#i do have chapters for each WIP that are almost ready to go

[ravenpuffheadcanons]

Neither of my WIPs will update tomorrow - unless we get a huge, delayed dump of snow and work gets cancelled somehow? - in stark defiance of my promises. One of my bookshelves collapsed and I have spent the weekend building, priming, and painting its replacement. This was inevitable the minute I put myself in the position of posting multiple WIPs. One day I will learn (maybe)!

[yexthiccxa]

Secrets of the Second Shift - (Part 2)

summary: you're still reeling from an unforgettable friday night (read part 1), but monday rolls around and you have a new set of problems and being attracted to choso is one of them.

wordcount: 3.8k words

full fic c/w: choso smut, choso/fem!reader, choso/oc, modern!au, some plot, plot what plot, porn with plot, gentleman!choso, soft!choso, praise kink, blindfold sex, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms

a/n: also open to a taglist for this one so lmk if you'd like to be on it (: this is my first wip so i will try my best to keep it updated regularly!

Tumblr Master List | Read this chapter on AO3!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Monday rolls around and you’re still uneasy. You wake up for work and let your body move on autopilot: get ready, eat breakfast, drive to work. Typically you feel refreshed when you go through the routine, but lingering thoughts from Friday’s encounter paired with the anticipation of work has your mind racing.

What is going on? This is completely unlike you. You’re composed, calculated, you always have a plan. But now it seems like all of that has gone out the window.

You try to rid your memory of your mystery man but it doesn't seem to shake. You can’t help but recount your thoughts:

✦✧✸✧✦

“So much for no strings,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This is gonna be harder than I thought and we've only just begun.”

You internally sigh—scared that you might agree.

You bury the thought with a quick reply as you switch positions to climb on top of him, “The only thing that should be hard right now is your dick, and the only place your dick should be right now is my mouth. Let’s warm you up for round two, shall we?”

“You’re a goddamn vixen, aren’t you?” he rasps.

You skim your fingers from his chest and to his lats, using the ridges of his body to guide you down before settling near his manhood. You slip off the condom and he takes it from you—tossing it into the waste bin next to the bed.

You polish off the remaining liquid off his tip causing him to shudder from the overstimulation.

“Fuck—oh. Fuck that feels so g—” 

✦✧✸✧✦

“—Good? Excuse me?”

A voice sends you back to reality as you realize you’ve made it to the elevator of Zenin Tech. In the opposite corner of the cramped space, a man is staring at you, his eyes are dark and direct.

“Hey, are you good?” he repeats, his tone steady.

“Huh? Wha—yeah, I’m fine,” you stammer, refocusing your thoughts and trying to ignore the heat rising to your face.

“I didn’t mean to bother you—but you didn’t press a button. Which floor?”

“Oh, right. Nine, please.” You glance at the panel, realizing the button is already glowing. Odd. You’ve never seen him before.

He gives you a soft smile before leaning back against the railing.

The ride to the ninth floor stretches on, each passing second weighed down by the heavy silence of the elevator. But that’s nothing new. What is new, however, is the man across from you.

He’s tall—broad shoulders and a lean frame that seems effortlessly composed. His jawline looks like it was carved from marble, and his dark, shoulder-length hair casually falls back, leaving a few stray baby hairs to perfectly frame his face. He has a scar over his nose and his eyes are deep and unreadable. There’s something about him that tugs at you, a force so intense you’re afraid of slipping into a place you know you shouldn’t—like desire.

Maybe this man is the kind of distraction you need, you half-heartedly hope. Sometimes all it takes is one good fuck to reset your system.

From the opposite side, you see one of his arms pinning a file box to his side, while the other has a firm hold on his laptop. You find yourself gesturing toward it as an icebreaker.

“Are you one of the new members from CurseCore?”

When his eyes meet yours, they give you nothing but his undivided attention. He pauses, taking you all in and wondering if you were a gift sent from the gods. He doesn't break the connection immediately, letting the silence stretch just enough for the tension to thicken between you. Little do you know, he’s also trapped in a memory of someone he’s desperately trying to forget.

The corner of his mouth quirks up—not quite a smile, but enough to catch your attention. “Yeah, Pleasure to meet you. I’m Choso.” 

You tell him your name, though it feels like a formality—your mind is too preoccupied with the sound of his voice. I’m Choso. The richness rings with a strange familiarity that you can’t quite place.

Choso tries to extend his hand to shake yours but the box slightly fumbles. “Sorry. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up here.”

You laugh lightly, the sound cutting through the awkward tension. “No worries. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to meet again.”

He glances at you, his lips forming that same restrained smile. “I look forward to that.”

The heat in your core begins to simmer before the elevator dings, pulling you both back into focus as the doors slide open.

Choso steps out and immediately a hoard of new faces flock to him, forcing you to weave to the sides. A wave of chatter fills the entryway.

"Where do we set up our laptops?"

"What’s the Wi-Fi password?"

“Are desks first come, first serve?”

“How do we pick up our ID badges?”

You almost step in to give the new guy a break, but his voice cuts through the noise before you can utter a word. “Everyone, relax.” The word hangs in the air like a command, and almost instantly, the buzz fizzles into silence. He scans the crowd with a steady gaze. “Let’s take this one at a time,” he continues, his tone calm yet authoritative.

You watch him—proper, composed, and directing the newbies with calm precision. Every gesture is smooth, controlled. His focus is laser-sharp. There’s a confidence in the way he moves, like he’s been doing this for years, but there’s also something irresistible that keeps pulling you in.

A friendly voice pops up behind you. “Whoa, the new guy can tame me like that any day” Yuki says, her eyes fixed on him too.

“You know, if we weren’t good friends you would be a walking HR complaint,” you joke with her.

“Can you blame me though? He’s gorgeous.”

You let out a snicker, because you can’t help but agree. Not only is he gorgeous, but assertive too. It’s not every day that you come across a man who can take charge without coming across as a self-absorbed dick (ahem Naoya). As the thought begins to fade, you know that somewhere deep down, Yuki is right— you’d love to let him tame you too.

You both walk past the flood of people, but your sight remains secured on Choso. In the sea of bodies, he catches your eye. Most would look away, but you both hold the stare, just for a moment—like a silent, playful challenge meant only for two. He can’t hide the subtle flicker in his gaze as it drops briefly to take in your curves. It’s a look that’s equal parts fiery and possessive, the kind that whispers I want to devour you .

The thought makes your heart beat out of your chest, causing your cheeks to flush. You break the gaze first, eyes darting away.

 “Choso,” you whisper under your breath, as if your daydream has swept you away.

“What’d you say?” Yuki’s voice pulls you back.

“Choso,” you clear your throat. “His name is Choso,” you answer—returning to your composed self.

“Choso,” she repeats, as the pieces fall into place. “Oh yeah! The manager from CurseCore. They say he's the full package—cool, calm, professional. I’ve heard he runs his team with this… almost zen-like efficiency. Super smooth. The kind of guy you can't help but respect.”

You feel your stomach drop at the realization. Great. So this is the guy who’s gunning for your promotion. Unfortunately for you, Choso is the perfect little corporate robot. Even worse, given Naoya’s history, you’re certain he’s already made up his mind.

Yuki blabbers on, “They say everyone loves him, but what they failed to mention was that he’s also a fuckin’ heartthrob.”

“First off, HR. Second off, how do you even know all that?” you ask.

“Well, you would know that too if you joined any of our Friday Happy Hours,” she teases.

Ah, right… the mere mention of Happy Hour makes your chest tighten. Sure, they’re filled with harmless office gossip, but one too many drinks could lead to one little slip that could unravel everything. You’ve worked too hard to keep the lines between your two worlds from blurring—and you’re not about to let happy hour small talk be the thing that blows it all apart.

"Hard pass," you say, keeping your tone light, but there’s an edge of finality to it. "I have better things to do than waste my time schmoozing up to Naoya."

Yuki smirks knowingly. "Okaaaay, but you know that schmoozing will help you get your promotion. Don’t think I didn’t put two and two together.”

Her words cut through you because you know she’s right.

A self assured smile wipes across her face. “And who knows, with the two teams merging, maybe we’ll get to see a little more of Choso, " she adds, nudging your shoulder.

"I think I’ll survive," you reply, though her sentiments echo in your head. You can’t help but wonder if skipping out has truly cost you an edge with Naoya—especially now that Choso is in the picture."

Speak of the devil. Naoya appears from around the hall and calls the whole team into the conference room. As you migrate to the room, you see windows lining opposite sides. The exterior windows face the gorgeous view of the city. The interior windows face the common area of the office. After everyone packs into the room, Naoya clicks a button that instantly turns the glass from clear crystal to an opaque frost—obscuring the view beyond it. The iconic click is always a sign that the meeting is in session.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Naoya began, his tone sharp and authoritative.

In the far end of the room, you notice two voices coming from a pink-haired man and a redheaded woman, both unfamiliar and completely oblivious to Naoya’s growing irritation. From the opposite end, you hear Choso clear his throat and turn his head ever so slightly to the giggling pair. 

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.

The look he gave them was surprisingly soft, but still unwavering, a silent command for order. The chatter instantly dies with the two culprits shrinking under his gaze. After the tension dissolves, Naoya picks up where he left off.

From your seat, you can’t help but watch Choso, your eyes lingering on the quiet power in his demeanor. It’s not just his composure—it’s the effortless way he commands respect without ever raising his voice. You hate that it stirs something in you.

You notice the way he leans back in his chair, effortlessly exuding confidence as one arm drapes over the armrest. This position allows you to see the subtle flex of his bicep. Your eyes trail down his arm until your view jumps to get a glimpse of the muscles on his thighs. Dirty thoughts fill your mind when you think about what lies in between.

Wait, stop.

Your attraction goes head-to-head with your instincts. He’s competition, you remind yourself, shifting in your seat to refocus on the meeting. Remember: he’s here to climb the same ladder as you, and if you lose focus, you might as well hand him the next rung. You didn’t claw your way this far to let a pretty face throw you off balance.

Keep your head in the game. Keep your emotions in check. And definitely don’t let anyone, no matter how charming they are, shake your confidence.

After Naoya concludes the meeting, Choso approaches you as everyone else gathers their things, his presence quiet but commanding.

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were the other manager. I think I should properly introduce myself this time,” he says, extending a hand. His voice is the type of rich that makes it impossible to ignore him.

You tilt your head, your lips curving into a neutral smile. “No need, I got the gist earlier,” you say, nodding at him but ignoring his hand. “Welcome to the team.” You weave past him and walk down the hallway towards your next meeting.

He promptly follows you down the hall, confused. “Forgive my assumptions, but did I do something wrong?”

You stop to face him, when you realize how much he towers over you. You tilt your head only to find that your eyes land straight on his lips. Focus.

You sigh. “Listen, it’s no secret that we’re fighting for the same promotion. What you don’t know, but I do , is that you have a 99.9% chance of getting it. So until I am satisfied with the fact that I’ve given it my all, you and I are enemies.” You return to your route, hoping to leave this conversation as soon as possible.

“How do you—” trails behind you before keeping up with your stride. “Nevermind. Being enemies is a bit harsh to start with, don't you think? We’re all on the same team here.” 

“We are for now—at least until you get promoted.” You hesitate. “Then I’d have to work under you.”

His brow raises, as a devious smile spreads across his face. “I can assure you being under me wouldn’t be the worst thing .”

The thought makes your core swell. Without thinking you drop your guard. “But you see, Choso… I’d prefer to be on top —professionally speaking.”

You’re steps away from the meeting room but he stops you just short of the doorway. “Hmm. that’s a very appealing offer, I accept.” he teases. “Shall we sort out an arrangement over dinner?”

You catch a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. Is he actually trying to make a move or is this all just for show? You can’t help but feel your cheeks flush. Though his confidence sends butterflies to your stomach, you decide to stay true to your resolve.

“Let me be clear—If you want to talk about work, you can schedule some time on my calendar. Otherwise, you should know that I have no interest in mixing business and pleasure.” As the words leave your mouth, you immediately start to wonder if you’re gonna regret your decision.

“Very well,” he playfully concedes, but the spark in his eye tells you that it’s far from over. As he takes a step to unblock your path, you feel the warm sensation of his fingers wrap around your waist.

You’re close enough to breathe in his cologne. It’s a known fragrance that you can’t quite place, but smell instinctively triggers a rush of liquid in between your legs.

He lowers himself until his breath dances around the tip of your ear. His whisper is low enough for only you to hear, “For the record, I have no issue being under you, on top of you… or even inside you ” he clears his throat before returning to his normal posture. “—professionally speaking, of course.” 

His remark left you speechless. You hesitated before finally replying, “I’ll file that under ‘things to pretend I didn’t hear.’”

He retreats back into the hallway as if he didn’t just drop a bomb on your heart. “I can say it again if you’d like,” he quips back.

You shake your head in amusement, trying your best to hide your smile. “Goodbye, Choso.”

“See you soon.” He turns his back to continue walking, tossing his hand in a casual farewell. 

You step into the meeting room, unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. For the first time in two days, the uneasiness you’d been carrying around was nowhere to be found, leaving you to wonder what caused it in the first place.

✦✧✸✧✦

“Back up…he did WHAT?” Yuki blurted out in pure disbelief.

You winced, glancing around to make sure no one heard her outburst. “Shh, keep it down.”

After your final meeting of the day, you and Yuki decided to hang back in the conference room a bit longer so you could tell her what happened.

By the looks of it, she could barely contain her excitement. “Sorry, but this is huge. I can’t believe he actually tried to ask you out.”

You mentioned the dinner, but conveniently skipped over the specifics—for obvious reasons.

“Okay so when’s it’s happening?”

You look away, ashamed to tell her. “It’s not happening”

She grabs your face with both hands and turns your head back to get your attention. “What do you mean it’s not happening?”

You swipe her hands away and groan, rolling your eyes. “You know he’s my biggest competition right now and I can’t afford any distractions.”

Yuki gives you a pointed look, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Please. You think letting him chase you will distract you, of all people? If that’s the case you’re selling yourself really short.”

Leave it to Yuki to be your ultimate hype woman.

“You know you’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can handle a little fun and still crush it at work.”

“But—” you start, but Yuki cuts you off.

“No but—you’re overthinking it. He obviously wants you. And you’d be crazy to not want him, so why not go for it?” She leans in, her voice softening. “Look, you deserve a little excitement. You’ve already been working your ass off. Don’t let this slip away just because you’re scared to have a little fun.”

You know she’s right but you don’t want her to hear it.

You don’t need to say it though because she already knows. “Plus, if he likes you enough, maybe he’ll just give it to you,” Yuki adds.

A puzzled look forms on your face. “Ok, What does that mean?”

“You know…he falls madly in love with you, heroically declines the promotion and tells Naoya that you should get it instead. It happens in all the books and movies.”

You pause, shocked at the mere possibility of that thought. That goes against everything you’ve ever worked for. “Yuki, that’s messed up. I don’t want to get it because some man says I can have it. I want to get it because I deserve it.”

She leans back in her chair with a shrug. “Hey, I’m just saying—crazier things have been done for pussy,” her tone is easygoing.

You laugh as you get up from your seat, “Ok, I think this is my sign to go home.”

After Yuki waves goodbye, you head back to your desk to gather your things—hoping to catch Choso before he leaves for the day. No luck. He’s already gone. As you put on your coat, your conversation with Yuki replays in your mind. Are you really going to give him a chance? Every longing ache in your body screams yes, but your mind stubbornly says no.

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen when you have a little fun?

You reach the elevator just in time, sliding your hand between the doors just before they close. Stepping inside, you catch your breath when you see Choso standing there.

He leans his tall frame casually against the wall, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a phone he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, and in an instant, the air feels heavier. There is a faint hum of people packing up for the day, yet it seems deafening in the silence between you.

Your heart pounds erratically, a war drum echoing in your chest as your mind scrambles for something to say. Anything. But your tongue is heavy, and all you can do is step further inside, keeping your gaze fixed him.

The doors close with a soft thud, locking the two of you in the confined space. The proximity, the tension—it’s suffocating, exhilarating. You can feel his presence pulling your focus no matter how hard you try to resist.

He finally breaks the silence. “Hmm. You weren’t lying earlier when you said we’d have plenty of chances to meet,” he teases.

You smile at him, remembering your first encounter from the morning. The weight between you seems to lighten. “I’m sorry about earlier,” you manage to get out. As an act of truce, you extend your hand and say, “I think I’d like to properly introduce myself this time.”

As you tell him your name, he can’t help but keep his focus locked on you. The fire in your eyes ignites him as he tries to press down every filthy thought that runs through his mind: What do you taste like? What do you feel like? What do you sound like when I make you moan?

He subdues his thoughts just enough to say, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ch—”

As he looks down to return your handshake, he pauses—his eyes widen in disbelief. He notices three delicate stars placed between your thumb and pointer finger. He hadn’t meant for it to linger in his mind, but now, it’s all he can focus on.

Memories flood him and he remembers the softness of your skin when he pressed his lips on it, the way your fingers would glisten with wetness when they slid into your pussy, and especially the way his hands guided you towards an earth shattering release. After replaying those moments in his head, he knew he would recognize those hands anywhere.

His filthy thoughts resurfaced, causing a tightness in his jeans. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? What do you sound like when I make you moan? He didn’t need to wonder because he already knew.

When your hands finally meet, there’s an unseen electricity that charges between you. “Well, fuck,” he chuckles with amusement. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

“Huh?” The warmth between you settles but you tilt your head while your brow furrows in confusion. 

He slightly tightens his grip on your hand to pull you closer and the air begins to thicken. You’re inches away from his face and the heat of his breath sends shivers down your spine. Before you know it, His other hand slides securely to your waist, his touch beginning to feel alarmingly like second nature.

“Choso—?” His name barely escapes your lips before instinct takes over. Your eyes flutter shut, drawn to the overwhelming closeness of him. In the dark all your senses heighten. You notice how the smell of his cologne seems to fill every crevice of the elevator. Then, in an instant, your eyes shoot back open as the revelation hits you— spiced and earthy, just like the one from a few nights ago. 

Stop, wait. It can’t be.

He delicately brings your hand to his lips and the familiar warmth of his kiss tightens the coil in your center. In this moment, the rumble of his voice is absolutely unmistakable, "Hello, my little vixen. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

--

taglist: @makingtimemine

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter Two

chapter one | ao3 | masterlist

series summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be but it doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

chapter summary: becoming obsessed with your english professor and imagining what fucking him would be like was never part of the plan. you seem to think about him whenever least convenient and read more into innocent words and touches than you should. but, your infatuation with him comes screeching to a halt when you discover something about him. crush done and over with, right?

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.7K

series or one-shot

chapter warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), sexualization of the male form, allusions to sexual and explicit scenarios, drinking and glorification of getting drunk

A/N: okay, listen, i won't beat around the bush, i kinda let this series die after like one chapter. my brain works in mysterious ways, as in, i lose interest in stuff quickly, and that includes writing certain fics. that's why i have so many unfinished wips. but, here we go with another chapter of hard light. i re-read this chapter and was suddenly inspired to write for it again. enjoy and don't forget to comment, reblog, and like.

You’d been stuck at the coffee shop for the majority of the day, constantly checking your phone to see if Jeremy had answered you yet. But it didn’t look like he was going to be able to cover your shift. Where the fuck was he? You normally had no problem with covering a Saturday shift but you really needed to leave early, the application for the internship was due soon and you hadn’t started it yet. You flinched, feeling the burn of scolding oat milk drip onto your hand. You shook your hand out, trying to ignore the pulsating emanating from the skin. 

You’d been burned before and worse, but you just wanted to get through this shift. You tipped the ceramic cup and poured the frothed milk into it, moving your wrist in tandem with tipping the cup, trying to quickly do the design that had become second nature to you at this point. Your mouth flattened into a tight line, almost smiling at the student as you handed them their coffee beverage. You were always glad that the coffee shop on campus had only a few options to choose from when it came to coffee orders. And they were all pretty easy to memorize and make. 

Heaven forbid you worked at a Starbucks, where you had to nail down complicated drink combinations and fulfill nauseating orders. Coffee was a sacred thing, at least to you, and it was the perfect concoction of bitter and sweet that had you hooked each time you drank it. People needed way too much sugar to actually enjoy a caffeinated beverage, and there was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t something you personally liked. 

You looked up from putting the oat milk back in the fridge when you heard the chime on the door, ready to greet the person who had just entered with a welcoming smile, but that smile flattered when you saw who had just walked in. Your new English professor, the one with the tight ass. You shook your head. Okay, from here on out you were not allowed to think of him that way. He made his way to where you were, an easy pace to his walk. You swallowed as your eyes raked over him. He was wearing brownish-green slacks that seemed to fit him snuggly in places that you couldn’t look away from, and a stylish brown tweed jacket, which stretched across his forearms and chest tightly. 

He gifted you with a smile, his lips perfectly rounded and pink even though they hid underneath a subtle stubble. You opened your mouth to speak but apparently, you had no knowledge of the English language at this current point in time. 

“Could I get a latte?”, Professor Miller asked. 

You had heard him speak in front of nearly a hundred people earlier this week and yet, you were taken completely off guard by the throaty yet softspoken quality of his voice. How soothing and intimate it was when it touched your ears. It made you shiver, imagining how it would sound in the harshness of night when he was on top of you, thrusting slowly, and giving you words of encouragement while you took his thick—

“Yes”, you squawked, stepping back from the counter and burying your head in the coffee machine as you prepared his latte, trying not to let it show how heated your cheeks probably were. 

You heard a low chuckle from him as he paid, turning on his heels and standing in front of you, the bar of the counter the only thing acting as a barrier between the two of you. 

“You’re from my English Lit class, right?”, he asked, his Southern drawl sweeping over your whole body, making your stomach flutter. 

You looked up briefly, not ready to meet his eyes for fear that he could read your thoughts if you let him. You nodded, ducking back down and concentrating. 

“Thought so”. His voice was filled with amusement and something else as you felt the weight of his stare. 

You placed his finished latte on the counter, stuffing your hands into your back pockets as you waited for him to grab it. He took hold of the cup and the saucer but he didn’t move, plastered in place as you locked eyes with him. His pupils were double their original size as he scanned your features, seemingly staring into your soul. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t find the strength. 

His mouth tipped up at the edges, “Since I can get an unbiased opinion from one of my students...”, he paused, thinking about his next words thoughtfully, “How did you find my first day? Been meaning to ask one of you...”. 

You cleared your throat, “I think you did well. If my opinion matters at all”. 

Professor Miller snickered under his breath, nodding, “It does. Thank you for your honesty”, he twisted around but spoke over his shoulder, “I think you’ll find that I have a lot that I can teach you, and I look forward to the rest of the semester”. 

And with that, Joel continued to a table near the back corner of the coffee shop, setting his beverage on the surface and taking out his phone. He didn’t look up at you for the duration of his time, sipping his coffee, head buried in his phone for about an hour before leaving. He gave you a small wave as he left, which made your cheeks flame. 

You really needed to get a grip on yourself and not read more into his words. But you couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else. I think you’ll find that I have a lot that I can teach you... He meant it in terms of the course, not whatever your idle mind told you it was really about. But you couldn’t help but dig into the double meaning behind those words. You were sure he could teach you a thing or two, he definitely looked like someone who had more experience when it came to sexual things. God, what was wrong with you? Joel— Professor Miller was a nice man, someone you could surely rely on when it came to your studies, you shouldn't be thinking of him that way. 

You were just tired and in need of some sleep. Yeah, that’s why you were letting images best left in the dark corners of your mind float to the forefront. Occupying yourself for the rest of your shift, eventually, Joel and that whole interaction became a distant memory, leaving your mind as fast as it had manifested. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You settled into a lacklustre routine as the week came and went in a flash. You hadn’t had another one-on-one conversation with Professor Miller, much to your relief. You’d been using your job at the coffee shop, studying and catching up on homework, or even spending time out with friends, as a diversion when your mind began to wander back to that man that made your head spin and your every nerve ending light ablaze when his eyes settled on you in class. 

It wasn’t just a one-off coincidence when you felt it the first time, it wasn’t even a coincidence the second time that you’d felt it either. It was becoming something permanently stuck in your head; when you would see him again, and you made a bet with yourself before every class. Would you get that same flutter in your stomach when you saw him standing before the class, back turned to you and that backside calling out to you? And every time, you would win or lose, depending on your outlook that day. You had a monster crush on your English professor and it was becoming a hindrance. 

Each day you’d wonder what he would think of your outfit, because yeah, now you were actually having to think about your appearance, you actually cared. You wanted him to care, to notice, for his heady gaze to bore into you for a little longer than any of the other girls in your class that he looked at. It was maddening, having him on your mind when you were awake and when you were asleep. You’d conjure the dirtiest images of him and you when you were alone at night, not caring in the slightest as you slid a hand into the waistband of your panties, driven to the edge of insanity if you didn’t ease the overwhelming flutters that never seemed to quit. 

You told yourself that what you were doing was innocent, that because Joel was in your proximity, it was only a natural progression that you’d develop something of a crush on him. But what you didn’t account for was how badly you wanted to act on it. How sometimes when you hung around after class, trying to work up the nerve to talk to him, you’d half-expect him to throw you onto his desk and pound into you, roughly, eagerly, your name slipping past his lips as he worshiped your tight cunt. But, he never did. And the more you thought about how much you wanted it, the more it became unrealistic. 

He was your teacher, for fuck’s sake, and you were his student. Nothing would happen and nothing could happen. But at night, when the stillness of the darkness crept in and you were having trouble falling asleep, your mind still strayed to the man old enough to be your father and you’d cum to the thought of him, over and over again, until your sated body and mind lulled to sleep. And then, when your alarm shrieked in the morning and you had to peel yourself from your bed and get ready for the morning, you’d be overcome with shame. Shame and regret. Because you were getting yourself off to the image of a man who probably wanted nothing to do with you, and you felt like a creep. 

You’d go about your day as normally as you could until you saw Joel in class again, and something as innocent as making contact with his hand as he gave you a quiz would ignite those flutters again, making them unquenchable. 

You were currently out with a few friends from your English class, and Jeremy had decided to tag along. The guy was a social butterfly and could fit in with any group easily. It was actually getting on your nerves, how your friends were currently swooning and chatting to him while you just sat there, waiting for them to loop you into the conversation. Jeremy caught your eyes over the shoulder of your friend, Cat, who was shamelessly flirting with him. Not that you minded, it was great that he was looking for someone. You had thought that you’d broken him when you broke up but it must have been all in your head. 

“Let’s dance”, Jeremy said to Cat, taking her hand in his, making her giggle as she stood up from her seat, and letting him guide them to the dance floor. 

You watched as his hands moved down her body, settling on her hips, and swaying them both in time with the slow song that was playing from the jukebox in the corner. Feelings you’d thought you had buried long ago came swelling to the surface, which had nothing to do with Jeremy moving on right before your eyes and everything to do with how lonely you felt. It hadn’t really hit you until this moment, watching two people who you considered friends, getting closer. 

You had a stupid habit of putting your needs on the back burner and suffering because of it. But growing up in a household that would rather see you be quiet than entertain any of your ideas or thoughts or feelings had done a number on you. Instead of seeking out what you wanted, you always held back, afraid of upsetting someone and losing their respect. It was the dumbest hang up but you couldn’t shake it. Even when you were in your twenties, it lingered. The feeling of not being good enough, for anyone. 

You turned around in your seat, giving Jeremy and Cat some privacy, the call of alcohol in whatever form suddenly calling out to you like a siren song. 

“Shots?”, you asked the remainder of your friends, which elicited a resounding and enthusiastic response. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The time was crawling into the early hours and yet you still knocked back shot after shot, not caring much that the bar manager was growing annoyed at you and your still rowdy group of friends, probably seconds away from kicking you all out. Jeremy had brought Cat home hours ago but the rest of you decided that the night was still young, and so were you. 

You’d been dancing for the majority of the night, switching dancing partners as much as you’d switched between different liquors, but you were alone now, moving your hips from side to side as you nursed a drink of some kind, not really knowing what was in it. Your friend, Ayesha came over to you, stumbling and almost knocking into you. 

“Look what I just found”, she slurred, holding her phone near your face. 

You squinted, trying to get the dizziness to subside long enough for you to focus on the image she had pulled up. But it was difficult, you were really drunk. 

“What’s is it?”, you asked, hiccuping loudly. You covered your mouth with your hand. 

“It’s him”, she screeched, jumping up and down, “Professor Miller, I found his Tinder. God, he looks yummy”. 

Your heart sank to the dark and twisted pit in your stomach and you felt like retching right then and there. But, it was inevitable, for the spell to break, it was only a matter of time. Fuck. You rubbed at your eyes, hoping that this was all a dream. Just a really demented trick that your mind was playing on you. But when you removed your hands from your face and everything around you came back into view, you knew it was reality. Because of course a man like Joel Miller, the rugged yet charming English professor from Austin, Texas would have a dating profile. He was surely dating people and having sex. Lots and lots of sex with women his own age, not with his students. 

You took a step back from your friend and uttered something about feeling sick and wanting to go home. They offered to Uber back to your apartment with you but you made up some excuse about it being dirty, so you didn’t want them to see it like that. A short Uber ride and you were sinking down against your front door, running your hands through your hair, and smacking your head back in frustration. You were an idiot, and right now, you were a drunk idiot. 

Getting up from the floor, you fished around in your purse for your phone and settled into bed, not bothering to change or take your make-up off. It was way out of the realm of what you could muster from yourself right now, and honestly, it was a whole task in and of itself. You mindlessly scrolled through various apps on your phone, trying to occupy your mind, anything to not think about the shocking and devastating revelation you’d had tonight. 

You paused when you hit your email inbox, seeing a new email from Professor Miller. You sat up in bed, fumbling with your hair like he could see you through the phone. You clicked into the email, your eyes struggling to focus on the small text. You skimmed it, something about a missing attachment from the previous email you had sent him. You groaned, feeling like your world was spinning on its axis. Maybe it was from the alcohol or maybe it was because of the damning truth that you never had a shot with Joel, to begin with. 

You thumbed the tiny icon to attach the missing document to the email, replied back to him, and threw your phone away from you. Maybe you’d feel better about things in the morning, but you strongly doubted it. Nothing could cure how heartbroken you were and nothing could help you through it. Wallowing would have to do but for tonight, all you wanted was sleep.

taglist: @joeldjarin @pedrorascal @magpiepills @eliza-8 @noisynightmarepoetry @untamedheart81 @eldauvs @paanchusblog

let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

[di-42]

A bit late this time, sorry! 

Almost all I had the time to read in December was the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards Advent Calendar collection. I’m late in catching up with one of the wonderful WIPs below, and I’m criminally late in catching up with the long fiction I’m reading, but it is what it is.

As always I’ll try to tag all the writers and artists whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved and appreciated they are. If you know the username of someone I haven’t tagged please tag them. If you are on this list and would rather not, please let me know and I'll take you and your work off the list immediately. If you enjoy my lists and want to be tagged when I post them, give me a shout!

Last but not least, I wish you all a wonderful 2025, filled with friendship, creativity, discovery, awe and love for all things big and small, even Brother Snail.

Without further ado, let me tell you what I loved about

December’s Delightful Fictions

WIPs:

Wavelengths & Frequencies, by @shadesofecclescakes and imposterssyndrome @maaikeatthefullmoon Rated E, chapters 16/?

This story is such a warm, cozy, comfort blanket. Enemies-to-lovers human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley work as DJ for the same media corporation. They have a history, but we don't know what it is at the beginning. Great story, great humour, great characterisation, great fuzzies, absolutely great banter! I look forward to every update and do a little joyful dance every time I get an update notification. This fiction is becoming one of my all time favourites.

You're The Bad Guys, by Nebz_AlphaCentauri @alphacentaurinebula Rated E, chapters 23/26?

Cold war human AU in which Aziraphale is an MI6 agent and Crowley is a KGB agent. Each of them is assigned to a mission in Berlin, from opposite sides of course. Great characterisation, suspense and references to canon.

Scribbling Vaguely Downwards Advent Calendar:

A lovely collection of winter and Christmas themed one shots, short stories and artworks, to which I’ve been lucky enough to take part. I invite you to go through the whole collection, as each piece is a little gem. I have read all but two of the stories, which will be in my January list.

My own piece for the collection, Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k.

Every year, the night before Christmas, taxi driver Aziraphale drives passengers to and from the hospital for charity. On the Christmas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

This my very first attempt at human AU, and it was great fun to write it without being bound by anything canon. It gave me a chance to play with some feelings and characterisations that I just don’t see in canon, but I like in fiction. I tried to throw in the mix a bit of humour, a tiny bit of short lived angst and, of course a happy ending!

Naked And Afraid: Jingle Hell by @klikandtuna, rated T, 24k.

Human AU. A fictional transcription of an episode of reality show Naked And Afraid. Yes, Naked And Afraid is a real show, and no, you don’t need to have watched it to enjoy this sweet, funny, from strangers-to-lovers fiction. Lighthearted and yet tense, great characterisation, banter, will-they-won’t-they, humour, this fiction has it all! I absolutely loved it. Honestly, you don’t know me, but trust me: if I speak enthusiastically about a fiction based on a survival show, it must be that good.

Nooooo Mooooore Touching My Angel by Adara83, 2k.

Post second coming story where angels and demons have meetings and get-togethers. At the latest Christmas meeting Crowley and Aziraphale got very protective of each other. Very sweet story.

Something On The Wind (Or Jingle Chimes) by Aspiring_Eccentric, 5k.

I loved this human AU! Crowley has been driven mad by the new neighbour’s wind chimes. I don’t think I need to tell you who the new neighbour is. Humour, fluff, flirting and spot on characterisation, this fiction was a real Christmas treat!

An Ineffable Christmas Carol by Aikosakura, artwork.

1800s Crowley and Aziraphale take a Christmas eve stroll.

A Christmas Miracle by IneffableChocolateCheeseCake and Ngk @ngk-668rated E, 4k.

A sweet, hot, and funny in-canon story where supreme archangel Gabriel grants all the angels a free miracle to use for personal purposes one Christmas day. Guess how Aziraphale chooses to use his? Words by Ngk and art by IneffableChocolateCheeseCake. Lovely, lovely story!

My Angel, My Light by icegirl99, rated T, 2k.

Aziraphale drags Crowley to be the elf to his Santa one Christmas eve. Gentle and fluffy. 

They Are The Magi by LyricalKris, rated T, 8k.

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley meet at a book club and end up meaning the world to each other.

Winter’s Rages by miladyshakespeare, rated G, 427 words.

A storm is raging in 1719. Any more than that would mean spoiling the story, but honestly, it’s astounding that so much goodness and so much subtle humour is contained in such a short story. Artful and clever, I truly loved it!

Reindeer Mistletoe by Yvesriba, rated G, artwork.

Those reindeer antlers couldn't have been in a better place!

The Soho Route by Caedmon @caedmonfaith , rated G, 11k.

Human AU where Crowley is a delivery man who’s taken a shine to the lovely bookseller he delivers parcels to. If only the bookseller was interested in him. A sweet story featuring an oblivious Crowley and an undeterred Aziraphale.

It’s A Wonderful Film by Heretic1103, rated T, 2k.

Post canon Cgristmas eve, filled with fluff and domestic bliss. Lovely.

Do You Remember The Roses? (The Snow Queen Retold With Good Omens Characters) by Augenblickgotter, rated G, 13k.

Lovely retelling of the Andersen’s tale.

Furfur, A Red-Nosed Reindeer by @ineffablechocolatecheesecake, rated T, artwork.

Great artwork featuring Crowley and Aziraphale doing what they should be doing all the time! But poor Furfur!

The Perfect Christmas by HumoringHolly, rated M, 13k.

Post canon story set a few years in the future. Aziraphale and Crowley host a Christmas party and invite Adam and Warlock. They hit it off in the best possible way! 

A Light In The Darkness by PinkPenguinParade, rated G, 561 words.

Lovely, warm post canon scene.

A Little Peek by Dukeofnone, rated, artwork.

The sweetest Crowley and Aziraphale peek from the boxes of an advent calendar. I loved this artwork!

Hissy Fit by @dragonfire42, rated T, 6k.

Inspired by Gleafer’s art this story is hilarious, delightful, heartwarming, and wonderfully written. Great characterisation and banter and strong Aziraphale, to which I may or may not be partial to. Crowley is shedding, enough said. I laughed all the way through.

Mnemosyne’s Feast by ravendiana, rated G, 1k.

Canon-divergent story where the final fifteen never happened. Crowley doesn’t trust himself with words, so he attempts to communicate his feelings to Aziraphale through memories awoken by food. This story was really touching and heartwarming, I loved it so much!

Radiant by CaelumCalamitas, rated G, 4k.

Lovely South Down cottage story with an incredibly warm and touching ending.

Eyes On Me by AVoiceBehindTheStars, rated G, artwork.

Aziraphale is teaching Crowley to ice skate. Beautiful piece framing a lovely moment in the existences of the husbands.

The Angel Tree by GoodInspirationsAD, rated T, 8k.

Post season 2 fiction with a lovely happy ending. Aziraphale is in heaven and Crowley, as heartbroken as he is, replaces him in making sure the London Hospital Angel Tree initiative has presents for all the patients. Meanwhile, Aziraphale worries that, with him in heaven, some patients will be left with no gifts, so he has to go down to earth and fulfill the patients’ wishes. Hurt, comfort, communication, intimacy, South Down cottage, AND Cgristmas all in one fiction, what more do you want?

All My Own In A Big Red Bow by @supergeek21, rated E, 2k.

Present wrapping frustration, present unwrapping heat. Sexy and tender at the same time.

Tom Bawcock’s Eve by Snowfilly1, rated T, 2k.

I loved this story about human resilience and bravery. A long time ago, Crowley and Aziraphale went to a village in Cornwall and helped the villagers fight against a storm.

Holy Infant, So Tender And Mild by Caedmon, rated G, 3k.

Jesus has been born and an angel and a demon keep him entertained while Mary rests.

Geminids by astral_gravy, not rated, artwork.

I absolutely love this amazing piece showing our favourite angel and demon in the midst of a meteor shower! Beautiful!

Boxing Day by Starshadow667, not rated, 1.7k.

Crowley and Aziraphale go ice skating with their children.

Stargazer by Raechem, rated G, 2k.

Oh, I loved this story, I truly did. So gentle, and touching, and deep. Set at some point in the past, OC’s POV. OC helps a snake she finds in her garden that had been caught in some rope. The snake comes to visit her again, and an owl comes looking for the snake. I don’t want to spoil it and won’t say anything else, but please show some love to this gem of a fiction.

Dec 31- Happy New Year! by Miele_Petite, rated G, artwork.

Biblical Crowley and Aziraphale with a night sky background. Beautiful!

November's list here.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @honeybee-taskforce

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @strandnreyes @ironheartwriter

@orchidscript @nisbanisba @lemonlyman-dotcom

@whatsintheboxmh @nancys-braids @paperstorm 💙💦

For WIP Wednesday may I interest you in a Work is Published Wednesday, while there is still summer left?: When Soulmates Swim

He loops his right arm around Carlos' left, and Carlos looks at him with a little surprise and something like – maybe – a lot of love.

TK knows now what he fears. He has become afraid to die. He hasn't been afraid to die for a long time. But now he is. He’s more scared than he's been for months, or even years. He wants to live to be a very old man.

"Remember, we don't have to do this. If we get to the edge and you want to go back, we go back," Carlos says.

TK lets go of Carlos’ arm and takes his hand instead, subjecting Carlos to his sweaty palm. Carlos doesn't seem to mind at all. He swings their hands and curls his fingers, holding him snug.

"We're doing this," TK says.

One slow step at a time, they walk to the edge of the platform and take a moment to look down. The greenish water bubbles prettily, ready to catch them like thousands of tiny, soft hands. Splashes and voices bounce off the tiles of the massive space. The smell is sweat and plastic and chlorine.

"So, we're not actually going to dive and do any positions. We're just going to jump straight," Carlos says, "Keep your legs together, as much as possible, the whole time. We want to try to enter smooth, feet first."

"Understood," TK says. He stands to attention, his legs touching each other. His beautiful, healed legs that have climbed him so high. "Okay. I'm ready." He looks at Carlos.

Carlos smiles at him warmly and pecks him on the lips. It's so quick and unexpected, TK doesn't kiss him back, and almost forgets what they're doing.

"On my count of three?"

TK nods.

"Okay. Here we go. Three...two...one..."

Read on Ao3 - 53k words, 7 chapters, rated E for Eeeee!!!!!!!!!

Open tag and tags below!:

@lightningboltreader @goodways @ladytessa74

@reyesstrand @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @herefortarlos

@three-drink-amy @anactualcaseofthetruth @emsprovisions

@sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @kiwichaeng

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @fitzherbertssmolder

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@carlos-tk @tellmegoodbye @sugdenlovesdingle

@theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @never-blooms

@chicgeekgirl89 @sanjuwrites @alrightbuckaroo

@liminalmemories21 @never-blooms @rmd-writes @welcometololaland

If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! - ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[supernova-stardust]

A Habit to Kick (The Age-Old Curse)

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 after the break wip | rated M | jegulus | wolfstar | rosekiller | total word count: 19,273 full fic also on ao3

A few weeks ago, Regulus Black jumped off a bridge. It's not that he really wanted to die, but he didn't really want to live either. He didn't think anyone would care one way or another, if he's honest. Now he's stuck learning how to live.

James Potter was used to seeing Reg every day at the cafe he worked in, until one day he stopped coming in. When he finally sees the guy he's been crushing on come back into the cafe, he knew he had to take his chance at asking him out on a date.

***This fic deals with heavy themes of depression, lack of a will to live, and suicide, but will have a happy ending***

Regulus threw himself onto his bed and let out a heavy groan. He thought that nothing his brother did could surprise him anymore, but here he was, shocked. Sirius hadn't acted this immature since they both lived at home with their parents and Regulus had always assumed that it was in act of defiance more than anything else. He couldn't help but wonder what had triggered his brother to be so over-protective when he had been the one encouraging him to go on the date in the first place. He had to know what going on a date meant, right?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the text thread with James, staring at the glaringly bright screen in contemplation. He started typing out a few messages before promptly deleting each one.

sorry about my bother

you're a great kisser

hey i had a nice time, sorry my brother ruined it

funny story, a few weeks ago i jumped off a bridge because i was so desperately lonely that it felt better than living with the fear of being forever alone, anyway that's why my brother is a fucking menace to society right now

He continued to stare at the open thread, wondering what he could even say, when a text from James popped up on the screen.

[James]: hey, i had an amazing time with you. i'd love to go on another date, is later this week too soon? i really want to see you again.

Regulus fumbled his phone from shock and then immediately began spiraling. Had James watched as Regulus typed and typed and typed, never sending a message of his own? Of course having the thread open, James would have seen that Regulus had read the text immediately. He quickly typed a reply.

[Regulus]: i would love that, my treat like we talked about. how's friday? [James]: friday's perfect, you plan and let me know details, but i'll plan to pick you up since you don't have a car? [Regulus]: sounds perfect, can't wait

James reacted to his message with a heart almost immediately and he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Then, another text came through and Regulus nearly screamed. He probably would have if his brother and Remus weren't in his apartment to judge him.

[James]: can't wait to kiss you again [Regulus]: you have no idea how pissed i am at my brother for interrupting us [James]: i have some idea *exhaling emoji*

Regulus laughed, imaging James' face making the same expression. He heard a soft knock at his door and locked his phone as he placed it on his nightstand. "Go away, Sirius."

Sirius opened the door anyway, a sheepish look painted on his face. "Look, I know you don't want to see me right now—"

"You're right, I don't. Leave."

"I want to explain myself. Please?"

"I don't want to listen right now. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm less pissed."

"Yeah, sure, I mean… I wanna believe that. I do. Except we both know that you don't get less pissed. You just ruminate."

"Let me ruminate, Sirius."

"Listen—"

"No, fuck off." Regulus grabbed a porcelain trinket tray from his bedside table and dumped the contents onto the surface before holding the tray up in his hand. "I will throw this at your head if you don't fuck off right now."

Sirius held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He left the room, closing the door gently behind him. As Regulus laid back, he overheard his brother and Remus talking in hushed tones in the hallway, but he wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

He appreciated both of them, he really did. He would even go so far as to admit to himself—never to Sirius—that they were a huge reason why he decided to follow through on all of the treatment he's been participating in. Sure, a huge lesson in therapy was that he needed to do it for himself, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about himself enough to get better right now. He did, however, care about Sirius. He cared about Remus. Maybe it was pathetic to consider his only reason for carrying on to be his brother and his brother's boyfriend, but it was the truth.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

***

In the morning, Regulus mindlessly went through his routine before going to the café, driven solely by the motivation to see James. As he hurried through the door, he immediately deflated upon seeing his least favorite barista behind the counter instead. Peter.

It wasn't that Peter was unpleasant, in fact the problem very well might have been that he was too pleasant. He was boisterous and what he lacked in ability, he made up for in friendly discussion and remembering every detail about each person who came through the door. He may have routinely burned himself with steamed milk, but he always had a laugh at himself about it. Regulus found him to be absolutely irritating.

"Want anything other than your black coffee, Reg?"

"No, thank you." Regulus replied curtly as he took out his cash.

"You sure? I know you don't usually grab anything to eat, but the almond croissants are especially good today." Peter gave him a smile that was far too cheerful for the early hour as he poured the cup of coffee.

"I'm good," Regulus deadpanned. He held out the cash for his coffee in a polite attempt to end the conversation, but when Peter placed the coffee on the counter, he reached into the pastry case. He placed an almond croissant on a plate and set it on the counter next to the coffee and Regulus gaped in shock.

"On the house," Peter said cheerfully. "Have a great day!"

When Peter didn't take the cash in Regulus' outstretched hand he placed it on the counter and picked up the coffee and the croissant. He stared at the abomination of a pastry the entire time he walked towards the back of the café. Placing his things down on the table and sitting down, he continued to glare at the croissant. It wasn't that he didn't like croissants—he did, very much so—but almond? Who on earth had thought to put the least impressive nut inside something so decadent as a croissant?

He sipped his coffee—it tasted terrible—and decided that today was going to be awful.

***

This was the first time Regulus had participated in group therapy that wasn't mandated by the hospital as a part of his treatment. Participated was a strong word, really. He sat in a metal folding chair and disassociated as everyone around him shared their traumatic backstory, a valid reason for their attempts at ending it all.

He couldn't help but to feel inadequate. First, his reasons for jumping off a bridge were trivial at best, and then he couldn't even kill himself properly.

None of his backstory was nearly as traumatic as anything he had heard here today. Here were people who had been terribly abused, neglected, and in one case quite literally tortured. Yet here he sat, among these people with real reasons to give up on living, with nothing but a little bit of religious trauma and loneliness to fuel his suicide attempt.

The group leader, Poppy, looked to him next. He had been so self-indulged in feeling sorry for himself that he hadn't heard what she said. "What?" Regulus asked, making it clear to the entire room that he hadn't been paying attention. He heard a few people laugh under their breath and he did his best to ignore them.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us today, Regulus?" Poppy was kind, her voice gentle. He hair was pulled back in a way that would make many look severe and cruel, but on her it accentuated her softness. Everything from her face, to her voice, to her body was soft and sweet. She exuded a type of maternal energy that Regulus had longed to feel his entire life.

He resented her for it. It made him feel weak in the face of her questions.

"I— Well, I fired my therapist this week."

"Did something happen?" She asked, probing him to elaborate.

"Not really? I just…didn't like him." He answered like it was a question. When she didn't say anything he continued. "He was late to the appointment. He didn't bother to take the time to read my chart before our session. I just didn't feel like he cared, so I fired him."

"I've fired therapists before," a girl with platinum hair said in an airy voice. "The least they can do is be likeable. Awful of them to not be likeable, really."

"Pandora, we've talked about this. You can't villainize people because you don't like them. People are all individuals and not liking someone doesn't make them bad," Poppy admonished.

"Yes it does." Pandora answered so plainly that Regulus choked out a laugh.

Poppy leveled a reprimanding look towards Pandora before turning back to Regulus. "Have you found a new therapist then?"

"Uh…"

"Regulus, group therapy is a great tool to help in your recovery process, but one-on-one therapy is very important. Stay after for a few moments so I can give you a list of therapists who are taking new patients, okay?" Poppy said with no room for Regulus to argue.

Group therapy continued with Regulus staying silent throughout everyone else updating the group about their weeks and their goals. When Poppy asked Regulus what his goal for the week was, he said to find a new therapist, taking the easy way out so that he didn't have to think any further. He had been intending on it anyway, but now he was going to milk it for all that it was. As everyone got up to leave, Pandora gave him a smile and a wave before heading out with a skip in her step. Regulus followed Poppy to where she had left her belongings and she rifled through her bag to find the list of therapists she promised him.

"I try to keep this list up to date with therapists who are currently open for new patients and who would be able to see you soon, so you shouldn't need to call too many in order to get an appointment in the next week or so." Poppy pulled out the list and held it out to him. He hesitated for a moment before finally taking it in his hand and scanning it over.

"Do you know any of them personally?" He knew it was a bit of an invasive question, but Poppy was kind and if she knew any of these therapists herself, he hoped that her knowing them would be a bit of a filter in his search for the right therapist for him.

"I went to school with Sybil Trelawney. She's… Very kind. Different. She tends to be a bit outside of the box for most, but she means well. I find that sometimes it's refreshing to see things from her perspective though."

"Thanks," Regulus said and he meant it. "I'll give her office a call to make an appointment. I could do with a new perspective, I think."

"I hope it works out," Poppy said with a gentle smile as she grabbed her bag and followed him out the door.

When Regulus stepped outside, he saw Remus leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and let out a groan. "I can walk home alone just fine, you know. It's only a fifteen minute walk."

Remus took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, avoiding looking at Regulus as he did. "I know, I'm not here to babysit you."

Regulus leaned against the wall and held out his hand in a silent request to share the cigarette Remus was smoking.

"I didn't know you smoked," Remus said.

"I thought you weren't babysitting."

"Fair enough." Remus handed him the cigarette and watched Regulus take a long drag. When Regulus exhaled without coughing, Remus took out another cigarette from his pack and lit it. Regulus raised an eyebrow but continued to smoke. "You clearly need it."

"I do," Regulus laughed, a hollow and humorless thing. "Why are you here then?"

"I wanted to talk about your brother."

"I'd really rather not."

"I know, but we all have to live together for the next week or so and I'd rather it be peaceful. I can't handle the stress."

Regulus took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the scars painting Remus' face as he mulled over his words. Life hadn't been kind to Remus—not when it came to the body he was forced to live in. Even at his young age, there were days where he struggled to get out of bed. Plagued by rheumatoid arthritis and lingering injuries from a childhood car accident, his joints would flare up in agony whenever the weather was particularly cold or when the stress was too heavy on his shoulders.

"You should quit smoking if you're so concerned with your health."

"Sure, and you should talk to your brother. We both have to do things we don't want to, I guess."

"Oh, come on." Regulus complained as he tilted his head back into the wall and stared at the overcast sky.

"You walked into that one, I'm afraid." Remus pushed himself off the wall and stubbed his cigarette out, pocketing the trash and giving Regulus a look that said let's go.

Regulus followed suit and the two of them walked towards his apartment in silent understanding. Neither of them were chatty or wanted to spill their guts out to one another, but they had always understood each other all the same.

"He didn't mean to ruin your date, you know." Remus said, breaking the silence when they were nearly home. "He just says shit sometimes, doesn't even think about it before it comes out of his mouth. I know you know what I mean, you grew up with him. He's mortifying sometimes. And protective. I know the impact overshadows his intentions, but he really does mean well. What you did—the whole jumping thing—it really fucked him up. He won't say it because he's trying not to make it about him, but it did. Fucked me up too, if we're having an honest moment here. I think you need to give him a little bit of grace to act childish right now. We're all coping the best we can."

"I'm not acting—"

"I'm not even gonna let you finish that sentence, you've been petulant and childish. You literally shoved him, Reg. And that's okay, we've been letting you act out. But you need to give Sirius the same grace, this happened to him too. He nearly lost his little brother and now he's doing the best he can to be strong and act like it didn't hurt so it's easier for you."

"Can we go back to unhealthy coping mechanisms? I want another cigarette."

"Nah, we just quit. Besides, we're home. I can't be seen as an enabler."

"We did not—Ugh, he's gonna smell it on us anyway." Regulus groaned as they walked up the walkway to his apartment. "Just one more, then I swear we can quit."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter anyway. "You're awful, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Regulus smirked, taking the cigarette from Remus' outstretched hand. He put it in his mouth and leaned into Remus' space as he lit the cigarette for him. "I can't help it though, I'm a byproduct of my upbringing. Just look at what a mess my brother is. Therapy can only do so much."

Remus laughed before lighting his own cigarette and taking a deep drag. "How was therapy anyway?"

"It was therapy? I don't know. It never seems to make much of a difference."

"You get out of it what you put in, you know." Remus shrugged. "Not saying that you're not putting in the effort, but you're not exactly known to be the most vulnerable guy around."

"I've already had terrible coffee, gone to therapy, been babysat by you, and now you want to give me more therapy?" Regulus inhaled his cigarette. "I'm gonna get a fucking migraine before I even talk to Sirius."

"Hey, I said I wasn't babysitting."

"Could have fooled me."

Remus chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. "Fair enough, c'mon." He walked away and flicked his finger between Regulus' brows. "Sirius was in a good mood when I left."

Regulus trudged up the steps behind Remus and they walked inside together. He shoved his hands into his pockets in search of something to do with his body. Talking to his brother wasn't something that he was exactly pleased about—Sirius wasn't known to admit when he was wrong, but then again, neither was Regulus. Growing up, they couldn't show any sign of weakness, and admitting they were wrong was a huge weakness that they couldn't risk. He was trying to be better, though. The two of them had made huge progress in the last few years in regards to their relationship, but they also hadn't had many opportunities to fight as they had. Something about living together brought out the worst in both of them.

"Hey," Sirius said from the couch in the living room. His voice sounded small and unsure. "How'd it go?"

Regulus wasn't sure if Sirius was talking to him or to Remus, but he answered anyway. "It was fine. I got a new recommendation for a therapist. Gonna call tomorrow, I'm too beat to do it today."

Sirius nodded. "Good, that's… Good. I'm glad you found someone new."

Regulus sat on the couch next to him and watched Remus walk past the living room into the kitchen to busy himself. Close, but not intruding. Just present enough to help diffuse the situation if the brothers blew up at one another.

"Look, I— I'm sorry I shoved you."

"It's fine, Reggie, I get it. I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Regulus scoffed. "You didn't ruin my date, asshole. I'm seeing him again on Friday."

"Oi, then why did you get so pissed?"

"I said you didn't ruin my date, I didn't say you didn't ruin the moment. Which was amazing, by the way—"

"I really don't want to hear about how great making out was from my baby brother," Sirius complained.

"Then you shouldn't have interrupted the moment." Regulus leaned back into the couch and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "I really like him, you know. He's not just in it for the sex, I think he actually wants to get to know me."

Sirius pulled him in closer, hugging his body and resting his head on top of Regulus' dark curls. "That's good, Reggie. I'm glad, honest. I want you to be able to come to me and talk about it, just… Don't tell me about your sex life. You can talk to Remus about that. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So… are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"You stink like cigarettes," Sirius said solemnly into the quiet room. Regulus heard Remus choke on a laugh in the kitchen—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

"Don't ruin the moment. Remus and I quit today." Regulus said, including Remus in the whole concept of 'quitting' as punishment for babysitting and eavesdropping.

Sirius hummed. "Glad to hear it, he's needed to quit for a while."

***

"Oh, thank God it's you today," Regulus said as he walked into the café to find James working behind the counter.

"Well aren't you sweet," James said, laughing and pouring Regulus' coffee.

Digging through his bag for cash, Regulus snorted. "Peter is a fucking nightmare, James. Why does he still work here?"

"What, you're just happy to see me because Pete can't manage to brew a cup of coffee?" James gave him a mock pout and held his coffee just out of reach. "And here I thought I was special."

"You are, but Peter is so intolerable that he overshadows your greatness."

James stared at him in horror. "What did he do?"

"He made me take a croissant yesterday, wouldn't take no for an answer, and while I may have excused a plain croissant, he insisted that I try the almond one. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Almonds? In croissants? An abomination, truly. I swear he watched me the entire time I was here to see if I'd eat it." Regulus shook his head. "I didn't, for the record."

"What a terrible person he is," James said with mock outrage. "How dare he give out free croissants."

"Almond croissants, James."

"Yes, yes, you're right, love. Almond croissants. The horror."

Love. James said it so casually, Regulus was determined not to visibly react to the pet name, but internally he preened.

"Glad to know you're on my side on this." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I-I wanted to warn you that my friends are stopping by here today to meet up. They… might be insufferable."

"Your friends? Evan and Barty?"

Regulus nodded. "We haven't touched base in person in a bit and since this is the only place I go to besides my apartment and therapy these days, they're trapping me into hanging out. I can't break my routines and they know it." He paused, realizing too late how much he had just divulged to James in that moment. What was it about him that made Regulus feel as though he could say anything that came to mind?

"I think that's good of them," James said.

"Good of— Huh?" Regulus was speechless.

"Yeah, I mean, we all want to be seen, right? Seems like they see you for who you are and work with you."

What was with this guy?

"How are you so fucking perfect all the time?"

"I-I'm not, but I have done a lot of therapy myself. Teaches you things, y'know?"

"Yeah," Regulus said softly. "I suppose it does." He grabbed his coffee from the counter and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm not, but I'll see you tomorrow night? What time should I pick you up?"

"Let's shoot for 6, but I might be a little anxious and take a few minutes longer. Just… text me when you're there this time? I'll come out. I don't really want to have my brother ruin another date for us already."

"Can't wait." James gave him a soft smile. A blush dusted his cheeks and Regulus couldn't help but stare for an extra moment before turning away to allow James to continue his work.

Regulus settled into his usual booth, pulling his headphones on and placing his laptop and coffee on the table in front of him. He opened the outline of his novel and stared at the screen, hoping that a revelation to the plot would come to him. It didn't, of course, but staring at the screen while sipping coffee was a necessary component to writing a novel.

After working for a while, he glanced up to see Evan and Barty enter the café hand in hand and waved at them. Evan waved back as Barty walked up to the counter. Regulus' hearing was still impaired by his noise-canceling headphones, but very quickly he could tell that Barty was being a menace. He pulled his headphones off and pushed his way out of the booth towards his friends.

Evan immediately pulled him into a hug, which was… strange. They weren't huggers. In fact, he couldn't remember ever hugging Evan when he was sober.

"Uh, hi?" Regulus tried to pull away, but Evan just pulled him in tighter.

"I need you to promise not to kill Bee," Evan said under his breath.

"Sure."

"He's hitting on James."

"I take it back, he's dead."

"Reg, you promised."

"I lied."

Evan locked his arms around Regulus and spun them around so he was facing Barty. "Bee, I can't hold him back any longer, abort mission."

James and Barty laughed in unison and it immediately soothed Regulus' frayed nerves. He was worried that his friends were going to be too much. He knew that they were loud, silly, and overall a lot to handle. Most people were surprised by the fact that Regulus was a part of their group, but those people didn't know any of the trio well enough to know how perfectly they all fit together. Three completely different people perfectly designed to balance each other out.

"Aw, Reg, are you jealous?" Barty teased. He came up to where Evan was still hugging Regulus tightly and wrapped his arms around both of them, sandwiching Regulus between them. He planted a kiss on Evan's lips and then on the top of Regulus' head. "You have nothing to fear, James rejected me. Can you believe it?"

"Well, now that I know the three of you are that close," James said suggestively.

"Now you've done it," Regulus said.

"Done what?" James asked.

"Barty isn't gonna rest until he's gotten you into bed with us now," Evan sighed. "He practically begs Reg for a blowjob at every opportunity."

"Speaking of—"

"No." Evan and Regulus said in unison.

Regulus looked up to James in an attempt to gauge his comfort level. After their conversations around sex and dating, Regulus was nervous that Barty's forwardness and constant flirting would be abrasive, but James' eyes were crinkled with laughter and his expression was open. He wriggled his way out of his friend's embrace and glared at the two of them. "Can't you act normal for five minutes? At least long enough to properly greet someone?"

Barty and Evan adjusted themselves so that Barty had his arm slung over Evan's shoulder and Evan nestled himself into the crook of Barty's body. They couldn't help but to touch each other at every possible moment they were together. Two halves of a whole, with just enough space for Regulus and their mildly codependent queer platonic relationship.

"What's normal, Reg?" Evan asked. "Don't tell me you're getting boring in your old age. You used to be the wildest of us all."

James watched them carefully as he worked on making their coffees, silently observing and absorbing every detail that the three of them revealed.

"I was not," Regulus gaped. "Don't make shit up just to embarrass me in front of James."

"No, he's right," Barty said. "I might have always been the one that people expected to be crazy, but you're the one who always encouraged me and you can't even deny it."

"How crazy are we talking here?" James asked as he placed their coffees down on the counter in front of them. "Threesomes crazy or passing out from drinking crazy? Drugs?"

"Yes," Evan and Barty said in unison. Regulus had the fleeting thought that maybe he should have tried harder to kill himself—at least then he wouldn't be stuck in this conversation right now.

James laughed. He was expecting to be judged, but instead James said something that surprised them all. "I've been there too, I just wouldn't expect it from Reg—He's so quiet and unassuming."

"Not once he's had a few shots," Evan teased.

Regulus' eyes widened in shock, ignoring Evan in favor of finding out anything new he could from James' past. "You told me—"

"That doesn't mean that I've been a virtuous priest my entire life, Reg."

"I like him," Barty said with a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"We know," Evan smirked. "Let's go sit, yeah?" He moved to grab his coffee. "Thanks, James. It was great to meet you. Let's all get together sometime when you're not working and you can tell us all about your party days."

"Sounds great, it was nice meeting you guys too."

"Bye James," Barty sing-songed. "I'll miss you."

Regulus smacked Barty upside the back of his head as they walked together towards his table in the back of the café. "I could kill you, you know. I'm rich enough to pay off the cops and no one would ever find your body."

"You'd miss me too much and we all know it," Barty said.

They piled into the booth and Regulus put away his laptop to make space for his friends.

"So, how's writing going?" Evan asked, always one to start with a safe subject with Regulus. He was aware that his friend did this to help him put his guard down and while a part of him resented it, a bigger part of him appreciated that Evan always went out of his way to soften the blow of whatever heavier conversation they were about to have.

"Not great, honestly. I haven't been feeling inspired, I guess. Haven't written much the last few days."

"Maybe it's because you need to stop writing about murder and start writing romance," Barty suggested, leaning in conspiratorially. "How did the date go?"

"Barty, he's right there," Evan whispered.

"He can't hear us all the way over here. C'mon, spill."

Regulus sighed and took a sip of his coffee to delay the inevitable. "It was amazing."

"Why do you sound so put out by it?" Evan asked.

"Because, I just— He's so sweet, I'm afraid I'll ruin him."

"Was the sex good? I just know that man fucks like—"

"We didn't have sex." Regulus said quickly to avoid hearing whatever Barty was going to say next.

"You— What?" Barty sputtered in complete shock. Evan, however, looked pleased.

"We didn't have sex. He's… I think he's demisexual? He told me he hasn't gone on more than one or two dates with other men before, which… I was worried meant that he was just experimenting by dating me, but he says he's sure that he's queer so… I don't fucking know. He's sweet and fucking beautiful and I can't stop thinking about him, so I'm just gonna keep going at whatever pace he sets. Follow his lead."

"I'm impressed. Dare I say, proud?" Evan said. "I think this will be great for you, Reg. Even if it doesn't go further, just going on dates with someone without the expectation of it leading to sex is so important. And god, he really is beautiful. Did you guys kiss? Please tell me you kissed."

Regulus groaned. "You're never gonna fucking believe this."

He recounted the story of how amazing their first kiss had been, and then how it was immediately interrupted by his brother being absolutely terrible. The three of them laughed and made fun of Sirius, and caught up on everything they had missed out on in the last few weeks, completely ignoring the elephant in the room that was Regulus' attempt. It was like they had all made a silent agreement to never talk about it again, so long as Regulus was continuing his treatment and seemed to be improving. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that things did seem to be improving.

For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt content and was looking forward to the next day.

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @missmagooglie

I’ve been tippy tap typing away at various different scenes for Chapter 9 of Rival Firefighters 🚒. A few sentences here, a couple of hundred words there … trying to just go with the flow and let the words happen.

Todays snippet is a direct continuation on from this one. (Also I changed it from two days after the tsunami to one. So not the very next day, but the one after that. So Buck’s only had around 24 hrs to spiral instead of 48 … which is probably a good thing 😅)

Eddie had messaged him yesterday, updating him on Chris’s well-being and the results of his doctor & therapist appointments, and while Buck appreciates that Eddie did that (Buck hadn’t been able to feel a single drop of ease until Eddie’s first message that Chris’s doctor gave him the all clear), he doesn’t understand why.

Why was Eddie keeping him informed about Chris? Shouldn’t he be deleting Buck’s number and telling him that Buck is never to see Chris again? That their friendship is done and the only relationship they’ll have is at work? Until even that falls apart, Buck’s mere presence becoming too much for Eddie - a constant reminder that he almost lost Chris. That Buck put Chris in danger and almost got him killed.

Eddie had tried to call him last night, but Buck had ignored each attempt, unable to bring himself to answer and hear Eddie say everything he’s already said to himself for the past 24 hours. He knows he’s only delaying the inevitable, but he just can’t do it. Answering the phone mean’s saying goodbye and Buck never wants to say goodbye to Eddie. To Chris. They’re his family and he doesn’t want to lose them, even though he knows he already has.

Buck drops his head into his hands, ready to give in to the sea of despair and loss that beckons him to dive into its depth and drown, when there’s a knock at the door. With a weary sigh he gets to his feet, goes to the door and opens it. The sight of Eddie and Christopher standing on the other side is not one he was expecting to see today, or ever again.

Christopher smiles at him as he moves forward, leaning into Buck for a hug. “Hey, Buck.”

It’s a bit awkward, mainly because Buck’s brain is still trying to process the fact that they’re here and so he just kind of stands there, one hand still on the door and the other hanging by his side.

“Good morning, Buck.” Eddie says as he moves past them into the apartment.

Buck’s brain finally comes back online enough for him to wrap his arm around Chris loosely in a small return hug, afraid to hold on too tightly. Chris may not have sustained a lot of injuries in the tsunami, but Buck doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him. He’s done enough damage already.

No pressure tagging: @tizniz @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @watchyourbuck @athenagranted @wildlife4life @puppyboybuckley @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @mellaithwen @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @shortsighted-owl @theotherbuckley @prettyboybuckley @princessfbi @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @steadfastsaturnsrings @shitouttabuck @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @spagheddiediaz @ladydorian05 @bekkachaos @nmcggg and anyone else who wants to share something, be it a wip, some art or an edit. Everything and everyone is welcome 💕

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter's ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone. Time for my third week of fics I've read and loved recently. It's been a busy one so just a few this week, but they're all brilliant and with fortuitous timing if you're not one to read WIPs as two are about to be completed this weekend. If you missed last week's you can find it here for more!

19 January 2024

it dawns darling on the daffodil pastures by fleeceframe (@tasteslikevelvet) - what can I say? I audibly gasped when I saw the email notification that this had been posted. Every fleeceframe fic is like being gently told it's okay to slip away for a little while and just feel, and oh boy does this one deliver on that promise. A new instalment in the lovely garden tending series, but can be read as a standalone, this features sweet subby Dean asking his gentle dom Cas to take care of him, with as fleeceframe says "religious tones in the sexy fashion, and a decent amount of plot sprinkled in." When a hunt almost ends in disaster, Dean reflects on what it means to have the unconditional love of his angel watching over him. (Siri, play Radio Company.)

Wait for the Ricochet by @bobwess gives me all the time travel shenanigans I could hope for bringing a young teen Sam and Dean forward to the bunker to meet tfw circa season 12. A wip, it just updated with a new chapter that totally made me cry with all the young queer feelings. A lovely balance of fish out of water plot and coming to terms with a future whilst reckoning with your past, with wonderful sibling dynamics as well as a burgeoning destiel relationship that's still tentatively feeling it's way.

where there is darkness by quiettewandering (@wanderingcas) has been such a wonderful wip to follow along and the final chapters are being posted this weekend HAVE JUST BEEN POSTED!!! so there's no better time to start reading. I'm not ready to let these guys go! With an incredible amount of research, this is lighthouse keeper Dean (and Sam) in a post-war setting exploring how Dean keeps a handle on his ptsd whilst also grappling with having seen his father die. Meanwhile Cas has a past packed full of secrets, and where better to run and hide than a job at an isolated lighthouse where nobody knows him. They're each other's lights in the darkness whilst the ghosts of the past haunt them all, in this eerie and gothic romantic story that truly grips you by the throat.

Fortunate Son by @friendofcarlotta is another wip that's about to post its final chapter NOW COMPLETE and absolute masterclass in character development. Set during the Vietnam war, Sam is a law student and conscientious objector, Cas the son of a strict rich and religious family who is bought out of participating, and Dean determined to follow in his father's footsteps to become a war hero like the stories he heard when he was younger. Despite butting heads at first, Dean and Cas soon find themselves falling for each other. But the war is vicious, and unjust, and they all must grapple with how it impacts their lives in unexpected ways.

(and heck, because I can, and because this is what I was doing last weekend in lieu of reading, here's my Dean Winchester SPNWIN voiceover audio post, and my first ever attempt at an AMV fanvid featuring Ada Monroe).

[iam93percentstardust]

It's not just the commodification of fandom. It's not just the disinterest in wips in favor of completed stories. It's not just the unwillingness to take chances on new writers.

It's the demand for instant gratification too.

I'm posting a "wip" right now. It's actually a fully completed story, and I stated that in the A/N when I started posting it a few weeks ago. I finished writing it early in December. It's not going to be abandoned and discontinued. Short of a tragic accident, it will 100% be posted in its entirety before the end of January.

It's also almost 60k words long. Each chapter is approximately 14k words. That's a lot to expect people to read quickly, so I made the decision to post weekly instead of dumping it all at once. I don't normally do that for wips. I normally post bimonthly to give myself time to write the next chapter. But in concession to the fact that this one is already finished, I decided to post once a week. Could I have posted it all at once or even once a day? Sure, but again, I have more than a few close friends who are slow readers, and I thought it was better to give people the time to read each chapter and let it digest before dumping another one on them instead of making them feel like they have to read it immediately so they don't miss the next update.

This, apparently, was a mistake.

I've been very open about working on this fic since I started it in September. People told me they were excited to get the chance to read it every time I posted an update about where I was in the writing process. When I announced that I was posting it, they told me that they couldn't wait to read it. It's not like I was expecting massive numbers of kudos and comments; this fandom has shrunk in size and engagement, I'm not the most popular writer in it, and I try not to feel entitled to engagement, but considering all the people telling me they were excited for it, I was expecting something.

Instead it was crickets. All those people who were so excited and told me they couldn't wait to get home to read it? That was the last I heard from them, unless it was to express outright incredulity that I expected them to read a work in progress. "It's not a work in progress!" I protested. "I'm just taking a little longer to post it!" Yeah, but it's not posted all in one go, so why should we bother to read it? We'll just wait until the end of January once it's finished. "Will I hear from you then? Will I get any indication at all that you liked it?" Eh, maybe. If we feel like it. But it'll only be one comment at the very end. If that.

This keeps happening. If it's not an already completed chaptered fic that I'm posting over time instead of immediately, then it's an idea that I had first talked about a while ago but took a couple months to write only to be met with silence once I start posting because everyone moved on and forgot about it. If it's not ready to go right now in all its fully finished glory and all 60k words posted immediately after I first spoke about it, then why am I talking about it at all? Why should I expect people to be waiting in anticipatory eagerness?

I remember when I posted my first Christmas event fic in 2020. It was already finished too when I started posting it. I'd been talking about it all year. People had seemed really excited for it when I first mentioned it, but then interest seemed to die out somewhere around August. By the time I started posting it in late November, I was fully convinced that no one was going to read it. I actually posted the first chapter and then immediately turned my computer off and didn't let myself turn it back on until the next day.

I was shocked by the number of readers I had. The number of comments. The sheer amount of people telling me they'd been waiting on tenterhooks for me to post that first chapter. And it kept coming. People were talking and theorizing and marking their conversations with spoiler bars for anyone who hadn't read the latest chapter. People timed when I posted the first few chapters so they could be waiting by their computer for when I dropped the next one. I was randomly gifted art. It was really an event, and I'll always be grateful for the support and community I was given for that month.

I never believed I'd ever be able to capture that kind of readership again, and I was right, and that's okay. But when I posted last year's Christmas event fic, for the first time since I started doing this in 2020, someone asked me why I bothered to space it out over a month instead of just posting the entire thing in one go on Christmas Day and how could I possibly expect them to be that invested for an entire month instead of just waiting until it was finished. I didn't know how to tell them that only three years prior, that's not only exactly what people did but they were excited for it to be like that.

If I'm not going to post my already completed fic in one lump sum right now, then the audience for it is nonexistent. And the audience won't grow once it's finished. It's like I have one opportunity to capture the readers and if they weren't willing to take the chance on the first chapter, then they'll never come back. It's disheartening, to say the least. Only six months ago, I was telling a friend that I thought this was my forever pairing, that I'd still be writing for this ship when I was old and grey. And now I'm going through my ideas folder, wondering what can be repurposed for other ships, because I increasingly feel not just that I'm shouting into a void but that the void is actively ignoring me.

I can't post wips because what if I abandon them or take too long to update? I can't post a chaptered fic in one go because that's too many words to expect people to read. But I can't space out posting completed chaptered fics either because everyone wants the instant gratification of the full fic right now. So what am I supposed to do?

I miss December 2020, but it's not the random art that I miss or the kudos or the number of comments. It was the community that built up around this fic. It was knowing that it was okay to space out the chapters because everyone was still right there with me, talking and theorizing and using their spoiler bars. It was my audience trusting me enough to come along with me for the ride instead of waiting for me to be done. I was so scared back then that the full year between me first talking about the idea and posting the first chapter had lost me my audience, scared that they'd all forgotten about me and moved on to other authors who were quicker to post, but I wish I'd known that three years later, it would only take four months for people to lose interest in an idea.

I'd have treated December 2020 like it was way more special than I did.

[thewolvesof1998]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley and @wikiangela

Bear with me...Since Halloween's over I think it's time for a change of picture, now its too early for anything Christmas so I thought I would change to my drawing of Rodeo Star Buck as I finally finished drawing it:

And since it's Wednesday, here's a little bit I've been working on today from Chapter three of Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em:

Eddie watches as Buck pulls away, not physically, he stays lying next to Eddie, but he pulls away mentally and it hurts more than it should. It leaves a sour taste in Eddie’s mouth and it makes him want to chase after Buck, kiss him until it washes it away. It can’t end like this, on this sour note with Buck further away from him than when he entered this hotel room.  Eddie rolls onto his side facing Buck, props himself up on his elbow and reaches out towards Buck before he can think better. His hand connects with Buck’s shoulder first before sliding down over his chest and down to sit low on his stomach. He’s so warm even with the T-shirt between them.  “What are you doing?” Buck asks “We have an hour before I have to leave, we could you know, if you want?” Buck raises a single eyebrow, “Fuck?” Eddie blushes, he doesn’t know why he’d said worse things last night, “Yeah, I suppose that’s a word for it.” “I wanna hear you say it.” Eddie meets Buck’s gaze, his blue eyes practically glowing in the early morning light, leans until his lips brush against Buck’s ear and whispers, “I want to fuck you.” He almost says 'I want you to fuck me' but he's not sure he's ready for that yet. Buck swallows, “Yeah, yeah we can do that.”  At the permission Eddie slides his hand down and under Buck’s shirt, he lightly brushes over the skin above the waistband of his boxers, teasing and teasing until Buck is squirming.  “I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” He asks already a little breathless, his bottom lip in what Eddie would call a pout.  Eddie chuckles, “Always so impatient.” “We only have an hour,” Buck says and it’s a harsh reminder of the little time they have left together, something Eddie doesn’t want to focus on right now.  He pulls the covers off of them before returning his hand to Buck’s waistband, he’s already straining against the thin black fabric. Eddie slips his hand into his boxers and wraps his hand around Buck’s dick. His breath hitches in Eddie’s ear and he turns his head and catches Buck’s lips in a chaste kiss, the first of the morning. His lips are dry and he tastes slightly of morning breath, it should not be as cute as Eddie is finding it.  Buck pulls back, “We should brush our-ah-teeth,” Buck says somewhat distractedly as Eddie moves his hand along Buck’s length as best he can within the confines of the shorts.  “I don’t care if you don’t,” Eddie says, watching the challenge register on Buck’s face.  “Come here then,” He says, lifts his hand, slides it into Eddie’s hair and reels him in until their lips are brushing each other but no further. Eddie closes the distance, pressing into Buck, lips moulding together. He sucks in Buck’s lower lip, biting down until he’s gasping into Eddie’s mouth. He takes advantage of it to slip his tongue into Buck’s mouth, tasting the stale morning breath, it’s kinda nasty and so goddamn intimate and Eddie moans into Buck’s mouth. He chases the taste, sucking on Buck’s tongue in a sloppy kiss, that dissolves as Buck's gasps increase in frequency as Eddie’s hand continues its ministrations on Buck’s dick.  “Eddie,” Buck whines Eddie nips at the edge of his jaw, “You want something Darlin’?” He feels Buck shiver at the term of endearment, “You said something about fucking me.”

Masterlist of posts about this fic- 18+

Read Chapter One and Two on ao3- 18+

Tagging: @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammy-souffle @smilingbuckley

[deadly-diminuendo]

WIP Wednesday

It is now technically Wednesday in my timezone and so WIP Wednesday it is! Sharing a nice chunk of my upcoming tailor Astarion x fem!reader Tav lovers-to-friends-to-lovers two-shot (maaayyybe a short extra epilogue as a chapter 3?) I included the intro on this post, so this one has been a long time coming! Snippet under the cut:

“Well, darling, let’s get you out of those clothes and into that dress, hm?” Again with the flirting. You almost let your imagination run away with you, but of course he gives you your privacy. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” You peel off each layer piece by piece, trying not to think about the fact that your former lover is on the other side of this curtain, trying not to remember the slow and sensual ways he used to strip you bare. But you do think about it. You do remember. You are just friends now, you remind yourself. No more. And no less, you hope. To be without him all this time has left a hollow in your heart. You want to fill its empty spaces with his presence. You want him to be part of your life again. So why does being here only make your heart ache harder? And why are you still so godsdamned nervous? You sigh and slip into your gown, admiring its a-line silhouette and its delightful shade of purple. Not quite the right fit, but that is why you are here after all. Astarion can surely fix that for you. He does work wonders with his hands. Hands that you now realize will have to tie up the back of your dress because there is no way you’ll be able to accomplish that by yourself. Hugging the loose garment tight against your chest, you call for help. “Astarion?” “Yes, dear? Don’t tell me you’ve managed to fall into peril right here in my dressing room. You do seem to have a knack for finding trouble wherever you go.” “Just… come in, please.” He pushes through the curtain and you are instantly and acutely aware of just how snug this little space is. “Ah, you need to be tied up, I see.” Of course he would choose to phrase it like that. Now you are thoroughly convinced he is thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment. He always did like to make you squirm. In more ways than one, the Astarion in your head adds. Ugh. You feel a fleeting sense of relief as you spin around, but the mirror betrays you, putting your mortified expression on full display while the look on his face remains a mystery to you. The chuckle you then hear at least helps you picture his smirk. He takes his time with you. Like he always did. Words he once said echo in your mind. A treat like you deserves to be savoured. Does it tempt him still to be so close to you? To sense your blood pumping through your veins? To see your neck so deliciously exposed? You ponder and you reminisce and you catch yourself tilting your head to one side. It seems the tempted one is you. You wonder if he noticed. He may be ‘tying you up’ as he so eloquently put it, but you feel more like he is undressing you. Like he is uncovering you bit by bit, inch by inch, piece by piece. Like he could reach into your mind and read your most intimate thoughts even though the tadpoles are long gone. “There we are,” you finally hear him say, snapping you back to reality. You pause in front of the mirror together and you wonder what it isn’t telling you. What he thinks when he looks upon you.

I will post a link here to the first chapter when it is up on AO3, and the complete text will also be posted here in full when the fic is done.

(P.S. I did also recently post a quick one-shot in the mean time!)

[dreamerofvalyria]

Beyond the Loch | Monster CoD AU | Chapter 4.

Summary: “With monsters now being used the world over to wage war, the military is desperate to encourage non-human citizens to join their ranks. A young kelpie, John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, is invited to join the infamous Task Force 141, the first task force in history to be headed up by a monster. Soon after joining, he encounters a black dog, an omen of death known only as Ghost. Determined to prove that not all black dogs are harbingers of disaster and misfortune, he decides to become Ghost’s field partner, becoming close to the spirit while everyone else flees from him terror. Only time can tell if he’ll come to regret it or not.”

Notes: Sorry for the delay with posting, but I had to rewrite this chapter several times since I wasn't getting the right vibes from how it was going. Half way through exams at the moment, but there's only another week until my mid-semester break from uni so hopefully I'll be able to get some more written then.

Pairing(s): Future Ghost/Soap. Other to be added.

Warnings: Unedited because I'm tired and can't stand looking at this chapter any longer ;w;

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 3.

Next: WIP

The morning air is frigid at the break of dawn, the grassy fields coated in a fine layer of fresh dew. The sunshine isn’t powerful enough to warm Ghost’s skin through his many layers of clothing, but it’s a pleasant enough view as he waits for the pilots to run through their final checks before take-off. The tip of the cigarette between his lips lights up with each gust of wind, blowing away the potent scent of smoke clinging to his clothes.  

Across the field, he can see his new sergeant quickly approaching, already geared up and carrying a large bag over his shoulder. When Soap realises he’s being watched, he offers a single wave, face lighting up with a broad grin. Ghost doesn’t return it, but he offers an acknowledging nod.  

When Soap reaches him, Ghost drops the remainder of his cigarette, stomping it out underfoot. “Prepped, sergeant?” he asks lazily, ears slowly swivelling around as he listens to the sounds of the base waking up for the day.  

“Aye, sir,” Soap nods, gripping at the straps of his vest, “ready to get ourselves a win, yeah?” 

He simply nods, watching as the pilots exit the plane and start waving them over. “Let’s get moving then.”  

Of course, Soap chooses to settle himself in the seat directly across from him. It isn’t too bothersome, even as the man starts excitedly rambling on about whatever seems to come into his head. Coming from someone else it would have quickly played on his nerves, but the friendly way the kelpie chatters to him is almost soothing.  

He wonders if it’s something to do with the ‘alluring’ attributes MacTavish’s kind are known to possess or if he’s genuinely interested in listening to the other monster talk. He doubted the later option, given his entire evening the previous night was spent researching kelpie mythology.  

There were numerous contradictory sources making it difficult to divorce fact from fiction. However, it seems as though most recorded legends and biological references he could access agreed that kelpies were similar in nature to sirens, being water spirits with an affinity for attracting men and women alike. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility for Soap to be (unknowingly or otherwise) drawing the canine’s attention.  

He had pointedly scrolled past the sections mentioning how physically attractive kelpies were.  

Soap doesn’t seem to notice his reluctance to engage in conversation, happy to hold up both ends of the conversation while Ghost simply sits quietly and listens. It helps to comfortably pass the time until they reach the drop point.  

The landing is rough thanks to some heavy snow, but they make it without too many issues.  

The scouting team that had been sent to the area before them had arrived back at the exfil point several hours ago, confirming that there appeared to be very little activity near the abandoned town their targets were holed up in. They were part of a yet unknown faction, wearing no obvious symbols to trace their allegiance back to.  

All that their intelligence officers and the scouting party had been able to determine was that they were guarding something. They moved in and out of the crumbling remains of an old building with perfect timing and efficiency, like a colony of ants. Clearly, they had an important purpose being here in the middle of the icy wilderness, but what it was remained to be seen.  

As they walk through the woods, Ghost is hyperaware of their every step, ears twitching with each broken branch, each flutter of leaves in the breeze and each animal, oblivious to the two predators moving through the trees. The snow was thick and difficult to wade through, but they were making good progress and would no doubt reach the enemy camp before dusk.  

He and Soap remained in their human forms – their true forms too large and attention grabbing to risk using – it made it easier to carry their supplies and weapons. They moved in silence for the most part, neither willing to risk their mission being compromised so early.  

When they finally arrive at their destination, they settle themselves in some shrubs just on the edge of the tree line to begin observing their opponents. It’s cold being pressed into the snowy ground, and Ghost briefly wishes he could be in his canine form, the thick fur perfect for such cold conditions. But he ignored his discomfort, setting up the scope on his rifle to start monitoring the movements of the other soldiers.  

Soap is laying a few feet from him, pressed against a large boulder and under the low hanging branches of a thick bush. He’s using his own pair of binoculars, slowly sweeping his gaze from one side of the town to the other.  

A small creek runs alongside the village, the perfect depth for his kelpie companion to utilise should things escalate, and there are numerous piles of rubble and ruined houses for them to use as cover. The men on guard duty continue their patrol route like clockwork, but clearly, they’re starting to get complacent, not paying as much attention to their surrounds as they should.  

Ghost continues to observe a further two rotations, ensuring there are no deviations, before he motions for Soap to move with him. There is a brief break between the previous rotation and the next one, so they need to move quickly if they hope to have the advantage of surprise on their side. “I clear the guards on the left, you take the right, sergeant,” he grunts, already beginning to slink off toward a nearby house.  

He pauses at the dilapidated building just long enough to watch as Soap takes a step into the small creek on the village’s right side. The man sinks into the water as though he’s made from the stuff, vanishing under the water without so much as a ripple across its surface. 

Eerie.  

Shaking off the shiver that runs down his spine, Ghost is quick to get to work, circling around the back of the house he’s using for cover. He spots the two men due to clear the area approaching and presses himself into a corner to wait. He slides a single blade from his vest, taking it into his hand with a light grip.  

The moment the men round the corner he pounces. He grabs the first one with one hand, his other phasing straight through fabric, skin, muscle and bone until he reaches the man’s heart. A single, firm yank and the organ is pulled cleanly from the human’s chest. The other man gasps, but before the thought to lift their weapon even passes through their mind, a knife is embedded deep into their trachea.  

Wrapping their hands around the wound does nothing to stop the blood rapidly spurting from their throat, and a moment later they hit the ground alongside their comrade. Ghost tosses the still-warm heart aside, already focused on finding a new position to attack from after retrieving his weapon.  

He silently steps through the walls of one of the houses, trekking through the many rooms until he’s positioned by the wall directly opposite where the next duo should be passing through. And just as he expected, it only takes a few minutes for him to spot the other soldiers through a frosted window. The darkness of the house keeps his form concealed from the men, right up until he leaps through the wall’s very matter and slams his large body into the enemy.  

The soldiers both flail, one of them losing their footing and dropping into the dirt. The blood slicked knife in Ghost’s hand easily slices through the tendons of the standing soldier’s neck as though it’s nothing more than butter.  

He shoves the man aside, ignoring the way they choke on their own life blood and approaches the other. They make a valiant attempt at scrambling back to their feet, twisting around with their weapon, only to be met with one of Ghost’s other blades, pulled from its holster and stabbed through their eye before they have the chance to so much as blink.  

Four down. Another two more on his side before it should be clear. With any luck, Soap will not be far behind they they’ll be able to rendezvous at the entrance to the main building. The base will be expecting the men on patrol to return soon, so their cover won’t last for long either way.  

Ghost moves back through the wall once more, returning his blades to their rightful position. He takes a moment to observe the area, ensuring there are no enemies unaccounted for, then starts heading for the next house. He has the time to cross through two more buildings before he spots the last two men he’s after.  

Listening intently, he’s able to pick up the soft crackling of one of the soldier’s radios. They’re trying to find the missing members of their patrol group. Time’s run out.  

He waits until the two men confirm their position and release their radios before attacking. These two are more alert, wary of the potential of a surprise attack, so his appearance doesn’t startle them. They move to lift their guns, but Ghost looses a knife, forcing one of them to try and dive to the side before they can discharge any bullets.  

The man still standing grapples with Ghost over the gun for a moment but makes the mistake of attempting to hold onto their rife and is inevitably unable to protect their vital organs from the blade driven into their stomach. As they hunch over with a pained wheeze, the monster grabs either side of their head, violently twisting until there’s a sickening crunch and the body in his grasp turns limp.  

The final opponent levels their weapon with Ghost’s skull, but something, an instinct perhaps, stops him from moving to defend himself. He sees something shift in his peripheral and understands.  

The man seems to think he’s going to win, about to pull the trigger- only for a pair of massive jaws to clamp down on his throat. A single twist of the head and the muscles are torn from where they should be connected to the man’s spine. He doesn’t splutter or gasp, the chasm where his windpipe should be far too large.  

“I had that, sergeant,” he says, watching as the soldier’s body drops unceremoniously to the ground.  

The grin Ghost is subjected to from his subordinate is downright horrific. Sharp teeth hanging out of an unnaturally elongated face. It looks like a sort of half-shifted state, unnatural but by no means any less dangerous. Just enough of a shift for the younger man to tear through a person without changing the rest of his physiology too far.  

A blink and he’s looking at a normal human again, save for the crimson staining the lower half of his face and clothes.  

“Ye were taking a while, thought ah’d give yeh a hand,” the kelpie shrugs, shouldering his own weapon. His hair is still dripping little drops of water from the tips of his mohawk, and his clothes are completely saturated, leaving a pool in the Scot's wake.  

Ghost rolls his eyes, “just don’t leave water everywhere, I’m not about to be sent to medical ‘cause I slipped in a damn puddle.” 

Soap snickers at that comment, moving to follow when Ghost starts toward the main base. “Aye, sir, wouldn’t want to ruin yer reputation like that,” he smirks, trotting along behind Ghost as they move to start observing their target.  

“Two men patrolling the top level,” Ghost breathes, staring down the line of his scope, “we’ll head around the back, the scouts reported another entrance. It’ll be guarded, but easier to access.” He lowers his weapon again, waiting for an affirmative from Soap to start moving around the building they’re using for cover.  

Their progress is quick as they snake through the long grass, unable to risk losing any more time. The enemy likely already knows something is afoot and will be searching for their missing members any moment.  

Taking out the small group of men is laughably easy with the two monsters working in tandem. The bodies lying on the ground are left where they fall, neither bother to hide the bodies, not when stealth will likely be unimportant in a few minutes anyway once they’ve breached the building. An odd low-level buzzing sound can be heard from inside and Ghost can’t help frowning with an annoyed growl under his breath.  

It’s entirely possible that these people are guarding a new type of weapon, which will make breaking inside unnecessarily dangerous if both he and Soap enter together. “Wait here until I’ve cleared the room,” he finally states, “I’ll phase in and radio you once I’m sure they’re not hiding anything.”  

Soap nods, tightening his grip on his weapon, “I’ll be ready and waiting to back you up.”  

With that, Ghost reaches out to the wall of the base, about to step through the wall. Only... his hand meets the cold stone and doesn’t pass through. He tries to push a little harder, but he can’t phase, even putting his entire strength into it. It shouldn’t take any effort what-so-ever to move through something as simple as a wall.  

Something is very, very wrong here.  

[phoenixtakaramono]

hi! any spoilers or sneaky peaks on the untold tale? i've been anxiously waiting for the new chapter 😫 your writing is on another level, i swear. i reread the first five chapters like more than 4 times each. i'm also loving your characterization of binghe!

Hullo, hullo, anon! 💞 It makes me heartened to hear that you like The Untold Tale! And I’m glad you’re liking my characterization of Bingge! I personally like my yanderes in fiction, and it’s always somewhat hilarious how wild and simp-y Luo Binghe’s POV and dialogue/ thoughts can be compared to Shen Yuan who’s just doing his best, haha.

We haven’t reached TUT’s position yet on my WIPs to Update list, so I haven’t been posting much sneak peeks of the upcoming ch6 yet since the majority of it is still in my rough note form (reminders of what I want to happen, dialogue that needs to happen, specific foreshadowing or worldbuilding, etc) and not the pretty final draft form y’all see on AO3. But I am very frank in my replies about what’ll happen in the AO3 Comments section so spoilers are abound there, haha. If y’all want a Spoiler Free experience, do not check out the Comments section. I answer questions and even gift spoilers (even copy and paste certain scenes that haven’t been published yet) to certain readers as thanks for leaving me long essay-long comments or just plain any comments that’ve made me happy.

There’s also a jokey April Fools version of what’ll be in ch6 that I’d tweeted out: TUT ch6 threadfic (April Fools edition). You can read it there if you have a Twitter account but essentially it’s scenes to expect—but butchered with American and British colloquialisms I have a certain writing process where I go all in on the fandom belonging to whichever WIP I’m working on updating, and at that time I wanted to show why it’d be a bad idea if I jumped back into writing TUT under this mindset and how it’d be jarring, haha. TUT has a certain writing style unique to C-novels and light novels in general, so I didn’t want to detract from that experience!

If you want a direct spoiler, this is what to expect from TUT ch6:

Shen Yuan’s shark tank meeting with the Jade Emperor’s Court (and SY finding out who is his celestial family in PIDW)

+

Luo Binghe’s POV, after his meeting with the celestial fortuneteller Shen Yuan (featuring a short cameo from Ning Yingying)

I do, admittedly, miss the SVSSS fandom a lot and really can’t want to return, my lovely dear readers, but I have to be a responsible multi-fandom writer rotating through my list of WIPs in an orderly fashion so it’s fair for everyone and wait for their turn and can only promise the patience will be worth it (to preserve the magic of it all)!! Thank you for your patience! I am heartened to hear there are people still reading and waiting for my return! I’ll share new sneak peeks as I’m live-writing it, once I’m ready to pivot back to TUT. ✌️ There also exist some other spoilery kernels but I’ll leave one more hint:

And after ch6, will be the Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky chapter where y’all will find out whose new poor cannon fodder’s identity he’s transmigrated into almost as a direct consequence of Shen Yuan’s transmigration as a celestial sharing the Protagonist’s Halo with Bingge in this new danmei genre he’s created (laughs). I’m excited because I get to finish up and debut the prettier illustration of ASTtS that’s been gathering dust in my computer files. If you’ve seen the WIP, yes, it’ll be the final version of this concept art I posted before as a sneak peek.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Looking For Feedback: Updated Prologue Chapter of Supernova Initiative

I mentioned I was looking for feedback for this chapter of Supernova Initiative, and after some feedback from my friends and mutuals, I did some editing and am going to post the new version here now!

Please give me feedback on this new version! It's still not the final one!! 💕

Important Context: The Prologue chapters take place around ten years before the main story of the WIP takes place. Those chapters serve to establish character backstory and showcase how the MCs became the characters they are in the main story - which takes place almost ten years later, where all the MCs have become famous outlaws. Each backstory chapter follows important events of the MCs past, and establishes who they used to be before. (However, only the Jack & Cassie backstory chapter is a part of the prologue, all the other backstory chapters are peppered throughout the book). In this backstory chapter Jack is 15-years-old, Cassie is 8-years-old and Deimos 16-years-old. (In the Main Story, ten years later, Jack is 25, Cassie 18, and Deimos 26)

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

We’ll Make It to the Other Side

CETHEA III - TEN YEARS AGO 

One could say Jack Tithus was having a bad day - in fact, he had been having ‘a bad day’ for the past couple of years. Good salaries were a far-gone illusion that Jack, and pretty much everyone else who called this broken moon a home, had long since forgotten. Right now, Jack took what he could get - and as things grew dire, started accepting gigs and odd jobs from lowlifes and mobsters of all kinds, having long since been familiar with their moon’s bustling, and cutthroat underworld. Yes, he was an errand boy for criminals, but at least it put food on his sister’s plate - and on especially lucky days, on his too.

Today was not gonna be either of those days, apparently. 

 “Hey, what the fuck?!” Jack counted and recounted the pitiful amount of units Zeke, the thug sitting leisurely on the swivel chair across the grimy desk, had tossed to him. He could not believe his eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not lunge across the desk and strangle the smug right out of the guy’s face here and now. He didn’t even get a quarter of the price they’d settled on the day before.

Jack hit the desk with his hand, rattling the cheap metal in his anger. “I did the job. It was so fucking dangerous, but I did it. Got the merchandise past those stupid guards at the Station. You said you’d pay me in full.”

The man across the desk burst into laughter. “And you were stupid enough to believe me?” Zeke mocked, lighting a neon-blue cigarette and leaning back on the chair “I just needed someone desperate and gullible enough to smuggle those parts to my clients. You fit the bill like a glove.”

Jack fumed, staring daggers at the man. “Oh yeah, Zeke? Well, I think maybe a broken nose would fit your face quite nicely.” His words came out with a bite to them and he closed his hands into fists “You sure talk a lot of game for someone who needs a teen to do your dirty work.”

At that, Zeke’s eyes turned dangerous. He took one slow, long drag from his glowing cigarette, letting the cyan smoke billow from his mouth lazily. At a motion from his head, two figures stepped out from the shadows behind Jack, seemingly out of nowhere. “If I were you,” Zeke began, coldly “I’d be grateful for the scraps and call it a day before you find some real trouble. You’re treadin’ on thin ice here, being this mouthy on Onyx Striker territory.”

The young man didn’t move, but he could see - from the corner of his eye - the guns glimmering on the duo’s holsters, ready to be drawn. The unspoken threat caused his bravado to falter - he swallowed nervously. Jack couldn’t afford the risk, he couldn’t leave Cassie all alone in the slums. Kids didn’t last long on their own around here, and when they did, it was at a cost. He couldn’t get himself killed for something stupid, as much as his pride told him to fight. 

Thanks to the Junction, Jack and his sister, Cassiopeia, hadn’t had the concept of a ‘home’ or ‘money in a long, long while. And that as the basic reality for most of the mismatched families that managed to make it in Cethea III - the third and most forsaken moon of the frozen planet, Ivion, below. A Junction mining colony, where poverty and crime run amok, while the government strips their supplies dry day by day. Pride was a luxury most had to abandon early on in this place.

Swallowing his anger and all the instincts that told him to stand his ground. One last time, he tried to bargain, but this time more controlled. His attention didn’t leave the two thugs lurking behind him. “This isn’t enough, you know I have a sister -”

Zeke cut him off. “Eh, cry me a river.” The man took another drag of glowing smoke, and Jack instinctively held his breath - out of anxiety and rage combined “Fuck if I care, that ain’t a problem of mine. The brat’s yours. Ain’t none of my business and I ain’t wasting even more money on you.” The man dismissed him with a scowl, waving to the door vaguely. “Now scram, kiddo, before I  change my mind and take back those units we already gave ya. I’m growing bored.”

Jack took in a sharp breath, instinctively clutching the small pouch of coins tighter, knowing they could be taken away at any moment. He glared at the thug for a moment longer, before relenting. “... Fine.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning around and pushing past the two men stationed behind him, storming out of the greasy and now smoke-filled office. “Stingy fucker.” Jack mumbled, mind racing faster than a hoverbike, a million thoughts a second. He didn’t look over his shoulder nor slow down his pace until the mob-owned building was far behind him. 

As he trudged through the dusty, bustling streets and alleyways, he scrambled to figure out what he was going to do next. 5 units wouldn’t even be enough to pay for half a meal in the greasiest, cheapest diners of this settlement. It wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Jack wanted to curl up and die at the thought of telling Cassie they were gonna have to skip dinner tonight. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair with a drawn-out groan, trying to come up with good enough excuses that wouldn’t sound like blatant lies to a genius 8-year-old. The best he could come up with were excuses he’d already used a million times before. Which didn’t help at all. 

Turning a corner around a quieter part of the slums, he made his way to the local junkyard. He knew the path with his eyes closed by now. Cassie loved the place - to her, it was like a playground where she could build as many bots as she wanted, and to him, it was a safe enough hiding spot for when he had to leave her unattended. He hoped to all the stars he knew that she had stayed put for the past seven hours like he told her to. She usually did.

Climbing over the broken chain fence wasn’t much of an effort, nor was finding a way to maneuver through the assortment of scrap metal and broken spaceship parts. After a minute or so of walking, he spotted a familiar head of blue-dyed hair barrelling toward him, as small arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

He let the resentment and anger he’d been feeling before wash away for a brief moment, thankful that his sister was here, and that she was okay. With an arm still wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close, they began to make their way out of the junkyard. 

Jack avoided the pressing subject of dinner, pushing it to the back of his head after giving up looking for solutions where there were none. He could feel his blood still boiling from his interaction with Zeke, and it took almost everything he had to hide the frustration and slip into his usual doting, brotherly role. Jack never wanted Cassie to be upset about things he should be able to solve. So, meanwhile, he asked something else, voice practicedly happy and calm, a complete opposite of the annoyance he was still feeling at the mob. “Did you have a good day, Cass?”

The girl, who was skipping along beside him, holding onto his arm, nodded. “I did, I think. Got bored after a while because you were so late, so I went for a walk in the city. Was pretty fun.”

Jack bit back the knee-jerk instinct to berate her for wandering into that settlement alone, “Yeah?” He hummed instead, in a kind tone, injecting optimism into his answer despite his every thought  “That’s good. A bit risky though, but sounds fun indeed! Did any of the other kids give you any trouble?” They stopped by the broken fence once more, and Jack gave her a boost to get over it, before following suit with ease. 

Once on the other side of the fence, standing once more at an alley, Cassie answered, holding his hand “Not really. Some older kids were being loud and causing trouble at a pub. Didn’t go near them though.”

Jack sighed in relief, “Good,” He nodded at her “You did the right thing, never get involved with those sorts, ever. They could hurt you.”

He wasn’t sure if Cassiopeia was listening, as she seemed pretty focused on following the cracks on the concrete, walking over them like someone tracing a line on the floor. Jack found it cute and didn’t bother repeating himself at the moment. 

They wandered aimlessly for a while, taking the ‘scenic route’ - if one could call anything on this heap of space rubble scenic - around the settlement. Jack was in no hurry to find somewhere to stop, as it would mean facing that subject, so he simply let Cassie ‘guide’ him around town. 

Eventually, after crossing a tight street, weaving their way through passersby, vehicles, and robots alike, the siblings reached one of the city’s few ‘plazas’. Calling the place ugly and unsightly would be an understatement, but at least it allowed for freer movement than the cramped alleyways behind him. 

However, a commotion drew their attention, and Jack skidded them to a halt. An armored Junction airship was landed in the middle of the square, surrounded by officers in their tight, grey uniforms. A man, who seemed in his mid-thirties, could be seen struggling against the soldiers, clutching some kind of bag in hand. He must’ve stolen something - and by the looks of it, that something was food. A quick punch from one of the Sentries ended the struggle, and as the man doubled over in pain, his arms were quickly restrained in cuffs, the bag swiftly removed from his grasp as the officers pushed him towards the vehicle.

Jack felt his heart tighten in sympathy but began walking in the opposite direction, gesturing for Cassiopeia to follow quietly. The last thing he wanted was for the Sentries to turn their attention towards them, once they were capturing that poor man. Jack knew how Junction Sentries functioned - and he knew you didn’t have to do anything wrong to be put under their aim. You just had to be born here - that was enough to earn their disdain.

Once the commotion was out of sight and the sounds of sirens gave way to the familiar buzz of the city’s center, with voices overlapping, cars flying past and a myriad of other familiar sounds filling their senses, Jack muttered bitterly, under his breath, to no one in particular “I can’t wait for us to get outta here. I hate this fucking place.”

Still holding onto his hand, Cassie seemed to have caught onto his words, despite all the background noise. “Mhm.” She hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to his arm. Before he could reply, she skipped a few stones on the ground as if she were playing hopscotch, each jump punctuating her words, “Got us some snacks though!”

Jack couldn’t believe his ears, blinking rapidly at the concept “You… you did?”

Cassie didn’t look over her shoulder, still skipping stones “Yep.” She answered simply, apparently unaware of the importance of what she just said “Saw some folks at this fancy eatery-place throwing out a box of tarts because they didn’t sell the week before. It’s a bit stale but tastes good enough.”

Jack could sob in relief right now - in fact, he almost did, barely holding onto his composure by a thread as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stopped walking for a moment, simply basking in this moment, watching her absentmindedly skipping around ahead of him after basically saving their night. After a second, he caught up to her once more, playfully ruffling her hair. 

She giggled, batting at his hand and combing down her now-tousled hair. Jack smiled down at her. “You’re the best, Cassie. Did you know that?”

Cassiopeia looked up at him with bright, mischievous eyes. “Mhm. I’m pretty amazing.” She beamed, proud of herself. 

Jack laughed, nodding “That’s the Cassie I know.”

As they continued walking down the empty, Cassiopeia always skipping and running ahead, Jack enjoyed the feeling of a weight lifted from his shoulders, for a split second, before the feeling returned tenfold once they walked into another alley. There were droplets of what looked like blood splattered on the concrete - and before he could tell Cassie to slow down and get away, she’d already turned the corner. That same corner. The one with the blood. 

His heart skipped a beat, “Cassie, wait!” He yelled as he ran after his sister, ready to yank her away from whatever was waiting for them in that alley, but stopped in his tracks once he turned the corner. There, hidden behind a metal trashcan and broken containers, was someone. Someone around his age, who looked a little more than worse for wear. 

“...Is he dead?” Came his sister’s blunt question, shaking him from his shocked ‘trance’. Jack watched the strange kid intently for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he tried to gauge whether or not the other was dead or alive. The boy didn’t seem quite completely conscious, but they didn’t look dead either. 

“I…” Jack stammered. “I, um, I’m not quite sure myself.” His answer was as unsure as he himself was right now. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to grab his sister and get them both away from this place and this random person right now. But another portion of him seemed to claim that it wouldn’t be right. His conscience, apparently. 

“Maybe we should just go away…” Jack said, tentatively trying to ignore his better judgment, tugging on Cassie to come back near him. The eight-year-old looked outraged and sad at the same time. 

“But he’s hurt!” She protested, pointing at the limp figure near the wall “He needs our help. We can’t just leave.” Then she added, with big, sad eyes, like a puppy “You always say we should be kind to others. That we should help those we can help,” By the looks of it, and the sound of her voice, she knew exactly what she was doing. And Jack hated that it was working.

“Ugh, don’t you turn my words against me,” He complained, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. She continued staring up at him, and there was a long moment of silence - Jack didn’t want to budge, and neither did Cassie. Eventually, her puppy-eyes won. Jack groaned. “Fine, fine. But if I get stabbed, I say it’s your fault” He says, half-heartedly poking at her, to which Cassie answered by sticking out her tongue at him and making a face. 

Moving toward the other teenager, Jack could see a bit more of their appearance - they weren’t human, that much was clear. Bright blue skin, long ears, dark blue hair. Peeking their mouth, which hung slightly agape, Jack could see a row of small fang-like teeth, as he closed the distance and knelt down beside the stranger. From what he could tell, this kid was a Zatrian - a species native to the tundra deserts of the planet below - who had somehow ended up battered and bruised on a grimy alleyway in Cethea III. Someone else was also having a very bad day, it seems. That level of irony wasn’t lost in him.

Jack, hesitantly, reached forward, giving the figure’s shoulder a gentle nudge. Deep down he didn’t know if he wanted the figure to stir or not - he knew it was a selfish notion, but years of ingrained survival instincts told him a situation like this was often a perfect setup made by a gang looking to mug whoever intended to play the good samaritan. It never did them any good to help someone they didn’t know. Still, a small, shy part of him, for reasons he could not quite comprehend, hoped that this kid - whoever they were - would respond. 

At his nudge, the other boy whined softly in discomfort - but didn’t seem to rouse.Jack frowned, growing unsettled with this alleyway more and more with every passing second, wishing for this to be done with as soon as possible. He tried again, with slightly more strength “Hey, can you hear me? Hello?” Jack asked as he shook the other’s shoulder a few times. It seemed that the figure would remain unresponsive, but when Jack was about to give up, the boy finally stirred, eyes blinking open with a groan of pain. 

Grey eyes, first glazed over with pain and confusion, then filled with a look of sheer dread and panicked rage that Jack knew all too well, met his. Before he respond or do anything really, the boy stumbled backward with a sudden jerk, which caused him to hit his head on the wall behind him. “G-Get back!”

The alien yelled, followed by a cat-like hiss that took Jack off-guard. He pushed himself further and further into the corner between the trash can and the wall, curling into himself as tightly as he could, pressed against it, The figures’ eyes flitted between Jack, who was still kneeling near him, and Cassie, who was standing a few feet away, with her brows furrowed in a puzzled look. 

Unsure of what to do, Jack withdrew his hand, instead raising it in a placating gesture. “Hey, hey, hey... Take it easy” He said, in a clear voice, backing a feel inches away himself - fearing that the kid may lash out. Those claws, a detail of the alien’s hand that Jack had only just noticed, looked sharp. “We’re not here to hurt you.” 

Apparently the gesture was anything but calming, as when he backed away and raised his hands slowly, the boy cringed way with a violent flinch, hugging himself and pointedly looking away for a moment. As if expecting to be hit, Jack realized. That reaction alone said more than words ever could, and despite himself, Jack felt his walled up heart thaw a little bit.

Finally, after a drawn-out while that felt like an eternity, the alien boy realized nothing was going to happen, and looked up once more. There was a sharp look of distrust and paranoia in his eyes, one that Jack knew all too well - he often saw that same look reflected in the mirror. Much to both of their surprise, the boy spoke. 

 “...What do you want with me?” His voice was weak and fearful, carrying a sharp accent, though it seemed he tried to inject as much venom into the words as he could “ His face scrunched up into what was supposed to be a menacing look, but he only looked more anxious. 

Jack answered, using the same calming voice as he used when Cassie had nightmares. It usually worked, and though he wasn’t quite sure of why he was even doing any of this “We want to help.” He gestured to himself and then to his sister, trying to muster a reassuring smile but still eyeing the boy anxiously, as if waiting for something to go wrong and for trouble to begin. Cassie waved at the other boy, who seemed even more confused, before Jack added, trying to provide some much needed explanations “Look, we kinda…stumbled into you - not literally, but y’know what I mean - and you looked like you needed help. You seem pretty hurt…”

At that, Jack’s words trailed off. He saw a deep, crimson stain pouring from the torn up sleeve of the boy’s shoulder, and noticed how the other nursed that arm protectively, holding it to his chest, face scrunched up in a grimace of pain. He was no expert, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was a stab or a gunshot wound, but thankfully by the looks of it, whatever had caused it had only grazed the arm. 

Better than the alternative, Jack guessed. Though it must still hurt like hell.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but the other boy was faster, cutting him off as he spoke instead. “Ha. As if someone like you would want to help someone like me.” His breathing was labored, pained, but even then, Jack could feel the resentment and sarcasm in his voice “I know… I know your kind. It’s all just a big game. And I won’t go back to that place -” The boy’s voice cracked, but he steeled himself with a growling, bitter chuckle  “You can’t trick me like they did. I won’t fall for it.”

Jack tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, cocking an eyebrow in confusion, trying to make sense of what the other meant. “Who said there was any trick? Why would there be any?” He asked, genuinely, glancing over his shoulder slightly to check on Cassie. She gave him a shrug, just as lost as he was, “We have no clue who you are, my guy - we only just happened to find you. By accident. And you look like you need help so someone” Jack nodded towards Cassie “convinced me to come check on you. And that bleeding arm of yours only confirms that yes, you do need help. So let us help.”

Jack wasn’t quite certain if he wanted to help this guy they’ve just met. It could very well end poorly. Very poorly and very bloodily. But he already started this, so he might as well commit to the whole thing now. 

Meanwhile, the boy seemed torn between giving into relief or succumbing to fight-or-flight instincts and trying to dart away. Jack was certain that, if it wasn’t for the exhaustion the other must be feeling, that kid would have run away the second he woke him up. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, looking at Jack suspiciously. “Leave. Me. Alone.” The boy hissed, punctuating every word in that sentence, a jaded, tired look in his eyes. 

Jack facepalmed slightly for a moment, dragging his hands down his face in frustration, before taking a deep breath and collecting all the patience he didn’t have to continue this conversation. This dead-end conversation. In a shady alleyway. With someone he did not know. 

“Look, let me be open with you real quick: I don’t want to be here, and she doesn’t want to be here, in this exact situation and place, either. So I think if we could move the topic forward a bit that would be great.” He said, gesturing vaguely to the other in hopes that he would develop the conversation a bit more. When the kid remained seethingly silent, waiting for an answer Jack sighed, “Okay, then.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. After a second more of silence, his patience wavered and Jack stood up, dusting off his clothes and turning to Cassiopeia with a shrug. “Eh, fuck it. I can’t deal with this right now.” Jack gestures for her to follow him, but his sister won’t budge. He groans in frustration and stops in his tracks. “We tried, Cassie. Kid’s hopeless, and if he’s keen on being a sitting duck to a mugger, let him. This alley looks wrong in all the worst ways.”

He tried to reason with her, hand outstretched waiting for her to grasp it. For a moment, it looked like his sister would agree, before instead of taking his hand she sauntered over to the blue-skinned alien still curled up near the wall. Jack stared at her silently, a mix of tired frustration with deadpan disbelief as she crouched down close to the other kid. “You’re from Ivion, right? The planet this moon orbits?” She asked, innocently, head tilted to the side. Surprised, Jack could hear it in her voice that she was going somewhere with this, so he just watched, ready to yank her away in a second if he sensed any danger. The alien boy didn’t move for a moment, curled up like a statue with big, fearful eyes, before silently nodding. Cassie continued, “If so. Um. How did you end up…?” 

He saw Cassie gesture vaguely to their bleak surroundings and then to the boy himself, the absurdity of their situation painting a clear enough picture on its own. Much to Jack’s surprise, who half-expected the other kid to just shut down or worse, straight up push her away, he saw Deimos, slowly, ever so slowly, uncurl himself from where he was pressing up against the wall. The boy fiddled with what looked like a colorful string bracelet for a moment, pensive, but still seemed tense like a string ready to snap. His eyes seemed distant, confused and terrified at the same time, and Jack instantly knew that, whatever the answer was, it wasn’t going to be anything good. And he briefly wondered if he should let Cassie stick around to hear it. 

“Bad people. Raiders.” There was a quiver to his chin, and his words are less coherent, sentences cutting off sharply, as he painfully struggled to put his thoughts into words “There was so much blood. So much. Raiders said they would sell me.” Deimos started to hyperventilate, trying to catch his breath as he hugged himself tightly “... I don’t remember… I don’t remember how I escaped. I- I don’t know anymore -”

The other kid’s words had a slightly…broken edge to them - a sound that born out of desperation, panic, rage and all things in between. He noticed that Cassie seemed slightly concerned - and anxious, if the way she tugged on the strings of her backpack was any indication. Startling even himself, Jack felt his legs move of their own volition, gently pushing past from where he was standing next to his sister until he was once more kneeling at arms-reach of the kid. 

The boy seemed tired - too tired to keep arguing, too tired for anything anymore, like he was giving up, looking up at him as if he simply didn’t care what happened next anymore. Jack didn’t need a full explanation to get the picture, to understand what the boy was feeling. He felt it himself almost daily. 

Without saying a word, Jack pulled the other boy into a hug, for reasons he could not comprehend - and it seems that was an action that surprised both of them. The alien stilled, frozen like a board for a moment, too shocked to move. Meanwhile, Jack himself was confused out of his mind - he’d never trusted people like this. Usually, he would have suspected any story like that was a lie. But somehow, this one felt different. Likely it was just his ‘big brother instincts’ taking over, or maybe, and that thought surprised him even more, he hoped this day could get a little bit… ‘less bad’. 

The concept was almost laughable, given all of their circumstances

He thought for a second that the alien boy would surely push him away, but then, he felt two skinny, long arms wrap around him, hesitantly but surely.

The boy melted into his hug, and Jack realized that was probably the first kind physical contact this guy had felt in a long, long while. Tears wet his shirt, and Jack was unsure of what to do, but he let the boy hold onto him for as long as he needed. After a few minutes, Jack let go and put his hand on the other’s shoulder “I’m sorry for what happened to you. Seriously.” He turned to look at Cassie, who was looking at them with a mix of confusion and awe. She gave him a thumbs up, and Jack chuckled. “So, this is gonna sound really weird, but what do you say we stick together?” He stretched out a hand, waiting for Deimos’ answer. 

The alien gave him a puzzled look. 

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head sideways, trying to analyze him. 

Jack shrugged. “Well, I dunno” He sat cross-legged on the floor, tired of crouching down “You’re all beaten up, we’re starving, and there’s no one to look out for kids like us. Maybe we could… stick around each other and see what happens? Look out for each other maybe, just maybe…”

He could not believe the worlds coming out of his mouth. Either this day had driven him mad or he was really looking for trouble. Jack almost cringed, but even have the energy to care anymore, he just waited for an answer. 

As the alien boy seemed to mull over the offer in his mind as well, Cassie piped up, slinging her arms around Jack’s shoulders a tad too suddenly. “...We got food!” She said, like someone tempting a cat, pointing to her threadbare, butterfly backpack. Somewhere, in his mind, Jack was digging himself a grave and giving up on life. He regretted even saying anything. He regretted all his life choices including getting up from bed today. Nice going, Cass. Now we’re definitely getting mugged. 

Jack immediately craned his head to protest Cassie’s offer, a million rebukes at the tip of his tongue - that was their food. Her food. Food they needed so badly and couldn’t afford to share it with someone else they’d just barely met… Before he could even say anything, however, the words died in his throat - he saw the hopeful glint in the other boy’s eyes at the prospect of dinner. He recognized that same, desperate hoping without hope, look - he knew how much a ‘no’ hurt in that situation, when one’s far beyond caring for pride and only wants to survive. It killed a part of him he could never get back, everytime something like that happened to him.

Cassie looked at him expectantly, and he hated how, instead of standing his ground and saying ‘no’, he relented with a sigh. “Alright, alright” He said to her, playfully sharply. “It’s fine. You win this round.” His voice was fondly resigned. 

She gave a joyful, enthusiastic hurray, at that. To Jack, that almost made up to the fact that they were going to have to share their already limited dinner with another kid they barely knew. Just almost. 

As Cassie sat down beside him, swinging her backpack from her shoulders and unceremoniously plopping it down on the dusty ground, Jack spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose again and willing himself to have patience. “So, you heard her. We’ve got… ‘dinner’.” He said that word with air quotes to emphasize his point “Are you going to join us or is The Corner too comfy to move away from?”

He looked at the other boy, waiting, impatiently, for an answer. 

A bit too slowly for his liking, the alien slowly peeled himself from where he was basically cosplaying as a wallpaper, and sat down closer to them, mirroring their crossed legged positions. “...Yes. Let’s.” He said in a small voice, plainly. The kid’s mouth seemed to water at the simple thought of food, and Jack couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the fellow. 

While that transpired, Cassie had already opened her backpack, placing a dented and slightly stained cardboard box in front of the three of them, opening it quickly. “I think its cheese tarts” His sister said bluntly “I think. It tasted a bit funny.”

Jack knew that was Cassie’s attempt to make some small talk but cringed inwardly just the same at the implications. He hoped their new ‘friend’ -  who was still essentially a stranger whose name they didn’t even know - didn’t mind. 

There were a few of those pocket tarts in the box, a jumbled assortment. They looked like they would have been tasty, fresh off the frier - though now they looked like they’d be tough to chew on. Luckily though, there seemed to be enough to divide it between the three of them equally - something Jack considered a rare treat, given that someone else was eating with them. He couldn’t help but think about how the snack might’ve lasted longer if it was just the two of them, but quickly suppressed the thought.

Without wasting a second, the trio got to eating the now-cold, fried morsels. At a first bite, Jack immediately understood what Cassie had meant by ‘it tasted funny’. The pastry was chewy, but not in a good way. In an insistent, sticky way that was hard to swallow. It seemed to have absorbed some of the plastified cardboard taste, and that… didn’t make it tastier, to put it shortly. Still, it was better than nothing. Much better than nothing. 

And it seemed that their new alien ‘friend’ agreed, given how he absolutely devoured all three of his tarts in record breaking speed. If Jack hadn’t been feeling just as hungry, he might’ve even have been a bit astonished. As it stood, Jack didn’t think twice about it. 

Sooner than he would’ve liked, the cardboard box was empty, with nothing but a few scattered crumbs, crumpled napkins and oil stains littering it. His stomach seemed to still need more, even though there were none. At this point, Jack was just grateful that this day hadn’t gone from a ‘bad day’ to the ‘worst day’. Small wins, but still wins.

Wiping off his fingers on one of the napkins, and then straightening his clothes, Jack stood up, stretching himself a little bit. 

The weight of this entire day - which was, quite frankly an ordeal after the other - was catching up to him, and quick.

After adjusting Cassie’s backpack on her back and making sure to dust off her clothes properly, he turned to the alien boy once more. “So.” He started, a bit awkwardly, trying to come up with the words he needed “We had this… moment. Ate together and all that. I think an introduction’s in order: I’m Jack, and she” He gestures at his sister, who was admittedly giddy for some reason “Is Cassiopeia, my sister. I call her Cassie for short. What’s your name?”

He gave the boy his best friendly smile, and hoped that after all that the guy would finally start to open up a little and help break the awkward ice. If he didn’t, Jack was almost 70% sure he would implode out of frustration right then and there. 

Luckily, the other kid, who was still nursing the wound on his arm, spoke up after a few seconds “...Deimos.” He answered, a bit too under his breath, before quickly adding “My name, is Deimos Soll. My full name.” 

He seemed shy - looking torn between his fight-or-flight reflexes and giving two strangers a chance. Jack could understand how overwhelming that felt - after all, he was taking a similar gamble by helping him.

Still, ignoring his best judgement entirely, he reached out a hand to Deimos, hoping to help him get to his feet so they could get out of this filthy alley once and for all. 

Swiftly and without a second thought, Deimos grasped his hand, latching onto it like a lifeline. Somehow, despite this being a random kid he just met, Jack felt as if a silent pact, was being made. He didn’t know why and it was one hell of a strange feeling, but he preferred it over the alternatives. Though it is far too early to even consider calling… whatever this strange ‘truce’ is a friendship, Jack definitely was glad that this interaction ended up amicably. 

Jack helped Deimos up, hauling him up from the floor with considerable effort. As he helped the other maneuver into standing, Jack realized just how much taller Deimos was from him - he’d met few people who’d reached that height before coming of age. Supporting him to the best of his abilityuntil he was sure the other had gained his footing, Jack said, “Alright, since we’re apparently gonna do this, we need to get that wound” He gestures to Deimos’ free arm, the one who isn’t wrapped around his shoulders, “Fixed up. I think given our recent ‘feast’ you can tell we don’t have the funds for that” Jack adjusted his grip on the taller teen, as Deimos’ legs faltered slightly. “We can shoplift some supplies, but that would imply risking getting caught by those prim and proper arseholes in armor and that we’ll need to be lucky enough to do everything right. Or…” Jack muttered a swear word under his breath “I can cash in a favor. But it isn’t gonna be easy. I know a retired mobster lady who owns a tattoo shop and has some - and I mean some - first aid knowledge, but she always asks something in return.”

Deimos looked at him, befuddled. “Why are you helping me like this?” He asks, this time not judgemental, but genuinely curious, “I don’t think I quite understand.”

Jack stammered to find an answer. He didn’t quite understand what or why he was doing this either. “Well…” He trailed off for a moment, “I’m not quite sure. You were hurt, my sister convinced me to help you. We had a snack together. Kinda feels weird to not help you now, I guess. Plus, its the right thing and all that. I hope.”

The young alien seemed intrigued, but was satisfied with this answer for now, it seems. Or simply just didn’t have the energy to ask any more questions, which wouldn’t be surprising given his state.

With his free hand, Jack motioned for Cassie to follow. 

Once she saw that Jack trusted the other boy, for some reason, Cassie came running towards them, tugging on Deimos’ shirt and almost making him lose his balance. She had a bright, kid-like smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Cassie. Jack told you already, I saw, it’s nice to meet another kid! Why do you look blue? Are you made of ice? I heard that Ivion is made of ice, are you too? I like the winter, winter’s nice…” Her endless string of questions continued into almost unintelligible rambles. Deimos looked at Jack as if asking for emergency help in handling whatever that was, Jack chuckled, starting to walk slowly so that the other could keep up with him. “Get used to it, haha,” He said playfully “There is oh, so much more where that came from.”

Deimos keened slightly “Why am I already reconsidering our partnership?” He said, this time with a mischievous smirk. Jack knew they were on the same page, and chuckling, continued walking them both out of the alley, as Cassie rambled on ahead of them about her knowledge of planets, stars, and constellations.

Her ramble paused for a moment, as she heard their little conspiratory quip. She turned around, little arms crossed over her chest - she wanted to look angry, but given her entire style and age, she just looked more adorable. “Hey!” She protested in a playfully berating tone, imitating authority “I heard that, mister alien-guy. Just because, I’m gonna talk even more now!” She chuckled after her mock ‘scolding’ and went back to skipping stones and rambling even faster about an assortment of different and increasingly unhinged topics, just out of too much spite and sass on the same small package. 

Keeping a close eye on Cassiopeia ahead of them, Jack began maneuvering Deimos down the alley. Well, all things considered, this bad day actually ended better than most of his usual days. They ate something serviceable, met someone new who did not want to kill him, and got to unwind a bit. Overall, not quite such an awful day as it had started out. From there, they walked to Madam Cyrax’s tattoo parlor, where, with luck and a bit of smooth talking, they could get that wound fixed up half-nicely. 

Though he knew that this might just be yet another debt to pay in the future, he found it worth it to help this unusual ‘friend’ they met. 

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WIP Snip

thank you so much @ghostofnoir for tagging me to drop a WIP snip!! a couple of weeks ago i'd've probably said i don't have a WIP on the go, but i'm slooowly starting to accept that i'm probably going to attempt to finish another chaptered fic 😭 atm i'm in the stage of refusing to write anything at all bc i want to "feel ready" (haha) but as it happens i do already have 30k of it sitting there waiting to be whipped (WIP'd) into shape the plot tl;dr: harry sneaks into a nightclub under polyjuice and accidentally makes friends with the slytherins, who don't know who he is. this is a lil chunk from (probably) chapter 4 – a bit from chapter 2 was previously posted here!

“Draco,” he says, “come and dance with me.”

Malfoy glances at Nott, who frowns at Harry. Harry knows he should feel bad for interrupting them, but the alcohol and Polyjuice in his system make him feel like himself again, like he can be impulsive, like he should be—so he keeps his gaze on Malfoy, keeps his hand extended in invitation.

“Oh, all right,” Malfoy says, shrugging—but Harry is watching him so closely that he doesn’t miss the way Malfoy looks at him through his eyelashes with a small, pleased smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

The shots, the anonymity, the thrill of being in Phoenix—it all bolsters Harry, makes him feel confident, makes him feel free. Once they’re in the middle of the crowd, music thumping around them, through them, Harry pulls Malfoy close and murmurs in his ear that he’s sexy when he dances.

Malfoy snorts and tosses his head. “I’d return the compliment, but I have no idea what you actually look like.”

Harry hesitates. The powerful feeling inside him falters. “Sorry,” he says—almost a question.

Malfoy shrugs. “I don’t care what you look like, as it happens,” he says, though his voice is a bit too casual. “You have a hot personality.”

Harry covers the swooping in his stomach with a laugh. “A hot personality?”

“That’s what I said. Now, come on. Dance with me, if you think I’m so sexy.”

Harry dances with him. There’s no hesitation when they touch each other now—just lingering eye contact, hands finding shoulders, waist, hips. Harry presses closer automatically. Malfoy tips his head back and moves to the music.

atm this is about the only bit that doesn't have more square brackets than actual words – much more disjointed than the beautiful snip you posted earlier, @ghostofnoir!!! i hope the editing process is being kinder to you this week!!! ❤️

[bobwess]

How about an Only Human Chapter 9 WIP Excerpt...

Sorry. Here you are.

This time the sight of hell sent a shiver up his spine. 

Dean frowned, looking around the once familiar torture chamber. He took a second to appreciate the table again. Fully adjustable, you can have them at any angle. It’s the little things. 

“You’re different.” 

Dean turned, unsurprised to find Amara standing there. 

She tilted her head. “More… human.” 

“Is that a good thing, or a bad?”

“It is nothing.” She said simply. “I am curious though.”

“Trouble with a witch.” He said simply. 

“You are still traveling with the angel.” 

“And?”

She didn’t respond. “What is it about this place that draws you to it?”

Dean frowned, feeling his breath catch in his throat for just a second. “It’s familiar.” 

“You were here for a long time?” 

“Longer than on earth.” Dean said. “It was my home…”

“You like it here.”

“No.” Dean said with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s just familiar.” 

Amara studied him for a moment. “You are fascinating.” 

“I know.” Dean answered. He frowned, looking her over. “You look different too.” 

“I’m learning.” 

“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” 

Amara turned, looking down at a long narrow table against the back wall. She ghosted her fingers over the tools thoughtfully before looking up at him again. “So much suffering.” 

“Yeah that life’s in the rear-view for me.” Dean said, pointedly ignoring Amara’s revelation last time that he was the one who brought them here. 

“Not hell.” Amara explained. “On earth. My brother’s creations are howling, groping in the night, entirely forsaken. So they turn on each other. Even a righteous man tears a knife into flesh after thirty years of resolve he never would.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

“It is disgusting.”

“Plenty of worlds out in the universe. Maybe you go give them a visit and leave ours out of it.” 

“None of them matter.” 

He looked at her. “Why’s that?”

“Do you know what I miss?” It wasn’t her voice.

Dean blinked, the oppressive walls of hell snapping away to a cold landscape amidst the trees. He moved back just slightly, giving him just enough space to look at Cas. He suppressed a shiver but he kept his voice even. “What?”

“Duff’s.” 

“Yeah?”       

Dean looked up. The sun was just cresting the peaks of newly discovered mountains to their left, casting long shadows over the small clearing they had settled into during the night. The meager fire in front of them had nearly extinguished, the last sticks they managed to pry free in the darkness almost used up. 

He shook off the lingering unease from his latest… vision? 

Cas hummed a quiet agreement. “I had a very good evening before the accident.” 

“Sap.” Dean ribbed, shoving Cas slightly under crinkling mylar. 

“I didn’t enjoy this part of it.” Cas said, annoyed. 

“Except this time you have the benefit of my wit and commentary.” 

Cas frowned for a moment, considering. “You’re not unconscious and we have this blanket. I suppose we are better off at the moment.” 

“Yeah.” Dean groaned. “Except I don’t actually think we’re about to be found and rescued by anyone.” Dean said, slumping back slightly against the tree. “And I don’t think either of us is getting our mojo back very soon.” 

Cas lowered his head in agreement. “And we do not have a roof over our heads.” 

“And we have no idea where we are.” Dean sighed. “Might as well see what we can see.” He looked over at Cas. “Ready?”

“No.” 

“Too bad.” Dean shrugged free of the emergency blanket, letting a rush of frigid air settle over them. He closed his eyes, breathing through a fresh sear of electricity through his nerves. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Dean pulled back his jacket, looking at his shoulder. “It’s better… I can move it now without almost passing out. Still got a ways to go.” He sighed. 

“What is our plan?”

“Step 1: you don’t die.” 

“Step 2?”

“Working on that.” Dean said passively. Dean pushed himself up and the rest of the way out of the blanket, pulling his coat closer to him and giving a shiver. Behind him Cas pulled the mylar back before getting to his feet and following Dean without letting it go.