putting myself out there.

Looking forward!

(Hopefully I’ll remember to take a picture of my journal layout for March. If not, check out my Instagram for some updates. Gotta self-promote as much as possible in this wild west that is the writernet.)

My March layout is more complex than the February one, which is an upside of a bullet journal format. I can modify it whenever I need to.

My biggest goals in March are:

Finish 1 short story

Go to the library 2 times

Write in a café 2 times

Maintain submission & word count journals

Read 10 pages a day

Finish 2 audiobooks

Submit 2 stories for publication

I think these goals are me realistically pushing myself. I probably won’t reach all of these goals, but that’s okay. The point is to foster good habits instead of reaching perfection.

On the lower corner of my “big goals” page is a “best poems” section, where I will write down my favorite poems of the month. Like a monthly playlist of poems. I’m hoping I’ll use this a bit this month, but if not, it’s no sweat.

Then it’s my “books read”, “stories written”, and “want to read” page. My “want to read” section is a lot of books that James Clear recommended, because I’m on a self-help kick right now and I like reading his articles. I’ve also got some general books I want to read this year or month. Since it’s Women’s History Month, I want to include some more female authors.

My “books read” and “stories written” section for February were far larger than they needed to be last month, so I made them smaller for March.

Next is my “words written” and “poems written” page, which I will definitely be using the most. I’m attempting to write every day and note it. It’s easier to write a poem than a short story or novel, so I made the section just a little bigger. Mostly, this is a word count tracker.

The next page is blank. I think I might do a tracker or brain dump page, or both. I’m constantly brainstorming ideas, so having something with me all the time is essential.

Personal Life

As some of y’all might know, my birthday is in March! I am doing a Golden Birthday Bonanza, where I do a little retrospective on my eleven years of writing with the intent to publish. Let me know if you have anything you’d like to hear about during my week of birthday fun. Q&A is officially open!

[daybreak-tkler]

Hiya, sweets!

Sorry that I haven't uploaded in a little bit but I'm afraid I have some bad news... I don't think I'll be finishing or taking requests for the forseeable future. I appreciate that all of you love my works and you want to send me idea prompts,, but honestly I'm sort of debating on whether I want to continue writing tickle fics or not. I do love writing them /gen but I do think that actually my writing style has changed a lot since I first started my new era of fantasy writing. I want to move forward and produce works that I am happy with rather than trying to copy a style that no longer suits what I like. I'm getting older and my preferences are shifting and the way I view tickling is also shifting.

So I'm sort of debating what to do here, do I continue writing fics like I have been in my newer, more elegant, more mature and intimate style? Do I shorten my ideas into prompts and time stamps? Do I stop entirely? I honestly don't know and because interractions are so low on tumblr, I'm not sure that anybody here is willing to give me such advice. I could move my works to a seperate ao3 account, i suppose. I'm just at a little bit of a loss right now, and I think a small hiatus until I figure out what to do with this account and my branding on tumblr is in order.

So until further notice, I will not be posting any tickle fics - and if I do they will be wips that I've had in my notes for a while now as well as my own ideas. Thank you for supporting me thus far and I apologize deeply if my work and my account morphs into something different than you wanted it to be. I hope that everybody who still interracts with me will still support me no matter what it is I choose to do. ♡

~ sincerely, Atlas/AJ

[magicwhiskers29]

Thanking @theriveroflight for the tag!

Rules: Find 5 words and post snippets from your WIP that contain them.

My words were: Would, Share, Empty, Final, Touch

Your words are: Right, Watch, Shake, Bold, Blush

Tagging @prringlecan again!

Would: Flora Reinhold was who she was, heir to some cursed fortune that she would rather follow Professor Layton as his protegée than claim, and she couldn't inherently change that.

Share: Silently, he flicked his head in her direction and saw her looking anxiously away from him.

"Nah, you're cool. I just don't particularly have much to say. Only been here a couple of weeks, y'know?" he joked tiredly.

"Makes sense," Willow nodded and then clutched the back of her neck, "I just wanted to make sure you had someone you could talk to outside of only Luz. Don't get me wrong - she's great, but I know what it's like to feel like you're all alone out there, and I wouldn't want you to feel like that too," eventually, she shared.

Empty: He straightened out his collar awkwardly, "I suppose not, no... But the answer would still be a no, Flora. If you're in danger, it's my responsibility to aid in protecting you, and I do not think I could grow tired of such an important duty. I would prefer you to never be in such situations in the first place, of course, but I am not capable of controlling all,"

"So you leave me behind," flatly, she replied.

"I try to keep you out of harm's way," he corrected, and even though it stung, she knew he was being entirely truthful; his words weren't empty, as he fully believed them to be a fact.

Final: Amongst the upper class, the story of Reaper’s older brother, the dearly departed Lord Klint van Zieks, and joined partner in the afterlife, Lady Baskerville, was not one easily forgotten. The distinctly uncertain feeling of a lack of safety chilling up your spine at the name ‘The Professor’ was never to be left in the ashes.

After claiming the lives of five anguished victims, the senior Lord van Zieks having been the final tragic case, the king’s advisors had been tasked with finding the man responsible. And a culpable man had been arrested. Not a word outside of the palace was spoken of who. Susato wasn’t even sure Haori knew. Despite this incident being a good decade old, the Reaper was said to still be in grieving for his brother, a phantom roaming the country in search of the last fragments of the lost soul.

I couldn't find anything for touch, sadly, even after digging out some of these year-end WIP's.

The Flora ones are from what I wrote literally last night, whilst the other two are from projects I just probably won't finish...

The DGS one was from a Ginasusahao au that I wrote about a chapter for in January last year, before deciding it wasn't something I thought I'd be able to continue with, and the TOH one was a human realm au (That I wrote way more for than I remembered???) that just didn't feel original enough to be worth continuing. They'll work for this, though.

[dragonleighs]

✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

I haven't actually been tagged by anyone but I saw @bereft-of-frogs give it a go and thought what the hell, why not (I hope you don't mind me tagging you 💜). I also don't have anyone in mind to tag but if you see this feel free to tag me (or not) and give it a go yourself!

Words and Fics

192,428 words posted according to ao3 but at least 90k of that has been carried over from previous years.

Broadly speaking, I've written for two fandoms. The Witcher (Netflix series and Blood Origin) and Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor.

14 fics posted, but again two of those were started in 2022 and another in 2020, all three finished in the beginning of this year.

13/14 of the fics posted/updated this year are finished, one started but on hiatus while my current jfo WIP continues to consume my brain.

Speaking of, said WIP is curently sitting at 132k and only has two or three chapters left before I can start editing.

most recent fic: It's only slaughter, we're only liars (jfo)

longest: that would be A Quest for your Memories (the Witcher), the fic that was haunting me from March 2020. Originally supposed to be a one shot, it ended up being 51,734 words long.

shortest: Echoes (blood origin, 1,118)

Top Fics by Kudos

A Quest for your Memories (794)

I'd Burn So Bright It Blinded (623)

What's The Point (440)

If You Ask Me For My Fire (299)

After The Blood Comes The River (211)

Unsurprisingly they're all witcher fics since it's a much much bigger fandom than jfo/s

Gonna give some love to my personal faves since the Jedi ones can't compete:

It's only slaughter, we're only liars

No more time for my loss

Touchdown

My fandom fic events in 2023

Whumptober which took up a lot of September but was a lot of fun. I enjoyed coming into it with a new fandom since I didn't bother last year.

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

My priority at the moment is to finish my current WIP and then start editing it. While I'm doing that I might try to finish off some of my older fics that have been left hanging.

After that I've already got a whole two part thing planned out that will hopefully be a litte shorter that I'm really looking forward to getting to. Beyond that, I don't know. I'll continue to tie up loose ends (there's a lot of them) or I'll keep writing new stuff. Either way, I don't see me stopping any time soon.

I've had a lot of fun writing this year, though for a couple of months I was worried I was running out of inspiration (mostly because my then current hyperfixation was waning). But then Jedi survivor came along and I've been hooked ever since. I didn't used to think I was capable of writing long fics but between finishing a couple of 50k's and now having such a long WIP I can see I was just being silly. "Do it scared" is good advice.

Happy new year!!

Rules & Tags* below the cut!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

*I usually do stuff like this on my sideblog but that's not where my main focus is any more and idk how many people know about my main. Hence why I don't want to start tagging fandom people. Also idk many people in the jfo/s fandom or who has already done it.

So no tags becasue I'm too shy basically and I don't see that changing any time soon sadly. I love being tagged, I'm just bad at reaching out first...

[saladejin]

Admire | 07

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Things are getting a lil saucier

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Whew, finally we’re up to date. I FINALLY got around to re-editing and revamping this latest chapter, but once again I’m sorry for the delay on it. Now I can start focusing on my wips :))

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The driver bid you both a chaste farewell and soon you were making your way up to house both of you had grown used to sharing. These days, it was simply your safe space, a place you’d slowly begun to warm up to, where you could live and work peacefully in the unimposing presence of your husband, who worked equally as hard for his family.

This was your place to finally belong, the stupidly large mansion that could house ten more of you plus your family with ease, but alas it was still your mansion.

Our … mansion. 

You couldn’t recall the moment where you’d begun to think of it as a home rather than a house. In your mind, it wasn’t really the house itself, but rather the people who lived there that made it a place you could truly call home.

You looked over to Seokjin and suppressed a sigh of built up emotion. The man was currently bringing most of the bags inside without a hitch, making use of his broad shoulders and hauling weight as if he weren’t wielding enough hierarchical power to get it brought in for him by the driver. Watching the scene only reminded you of how much had changed during your time away. 

For one, Seokjin had shocked you with how easily he’d adapted to the different atmosphere and routine. There were no complaints from him about accommodation, food, or even the over-the-top rowdiness and friendliness of the company. He’d taken it all on board with a curiosity you honestly found adorable, and even adopted some of the various mannerisms. Watching him carrying all the luggage inside was just an example of his new way of living, one you chose to call ‘like a normal person’.

You were also growing closer somehow. The usually stoic man had opened up significantly, and you were discovering new things about him just as quickly as he discovered them himself. For instance, he found an enjoyment for cooking after helping some of the uncles with their traditional barbeque, he’d shown interest in acquiring a guitar for himself as soon as he could, and he was becoming more talkative as he began relaxing his hold on the professional barrier between you.

It was as if he was finally allowing himself to live the kind of life he always wanted. No luxurious parties, no expectations, no having to save face with every public outing. You were a messy mixture of nerves, uneasiness, and excitement at the prospect of getting to know Seokjin for who he was.

He had to discover who he was first, though.

“Dinner will be delivered soon.” His voice filtered out from the kitchen area distantly, and only then you realised you’d been standing in the front entrance in a daze. Lost in your thoughts like a fool. Even so, it was hard to miss the odd note hidden deep within his tired voice.

“Why do you sound disappointed? Is it not what you wanted?” you queried while leaving your bags at the front door for someone to collect later. You made your way into the living room with probing eyes, trying to find where his voice was coming from before spotting his black mop of hair scattered on the back of the lounge.

He didn’t respond at first, only met your gaze with his own investigative ones. You sat down heavily on the other lounge with a sharp exhale. Seokjin drummed his fingers against the leather while lifting one leg to cross over the other elegantly, and you knew he was just trying to avoid talking about what was on his mind.

“You can tell me, you know.” You rolled your eyes at his silence.

He ran both hands through his hair roughly and you almost felt breathless at how messy he’d made himself, like he’d just rolled out of bed. Considering you were both still in your casual clothing from the road trip, it was a sight that made your whole body tingle with a fondness you couldn’t explain. You were just beginning to see more of his hidden personality, and that made you happy in some indescribable way.

“I don’t know, I was hoping to actually try and cook something for once. Like hyung was telling me…”

“Oh? there’s that word again,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the happy swell in your chest after hearing that he wanted to try cooking the same things from a few nights ago, “and you can get the grill out tomorrow night if you want.”

“Hmm, I’ll see how I feel. Anyway, what word?” he asked while sitting back and continuing to run his hand through his hair lazily, expression puzzled. You felt so annoyed at the longing you felt to be the one doing it for him. You had been wondering what his silky looking tresses had felt like for the longest time.

“Is it ‘hyung’?” You smiled in embarrassment, mouthing out the word carefully to try and pronounce it in an acceptable manner at least, though you could never hope to sound fluent right off the bat. Seokjin’s eyes fell to you as the word left your lips, the small lifting of his cheeks being the only hint that he was trying to suppress his amusement. The way his cocoa coloured eyes sparkled at the sound of his native tongue made your heart squirm.

“It’s a good attempt, but no it’s pronounced more like ‘hyeong’. Try it.”

“Hyung.”

“Yeah, that’s … better.”

You hid your grin with the back of your hand, eyebrows shooting up at his unsure sounding feedback. He even managed to crack a tiny smirk of his own, his full lips making him look even more model-like under the soft lighting of your living room.

“Hey, how am I meant to get it perfect straight away? Besides, I forgot what it means already,” you huffed, and brought your legs to tuck comfortably underneath you.

“It’s just a term we use to refer to older males,” he explained, letting his head fall back against the seat slowly. Seeing his eyes fluttering to a close made you wonder how tired he must’ve been feeling. After spending so much time interacting with strangers, and driving, and pretending to be your husband, you supposed.

The jarring noise of the doorbell brought you to your feet, and you went to collect your dinner from the front door as Seokjin gave a quiet nod.

Now that he’s brought it up, I think I’d prefer a home cooked meal too.

“So, am I meant to call you ‘hyung’?” You laughed inwardly while making your way back to him. You were excited to learn more about him now that he was opening up and unfurling in front of your eyes.

He had to purse his lips slightly to avoid smiling again. “No, and please don’t. It would feel way too odd to hear that from you.”

“Oh.” Your heart cracked a little, thinking of course he wouldn’t want his foreign partner to try and so poorly imitate something such as his native language, something he considered close to his heart and home. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, it’s just that Korean women don’t use ‘hyung’. If you are female and want to refer to an older male, or partner…” He seemed to hesitate, as if rethinking his decision to elaborate on the subject at all. “Then you can call m- you can use ‘oppa’.”

You swallowed a mouthful of steak before attempting to copy him. “Oppa?”

Seokjin blinked before giving you a tiny nod. Not a single second passed before he was focusing back on his food, the conversation apparently hitting a weird place for him.

“I don’t have to go around calling you that. It’s not like I’m trying to adopt another culture,” you clarified for him, noting how his shoulders seemed to relax at your gentle tone. “I only want to understand you better, Seokjin.”

His hands faltered in their movements to cut the tender steak on his plate. You didn’t catch any change in his expression, as expected, but his eyes gleamed with something you could only describe as appreciation. A few months ago, neither of you probably thought you’d end up sharing your ethnic differences with one another over dinner like this.

The house had always been so silent with just the two of you, and your mind kept thinking back to your old home where there were always maids, cooks and butlers milling about. It struck you as a little peculiar, so you decided to ask.

“Sorry to change the subject, but why is it that your mother requested there to be no live-in staff here?”

Seokjin continued to eat slowly but looked up with a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “I was confused too, but she always brushed it off. Something about family traditions requiring minimal interferences? I didn’t really get it since I’d never heard of said ‘tradition’, but I never really understood her methods anyway.”

Oh…

Your face burned as you understood what he was saying. It was almost laughable, how oblivious he was to his mother’s implications. The thought probably never crossed his mind that she could be referring to the two of you having sexual relations in some way. Well, why should the thought cross his mind?

This was never meant to be anything more than a fake relationship, an array of masks worn only to fool them into believing it was true. It was easy to understand why his mother would think accordingly. You had been trying to trick her, but perhaps you’d been just a little too convincing.

“Yeah, weird huh?” You cleared your throat, offering to take up his dish as you both finished off the meals. The case of the understaffing was forgotten as you moved back to where your husband was half sprawled on the couch, but now the quiet hum of the television accompanied the room and you were thankful to have something filling the silence. Even if it was something was simple as slightly muffled voices from the people on the big screen.

You plonked back down on the leather and felt relaxation crawl up your spine in the best way. You were slowly beginning to believe that there was almost nothing better than this. Spending a night at home with someone you cared about, watching a movie or TV show, nice and warm and comfortable.

You briefly registered that in your current position, Seokjin’s arm that’d been outstretched along the back of the seat now rested just behind your neck. You thought nothing of it, knowing he sure as hell wouldn’t, but let your imagination take the reins at all the possibilities presenting themselves.

Imagining a smile tugging at his lips as he brought his arm down to drape across your shoulders. His warm hand as it cupped your jaw, a gentle thumb drawing tiny circles into the flushing skin along your cheekbone. You imagined the feeling of your smaller hand travelling up the hardened expanse of his clothed chest, feeling the lean muscle and taut ridges underneath the flimsy barrier separating skin from skin.

You felt your face flush further in surprise when your daydream was snapped away into thin air, the cushion underneath you squeaking as he suddenly moved from his slumped position.

“I’m about ready to call it a night. The driving must’ve taken more out of me than I thought,” he said while sporting a grunt of effort, his face wincing at the pop of his joints once he stretched his long legs out. As he brought his arm inwards to follow suit, you felt the slightest brush of his fingers graze your neck. The small shudder that racked your body from the sensation was instantaneous, and you knew that your shameless imagination from earlier had made the cravings for his touch worse.

Unintentionally, your body shifted to try and follow his hand before you managed to will yourself into a stiff, unmoving statue.

Shit, what was that?

You closed your eyes and blew out your cheeks in annoyance, directed at nobody but yourself. Was it really all becoming too much for you the handle at this point? When had you become so … pathetic and needy? This wasn’t like you at all.

It was only then you realised Seokjin hadn’t moved since your loss of inhibitions. You wrenched your eyes open and glanced over to him, knowing full well that his observant gaze had seen the entire display from beginning to end. Oh God no!

“(Y/n), I’ve been thinking,” came Seokjin’s voice through the robotic sounding laughs emitting from the speakers of the television. He was holding his arm awkwardly in the air just above his own lap, as if it had been electrocuted and was no longer capable of moving.

“About what? Oh, when is our next event? I forgot to ask you earlier,” you uttered faintly, trying to cover up your reddening face with one hand. There was no way he was going to let what happened slide, you knew just by seeing the pointed look in his curious dark eyes. He lowered his arm and kept his eyes fixated on your jittery form.

“Not for ages, but anyway that’s not what I was thinking about,” he said with a lazy mumble to his voice that was honestly just a little too low, teetering on seductive but obviously unintentional.

You mentally implored him to forget your stupid reactions. It was getting out of hand and you were already trying your best to rein yourself in.

“Oh?” You raised a brow, waiting for the inevitable questioning that was surely coming your way.

In all honesty, you just wanted to go shower and sleep for the next week. During the trip you’d had so many restless nights, being too caught up on the whole sharing a bed situation. It got better as time went on, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t meant to be there in between the sheets with him. Every time, you held yourself back from the urge to touch him and shuffle closer to his side.

Rein it in. Rein-

Seokjin finally parted his lips in to respond, “It’s just that I can’t help noticing how you get lost in your thoughts lately, along with all the other odd reactions. You keep getting this look on your face, like you’re longing for something, and I can’t help but think back to what you were saying at Taehyung’s party.”

Okay, well this was a bit more than you expected. You felt shivers of humiliation travelling up your skin at the thought of him noticing your fantasizing, of all things. Were you really becoming that obvious even in a state of subconscious? Damn, things were really worse than you thought.

“What? At Tae’s party?” you murmured, trying to awkwardly laugh it off in the process. How did he manage to call you out like that with the straightest of faces? It was almost unfair that he could be so serious and not become affected by these things.

“Yeah,” Seokjin continued. “How you said you craved human touch all the time because the way you grew up left you wanting. I realised during the trip, how content you looked when you were receiving affection from your family members … and me.”

You snapped your eyes up to him, looking to see if his expression would give anything away about what he was thinking even though you knew it was futile. To your shock, his face actually wasn’t the same blank slate you were used to seeing when he pondered. For the first time, you saw him show slight apprehension as he nibbled on his plush bottom lip.

‘And me’ he’d said. You were suddenly thrown back to that one night in the motorhome, which honestly seemed like a mere fever dream, where he’d run his hands along your body and held you close for the first time. That first night you had shared the same bed, and all the dams had broken within you.

It was the night I opened up to him, and maybe that was when he decided to do the same.

“So, I want-”

He cut himself off and sat forward, looking so bewildered and lost that you were beginning to grow concerned. At the recollection of all these memories, you were already feeling vulnerable and ashamed. His vagueness was not helping you keep your shit together.

“I want you to show me what you mean. What are you asking for when you say those things?” He finished by clasping his hands together and looking up at you as hopefully as he could, which was minimal for him. You couldn’t really believe your ears at this point.

“Show you?” you repeated in disbelief. “H-how?”

“Show me what you need,” he rephrased, straightening his back slightly and fiddling with his fingers.

It was a cute little habit you’d never seen before, but your brain could barely register that when you were already reeling from what he was saying. He was close enough that you could catch the scent of his faint cologne, and it was making your head spin faster and faster. The quiet sound of the television faded out as you focused on his beautiful eyes right in front of you.

“You want me to touch you?” You tilted your head, feeling like you were having an out-of-body experience when he nodded to confirm your suspicions.

“If that’s what you want.”

It was strange, not knowing whether to feel happy or whether to feel humiliated, or relieved, or even saddened; all because of your neediness that he’d seen way too many times.

“Okay.”

Your shoulders sagged in a strange sense of defeat. This whole impasse had been your weakness from the start, and now it was finally coming to light. You were ready to help him understand things from your point of view, and maybe he would start to see why you’d been acting this way.

He’d grown up in a similar environment, even despite some stark differences. Why couldn’t there be just a small chance that he might relate somehow?

“What do you feel when you get close to another person?” you asked softly, untangling your feet from under each other and resting them squarely on the ground in front of you. It was intimidating to look up at his looming figure this boldly, yet being so close to his body heat only seemed to put you more at ease.

You wanted to fall into him and have him cradle you in his arms, but you knew that if you were going to show him the right way, you needed to take it slow.  

“I don’t feel so different. It doesn’t happen often, actually,” he mused while keeping his eyes focused on you. “When I see my mother at galas or balls, I suppose it just feels like I want to get away.”

You stifled a chuckle at the thought of his mother’s smothering putting him off. It was like that for so many kids out there, but you couldn’t share that feeling when it was lucky for you to even see your mother once in a while. Seokjin’s tensed frame seem to falter slightly when you knowingly smiled up at him. Gone was the shyness, the tiptoeing, the never-ending feeling of restraint.

This was your husband in front of you, and now he was asking you to touch him.

“That’s understandable Seokjin, but I mean in other instances where it’s perhaps more welcomed, or even instigated mainly by you. Say, you see your brother after a long time, so you hug him. Yes?”

The man’s black hair bounced slightly as he nodded. You hadn’t made any moves to be closer to him yet, and you could sense his confusion, but truly it was best to go gradual for him to understand. Rather than you just throwing yourself at him in a barrage of limbs.

“How does that make you feel, compared to how you feel normally?” you tried again, your eyes wide with a curiosity that probably burned even brighter than his. A month or so ago, you never would’ve thought you’d be having such a close and intimate conversation about his relationships.

Clearly, the road trip had not only changed you both in multiple ways, but it had also changed the very dynamic tying you together. The foundations of your relationship, and what it meant to each of you. The man sitting before you now was nothing but a far cry from the man you’d once faced at the altar. As foolish as it was, you could not be prouder of him.

“I suppose I was taught to just do it in certain situations. I never thought about how it made me feel,” he offered in a low voice, brows furrowing as he tried thinking about how he could be more helpful. The slight pout to his pinkish lips had your heart beating erratically.

“Seokjin, do you care about me?” you asked, and time drew to a stop.

This was the kind of question you told yourself you would never ask him. It was almost impossible to answer considering your circumstances, and the owlish look in his eyes told you that you were right in thinking so.

“Yes.”

Your world resumed spinning, but the silence continued. Honestly, you didn’t think you would have kept it together if he’d answered no. You loved him, that much you were sure of, but before the holiday you had been confused about whether you cared for the man so strongly out of your pure desire for close friendship and companionship. You weren’t dense though. These feelings were far more than that, and you were an idiot for entertaining them.

You stared into each other’s eyes, trying to read foreign minds and figure out what it all meant. He cared about you, and you cared about him. That much was a given, but the true depth of that fact remained a constant unknown. He exhaled sharply, almost as if he couldn’t really believe he’d answered so sincerely. So quickly.

“I didn’t think I would, but since the beginning you’ve turned out to be quite different than who I thought I’d be married to. My life … changed, but it was seamless and easy compared to the complicated mess I thought I was going to have to deal with,” he explained with sad eyes. His gaze had been trained on the floor since he’d given you ‘yes’ as an answer.

You shifted closer and brought one hand up to lift his lowered jaw, angling it to face you so you could see his inquisitive eyes once more. His large hands remained clenched in his lap, unsure of what to do at this point.

“Seokjin I care about you too, so you don’t have to feel like you’re on your own here.” You laughed quietly, noticing his shoulders relax as you moved your hand up to rest on the side of his face. Your fingertips buried themselves into the shorter strands of his hair.

If only he knew the true extent of my feelings.

You cleared your throat, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts before they took over, and switched your teacher mode on quickly. “This is a … type of contact that you can kind of do anytime, and you can even play with the person’s hair, or just kind of massaging gently.”

You demonstrated by slowly bringing your hands up to run through his marvelous black locks, lips parting in amazement at the feeling of his soft hair you’d always imagined combing back with your fingers. Your other hand shaped itself to his face as you tried your best to stop yourself from leaning any further forward.

You couldn’t kiss him like this just yet. Not when it would actually mean something to him, for the first time.

“Why do you say ‘the person’s’? You know I wouldn’t have the nerve to try this with anyone else, right?” He murmured unexpectedly; his eyes somewhat nervous at what you were implying. You were quick to push your surprise away and nodded, because it was the only response you could think of.

He took a small but deep breath to regain himself, letting his stoic persona continue to melt underneath your touch. “May I?” he asked in a soft voice, and once again all you could do was nod your head.

He brought one of his hands up hesitantly and you couldn’t help a small fond smile at the way he was concentrating so intently on the movement. As soon as his hand made contact with the skin of your cheek, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it. He watched in wonder as your eyes fluttered shut, his other hand now carding itself through your slightly messy hair.

If you’d been a cat, you were certain a distinct sound of purring would emanate from your throat.

He smoothed all your hair back until it was no longer ruffled, and then brought both hands back to cradle your face once more. You didn’t realise you’d been leaning forward and running your hands up his chest until the moment you reached his shirt collar, and your eyes zeroed in on the expanse of his neck just long enough to see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in a hard swallow.

“Um, now you can touch a bit lower if you want. Or just hold my hands if you’re more comfortable with that,” you breathed, trying to bring your thoughts to a focal point while removing your hands from him sharply. He looked so picturesque up this close. You just wanted to stay in this position for hours upon hours.

“Like this?” He voiced hoarsely. You tried to keep your breathing normal as one of his hands fell down to encompass yours, but the other traced the line of your jaw before gliding downwards and brushing against the tender skin of your neck. Just has he had in the beginning before all of this had started.

“Yeah.”

You almost whimpered at the tingling sensation, but kept it in for the sake of the exercise. This man was absolutely dangerous for your wellbeing. It wasn’t even his actions at this point, just his undivided attention and careful eyes tracing over the curve of your figure that had your insides turning to jelly.

“That’s probably enough for now. I can hear your brain working,” you spoke and let out an airy laugh when his fingers hesitated in their descent. It was as if he was trying to compute too much information at once, and somehow, the way he was trying his best was oddly charming.

He grunted. “I’m just- I’m trying to understand you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it,” you responded with a genuine smile, noticing how his words mirrored your own from earlier back when you’d butchered his native tongue. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m so exhausted I could pass out.”

“Yeah, now I’m really calling it a night.” He cleared his throat with a sigh, mind clearly burning out from the overload of new experiences.

He stood from the couch so suddenly, a stiffness taking hold of his movements. Just what was going through his head at a time like this? You missed his close proximity almost immediately.

Like a robot programmed to move, you also heaved your body up from where it was beginning to sink into the cushions. This whole turn of events seemed unreal, and you could feel your heart still throbbing in your chest at the feeling of Seokjin underneath your fingertips. He had been so warm and had looked so beautiful.

You ran your fingers through your hair as the silence permeated the air, the only sounds being your husband's gentle footsteps as he packed away a few things around the house. You gathered your own bags from the front door and sluggishly traipsed towards your bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway.

I don't want to be on my own.

The invasive thought made you take a few shaky steps back. You were ready to put everything at risk and confess to him how lonely and in love you were, yet to your surprise the sound of his voice softly calling your name made you falter in your tracks.

You stood in the doorway looking outwards as he loitered in front of his own bedroom door at the opposite end, one large hand resting on the doorknob as if he'd been hesitating to open it.

"Did you hear me?"

You relaxed your stance, a sudden embarrassment beginning to settle in at how eager your movements were. "Yeah? What is it?"

Please let me stay with you. Please let me-

"Isn't it - doesn't it seem strange?" He seemed to inwardly backpedal all of a sudden, his pretty eyes falling to the floor and his slightly down-turned nose twitched in regret. "I mean, sorry if this is weird, but after sharing a bed for the entire road trip, doesn't it feel strange to suddenly go back to our own rooms?"

“Ah.” You somehow managed to suppress a hefty sigh of relief, pure ecstasy shooting through your body like some special brand of heroin. You tried to bump up his courage with a reassuring smile. "Jin yes, I still want to spend the night with you."

His eyes rose from the floor as the burden lifted from his mind, shoulders seeming to shake free the stiffness that had taken hold of them ever since the couch fiasco.

"I'm glad. Come over here then."

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[sushiburritonoms]

I've been having terrible writer's block lately, not enjoying anything I've written, not getting anywhere with WIPs. Poor @darkisrising and @bronze-lorica have had to talk me off edges lately (thanks guys you're the best!). I think I finally have a chapter 3 for Sacred Texts but I'm sitting on it for a while to see if that's the direction I really want to go. I'm soooo sorry for the delay.

In the meantime I was looking through my notes for The Father the Son and the Exile and I found a bunch of scenes I wrote and abandoned as the fic moved in different directions. I figured I'd post some of them because they'll never see the light of day otherwise and because I have nothing else to offer right now.

Originally in Exile, Din and Luke were supposed to make it to Tython. I had them meeting up with Han AND Leia on the planet Ajan Kloss (its the planet Luke and Leia train on in TROS). Its interesting looking back at this, Din and Luke have a different dynamic since I wrote this a long time ago back in March when the story was going in a different direction (I also wrote an homage to one of Writer Owl's fics in the dialogue). I enjoy playful Luke, I don't really write him that often and that's a real shame. Anyways here's wonder wall, enjoy!

Ajan Kloss  was a swampy humid hellhole of a planet that no rational, sentient being should visit, let alone enjoy. Of course that meant that Grogu and Luke were comfortable in the sticky humid environment. In fact there was a rare smile stretched across Luke's face and he sounded almost nostalgic as he talked around their campfire.

“There’s a certain type of moss that grows on the trees here that’s edible.”

Din refused to look up at Luke from where he was cleaning their meal.  “I’m not drinking any tea you make out of it.”

“It’s more of a garnish?”

Din sighed. “Don’t touch my fish.” He forcefully stuck a stick lengthwise through the fish as an emphasis.

“Grogu should really have more vegetation in his diet. Master Yoda used to eat plants.”

Din snorted. “You’re welcome to try.” It wasn’t like the kid never ate vegetables but they were always fried and covered in spices. That probably wasn’t what Luke was getting at.

“Maybe later. He did eat two whole frogs.”  Luke edged himself closer to the fire. “Maybe after this we could swing by Dagobah. You know, assuming we’re not about to trigger some sort of sneak attack or trap. There are tubers I could dig up for him that Master Yoda ate, plus I could pick up more gnarltree bark.”

Din blinked and raised his head up to properly look at Luke. He knew what Luke was doing. He was trying to distract himself with thoughts of the future. It was a tactic Din often used himself--strategize every possible outcome in the hopes the future won’t be as terrifying as it feels.

On the one hand, he was amused and touched by Luke’s continued fixation on Grogu’s eating habits, even if it was hypocritical of Luke given his own poor diet.  It reminded Din of some of the older members of the Covert that used to watch Din when he was little. They always used to harass him to eat everything offered to him and gave him sharp nudges when he tried to skip directly to the occasional sweet treat left out for all the foundlings to share. It was very Mandalorian of Skywalker and it felt good. Familiar.

On the other hand, Din really, really didn’t want any more tree bark in the Wayfinder. So Din didn’t really know what to say.

“Hold this.” Din shoved a fish skewer into Luke’s hand. Yeah that worked.

Luke took the skewer with a hint of a smile.  “Master Yoda used to eat certain mushrooms too, I think I can safely identify them. Or maybe I could put together an aquarium in the Wayfinder and we could take more frogs with us. I bet I can repurpose one of the smaller cloning cylinders I have in the back and add a filtration system...”

Din shuddered at the thought  of living with a cloning vat filled with frogs and the likelihood of frogs, moss and tree bark for dinner several nights a week.  Just no. “This is why our people are ancient enemies,” he shuddered. “You live like animals.”

There was silence. Too long of a silence. Din looked up.

Luke was staring at him with a shocked look on his face. “Our people are ancient enemies?” He whispered.

Ah kriff. Din winced. “So I’ve heard.”

“....Oh.”  Luke looked crushed.  “Nobody told--well. There’s a lot nobody told me,” he sighed. “About being a Jedi.”

Damn damn damn. Din wanted to throw his hands up in the sky.

“I guess that makes sense,” Luke mumbled. He was fiddling with the fish skewer in his hands. “All the other Mandalorians I’ve ever met have tried to capture or kill me. I thought it was just the Bounty…”

“I’m not like other Mandalorians.”  Din interrupted, desperate to turn the conversation. It was technically true, probably just not in a way that helped their relationship. Er--their partnership?  Their--whatever this was.

“I mean I like you…”

Din froze. What.

“You’re really good at fishing and Grogu loves you.  I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Din’s heart restarted in his chest again.  Was Luke...messing with him?   “You wouldn’t leave a mark.”

Luke blinked up at him innocently and fluttered his damn eyelashes.  “I could totally kill you in your sleep.”

The little shit!  “I’ll poison your tea.”

“It’s pretty much already poison. I’m immune.”

Heh, true.  “Your fish then.”

“I’ll just go grab a frog.”

“You’re staying here and eating my damn fish!”

Luke burst out into sudden loud laughter.  It was like a sudden fierce rainstorm in the way it showered over the camp. It startled Grogu, who had been ignoring both of them in favor of playing with some shiny rocks nearby.  He tilted his head and then matched Luke’s laughter with a baby chuckle of his own.

“Sorry! I think it's just my nerves talking but that just sounded wrong and so funny--”

Din just shook his head. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had set Luke off but he didn’t care. “Crazy Jedi.”

“Trigger happy Mandalorian.”  Luke gave him a giant smile.  “Hurry up and finish this.” He gave Din back the fish skewer and chuckled again.  Despite his comment about his nerves, Luke’s shoulders were relaxed and his legs were spread out comfortably by the fire. Din could stare at his lopsided smile all evening, especially as the sun set and the fire highlighted the delight in his eyes. The sun shone through the lighter parts of Luke’s shaggy long hair. It was now untied from the neat bun it had started in and looked soft and golden in the light.

Stars above help him.  Luke was beautiful.  Din was tired of denying the thought. He wanted to touch Luke’s face with his bare hands, run his fingers through his hair and that was terrifying. He hadn’t wanted to take off his armor for anyone, besides Grogu, in ages. Maybe with Omera...but this was much different. The feelings he’d had for her were a momentary weakness compared to the colossally bad idea this was to develop an attraction for this damaged Jedi.  Din had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring.  Even if nothing happened, there was the uncertainty of the next day and the next to worry about. Luke was a marked man and every day there was a chance something could take him out. Take him away. The thought burned in him like a chemical fire inside a reactor.  Caged deep inside of him, destructive it released, and burning with an intensity greater than Din could stand.

This was why he never got involved with people before he found Grogu. He didn’t know what to do with the intensity of his feelings and how to fit them into his unpredictable life.

“Din?” Luke’s smile fell slightly. “You ok?”

“..Yeah.”  Din did what he always did. He pushed his feelings away and tried to focus on the present.  What had they been talking about? Food. He sat and thought for a moment. Maybe...

“I have a contact on Tatooine, from a rural town few people have heard of. Mos Epsa.”

“Mos Eps--I thought that was wiped from the planet years ago.” Luke looked impressed.

“It’s still there.”  Din handed Luke a cooked fish skewer and settled back with his own. “We could go there, for a while. We’d be safe. I’m assuming we can both eat Tatooine food.”

Luke picked at his fish. “I do miss blue milk.”

Good.  “I’ll add it to the list.”

Luke chuckled. “You have a list?”

“Of safe planets we can stop at. We should have alternatives to the drop pods and not be reliant on the New Republic. My list is probably different from yours so we have more options.” Din stabbed his fish a little harder with his skewer to make his opinion of Luke’s employers known.

The smile on Luke’s face got impossibly wider. “That makes sense...Thank you.”

Din grunted. The smile on Luke’s face was too distracting.  Instead he looked down at his food. Oh. Right. Damn.

Luke made the exact realization at the same time. “Sorry! I forgot, I can go back to the ship--”

“Shut up and sit down, Jetti.” Din shook his head. He only hesitated for a half second before he reached up to his helmet and unlatched it. He opened it wide enough to take a bite.

“Or you could do that. Of course.” Luke babbled.  He turned his head so he wasn’t looking at Din.  Which was sweet. But also meant he wasn’t looking at his food.

“Eat.” Din growled. “All of it.” How was it this hard to feed a grown adult? Grogu gave him less trouble. Gods help Skywalker, Din was about to channel some of the fiercest warriors he knew to get him to eat more.

Luke gave him a mock solute. “Yes sir.”

Din began to reach for his sidearm.

Luke responded with a rather unnecessarily dainty bite of fish.

Din began to unhook his blaster.

Luke nibbled at one edge of a fin.

The blaster powered up.

Luke kriffing licked his fish.

“That’s disgusting.” Din gave up. He couldn’t help it--he chuckled as he powered down his blaster.

“Yeah it is,” Luke stuck his tongue out. “Fish is gross.”

“I thought you said you’d eat anything.”

“I do. I don’t have to like it.  I didn’t grow up eating fish, it’s both slimy and spikey at the same time.”

“You eat frogs.”

“You can eat a small frog in one bite! I’ve gotten fish bones stuck in my throat.”

“You’re not supposed to eat the bones.”

“Nobody told me that the first time. What part of ‘raised on a desert planet’ does no one understand?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Luke sat back. “I’m done now, mom. May I go now?”

Din sighed. “No.” He held out another fish skewer.

“You got to be kidding me.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“How hard is the har--YIKES! NO! LETGO! ARGHHH!!!!!”

‘Yup’, Din thought to himself as he held the struggling, still too skinny, Jedi in a headlock.  He had it bad and he was going to regret this.

Tomorrow. He’ll regret it tomorrow.

“DJARIN LET ME GO NOW OR YOU’RE GOING IN THE SWAMP!”

Here’s hoping the desert boy could swim.

[heycaricari]

Well here we go. My first ask. Tagged by the inimitable @mortifyingideal Behold, Tumblr, the inner workings of my soul...

------

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27 under this name 😬

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

476,208

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Ho boy... Ok. I am probably forgetting a few but the big ones were LOTR, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Star Trek TOS & VOY, Spooks, Silence of the Lambs, and of course Good Omens!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Top, Anthony, Silk, Saltwater, and Any Other Way.

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

I really truly try to. When I'm in a place where I'm actively creating content and happy with what I'm putting out, responding is easy. There's nothing I want to talk about more. When I'm in one of the troughs, not so much.

The appreciation is always there though. ❤️ I love that people care about what happens to my characters. The idea of my thoughts coming alive in someone else's imagination makes me feel like an ALL POWERFUL WIZARD.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It will surprise no one to hear that I'm not a big angst writer. Ive tried but apparently I'm not a pessimist but a depressed optimist in disguise. Who knew.

Ive got a few dark chapters - especially in PL - but I think the endings make up for them.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No. I barely manage continuity in one fandom.

8. have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes.

9. do you write smut? if so what kind?

Yes. The wholesome kind.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. Not in this fandom but in one of my previous incarnations. I always used to wonder how well the Scottish idioms came across...

11. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I would love to give it a go someday. Preferably with someone who has a loose grasp of deadlines. And endless stores of patience.

13. What's your all time favourite ship?

It's hard to choose. All the pairings I wrote about had a very different dynamic.

I guess, as I got older, characters like Aziraphale and Crowley became more appealing to me. (It was probably that realisation that it's easy to fall instantly and dramatically in love, but finding someone who can also be your friend, who you can trust... well, that's a whole thing).

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Cold War human spy AU. It's research heavy and pretty dark.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Output. I have periods of time (usually days but occasionally weeks) when I can churn out copy like a room full of monkeys on typewriters. I have days where everything clicks. Sentences flow. Dialogue writes itself. Dangling plot threads find one another.

My good days are really good days - so I can double down and get a lot done.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I also have really bad days. They come from nowhere and, when they do, I avoid writing out of some weird fear that I've "lost" my flow and I'll never get it back. I put off working on things for weeks and, when I finally manage to sit down, I end up picking over what I've already got rather than working on something new. I overwork and lose confidence and end up screaming into the void. It's a whole cycle.

I am also not concise. I ramble and then resist cutting on edit.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I hadn't thought about it until this moment in time.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. Me and my sister used to write glorious (😂) epic romances which I would then type up and print off in the dead of night.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Fave multichap - "Cold". Not my most popular or polished (it's from before I met my wonderful beta) but I wrote as I posted - over the 12 days of Christmas - so I feel it's less filtered than my other work. I am really proud of some of the imagery I managed to get across. And I'd like to go back and spell-check it one day.

Fave one shot - probably New Life. It felt more real than the others. Maybe because it was from an outside POV. (Adam's).

----

This was fun - thanks mort !!

[dreadfutures]

WIP Wednesday at BTV: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @ellie-effie | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @nivenor-krosis | @kittynomsdeplume | @inquisitoracorn | @ohhgren | @medlilove | @morganlefaye79 | @hollyand-writes

And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

[seriouslysam8]

For the ask game, would you please answer questions numbered 2, 8, 14 (all of your titles have such cool names), 18 (I hope Abditory isn't one of them as that story rocks), 21, 24, 29, 30, 33, 34, 44, 51, 62, 76, 82, 85, 88, 90, and 98.

Sorry for asking so many, but I love your work! Entombed gave me so many feels! I found your stories because author Breanie said to read them in her author's notes. Best rec ever! Thank you for answering.

Wow, that is a lot of asks! Thank you so much for wanting to know so much about little ole me. I think I hit them all in this and my apologies if I missed one. Let me know if I missed one. @breaniebree is awesome and my writing BFF. She is amazing, and I love her.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

So, I’ve written for The X-Files, Supernatural, and Harry Potter. I currently only write for Harry Potter. I would say Harry Potter has always been the most fun.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Random shit. Brontide came to me because I was browsing the HPFanfiction subreddit looking for a story suggestion and someone asked for a story where Harry was addicted to Felix. Only one unfinished dimensional time travel story was listed. It idea sparked me to write my own version. Entombed came to me because I was rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy was buried alive. I knew I wanted to bury Ginny alive. As I stated in the author’s notes of last Kalopsia chapter, I drew inspiration from the Djinn storyline in Supernatural. I write about things I know, too. I have young kids at home so I like writing the Potter children as young because I can mimic their mannerisms in my writing. I’ve even asked my kids to say certain words to emulate their speech pattern in my writing if I’m writing that age group.

14) How did you come up with the title for the XXX? You can ask about multiple stories.

I HATE coming up with titles. My newest trend has been to literally Google “unique words”. There are a ton of Pinterest accounts who make fancy word and definition pictures. I scroll through all these little unique words and pick out ones I think fit a story. Sometimes I Google a unique word for BLANK and see if I can get a cool version of that name. @breaniebree actually helped me with Entombed.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Sadly, I would put Abditory in this category. Never say never though. I think about it from time to time. Honestly, I abandoned it due to such a negative response I was receiving and the lack of positive response. I became discouraged. It wasn’t even negative response due to my writing, it was literally a bunch of “why would you waste your time writing a story about the biggest plot hole in the books? JKR butchered the whole SK storyline and it’s unbearable to read.” So, basically, my reviews and PMs were filled with JKR hate over that plot point in the books. They heavily outweighed the positive reviews I received. Honestly, I think that’s why a bulk of stories get abandoned - lack of positive reviews or enthusiasm for a story. If I didn’t get so many great reviews for my stories, I don’t know if I’d be able to finish them or continuing writing new ones. Fanfiction is free, (as it should be) but it’s a lot of time and hard work. A little appreciation goes a LONG way. So, my advice, review everything you love reading and encourage writers to keep writing. I always say in my authors notes that reviews make me want to write and inspire me. That’s the truth. The moment I stop getting reviews will probably be the time I take a writing break again.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

@breaniebree. I mean she’s dedicated years to a single story with so many plot lines and characters that I’m amazed she did it. She’s a fantastic writer, and I definitely consider her my writing BFF. I feel like I’ve learned a lot from her and enjoy talking about writing with her so much. I’m so glad we’ve become friends.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Horrified. Anytime I get a little steamy in my stories, it goes immediately to @breaniebree who usually adds way too much smut and then I cut it down to still be somewhat PG-13 in order to appeal to a wider audience.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I feel like Kalopsia isn’t getting as much love as my other stories. I’m way behind in my normal review count per chapter. I wonder if it’s just the confusing storyline or if it’s just not as fun to read? But I was definitely worried it wouldn’t get the love I thought it deserved when I started writing it and it’s lived up to that expectation.

30) In contrast to 29, is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Cronus Rising. People still recommend it occasionally and I still get random reviews. I’m like, “why????” Its horribly written and a stupid plot line. I literally was getting back into writing after not writing for a good five years, so it’s abysmal. I’ve often wanted to rage delete it.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

When someone tells me I should write an original novel and they’d buy the hell out of it. I do have some original novel ideas floating around (one I’ve been writing since I was like 15), but crippling fear of rejection from publishers have stopped me from ever actually finish an original novel.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I got some criticism in Brontide for having drama for drama’s sake with no real purpose or goal for said drama. I felt my drama served a purpose, drove the story along, and I add a lot of fluffy and cute family moments. I feel like in real life, when you to your loved one is going through sometime, it feels like nonstop drama and bad news and like a dark cloud just follows you. I wanted to emulate that in real life. So Harry’s POV was often drab because HE was the one going through something horrific and it was all doom and gloom for him.

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“You never think I listen to your ramblings, but it’s kind of hard to block out, mate.”

51) From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

Um... I’d say a 3. I think I have some good and unique plots for stories but sometimes I struggle on how to execute those on paper effectively. I struggle with descriptions, action, and showing rather than telling. But I do think I’m good at dialogue and capturing a character’s personality. So, 3.

62) Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

A lot! I have a Teddy/Victoire stalker story in the works that I’m excited about. I have (this is going to sound weird) but an outsider rom-com planned where Ron/Hermione breakup right before Hinny’s wedding and Hinny struggles to get them back together before the big day. I have a Potter family vacation fluff/comedy story planned. I have a game night one-shot planned. I have a short story about Luna’s wedding. So many that I want to write and don’t know which one to write first!!

76) Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I’d say no. I’ve always tried to write my ideas down. Some I’ve never finished because inspiration peters off and some I plan on finishing once my newest big project is done.

82) Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

Harry goes through some shit, and Ginny is his soulmate.

85) Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I don’t understand why people don’t ship Harry/Ginny more. I don’t understand the Harry/Daphne obsessions (like just why???) or the Harry/Hermione ship at all. I always see people asking for story recommendation and they specific say “no Harry/Ginny”. They are literally perfect for one another and they are soulmates.

88) If you could ask one other fanfic author three questions about their writing, writing process, or works, what would they be and who would you ask?

@breaniebree .

1.) How do you organize all your charts? Send me the ALL the charts. Because I don’t understand how you keep everything straight!

2.) How do you write so much? You’re like a little writing machine in a cute little package.

3.) Where do all the ideas come from? In a dream? Just thinking? Driving? Do you write everything out in your head like meeee? Can I have some of your writing mojo?

90) How do you process and deal with negative reviews?

I obsess over them. I analyze them. I may get bummed out and not write for a few days. If you don’t like what I write, then don’t read or review. It’s a hobby. I do this for free. I’m not asking you to critique me. Give me a nice review or ask me a question, but don’t be cruel or mean because you can hide behind a keyboard and be a bully to make yourself feel superior.

98) If you had to give up either snacks and drinks during writing sessions, or music, which would you find more difficult to say goodbye to and why?

Music. I grew up with three older brothers. My house was always rowdy and loud and obnoxious. I need it to be loud. I can’t stand the silence or focus when it’s silent. I need music to help me think and write. When I’m home alone, I always turn on the TV or music, because I can’t stand when it’s silent. I think I’d go insane.

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt #2 from my JonGerry WiP

CN/TW for this one: loaded flirting, teasing and squabbling, implication of homophobia, implication of transphobia, very brief discussion of boundaries around sex (as in: hard no, won't happen), misunderstanding around the flirting

Jon actually dozed off at one point, his head pillowed on Gerry’s shoulder and body curled towards them. Delicately manoeuvring Jon’s glasses off his nose, Gerry pressed a kiss to his forehead,

“I love you.” A sleepy smile tugged at Jon’s lips,

“Love you too.” Putting the glasses away onto the nearby side table, Gerry themself snuggled closer until he was curled around Jon protectively. Just like back then. Not because Jon couldn’t take care of himself, no. But because Gerry always had been taller and more scary looking. And in the privacy of their youth bedrooms, it had simply been because it felt right.

It was dark out, when the both of them woke up again. Tangled together and still pressed close with Jon’s wide ankle skirt acting as sort of a blanket. After the initial surprise, Jon’s expression turned soft. Gentle and fond as he trailed his fingers down Gerry’s face. Blinking sleepily, Gerry hummed,

“Depending on how late it is, you up for pizza?” Instead of answering, Jon decided to first pepper Gerry’s cheeks with kisses. They were giggling under him, before he relented and sat up,

“Sounds good to me. But maybe we should turn on some lights before anything else.” Gerry poked him in the ribs,

“Good point. Let me up?” Jon simply flopped down against the armrest opposite to the one Gerry had been resting against, drawing his legs in and sitting sort of sidesaddle on the cushion there. Standing up, they handed him his glasses, before crossing the room to reach the light switches.

“Any preference about that pizza?” While Jon made himself more comfortable, still with his legs next to him on the sofa, he also grabbed his phone, checking the time.

“You still like pepperoni salami?”, he turned to look at Gerry over the back of the couch. Nodding, they returned to the couch but paused behind the backrest, slinging his crossed arms over the top of it and leaning in towards Jon,

“Sure, as if I could ever lose my taste for hot.” His gentle attempt to cup Jon’s chin was met with a playful snarl.

“Well, hot tempered, apparently”, they conceded, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair instead. Shooting Gerry a look, Jon rolled his eyes, turning away and putting the order into his phone,

“Big one and we share?”

Over dinner, they talked about Gerry’s art. Past shows and exhibits his works had been a part of, how he always stood in as one of Gertrude’s assistants to participate without being questioned.

“So there you have it, finally you know all there is to know about both of my jobs”, they nudged Jon’s shoulder. Due to Gerry really talking about his art most of the time through dinner, Jon had eaten probably two slices more than them. Not that he minded, except for Jon trying to snatch the last slice as well.

“Ey!”, they gasped in offence as he immediately bit off the tip,

“You prick!” Jon just grinned, sticking the tip of his tongue out,

“What are your gonna do about it?” Gerry’s expression darkened, glaring at him as they leaned closer, right up into Jon’s personal space. He had the presence of mind to hold the pizza slice away from them, as Gerry growled at him,

“I’ll do something about it alright.” The next moment, Jon blinked in surprise. Gerry’s lips were on his, he could even feel them smiling into the kiss before he sunk against him. As soon as he pulled back, Gerry gave a triumphant “ha!”. Only then did Jon notice he had been robbed of the pizza which they now finished off before he could even grab for it.

“You’re an ass”, he tried for stern, he really did. But with Gerry’s self-satisfied and dopey proud expression, Jon didn’t stand a chance against his laughter bubbling up. Wiping their fingers on a napkin, Gerry grinned down at Jon,

“You love me”, he made sure his hands were grease-free before they offered a hug. Instead, Jon just put a hand to their chest and gave him a shove,

“Yea, I have had better taste”, his fond expression betraying the quip. Gerry let their arms drop, positioning one on the backrest of the couch,

“Careful, four-eyes”, he had leaned in, teasing glint in his affectionate look. Jon played along, snorting and crossing his arms,

“Or what?” On cue, Gerry straightened up to his full height, putting his weight forward and gradually caging Jon in. When he actually did slide back on the sitting cushions, Gerry paused, a questioning expression crossing their face. At Jon’s silent eye-roll and minute head-tilt, he grinned. Using his height to tower over Jon, they even put out his other arm, bracing their hand against the armrest behind Jon. He was fully caged in between Gerry and the couch. Jon visibly enjoying their banter had Gerry smirk down at him,

“Take a guess, doll.” Another amused snort, before Jon huffed and tried staring him down. As that didn’t work, he raised a brow,

“You want a kiss or something to let me go?”, nudging Gerry’s arm with his. Raising a brow in return, Gerry made a show of contemplating it,

“Well… “or something” does sound rather interesting, actually. What are you offering?” Their smirk turned into a grin halfway through.

Jon shook his head,

“God, I hate you”, before stretching up to kiss them. Relaxing their arms just a bit, Gerry still blocked Jon from standing up with his body while the two of them kissed.

“Sure you do”, he gave a quick peck to Jon’s cheek. Sighing, Jon looked around himself,

“You’re gonna let me go or what?”, he didn’t really sound happy to ask,

“I really don’t want to take the underground any later into the night than I have to.” He sighed, deflating a little and looking down at his skirt. Gerry felt their own shoulders sag at that, shifting his weight they sat up. Still close to Jon, they shifted until he sat next to him, letting their arm slide down onto his shoulders,

“Then don’t?” His shrug sort of worked to pull Jon in against their side again,

“It’s late, the weather is probably shit anyway…”, they turned to look at him again.

“I don’t want you ending up in an unsafe subway situation. You don’t have to leave just -“, Jon interrupted him.

Jon’s expression had darkened, not in the playful way from before but honestly threatening, which also carried in his voice,

“Gerry…” They slowly withdrew his arm, affected by Jon’s tone. Nonetheless they kept close, his shoulder still touching Jon’s. Trying to comfort him against whatever this sudden shift was, Gerry kept their tone gentle,

„Just offering, Jon.“ With grumble, Jon turned away, pushing them back in the same move. Finally getting up from the cushion, Jon wrapped his arms around himself, trying to mask it as crossing them.

„Just…“, he pushed his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes with both hands, resignation settling into his shoulders,

„Stop the aggressive flirting for a moment, please.“ He turned back to Gerry, the defensive bristling long gone. Gerry stared, the sudden uncertainty in their expression was laced with worry. His shoulders sagged as they deflated with the tentative hesitance suddenly washing over him.

Clearing his throat, Jon regarded him with a deeply exhausted look, making him look even older than what the grey-white strands of hair accounted for,

„You know just as well as I that you won’t get me into bed.“ Despite chewing on his bottom lip, his face was set, signalling every way he could that this wasn’t up for debate.

As soon as the shock released them, Gerry gave a half-hearted shrug, feeling awkward all of a sudden,

„Not my intention. I would never try talking you into sex, jeez. I just …“, unsure how or if to continue, he wrapped his arms around themself. With a deep sigh, they looked up at Jon again,

„I would love if you stayed the night and slept over. Is all.“ Trying for a friendly smile fell short anyway.

Hesitantly reaching out a hand, which ended up just hanging in the air between them, Gerry shook his head,

„I’m sorry if it sounded like…“, their hand dropped back to his side,

„I’m sorry.“ Jon blinked, taking in their pleading expression and overall non-threatening, suddenly timid posture. Jon’s voice sounded foreign, somewhat husky, even to his own ears,

„Of course.“ He shook his head, stepping back towards the couch, towards Gerry,

„I’m sorry.“ Offering Gerry his hands, he gave a weak smile,

„You’re right and I overreacted on a false assumption. I just… met some bad apples over the years…“ When Gerry’s face fell anew, this time with worry on his behalf, Jon huffed, retracting one hand to wave the thought away. With a questioning look, he stepped even closer to them, until he could hug him to his stomach.

„Of course I know you would never pressure me. I promise you, I logically know that“, he pressed a kiss to the top of Gerry’s head.

[theyre-just-blocks]

What if I said I’m working on a Royalty AU?

I saw the concept of a royalty AU for the SMP and my brain just had to start thinking up of all kinds of things and now, several documents of  planning, character references, timelines, war outlines, and plot ideas later, I’ve got a single chapter. 

I don’t think I’ll post it to A03 or anything anytime soon because the whole thing is still a WIP but I’ll put a part of the chapter underneath the cut if you wanna get a sneak peek into it. 

It loosely follows the events that happen in the smp, but I’ve changed several things to make this AU a little more of it’s own, separate of the story it’s based off of. So the characters and the character relationships/dynamics are pretty much the same, it’s just events are switched around a little.

I’m wary about starting it because I know I might not finish it, but I have so many ideas for it and so maybe I’ll have just enough motivation to finish this one arc.

Hope you enjoy the little snip bit!

Eret sighed, pacing back and forth in their office as they muttered under their breath, the scraping of their grand purple cloak just a little louder than the muttering and whispering. 

In a few days time, all the families of the main Kingdoms would arrive in the SMP Kingdom to discuss terms of possible peace. 

The thought made Eret shiver in both excitement and nervousness. 

Most of the kings that Eret would meet with were no strangers to war. Unlike him and Emperor Schlatt, these kings had seen constant fighting between kingdoms for years. And though Eret and Schlatt were both new, younger kings, they still grew up during those tragic times, they still knew about the terrors of war. Eret ruled through a few years of war during the War of the Seasons and they knew Schlatt had fought as a knight through the war as well.

And though relatively peaceful now, the Badlands and the Redstone Kingdom used to be ruled with ruthless dictators before the current kings took the throne. Being a demon of sorts, King Bad had been around for a long while and would wage war on neighboring kingdoms just to have some fun. It was how he was able to expand his territory so quickly, consuming anything and everything in his path before Eret’s grandparents had to put a foot down during the Diamond War by offering information on the Antarctic Empire in exchange for King Bad’s promise to not expand any further. 

True to his word, Bad took the information and used it against the Antarctic Empire to acquire the little resources of gold and gems that they had and continued to mess with the other kingdoms in evil fun before meeting King Skeppy who seemingly brought some sense to the demon. After their meeting, the Badlands backed off from war directly and instead focused on building up their kingdom in the new territory they acquired. 

Meanwhile, the Redstone Kingdom was notorious for causing devastation and destruction due to it being ruled by Creepers, an explosive creature native to the Redstone Kingdom. They were known for being the spark to light the fires of war, destroying other kingdom’s monuments and blaming another for the doing. Several wars started because of them before Sam took the throne and vowed to try for peace, hiding his Kingdom away and watching as the others fought each other from a distance. 

But even then, the rest of the kingdoms would force Sam’s hand into war, asking for resources, asking for help, and Sam had no choice but to listen and led the kingdoms a hand or two. It was how the kingdom grew into the absolute wealthy powerhouse it is now. Even if blood wasn’t spilled on their lands, they were just as guilty of bloodshed as everyone else.

And there was no one more guilty than the Antarctic Empire. With the rise of Emperor Philza and his twin sons, the Empire proved to be a brutal force to be reckoned with. What they lacked in territory and resources, they made up in strength and warriors. 

So often they started wars in hope of expanding territories and so often would they fail to accomplish their goals in a way that was satisfying to Philza. But time and time again they started up fights and battles, usually with Philza and his son, Technoblade at the frontlines.

Manburg, on the other hand, was a newer Kingdom. It had broken from the SMP territory and fought for independence brutally before Eret’s grandparents gave up and moved resources to fight the Antarctic Empire instead, leaving them to build up their Kingdom on their own. 

What had started out as “L’Manburg” quickly rose to power despite having such little territory. In wars they often teamed up with the Antarctic Empire, as the two shared the similar lust for expanding their territories. 

Schlatt had come to power near the end of the Great War, called so due to the magnitude of the war. All the kingdoms had been involved with it, even the Badlands and Redstone Kingdom, each of them determined not to be wiped off the map. 

Nobody said it, but everyone knew that Schlatt used the war to his advantage. He used his skills to gain power as the King, not earning the crown through inheritance, but rather through a silver tongue and perhaps a silver blade into the former King’s back. There wasn’t much proof though on the issue, but he got the throne and fought viciously in the war as a knight alongside his older sister, bringing great power to his kingdom and changing the name from ‘L’Manburg’ to just ‘Manburg’.

They were just coming out of the time of the Great War. A temporary truce had been called out between the five kingdoms, each of them too tired to continue and too low on resources to want to risk anything else. Marburg had the death of the Queen to worry about and the rest of the Kings had children to look after, as Eret believed sons had been born to both the Manburg and Antarctic Family during that time of war. 

With a sigh, they rubbed their temples, stopping in their pacing. They knew that it was risky to stop all the fighting and hope for peace after the summit, but after about a year of relative peace between the five Kingdoms, they believed they had a shot. 

For two weeks, the Kingdoms would interact and talk things out. Perhaps treaties and alliances could be made between them all after they spent that much time together. Eret had hope that things would go well, as it was a good thing that all Five Kings agreed to meet and bring their families to Eret’s castle to spend the two weeks in. 

It showed a level of trust between them. It showed that the Kingdoms trusted Eret and each other just enough to agree to this Summit without thinking that it was some kind of trap. 

“And if anything,” Eret muttered, looking up at a painting of their parents hanging behind their desk, “I’m sure they’re just as tired of war.” 

They sighed and gave a light shake of their head. Everything had to go perfect, nothing could go wrong. There couldn’t be any unnecessary tension or fighting, or another war could be well on it’s way. 

“My Majesty,” the voice of the head of Eret’s knights, Captain Puffy, pulled the Ruler out of their thoughts. 

Turning around, Eret saw both Puffy and Hbomb, the highest ranking knights, kneeling before them in silver armor. 

“Yes?” Eret asked, clearing their throat of the sounds of worry. 

Standing, Puffy gave Eret an easy smile. “We’ve just gotten word that the Kings and their families are on their way to the Kingdom. The first should arrive two days from now.” 

Nodding, Eret smiled, “Perfect, is everything in order?” 

“We’re working on it,” Puffy answered, “but I can assure you that everything will be ready by the time they arrive. You’ll have nothing to worry about.” 

Eret gave a sigh of relief, “Just what I wanted to hear. Thank you Puffy, thank you Hbomb,” the two nodded, “you are dismissed.” 

The knights gave their Ruler a salute, a fist to the chest, before turning and taking their leave out of Eret’s office.

Eret’s smile faded as they exited. Walking slowly over to one of the large windows overlooking their expansive Kingdom, Eret stood with their hands behind their back, a single hope hanging from their lips,

“You’ll have nothing to worry about…”

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; don’t run from me river

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: nines filed the results of the system check to the back of his mind, to be analysed later, and sighed. he wasn’t originally programmed to sigh, but he sure did it alot nowadays. he sighed once more. this check would most likely return like the previous few, [ all systems optimal; functionality: 100% ]. so why does his processor stutter, causing him to freeze and catch his voice in his throat, when he was around you? there was only one logical explanation: he was broken.

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful  laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between the detective and i. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get the detective’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not dense, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to get shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

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[unholyretributioncomes]

How I Would Bring Back Ben Solo

I keep seeing stuff about Ben Solo not being dead. Now I love the character, and I wish he had a better redemption arc than he was given, and was allowed to live so he could properly atone for his mistakes and work to fix them. But bringing him back has to be done even more carefully. So here is what I currently have for that story- including satisfying arcs for the characters who were stripped of everything that we loved about them. Note: this is a WIP. It is in no way finished, and the intended arcs I have for each character has not yet been written for fully fleshed out.

These arcs include Finn finding a purpose for himself outside of Rey and war. Rose getting some proper closure and maybe having a similar arc to Finn. Poe dealing with post-war stuff including prejudices and trauma. Chewie and Rey being a proper family.

1) Possible comic or animated series. A one movie or three might not be enough or would allow for too many essential cuts

2) While the focus would be on Ben Solo, have regular cuts to Rey and the others

3) Make sure it is clear that this isn't just him getting closer, it is also him atoning for anything he has done as Kylo Ren

4) The story: Ben Solo wakes up either on an Exegol looking area (where he "died" at the end of TROS) or some other dark, empty space that is fairly featureless and void of any other signs of life.

He begins looking around for Rey, and only barely being able to Force, is only able to tell that she is in fact alive and well.

Sensing something off about this place, he grabs the lightsaber that is with him (at first it seems to be Luke's but later on possibly is revealed to be Leia's either by similarity in look or some sort of veil that had been shielding it, though that is revealed later on) and proceeds to look for a way out.

Thus begins his journey.

Cut to Rey.

On a planet, possibly with the group, but is taking some time to herself to meditate and reflect. She then feels a familiar presence: Ben. She calls out to him, but receives no response, only able to feel him there. A member of the group arrives (Finn or Chewie) and asks her what is up, and in their talk, she is able to realize that Ben Solo is alive and somewhere out there in the Galaxy and she declares she is going to go find him.

Cut back to Ben.

Everything is looking exactly the same and he is feeling more lost by the minute. He pauses to take a break as it is clear he is either still exhausted from the fight or been walking for hours. He then feels her: Rey. He calls out, but also receives no response. He calls again and again (possibly only seeing a flickering, weak image of her) before he gives up and gives his voice a break. Loneliness sinks in.

Sliding to the ground, his mind starts to process what has happened. He thought he became one with the Force, but that doesn’t seem to have happened. That temptation to the dark is still there, but he is more stable in the light. He is completely alone. There aren’t even any bodies of dead Sith or the Knights of Ren. He begins to wonder if this is his punishment for the things he did while consumed by the dark.

A voice echoes through the emptiness, one he has not heard in person in years, but knows anywhere: his mother, encouraging him to get up. He leaps to his feet and looks around, but doesn’t see her. He hears her voice again, telling him to keep going, and that she is waiting for him.

Without a second thought, he begins running towards his mother’s voice, calling out to her, and while never receiving a direct reply, is continually encouraged by her voice.

Cut back to Rey.

She has shared her discovery with the group (Poe, Finn, Chewie, BB-8, R2, C3PO, and possibly Rose). Finn and Poe and understandably upset by this revelation and when Rey suggests they go after him, are adamantly against it, Poe even going so far as to say that wherever he is rotting away in both body and mind, that it is what he deserves.

Angered by this Rey begins defending him, saying that if Luke can turn Darth Vader to the light and back into Anakin, then why shouldn’t Kylo be allowed to become Ben again as well. Poe argues that while Luke managed that, Darth Vader died before anything could come of it so it wasn’t like it mattered for any other reason than a good story.

Rey bites back that if Ben is indeed alive, then unlike Vader and Anakin, he has the chance to work to atone for his sins and deserves the chance to right his wrongs.

Poe stands firm that whatever fate Kylo Ren is facing is likely the one he deserves.

Rey tells him that she is going to go out looking for him, with or without anyone’s help and nothing will stop her from doing so.

After some silence as Rey waits for reactions/replies, Chewie stands and proclaims he will go with her and they can take the Falcon. 3PO and R2 are instantly on board with this as well. Eyes turn to Finn, waiting to see what side he takes.

Finn, still attached to Rey as she was the first person outside of the First Order he spent more than a few hours with, struggles to agree as he does feel similarly to Poe and also feels that attachment to Poe. With some coaxing from BB-8 (Either having learned to speak Droid or having it translated by 3PO) he agrees to go.

Poe is angered by BB-8’s seeming betrayal and goes on a rant. But after some more coaxing he eventually agrees to go on the condition that he gets one free hit in if/when they find him.

Rey smiles and they begin preparations to go searching.

Cut back to Ben

His mother’s voice has since faded, and he has slowed to cautious steps as he continues on his journey. Surroundings still haven’t changed and he questions if he has been going in circles and having seen no other paths, begins debating if he should maybe start trying to find a way to climb up.

Sensing danger, he ignites the lightsaber and begins combat with whatever comes to attack him.

When the fight is over, a voice compliments Ben’s form in the fight. Ben turns and there is Luke standing there. Ben lashes out and tries to kill Luke despite clearly seeing him as a Force Ghost.

Luke asks him the source of his anger and Ben yells at him. That Luke tried to kill him for things he hadn’t done yet. That rather than sit him down and talk with him about it, tried to destroy something that had yet to actually become a threat. That he was never given the chance to choose.

Luke tries to apologize, but Ben ignores him, and with his saber still lit, begins to continue to walk. Ben doesn’t want to deal with Luke, ghost or otherwise.

Cut to Rey

Rey starts her journey by doing research. She talks with people who knew of the Jedi and other records to see if she can find where Ben might have turned up.

Poe helps with some of his more powerful Resistance contacts, though many are busy helping to rebuild the Republic, so getting a hold of them isn’t easy. Maz, however, is a godsend and shows up when she hears Rey is studying something specific.

She asks what is going on, and Rey and Chewie explain that Ben is alive. That Rey can feel him still out there, and unlike Luke or Leia, he isn’t a ghost. And that in trying to contact Luke, she met another ghost of a Jedi named Obi-wan Kenobi, who she had only ever heard about, and he confirmed that yes, Ben is alive.

Maz is certainly surprised, but joins the party to help find Solo’s wayward son, commenting on how much Ben is actually like Han and of course he would be too stubborn to die.

While this is being explained, Poe looks over to Finn who seems rather distant and not quite paying attention. Poe asks what’s up and Finn tries to brush it off.

Poe pries because Finn has been zoning more and more since the war ended. Finn relents and explains that he has been thinking about the past and about the future. He explains how all he had ever known was the strict regiment and warmongering of the First Order before Poe came along and after defecting, while he did finally get some affection, he mostly got the passion and determination of the Resistance, both busy fighting war. He has never known his life without war or the threat of war.

Poe listens and asks Finn what he wants to do. Finn says he doesn’t know. He knows there is really no chance that he will ever find his parents and very little chance that he will ever even know what planet he was taken from. And now that there is no more fighting, he doesn’t even really know who he is. Just that FN-2187 is gone and Finn is someone he has yet to really figure out.

Poe reminds him that everyone with him sees him as family, and that even if he can’t find his birth family, that he has one here. Finn assures him that he knows that, but that maybe having something to go on for his past that isn’t all about soldiering might help him figure out what he wants to do with the future.

Rose understands the feeling as she has been having similar problems, torn between trying to live a comfortable life, or do something that might be worthwhile, and that all the plans she had originally thought of had all involved her sister in some way and now without her, she isn’t sure she can go through with some of them.

Poe then explains that he will talk to some other of his contacts and see if they can’t find something for Finn, such as maybe a list of systems the First Order preferred to take their soldiers from. Finn gets a little excited and thanks them both.

Cut back to Ben

The area is quiet, Ben has stopped running, and a fog has settled over the area. He can see the walls around him, but cannot see forward and cannot see back. He has the saber ignited and is taking cautious steps, trying to sense everything he can in his surroundings. All around him are whispering voices. Voices that are very familiar to him. At first their whispers seem to be about nothing, and occasionally giggling, but then they seem to notice Ben.

They at first start whispering about him, making comments on how he has gotten older and maybe lamenting they wish they could have too. Then their comments turn bitter, and they start talking about negative aspects of him without talking to him.

Ben tries to interact with these voices, and the area suddenly gets very cold and the whispers harsh. They do start talking to him, angry at him, wind blowing around him as if someone is trying to push him this way and that. In their anger they ask if any of the good times, the good memories they shared meant nothing to him.

Ben asks them who they are and they are insulted that he has to ask.

The fog fades away and he is surrounded by the ghosts of other students at Luke’s Jedi school. They are the students that he killed. They all begin shouting at him, at first taking turns before their voices sync to fully cry out their anger at their deaths.

Ben, knowing he has no way to justify his actions towards these students, begins frantically apologizing and asking how he can prove his remorse, covering his ears as the voices drown out his apologies and over-taking everything else.

The saber has fallen from his hands, going out in the process, and he sinks to his knees as he feels suffocated by the shouting.

In an instant, everything goes silent. Ben hesitantly lowers his hands and raises his head to see the youngest student of the school before him, all the others standing behind them, just looking at them. The youngest asks him if he is truly sorry and if he really regrets it.

Ben says yes, explaining how wrong he was about the dark side. That he never should have done what he had done to the students, and that he wants to be better. He can’t take back what he has done, but if he could, he would in a heartbeat. That he never forgot their deaths, and despite his efforts during his dark times, could never shed the guilt of them.

The youngest asks if he truly means that, will he promise to be better. Will he promise to try and help people if they forgive him.

Ben, still on his knees, tears in his eyes, says yes. His voice is quiet, but his words weighted with all the sincerity and guilt and remorse that he has.

The ghosts smile at them and the youngest bends down and picks up his lightsaber before handing it to him. “Then keep going. We forgive you.”

With a shaking hand, Ben takes the lightsaber, looking at it before looking back at the ghosts as they all fade away leaving him alone. He takes a moment to process what has happened, what he just experienced before letting himself cry, the guilt of his actions digging into his chest, clearly causing him pain, but also feeling a great sense of relief and like a weight has been taken off of his shoulders. One of these emotions alone would be too much for anyone, but both of them together keeps him from even being able to stand.

 -unwritten section-

After searching for so long Rey finds the answers she had been looking for and heads with the group to go and try to find Ben.

 As Ben reaches the end of his journey and is about to enter the land of the living, he is stopped by one more battle. Before him are four figures dressed in black, all of whom he has seen before in some fashion. One is the grandfather he idolized: Darth Vader. One is the man who had twisted his mind for years: Snoke. One is Puppeteer behind all of pain the galaxy has suffered for easily the last half-century: Palpatine. And the last one is the one that both takes Ben by surprise, but also the one he had been preparing for: himself- or rather- Kylo Ren.

Kylo steps forward and begins talking, voice distorted by the cracked mask. “Did you think you would be free? Did you forget the power of the Dark Side? There is no escaping the Darkness! You belong to the Darkness and therefore- to us!”

Leia’s saber in hand, he ignites it and braces, as the four figures do the same. Knowing the power of the people before him, he is expecting this to be a losing fight, but he is still going to put his heart and soul into it.

“Nice to see we’re not too late.”

The slightly gravely voice catches Ben off guard and makes him turn. They have the telltale blue glow of those passed on, one in the Force. Appearing on either side of him, each facing a member of the Sith that are blocking his path, are his real grandfather- Anakin ready to face Vader. His mother, giving him a loving smile and placing an affectionate hand on his shoulder as her eyes harden in an all too familiar look when she is about to eviscerate someone, a look aimed at Snoke that visibly shakes the Sith. And either Luke or Padme who their weapon in hand and facing Palpatine, making a comment about not making the mistake of letting this man live to walk away again.

With these allies, the fight begins. Snoke falls first as no amount of power can fully brace this being for the extent of a mother’s wrath while she protects her child.

Palpatine falls next. Luke/Padme doesn’t dilly dally, doesn’t give him the chance to brag or monologue or charge up an attack. He is executed plain and simple.

Vader is next. Given that he is kind of fighting himself, Anakin does struggle as he knows all the moves and has to change his fighting style and strategy a little bit. The kill is quick, but comes after a bit of a fight as Anakin is laying his regrets and the darkness in them to rest with the end of Vader.

Finally Ben is left with Kylo. Blue clashes with red in quick and angry strikes on both ends. Kylo taunts Ben constantly about the dark side and how it took him over. About how he will never be free of it and no one will ever truly accept him. It is a very hard fight, but one he must fight alone. It ends when Ben swings and cuts part of the mask off, revealing his own face, which stuns Kylo for a moment, before Ben without hesitation runs him through declaring that it doesn’t matter if the rest of the galaxy forgives him, the people that matter to him do and most of all, he forgives himself.

Once Kylo falls, and his body disappears, Ben gets a small reunion with his family. Han shows up for this brief moment and after some hugs and praises about how proud they are of him, as well as promises to be better and make the galaxy better, he is ready to leave, though his eyes are wet and red.

He goes through the final portal/ door, and the first thing he registers is he can’t breathe.

 Above the lake/ ocean of the ancient site, Rey and the others are looking down, trying to find where Ben is.

Rey suddenly feels him, strong and sure as if he were next to them, and she points them in the right direction where a light can be seen under the water’s surface for the briefest moment.

Unable to really truly swim, neither Rey or Finn can go down. Rose is handed the controls and Poe and Chewie open the hatch of the Falcon and once ready to get pulled back up, jump into the water.

They find Ben, close to the surface, but still under it, and pull him out, before being raised to the Falcon where Rey immediately starts calling out to him, noticing he is very pale, and his whole body is cold, as if dead.

Poe raises his fist before slamming it down hard on Kylo’s chest making the man jolt at the sudden pain before coughing up water. Poe grins at Rey before looking at Ben. “Just so you know, that doesn’t count as my free shot.”

Ben looks confused as he is finally able to focus his vision, but before he can do anything, a big, wet, hairy being his holding him almost too tightly, making it difficult to breathe. Despite the suddenness of it, it is one that -while soggy- is instantly familiar and one he is quick to return and relish.

Chewie finally pulls away before smacking Ben upside the head, just barely hard enough to hurt before going into a long lecture that has Ben smiling fondly at the Wookie.

When he looks at Poe, confused, Poe holds up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea. Besides, it’s her you should be thanking.” He points at Rey and prompts Ben to look at her. “She’s the one that never lost faith in you.”

Que Rey and Ben reunion.

[tapswitcher-theoneandonly]

Unfinished DJ Works

It's been a rough few days for me and I've had to deal with scummy people. The first of these unfinished stories is a vent work from that, and I decided I'd post it alongside others I haven't finished. I really do love these DJs and they bring me a world of joy so I might as well post my unfinished or WIP stories to here rather than AO3. I hope you guys enjoy them too, these writings are one of my main ways to cope. :)

I also address in these my headcanon that Blue is one year older than Yellow, and that Yellow is uncomfortable seeing Blue as a student and not an equal to him now.

Without further ado, here's a bunch of ideas that either went nowhere or ran too short, with these: ••• separating each individual story.

The mattress dipped. Blue twitched as he felt a head bury into his back.

“Hi,” he half-laughed, reaching around himself to touch Yellow’s face. “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

Yellow grumbled something incomprehensible into his boyfriend’s skin. The warm smile briefly left Blue’s face, replaced with a frown of concern.

“Long day?”

Yellow made no attempt to respond, but judging by the way his head was bobbing up and down, brushing along Blue’s shoulder blades, he assumed that was a nod of confirmation.

“Everything sucks today,” he mumbled, loud enough to be heard clearly.

Blue rolled over, much to Yellow’s dismay. As soon as the two were face to face, the other DJ again buried his head against Blue, this time on his chest. One of Blue’s hands drifted to his back.

“Aw, Deej, what happened?”

“Dumbass people making dumbass comments,” Yellow replied with a deep scowl. “Some of the people who come through the DJ School are real pieces of work, you wouldn’t believe what this one guy said about couples like us—“

“I can imagine,” Blue hushed him. “There’s been hostility all over lately.”

“I’m so tired of it... it’s seeping into everything, everywhere I go...”

“I know, Deej,” Blue nodded, beginning to rub his back in a comforting circle. “I know.”

Yellow cracked a small, tired smile. “At least it’s not here with you.”

“You know it never would be.”

“That’s why I’m glad to be back,” Yellow suppressed a yawn.

There was a pause, the two DJs sharing in the silence of their darkened bedroom. Yellow quietly laced his fingers with those on Blue’s free hand.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Blue’s cheeks might have turned red, but that was far from the only part of his face that lit up. There was no mistaking the astounded glimmer and pure joy shining in his eyes as Yellow said those words.

“I...” Blue laid his chin atop Yellow’s head. “...I love you, too.”

•••

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Huh?” DJ Yellow pulled himself away from the door to the stage, facing the crate his boyfriend was sitting on. “What do you mean?

Blue swung his legs anxiously, finding himself unable to look Yellow in the eyes. He grasped idly at the frame of the crate, not caring that the splintering wood was beginning to dig into his fingers. Another dull roar came from the crowd in the packed venue outside, and his shoulders arched.

“I,” Blue’s voice crackled. “I’ve wanted to perform with you and all, but now that we’re here, I don’t... I don’t know if I’m ready. I’m just a student under you.”

“Hey,” Yellow placed a hand on his shoulder. “We left that label back at the DJ School. You’re not my student, you’re my partner, now.”

“Besides,” Yellow added with a wink. “I’m not really comfortable being called a teacher to someone older than me. How ‘bout a mentor?”

Blue grimaced up at him. “Oh, whatever, I’m older by one year. What a difference. You’ve had plenty of ‘students’ who are twice our age and you’re saying you’re uncomfortable thinking of me as a student?”

“All I’m trying to get across is you’re way more experienced to be calling yourself just a student to me,” Yellow folded his arms. “If I didn’t see you as a partner, I wouldn’t have said you were ready for this gig.”

“I’m just scared I’ll drag you down.”

“You?” Yellow cradled Blue’s face in his hands. “Never. I know this is about to be the best show I’ve ever worked.”

“...How can you be so sure?”

Yellow giggled. A melodic, soothing sound that somehow melted away all of Blue’s tension, filling him with that comforting warmth only Yellow could ever provide. A smile involuntarily snuck onto his face. Yellow’s good humor was just so infectious!

“Because I’m with you. And everything’s better when you’re here.”

“Kh—“ Blue’s face practically glowed a shade of pink. “Oh, stop!”

“It’s the truth!” Yellow laughed. “So we’re gonna go out there and give that crowd the hype they’ve been waiting for! Right?”

Blue sighed, though his smile did not falter. His hand drifted to Yellow’s, which he grabbed and held tight. “Right.”

•••

“Dinner,” Blue called, nudging open the bedroom door. “Didn’t you get my text?”

Yellow didn’t budge from his computer, though his head did tilt ever so slightly in his boyfriend’s direction. He continued clicking away at his audio mixing programs like a madman and gave a halfhearted: “O-oh, sorry, I must have missed it.”

“Is there some big gig coming up for you?” Blue asked as he made his way further into the room, placing a hand on Yellow’s shoulder. “You’ve been working on this track all day.”

Yellow jolted at his touch and rapidly minimized his windows. Blue recoiled slightly, taken aback by his rather sudden jumpiness. At just a glance, he could see the visible bags beneath his boyfriend’s eyes and the exhausted slouch to his back.

“You need to take a break.”

“Hey, babe, I’m good,” Yellow gave a wobbly smile as he attempted to push Blue’s hand away. “This one’s really important.”

The other DJ folded his arms. “That wasn’t really a suggestion. Look at yourself, Yellow, you’re exhausted!”

“I’ve looked worse,” Yellow grinned up at him. “I’ve almost got this.”

“‘Almost’ with you can mean hours. Come get something to eat, alright?”

Yellow rested his chin on a hand. His eyelids almost immediately began to sag as soon as he did, and Blue snapped right to shaking him again. “You’re falling asleep right now.”

“This is just part of turntablism,” the veteran DJ replied, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll be doing this, too.”

“For six hours?”

Yellow laughed, shaking his head. What a funny question! “No, not for six hours, obviously not.”

As Yellow returned to his computer, he could still feel eyes baring into his back. A feeling of dread washed over him—the same kind he felt nearly every day in elementary school when a teacher was seconds away from lecturing him. A glance over his shoulder confirmed Blue was still there, eyes narrowed in a look that screamed “wholly unamused”.

“...It hasn’t... actually been six hours. Right?”

The fact that Blue uncrossed his arms simply to sigh and begin massaging his temples was all the confirmation he needed. Yellow clicked his tongue with a nervous chuckle.

•••

Will these drafts ever be finished? Who knows...

Take care out there, things have been rough lately. These were all written for comfort purposes and I hope you find joy in them too. It’s quite the writing dump this time, and these aren’t even being posted to AO3.