#i can feel my divergent obsession creeping back in...

[slashingdisneypasta]

Eric smiling that one time in Divergent after he chipped Tris was truly terrifying. He was just like this the whole movie, making it no secret that he hates everyone-

And then he takes a nail gun to Tris' neck and goes 'well now i guess you're really one of us' and SMILES?? Oh no no no. Red flag. Bad Omen. Abandon ship-

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 11.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 3.8k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

we are back! new act, new header! enjoy!!!

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, graphic depictions of violence, death

story playlist

It was placid in the keep, like the still waters before the dew drips into a pool. But placidity can be deceiving. Aemond knows this– he’s always known it. It is exhausting, as a person, to keep your guard up at all times without respite. 

The previous night was a respite. A much needed change in flow, in focus. But he is suspicious of such a gift– mayhaps he doesn’t deserve it. He has always been damned. This very notion is why he awoke early in the morn from the deepest sleep he’s known in years… to an empty bed. 

Shera had gone. His head throbbed from how deeply the sapphire felt embedded into the socket, pressing at the tender teams of nerves that the maester said makes up one’s eye. He throws his legs over the side of his bed, twisting and turning until his spinal column cracks, somehow giving a sliver of relief.

Mayhaps I shall speak to her. His fingers, blistered from overworking the blade since Aegon was crowned, made quick work of his tunic. His outfit was a simple black undershirt and leather nightcoat. It was early enough in the Keep where dressing properly didn’t particularly matter– Shera’s chambers were a swift enough walk away, anyhow. He made his way hastily to the guest hall, which was bereft of guards. 

Odd. 

Upon opening the door, the momentary feeling of lightness and interlude in an otherwise rigid life, was snuffed out. Snuffed out like the dithering flame upon a bedside table, smoke swirling upwards until there is nothing but coldness. A chill ran up Aemond’s spine that could only mean one thing; something was wrong. 

The room was torn to shreds, blood splattered on the cobblestone floor like rose petals. His mind swam momentarily, heart squeezing in abject horror. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This is wrong. His boot squelched into the still drying pool of ichor as he descended further into the unfolding scene of gore and carnage. All of her things were broken, drawings strewn and stained, her dress stands were pushed over upon one another, and a cup of her tea was left half-drank, liquid absconded to the side. 

Picking up the cup, he inspected the remains of the tea leaves and murky fluid. His senses were overwhelmed by the pungent scent of milk of the poppy– and dreamwine. The leaves were soaked in the duo of medicinal regents, the combination of both only used in dire situations of pure agony, intended to keep the imbibed numb to pain— as well as the world around them, lulling them to a deep sleep and even a deeper sense of malleability. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

A low growl filled the room, Moongeist emerging from the adjoining bedroom. His hackles were raised, lip curled, showing off his bloodstained teeth. The whole of his muzzle was caked in the stain of flesh. 

“Where is she,” Aemond spoke, glowering at the giant wolf as if he were nothing more than a pup. “Where is she?” 

Moongeist’s hackles lowered as he sniffed the air, snapping his mouth shut. His amber eyes roved towards a mass in the corner of the room.  ‘Twas a man. Dead, with the fingers on his left hand ripped off, and his windpipe torn out. Aemond shifted the corpse with the tip of his boot, his expression dimming even more into a scowl. 

“I don’t give a shit about this sod,” he hissed to the wolf, his pupil constricting into a tiny orb hoisted over a violet sea. He knew he looked mad— he could feel the madness creeping further and further into him with each passing moment that he didn’t find Shera. “You didn’t do your duty, dog.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The wolf whined, a warbling noise that turned into a growl as he nosed some of his master’s strewn items on the floor. 

“You’re useless!” Aemond’s voice raised above its usual whispery tone, the rage bleeding into him like he was a stuck pig. “You had one duty— to protect her,” his hands balled into fists, unsure whether he was yelling at the dog or himself. “You fucking failed.” 

His own visage caught his eye on the shattered mirror. He looked crazen, as if he were to sprout wings and claws like Vhagar and burn the world down in search of her. 

Mayhaps he would. 

—

‘Tis so quiet, she thinks. So quiet— like death. Am I dead? 

She walks along the darkness, soles skimming a pool of cool water. There’s ripples in her wake, reverberating out into nothingness. She feels fine. It’s disconcerting, in a way, how normalcy in itself can feel abnormal. Shera is able to stand steady on two feet without assistance or hindrance, her sight wide and clear as she gazes to the void. 

Death isn’t much like they say it to be, now is it? Not so cold, but not so fiery either. 

A glint catches her eye— the infinite void to her side has formed itself into a door. Not just a door, but a hallway with a myriad of cracks of light. 

A myriad of choices. 

Her hand stills on the knob closest to her. It is ornate bronze, deep grooves worn into the metal from much use. A small twist, and the gateway gives in. 

The sunlight is blinding, more bright than she remembers. There is a pleasant sting in her eye as it adjusts from the total encompassing darkness of nothingness to the ever growing, lilting palette of everything before her. 

The place seems familiar but Shera cannot quite place it, as if it is an amalgamation of many places she’s been before— so close to perfection but in all totalities completely wrong. It was a garden with all of the flowers in bloom, grapevines growing up the trellising walls to escape, to mayhaps grasp the sun. There is a faint scent of sea air and she can almost feel the spray of a rogue wave crashing against the seawall. 

Bare feet pad onto the cobbled walkway deeper into the terrace, fallen petals wilting under her. She leans to a honeysuckle plant, rubbing its leaves between her thumb and forefinger. Upon closer inspection, the flower is home to insects. 

No, not home. It is made of insects. 

Beetles, millipedes and caterpillars writhe under her touch. The flying bugs buzz around her, their fussing akin to anger, their temper flaring with every step of her trespassing. 

“‘M sorry,” Shera whispers, hastily wiping her hands down the front of her chest. “‘M sorry,” she continues as she slowly backs away, back the way she came. As she makes her escape, the garden oasis withers. It begins to decay before her eyes, maggots and blowflies feasting on the rotting remains of the plants. 

Back into the darkness, she slams the door behind her. Just before it fully closes, the image of a barn owl crunching upon a locust is her final glimpse.  The errant buzz of parasitic and opportunistic gnats rings in her skull like a taunting song. She almost trips over her own limbs as she backs away slowly, stomach wringing itself into knots. 

Onto the next door, the knob is a curved ring, better suited for knocking rather than just opening. It would be rude to come in uninvited, wouldn’t it? 

Shera wraps the door three times, each wrap more thunderous than the last. The door is hewn from an odd red wood, the hinge creaking as she walks in. It’s suddenly warm— not unlike the warmth and breeze of King’s Landing, but decidedly different, the hum of a distant roar reverberating in her mind. 

��Hello,” a small voice piqued. It belonged to a young girl, no older than six years old. Her hair was a pale silver, violet irises wide with trepidation. “Are you one of Ser Willem’s friends?” 

The appearance of the girl struck Shera like a bolt of lightning— she was of Valyrian descent, surely, but she didn’t recognize her. She shifted her weight uneasily between two feet as she stared at the child. “Ehm,” she muttered. “I am, indeed— a friend of Ser Willem’s.” 

The girl held her hands behind her back and mimicked Shera’s nervous swaying, but in a decidedly more childlike fashion. “He is sleeping. He sleeps a lot,” she said, tilting her head towards a hallway. “Would you like to see my room?” 

Something in Shera’s chest rattled against her ribcage as the child spoke. She felt a certain keen sense of terror, feeling that she did not belong here. And yet— she took the girl’s hand in her own as she was led down a corridor. 

“I have my very own room. I usually have to share with my brother or with a lot of other people. Sometimes it is not a room at all,” the girl pauses, tugging Shera gently to the open window. “I even have my very own window. I like to look at the lemon tree.” 

“Do you like lemons?” Shera asked, staring at the one lone lemon tree that stood stalwart. 

“They are… yucky by themselves. Viserys tricked me into biting into one like an apple,” she pouted. “It was quite mean.” 

Viserys? Shera’s heart floundered. “Viserys? Is that your brother?” 

The girl nodded. 

Shera did not recall Viserys and Daemon having a sister. Her mind swam as she stared at the girl, then the open window. “You must forgive me— I have forgotten your name.” 

“Daenerys. My brother calls me Dany.” 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. In learning High Valyrian with Aemond all those years ago, they had also extensively studied the winding circled wreath of the Targaryen family tree— as muddled and messy as it may be, Shera could recall no Daenerys. 

That creeping fear that had nestled into her body as soon as she saw the girl began to grow— grow into an ever engulfing beast. ‘Twas the same feeling she had when she saw the vision of Rhaenyra and Viserys talking about Aegon’s dream. The feeling that she was trespassing on something, being somewhere she was never meant to be. 

That sensation gripped her wholly, her body moving faster than her mind as she fled Daenerys’ room, towards the red door that led out. 

“W-where are you going?” Daenerys whimpered, following behind Shera quickly. “I’m sorry— did… did I do something? Please don’t go.” 

Shera turned the knob, stepping halfway out of the abode and into the darkness. She looked back at Daenerys— she was engulfed in flames, shadowed by a hulking black mass of writhing scales and dread come again. 

When she fled back into the abyss fully, the red door closing behind her as flames licked the wood, her consciousness faded. 

She was done dreaming.

—

The twisting of her rings was a nervous habit that Rhaenyra never broke. It would be a fruitless effort to do so, as she would pick up some other compulsion in a similar fashion. Tearing out strands of hair from the root, pressing crescent indentations upon her skin from her nails— or mayhaps, picking the skin around the nail bed until they are red and bloody. That one seems familiar to her. 

Her hands now, however, aren’t occupied upon twisting her rings at the moment. They’re splayed over her stomach, palms playing over the stretched skin. The maesters say she is due any day now, ‘tis only a waiting game. 

How she desires for a daughter, so wholeheartedly. 

Something pulls at her. The hour is late and Daemon’s side of the bed is cold, blanket still in the same position from the morning. It's an odd, inexplicable tug to something that has her out of the room and meandering down the hall with a candelabra. The shadows dance upon the ancient stone, casting light upon the deep cracks. 

As she descends through the castle, the logical and queenly part of her mind is in protest of her current situation. A heavily pregnant wife shouldn’t go looking for her husband in the middle of the night. And yet— the other part of her brain, the one that had an insatiable thirst for truth had her driving forward. 

Hushed voices hummed low towards the sequestered guest chambers. From the inflection and cadence, one of them was Daemon. The other, hurried and blathering like an anxious mouse, was unknown to her. 

“Y-you set us up for failure, Daemon! I nearly lost my own life— you didn’t tell us of the beast!” the mystery voice quipped, quivering in pissant fear.

“Pity you didn’t lose it, then. I told you what I needed from you and what you needed to do. Any other extraneous details are unnecessary.” Daemon responded coolly. 

Rhaenyra walked closer to the open door, heavy candlelight illuminating from within. She hastily blew out her own. 

“Unnecessary? You’re mad! Outright bonkers! I… I want double the pay— n-no, triple! As compensation for the hazard to me life!” 

“You’ll receive what we agreed upon.” 

“I need more! Or— or I’ll go back to King’s Landing and tell the King what happened! He’s fond of that little thing, isn’t he? Or mayhaps his brother, with the giant drag—“ 

The man’s voice was cut off, silenced by what Rhaenyra could only assume was a blade. The sound of his body crumpling and soft gurgling confirmed it. She stepped into the room, fisting her skirts. The mystery offender was now divorced from his head, akin to the way Vaemond had been. Daemon was wiping the blood and viscera off of Dark Sister upon the bedsheet. The bed in question, however, was not unoccupied like she had thought it would be. 

The small, crumpled form of Shera Stark, identified by the undone length of curls falling by her wayside, was unconscious upon it. 

Rhaenyra blinked profusely, heat rising within her as she tried to piece together exactly what was going on. 

Daemon let out a soft sniff, “Bloody idiot.” 

“Daemon? What… what is this?” 

“What does it look like? The key to the North.” he sneered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rhaenyra’s hands came together as she loosened the ring on her pointer finger. “She does not look like she is a willing participant in being here.” 

From the looks of it, the girl was hardly breathing. Her chest rose and fell in such shallow lengths that it took a moment to register if she was even alive at all. 

“I doubt she would be. I did what needed to be done.” 

“What… needed to be done? No, I don’t think you’ve begun to count the errors you’ve made here. Did… did you even think of the consequences, Daemon?” Rhaenyra started, her face emanating a red-hot heat, only continuing to warm as she twisted her ring with a violent, fervent nature. 

“Consequences? I’ve brought her here to solve our problems, Rhaenyra. Do you think that honor-bound Northerner Cregan Stark would still fight for you as Queen if you broke your oath to keep his sister safe? He very well may kiss Otto Hightower’s hairy sack just for his sister to return to him. We won’t win this war without the North. And we won’t have the North without the girl.” 

“There is no war yet! I am still awaiting responses from Alicent on how we may resolve the… misunderstanding of crowning Aegon in my stead. You… you’ve only fanned the flames of something you have been brewing for years against the Hightowers. Cregan is an honorbound man, he swore an oath.” 

“I am merely thinking ahead, Nyra! Oaths are broken as easily as they are made. Alicent is no friend of yours any longer, you’re no longer a girl! As if we can count on any lies coming from that cunt. You have a blind side for Alicent, Rhaenyra, you always have!”

“And even so— you’ve stolen Shera in the night. From what your… accomplice said, ‘twas a messy fight. What do you think, my half-brother Aemond shall think, when he comes upon Shera’s rooms in disrepair and bloodied?” She narrowed her gaze, trying to keep a hold on herself. “You’ve brought ruin to our doorstep. We both know what he is and what he can do, you know he favors her— all he has to do is mount Vhagar and rain fire upon us! You have invited that possibility to our home, to our family!” 

Daemon was silent for a moment, jaw clenched and lip twitching ever so slightly. He glanced over at the unconscious girl, brow furrowed. “We need to satisfy the oath you made to Lord Stark. The betrothal will be fulfilled,” he kept wiping his blade on the sheet, even far after it was clean. “They must marry on the morrow.” 

“The oath,” Rhaenyra echoed, voice suddenly hollow. “Marry— she is not even conscious, Daemon. She won’t even be able to recite the vows or cut Jacaerys’ lip.” 

Her husband let out a scoff, a sound so synonymous with who he was. “There won’t be a Valyrian ceremony, even if she was completely well. Needn’t any more Andal blood mingled than is already necessary,” he finally sheathed his sword. “It will be done as quickly and painlessly as possible. Lord Cregan will need to hold up his side of the oath forthwith.” 

Rhaenyra worried her lip between her teeth until she tasted copper. “You cannot make these… rash decisions without coming to me first. I will not tell you again, Daemon.” 

Daemon, surprisingly, acquiesced— verbally, at least. He stared at her for a few heartbeats with a hard glint in his eye before bowing out of the room. 

— 

He had no need for riding leathers, no need to put his hair up, no need for his eyepatch. All he required was his sword and his rage. 

Servants and highfolk alike plastered to the walls as Aemond parts through them like a ship’s masthead, whispers and aghast looks glazing against his hull. He isn’t calculated and cold like usual, as is his reputation around the Keep. His aura is rash and filled with churning lava, sparks threatening to singe any who stray too close. 

The wolf follows behind him— for a reason that Aemond cannot quite understand— Moongeist stays five feet behind him, but matches his fervor and drive. The pair of them are an unlikely duo— and yet, they are unmatched in their combined terror. 

“Where are you off to, brother?” Aegon interjects suddenly, flanked by his newly appointed Kingsguard lackeys. The crown sits low on his brow– coming back from a council meeting where he most likely received a tongue lashing from mother and grandsire alike.

“I’ve need of something,” Aemond answers, words short and clipped. 

Aegon’s brow raises as he inspects his brother, seeing Moongeist’s hulking form behind him. “You know what they say about lying with dogs, brother,” the king continues, in his faux laissez-faire tone that he is ever so fond of. “You will get fleas.” 

“They took her.” the prince said— flatly, dejectedly, detached. The single strand of self control still tethered within him straining. The thread was unraveling bit by bit with each word, each moment wasted.

“… what?” Aegon whispered, the varnish of his empty words fading away. 

“They. Took. Her.” Aemond repeated, looking up at his brother. 

Aegon paused, no doubt feeling the heat and blood rising within him at the revelation. “W— wh—,” 

“They took her right under our noses, Aegon. As if she was a dessert for a child to pilfer,” the prince’s hand flexed and unflexed, itching for his sword. “I am going to retrieve her.” 

“Retrieve her? And do you know exactly who took her? Where she’s been taken to?” Aegon leaned in, brow knit. “Or are you just planning to abscond on your dragon and burn down Westeros until you find her?” 

Aemond did not respond for a long moment. “You and I both know who did it. And you know they lie right across the bay upon Dragonstone. An easy enough conquest for Vhagar.” 

“What shall you expect upon your arrival, brother? For Rhaenyra and Daemon and their endless brood of brats to kneel at your feet? ‘Oh, please, we are so sorry for taking your ambiguous lover, please don’t burn us!’” Aegon’s hands clasped together in mock sympathy. “You and I both know that Daemon would rather incinerate everything around him than kneel to you or I. Mayhaps even his own wife.” 

“Something must be done, Aegon. They will think us— me— weak for letting them waltz in and take what is mine.” Aemond continued to pace, his body spun tight like a taut spring, half ready to bolt through the hall at a moment’s notice. With each passing moment, the copper spring strains as his patience lowers and his rage simmers.

“It is really disconcerting when I am the levelheaded one here, Aemond,” the king continues, stopping his brother’s pacing with a firm hand to his shoulder.

“So you propose we do nothing? Let her lie in that den of… traitors?” 

“I never said we would do nothing.”

— 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The neverending sound of water splattering onto the floor is the ballad of the ancient castle— most of it in disrepair and ruin from the hot malice of dragonfire. 

“A raven arrived from King’s Landing, early this morn,” the pageboy offered the slightly damp letter to the current castellan, Ser Simon Strong.

“Aye, thank you Tomas. Be sure to get yourself some porridge, keep your bones warm.” Simon grinned, the deep wrinkles of his face lifting in mirth. He split the seal which was embossed in the symbol of some bug or other— he couldn’t quite identify which house the sigil was from. 

His eyes scanned the paper, which was not addressed to him. Rather, it was addressed to another resident of Harrenhal. The scriptures upon it was not of the Common dialect, only bits and pieces of words with some odd runic language.

“Alys!” the older man called. “I know you’re skulking about out there. I believe this letter is for you.” 

Peering from the doorway behind him, a woman slunk to his side, her movements swift and precise. Her sudden and quick appearance caused him to jump. “Aye? What makes you think it’s for me?” she hummed, tilting her head in a bird-like manner. 

“Your name is Alys Rivers,” Simon pointed to the addressing line of the letter, the name ‘ALYS RIVERS’ spelled out in the common tongue before the rest of the script becomes nonsensical. “Is it not?” 

“Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” Alys blinked, tugging the paper from the lord’s fingers. “Hmm.” 

“I presume you can read that hogwash, can ye? Wouldn’t surprise me none, you’re a very odd woman.” Simon waved his hand to dismiss her. 

She took the dismissal in stride, slipping out of the chamber like she had never been there in the first place. Unfolding the letter completely, most of which was in the Old Tongue. 

To Alys Rivers, 

ᛏᚺᛖᛁ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚲᛟᛗᛁᚾᚷ. ( THEY ARE COMING.) 

ᛈᚱᛖᛈᚨᚱᛖ  ᛁᛟᚢᚱᛊᛖᛚᚠ (PREPARE YOURSELF.) 

[lilacella]

The first chapter of the wolfstar fanfiction, that I started to obsessively write last night. Will put this on ao3 as well once I get my invite code since I appear to have forgotten the login to my old one. So this will have to do for now.

This has 11 chapters and stretches over the time from them falling in love in Hogwarts, over the years trying to navigate their relationshiph right to the end of it. There will be some Angst but overall it is fluffy and there's gonna be a (somewhat) happy ending (depending whether you stop after 9 o go through 11 as well).

Taglist: Canon divergence (no voldy, no war), Fluff, Wolfstar, Background Jily, Angst (it's Wolfstar after all).

Additional tags might apply on each chapter. I will put any warnings at the Title.

Nightsky

Song recommendation:

Chapter 1: The tale of the two idiots

Next

Sirius wasn't entirely sure when it had started.

Maybe that time in 4th, when Remus had fallen asleep over his books in the common room and Sirius had noticed just how sweet he looked, when he was sleeping. Tie askew, strands of brown hair sticking to his forehead, one hand still wrapped around his quill.

Or maybe in 3rd, when Remus made a remarkably funny pun and made Sirius laugh so hard, that he almost choked on his breakfast.

Or maybe even in 1st, when Remus almost fell off his broom during flying class and Sirius grabbed the other boys broom to steady it, receiving a shy smile in return. A smile that would make Sirius heart flutter without any reason or merit.

Whenever it may have started, Sirius certainly could not deny it after 5th, when Remus had forgotten his silencing charm during a very private activity that Sirius now happened to overhear, causing interesting new layers to the whole issue.

Since then his head had been filled with thoughts of Remus. About his smile, his laugh, his voice, his smell, his hands, his...well you can imagine. Suddenly, being close to Remus made him unbearably nervous and queasy. A feeling that he was not quite used to and did not care much for. Sirius had to admit, that maybe he had a problem. A problem that he had vowed to keep to himself.

Of course keeping problems to himself was easy, he had year long experince with biting his tounge at family dinners to avoid being hexed to his chair and silencioed overnight - a punishment that his father had developed a taste for since he started talking back. There was just one tiny, tiny issue with this. The issue had unruly hair, glasses, an unbreakable ego and the uncanny ability to read Sirius thoughts right out of his head.

"So you do fancy him then?" James asked tentatively. Sirius felt the heat creep over his cheeks to his ears.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped and sped up his pace so James had to almost jog to keep up with him.

"Oh come on pads, I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you, okay? I was just wondering, since lately you've been so..."

"So what?" Sirius stopped abruptly and spun around, facing James. He shouldn't be running from an issue, he was a Griffindor after all! James, a bit taken aback by the sudden change of direction almost bumped into him.

"Well, you know," he ruffled his hair. "Just kind of...you always look at him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I look at Lily Evans I suppose. I mean, of course I don't know what I look like when I look at her, but you look like I imagine I look like. You know? It was really just a thought, don't be mad."

Sirius sighed. As if he could be mad at James. And he was right. He did fancy Remus. Merlin, just thinking it felt terrifying.

"And what if. What if I did?" he asked quietly, not looking at James and staring past him instead.

"I suppose that's alright? I mean there's nothing wrong with him. He's a nice guy."

"So...it wouldn't bother you?"

James laughed. "Why would it bother me? I want you to be happy, mate." He jovially slapped Sirius arm. Then he got serious. "Where you worried about that?"

Sirius clicked his tounge in annoyance.

"Come on pads, there is nothing you could do to...to make me like you less. You're my best friend! I don't care who you shag."

"I'm not shagging anyone! I just...I just got a crush on him, that's all. I'll ignore it until it goes away." James didn't seem very convinced.

"I think you should just talk to him. Maybe he likes you back." Sirius snorted.

"Are you insane? I can't just tell him! It's not that easy. You wouldn't just walk up to your crush and..." He trailed off. His point was moot. James smiled triumphantly.

"See? It is actually not that hard, just ask him out."

"Just ask him out. What would that even look like? 'Hey Moony, wanna go to Hogsmead with me? No, not with the others, like just you and me. On a date.' He would think I am trying to prank him!"

"Hmm, I guess you're not completely wrong about that...but what if...what if you just sit him down and..."

"No. I will not do anything of the sort. I will just wait it out. This can't be going on forever."

"Right."

Sirius sighed. Then suddenly his eyes narrowed.

"You can not tell him. Do you understand? If you tell him I will be so incredibly mad at you. I will..." he thought about an appropriate threat that would ideally not make any of them suffer too much. This was James after all. "I will not listen to any of your Quidditch ramblings ever again!"

**

"So you just don't like anyone? Are none of the girls good enough for you?" Lily asked teasingly playing around with her quill. Remus groaned.

"I came here to study, not to be quizzed about my lovelife."

"Hey! I am just trying to get know my boyfriends friends. Nothing wrong with that." She smiled sweetly.

"You have known me sufficiently since last year, I believe. There is really not that much interesting to learn about me." He  shuffled uncomfortably on his chair. As happy as he was for James to have finally made it with Lily - she was asking to many questions. And there were certain things that he wished to not share with her under any circumstances.

"Sure, and you seem like a decent guy to me. So no reason to spend such a fine day studying all by yourself."

"I am not by myself though, aren't I?" The reply sounded much more snarky than he had intended and he hoped that Lily wouldn't take it personally. She didn't.

"Sure sure but I'm sure there is someone who you'd rather be with right now?"

There was. And she couldn't find out about him.

"What about Henrietta Morrison? She's nice."

"I don't think she's my type. And I don't think I am hers."

"So what's your type then?"

Goddamit, she got him. Be vague, be vague.

"Uhhh I don't know. Dark hair, intelligent. Tall..." What was he doing. Lily looked at him intently.

"You know who that sounds like?"

"No," he replied sternly and tried to hide behind his book. This was a desaster. A slender finger appeared in front of him, gently but firmly lowering the tome to expose his face.

"Remus," she asked gently. "Is it Sirius?"

Remus winced. Why was she so good at this?

"Please don't tell anyone. Especially not James. If James knows, Sirius will find out immediately."

"Not if I ask him not to tell him," Lily said decidedly.

"He doesn't have to, they're like some sort of hive mind. If one of them knows something, the other does to." He sighes.

"So you don't want to tell him?"

"What?! No, of course not! Lily, are you mental? He would never like me. Have you looked at him? He is so...fucking handsome and smart and funny..."

"And mean and arrogant."

"Yes, but I kind of like that too," Remus admitted and buried his blushig face in his hands.

Sirius could not find out. There was just no way he would ever like him back.

[nantilusa]

The Rhapsodise; All shall be Harmonious Again

She ventured down a divergent road, where delight wore a novel face. She took the gospel of novelty he gifted, treating each twist of fate as mere casualties. consumed those scenery as a sketch of comedy misadventure at first, making no attempt to make any interconnection that in stages, and without her being aware of it, guiding her back to tranquility and ease.

Now she is walking in and take her risk, dancing in the joy that rising as high as her knees.

…

The foxy naked eyes staring at mine at the half four in the morning. Those eyes feels like a single star that offered a magnitude amount of affection, fondness, and warmth.

He whispered few question about myself, then we talked randomly about anything. The conversation goes very interesting. We ignored the tiredness, the heavy eyes, and continue telling each other about all ancient echoes of events that happened in our life.

His story unfurled with a cascade of daring exploits, his dreams where vulnerability and courage dancing harmoniously in the middle of it, his family, his obsession with reggae along with masculine things and the resonance of sound systems, and the unspoiled wonders of nature. He told his fleeting fascination with the cosmos as well, enthralling me with a tidbit of celestial Alpha Centauri and Proxima Centauri that illuminating the sky as the third-brightest star that trailing only behind the luminance of Sirius.

I, too, shared my own story. An account of the side of me that eternally thirsty for the novelty in life, how I engulfed myself in the enormity of something unreal, the collection of questions since time immemorial, the chart of stars, the flip of tarot cards, the rhythm of Mercury in retrograde, the chronically online personality of myself that intricacies in the complexity 4.0 of my mind.

Those sharp eyes never stops filled with enthusiastic stares, occasionally chimed in our conversation with jokes, gave more bread and questions along with the burn of new cigarettes. As the clock's ticking seemed to liquefy, it infused our conversation with an added layer of gentleness. Our eyes brimmed with enthusiasm, remaining vigilant as the sun itself stirred from its brief slumber.

…

The fresh line started with a series of amusing escapade. He brought me from the old restaurant, invited me to mingling with more place to go and discovering new nourishment. Charged and conversing me with bags of people. Subtly step aside with watering hole that felt like a comforting echo of what I yearned for the most.

As far as I can tell, he has consistently exhibited a haphazard, spontaneous, and unpredictable nature, which for me serves as a new refreshing palette of colors. His opinionated mind and unique perspective that reflecting his inner spirit shines through the tenderness from every conversation we had. Laid my eyes and changes my viewpoints on him as such exquisite beauty that is worthy of my sight.

I discovered a sanctuary. The familiar things from him gets conflated in the subconsciousness with the notion of safety in my mind. More like an incredible feeling of comfortable as I can confide anything to him without fear of judgment or harsh word, and profoundly, he has some sort of a high-ranking in showing his affection towards me.

A bauble of joy took over my life, fluttered like ribbons of elixir until the pernicious defenses comes again like a creeping seep, pressing my foot and annihilates my bold confidence to trusting this brand new amicable story. It’s giving me a cue about the taste of contentment, pleasure, and cheeriness in each new story begins. Jog me with the frightfulness of unpredictability and complexity. Filled me with the eerie of tasting the leisure as I realized it as something cliche.

The final bubbles, on the brink of my rationality, left me pondering what lay ahead for me. The boat of questions and the waves of sinister grow dim as I form an idea that life is undeniably a sequence of unforeseen twist and turns, so why not I align my path instead of questioning the enigmatic silhouettes that linger beyond my gaze.

I’m wondering if it was the right choice or just another instance of me impulsively leaping without considering the consequences, or this might be simply be another pattern of me avoiding the solitude season in my life once more. Nevertheless, I realize that life lies in the art of surmounting obstacles, therefore I let myself collect this unpredictable string as an amorous freedom as it if a sail of an elegant dance with the turbulent waves.

Complexity continued to assail me, accompanied by the anamnesis that tread upon the pages of concluding chapters and the ballet of changing seasons. Within those pages, I discovered the weight of excessive dependence and expectation, placed upon the once-giant livid couch, unbeknownst to me that my own toxicity had vandalized it.

The thought of closure endearing in my ears. Perhaps the closure that I need the most is something that force me to begin a new start, for myself. Verily, I sealed the tome's timeworn pages, then dipped my quill to inscribe upon the pristine canvas of a new chapter. Get under the way with a new pen and fraternize my things.

The first line goes with an arrangement that I just need to let the liquor, but not through my veins again. Walking carefully, but not like I’m in the chase of the police. Shifted my mind from autopilot to a state of mindfulness, cautious but be fond with the journey. Softening the moment as a plot that containing an instrument to navigate my descent, to at least cease the self-pity and commence my fresh chapter.

Now I’m owing to the fact that perhaps life is profound lessons have empowered me to rise from the plummeting plane and decisively flick the switch of fate. Perhaps the show must runs, and grant the right to me to show off in a different scarlet letter. Perhaps this season grasped me to embarked my perpetual journey of growing and transformation of mine.

Like a tranquil, expansive lake, I held onto that fleeting glimpse, yearning for solace on its distant shores, drawn by its delicate beauty, because I know all will be fine and I surely will be a fine line.

[ruinedsam]

ok so here is my Sam kills Lucifer fic. Lucifer's characterization isn't really in line with with what we see in s13 but this is my fic and I can make him do and say whatever I want :P I happen to be obsessed with Lucifer creeping on Sam and taunting Sam and Dean with his and Sam's relationship and generally trying to throw a wrench between them so that's what he's doing here.

13x23 canon divergence, gen, angst, canon-typical violence, tw for non-consensual touching and implied/referenced rape/non-con. If you don't think Sam is supremely fucked up I recommend not reading this.

Also put it on AO3 with literally the most unimaginative title ever

“Jack!” Sam screamed as Lucifer was sucking out Jack’s grace and desperately rushed towards them, because he needed to get Jack away from Lucifer. He reached Jack just as bright light began to emanate from Lucifer, forcibly shoving him away from Lucifer. It didn’t matter that he was now right in front of Lucifer, all that mattered was that Jack was away and Sam hoped, wished Jack would run away as fast as he could.

Lucifer glared at him furiously as white light streamed around him, and Sam could feel the coldness of Lucifer’s grace enveloping him. They were caught in this moment, time stretching out agonizingly, but then a familiar sound broke through, touching something deep within him. ”Sammy!” He felt a touch on his back - and then he was gone.

He landed on a cold stone floor, a familiar weight pressing on his side. Dean. Clutching Sam’s shirt, a determined look on his face.

The feeling of relief quickly turned into horror. Dean shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in the vicinity of Lucifer.

“Sammy. You alright?” Dean asked frantically as they got on their feet, but Sam couldn’t find it in him to answer.

They were in a church. Of course. This was the kind of thing Lucifer thought was hilarious.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you Sam? It’s like you need to be close to me,” Lucifer smirked.

Dean pushed Sam behind him, and Sam let him because he was weak.

“Listen, you - “

Lucifer rolled his eyes and with a flick of his hand Dean flew into the air and crashed into the wall, sliding motionlessly to the floor.

Sam’s heart missed a beat.

"Dean!" he yelled in panic and tried to run to him but Lucifer blocked his way.

“Have you been missing our chats, Sam? Is that it?” Lucifer taunted. “No need to be jealous of Jack, I have never forgotten about you.”

Sam felt sick.

“That’s not -” he stuttered.

“Because otherwise you have stood in my way despite all the mercy I have shown you.”

Lucifer stepped closer and closer as he talked until he was standing directly in front of Sam. Sam didn’t think, he just pulled out his angel blade and pushed it into Lucifer’s chest.

"Really, Sam?" Lucifer said disappointedly. The sword turned to smoke and faded away without him even bothering to lift his hand.

"I think you've forgotten your lessons."

Sam stumbled back, terrified, but Lucifer had a tight, cold grip on his arm, making him stand still. He reached out with his other hand and brought it to Sam’s neck. It burned. It burned ice cold, the way only ever Lucifer could, and Sam screamed. He could feel a symbol forming on his neck, branding him, and though he didn’t see it he knew what it was: The enochian symbol signifying Lucifer.

"No!" he cried or maybe begged and felt tears running down his face. "No, no, no."

Lucifer smiled mockingly. "So you do remember what it means. Good boy."

"Get away from my brother, you - “ Dean’s voice cut through the agony and Sam’s blood froze. He couldn’t bear Dean seeing him like that.

Lucifer turned around and flicked with his hand and Dean fell silent, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Dean halted and touched his throat in shock, glaring at Lucifer in utter hatred.

"Now that is better," Lucifer said. Another flick with his wrist and the ceiling above Dean gave up, debris falling down. Dean tried to dodge, but he wasn’t fast enough, debris hitting his legs and pinning him down, Dean's face twisting in pain.

“That is a better look,” Lucifer murmured self-satisfied, looking up to the hole in the roof of the church.

“Dean,” Sam cried helplessly but Lucifer was still standing in his way. Lucifer laughed and gave him a vicious, triumphant look before striding towards Dean and Sam knew: Lucifer was going to kill Dean, here and now, right in front of Sam, making him watch because he knew that was the single worst thing he could do to Sam.

Sam couldn’t fight him, couldn’t kill him, couldn’t do anything -

Couldn’t do anything but get Lucifer to focus on him.

“I didn’t tell Jack about you,” Sam said and Lucifer halted, his head snapping in Sam's direction, interested. Emboldened, Sam continued. “Not anything. Because - you never mattered to him. And that’s not because of me or Cas influencing him, that’s just Jack. Since the second he was born, before I ever spoke to him he didn’t think of you as his father. He realized before he was even born that you were not worthy of him. He flat out told me you are nothing to him.”

Lucifer roared, his true voice coming through, pure fury etched on his face and turned fully to him. Sam shuddered, trembled, the dread threatening to choke him, but he knew he couldn’t stop. If he stopped now, he’d never be able to speak up. “You are nothing to God or your brothers who let you rot in the cage, and you’re nothing to heaven and hell but a failure, you are nothing to me - “

Lucifer looked at him and Sam stopped, closing his mouth shut.

"Do you really think you can lie to me?" he hissed, striding towards Sam until he was so close they almost touched, and Sam couldn’t move. “I'm not Dean. I know you. You were made for me. Your body - " he ran a hand proprietarily down Sam's chest and bile was rising in his throat, he could almost taste it, "-your soul, it’s all mine. I've been inside you in every way possible. I have torn you apart and remade you so, so many times. I know every part of you - intimately. Every atom, every thought, every pathetic little feeling.”

Sam squirmed, flayed open, the terrible, awful truth laid out there for everyone to hear. (For Dean to hear.)

He wanted this to stop. He wanted to scream and shout and hide. He wanted to -

"In fact, why don’t we show Dean here whose you really are?"

Lucifer slid his hand up to Sam’s shoulder and pushed down. Sam went on his knees without even thinking about it.

"I don't need to possess you to control your body," Lucifer murmured. "You know it’s mine anyway."

Looking up at Lucifer, Sam thought about Dean and Death’s scythe and instead of the usual terror this memory brought with it, warmth was flooding through him as he imagined it was Dean standing above him about to kill him instead of Lucifer tormenting him for his sick pleasure. (His body wasn’t his own, but if it had to belong to anyone, it should be Dean’s. It would be right if the last thing he saw was Dean.)

As if Lucifer knew what he was thinking about, he grabbed Sam's chin, forcing him to stare directly in his eyes before cupping his face. When Sam closed his eyes in agony, Lucifer didn’t let him, sliding his hand into Sam's hair and pulling painfully so that his eyes opened wide.

(This was what he got: him and Lucifer, again. And it would take a long, long time before Lucifer was going to let him die.)

"And I know every little thing in here. Spending centuries together will do that," Lucifer said smugly. “Poor Sammy,” he mocked, “always on the outside, excluded, always the least liked, the problem, the freak. Hard to love by people but wanted by monsters.”

The words burned like acid. Sam couldn’t see Dean, couldn’t see anything but Lucifer. Like old times. Some things never changed. Him and Lucifer, caught in this never-ending torturous game where no one ever really won.

"I know about your useless shame and guilt. I know all the things you tuck away somewhere deep in there because you don’t want to think about them. I know every secret you ever had.” He let out a mocking laugh. “I know all the misery and pain your beloved Dean,” he spat out these two words like they offended him and kicked Sam with a sudden move, making him fall on his back, “has caused you." Then Lucifer was right above him, straddling him, a heavy, horribly familiar weight on Sam’s chest, glaring menacingly down at him.

A please no laid on his lips, but Sam swallowed it down. He couldn’t fight, but he could deny Lucifer this. He breathed in shallowly and pressed himself against the floor in a futile attempt to escape Lucifer’s touch -

- and he saw something glean in Lucifer’s jacket. His archangel blade.

“You refuse to think about it because if you'd face it, you know it would tear you apart,” Lucifer crooned. He raised his voice. "And it's a lot, believe me, Dean. The whole childhood you love to remember so fondly, for Sam it was pure misery. Always looked down upon, always made feel unloved by the family that proclaimed to love him, like he was a stranger in his own family. Why do you think he was always so keen to get away? And the whole Gadreel thing? He's never going to forgive you for that."

He stroked Sam's hair, a horrible parody of intimacy. Sam didn’t know what he wanted more - for Lucifer to shut up or for Lucifer to stop touching him.

"How could you? Big brother never even had the decency to apologize, rather went off on a mad hunt and got himself the mark of Cain than to accept responsibility for what he’s done.”

Sam hated, hated Lucifer for talking about this, because this was in the past, something Sam didn’t think about anymore, something he and Dean had decided to let go. Most of all he hated Lucifer because this was something he had thought. (And Lucifer knew it. Because Lucifer knew him.)

“But it's not like you could leave him alone, could you? Dean-o is a bomb going off as soon as you're gone. All this rage, all those people...you know better than anyone he's a danger to the world. Dean here thinks he's still a hero, and you let him believe that, but deep down you know better. You know big brother's a monster - you just don’t care because you love him."

"No,” Sam cried. He shouldn’t talk, shouldn’t catch Lucifer’s attention, not now that he had seen a way out, but he couldn’t help himself, he had to make sure. "No, it's not like that," hating the way Lucifer twisted his feelings into this. He had never thought of Dean as a monster. Never. "I never thought that. Dean -"

“Don’t even try," Lucifer said coldly. "I know everything about you Sam. How you think about your brother...and me," he snarled."I know you think of me all the time. I'm in your dreams, I'm in the back of your head, I'm a part of you. I know sometimes you wake up and are surprised you’re not with me. You will never be free of me."

"I know," Sam said. “You ruined me.” Then, in a flash, he slid his hand into Lucifer’s jacket, grabbed the archangel blade and stabbed Lucifer into his chest.

Lucifer's face turned from triumph to shock and pain as the blade slid between his ribs.

"But the thing is, I know you too. You never stop talking. You can’t help yourself. You have to rub it in, how powerless I am to you. You’re too up your own ass to pay attention.”

Sam twisted the blade. He could see the rest of Lucifer's grace burning him up from the inside, and Lucifer's face was a grimace of pure agony, but unlike any other angel Sam had seen die, he didn’t scream.

"If you think Jack’s not my son, think again," he rasped. "Why do you think you got attached to him so quickly? You recognized that part of me. I live on in him."

Sam twisted the blade again, and this time Lucifer couldn’t retain a howl of agony. There was a brilliant white light, and then the limp body of Lucifer fell on Sam.

Sam felt suffocated, barely able to breath. He frantically pushed and clawed at the body above him until the heavy weight was off him. He wheezed and gasped, shrinking back from the figure next to him.

He stared at it, trying to comprehend what just happened.

Lucifer was dead.

He laughed or maybe cried, feeling hysteria rising in him, and stared and stared, refusing to blink because he was afraid if he looked away even for a millisecond, it wouldn’t be true anymore.

This was easy, a voice in his head whispered. Too easy, don’t you think? Sounding suspiciously like Lucifer, it continued. Do you really think you can get rid of him that easily? Does that not seem like one of the games Lucifer loves to play?

Sam looked down. He was still holding the bloody blade.

Without thinking, he crawled towards the still body and brought the blade down on Lucifer, stabbing him once more. And again and again and again, blood pounding in his ears, feeling a kind of elation he hadn’t felt in a long time -

- until a hand grabbed wrist, stopping him.

“No!” Sam tightened his grip around the blade and clenched his fist, prepared to fight whoever was trying to stop him -

- then he looked up.

Dean. Oh.

Dean used his shock to wrestle the blade out of his hand and throw it away.

“No! Let me -”

The blade landed on the floor, clattering loudly.

Sam came back to himself, the red mist in front of his eyes fading away. Lucifer’s body was a gory mess, blood splattered around him, some of it even on his wings.

Sam forced his gaze away from him. He was panting, he realized, his chest heaving. His face was wet from tears.

Dean opened his mouth but still no sound came out. Frustration flashed over Dean’s face before he schooled his features and gave him his I’m gonna take care of you look. He looked Sam over like he had done a thousand, no, a million times before, searching for injuries.

His gaze caught on - on the thing on Sam’s neck, Dean reached out, but Sam jerked back. “Don’t!”

His stomach churned. He couldn’t bear Dean’s touch. Not now. Not with - not with Lucifer’s brand so visible on him, unmistakable proof that Sam was - unfixable. Broken. Lucifer’s.

Dean slowly raised his hands as if Sam was a skittish animal. Then, in a sudden move, he grabbed Sam and pulled him into his arms.

“No - “ he struggled but Dean held on tightly, almost bruisingly, until Sam gave in and slumped onto Dean. He knew what Dean meant with this hug. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. Maybe even It’s over. Sam wanted him to be right more than anything. He buried his face in the familiar curve of Dean’s shoulder and held on as tightly as he could.

Lucifer’s mark on his neck burned.

A/N: you know what I thought this fic would require you to imagine both Sam and Dean are basically superhumanly fast runners to get to Lucifer in time, but then I rewatched the scene and this is actually really plausible if everyone had not just mindlessly stood around as Lucifer made his speech and took Jack’s grace.

[lambourngb]

Day 2: AU get me out of here - places to go when canon is complicated

It’s Day 2 for @roswellnewmexicocreate, time to celebrate those stories that I turn to when I can’t deal with canon, or when I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle all the emotions I have for what’s going on in canon. Alternative universes, the safe harbor for us. Below are a mix of rewrites of canon, remixes of canon, or out right not even set in Roswell- to fill every type distance you want from canon- from near to far.

and the howl of the desert carries me home by @christchex​/ @michaels-blackhat​ (4,334) Alex runs into the desert to escape from his father with his guitar clutched to his chest. He plans to spend one last night playing before his father destroys it. Instead, he meets a cute boy with flowers in his curly hair and a lizard on his shoulder. He exchanges a song for a smile.

why i like it: I love everything about this story. Michael is totally a disney princess, and what a lovely way to save him from foster homes, but have him run away to the desert and use his alien powers to build his own little protective world. Looping in Nora’s plant powers like that, giving Michael a little animal friend, I love it all, but the show stealer is Alex Manes, playing music to coax the mystery boy out. It’s just incredibly soft.

***

Heartbeat series by @adiwriting ​ (133,000 - in progress) During the lost decade, Alex gets Michael pregnant and Michael doesn't see or hear from him again for the next four and a half years. When Alex comes back to town, he discovers he has a daughter with Michael and they all have to figure out how to be a family.

why i like it: it has it all, installments with angst, installments with fluff, I can find whatever mood I am in by just pouring over this incredible series. I really don’t even like mpreg, but in RNM, with aliens it seems a little more probable to me and bless Britt, she goes light on the details but heavy on the kid aspect of it. I absolutely love Alex in this story, he’s richly characterized as a man who is trying hard while wandering unfamiliar territory like aliens, like being a dad, like being Michael’s boyfriend, and he doesn’t always get it right, but he’s loved regardless.

***

tonight we are young @skinsharpenedteeth (8,137) Alex and Michael ditch the Evans' New Years Eve party to find their own fun and Alex gets his New Years kiss...(the underage tag is because they're both 17 in this.)

why i like it: I’m a sucker for teen!Malex, especially stories that take place before the shed. I love this little AU where Alex is thinking about making a move, but hasn’t yet. They are both adorable nervous babies, this feels very much how a softer teen!Malex first time would go. Perfectly characterized here, you can just feel the hopeful vibes they have at 17. I like to believe nothing bad ever happens to them again.

***

you shift on a gear (it’s been a long year) by @backinmybodymp3 (28, 362) “Good morning,” Michael says. “What the hell did you do?” Alex asks, exasperated. (or: There were times, in some of the lower moments of the past however-many-days it’s been, where Michael had thought about what it might’ve been like to share this time loop with someone. He never imagined— well, he never imagined it’d be Alex.)

why i like it: I love time-loop stories! And this is just superb. The friendship dynamics of everyone involved, the Liz/Max wedding, Michael being a good brother, Michael trying so hard to keep this bullshit from dragging Alex in and then Alex being his usual reckless self when it comes to Michael, I absolutely dig this canon-divergent au. you can feel how much the author cares about everyone on the show in this story, and they really nail the Malex dynamic. This story came along just as season 3 did and it’s a true antidote to the malex drought on screen.

***

the library by @arielana (9,657)  Alex had stopped too far away to hear exactly what they were saying, but their voices did carry over to where he was standing. The guy’s drawl had a melody to it that was vaguely familiar, but much deeper than the voice it reminded Alex of. God, that and the hair really brought some memories back.  Just as Alex told himself to stop secretly staring like a creep and walk over there, he turned slightly so that Alex got a glimpse of the side of his face.  Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck! Twelve years ago Alex left Roswell to join the Air Force, nursing a broken heart and promising to never return. When work brings him back to New Mexico he runs into someone he’d been sure he’d never see again.

why i like it: the first kiss in the UFO emporium was groundbreaking, but I have to admit, I love stories that explore the almost-happened, where Malex reconnect as adults without the shadow of Jesse’s attack. I love how sharp Alex is in this story, he has all these walls as an adult built from that first rejection, but then he’s so completely unprepared to reconnect with Michael again. The clownery in this story by both of them is perfect! I also totally love Forrest as a gay best friend for Alex, trying to wingman Alex, that cracked me up.

***

stellar light based life by @jocarthage (30,651) It’s not a memory if it’s something you see every day. It’s a trigger and it’s not one Alex wants to ever let go of.Alex saw Michael disappear into a blinding blue light, soft 17-year-old body pulled back into some kind of impossible vortex -- one hand, outstretched.

why i like it: another submission from 2020 RNM Big Bang, this story just wrecked me. I can’t even really put into words about how it hooked me and basically lives in my head now to the point I often mumble the first line to myself. Anyway, this AU takes a right turn at the shed attack, and goes full force scifi and tragic separation, I love it. In so many ways it reshapes Alex’s life but the core of who he is never changes, there’s so many great science geekery details about Michael’s planet and the astronaut journey that Alex takes, plus SANDERS... anyway, this is a fandom classic for me.

***

Crossed Wires by @beautifulcheat, @ladynox (15,351) Michael's been kicked off more than one Starfleet posting. So when he learned he was reassigned to the USS Roswell, he decided that he would keep his head down and behave. This decision is immediately thwarted when he meets her hot Vulcan captain.This might be the first time Michael got kicked off a posting for flirting with a captain.

why i like it: Star Trek AU? I’m pretty easy. Seeing elements of Kirk and Spock’s tragic backstory blended into genius mechanic Michael Guerin and ice prince Alex Manes was amazing. I love how it’s serving with his family that brings Michael to the Enterprise, his bond with Max and Isobel was chef’s kiss good. The blend of Michael’s powers and Alex’s biology - I loved the balance even if it came with its own misunderstandings, but hey, this time it was cultural! lol

***

I’m still here by @vague-shadows @pippsmcgee  (35,928) Treasure Planet AU in which Michael is the gifted young delinquent who found a treasure map, and Alex is a space pirate pawn in his Father's obsession with riches and legacy.

why i like it: I’ve never seen Treasure Planet, but I didn’t need to thoroughly enjoy this AU. This was the perfect mix of angst and sci-fi adventure, where the authors managed to make the shed even more horrifying. Jesse Manes is the absolute worst in this story, the levels of obsession he goes to find a treasure, and then Michael on his own collision course - the ability to write tense action is a gift, and it’s on display in this story. Cyborg!Alex took up a place in my heart and still lives there, where he only gets the nicest things.

If you like any of these recs, please leave a comment on the story or a kudo- a  ‘this was awesome’ is enough to propel an author into the stratosphere with happiness, so don’t worry about coming up with a unique, never before shared insight- sometimes a keyboard smash and emoji makes all  the difference!

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your work!! I am looking for more but unfortunately I feel like I have read all yhe good Harry Potter docs on Ao3. Do you have any recs?

Sorry for the delay, I just know that whenever I make rec list it usually ends up taking a while.

With that, Harry Potter fics are a big genre. Just saying Harry Potter in general really isn’t that specific to me so this is across genres/character focuses/you name it.

Also, as usual, I’ve been on fanfiction longer and have amassed more favorites there. Some of these are cross posted to Ao3. Similarly, a lot are unfinished, this personally doesn’t bother me but if it bothers you take heed.

Also, you’ll see my embarrassing obsession with Tom Riddle. So, heads up for that.

Stepbrother (Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger, period piece, in which the two remind me a lot of Nabokov)

Cat Among the Pigeons (Tom Riddle/Lily Evans, Psycho-Pass Detective AU, in which I am a beta actually so my promoting this goes without saying)

Til Death Do Us Part (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Voldemort wins AU, which for me does very well with the concept of immortality and what exactly Tom is supposed to do after he wins)

This Tangle of Thorns (Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger, modern AH AU, a full on Nabokov inspired fic which I enjoy because Lolita)

Delusional (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, sort of. Harry wins the war, goes crazy, checks into a mental hospital. Or he’s not crazy and Voldemort is as unkillable as Palpatine.)

Harry Potter and the Natural 20 (OC insert, D&D inspired, shameless crack. I mostly enjoy the beginning of this but it makes me laugh enough to recommend.)

A Hairy Business (AU, Harry is a deer, he is literally a deer, that’s it. It’s funny.)

Animus, Anima (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry travels back in time, gets stuck in Tom Riddle’s brain, and it turns out Harry’s responsible for every terrible thing that ever happened. This one was squicky even for me, very well done, but strap in.)

Addendum, He is Also a Liar (Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger, Tom has an inexplicable ability to travel to the future, but only to this random little girl Hermione Granger)

Framed & Fractured (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry gets stuck in an evil painting back in time. Tom is creepy as usual.)

Trying for Eden (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry travels back in time to lecture Tom into morality. It doesn’t work.)

Magical Mirrors (Luna Lovegood and Severus Snape, Luna and Snape stumble on the Mirror of Erised at the same time and strike up a conversation)

Aphelion (Hermione Granger/Loki, MCU crossover, Hermione and Loki strike up the world’s weirdest toxic friendship when Hermione’s young and attending Hogwarts, this leads terrible places as Loki slides into madness and despair)

Wandering Souls (Luna Lovegood and The Undertaker, Black Butler crossover, Luna meets and strikes up a conversation with the Undertaker)

Of Lies Most Beautiful (Tom Riddle, Hunger Games crossover, Tom wins the Hunger Games becaues that’s what he does bitch)

In Wonderland (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry ends up back in the past and decides to raise Tom Riddle. This goes so poorly that the pair almost get eaten by eldritch gods multiple times.)

Rumpelstiltskin, Guess My Name (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Female Harry travels back in time and offers to save Merope’s life/get her Tom Riddle Sr. the non rapey way in return for her firstborn son. Merope thought Harry was joking. She wasn’t joking. In the sequel, also linked, Harry kills Morfin.)

The Eyes (Harry Potter, AU, turns out “the power he knows not” is the power humanity knows not, Harry’s ability to see eldritch abominations and cosmic gods and thus bring them far enough into our reality that they eat everything. And I mean everything.)

Mirror Mirror (Harry Potter, MCU crossover, Harry makes a huge mistake and stops Hulk in the middle of a rampage. This gets him abducted by octopus nazis.)

I See the Moon (Harry Potter and Bruce Banner, MCU crossover, Harry got brain damage from the war and wanders around the middle of nowhere. He runs into Bruce. He’s now Bruce’s only friend.)

You Will Be the Death of Me (Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, Despicable Me inspired, through a series of convoluted events Tom as the world’s worst father figure ends up raising Harry the sad adorable orphan.)

In Death, Standby (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter (sort of, the authro claims), Tom raises Harry, the only Tom raises Harry that I’ve seen done well because Tom is the world’s worst father. Harry thinks he’s a deformed snake until the age of three.)

Little Harry’s Mirkwood Adventure (Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley, Hobbit Crossover, one of the most Tolkien style crossovers I’ve actually seen and is very good)

A (Self-Imposed) Trap for a Fool (Ginny Weasley, turns out Harry Potter never existed, as in he’s a collective hallucination made up by the entire wizarding world)

McLaggen and From McLaggen with Love (McLaggen, a detective AU then a James Bond style adventure starring McLaggen, the greatest wizard who ever wizarded)

Tom Riddle’s Diary: on keeping devils in the summer (Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle’s antichrist orphan adventures involving exorcism and burning people alive)

and the fates sing (hold on, son) (Harry Potter, MCU crossover, Harry is the son of Loki and like all children of Loki he is a wretched and cursed thing)

A Faulty Master (Harry Potter and Itachi Uchiha, Naruto crossover, Itachi after the massacre of his family has a run in with a master of death Harry, who is a creepy creepy man)

Eye of Reason (Harry Potter/Jack Frost, Rise of the Guardians crossover, due to the mythos surrounding his life Harry ceases to be a man and becomes akin to a god)

Flowers for a Ghost (Luna Lovegood and Itachi Uchiha, Naruto Crossover, Luna befriends a blind ghost)

Third Time’s the Charm (Harry Potter, MCU crossover, Bruce Banner keeps trying to kill himself and MoD Harry is there to have himself a real good day)

Blind Faith (Bellatrix LeStrange/Tom Riddle, canon compliant, an in depth look at Bellatrix from the escape of Azkaban onward)

Cocktail Time (Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart, Rita does an expose and autobiography detailing the descent of Gilderoy Lockhart and how he became what he became)

Fantastic Elves and Where to Find Them (Harry Potter, canon divergent AU, Harry thinks he’s an elf. That’s it.)

The Twine Bracelet (Colin Creevy, a look at Colin’s death) 

Legal Alien (Harry Potter, MCU crossover, Harry visits New York and an alien invasion breaks out. Culminates with the best, dumb, joke.)

The Root of Desire (Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger, Hermione travels back in time and tries to influence Tom. All this does is inspire his sexual awakening.)

Deadheads (Harry Potter/Godric Gryffindor, a romantic comedy of a kind, culminating in the best dumbest joke)

Give and Take (Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger, Hermione tries to outwit Tom, it ends in despair)

The Road to Somewhere (Harry Potter, Spirited Away crossover, Harry as MoD is in the realm of the spirits)

Absolute (Harry Potter, Harry picks up a death note, he kills everyone)

Fortunate Son (Dudley Dursleys, years afterwards Dudley looks back and writes a memoir and expose about the abuse inflicted on his cousin)

Elective Affinities (Severus Snape/Harry Potter, Harry travels back in time to discover his parents are assholes and things are more complicated than he imagined)

Juxtaposed (Bod, Graveyard Book crossover, Bod attends Hogwarts)

The Fire Omens (Tom Riddle and a look at WWII)

Broken Toys (Tom Riddle and his useless broken toys)

The Fine Art of Poisoning (Madame Zabini)

A Marriage of Convenience (Pansy and Theo get married)

Reparabilis (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Tom becomes a professor, he still destroys Harry Potter)

The Unforgivable Curses (Draco Malfoy, a look at the 4th year unforgivable lecture with Moody and the Slytherins)

Ugly (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy one sided Dudley/Harry Potter, Dudley’s fat, ugly, and creeps on his cousin)

Three Can Keep a Secret (Harry Potter, on secrets and secret keeping)

Caveat Incimici (Hermione Granger, on Hermione and her terrifying wrath)

Babylon (Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, Harry never gets rid of Tom)

Wonderful Tragic Mysterious (Luna Lovegood and Albus Dumbledore, Luna Lovegood time travels and becomes a young Albus’ neighbor)

In the Clockface, Weighted and Weary (Harry Potter/Ariana Dumbledore, Harry after DH ends up back in time in Dumbledore’s childhood and witnesses the beautiful Dumbledore family dysfunction)

Eternal Return (Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, Harry is reincarnated as Tom Riddle and as a result becomes Voldemort so that a Voldemort exists)

Like Pale Fire (Harry Potter/Godric Gryffindor, the Founders are resurrected and it turns out Harry had travelled to the past and become Salazar Slytherin, turns out the Founders were more complicated than people expected.)

12 Moves Sideways (Harry Potter and Light Yagami, Death Note crossover, Light becomes the Defense Professor, for once Harry does not figure out the mystery.)

A Very Young Girl’s Record of Her Own Impressions (Ariana Dumbledore’s diary)

Night Comes Early (Moody on war)

Little Witches (The Black family women and how it all falls apart)

Paved with Good Intentions (Petunia on finding a baby on her doorstep)

Emerald Serpent for Vanity (Draco and Nagini introspective)

Blue (Tom Riddle/Bellatrix LeStrange, Voldemort wins dystopia, Tom visits Bellatrix’s grave and is very crazy)

Eighteen (Hermione Granger, on Hermione’s betrayal of her parents)

Ouroboros (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, on what they’ve made of each other)

Not so Different (Scout, To Kill a Mockingbird Crossover, Scout reflects on the wizarding world’s raicsm)

Traitor (Hermione Granger, Hermione is captured by the Death Eaters and commits unspeakable acts to free herself)

Smashing Mirrors (Tom Riddle, introspective)

Twelve Dark Moons (Luna Lovegood/Tom Riddle, Luna becomes a captive of the dark lord)

Full Circle (Harry Potter, Harry wins and is miserable)

The Web of a Thousand Spiders (Luna Lovegood on the diary)

The Metronome (The fall of Lucius’ entire generation)

Understand (Hermione Granger and her betrayal of her parents)

Tea with the Headmaster (Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, the pair have tea)

This Grief Feeling (Hermione Granger and Severus Snape after the end)

After Innocence (The trio after the end)

Of Great Turmoil and Excess Stupidity (Sesshomaru and Hagrid, Inuyasha crossover, Hagrid decides to capture a demon for class)

What’s Left of Hope (Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, on preserving hope)

In His Keep (Severus Snape and Luna Lovegood, Snape informs Luna her father has died)

Wednesday (Petunia Evans, introspective)

In the Presence of Angels (Moody in WWII)

What He Grows to Be (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry Potter raises Tom Riddle in the past and it goes horribly wrong)

Being Cassandra (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Tom, and their strange AU friendship)

The Girl (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, a fem Harry Potter keeps accidentally appearing in Tom’s childhood)

Corruption (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Tom wins AU and female Harry slowly becomes corrupted)

One Night Stand (Tom Riddle/Lily Evans, a wonderful look on the first war, Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, the Order of the Phoenix, and terrorism)

The Voldemort Principle (Severus Snape, turns out Snape was Voldemort the whole time and Harry is a lying liar who lies)

Harry Potter and the mountain of pure diamond (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Harry has become an ageless god who travels worlds and decides to raise Tom Riddle. He’s disturbed when he realizes Tom is more of a person than he is)

A Road Less Travelled By (Harry Potter/Lucius Malfoy, Harry’s a veela, just read it, it’s amazing, I know I sound crazy but it is)

Transformation (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Draco gets eaten by the Forbidden Forest and then Harry gets eaten too)

Rock Bottom (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Tom gets trapped being defense professor and has a miserable time)

[isitmeurlookin4]

HC Based Joe Goldberg from Netflix's You〈 canon divergent from series

21+ mun and muse. DNI if you're under 21〈 triggers are all over the blog

I'm highly private here and will interact highly selectively〈 mutually exclusive

I'm open for asks but please don't reblog memes〈 personals you can follow but don't reblog anything; same goes for non mutuals

Joe is a stalker sociopath who is toxic towards women〈 I don't support his actions clearly as this is a fictitious portrayal. FYI if you follow this blog please do so knowing what character you're getting involved to write with. If he makes you uncomfortable do us both a favor and do not follow. If you are not aware of how deeply problematic Joe is or think I will tone him down this is definitely NOT the blog for you.

Please remember the mun doesn't equal the muse〈 call me moonsea, she/her, over the age of 25. I'm easygoing and here to write with friends. I have discord but opt to disclose it only with people I know for a while so pls do not ask me for it if we do not know each other.

Shipping isn't going to be normal. Joe obsesses and kills. I also do not ship Joe with Love and avoid the plot point of Beck. This is a canon divergent blog and that goes with shipping. If you're looking for him to fall in love with Love or Beck I will not write that. I will be honest I dislike the Quinn family. lol I'm not here for it. Also do not assume he will automatically choose your muse as his next 'YOU' object when interacting. I usually will talk to the person I'm interacting with if that's something you're interested in with shipping with Joe. His main ship is my gf's @ixonmaiden BUT he is not a single ship blog. He is multiship; everything happens in its own universe. No cross shipping of any kind will take place. This blog is OC friendly and always female muse supportive. Joe is interested in females only for romance/shipping purposes. However he will interact with anyone bar child muses. 〈 don't autoship please

Joe is low activity and low follower count〈 casual rp with extensive plot

Do not god mod. And pls do not meta game. Yeah we know that Joe is a creep stalker BUT your muse doesn't know this when meeting him. So if your muse has some immediate epiphany about something being wrong with him well I will probably not reply to you. Cause that ruins the whole interaction. He doesn't show his true self. He is intelligent enough to play the game so remember this when dealing with him.

My opens are not to be liked by anyone who is NOT a mutual. Please do not respond to them if I have not followed you back. My interactions are private and selective for a reason.

Banned: Child muses. Love Quinn & The Quinn family in general. (I just have no interest). Amber Heard. Ezra Miller. Others using Penn Badgley's face for obvious reasons lol

Selective: For potential oc fcs - Victoria Pedretti, Elizabeth Lail. I'm not big on these two & it's better to be honest about that upfront.

Wanted: Would absolutely love to interact with - Adam, Delilah Alves, Marienne Bellamy, Nadia Farran, Kate Galvin, Lady Phoebe, Rhys Montrose, Peach Salinger.

Aesthetics: I have chosen to use static icons for aesthetic purposes on this blog. Maybe I will make some gif icons at some point. However, I will not use gifs. If you do that's fine. You may use gifs, gif icons, static icons or no icons at all. I'm not picky with it at all. I use small/medium gifs on other blogs but for the purposes of this one I prefer the statics I have made.

I'm portraying Joe based on headcanons and diverging from the canon. I look at him as someone who suffers from sociopathic tendencies and narcissistic behavior. Remember that Joe is not a prince charming. He might think he is but I know he is not. He feels as he does in his warped vision of himself and everyone around him BUT I do not agree with this. Take this as a major PSA on this blog. Cause I the mun am totally aware of how messed up he is. So no need to come at me in my inbox to tell me what I already know lol This character is dark and I'm aware of the reality of who he is. Joe Goldberg is a whole trigger.

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.15)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (There’s Wesker & William Bromance too lol). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 15:Infatuation

Claire was awake when she heard Chris getting ready for work, but she stayed in bed. She didn’t join him for breakfast or a cup of coffee. She didn’t see him off. She just turned over on her side, away from her door where the hallway light creeped through underneath. She had endured a near sleepless night of tosses and turns, the aches in her muscles a stinging reminder of what she had done.

She must’ve fallen asleep for a couple of hours because she awoke to sunshine peeking through the curtains. The sun was out, reflecting off the snow that blanketed the city. Claire got out of bed and did her usual morning ritual: dressing, brushing her teeth, hopelessly trying to come up with a way to escape her grim situation. Funny how that last one had snuck into her daily routine. Her new normal apparently.

Claire made herself toast and orange juice for breakfast but barely touched it. She tried distracting herself with the newspaper, but there wasn’t anything interesting to read in Raccoon Times.

Umbrella Corporation opens new distribution center, creates 600 new jobs

Mayor Warren promises more funding for local orphanage

Kite Bros. expands Downtown travel with new subway tunnel

Clock Tower Plaza puts up traditional Raccoon City Christmas Tree

Even though Chris left her his truck again, she didn’t want to go anywhere. Where would she go? See a friend and potentially drag them into her situation? Try and get help from someone else that was under Wesker’s boot or on his payroll? Raccoon City seemed like an illusion now, a cesspool of collusion and extortion. As though the rose-colored glasses she had once viewed the city in were ripped from her eyes to expose all of the red flags and blood she couldn’t see before.

Besides, she felt bad for the fight she had with her brother last night. Despite Chris overstepping boundaries with his overprotective nature, he was just concerned for her. He knew she was hiding something and was worried. The Redfield siblings only had each other, for nearly nine years now. Chris had sacrificed time and time again for her, to make sure they could stay together, to make sure she could go to college, always making sure she had what she needed over himself. Even when Chris’s behavior got him discharged more than once, he always put her first.

He knew she could take care of herself. He made sure he taught her all he could. Most brothers were protective of their sisters, but Claire wondered if Chris’s...excessiveness was perhaps a form of PTSD from what happened to their parents. Stepping into that guardian role, he went right into the Air Force, just like their parents. He abandoned a normal future to ensure hers, to keep them together, and to somehow get closer to the parents they had lost.

That was why it was hard to stay mad at him. Even if this time he unmindfully didn’t know the danger he was putting them in with his good, albeit intemperate, intentions.

Claire decided she would apologize when Chris got home that evening. And so, she spent the day trying to be productive, to keep her mind from wandering. She studied for a while, and then cleaned the house for a bit, blasting Queen at high volume. However, no matter what she did, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking about not only her situation, but the man that now had her literally pinned under him. She worried what his next scheme for her would be. But she’d be lying to herself if she denied the excitement that also thrummed through her veins. The strange mix made her queasy.

By the time it started getting dark, Claire realized she had wasted most of her day deep in thought, trying to make sense of it all, plotting for a way out, and maybe spending more time than she’d care to admit thinking about what happened between her and Wesker.

Chris would be home soon, so she started dinner. While cooking, she turned on the television to keep her mind focused, but after a few channel changes, a local news station caught her attention with a caption that filled her lungs with ice.

“Raccoon University professor missing, linked to drugging and sexual assault of multiple students.”

Claire turned up the volume, perturbed, because she just knew which professor they were talking about…

“-ow long has this been going on, Alyssa?” asked the anchor.

The news reporter, a pretty, bob-cut blonde, was quick to answer while standing out in the cold in front of Raccoon University, wearing a white coat and a red suit. “I’m being told this may have been happening for over a year now. The RPD are keeping the victims’ identities under wraps at this time, but I do know there are at least four. Dr. Simon Lowery has been missing for a little over 24 hours, having fled after trying to drug a female student at the open house last night. We have yet to get a statement from his wife, but police are saying she had no idea of his behavior. We’ve heard the same testimonies from colleagues. This is one of those -”

Claire clicked the remote. The TV went black, silent. She stared at the screen, a shocked reflection looking back at her. The news story rubbed her wrong. Lowery was a bad man, she knew that much. He would’ve killed her over those documents, would’ve strangled her in the snow when they fought to keep her quiet over stealing whatever it was she had stolen. But not once did she get the feeling he was like that.

She’d bet money that the news story over Lowery was made up to cover up what really happened. She wasn’t sure if Wesker came up with the story or if it was any of his numerous pawns. Didn’t matter. It proved what she already knew, just like the other day when the news covered that Finley guy’s supposed “suicide” in his car. Just as Wesker had told her before, their fates were whatever he decided. Not just their deaths but their legacies, tainting and twisting them, dismantling and disgracing them, like a true god of death.

The city would never know what really happened to Finley and Lowery, whether they deserved their fates or not.

Claire shook out of her thoughts, a chill running over her as she recalled Finley’s head exploding, blood spraying all over the snow. Why had fate led her down that very same path that day?

A smoky, tangy smell pervaded her nostrils. Dinner was burning! Cursing, she raced into the kitchen to save it. The pork chops were burned on one side but other than that, the rest of dinner turned out okay.

Chris came in not long after she had finished cooking, silently walking over to her spot on the couch as she read a book. The couch shifted when he sat down, and so she looked up from the pages. Still in STARS uniform, her older brother scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable but presenting her an apologetic smile. It was hard to stay mad at him with a puppy-dog face like that.

“Hey…”

“Hey,” she mimicked.

“I’m sorry, Sis. About last night. I clearly went overboard. It’s been eating at me all day.”

“Chris, it’s -”

“Let me finish,” he pleaded. “I know you’re an adult. I know you can kick anyone’s ass. I’m overprotective because of what happened to Mom and Dad.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“But that’s no excuse to act the way I did. I trust you, Claire. And I believe in you. But I get so...obsessed with making sure you’re safe and-and fine that my stupid brain can’t see anything else! I let it get the better of me too much. So, from now on, I’ll work hard to keep myself from going overboard and to trust you more. N-Not that I haven’t trusted you! You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you. It’s stupid of me to act like you have. We’ve always had that unspoken pact that we can tell each other anything and it will always stand.”

Claire shifted uncomfortably in her spot. “A-Always.”

“I love you, Sis. I’m really sorry.”

The Redfield siblings were both stubborn and proud, and so sometimes it was Chris who apologized first and sometimes it was Claire. Although Chris usually gave in before she did. Despite that, this was still pretty soon for Chris to give in, as big as a fight they had. Claire wondered if something happened at work that made Chris come to his senses faster. Maybe Jill talked to him? Wouldn’t be the first time. She was her brother’s best friend, after all.

She decided it wasn’t important for now. She had been ready to apologize to her brother when he got home, and here he was apologizing as well. She was ready to put the whole fight behind them and move on...as best as she could in her predicament anyway. At least Chris had seemingly given up pushing her for answers. What a lucky break! Jill must’ve really lined him out.

Claire hugged Chris. “I’m sorry too, Bro. Love you!”

His strong arms wrapped around her and squeezed hard. For years growing up, it had been the safest feeling in the world. She always cherished it. Soon they pulled away, and got up to eat dinner.

William paced, flipping through pages, catching important details and logging them away at a rate far faster than the average person. Wesker leaned against the wall, dressed in his STARS attire, watching him pace a trench in front of him. Always calm, always collected. How did he do it?!

The cable car shuddered, flicking the light overhead as it rose to the surface. He hated taking this hunk of junk! Normally, he didn’t have to, but they were meeting Irons in the sewers. Perfect place to find the slimy rat.

“No! Goddamn it, no! Why? They said Sheena Island was strictly testing and experimentation! That old bastard is moving my Hunter research there without my consent, and now the Tyrants? Mass production on a prototype? Even if they perfect the Epsilon strain, it’s nowhere near ready for cloning!”

“Are you truly all that surprised?” Wesker asked.

“No, I just…” William sighed. “It’s shit like this that tells me Spencer has no plans to put me on the executive board! If I don’t get in there, we’ll never be able to fulfill our plans! And there’s no way in hell I’m bartering the G-Virus for that spot. It’s my legacy, mine to completely control. He’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers!”

“Best not tempt fate, old friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“At any rate, your tantrum is premature. With those numbers, the Sheena Island facility won’t be operable for any kind of mass production until August at the earliest. The research team on the Epsilon strain knows that the T-002 will be obsolete by the time it is finished. More than likely a new model is being developed and that will be the one they intend to manufacture. We have time to take this knowledge and use it to our advantage later.”

Birkin snorted. Lately Al’s “optimism” gave him anxiety. "Don’t you think we have our fingers in too many pies already? And toes at this rate. We’re wearing ourselves thin, Al. With too many enemies waiting for us to screw up.”

It was a reasonable concern. Sheena Island’s true motives were still mostly top-secret for now, going by this information sent by Alex. Roth must’ve bought this information from this other cohort of his, and was probably trying to haggle deals with Mueller, Lowery, and Bard. As well as Crawford and Finley. William made a mental note to thank Alex for this later. Wesker may have been a member of the Umbrella Intelligence Division as well, but he meticulously watched his dealings, aware of Spencer’s tabs on him. Alex didn’t have this problem, and so was their go-to source of anything they weren’t privy to.

His partner scowled. “That is such an absurd idiom. Regardless, we are committed at this point. Roth still has our stolen data and the plans for Sheena Island directly affects our goals. You admitted it yourself.”

The cable car shook and screeched, sliding to a halt. The light above the door turned green, and the robotic female voice told them to watch their step and have a good day. No, he would certainly not have a good day! He was having to deal with this and was about to meet a big rat in a stinky sewer. Didn’t the stupid voice know that? How insensitive!

“Yeah, I know. Guess we better be careful how we handle this.”

Wesker and William exited the cable car and walked side by side through the sewer facility. There weren’t many workers, but they all gave them a wide berth, keeping their heads down.

Wesker chuckled to himself, but William heard it over the water pumps and machinery.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just acknowledging that your prolonged bout of paranoia has made us change places. I’m usually the one telling you we need to be careful.”

They were both ruthless and ambitious, but Wesker had more patience and control. And although his back-and-forth stints of paranoia did make him more cautious, Will still hadn’t developed the patience or control that his partner had always had.

If only you knew why...what he’s making me do…

William frowned, rubbing his shoulder and quickly cleared his throat. “Well, no wonder you're so optimistic lately, taking after me. Like a little ball of sunshine!"

His partner didn’t respond to that, and William hoped it wasn’t because he had caught his nervous tic. In case he did, he quickly changed the subject. “So, did you get the kind of reaction out of Ada you were expecting?”

“More or less. I’m still annoyed by how you handled it though.”

“Look, you asked me to bring Claire up in a way to get a reaction from Ada to see if your suspicions were right and I did just that! You’re welcome, by the way!”

They reached the monitor room where they were meeting with Chief Irons. William entered first, and the Chief immediately noticed him, an Umbrella mercenary on each side of him. His pudgy eyes squinted testily and he opened his mouth to start his usual complaining. That is, until Wesker entered right behind him. His mouth quickly snapped shut. Ah, the benefits of having Al around!

Irons glanced around the room, his usual air of arrogance belittled and squashed like a bug. But there was nowhere to run in this room, nothing to protect him. He was at their mercy, but the tough-as-nails Irons wouldn’t be one to break so easily.

He half-laughed, half-snorted, attempting to cover his discomfort. “Now this must be a special occasion if you're both here. Rumor has it when you two are together, someone's going to die...or wish they would."

"Well, funny thing about rumors, Brian," William smirked. "There’s always some truth to them."

It was fun seeing the color drain from his face only to completely flush red like a cherry. He glared their way, fists forming tightly at his sides. "Oh yeah? And how exactly am I on you two assholes' shit list today? Considering all I do is cover your goddamn tracks and provide you with security all hours of every fucking day. Wait, don't tell me, you two have a rehearsed good cop, bad cop routine just for me?" He laughed. "No thanks."

Will nudged Albert. "Damn it, he guessed it! Wait, am I bad cop this time? I forget?"

"I'm always bad cop."

"No fair! We should take turns!"

Irons rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Just get to the point of why I'm here. If we're negotiating new deals, it's a bad time. I'm a busy man, after all."

"Funny you should mention that, Chief," Wesker sneered. "We're done negotiating with you."

The Umbrella mercs pulled their guns on the Chief. Irons froze on the spot, eyes bulging and going to the trained weapons, and this time he turned a bit green.

“Listen, Albert...let’s not get too hasty. Let’s talk like gentlemen. I-I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

His resolve was cracking slowly, but William wouldn’t count the bastard out just yet. Irons had grown complacent in his position, taking advantage of anything he could get his grubby hands on. William and Wesker had allowed much of this behavior to slide in the knowledge that Irons would eventually get himself into a bind. And that’s where he was now.

“Of course, Brian. I am a sophisticated man, after all. Take a seat.”

The Chief of Police looked relieved at that and pulled out a chair and sat down. The Umbrella mercenaries stood at his back, guns still aimed to the back of his head. William and Albert sat down across from him.

William slid a sealed yellow envelope across the table to Irons. “Open it and take a good, hard look, Brian.”

Irons wiped his mustache, a little sweat forming on his brow. He slowly opened the envelope and sifted through the contents. Each page he flipped through he grew a shade whiter, until he was pasty like a ghost.

“What the fuck is this?”

William leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Oh, I don’t know. You tell us.”

Irons trembled in his chair, both from anger and fear. He flushed again, one fat fist crinkling a page and he quickly stood. “You fucking bastards!”

One merc’s gun barrel pressed into Irons’ skull and he quickly remembered his place. He slowly sat down. He sure was sweating a lot now!

“You put yourself in this situation, Brian,” Wesker stated. “You know I keep tabs on you and yet you got sloppy. Arrogant, too, thinking you’d be able to set me up.”

“Your sick fantasies with the mayor’s daughter will be released to the public. Your replacement has already been chosen. You will die,” William continued.

“No! No, please! We can come to an agreement!”

“There are no more agreements to come to, Brian,” Wesker growled. “Just two choices. You can die like William so eloquently stated or you can sell the remainder of your pathetic soul to our cause.”

And unsurprisingly, the Chief went with the option that kept his sorry ass alive. “Deal! You got it!”

“And just so we’re clear. That -” William motioned to the envelope. “- never goes away. This is your last chance. Next time...well...there won’t be a next time. Just you dead and your dirty secrets exposed for all to see. Never forget how replaceable you are, Brian.”

Irons slowly nodded, guarded. “And exactly what are you two going to want me to do for your “cause”?”

“You will still perform your normal duties for Umbrella, and only report to me,” Wesker explained. “But if William and I tell you to do something, you do it. Even if it goes against your orders from Umbrella.”

“Fine.”

“William will be taking over as your handler. You should thank him. It was my intention to kill you tonight and he convinced me otherwise. If he asks you to perform in the circus, I expect you to clap your flippers and balance that ball without any disinclination. Do I make myself clear?”

Irons ground his jaw and stiffly nodded. “You always do, Albert.”

William sat up a little straighter, a haughty grin spreading. Albert’s protectiveness of him always gave him a feeling of empowerment, feeding his ego, and made a darker part of himself more bold, more ambitious.

“Don’t worry, Brian,” Will said with a fake, friendly smile. “You do a good job and stay on my good side, I always pay really well, way more than Al does.” He added a postscript after seeing the Chief’s interested grin. “Get on my bad side, however, and you’ll be my newest experiment...just ask Lowery.”

The Police Chief’s relief was short-lived. The mention of Lowery’s name struck something in him. He scowled, stiffening once more, looking between the two partners in crime.

“So you two were behind what happened at the university?”

“Oh yes,” William bragged. “Which is partly how we found out about your little attempt to set up Albert.”

“Which brings us to our next order of business, Brian,” Albert added. “Who was with you when you met up with Aaron Roth?”

Irons shook his head, hands on the table, still aware of the guns at his back. “Look, Lowery and Bard paid me to keep their business dealings hush-hush. I think they were trying to coerce Mueller into selling key information on his project in exchange for getting some crucial research going down on some island.”

Will sighed. “Don’t make Al repeat himself, ya idiot.” He snapped his fingers. “His name? Who is he?”

“S-Some bigshot from Europe who works on this island. He’s partners with Roth, buying and selling research within Umbrella and other companies. Goes by Stefan Bennett, but I couldn’t tell you if that’s his real name or not.”

When Will glanced at Al, a subtle flex in his shoulder was all he needed to read him. Bennett wasn't anyone known to them.

"Where are they hiding out?"

Irons shrugged. "Don't know. I'm only being paid for their meetings. Bennett will be at Bard’s annual Christmas party. I don't know if Roth will be there. He acted like he had other plans."

Like selling my research, the bastard...

"Then I suppose a meeting with Nathaniel Bard is in order," Wesker announced, sunglasses glinting under the fluorescents as he looked to William with a dark grin.

William returned his partner's smirk. "Yeah...It's party time."

(photo by IsmaelUchihaSan)

It was the perfect day for Jill to be off, or not have her shift until the evening anyway. Late morning, while Chris was stuck at the RPD, the girls enjoyed a light brunch and lattes at a quaint coffee shop before doing some last minute Christmas shopping.

Claire always enjoyed hanging out with the older woman. They had a lot in common and Claire was always learning something new with her company. She often found herself wondering if her oaf of a brother would ever romantically ask Jill out. It seemed like everyone could see it but them. Then again, perhaps they didn’t pursue their feelings because of their careers. Claire didn’t know the policies of STARS, but there might be restrictions there.

The two of them picked up Claire’s gift she had bought for Chris and took it over to Jill’s house. The box was tall and rectangular, about the size of a small adult. Though bulky, it wasn’t as heavy as it looked, and with each of them on one end, was able to carry it easily into the home.

They were greeted by Jill’s overly affectionate golden retriever, Bella. Claire flopped onto the floor to properly greet the fluffy, blond dog. Jill giggled at the sight.

“Hell of a guard dog, ain’t she?” Jill joked. “She’ll lick you to death.”

Better than getting my throat ripped out by Wesker’s dog…

Claire pushed aside that unpleasant memory and stood back up. Hard to believe that was only a few days ago. Her hand was already a lot better, but her ankle still hurt like a bitch.

They carried the box into Jill’s other bedroom that doubled as an office and home gym. The STARS Alpha member’s house was a three bedroom, two bath. She assumed the third bedroom was a guest room, but Claire wasn’t sure. Chris’s house was a bit bigger, with three bathrooms. They had their own in their bedrooms and then the guest bathroom in the hallway.

“Thanks for keeping this here for a bit, Jill.”

“No problem. I guess my home is the popular choice to hide gifts. Chris has yours here as well. I’m just waiting for Barry to ask to keep the girls’ gifts here, as if they don’t have enough space in that big house of theirs.”

“Well, you know how Moira is. She gets into everything. They can’t hide any gifts from her! She’s gonna be a handful as a teenager!”

They laughed and returned to the living room, Bella trailing behind them. Jill fetched them some water and the girls took a load off on the sofas.

“The punching bag was a good thought,” Jill declared. “I know Chris has been wanting one.”

Claire nodded, smiling as she watched Bella carry around her favorite plush duck toy. “Yeah. He’s been really wanting to start bulking up more. Although when we were playing on his guitar last night, I realized he needs a new toolkit for it. So I might have to go pick up one of those as well.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you play too. Why haven’t I got to see you play yet? I’ve watched Chris lots of times.”

Claire shrugged. “I guess we just never think about it when I'm visiting.” The Redfield siblings didn’t mind playing guitar in front of others, but they cherished playing together, reciting notes and melodies their father had played for them when they were young. “Chris told me you played piano? I need to see that!”

Claire didn’t get the piano at all. That was entirely different from the guitar.

Jill softly laughed. “Yeah. It’s ingrained from childhood. Had the meanest instructor ever. Chris jokes that playing the piano won’t ever do me any good, and suggests I learn something else.”

“He’s just jealous,” Claire joked.

Jill laughed at that. “He totally is. You know, I’m happy you two reconciled so quickly. Chris can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“He can be, but I’m not one to talk. Whatever you said to him, it must’ve worked. So thank you for that. I know he’s just trying to look out for me, but it gets old. I’m an adult and can take care of myself.”

The older woman furrowed her brows and shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

“Huh? It wasn’t?”

“No, it was the Captain.”

Her heart flipped, twisting her lungs to where she choked on air before she could take a drink of her water. It took all in Claire’s power to keep a straight face and feign something catching in her throat. “I’m sorry?”

“The fight you two had upset Chris a lot, affected his performance when we were doing some training. I guess Wesker picked up on it. Apparently, they took a long lunch together, and the Captain helped Chris get his head straight. At least, that’s what Chris told me later.”

Claire was completely freaked out by that information but hid it, wiping her suddenly clammy hands on her pants. She drank half of her water in one gulp and squeezed the bottle so hard it crumpled in the middle.

“O-Oh, I figured it was you.”

“Not this time,” Jill answered. “But it wasn’t without a lack of trying. He just didn’t listen. Not until he had gone too far anyway, the ass. At least Wesker got through to him.”

“Yeah…” she cleared her throat and stood up. “Well, I should get going. I don’t want to take up all of your free time and I have some studying to do. Thanks for helping me pick that up and letting me hide it here.”

It was partially true. Claire didn’t want to take up all of Jill’s day off before she had to go in for night shift. But mostly the recent news had unsettled her and she needed to gather her thoughts on the matter.

Jill smiled, nodding as she patted Bella on the head as the retriever’s big brown eyes stared up at Claire with that duck still in her mouth, tail thumping hard on the hardwood floor.

“No problem, Claire.”

“Stay safe tonight, Jill.”

“You’re not on the schedule...again.”

Ada sighed, crossing her arms and looking at the guard like he was stupid. He was. “I know that. But that won’t matter. William will still see me.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably, studying her suspiciously and then glancing at his list again. “Dr. Birkin is an extremely busy man. He’s been doing important tests all day and asked me to not allow anyone but Mrs. Dr. Birkin and Dr. Wesker entry. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“I’m here on behalf of Albert. He’s busy at the police department currently. Just give him a ring and you’ll see.”

The guard hesitated, thinking and unsure. Clearly, he was scared to disturb his boss in the middle of his important work.

Ada smiled flirtatiously at him. “C’mon, Johnny. Help a girl out? It’s important.” She winked.

Johnny sighed. “Oh, alright.” He put a hand to his headset. “Dr. Birkin? I’m sorry to bother you, but Ms. Wong insists on seeing you. She says she’s here on behalf of Dr. Wesker.”

The spy didn’t miss how the camera up in the corner of the hallway turned down their way, aiming the attached machine gun right on their faces, blinking red light a far deadlier version of Candid Camera.

“Yes, sir. I understand. Will do,” Johnny said into his headpiece. He nodded at Ada and stepped aside. “You may enter. But please, keep it short. He has much to do.”

Ada waved him off. “Thanks, Johnny.”

She went through the automatic door, was sprayed down again, and strolled through the large, multi-room laboratory. She turned a corner, saw bright yellow and outstretched arms, and, on reflex, kicked the thing away from her.

“Ow!” came a muffled voice.

“Will, you idiot. Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Ada snapped.

The mad scientist pulled the hazmat suit’s helmet off, waddling over to the nearby safety station to strip it off and hang it up.

“I think that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to scaring you!” William laughed.

Ada crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You didn’t scare me. You didn’t even startle me. You mildly annoyed me.”

“Ugh, you sound like Al. One day I will scare him. It’s on my bucket list. It might get me killed, but imma do it!”

The spy shook her head. “I don’t know about you sometimes.”

Birkin seemed extra...quirky today. He had an extra bounce in his step, grinning, humming as he left the safety station to his main desk. That’s when Ada noticed numerous empty energy drink cans and half a cup of cold, forgotten black coffee.

“How many of these have you had?” He did kind of look like one of those zombies Ada had seen being dissected in the Arklay lab, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes.

“Uhh…” he pondered, counting on his fingers as he twitched and quivered restlessly. “Five? I think?” He flopped down in his chair, shifting it side to side.

Ada leaned against his desk, glancing at the disorganized paperwork strewn about. Her sharp eyes caught many interesting and familiar things: G-Virus, Plant 43, Hunter Beta, Cerberus, NE-Alpha parasite, Lisa Trevor, T-Virus Epsilon. Then her eyes caught the interesting things that she had only seen once and was curious to find out more, now with associated words that intrigued her further: Prototype Virus, Project W, eugenics research, Progenitor, Ndipaya.

She had only a few seconds of absorbing these words before William snatched up the two papers that had anything on it. She watched him open his safe and put them inside, only accessible with a scan of his hand.

Ada acted like none of it interested her. “Five, huh? And how long have you been up, exactly? You look like shit. You smell like shit.”

William lifted his shirt and smelled. “I don’t know, when did Al and I go talk with Irons?"

“That was yesterday morning.”

“Oh...shit. Well, it’s been over 24 hours then.”

“I can tell.”

“So, how’d it go with Mueller?”

“As well as you’d expect. I’ve already relayed the info to Albert. Mueller won’t be a problem. In fact, he’s willing to help if it gets rid of Roth. I guess he feels scammed by the trade.”

William smirked, still swiveling slightly side to side in his chair. “I bet he does. Well, with Lowery no longer having a tongue and Irons and Bard put in their places, looks like we might be able to wrap this up by Christmas!”

Ada rapped her nails on the desk, frowning. “Albert told me the plan. Look, between you and me, I gotta ask...what’s the deal with him and Claire?”

Will chuckled. “What’s wrong? You jealous?”

“In your dreams. It’s just that...I mean, I don’t know the girl,” she lied. “But I thought he was just using her to get to Roth. Why have a fling with her? He doesn’t do that...at least not with just anyone.”

“You sure are a curious little kitty,” William half-joked, half-warned, leaning back in his chair. “What are you hoping to use this knowledge for?”

Ugh, she hated when he was an asshole. Then again, he was protecting Albert and so she should’ve known better. The spy sighed. “Fine. I’m just a little worried about Claire, alright? Can you blame me?”

She knew how Wesker worked. Claire was in way over her head. Didn’t matter how smart and strong she was. Despite being his type, she was still different than most and he did seem to have some kind of soft spot for her. And that is what both bothered and intrigued Ada.

“It’s not like you to worry about others like that. And I can blame you, actually. You got yourself tangled with Al. That’s on you.”

Ada bit her tongue. This wasn’t about her. “And poor Claire got tangled out of her control. C’mon, Will. I’ve helped you two a lot recently. Throw me a bone here. I deserve something in return.”

Will kept a straight face, thinking it over. Ada glared at him. Finally, the Golgotha creator grinned widely and leaned forward. Ada recognized the child-like delight, and knew he was about to spill the beans.

“Alright, alright! I think he has feelings for her.”

Ada laughed skeptically. “Whatever, Will! Tell me for real.”

She had to admit, she had thought something similar a few days ago when she spied Wesker nearly pinning Claire against his car. But she soon dismissed it. He definitely liked her and was attracted to her…but had feelings for her?! That was a little hard to believe.

“I do! He is obsessed, I’m telling you. The girl would’ve been dead a long time now had it been anyone else. He’s given her more chances than I’ve ever seen. He had the chance to pop her brother in the back without anyone knowing and didn’t do it! I don’t think he knows it himself, or he purposely keeps himself in denial, but...there’s something about her.”

Ada frowned, thinking it over. William had a point. All of Claire’s stunts to try and fight Albert should have ended with her dead a long time ago. And how her brother had been getting suspicious and snooping around, well, it should have ended the same with him by now.

“You think she reminds him of Anezka?” Ada asked.

Was that her name? Ada couldn’t really remember. She wasn’t around back then and had only heard all the different stories when she came here a couple of years ago.

“Nah...I mean they’re both redheads and feisty, but I don’t think that’s it. Anna jilted him, and besides being a little touchy over it, he’s moved on.”

“Is that really what happened?”

William shrugged. “I guess? No one really knows...not even Al.”

Ada wished she had been a fly on that wall when Anezka was still around. So many rumors and gossip about what happened. She practically disappeared, as though she was only a dream. But Albert remembered...resentfully. Ada knew him well enough that it wasn’t just his ego that got hurt. He actually had cared for her, and he hated that he did.

“Well, Albert’s given Claire all these chances to let her live. You think he will let her go when Roth is dealt with, as he has promised her?”

William scowled, leaning back in his chair. “What do you think?”

The double agent had no idea why, but her heart sank a little. As if she was hoping for something she knew better of. And here she thought her line of work had snuffed out all remaining optimism in her life.

“He won’t kill her. I guarantee it,” William boasted. “As obsessed and possessive he already is of her, she’s stuck. There will be conditions he gives her. I’m sure you know what those would be.”

“You sound happy about that,” Ada pointed out.

He shrugged, but the slight upcurve of his lips gave him away. “I like the girl. Sherry adores her. She’s proven to be quite resourceful and clever. She’ll be handy to have around. Besides, if Al actually has feelings for her, I gotta see where it goes! The geneticist in me really hopes he knocks her up.”

It may have sounded like a dark joke, but Ada knew the lunatic genius was dead serious. “I’m really disturbed by how obsessed you are with your best friend’s love and sex life.”

“I’m just looking out for him!”

Ada would never understand Wesker and William’s relationship. One of life’s greatest mysteries. But what was also another mystery still was why Wesker had feelings for Claire.

Was she the next Anezka?

She parked right down the road. It was already nearly dark, but at least the temperature hadn’t dropped too much. Claire stuck to the recently salted sidewalks, hands stuffed in her parka. Her heart pounded in her throat, and her mind raced with what he could want this time.

Wesker called her while she was waiting for Chris to get off work, summoning her to his house for an “important discussion”. She was anxious for two reasons. One, the last time she saw Wesker just a couple nights ago, they had sex. And two, after learning from Jill that Wesker was the one who dealt with Chris, she wasn’t sure what that meant for her or her brother.

She was queasy, butterflies in her stomach, but she wasn’t about to lose her cool. More than anything, she feared her body would betray her once more, a dark excitement coursing through her blood.

Upon reaching Wesker’s house, Claire spotted a vehicle she didn’t recognize in his driveway. She didn’t get too close to it, but it looked like a ruby-colored Porsche Boxster. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not about not being alone with the STARS Captain, but she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway.

After a minute of silence, anticipation eating at her, the door opened. Her heart skipped when those familiar grey-blue eyes and dark smirk greeted her. Her stomach twisted, but Claire couldn’t tell whether it was from disgust or excitement.

“Good evening, Claire,” he purred. He stepped aside to allow her entry. “Please do come in. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped inside. “Thanks.”

He shut the door while she looked around. Odin padded over and sniffed her, docked tail wagging slightly. But she didn’t see anyone who could’ve owned the car outside.

Wesker’s hands brushed up her back. The bad thing was Claire realized she didn’t blench this time. No, this time she shivered in pleasure. She inwardly scolded herself as he took her coat off to hang by the door.

“We have much to discuss, dear heart,” he said, one muscular arm locking around her waist and pulling her deeper inside the house.

That’s when the younger Redfield saw a familiar face come into the living room from the kitchen, carrying a full glass of red wine. She nearly blurted Ada’s name, surprised, but quickly bit her tongue, hiding any reaction. Wesker didn’t know that she and Ada had already met personally. And it needed to stay that way.

“I sure hope you weren’t saving that malbec wine for a special occasion, Albert. I helped myself,” Ada said. When her eyes landed on Claire, she was the perfect actress. There was no recognition, no subtle signs given to Claire. “Is this her?”

“The one and only,” Wesker affirmed.

Ada took a long sip of her wine and sat it down on a coaster on the center table before walking over to them. Wesker stepped away while the double agent looked Claire over, one arm crossed and one hand on her chin as she thought. She walked around Claire and even grabbed her arms and lifted them and spun her around.

“Hmm...Yes, I can definitely work with this.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Claire grumbled. Ada spun her around again and grabbed at her hair. “Hey! What’s the big idea?!”

“Hold still, hun.”

Ada withdrew a tailor tape measurer. She measured Claire’s waist, chest, and height, even her arms and legs. Afterwards, she yanked Claire’s ponytail out and felt through her tresses.

“What are you doing?” Claire snapped.

“Taking measurements,” Ada replied. “Trying to figure out what to do with your hair.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later,” Wesker stated. His Doberman sat at his side, head cocked curiously as Ada got handsy with her measurements.

“Okay, finished,” Ada announced, rolling up her tape and putting it in her pocket. She retrieved her wine and took another drink. “I’ll have something ready by tomorrow.”

“What ready?” Claire demanded. “What’s going on?”

Wesker’s lips barely curled upward. “Oh, where are my manners? Claire, this is an associate of mine, Ada Wong. She originally was to pick you up at the university. Ada, you know Claire, I’ve told you all about her.”

The Eurasian beauty dipped her head. “Charmed.” Still completely in character, although Claire now saw something subtle in her eyes as she stared at Claire. Perhaps a warning? Or just acknowledgement?

“You too...I guess,” Claire said.

Wesker chuckled, catching their attention. “You do not have to pretend to be strangers on my account, ladies. I know you’re well acquainted.”

Claire ground her jaw, glaring at him. Ada didn’t even flinch, expressionless. Taking another sip of her wine, she shrugged.

“Can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I Albert?”

“Oh come now, Ada, don’t be that way,” Wesker teased. He obviously sensed something from her that Claire didn’t. He stepped around the agent’s back and, besides her tensing barely, she didn’t look disconcerted. “You knew the risks when you decided to meet Claire behind my back.”

Ada didn’t say anything to that. Wesker’s dark grin grew a bit more.

“I’m quite curious of your intentions. You’re not the jealous type. And you���re not one to have concern for others. So why so curious about Claire? I know this has nothing to do with what Sergei asked of you.”

Jealous type? Claire glanced between them, not sure what kind of undertones she was reading here. She was missing something, that’s for sure. She could only infer that Wesker was gauging Ada for something.

“I was just curious what you saw in her, I guess,” Ada dismissed calmly.

Cool under pressure. Just like the man testing her.

“And did you figure it out?”

Ada’s eyes locked with Claire’s. “I think so.”

Wesker’s soft chuckle told them he didn’t believe her one bit. “You and William should give up trying to find something that isn’t there.”

Ada didn’t have to say anything. Her smile told it all. She was pleased somehow, as though she read deeper into Wesker’s words somehow. Claire wished she would tell her the secret. And also shake this weird feeling in her chest.

“Am I going to get filled in here on why she needed to take my measurements?” Claire grumbled.

“Yes, my apologies,” Wesker admitted, his full attention on her now, and the younger woman regretted saying anything. “Ada, you may go now. I’ll fill Claire in…” He smirked.

Oh god. Did he just…? Her stomach pitched and rolled. She knew what would happen once Ada left them alone. In his house. It was an instant body verses mind battle.

Ada shrugged and walked away. Claire never wanted someone to stay and leave all at once before. But the Eurasian woman plopped down on one of the leather sofas instead, resuming drinking her wine. Odin left his master’s side to plant himself in front of her, as if expecting Ada to give him attention now that she was sitting down. Claire released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Wesker scowled. “Or…make yourself at home.”

“I will,” Ada answered nonchalantly. “I’m not about to let this delicious wine go to waste.” She made a show of swishing the red liquid around in her glass. The wine complimented her burgundy fingernails.

Claire caught the agent’s honey brown eyes as she looked right at her while sipping from her lipstick-stained glass, a coded message for her. You’re welcome…

Claire swallowed mixed feelings and glared at the STARS Captain. “So what exactly are you making me do this time?”

“Relax dear heart, it’s nothing you’re a stranger to. We’re going to attend a party.”

His stereotypical college girl jab aside, it sounded easy enough. But Claire knew better. Whatever kind of party it was, with Wesker involved, there would be danger, deception, and death at every angle…

Claire stared at the mirror, stunned. She wasn’t one to get dressed up, not this fancy anyway. Her red-brown hair was pulled up into messy curls with a few tresses hanging around her face. She had more make-up on than what she was used to. The jade-colored halter dress complimented her hair, eyes, and heels. She was only in the shoes for less than half an hour and her feet were already cramping. How did women wear these things all day?

The two assistants Ada had helping her with Claire were finally finished and departed from the big, spotless, and up-to-date bathroom. They were in Wesker’s living quarters in NEST. The younger Redfield tried not to think about what happened the last time she was here. Wesker and William awaited them in the very same room where she and Wesker fornicated, only having arrived a bit ago while Claire was still being made over.

Ada looked her over one last time, one final judgment for approval. Claire didn’t say anything. She really wanted out of this bathroom, but at the same time, she wasn’t ready for the next step.

Apparently, the crooked STARS Captain had meticulously planned tonight. Chris and Jill were working graveyard shifts while he was off and Claire had to tell her brother that she might would have to stay the night at William’s house babysitting Sherry if her parents had to work all night. All the chess pieces were in place so far. Bard’s Christmas party would last well into the night, and depending on how it played out, they might be there awhile. She could only hope nothing went wrong and would get to return home tonight.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Claire. There’s no doubt about that,” Ada said finally.

“T-Thanks.” She wasn’t expecting a compliment from the older woman.

She looked in the mirror again, distracted. This was a little too much for her, but she had to blend in with the other guests at the party.

“I won’t be surprised if Albert takes you home with him tonight after the party.”

Claire blushed, taken off guard, a near panic in her chest only broken by blood rushing like electricity through her veins. She turned to the double agent, holding her breath. Ada sounded so sure as she looked Claire over. As if she knew something the younger Redfield didn’t. Surely, Ada didn’t know…

“I know what happened between you two,” Ada admitted, reading her mind.

“He,” Claire started to blame her captor, but stopped. Could she honestly say it knowing she had decided to do it? Wesker may have manipulated her into wanting to, but she still chose it all her own, no matter how much she wanted to deny it.

“He what?”

She shook her head. “…Nothing.”

“I told you he always gets what he wants, didn’t I? He’ll make you want it, too. That tongue of his is far more deadly than any weapon he has on him. You have no idea how way in over your head you are, Claire.”

The college student glared at the Eurasian beauty. Was she serious right now?! “You’ve got it all wrong! It was just a one time fling. And as far as the rest of my situation goes, I think I’ve been doing pretty damn good considering!”

Ada sighed. “You’re clever, strong, and resourceful. You’ve handled yourself impressively this past week, but that’s partly why Albert’s so infatuated with you.”

Claire frowned, not sure what to say to that.

“Albert’s hardwired to manipulate and take advantage of anyone and anything he can. You give him an inch and he’ll hook his claws so deep in you, there’s no escape. You gave him way more than that.”

“So what? I’m trapped forever now? Is that what you’re saying?” Dread seized in her chest.

Ada looked to the door, as if suddenly paranoid Wesker and William could be listening in and slightly lowered her voice. “I don’t know. Look…yes, he’s using you to take care of Roth in exchange for your freedom, but William and I suspect that Albert may have developed…”

“What?” Claire urged when the agent trailed off.

Ada quickly shook her head, frowning. “Never mind. Just…keep your head. Do what you must to get Roth where Albert wants him for you and your brother’s freedom. Albert’s got a soft spot for you, he’ll likely keep his word if you’re good. As far as this affair is concerned, I cannot help you. That’s your business. My only advice is that you be careful.”

Soft spot? Where the hell was she getting that? There was nothing soft about that man. Then again, she and William, two people who knew Wesker best, kept saying that, so it had to be true to some degree.

Claire wanted to tell Ada that there wasn’t an “affair”. It was a one time slip up, a mistake, it wouldn’t happen ever again. But she couldn’t even believe herself, so there was no way she would convince the double agent.

“Ok…thank you, Ada. For everything.”

Ada exhaled through a small frown. “Don’t thank me just yet…” She turned, walking for the door and motioning for the younger Redfield to follow her. “C’mon, we have a party to get to.”

Claire inhaled deeply, gathering herself, and followed her out of the bathroom. They came into the den, where Wesker and William sat across from each other on the leather sofas talking. They were dressed in posh black suits. Claire berated herself for goggling Wesker. The bastard was so damn attractive anyway, but that suit was hot! She couldn’t believe how much it actually affected her seeing him in that outfit.

The men noticed them and stood up, but their eyes immediately went to Claire. She suddently felt exposed. William’s jaw dropped and he ogled too. The smirk that slowly grew on Wesker’s face as he took off his sunglasses to look Claire over was wicked. More so, it was hungry. He popped William’s mouth shut without taking his eyes off of Claire and closed in like a predator about to sink its teeth into its coveted prey. His eyes entrapped her, an instant, breath-taking spell, and then she was hungry too, felt it spreading through every inch of her body like wildfire.

Ada was right…Wesker would be taking her home with him tonight. And nothing was going to stop him.

[anotherdndblog]

Fictober Day 14 But Late Tho: 28- “do I have to do everything here?”

Title: Coffee Beans and Silver Strings

Chapter 3: The Gaps In Our Hearts

Words: 1309

Fandom: TAZ Amnesty

Characters/Pairing: Sternclay

Rating: T

Tags: Canon divergence, coffee shop AU, mall AU, Barclay is still bigfoot tho, idiots to lovers

Summary: Barclay continues to pine, Stern works at a certain well-known clothing store

Author's note: I’m obsessed with Sternclay at the moment. 

Link to AO3 

____________________________________

Barclay listened to Stern. Oh, boy, did he listen. He listened for literally his entire lunch break, and then he listened while there were no customers in the shop. But never once did he tire. It was a little strange, listening to Stern’s wild outlandish theories on cryptids and why they stay hidden--but it was almost comforting knowing that people were so far off. If people still thought Bigfoot lived in the woods of California, Barclay was doing a pretty damn good job not being as reckless and stupid as he was in his youth. 

After a while, Stern got embarrassed and started tripping over his words as he stumbled to a halt, realizing that Barclay hadn’t said a thing the whole time--and Barclay found the gesture rather adorable. “Sorry, once I start I really can’t stop…” Stern looked down bashfully, his cheeks growing pink. 

Barclay laughed, but it wasn’t directed at Stern, it was awkward and a little forced, trying to make Stern feel a little more comfortable. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s pretty cool that you have something you’re so passionate about. The only thing I’m passionate about is coffee,” he joked lightly, a shy smile on his face. 

Stern folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, finding an opportunity to change the subject. He was sitting at the table nearest to the cash register, so he could continue to talk to Barclay when there was the opportunity to do so. It was nearing closing, and Barclay was wiping down the countertops with Aubrey. “Really? Just coffee? There’s gotta be something else.” 

Barclay shrugged. “I mean, I guess I really like cooking, but-” 

“Cooking? That’s awesome! Do you want to be a cook?” 

Barclay laughed slightly. ‘I mean, I kind of am. I make some of the pastries and things we sell here. It’s really just a hobby, though.” 

“Just a hobby? You don’t want to be a cook?” 

Barclay shook his head. “Not really. I like the job I have here.” It’s comfortable, like a safe space, but Barclay didn’t add that. It would be too hard to explain why he didn’t want to work somewhere else, where his bracelet could get damaged or break and his secret would be blasted to all his coworkers. It was nicer to work in a place where people already knew. 

Stern raised an eyebrow. “You don’t dream of working somewhere, I don’t know, not the mall?” Stern leaned back in his chair, fidgeting idly with the strings of his hoodie, and Barclay realized he had never really seen Stern in casual clothing before. He always wore a nicely pressed button-up and slacks, with his hair perfectly gelled. But today, he was wearing a simple grey hoodie and jeans. It was nice to see him more relaxed. Based on Stern’s usual attire, Barclay assumed he worked at somewhere fancy, like the Men’s Warehouse on the east end of the mall. 

And it was then that Barclay realized he didn’t really know where Stern worked. It had never really come up in conversation, and Barclay never asked. Barclay bit his lip and looked away. “Not really. I like it here. And working for Mama is great.” 

Stern blinked several times. “You call your boss Mama?” 

“Yeah, it’s kind of what everyone calls her.” 

“Oh. Ok…” Stern’s face twisted in confusion, and he absolutely had no idea what to say to that. 

Barclay paused in wiping down the counters and leaned over the edge. “Where do you work? Do you like it there?”

“Oh, I’m a manager at a clothing store on the east side of the mall,” Stern said cryptically, but Barclay was just happy that he was correct. Those Men’s Warehouse people were always overdressed--and also incredibly pretentious, not like Stern, but Barclay still got the sense that Stern would fit in with that crowd. Stern looked at his watch. ‘Speaking of work, I have it tomorrow. And I should probably get out of your hair-” 

“Can I steal my coworker for a moment?” Aubrey cut Stern off, grabbing Barclay’s arm from behind and pulling it close. Barclay looked at Aubrey in surprise, but all she did was smile in response. 

Stern blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure. I’ll just… wait to say my goodbyes?” 

“Yeah, perfect, do that.” Aubrey pulled Barclay away and began whispering to him. “You have to get his phone number! This is your chance!” 

“What? No! I don’t want to ambush him,” Barclay whispered back in a rough tone. 

“Do I have to do everything around here? Barclay! You’ve been pining for this man for months. If you don’t get his number, I will, don’t test me.” Aubrey gestured to Stern, which made it so obvious what they were whispering about. Barclay felt his cheeks warm as Stern looked up from his bag and the two made eye contact before quickly looking away. 

“Ok, ok, alright, I’ll do it. I’ll ask.” Barclay gently pushed Aubrey away, who was grinning profusely. 

“Good boy. I’m going to go to the back for… I don’t know, coffee beans. Good luck!” Aubrey winked and disappeared to the back of the store. 

Barclay took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Stern. “Sorry about that. Uh… it was about tomorrow’s menu…?” 

“You had to whisper about the menu?” 

“It’s very secret. So, uh, listen, I’d really like to hear more about your blog sometime. Is there…” Barclay cleared his throat “...is there somewhere I can contact you, or?” 

There was a twinkle in Stern’s eyes, and his lips parted into a smile. “Are you asking for my phone number?” 

Barclay shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. “I suppose I am.” 

“Well, then, it’s your lucky day.” 

Barclay and Stern messaged for the rest of the night after that. Literally, Barclay was glued to his phone. Aubrey teased him mercilessly for it, but Barclay didn’t mind. He felt like his useless flirting was actually getting him somewhere--like maybe he really did deserve to be in a happy, healthy relationship. Even Bigfoot can love, right?

The next morning quickly arrived, and Barclay got to work bright and early to serve Stern his coffee--er, serve coffee to all his customers, who he definitely cared about equally. But at his lunch break, he decided to do something a little out of his comfort zone. 

He decided to go find Stern at work. 

Normally, he wouldn’t be so awkwardly aggressive. He didn’t want to scare Stern off. But the two were really hitting it off, and he wanted to maybe ask Stern to get something other than coffee with him. Like a date. But he didn’t want to do that over the phone. 

So, Men’s Warehouse. He took a deep breath as he stood outside, psyching himself up before going in. This was ok. The worst Stern could say was no, right? And if he said no, Barclay would just leave it alone. It wasn’t like he was a creep or something, right? Barclay took one more deep breath for good measure and stepped inside the store. 

One quick sweep around showed no Stern. So Barclay walked around the store. No Stern. Several other people tried to help him, but he refused. Until he realized that this was a lost cause, and maybe Stern was in the back or something, so he stopped someone. “Hi, um, I’m looking for a Joseph Stern, I think he works here?” 

The employee gave Barclay a confused expression and looked him up and now. “Um, no one like that works here, sorry.” And with that, the employee just walked away. 

Oh. 

Barclay had to collect himself before exiting the store, a million thoughts in his head, but only one was nagging and persistent. 

Why would Stern lie about where he worked?

[prodigiousvisions]

Headcanon/Divergence? [1] (Yosano): Childhood, The Great War, and life after the war.

Initial disclaimer and semi-related note(s)–

So if part of this looks familiar to you, that’s probably because you read it before in its original, rudimentary state. I have quite a few regrets of impulsively deleting my Yosano blog (vivificamortem) tbh due to having an episode, and one of them was not saving the original post of this when I first wrote it. That being said I still think it’s important enough to warrant a rewrite even if I don’t exactly recall the specifics. As this eventually becomes very Fukuzawa and Ranpo orientated/centric, I just want to make it clear this will not apply to your respective muses of these two unless we discuss it. These are considered backstory supplements and characterizations of Yosano and Yosano’s main verse. She does not have mains for Ranpo or Fukuzawa at this time, and I usually... don’t do mains? But for specifics like this, this would probably apply to potential, future mains and warrant mains of these two. If that makes sense. Anyway. This will also include a bunch of new HC details I didn’t have before.

I was going to be mean and not put this under a cut lol but I’ll be merciful since it is extremely thorough and lengthy. 2,300+ words lengthy, and that’s not including this disclaimer. I know I asked people to read this once finished but realistically I cannot ask that in good conscious unless you are genuinely interested/care and actually are into BSD lol. Fleshed out details+conceptualized explanations/characterization below. Content/mention warnings for suicide ideation + attempts, and neglect.

CHILDHOOD

Yosano was an only child. She was not a beloved child, a planned child, nor a wanted child. Her parents would have been inclined to give her away instantly had they not compromised to raise her as a sort of... ‘help’ for the couple’s wagashi shop. It was a regret far before the first sleepless night when she was a baby, but they decided to grin and bear it. Raising Yosano was an arduous task and they made it very clear in how they behaved toward her as she was growing up. Saying that she was simply neglected wouldn’t even begin to describe it. In response to this, as a young girl Yosano developed a loud, brash personality that would more often than not get her in trouble both at school and with her parents. Being punished was never fun, but at least it garnered their attention for a little while before they went back to essentially ignoring her presence. Her adapted personality would not lead to any fruition for her lonely soul at school either, most kids finding her annoying, scary, or would simply view her in scorn for being so outspoken and strange. She began to believe the outlook of her parents: her only use was to be a shopkeep of the family business. The girl debated with herself often what was the worth of life, what was the point to live, if not to live and be frowned down upon at every other moment. Troubled and depressed, Yosano tries her hardest to cope, keeping her chin up but her eyes glued to the floor when in seclusion.

At some point or another Yosano and her parents find out about her ability and the extent of it all. It freaks Yosano out at the start, thinking about how ridiculous it is that someone who contemplated on a daily basis what they truly benefited out of being alive could potentially alter the fate of someone’s life and grant them a second chance. Then for once, she finds worth in herself. It wasn’t something she could actively go and show off of course, but it gave her a purpose. Her dramatized exterior of self-entitlement and loudmouthedness proceeds on of course, but her outlook begins to shift. She has hope. She can do something good for people. And have a (figurative) place doing so. 

This new purpose was an open door opportunity not only for Yosano, but her parents as well. At the first opportunity to do so as they are tired of taking care of this child, they’re quick to send her off, knowing how valuable that ability and its potential was. In this case, it was the military (either catching wind of her ability or deciding to now call on her due to the necessary role in their war strategy) demanding for Yosano to take part personally. It was a ridiculously easy feat to get their permission to send her away. She was technically no longer their responsibility while she was away. Hell, they hoped she would never come back.

She wouldn’t. And that was that. That was the last time she ever saw and would be in contact with her parents.

THE GREAT WAR

It’s worth reminding everyone that Yosano was a child, and the gravity of her new circumstances didn’t quite dawn on her before it was too late. At the start, she was excited to show that she could have worth and be surrounded by people that would appreciate her for what she did. It would be the first time in all of her life that would happen. And it is for these very reasons that she has such strong, genuine, sincere reactions during the chapters/times she is midst the war. While maintaining her semi huffy and self-imposed air, she was also able to allow it to falter a little because for once, she didn’t need to resort to that to be paid attention to. In their initial praise, it did freak her out at first, the foreignness being so strange to her. But she appreciated it, she truly did. (Note: this obviously doesn’t apply to Mori lol.) The unnamed soldier that Yosano interacts with at this time especially strikes a chord with her. His kindness makes her think that maybe if she was fortunate enough, she would have liked to have someone like that as a brother. Maybe someone like that could have stopped the pain she’d endured with her parents. But that was in the past! He was lending her more toward the perspective of hope just as he told her that she was doing for him and the other soldiers. The creation of the butterfly clip, again, freaks her out because she’s unsure how to react to kind gestures. It is the first of its kind– a present, meaningful in its weight and sentiment in a way that she would learn later would continue to influence her life in various, monumental ways. His present interest in poetry is also something that Yosano would find herself enjoying, too. At the time.

Honestly, I really don’t even think it’s worth elaborating on Mori cause. Well. That whole ordeal speaks for itself. His manipulation and obsession grosses her out at its minimum / start and would later be the colossal trigger and collapse of her mental stability and lead to lasting trauma even as an adult. But anyways, back to other details worth note in this timeframe.

The war efforts proceed and we reach the point where things are looking grim and soldiers are getting near fatally injured faster, and coming back in droves. She realizes rather quickly that she bit off more than she can chew; to have to bear witness to these men being on the brink of death and quickly ‘revive’ them like some sort of automated robot would, naturally, mess up anyone. Her haughty behavior drops quickly as she becomes more quiet, tired, horror creeping up her body gradually in the form of slowly raising goosebumps. She’s wondering when the war will be over, and starts to second guess her purpose. Is what she’s doing right? But she’s not hit rock bottom, not yet at least, as the unnamed soldier reassures her the second instance. He relays how her saving him would bring him back to his family. He tells her: “I’m glad that you’re here.” And it makes way for Yosano’s first instance of ever crying in front of someone, feeling an overwhelming amount of gratitude to being seen and the need to trudge forward to protect. Protect those who had a life to return to. He’d been living proof of the importance of life– that life wasn’t always so cruel to others, that she had a chance to be surrounded by those who cared about her too. She cries in her vulnerability.

Things turn for the worst. Every day is a living nightmare. She can wipe away blood from her body, others’ body, but she will never be clean of the endless pools of blood that stained her hands after her treatments. Even at the age of 11, she comes to the realization that she is the single force that shackles all these people to the torture of having to throw themselves into battle again and again for futile efforts. She’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown constantly, but consoles herself with the thought that the unnamed soldier will be able to tell her it’s alright, maybe even help her figure out a way to get them all out of there. Yosano doesn’t want her ability, hell, she’d opt to having no purpose over this. She would trade her life for all of these people. She just needed this to stop. It’s all her fault. 

The person who was the embodiment of her last shred of sanity and piece of hope commits suicide and dubs her the Angel of Death, and that was her final breaking point. The sliver of belief that providing good for people and having a purpose is ultimately gone. Her worldview that she started to have hope for shatters. It was a cumulative, gradual raise of hope for a better life to have it all smashed to the ground. This tied in with the actual events she lived through, clearly, do not help. Trauma blocks it out of her memory later on, but there are plentiful, deliberate suicide attempts from the young girl afterward, wanting out of this hell that her own hands allowed to bear fruit, but for various circumstances and reasons, her attempts would not work and/or she would simply not be allowed to die at Mori’s hands. She is a hysterical, screaming, crying mess until she is no longer able to cry anymore. If not suicide, then alternative methods. Yosano would attempt to blow the ship up with the explosives that were stored at the bottom – it would have been a far crueler end than prolonging everyone’s destined death, but ultimately fails at that as well. 

LIFE AFTER THE WAR

She is apprehended and taken away to an institution where she spends three years in a void of a space, living on earth as if her spirit has long been faded. She is a shell of a person, succumbed to her own despair and doing the absolute bare minimum. Humanity only ever makes itself present in jaded eyes that blink sometimes and the agonizingly slow rise and fall of her chest to indicate that somehow, she was breathing. Living, but not alive. Not really, anyway. She may as well be rotting away, unkempt, unpure, and wishing life would simply put her out of her misery. Devoid of any hope, feeling death would be a start of repenting for her crimes. But it was never that easy. Why would it be? 

Ranpo and Fukuzawa rescue her. We all know how that goes. Let’s touch on some details of after that. 

After rescuing her, the duo have Yosano reside with them in Fukuzawa’s apartment. While Ranpo and Fukuzawa managed to recover a glimmer of hope in Yosano by rescuing her alone, the hope is discarded as she feels she is unworthy of it and they essentially are put in a position where they have to rehabilitate her. These two people cared enough about her to try to help her– she can see it, despite going about like a walking corpse some days. But guilt is overbearing, suffocating, and it shakes her down with constant night terrors that she is too drained to scream at as well as frequent moments where she blacks out without prompting. At this time, the butterfly clip she dares not to remove from her person is a reminder, a grim heavy burden she forces herself to carry on her shoulders that she was not a good person and that this was her karma and hers alone. She should not forget that no matter how good intentioned Ranpo and Fukuzawa were to her. There was absolutely at least one more time she attempted to take her life. Needless to say, it’s a painstakingly slow process, taking about a full year before Yosano can even start to really improve outside of talking to them here and there. 

(I feel like this behavior / state is EXTREMELY similar to how Kyouka starts off as, too, so my Yosano would definitely take to Kyouka more strongly than some others. But that is an entirely different conversation for some other time.)

Once she gets to a point where she can process things again and forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that these two will simply not allow her to remain dormant, Ranpo takes to tutoring her to help get her back on track to where she left off in her schooling, as she was getting stable enough to where Fukuzawa had confidence she could get better. This process was also slow, but Ranpo is quite the good teacher when he wants to be! The endeavor is a success, and she is able to enroll again in public school, where she is still piecing together why she was granted this second chance at life. It feels pitifully ironic, all things considered. As time does, it also grants an opportunity for growth and change. Eventually, she gradually shakes her way out of her shell at snail’s pace. Some days were still harder than others, of course. Getting poetry assignments would make Yosano have full on anxiety attacks where the only solutions of getting her to calm down were to have Ranpo or Fukuzawa at her side, or if at school and neither were present, to be sent home. These instances lessened over time, thankfully, and the episodes would turn to bitter, depressing moments where Yosano would tense up and try to pass it off to Ranpo if she was able in a way that while seemed lukewarm in how she expressed it, certainly held its weight of obvious trauma. 

(She never liked to talk about her issues. Never. And instead almost always opted for distractions as her method of coping. It is a major flaw of hers that you can absolutely call her out for even in present time.)

Yosano will never truly return to being 100% normal, but that’s fine, as she really was never at 100% anyway. Schooling in its own right helped her cope with things and served as a distraction from negative thoughts, and she found herself enjoying it and studying harder than ever before. Assisting in the preliminaries of helping around the detective agency also allowed her to grow into the figurative seat that Ranpo saved just for her. No longer did she have to be abrasive to garner people’s attention, either, becoming more comfortable with an occasional snarky tongue when the situation allowed it, and slowly being allowed to live as herself for the first time. It was truly shocking to see that people liked her for her and not the potential of weaponizing the dangerous ability that she had. Once more was her ambition to help people reignited, but it would be done on her own terms. Compelled by her convictions as schooling was coming to a close, she decided that she would go to pursue higher education at a university while formally getting a degree to become a doctor. It is then when she got accepted that her new self would truly shine, becoming as close as she could to be at peace. This endeavor was sped up to lightning fast speeds because of her drilled in skill of being all the more studious and essentially holding the knowledge of what it entailed already.

Not necessarily integral details, but while in university, she did pick up the hobbies of taking up Kickboxing Classes as well as Dance Classes and are longstanding interests of hers that she maintains even after finishing her schooling. These, too, serve(d) as time slot distractions to keep her thoughts at bay when her mind decided to be a little cruel to her at some moments. Poetry no longer leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and is now a newfound interest of hers. She even writes poetry of her own at times. As of present time, her butterfly clip is still a symbol of burden she chooses to carry and a reminder, but it is also representative of metamorphosis, a chance at a new beginning– a new life. That there was value in life, and that you should live on for those who could not.

[nellynee]

FowlPlayAU (aka Miraculous Peacock Marinette AU)

Literally no one asked but I don’t care. An AU in which Marinette holds the Peacock Miraculous

This actually developed from a few different threads that I tugged on over the course of a few months.

I guess the starting point for this was probably the season 1 episode “Simon Says” with the very short but profound moment of understanding between Gabriel and Ladybug over the pedestal they both placed Adrien on and the subsequent really, really heavy handed comparisons everyone kept making towards everyone else about who resembled Emilie the most

Basically I thought this episode was the heaviest seed in the narrative of the parallels between Gabriel and Marinette, both fashion career focused workaholics who take way to much responsibility on their own shoulders and get obsessive to the point of destructiveness over their respective, similar love interests, and using those parallels as a point of interest in showing both Marinette's growth as she moves beyond that destructive mentality and towards regarding Adrien as a person and how Gabriel’s “love conquers all” mentality isn’t an inherently positive thing but no. *sigh* no, they needed more screen time for one time characters. It fleshes out the world,yes, but not the characters. LOTS of interesting long term threads were dropped in favor of broadening the cast to try and shoehorn that “kid superhero group” into the show that was originally tossed. Basically I’m saying that I do think Gabriel and Marinette have enough in common to surprise some people, including each other, and I’m a sucker for intergenerational friendships

The second main factor was the small subplot at the time of Gabriel suspecting Adrien of being Cat Noir. I got really interested after “Gorizilla” about what might actually happen if Gabriel did figure out that Adrien was Cat Noir at that point in the series (I have words about Cat Blanc, trust me. No those words aren’t “throw the whole mess out the window” because I actually love it. But many, many words) Going off the heavy handed implications that Emilie was the former Peacock, I thought it would be interesting, and in character, for Gabriel desperately analyze his son’s behavior as Cat Noir, trying to figure out WTF Adrien thinks he’s doing, only to realize that Cat Noir has some pretty obvious affections for Ladybug. This is unacceptable of course, but understandable in a “he’s a hormone ridden, teenage boy, and Gabriel was once too the same sort of boy in love with the same sort of heroin” sort of way. The obvious answer to getting rid of what is the only possible obstacle for his son’s cooperation (I was going off the pilot with the potential of Cat Noir as a Hawkmoth agent because of their familial connections) is to get rid of his affections, and since it has to be shallow, he’s too young and also Gabriel controls his whole life so it can’t be love, then all he has to do is shift his son’s affections. Cue an uncomfortable number of episodes in which Gabriel subtly inserts a B plot into his Akumatized villains by trying to push various girl together with his son in carefully controlled circumstances. Because this is before Kasumi, and again, those nice parallels between Marinette and Gabriel himself, he eventually after trial and error settles on Marinette as the perfect candidate. Thus, we get a series of hilarious situations in which Marinette and Adrien are pushed more and more into high pressure uncomfortable and intimate situations, losing time and ability to turn into their superhero personas as a natural deterrent to power creep and justifying the use of other Miraculous users a lot more. 

I saw someone comment in one of their author’s notes on a fic a long time ago that they hated the trope of Marinette being an emotional Atlas and my instantaneous internal response that that kinda WAS Marinette's character early series, especially the origin episode, and that a lot of the most prevalent fics were written in that time period, and that really intense response from me really stuck. 

Peacock aesthetic. yup, that alone gets an equal piece of the pie 

So yeah, if any of that interests you, keeping in mind that on top of potential sympathy and understanding of his actions, Gabriel is still absolutly a shitty person, then the actual (canon divergent) AU is under the cut.

The actual thing diverts during Stone Heart, in which the moment Marinette decided to become Ladybug for realsies rather than try to faust it off Alya doesn’t happen. Rather than deciding to put on the earings, Marinette distracts the monster enough they can get away. Alya finds the earings, and takes up the Mantle of Ladybug.

This decidedly marks a regression in Marinette. Where as Ladybug, and with Tiki’s constant assurances and influence, Marinette learns to work past her urges to take responsibility for everyone’s emotions, Marinette has now lost that constant companion, and has to deal to with her new best friend’s time being diverted

Cut forward to “Stormy Weather” and Marinette has fallen into a vicious cycle of guilt. The little creature had told her it was her destiny to be Ladybug. And while we know that the situation with Hawkmoth is not much different than it is in canon, Marinette is totally convinced that the only reason Hawkmoth is still around hurting people is because she rejected the call. That guilt has built into a feeling of impotent inadequacy that convinces her that she’s no longer deserving of the Ladybug roll, and so she’s both unable to do anything, and responsible for Hawkmoth still being around. 

The most prevalent of episode changes is Lady Wifi. It’s Marinette who’s akumatized, not Alya, and it’s a fairly traumatizing, but empowering experience for Marinette. 

The ultimate culmination of this is this universe’ “Volpina” episode, where, in the background of main battle events, Marinette gains an understanding of the suspicions that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth, and in the climax of the battle, believing Adrien in danger, she confronts him, confirming his alter ego. 

In a scene I have no time to actually extrapolate on, if your curious, just ask, Gabriel and Marinette come to a tentative understanding. He’ll give her the powers to protect his son, and she’ll actually have some sort of control in her life again. This akumatization takes the form of a faux Peacock Miraculous. 

This marks the first half of her partnership as an antihero with Hawkmoth. (and yes, I do have the mechanics of how he can akumatized more than one person at a time without Catalyst, which will be extrapolated upon request, but this is long enough already)

Again, I wanna draw attention to those Sweet, Sweet Marinette and Gabriel parallels. Gabriel, through half truths and carefully peppered moments of emotional manipulation and practiced vulnerability, attempts to B plot Marinette into stealing the Miraculouses. Believing herself to be at least somewhat in his thrall, Marinette allows herself to empathize with his plight, and they build a surprising, if strained, raport. 

After discovering that she is not, in fact, under Hawkmoth’s control Marinette rebels just long enough to have Hawkmoth take back his Akuma, and Marinette caves the next time Adrien is in Genuine Danger, stealing the real Peacock Miraculous and using it.

This marks the second half of their partnership, and Hawkmoth reveals that the miraculous is broken, and Marinette is now dying from it’s use, and that her only choice of survival is to help him make his wish. This evens out the power balance, at they both now have the same goals and powers independent of each other, but also ups ante. 

That’s the most tldr general of overview, with other more specific highlights like

Ladybug!Alya having to reach her own emotional maturity, her earlier stint as a hero leaving her with a much bigger ego in terms of how she perceives her impact of the morale of the city and where her priorities lie in trying to boost that morale vs her personal needs. Ladybug!Alya tries too hard to take notes from already established heroes and public images. She still runs the Ladyblog, Spiderman style.

After quickly realizing (after some confusion) that the Ladybug he fought Stoneheart with the last time is not the same as the one he fought the first time with, Adrien gets a big old case of the pining sighs

Early series Adrien and Alya are both not the type to value secret identities, and so yes, they do reveal said identities to each other fairly early.

They also can both keep a fucking secret, so it works. They are secret BFFs

After the first time Adrien is rescued by the mysterious Peacock Holder, he figures out that whoever she is, she’s the original Ladybug, and more and more ends up distracted and drawn away from fights by her, the perfect reason for Alya to have to bring in other miraculous users. (the interactions tend to take place on moonlit balconies. There’s heavy Pilot influences here)

Marinette does this thing where she spreads her fan when she’s startled and hides her face. Mostly because Cat Noir wont stay out of it. The miraculous’ memory means she tends to fan speak a lot. Symbolism

Speaking of symbolism, the character designs are rife with them. I know exactly what Peacock Marinette looks like and there’s a reason for everything.

The subplot where (inspired by the pilot) Cat Noir finds out that there used to be a curse on the ring that could only be lifted by a kiss from Ladybug (thanks to her creation/retcon powers). Cat Noir convinces (inaccurately) himself that his destruction powers can totally do something similar with Hawkmoth’s mind control now all he needs is to kiss the Peacock user and she’ll be free! She’s totes not a bad guy!

Yes, Marinette does get a different miraculous ala being an episode helper, and her emotions are complicated about it

And other fun tidbits. This got way to long but I’m more than willing to extrapolate on anything more specific that anyone is curious about

[laschatzi]

My fic masterlist

Here I’ve listed all my fics - list is constantly updated. Here you find the summaries and ratings - fics without an M or E-rating are all G. The ff.net and ao3 links are included in every fic if you click on the link.

I tried to list them in a way that makes most sense... if you’re looking for more specifications like hurt/comfort etc., word count, just click on the link.

Multichapters (there’s only one so far):

Smooth Sailing (With A Chance Of Definite Passion) (M) Set post 3x22 - I wanted to explore the question where the relationship was going without obstacles like Elsa and Marian. Later, though, other obstacles might appear, because as we know - there’s always a crisis. My very first CS fic, 12 chapters.

Fics with three or more parts:

So Far And Out Of Sight (M in the epilogue) A post 3x20 canon divergence in five parts: Zelena’s portal never opens, and so Emma never has the revelation about missing her parents and Storybrooke being her home. She takes Henry back to New York, just like she’s planned, determined to go back to their life during the missing year. But with her blissful ignorance gone and Henry being less than cooperative, it’s not as easy as she thought. And then someone comes knocking at her door, determined to make it even less easy…

Cute Little Heartbreaker (M in part 4) Modern AU in 4 parts: Emma Swan is a vagabond. She never stays in a place longer than for six months. The night before the first day at her new job, she decides she needs a little distraction and walks into a bar looking for a one-night-stand and finds her object of choice in a good-looking guitar player. Oh, and he sings, too. From that moment on, nothing goes as planned.

Never Hurts (M in part 2) Modern AU in 3 parts, based on a prompt: We are coworkers who hate each other, but on the staff Christmas party you drunkenly confessed your feelings for me, and now I don’t know how to act around you (except, Killian knows exactly how to act). This is also a Christmas fic.

You Can Walk Under My Umbrella Modern AU: 3 parts, based on the prompt  “I forgot my umbrella and you offered to walk me home in the rain and I thought this would be the beginning of a cute love story but you’re really shit at this oh my god my shoulder is so wet, hold the damn thing properly wth man”

Neverland fics:

Sugar And Spice Killian is preoccupied that Emma endangers herself by eating something she doesn’t know. Turns out, actually it’s something he doesn’t know. Set somewhere pre-kiss.

Trying Something New The Nevengers have arrived on Neverland only shortly ago, when Killian overhears a conversation between Emma and her mother about whether it’s really wise to trust a pirate.

Fair Fight The day before the big showdown with Pan to get Henry back, he finally confronts Emma with the fact that her sword fighting skills are not as good as she thought. Is she willing to take lessons from him?

In Pain, In Need Set after Killian’s betrayal of Ursula. He returns to the accursed island full of more self-loathe than ever. Tinkerbell tries to help.

Not The Time To Be Jealous Observing a conversation between Killian and Tinkerbell causes Emma to think back to Neverland and her jealousy of the fairy. 

I Bathe Quite Frequently Emma goes to a lake to refresh herself a little before the final battle with Pan. Killian had the same idea, and she just can’t keep herself from watching. 

Christmas fics:

Since We’ve No Place To Go Modern AU: After a car accident in the middle of nowhere of rural Maine, Emma Swan almost freezes to death, but is rescued by a three-legged dog named Smee and his grumpy master Killian Jones who can’t seem to get rid of her soon enough to have his self-chosen hermitage back.

Pardon The Way That I Stare Modern AU: When Emma Swan meets Killian Jones, he seems to be too good to be true. Good she doesn’t have to ponder over it, but then she meets him again.

Home Alone or How The Grinch Found Christmas Modern AU: Emma Swan and Killian Jones both planned to visit their siblings for Christmas… both were thwarted by the weather. Does it have to be a lonely Christmas for them?

And A Teaspoonful Of Love The first Christmas Day dinner at Emma’s and Killian’s new house, and Killian and Snow get into a fight over the perfect recipe for Christmas Pudding. Will this end well?

Belated Gifts (M) Holiday smut about unwrapping the wrong gifts.

Never Hurts (M in part 2) Modern AU in 3 parts, based on a prompt: We are coworkers who hate each other, but on the staff Christmas party you drunkenly confessed your feelings for me, and now I don’t know how to act around you (except, Killian knows exactly how to act).

Mistletoe And Wine (M) More holiday smut. Emma is giving Killian a hard time while putting up their first Christmas tree. Until he has enough.

Let Your Heart Be Light Killian and Emma are about to celebrate their first Christmas together and realize that it’s their first truly happy one.

Dark One fics:

Dark One Lies, Dark One Tricks A spec fic about Dark Killian having a secret agenda, and that is to save Emma and destroy the darkness.

It Creeps Up In You The fight of the darkness Vs. the light inside Emma, a spec fic written from the darkness’s POV.

Broken Toy What if the Dark Swan wasn’t able to save Killian in time after he jumped off the roof in 5x08?

Exit Light, Enter Night, Take My Hand (M) Killian is still trying to find a way to save the Savior gone dark. A spec fic written before we knew that he was a Dark One, too.

Other one-shots or two-parters, smutty (some are M, some E, some in between):

In My Wildest Dreams Emma just can’t get enough of Killian - quite literally. And that leads to her having a dream. And it’s wild. But also loving. (This is a threesome fic, so skip it if that’s not your thing. But it only happens in a dream, if the sort-of-cheating aspect is what puts you off.) 

Corruption And Consequences Driving lessons taking a turn? Idk my dudes, this is basically pwp, slightly kinky.

In The Good Way Yes, this is what you think it’s about. Handcuff shenanigans at the sheriff’s station.

Just Another AU Emma Swan has a stressful job and a demanding family, and sometimes she just needs to unwind. Killian Jones is always willing to help out when he gets a distress call.

In The Wee Hours, part 1 Emma wakes up in the middle of the night, and well… she just goes with the flow. This is very tender pwp.

In The Wee Hours, part 2 Killian wakes up from a pleasant dream only to find he isn’t really dreaming. Still very tender pwp.

A Hard Day’s Night Emma sends Killian an indecent selfie, and like Regina once said: never thinking of the consequences…

Fuzzy Feelings A neat pile of smuff, Killian’s fuzzy butt is the heart of this ficlet.

Where We Belong Set between 5x21 and 5x22, pretending there’s at least one day of peace to breathe and take care of some wounds before hell breaks loose again. Killian and Emma deal with the aftermath of being the Dark Ones.

Do You Think Of Me? Killian comes home from a sailing trip unexpectedly early and finds Emma engaging in a little self-love.

Up To No Good Emma claims that Killian is predictable. But is it really wise to challenge a pirate?

Consider Living A Life During the peaceful 6 weeks: When Killian doesn’t show up, Emma goes looking for him nervously - and walks in on him when he’s just leaving the shower, seeing him naked for the first time.

It’s In His Kiss Killian’s fingers are even talented enough to braid Emma’s hair. And there’s more.

The G-spot Killian learns something new about the modern world every day. For example, what a g-spot is.

That Damn Bar Wench I Kissed What if Killian actually remembers the encounter of his past self with Emma in the Enchanted Forest?

A Birthday To Remember Emma finds out by accident when Killian’s birthday is. He doesn’t want any fuss over it. Emma and Henry are having none of that. Set in season 4, before Killian got his ship back.

A Few Planks, A Sail, And A Red Vest After Killian gets his ship back, he and Emma inspect it and, when Emma finds a certain garment she remembers, reminisce on their adventure in the Enchanted Forest.

All Of The Hell I Had To Walk Through Set after 4x11 - how it should have gone after Emma restored Killian’s heart.

Other one-shots or two parters, non-smutty:

It’s Forever A ficlet set roughly in the peaceful six weeks between 4A and 4B. Smee is surprised when his Captain approaches him for a chat.

What His Captain Needs A ficlet set in 3x17. After his unsatisfying talk with Killian, Smee watches his Captain from afar talk to Emma Swan and her son. And suddenly he understands a few things.

Lay Your Weary Head To Rest Missing scene from 5x21. Right before moving on from the Underworld Killian meets his father. Can they forgive each other and find closure?

Hook’s Smooth An ode to Killian’s body hair... and Emma’s obsession with it.

A Sorrow That Never Was Said Snow discovers something about Killian's childhood and uses the occasion to assure him of his place in their family.

Not Today Killian’s state of mind right before he follows Emma through the portal in 3x21.

A Vision Softly Creeping Set post-wedding:  Killian keeps having nightmares he can’t quite remember. With Dr. Hopper’s help, he discovers one of the reasons for them, and that might require a painful, in-depth talk with Emma.

It’s You Set in 4x16: A continuation/divergence of the conversation Killian and Emma have about the wooden man child.

The Man You Want To Be Set after 6x10. Killian tells Emma story how he found out that he had a little half-brother. Yeah, painful. 

Thirteen Snow just wants to make sure that Emma is really happy. Slightly crack-ish fic about Emma being grilled by a curious Snow in the style of “Was there a goodnight kiss?” 

Privacy And Pancakes You’d think Snow has learned not to use her spare key. Well, she hasn’t. And this time, she brought David. 

Unhappy Beginnings During the peaceful 6 weeks after Gold’s banishment, Emma is determined to find out more about Killian’s beginnings.

Smiles A little 3x20 canon divergence where Killian is not left out at the hospital but is unexpectedly included.

The Past And All Its Scars After his return from Neverland, Killian finds that Emma has already packed away his belongings, and he’s upset. So much for always believing the best in him. A post 6x17 fix-it fic.

The Life That You’ve Lost Set in 3x12: A drabble about Emma’s thoughts and feelings right before she takes a leap of faith and drinks the stuff the weird leather-clad guy is offering her.

Family, Kind Of Alice Jones from Hyperion Heights, Seattle, comes to Storybrooke, Maine to finally meet the man who looks like her papa’s twin… and to hug the woman who saved his life.

The Way These Stories Go Set between 2x05 and 2x06: A glimpse into Killian’s thoughts and feelings during the walk from the ogre lawn to the beanstalk.  

A Part Of Something A post-3x20 canon divergence where Zelena’s portal never opens. Just when Emma has made up her mind about a possible future for herself and Henry in Storybrooke, she discovers that Killian is planning to leave.

Done With You While fighting Hook for the magical compass at Lake Nostos, Emma catches a glimpse of his soft side, and she thinks back to their last encounter in Rumple’s cell…

What This Family Does Killian comes back from Neverland, and some things should not be swept under the rug. Another 6x17 fix-it fic, because I felt that Killian deserved a little more than just being forgiven.

A Favor Returned Modern AU. Emma is scelebrating New Year’s Eve with her girls, and they are having fortune cookies of a special kind. A handsome, but infuriating stranger doesn’t help to lift the mood…

She’s A Marvel Killian wants to propose to Emma and is nervous about her reaction - but first, he has to seek approval from the other important men in her life: David and Henry.

Every Little Thing She Does Post Underworld: Emma’s magic goes haywire every time she and Killian get intimate, causing the power in Storybrooke go crazy. This doesn’t remain unnoticed.

All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here The rescue mission for Killian shows up in the Underworld. But first, they need to convince him that they’re not just one of Hades’s cruel tricks. Written as a spec fic before season 5 aired.

Dexterity Devotee Just a little anatomy study of Killian’s hand.

Not Black And another anatomy study of Killian’s hair.

That’s What They Said It takes Killian and Emma a long time, for various reasons, before they say the three little words to each other. But not really.

Home A little ficlet about the 3x22 kiss from Killian’s POV.

Lullaby Emma wonders why her daughter always wants Killian to bring her to bed.

Persistence Killian and David are sharing a beer and memories about memory losses and how not to break them.

Home Again Cross The Sea Killian takes Emma and Henry on a sailing trip.

Blown Fuses Modern AU in 2 parts: Emma Swan and her son Henry are on holidays in a secluded beach house at Cape Cod, away from people, just like she loves. Unfortunately, there are other beach houses for rent, too, and Henry has taken a liking to their temporary neighbor.

Little Girl Lost While Killian and David bicker, they lose sight of more important things, such as their children.

When You Love Them And They Love You After Emma takes the darkness and disappears, Killian’s first impulse is to set sails and go find her. Mary Margaret wants to convince him that they have to do it together - as a family.

More Than Words Modern AU: After another breakup, Emma moves into a shabby apartment. Every night, she hears someone playing guitar and singing through the air vent. She never believed you could fall in love with a voice.

Save Me From The Nothing I Become Set in 2x14/2x15: What happened after Emma knocked Hook out in New York and chained him in a basement room?

Lie Down With Me A little daddy Killian ficlet.

Sleepless Emma can’t sleep, several talks she had with Killian are weighing on her mind.

Expecting Sequel to Sleepless: Killian’s reaction to Emma’s news.

Rotten A little 4x11 divergence where Emma defeats Gold and restores Killian’s heart and assures him that it is, indeed, not rotten.  

Black As The Devil, Hot As Hell Sequel to Rotten: Emma and Killian go on their second date. This time, the loft isn’t as crowded as the last time, and so she invites him in, for coffee.

[brendan-block]

Tagged by @xbrokenxglassxandxpurplexskinx 

NAME: Amanda GENDER:  Female EYE COLOR: Green HAIR COLOR:  Auburn RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single ZODIAC: Capricorn FAVORITE COLOR: Blue FAVORITE SEASON: Winter FAVORITE PLACE: My bedroom FAVORITE HOLIDAY:  Halloween FAVORITE VIDEO GAME: Tomb Raider series LAST SHOW YOU WATCHED: Tangled: The Series

WHAT’S YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: First and foremost, he’s a disgusting piece of shit who deserves every bad thing that happens to him because KARMA, BITCH. He has the potential to be a better person and he’s shown plenty times that he does have a heart inside somewhere, but he only ever shows that side of himself when he wants to; he only ever acts nice or does something good for someone else when he wants to, and most of the time he simply doesn’t feel like it because he’s a selfish prick who thinks everyone should be catering to all his wants and needs instead. He has his moments where he realises “Oh, maybe I actually am the problem here” and tries to get help, but those moments are short-lived and his attempts to better himself are completely half-assed. Because there’s still that greater part of him that truly doesn’t believe there is anything wrong with him, and it doesn’t help matters any that there are other people in his life who believe the same and actually encourage him and his shitty ways.

WOULD YOU DATE YOUR MUSE?: If I didn’t know everything that I know about him, yeah I probably would. Otherwise hell-fucking-no.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE KINDS OF THREADS?: Angst. Romance. Sweet Fluff. Crack. AUs. Everything. But especially threads with kidnapping, torture, horror-stuff and supernatural-stuff.

ARE YOU A SELECTIVE ROLEPLAYER?:  A bit, yes. As much as I’d love to interact with everyone, sometimes muses just don’t click or writing styles aren’t compatible. Plus Brendan is a finicky little shit.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE MUSE?: Bootyful Crotch Junior. AKA BARTY. I’ve been neglecting him lately over Brendan, but my love for him has not dwindled in the slightest. HE IS MY BABY. MY SWEET BOI. MY PRECIOUS LITTLE WIZARD PASTRY CHEF TIME LORD WITH MEMORY PROBLEMS AND HIS HEART-AND-A-HALF. Fair warning that he will most likely adopt your muse into his family and love them forever. (If it wasn’t already clear, this is a CANON DIVERGENT Barty Crouch Junior/Tenth Doctor.)

WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO JOIN THE FANDOM?:  As arrogant as it is to say (though I don’t intend it to be, and you can all roll your eyes at me if you want, I completely understand), I'm fairly sure I started this fandom on Tumblr via my main blog. If not that, then my loud annoying obsessive ass at least opened the door to making other people comfortable enough to start actively talking about Secret Smile, because it WASN'T talked about back then and  was a big no-no topic of discussion at the time (no doubt because of its sensitive material and for fear of possible backlash, because woo boy did I get some nasty shit said about me and to me for daring to openly voice my opinions (and occasionally still do)). My love and obsession for Secret Smile and Brendan is rather infamous among the general DT fandom. It's what I'm known for around here (and apparently on twitter as well, whops) and have been for many years.

All that said, I do greatly love Brendan as a character. I find him fascinating and in all likeliness that’s because I've dealt with far too many men in my life that were just like him. In many ways playing him is actually cathartic for me, but it's also just plain fun. He’s SUCH a nasty creep and that honestly makes for some delicious writing.

DO YOU SEE YOURSELF STAYING WITH THE FANDOM FOR A LONG TIME?: It’s been almost 10 years now and I don’t see my love for the movie or for Brendan dying out anytime soon. <3

[eirabach]

Tall Tales [1/1]

A revenge obsessed pirate is visited by three ghosts one Christmas Eve. Well, sort of. Maybe it isn’t Christmas Eve. Maybe they aren’t ghosts. Artistic license, he supposes.

3.5k. Rated T. Canon Divergent from S2, sort of.

For my most beloved @katie-dub , hi! I’m your CS Writer’s Hub Secret Santa! A weird little Christmas Carol AU for you with all the love and best wishes for you and yours. You’ve been an incredible pal over the last year or so, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life - can’t wait for playdates with the hub babies!

xoxoxo Clare <3i

 ——

 Tell me a story, she says.

 Well, all right.

 —-

 He may as well be dead, to begin with.

The bean lies heavy in his pocket, the rum thick on his tongue. The Saviour (and what a name that is, what a name for what a woman) and her associates have run off to save the town, the realm, whatever. By now they’ll have realised what he’s done, what they’re missing, but that’s none of his concern now.

 The only thing he’s interested in saving is the rest of this rum bottle from Leroy’s less than discerning palette.

“Killian?”

 Her voice is just as he remembers. Soft and yet somehow sharp as a blade, sharp as the point of his hook as he presses it into the old woman’s countertop.

 “Killian?”

 He shakes his head and laughs. It’s a shirt, nasty little thing and he can almost see the way her lips would twist down when she heard it. The way she’d roll her eyes at his dramatics, Killian, really?

 “You won’t look at me then?”

 “I can’t look at you,” he tells the rum. “You’re in my head. Dead. As a doornail. And I’m talking to myself, which means I’ve either had far too much or far too little of this.” He eyes the glass critically and takes another long swig. “I’ll err on the side of caution.”

 “Am I truly gone?” she says. “Are you sure?”

 He looks up.

 There, between the bottles and the chalkboard menus, he sees her reflected in the mirrored walls. The curve of her cheek in the steel of the machinery, the shock of her curls against the glass fronted doors.

 “Milah?”

 She smiles.

 —-

 “Don’t turn around.”

 He gapes, his fingers trembling against the rum glass, but he obeys her even as his body stiffens as her cold breath skins across his neck.

 “How,” he asks, and he hardly knows what he’s asking. How do the dead breathe? How does she come to him?

 How does he sit so still when his heart is ready to pound from his chest?

 “I can’t say,” she whispers, and he shivers to hear it. “It’s not for the ears of mortals, but Killian, I must tell you this. Your revenge, that bean in your pocket, you must give them up. Truly. Completely. Only then will you be happy.”

 He scoffs, rum burning the back of his nose.

 “Not likely.” he spits. “I’ve spent hundreds of years… lifetimes…. waiting for the chance to avenge you. No mere hallucination will convince me otherwise!”

 “Perhaps,” she admits, but there’s that steel in her tone again, that bite that he’d worried he might have forgotten somewhere between Neverland and a never ending flask of rum and it makes him sigh, his shoulders dipping. “But I’ve been given this chance, Killian. To warn you. And if you won’t listen to me…”

 There’s a flash of cold light, a terrible high pitched grinding sound, and then -

 She’s gone.

 “I never listened to anyone else,” he tells his empty glass, and pours another.

 —-

 It grows dark, but not in the way he’s become used to in this realm. The darkness seems to ooze out of the forests and up from the drains, creeping towards the diner until it’s tendrils catch at the end of his captain’s coat and wind their way up him until only his hand is still bathed in light. The rum sparkling at his fingertips.

 It isn’t the rum.

 “Tink?” He squints myopically at the tiny creature. “I didn’t know you did that - not - not anymore.” His lip curls, and the fairy’s light shines a little brighter, her tiny eyes narrowing. “It could have been rather… entertaining - Oi!”

 He shakes his hand, hissing under his breath at the red mark her magic has left behind. The fairy laughs - a bright, tinkling thing that shouldn’t sound as malicious as it does - as he sucks at the burn.

 “All right, all right,” he grumbles as she clutches at her stomach, her shoulders shaking. “How the devil did you get here, and more importantly are you aware it’s time to get out?” He leans in a little conspiratorially and she stops laughing to turn her face up to his. “Come with me,” he whispers. “It’ll be like the good old days.”

 She rolls her eyes rather extravagantly and puts her hands on her hips.

 “No?” he shrugs, and goes to lift the rum back to his lips. “Suit yourself. But if you’re planning on playing the hero round here be warned, it seems to end badly.”

 The fairy sighs, fluttering her wings until she’s perched on the edge of his glass and lets out a series of high pitched squeaks that almost sound like words. Disappointed words, probably, going by the way she wags her finger at him as she speaks.

 The more things change, he supposes.

 “Nope,” he says, leaning back on his stool and folding his arms. “Afraid you’ve entirely lost me there, Lady Bell. I do like the new look though, terribly clever of you. Terribly portable.”

 He winks sloppily, the rum making his eyes dip, and Tink moves to hover just at the end of his nose until he has to be practically cross eyed to focus on the way her lips form a pout.

 “Always judging, fairies,” he mutters. “But if you insist, love.”

 She drops the smallest of kisses to the tip of his nose, and he is engulfed.

 ----

 “What the bloody hell was that?”

 He staggers to his feet as best he can, the ground shifting strangely beneath him as Tink laughs in his ear. Sand. He’s on sand. The soft grains sinking under his weight as the tide presses in closer. He grumbles as he straightens up, stomping away from the water’s edge, and then pauses, frozen, silent, as he hears a high-pitched cry carried on the wind.

 “Li-aaaaaam! Mam! MAM!”

 “No,” he mutters it. A plea. “No, no, no.”

 Tink glows, but the voice still continues to grow louder, more insistent.

 “Mam I found it look! MAM!”

 “Take me back,” he hisses, snatching Tink from midair and barely resisting the urge to shake her. “Take me back this instant do you hear me?”

 Tink makes a series of indignant squarks and manages to wriggle free of his grasp, pointing furiously in the direction of the voice.

 “Oh no,” he says, shaking his finger at her. “Not a chance, you can’t make me, I wo -”

 The force with which she whips his head around is really quite impressive for such a small creature, he’ll give her that.

 Perhaps fifty yards away along the shoreline is a small boy with wild, dark hair and short trousers that barely skim skinny knees. In his hands he holds a small piece of emerald sea glass, and he’s examining the way the light reflects from it and sends rainbows skittering over his palms.

 Killian can’t see that of course, not from so far away, but he knows it to be true nonetheless. Just as he knows that the older child and the woman will be along momentarily - and no sooner has he thought as much but they appear, the boy holding his mother’s elbow as she walks unsteadily over the sands.

 Tink makes a questioning sort of sound. Killian shrugs, but his eyes are fixed on their approach.

 “She was the first person I loved and lost. Rather started a trend, that.”

 “Look Mam! I found treasure! I told you I would and now we can sell it and pay the apothecary and Papa will come back home I told you I would!”

 Even from here Killian can see the way Liam moves to dissuade him of the notion - of the nonsense - it’s not treasure, only another man’s rubbish washed up is all. Liam would have known that, straightforward, sensible Liam. He would have known even at eight that their mother’s cough wouldn’t be healed by any means Killian had at his disposal.

 Liam knew. Liam had always known. But Killian hadn’t.

 Killian had thought he’d saved her.

 She smiles, and thanks to the centuries of remove between this time and that he can see the way she strains to do so, the way she sways as Liam lets go of her arm.

 “My good boy,” she laughs, and runs her hands through the unruly hair of his childhood self. “My hero.”

 Little Killian beams up at her, growing half a head taller from sheer pride.

 “I’ve seen enough, sprite,” the grown version growls as he turns his back on the little doomed tableau. “Take me back.”

 He feels the fairy’s disappointed exhale as soft as gossamer on his cheek as the world fades from view.

 ---

 He lifts his head from the counter with a groan and blinks blearily into the dark diner.

 “Tink?” he asks, his voice gravelly. “What’s - Tink?”

 There’s another light, higher and brighter, approaching him from the back of the room.

 “How in the name of the gods did you do that?”

 “I didn’t do anything.”

 Killian starts, his hand twitching towards his cutlass, as the insufferable prince appears before him crowned with candlelight and wearing a robe far more suited to his life back home than whatever pathetic facsimile he’d been living here.

 “Believe me,” says David, his face crumpled in distaste beneath his glowing headdress, “I wouldn’t have bothered showing you such a pleasant memory.”

 “You may have celebrated your mother’s death, princeling, but I assure you there was nothing remotely -”

 Killian coughs sharply as David’s hand closes around his throat.

 “All right, all right,” he wheezes as the prince tightens his grip. “You’ve made your point, as I have made mine -”

 He swings his arm back and buries his hook deep in the other man’s belly, but David’s grip doesn’t falter, his eyebrows only raising slightly as Killian looks down, his expression dropping into disbelief at the way his hook passes through the prince as though he’s made of little more than sea fret..

 “Nice try,” says David. “Now, shall we have a chat?”

 ---

 David leads him through the black, abandoned streets of Storybrooke, but where the figment - for a figment he must be - floats above the gloom Killian drags himself through it, the night thick as tar around his ankles as he struggles to keep up.

 “Come on,” David calls without turning around. “We don’t have all night you know.”

 “All night for what, exactly,” Killian shouts after him. “And what on Earth are you wearing?”

 “Don’t ask me this is your hallucination,” says David with no little bitterness.

 “So it is a hallucination then?” Killian asks, pausing to catch his breath. “Am I mad?”

 “That’s a matter of opinion,” says David. “But no, not as such. It’s a lesson.”

 “A lesson?” Killian snorts.”I’m no schoolboy, prince.”

 “No,” says David, and he turns now, his face bathed in light. It’s somehow unnatural in the pervasive gloom. Unsettling. “You’re not. You’re a villain.”

 “Says the man with a candelabra on his head. You’ll excuse me if I don’t give your opinion too much weight, won't you.”

 “Do you think this is a joke?” David’s face creases in displeasure. “My family face destruction!”

 “It’s very sad,” drawls Killian. “Not quite my problem though is it.”

 “Isn’t it?” asks David, and their surroundings shimmer and change until they are immersed in the gloom of the mine workings.

 The light here takes on an eerie quality. A cold, purple hued thing that reflects from the damp walls and casts shadows under David’s eyes.

 “Watch,” he says.

 “Watch what, exactly?”

 David shakes his head and half smiles, his eyes downcast.

 “Even now you can’t see what you do, can you? So wrapped up in yourself. Look.”

 He does, half against his will, truth be told, but the prince seems to have far more control on whatever surrealist world they find themselves in than Killian himself does.

 The Queen seems frozen in place, the light emanating from white, clawed hands that Killian is sure ought to be shaking. Arranged around her like so many statues are the townsfolk, each frozen in their own personal terror. The dwarfs are shrieking, he assumes, their mouths wide and their axes held high. Snow White stands before him, her chin high and her eyes sparking, but her hands are empty and even in her stillness he can tell that her defiance is a hollow, helpless sort of thing.

 David - the original David, he presumes, since he’s attired in a law keepers uniform - stands at her shoulder. Killian’s companion eyes him critically.

 “Two of you,” Killian says with a slightly lavicious curl of his lip as David flicks at a piece of his doppelganger’s mussed hair. “My mind is a truly strange place indeed.”

 “Very funny,” growls David, “is there anyone you won’t creep on?”

 But Killian isn’t listening.

 Swan.

 She’s standing, staring unseeing, in the gloom at the edges of the mine. Her hair has curled in the damp and is sticking to her forehead, her jaw tight.

 “They’re all going to die, you know.”

 Killian grunts in reply. The back of his neck itches as he examines the lines between Swan’s brows, the pale impression left on her lip by her teeth.

 “And why should I care about that?”

 “Do you think you’re fooling anyone?” asks David, and he almost sounds pitying. “Look at you, you can’t even fool yourself.”

 Swan just stares. Accusatory as usual. It almost makes him smile.

 It’s hard to imagine anyone as fierce natured as Swan doing something as banal as dying.

 Killian sighs, and tucks his hand behind his back before the itch moves to make his fingers reach for her hair.

 David watches them, and for a moment his eyes turn soft.

 “You can change that,” he says. “You should change that. You could change that. But if you continue the way you are… they’ll all die.”

 Killian looks up at him, a retort already on the tip of his tongue (he has never been able to change anything, his life is one of flotsam, they wouldn’t want him to save them, not him) but David is growing translucent, disappearing into the glow of his own candlelight until her fades into nothing but ether.

 “Even her?” Killian asks.

 But the ether doesn’t answer.

 ---

 He wakes, if indeed that’s what it is, back in the diner but it’s not quite as he left it. Little pieces of the counter remain stuck to his cheek as he lifts his head, and the stool creaks, rusty and struggling, beneath his weight.

 “Bloody hell.”

 The walls are scorched black and crumbling, the menu boards overridden by twisting vines of dead and decaying fruit, and the air holds that sour, sick smell he recognises only too well from too long voyages with not enough water.

 This is a dead place.

 And in the middle of it, golden and shining in a hooded robe, stands Emma.

 He is a dead man.

 “Swan? What happened here?”

 She smiles, beatific and snide and nowhere near her eyes, and shrugs one slim shoulder.

 “Isn’t it obvious?”

 “Hardly, love.” He stands, more unsteady than he should be, and reaches for the edge of her cloak. “This isn’t your usual attire.”

 “Things have changed,” she says, “or will do. It’s up to you really.”

 “What is?” he asks, tugging lightly at the cloak. The cloak tugs back. “What the -“

 Emma shifts her weight and her cloak falls away to reveal a boy, her boy, the boy, his cheeks hollow and his eyes shadowed dark. The darkness seems to twist, pulling at his features and curling his hair until it isn’t Swan’s lad at all, but Bae. Bae clawing at her cloak and watching with baleful eyes as Killian sways on the spot. Bae whose lips curl into a sneer as he makes to fall.

 And then the darkness breathes, and it’s Henry who turns his face into his mother’s belly.

 “Why,” says Emma. “I thought everyone wanted a happy ending.”

 He laughs, a short sharp bark that escapes him without his meaning to, and curls his fingers around her elbow to steady himself.

 “What lunatic’s happy ending is this?”

 She smiles again, her hand coming up to cover his, and for a single moment he feels warm. It’s odd. He hadn’t known he was cold.

 “Yours, of course.”

 The diner begins to crumble around them until it’s nothing but dust, just a grey haze that rises up and envelops them and sticks in his throat.

 It tastes like magic, he thinks. Bitter.

 And then it clears, and it’s bile.

 It the ruins of what once was Storybrooke stands what was once a man. His hair is slicked forward over his pale face, and his shoulders stoop under the weight of the burden he carries. His left hand is a familiar curve of steel, and in his right -

 “No.” Killian shakes his head, scrubs at his eyes, but the other man, the creature, only smiles a thin, crocodile’s smile and lifts the dagger toward him.

 Killian Jones.

 “Why hasn’t anyone stopped him?” he half whispers. “Why haven’t you?”

 “There isn’t anyone,” says the boy who could be, isn’t, is, Bae. “No one left to care. Not for men like you. This is where you end up. Where we all end up.”

 “Welcome to your happily ever after,” says Swan, and there’s a line, a thin, red line, that marrs her throat. It drips when she inclined her head, her eyes flashing. “Hope it’s worth it.”

 This time when he wakes up, he’s screaming.

 —-

 It takes a moment, several actually if he’s being honest, before he can gather himself enough to be certain that he’s truly awake including both the judicial application of the tip of his hook to the palm of his hand and a long swig from a flagon of water. He eyes the rum bottle suspiciously before gingerly lifting it between finger and thumb.

 “What in all the realms does she put in this? Laudanum?”

 Nobody answers him, of course. He’d rather forgotten they were in the midst of a crisis.

 He slips his hand back into his pocket and runs his fingers over the smooth edges of the bean. It would be easy, he thinks. Run back to… well, anywhere really. No one would live to find him, and his vengeance would be if not complete, at least somewhat satiated. And he’d never have to risk seeing David in that ridiculous get up again.

 The ground rocks beneath his feet, the Queen’s Work, he presumes, and he clutches the bean a little tighter.

 Be part of something.

 My good boy. My hero.

 You’re a villain.

 Bae.

 Swan. Swan and her sardonic little smiles. The incline of her head. The obnoxious habit she has of making him want to do better.

 The diner shudders once more, and he chooses.

 What sort of man do you want to be?

 (It’s such a little thing, in the end. Choice.)

 He turns on his heel and leaves the bottle behind.

 ---

 What are you telling her now?

 Only stories, my love.

 That’s not very comforting you know. I’ve heard your stories.

 How rude, Swan. I assure you the moral of this tale is impeccable.

 Yeah right. I’ve heard that before.

 (Is it true, Papa? The story?

 Of course my little love. Aren’t they all.)

[sophygurl]

I love the question memes and my fave kind is the kind @pixiedane​ just tagged me in (thank you!). [Also sidenote: ILU @theawkwardterrier​ for always tagging me in the tagging memes but JSYK I won’t be doing the latest one because I’m just not really a picture person so I don’t really have a lot of pictures saved and the idea of trying to use whatever weird random stuff I might have saved to describe myself would just not work. But you’re the best and I’ll catch ya on the next one!]

The rules:

Post the rules

Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

Write 11 questions of your own

And tag 11 people

1. What’s the meaning of your name? Does it suit you?

Rosemary doesn’t seem to have a specific meaning, although of course it’s an herb, and Rosemary is for remembrance, which is hilarious given my memory problems. Mary means bitter, so some name meaning sites say the meaning of my name is “bitter rose” which I guess is a nice combo of sweet and sad, which I would not really classify myself as. So, no, the various meanings of my name do not suit me.

The name itself? Does. I love my name, and while most people can’t be bothered with a 3 syllable name in casual conversation, my preference is to be called Rosemary and not Rose. Rose does not feel like me.

2. What’s a movie you never get tired of?

A lot of movies fit under this category, but the movie I have probably seen the most amount of times and can still watch either in full or in chunks and still enjoy every single second of no matter what is Dirty Dancing. 

3. Your favourite movie soundtrack?

Are we talking soundtrack as in collection of songs used in the movie and put into an album, or as in score for the movie, or?

Because nothing but nothing beats the Star Wars scores for me. Well, original and prequels and TFA anyway - the last two have diverged quite a bit which has felt odd to me but whatever. [Second place would be the scores for the 70/s80s Superman movies - also John Williams of course]

If collection of songs - then we’re back to Dirty Dancing.

Although if we’re considering soundtracks of musicals, then I’m gonna be reduced to flailing and just naming half a dozen or so, so we’ll just pretend that’s not part of the question. 

4. How would you describe your personal style?

Accidental? I pretty much just buy things that I find interesting, and then put things together that seem interesting to me, and then end up with some pretty ... interesting outfits. One of my roommates actually described my look yesterday as “crazy” if that tells you anything.

Think colors that don’t quite match, conflicting patterns, stripey socks, chunky jewelry, and then at times like now at the end of winter when I haven’t shaved my head in awhile - short floppy hair that is sticking up in all directions that I swear I tried to tame but it just doesn’t take. 

5. Name a fictional crush.

Spike from Buffy. Also Buffy from Buffy. And put them together? Double crush. 

6. What’s your motto?

I don’t really have a motto, per se, but I do have a mantra, which is: love, peace, joy, hope. Those are the qualities I try to embody, embrace, spread, whatever. All four are of equal importance to me. 

7. Are you a gamer?

If by gamer, you mean obsessively playing the Sims, then yes. But most people who consider themselves gamers would probably say no.

8. Would you rather spend time on a secluded beach or at a fancy cocktail party?

How about a fancy cocktail party on a secluded beach? Too much sand in the drinks, never mind.

Ah, these are both problematic for me. I don’t do so well with being completely alone, especially without some kind of distraction or diversion. I guess if I had a book with me on the beach, I’d be okay for a little while, but I’d also get uncomfortable super fast if there wasn’t, like, a comfy sofa or something to recline on. 

And I also don’t do well with fancy, or come to think of it with cocktails since I can’t drink any more with the meds I have to take. 

But, if I had to choose, I’d probably pick the party. I’d be dressed inappropriately (probably something with loud colors and polka dots?), and sitting in the corner mostly people watching, and I’d get overwhelmed and head home early, but still. 

9. Recommend a television series.

oohhhoooomygods just ONE?

I’ve rec’d this one many times, but since it just came back for season two last night (I haven’t watched the ep yet - it’s next on my list), I’m gonna recommend Imposters to you all again.

Imposters is a lil show with a small but dedicated fandom on Bravo. 

It stars Inbar Lavi (Prison Break, The Last Ship) as a con woman and Rob Heaps (Home Fires, And Then There Were None), Parker Young (Arrow, Suburgatory), and  Marianne Rendón (Mapplethorpe) as three of the people who she has swindled. Additionally, Brian Benben (Private Practice, Dream On), Stephen Bishop (Being Mary Jane), Chastity Dotson (Pitch, Veronica Mars), and Denise Dowd (Secrets and Lies, Beverly Hills 90210) star. 

The story of season one is that these three scorned exes find one another and begin a quest to find the woman they all alternately view as their loving spouse and the cruel con who stole everything from them. Along the way, they learn some cons of their own, gain back some of their confidence, and of course discover the power of friendship. 

There are many twists and turns along the way which I won’t spoil for anyone who wants to watch season 1 for themselves, but it involves cons within cons within cons and unlikely teammates. 

Also - Uma Thurman as a hitwoman.

As the finale of season one had our three scorned exes riding off together into the sunset, I am very excited to see where season two leads us. Seriously, you have to watch this show. 

[But if I may very quickly rec some of my other underwatched faves: 12 Monkeys, Colony, Counterpart, Ghosted, Insecure, Kevin (Probably) Saves the World, Madam Secretary, People of Earth, Scream, Speechless, Timeless, UnREAL,You’re the Worst - ask me about my underwatched faves plz.]

10. Do you have any phobias?

Boy howdy, do I! I have OCD, which often comes with phobias as part of the anxiety which leads to some of the obsessive compulsions. [FELLOW PHOBES MIGHT WANNA SKIP THIS PART - PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES.]

I have a slight germ phobia which I mostly don’t go deep into because I don’t have the energy to do what I’d need to do to feel better about it so I just make myself not-think about it really hard, but the underlying anxiety is Still There. 

This is especially true of what I call “poop germs” - which is anything that has ever been inside of a bathroom ever. This makes, you know, having to use bathrooms very upsetting and problematic for me, so again, I deploy my aggressive pretending it’s not there as much as I can, but poop germs can cause me to break down into tears on a bad day. Fun times!

I’m also an emetophobe, which means I’m terrified of throwing up - a fun little phobia to have when you have constant low-grade nausea which occasionally flares up to higher-grade, lemme tell ya.

Another biggie is infestation of any kind - so any kind of insect or small animal that comes into my home. Like, I am absolutely fine seeing these critters outside where they belong - I might even oooh and aaah. But the second I see one INSIDE - I’m screaming bloody murder and waking up the entire apartment complex. 

I’ve worked real hard at being less scared of the harmless single bugs that enter a home, especially the kind that EAT other bugs - so for example I am perfectly fine with spiders (being obsessed with Charlotte’s Web as a kid helps), and even centipedes after the initial screaming over how creepy they look is done. And I’ve gotten where I look insects up on websites that identify bugs and talk about them in positive/scientific ways and have stopped panicking about certain bugs and their larvae now as I can tell which ones are and aren’t actually harmful or prone to infestation. BUT. I’m still prolly gonna scream when I initially see them because eaauughhss. 

Those are the main ones, but the fun thing about OCD is that new ones develop all the time if you don’t stay vigilant about letting those obsessive thoughts do their thang, so I try real hard to ignore those news segments and articles about bringing black lights into hotel rooms and about all of the horrible ways people are committing violent crimes these days and other terrifying and/or gross things that might creep their ways into my fear center. 

11. What’s your rarest rarepair?

Oh, good question. I don’t tend to have rarepairs because the way I fandom is deep immersion into canon and not necessarily delving into fanon/fanfic. So even my non-canon ships tend to be ones that the canon itself at least played with a little bit or that the fandom-at-large has talked about enough that I start to see it. lol

I’m having trouble even thinking about a ship I have that could be classified as rare? It would probably be something involving Spike because I ship that fool with pretty much everyone he’s ever shared screentime with because he is just so yummy, and because Marsters was just really good about getting his character to bring interesting things out of whatever characters he was interacting with, and because he’s clearly so omnisexual that he just oozes chemistry with everyone he meets, but like. I’m also definitely not the only one who sees all that about him and also is shipping him left right and center. So. I’ll just toss out Spike/Harmony because I’ve never heard of anyone else who actually liked them together ha!

Phew! That was fun. I hope all of you all who I end up tagging have as much fun with my questions (and if not, feel free to use some of pixie’s).

My questions:

What is your #mood rn?

Tell me the sweetest childhood memory you can think of.

Favorite mythological/fantastical animal/creature.

What is your favorite mode of storytelling - for example, books, movies, TV shows, graphic novels, video games, etc. - and why do you think that’s your fave form?

Star Trek, Star Wars, or Starlord? (this is not a serious question and you may feel free to expound upon all three if you wish)

Favorite type of geographical location to visit, and is it different from where you prefer to live?

Name a character that you love, but who you would probably hate in real life.

Reboots, renewals, and revivals. Are they ruining your childhood or do you love ‘em?

Tell me about your favorite cookie (or other sweet if you don’t care for cookies).

If there is one thing people could just atomatically know about you upon meeting you that would make socializing with you better or easier, what would it be?

A lot of stories based on comics posit the theory that eventually humanity will evolve into at least some humans developing super powers. Suppose this started happening today - what would the results be, do you think?

Tagging:

(and of course, please consider yourself tagged if you wanna do this - I’d tag all of you if I could but I try and just pick folks I think enjoy doing these. if I’m ever wrong - please feel free and ignore the tag. additionally - please remember to tag ME so I can see your responses! also, feel free to re-tag me in this one since the questions differ and you all know how much I love to talk about myself.)

@absolutelyiris, @dianebluegreen, @c-l-ford, @theawkwardterrier, @the-invisible-queer, @brokenyellowcrayons, @knitmeapony, @fatherjerusalem, @swordsandparasols, @dmphelps, @nightlocktime