#i had fun going back through old fics and rereading

[ace-oreos]

💬💬

Hi friend! I was super excited to see that you dropped by. I'm interpreting two emojis to mean two separate quotes :D and I use quote liberally here, because neither of these are going to be short

The first one is from an old fic featuring Fordo being a good vod. I brought Vortex into this snippet because... when do I not look for an excuse to drag Vortex into a fic?

For all that they’re soldiers, the near-constant disquiet lurking in Vortex’s eyes is a stark reminder that there are some obstacles even Jango Fett couldn’t overcome.

Fordo prefers to have a target in front of him, himself - an enemy that has the decency to identify itself from the start. He’s never grappled with things that can’t be seen when he can avoid it; those are Jedi matters, the likes of which Fordo doesn’t have any problem ignoring so long as it’s not an imminent threat.

He doesn’t bother asking Vortex if he’s okay. In short, he’s not. His brother is fearless and cunning and strong-willed - but he’s vulnerable, too. He’s on guard far too often for one to wonder if there isn’t a reason for it.

You don’t have to protect yourself from me, Fordo wants to say. But the invitation to lower those carefully crafted shields will only drive Vortex away. It’s a complexity Fordo doesn’t fancy he’ll ever unravel, so he navigates the situation as best he can.

“I have some stuff to take care of if you want to join me,” he says. “Mission reports and the like. Nothing exciting, but I’d welcome the company.”

The answer in Vortex’s eyes is plain. The hesitation isn’t far behind. It’s almost painful, to see how clearly his brother longs to give in, only to be held back by some inhibition that isn’t entirely of his own making.

And the second is some good old-fashioned sibling stupidity courtesy of some Alpha ARCs:

“Figures that we get sent to this sort of osik’la planet,” Vortex grumbles, shaking mud from his boots with a look of disgust.

Fordo, for his part, doesn’t seem bothered. “What exactly were you expecting when you heard jungle, ner vod?”

Alpha keeps a determinedly straight face when Vortex rounds on Fordo. Some things never change, he thinks, both exasperated and amused. Vortex could only be described as volatile  even on the best of days.

“In his defense, this place isn’t all that great,” Maze remarks, ever the voice of reason.

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Alpha chips in when Fordo looks disbelieving. “He’s been cooped up at HQ for too long. Worried he’ll ruin his hairstyle or some osik.”

He dodges the incoming clod of mud with ease. Maze can play at being the level-headed one, but old habits die hard and Alpha distinctly remembers ducking a good number of makeshift projectiles that only seemed to appear when Jango’s back was turned. 

“We’ll make it up to you,” Vortex adds. “Do you prefer your nails match your armor?” His head tilts as he considers Maze, his customary brooding expression replaced with a smirk. “Then again, I’m not sure blue’s your color.” 

It’s such a departure from his usual grave intensity that the conversation stumbles to a halt. Fordo is the first to laugh; Maze levels him with a disapproving, thin-lipped stare. Vortex, entirely unrepentant, favors Alpha with a covert smile that’s gone as soon as Maze starts to turn his head.

[taexoxosgf]

DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

​​"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.”

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

[vinelark]

I've been going through ur fic recs and after binging through "A Meditation On Railroading" and "The Long Way Home", I'm now obsessed with Jason and Tim. Something about hating each other but not really, all the bad blood and hurt and still becoming brothers bc how couldn't they

I wanted to ask if you know any other fics that are about them?

Thanks! :)

i had to make a real effort to keep this (relatively) short or it would just be hundreds of fics long. here is a very incomplete list of old favs and recent reads! i've definitely rec'd some of them already, but i think others are new to my fic rec tag.   you already mentioned a meditation on railroading and the long way home; i’m linking them again here for anyone else who wants them, because they are two of my favs and would kick off this list if you hadn’t already read them.   robin!jason era   Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding one of the most impressive things a story can do, imo, is pull off a really believable kid/teen pov—this does it twice, for both tim and jason, and it’s one of my fav rereads.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by @bonesbuckleup i’ll always be reccing this one; it’s one of my favorite slow-burn hurt/comfort fics, and the tim & jason relationship in this context is very sweet + compelling as they deal with some rough edges unique to this story.

1-800-ROBIN by spqr jason volunteers for a mental health hotline, and this leads to bonding with tim. this has some incredibly tender moments and a great robin!jason pov.   red hood!jason era

cake is a four letter word by @sonosvegliato jason just wants to make a loaf of bread. then tim shows up. i love when a writer nails tim in peak Annoying Mode (❤️).

geolocation by @envysparkler i love a good forced-to-work-together oneshot, and this one gets bonus points for the sheer amount of “actions speak louder than words” going on with every single thing jason does.

Tim in a Bottle by @coyote-nebula (wip) angst and humor galore; tim and jason and their giant pile of unresolved issues all get locked in a walk-in freezer together. need i go on?

the trolley problem by @silk-scarlet-ribbons this is—i say with full appreciation—an absolute pangfest. jason is taken by an enemy, and that enemy has kidnapped a "random civilian" (you guessed it: tim) for leverage to get jason to do what they want. (also check out requiem for the forsaken by the same author, which is the fic that finally got my best friend to start caring about robins with me.)

Short-Term Memory Loss (Leads to Long-Term Sibling) by Vamillepudding a bittersweet + hopeful story in which red hood!jason gets temporarily whammed back to robin!jason, and bonds with tim.

Say Uncle by @megaerakles an incredibly fun twist on tim’s fake uncle with layers upon layers of identity shenanigans.

of crime lords and literature by @adelfie a wonderfully angsty, plotty fic in which tim ends up in danger as himself, and—after a very rocky start—jason is somehow the one who rescues him.

unequipped by Valkirin there’s a lot of jason saving tim on this list, and this story is a delightful reversal of that trope. red hood’s in trouble, and tim shows up to bail him out.

For All The Just Alike Birds by @sunflowersandink tim breaks his arm, and jason makes it his problem. featuring some excellent begrudgingly worried jason pov!

alternate universe

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (wip) i adore this jason-joins-the-family late AU; the central robin!tim & sort-of-civilian!jason dynamic is so compelling. marked as a wip, but currently leaves off in a very satisfying place!

[littlespoonevan]

Princess Diaries 2 au!

not me already cheating askdjfhsa so i actually have the first chapter of this fic written but i never got any further than that so i never posted it. but!!! that means you are in luck bc i can offer you 3.5k almost immediately lmao

i had a lot of fun rereading this though so hopefully this might give me some motivation to keep going with it 🤞✨

-

“You want to do what?”

Buck’s parents regard him with identical disdainful looks. It’d almost be intimidating if he wasn’t on the receiving end of looks like that from both of them at least once a day.

“Evan, this doesn’t concern you,” his mother sighs.

“Like hell it doesn’t!” he exclaims, looking wildly between his parents and his sister. “Aren’t you forgetting what happened the last time you tried to stick Maddie in an arranged marriage-“

“Evan,” Maddie cuts in, voice gentle but firm enough for Buck to deflate. The smile she offers him is resigned. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” he protests weakly.

“Maddie understands the responsibilities she has as our daughter,” his father says, the, you don’t, heavily implied.

“Regardless, she’s far too old to be concerning herself with something as trivial as a love match,” his mother scoffs and Maddie’s mouth tightens into a thin line.

His parents love to bring up that Maddie is in her late thirties and still single. As if the whole reason for that isn’t because the last person they set up her up with tried to kill her – a trauma from which she’s obviously still recovering. Buck’s not about to let it happen again, not on his watch.

“Do you understand what a match like this could do for our family?” Margaret continues. Buck’s never understood his parents’ obsession with titles and social climbing. He would’ve figured still being a viscount and viscountess would be enough for anyone when, y’know, no one gives a shit about the monarchy nowadays.

“Besides, lord knows the Diazes would be indebted to us for even agreeing to it,” Philip adds with a derisive snort.

“I’ve heard Prince Edmundo is very pleasant,” Maddie offers, clearly trying to placate Buck and possibly trying to convince herself also. She’s putting on a brave face but Buck knows she’s nervous after Doug. It’s been years but Maddie still jumps at shadows.

Buck rolls his eyes. He may never have met him before but Buck has heard the scandal surrounding Prince Edmundo. He fell in love with a commoner and tried to marry her but his parents refused the match. Then, four years ago, a child was left at the palace gates with a letter addressed to Prince Edmundo. Apparently before they were forced apart Edmundo had gotten her pregnant and she was no longer in a position to take care of the child. Within hours, the whole world knew.

The Diazes had hired an entire new security team after that.

Buck hasn’t heard much since but he does know the potential marriage King Ramon and Queen Helena had been arranging for Edmundo completely fell through with the reveal of the child and he hasn’t publicly dated anyone since.

So now they’re here: a proposed match between Maddie and Edmundo so Edmundo can ascend the throne in the fall like he’s supposed to.

 “I still don’t like it,” Buck mutters.

“How about a compromise?” Maddie suggests then. “We have a trial period.

“I personally have no desire to get married to a stranger – I would, at least, like to know the man’s favourite food or his hobbies – so why don’t we see if Prince Edmundo would be agreeable to my coming to stay at the palace? Six months. A proper courtship. And, if anything untoward happens or I suspect something isn’t right, the union is ended.”

Their parents share a look, conversing only with their eyes and pinched mouths. Eventually their father looks back to them. “If the Diazes agree, then fine. But Maddie, you are running out of time. If Prince Edmundo doesn’t marry you then you can’t protest whoever else we choose. You’ve put it off long enough.”

Buck wants to protest but he knows this isn’t his fight. He’ll get his turn whenever they decide to turn his attention to him. He watches Maddie take a measured breath and is, once again, in awe of his sister’s ability to keep her composure. He can never do that. He always feels too much.

She looks their parents dead in the eye and nods. “I understand.”

“I’ll write to Helena then,” Margaret sighs.

~

“I don’t like it.”

Eddie just about refrains from rolling his eyes. He suspects the hand he has braced against his temple is just about the only thing preventing his parents from seeing the exasperation on his face.

“It sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Eddie says and his mother clucks her tongue.

“Of course it does, Eddie. You’re just looking for a way to get out of this.”

“No, I’m not,” he exhales. He’s long since given up on trying to get out of this marriage. Any hope he had of marrying for love ended when his parents forced him to kick Shannon to the curb. Christopher arriving on his doorstep a few years ago left that hope buried six feet beneath the ground.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care anymore. His priority is Christopher now. He doesn’t need romantic love; all he needs is a political match with someone who will, at best, be decent to his son or, at worst, ignore Eddie and Christopher except for public appearances.  

He understands Maddie’s reticence though.

“Maddie’s last fiancé tried to murder her, Mother,” Eddie points out. “She doesn’t know me. Of course she’d be hesitant to marry immediately.”

“Philip and Margaret never mentioned this when we were making the arrangements though,” his father cuts in and Eddie does roll his eyes this time.

“They probably hadn’t told her yet,” he says. “Really, I don’t mind.” If anything, six months in which his parents fixate on someone else besides him sounds like a dream come true.

His parents whisper to each other but Eddie doesn’t bother trying to listen in. Instead he glances out the window to where Chimney is training in their new security hire, Ravi. The kid looks fresh out of high school and like he spooks way too easily but Eddie still wishes he was out there with them. Or in the playroom with Carla and Christopher.

Or anywhere that isn’t here.

“Fine,” Helena says, snapping him back into reality. “We’ll allow it. But you are to be on your best behaviour, Eddie. Do you understand how difficult it was for us to find you a match after your indiscretions-“

“You mean my son?”

His mother huffs. “You know we love Christopher. But people talk and you must admit your actions with that woman were completely reckless. Just like always.”

Eddie ducks his head, fists clenching in frustration. “Mom, it’s been nearly ten years since I last even saw Shannon. I was a kid. I was stupid. But I’m not going to apologise for it. Not when it gave me my son.”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Ramon commands but then he folds, just slightly, and rubs at his forehead. “This is a good thing, Edmundo. It’s almost time for you to ascend the throne. It is your turn to honour this family; try to see that.”

Eddie doesn’t think there’s a single word in the English language he hates more than honour. Rolling his shoulders, he lowers his gaze and nods in acquiescence.

~

Eddie spends the rest of the day preparing for the Buckleys’ arrival with Hen, taking the chance to duck away to his room when she gets a phone call. She scowls at him and flaps her hand in a gesture that clearly indicates she doesn’t want him to go anywhere but he pretends not to understand and gets out of reach before she can grab him.

She’s confirmed Maddie’s brother, Evan, will be coming with her as well as Maddie’s personal security guard, Athena Grant. Eddie wasn’t aware the children of viscounts needed their own security detail but he guesses for Maddie it might be an extra precaution.

He’s heard the story, of course. How she and her previous husband had beaten the odds. Arranged marriages were common in their world but one that was also a love match was all but unheard of for people like them.

But Maddie and her fiancé, Doug, had seemed like the real thing. Their lavish wedding had been the talk of royal enthusiasts everywhere – the only people who actually pay attention to high society weddings. Then, a little over a year ago, Maddie was brutally attacked and almost killed.

Her husband had been the culprit.

And if Eddie’s sources are to be believed, Doug had been beating her the entire time they were together. Honestly, Eddie’s surprised she even agreed to the match. Though, if her parents are anything like his own, he doubts she had any say in the matter.

It makes him feel only the tiniest bit better about his own situation.

Losing Shannon is a pain that still aches deep inside of him but at least he’d loved her and she’d loved him back. And if nothing else, she’d given him Christopher, the most precious gift of Eddie’s life.

With him and Maddie…well. He doesn’t think they’ll fall in love but maybe they can be friends. After all, isn’t that what marriage is? Companionship? Eddie’s had love now; he knows what it felt like. Once is more than enough for him. He can be grateful for that – it’s more than most people get in his line of work.

A knock at his open door rouses him from his reverie and he looks up to find his abuela standing at the threshold, a mischievous sort of smile on her face.

“Abuela,” he says warmly.

“I hear we have visitors coming?” she says, crossing into his room and coming to rest at the chaise longue near his writing desk.

“I’m pretty sure Mom’s arranging a car as we speak,” he says, flashing a fake smile.

Abuela hums, regarding him with an appraising look as if she’s trying to read everything he’s not saying in the set of his shoulders or the slant of his eyebrows. She’s always been far too perceptive when it comes to him.

“How are you really feeling, Eddito?” she asks. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eddie hangs his head, letting out a weary sigh, before coming to sit beside her. “Do I have much of a choice?”

“You always have a choice,” she tuts. “Don’t let your parents make you think you don’t.”

“I always knew what my life would be. This isn’t some cruel twist of fate handed down by the universe. It’s my duty – to my family, to this kingdom.”

“And what about your duty to yourself?” she asks quietly and Eddie looks away.

He takes a moment to rally himself before he can manage to smile at her again. “I’ve gotten everything I want from life already. Christopher is enough. I don’t need anything else.”

Abuela watches him with something that could be pity on anyone else. From her, it’s just an overwhelming sense of empathy and love. She reaches out to pat his cheek and Eddie marvels – as he always does – at the way the casual affection he shares with her and his aunt never comes as easily with his parents.

“Protect yourself, Eddie,” she murmurs, a quiet request. “Please. For me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He swallows, emotion he doesn’t expect clogging his throat. “You had an arranged marriage. So did Mom and Dad. I’ll be fine,” he promises, lifting a hand to cover Abuela’s with his own where it still rests on his cheek.

“I know,” she says, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I was very happy with your abuelo. But you, mi ángel, have always dreamed of love. I want that for you.”

Tears burn behind his eyes but he blinks them away and forces a bright smile onto his face.

“I’m sure the Maddie will be a perfectly good match.”

It sounds like a lie even to himself.

~

Buck yanks at his tie for the sixth time since they got out of the car and Maddie slaps his hand away.

“Relax,” she mutters. “I feel like you’re more nervous than I am.”

He lets his hand drop with a sigh, shooting Athena a winning grin when she casts them both a sidelong glance. She rolls her eyes before turning back to talking to the Diaz chief of staff, Bobby Nash, as they make their way up the steps of the palace. Henrietta Wilson, who is Bobby’s second in command and evidently personally responsible for Prince Edmundo, keeps pace with him and Maddie.

“How are you feeling?” he asks under his breath and Maddie gives him an exasperated smile.

“I’m fine,” she insists, reaching out to latch onto his pinkie finger with her own and giving it a quick squeeze. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” he mutters.

Up until now Buck has been able to pretend this is all some farcical plan or- or a vacation for him and Maddie! But now they’re here and they’re about to have a formal introduction with the royal family and it suddenly feels real. Maddie’s getting married. Courtship or not, that’s the end goal in all this and she’s not going to be able to say no unless Buck can find a legitimate reason why.

And maybe it’s not Prince Edmundo’s fault and maybe he’s just as helpless in all of this as Maddie is but Buck’s still ready to hate him on sight.

This whole thing feels wrong, out of place. Maddie shouldn’t have to get married again if she doesn’t want to. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have to marry someone just to satisfy their parents’ need for social climbing. It’s not fair. She’s been through enough and he can’t believe their parents are willing to put her through another potential trauma by forcing her into an arranged marriage.

Well, not if Buck has anything to say about it.

He’s older now than he was when she and Doug first met and he’s determined to do whatever it takes to protect her. He even convinced his parents to let him be Maddie and Prince Edmundo’s chaperone during their courtship. (Not in an official capacity but still.)

It’s not much but if it lets him keep Maddie’s safe, it’s worth it.

They reach the main entryway and Buck grinds to an abrupt halt, just stopping short of barrelling straight into Athena. She gives him a look like she knows that’s exactly what he was about to do and he ducks his head, chagrined.

Henrietta clears her throat, clearly attempting to bite back a smirk when Buck looks up at her. “Ready?”

She’s talking to Maddie but Buck still has to tamp down on the urge to say no.

“Of course,” Maddie breathes and the doors open.

One of the other staff members introduces them. Buck hears it just as they step inside.

“Presenting the honourable Madeleine Buckley and her brother, Evan Buckley.”

The royal family are waiting by the staircase for them, their expressions ranging from eager to cordial.

And well. Prince Edmundo is exceedingly handsome, he’ll give him that.

He’s tall, though not quite as tall as Buck, dressed in formal attire with his hair swept back off his face in a way that looks seemingly effortless – unlike the fifteen minutes Buck spends in front of the mirror in the morning trying to make his curls sit just right. His tanned skin and big brown eyes, coupled with the affable smile make him seem…

Charming. He is, quite frankly, the fairy-tale definition of a Prince Charming and Buck feels himself seethe with something that’s not quite jealousy but maybe somewhere adjacent to that.

Prince Edmundo steps forward and, for the first time, Buck notices the little boy behind him. That must be his son, Christopher. He’s got crutches under his arms to keep him steady and one of the Diaz’s staff stands beside him – a kindly looking woman that keeps her hand protectively on his shoulder.

“Miss Buckley,” Prince Edmundo greets, stepping forward to take Maddie’s hand. He presses a faint kiss to the back of it and Buck bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s pretty sure he draws blood. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“And you as well, your highness,” Maddie replies, offering up a curtsy and a careful smile. And if nothing else, Buck will admit the smile Prince Edmundo offers in response seems more sincere than Doug’s ever was.

He turns to Buck then, extending a hand to shake.

“Your highness,” Buck greets before Prince Edmundo gets a chance to, giving his hand a too-tight shake and finishing it off with a half-assed smile.

Prince Edmundo raises an eyebrow but decorum wins out above anything else. “Mr Buckley,” he returns, his own hand tightening for a moment around Buck’s. If Buck didn’t know any better he’d almost think he was amused.

Queen Helena interrupts then, gliding forward to take Maddie’s hand. “Madeleine. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Maddie bows again, greeting the queen with a, “Your majesty,” that betrays none of the unease she might be feeling. One thing’s for sure, their parents trained her well.

“Welcome to our home,” King Ramon adds, coming to stand beside his wife and offering Maddie a greeting of his own.

They greet Buck and Athena next, completely pleasant and completely perfunctory. Their focus is on Maddie and that’s abundantly clear. Well, that’s fine with Buck. It’ll make it a hell of a lot easier for him to poke holes in this whole match if no one’s paying attention to him.

“We hope your journey was pleasant?” Helena says, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It was very comfortable,” Maddie assures. “It was so generous of you to send a car.”

“It was our pleasure,” Helena says then and she looks like she means it. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat a bit more but I’m afraid the king and I have a very important meeting we must attend to.”

“The work never stops,” Ramon jokes. “Eddie will show you to your living quarters and we’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

With that, they take their leave and Buck lets out the breath he’s been holding this entire time.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Prince Edmundo does the same. But then he turns to them with a beatific smile and gestures to the staircase.

“You must be tired after your journey. I can show you to your rooms and give you some time to get settled?”

The car ride had only been a couple of hours but Buck’s not gonna complain. Standing on ceremony is exhausting.

“Thank you, Prince Edmundo,” Maddie says because Buck might’ve used up all his manners by now but she clearly hasn’t. “That’s very kind of you.”

For the first time, there’s something almost awkward in the prince’s demeanour. Buck doesn’t understand what it is until he says, “Please, call me Eddie. I don’t see any reason why we should have to stick to formalities if we’re going to be getting to know each other as we are over the next few months.”

Maddie’s shoulders drop where she stands beside him and Buck is begrudgingly impressed Prince Edmundo – Eddie – has managed to put his sister at ease.

“In that case, please call me Maddie,” she says. “I don’t need any titles. And Evan-“

“Goes by Buck,” he cuts in, flashing Eddie a closed-lip smile.

“Buck,” Eddie repeats, as if testing the name out.

Buck hates that he actually likes how it sounds coming from him.

“I’ll remember that,” Eddie says before glancing over his shoulder. “And um, if we’re still making introductions, I’d like you to meet our chaperone.”

He steps aside and Buck watches as the little boy takes three tentative steps forward to stand at his father’s side. Eddie immediately crouches down to his level once he does, wrapping a comforting arm around him and Buck hates his own traitorous heart for melting a little at the sight. “This is my son, Christopher.”

“Hi, Christopher,” Maddie says, voice warm and welcoming, as she holds out a hand for him to shake. She always was amazing with kids. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Christopher takes her hand after a moment’s hesitation and stutters out a soft, “Miss Buckley,” that has Buck biting his lip so he can maintain his composure.

Why did Eddie have to have such a cute kid?

“You don’t have to call me that,” Maddie says with a chuckle. “You can just call me Maddie if you like.”

Christopher nods and lets go of her hand and then Maddie is reaching back for Buck. “This is my brother, Evan.”

Buck huffs at his given name but obediently steps forward, crouching down in the same manner Eddie had to get on Christopher’s level.

“My friends call me Buck,” he tells Christopher with a wink, offering him a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you too, Buck,” Christopher says with a bashful smile as he fits his tiny hand in Buck’s to shake it.

Eddie clears his throat and there’s something inscrutable in his expression when Buck looks at him. “How about we show you to your room?”

~

[anistarrose]

Hey. Psst. Person who comments things like "please update" on unfinished fics. As an AO3 author with a couple of works on indefinite hiatus, I'm gonna teach you the secret to maximize your odds of that author writing more of your beloved story. And it only takes two simple steps! Are you ready?

Stop commenting "please update" and similar things on incomplete fics.

Leave a comment about something you enjoyed in the fic. Anything. If you liked it enough to reread previous chapters, let the author know that too.

Why does this work? Well, if you tell us you liked the fic, we can infer that you would be excited to read more. We can draw that conclusion pretty effortlessly — we're usually fic readers too, so like, we get it.

On the other hand, if you comment just to ask/beg for an update? You are much more likely to leave a bad taste in our mouths. Your comment may be intended to be polite, but it does not exist in a vacuum.

If you're commenting "when will you update I'm desperate" on a fic with a lot of traction, the author has no doubt gotten dozens of similar comments, and is absolutely exhausted by them. But if you're commenting "please please please don't abandon this" on a fic with a tiny audience, that might be one of the only comments the author receives. Do either of those sound pleasant? Being flooded with demands for more content, or to have the only response to your creation be about the fact that it's incomplete, instead of about all the love you clearly put into it?

I can't speak for all authors. But I've had works fall into both these categories, and to me, both suck. I've gotten "update plz" comments while fighting for my life to get through college while chronically ill. I've gotten "I hope you keep writing this" comments from people who didn't even leave kudos, on fics that were explicitly labeled as "bonus scenes" for a separate and stand-alone, fully complete work.

Do I want to shoot a rude reply to any of these comments directly? I'd rather not, because I'm sure at least some of them are trying to express that they liked my writing, no matter how bad of a job they're doing. But the fact stands:

It's not fun, or motivating, or going to draw me back into an old hyperfixation, when the majority of comments I get are appreciating me only for content. That's just isolating. The comments that make me want to come back to old projects are ones that provide a chance for dialogue — even as simple as "I'm so glad you enjoyed!" — and make me feel appreciated as a part of a community.

That's it. Content versus community. Just comment in a way that shapes your interactions with creatives and fan spaces to be more about the latter.

[revehae]

two days ago, this blog turned two years old. well, that’s if you ignore the fact that i accidentally deleted my blogs this january. in spite of that, so many of you are still here with me and have been supportive even when i was quite literally losing my marbles. you guys have been patient through my periods of inactivity and reread my fics with the same amount of appreciation for them as you had the first read - if not more. and for that, i say thank you.

but i’m also saying goodbye.

just kidding! i was being serious for too long and so i felt the need to potentially strike some fear into someone’s heart for fun. anywho, no, i’m not actually leaving. not yet, anyway. there is so much more i want to do with this blog and so many ideas i want to share that will most likely carry on to the following year. so yeah, you guys are still stuck with me.

am i taking the two-year anniversary of a mostly k-pop tumblr blog teeming with dark, degenerate fantasies that ought to get me stoned by stubby, hairy ogres way too seriously? perhaps. but i’ll never forget what this blog means to me. i’m in a place now where my trauma is no longer something i feel suffocated by or bound to, but when i created this blog, i admit that there were still large parts of me that felt like i was “broken.” this was only possible because i found safe places where i could acknowledge it without fear of being judged, blamed, or attacked.

i realize not everyone has those places. one of the greatest delights i have is being able to own a blog where people with similar experiences as me are able to confront their pain in a way that makes them feel safe, comfortable, and most importantly, in control.

i went through periods of time where i wouldn’t even leave my room because i was so terrified of being subjected to the same nightmare again. i couldn’t go out in public, because when i did, i was constantly worried that someone was out to give me. this affected my relationships with my friends, family, myself, sex, the world - everything. it is a hell i wouldn’t even wish on Trumpington McDonaldton. or would i? just kidding. not really, considering his track record. but, back to the point, i know what it’s like to live in the dark. i know how unfair it is that someone can swoop in, ruin your life, and never, ever face consequences. meanwhile, you are staring at the consequences of what someone else did every single day. i know what it’s like to blame yourself. i know what it’s like to wish that things were different.

but i also know that as unfair as it is, as painful as it is, and as hard as it may be to accept, no one is going to single-handedly fix you. you have to be your own healer. you have to put the work in to build yourself back up and bounce back stronger than ever. i know firsthand how intimidating that can be, however, in my experience, the first step was not hiding from what i’d gone through. in a way that i originally never thought would be possible, writing and reading noncon fics was one of the most helpful ways of doing that. everything about this blog has been extremely cathartic for me. and the best part about it is that many of you have told me it’s cathartic for you as well, which fills me with a glee words cannot describe.

now, of course, my blog is not limited to Traumatized Individuals who had their brains rewired in the worst way possible via some negative experience - although i doubt you’re not still somehow traumatized if you religiously read my content. if you aren’t a victim of SA, you aren’t going to be crucified for reading noncon. it’s okay. don’t worry. but still, i will always support and stand up for those that are, even if they don’t cope in the same way as me. because not reading is also okay. there are so many different ways to cope with SA; i’m just happy to provide one of them to those that seek it out.

again, thank you all! thank you to those that have been here since the beginning. thank you to those that followed me this week. thank you to those who leave nice messages in my inbox, and reblog, and leave comments. thank you to my dearest sweet mutuals. thank you to those who followed me here from lisired and didn’t unfollow me when you realized i’m a little bit insane. thank you to those that read my fics over and over and never get bored! let’s heal together everyone. but let’s also be depraved and Scare The Hoes. and if you read all of this, i love you and i hope you get everything you ever wanted in life.

- with all of the love in the world, revehae!

[ofmermaidstories]

there’s something so bittersweet and lovely about fanfic, at it’s core. it’s so impermeable, because it’s so individual. fics don’t get finished. fics get lost because they were typed out and sent to friends, in the 70s, and somewhere along the way someone packed it up in a cardboard box and their kids shuffled it to the attic. websites go down. archives get built, but then people lose faith in the story or the canon or the creator and delete them. you read it at like, 3am, and can’t remember the title months later when you look for it again.

the tiktok these comments are from was lamenting about the loss of a favourite fic—it (the tiktok) had 85k+ likes, and over 700 comments, mostly similar to these. people talking about downloading fics to read on a tablet only for them to disappear the next day. using the wayback machine and combing through results, just to find something they loved. i think it’s sweet because it’s so human—how easily we love something, and how easily we lose it. i used to print out my favourite fics, as a kid—i still have a binder of them, buried under yearbooks and the old journals i kept during those topsy turvy preteen years. i could tell you the overarching plot to a Cardcaptor Sakura fantasy AU i read (and loved; it became my personality for months afterwards) but i can’t remember how it ended, or if it even did. i finally broke down and signed up for an account on AO3 specifically to bookmark an old, old fic that i had read somewhere else, years and years and years ago and found again on AO3 only because i accidentally stumbled on the author here on tumblr (i had only found the fic in the first place all those years ago because of a playlist). i used the same shade of lipstick for years purely because a fic i really liked had the main character apply it (it was a limited edition one at the time; i bought my first one from a ebay seller in the UK at double the retail price, lmao) while the love interest watched them, but i can’t remember the name of it, only how it made me feel (and how, for years afterwards, i would wear that shade whenever i felt like the day had something promising to it).

one of the first anon’s i ever got, in the early days of this tumblr, was someone who asked me if it was okay if they downloaded surrender—and of course it was. of course it is. there was a point, during the final stretch when i was trying to write the last chapter, that i almost lost the entirety of what i had written for that fic—and i mean, it was on AO3 by that stage so it would’ve only set me back a chapter or so, but it goes to show how fragile things can be. how sometimes fics only last in tiny ways—because of the unfinished PDF file someone downloads. The patchy memory of someone’s who’s jumbling it and three other fics together. Because someone wore the same shade of lipstick you mentioned, off-hand, for years afterwards.

(this is a love letter to the silent readers; the silent savers. the lurkers. fandom and the internet at large is made of lurkers (eighty-five thousand likes. seven hundred comments). people who saved fics and waybacked them and will reread them, even uncompleted. telling each other we did a good job, that we liked this or we liked that is wonderful, and fun, and a great (and important) way to build a community and has also given me my current friends—but sometimes something you make will matter and live on in a way you will never, ever know. and it’s just how it is. it’s part of the fun and it’s part of the charm. it’s just how we work as people.)

[sapphosewrites]

top 10 ds9 fan fics you've written, ranked?

Oooh, tough question, friend! I don't even know what the criteria for this would be, because the most AO3 popular ones are not always my favorites... Okay, you know what, here we go. I'm just going to go for it and make some decisions. I'm giving myself a rule, though, that I can only chose one from a series, so I'm not just listing everything in the Terok Nor AU. I'll also try to hit different kinds of fics I've written.

10.) After the End of the World: A Survey of Seminal Works of Cardassian Post-Apocalyptic Literature from cross-posted to tumblr. 533 words, "An examination of the Cardassian post-apocalyptic literary genre before and after the Dominion War." This isn't my most popular or my best written but it's one of my favorites; I like in-world diegetic texts and worldbuilding and I'm obsessed with the idea of post-canon Cardassia as post-apocalypse.

9.) Never Have I Ever from The Game Is Afoot, 1,294 words, T, "Julian introduces Garak to the human game never have I ever." This was fun to write and is fun to reread every time! I often spend a lot of fic space on angst and identity and all the reasons why it's a bad idea for Julian and Garak to get together, but in this one we just get to spend time seeing them be clever and enjoy each other's company.

8.) Tribbles, Togetherness, and the Great River, 1,742 words, G, "In their shared quarters, Nog and Jake discuss tribbles, pets, and telling their families about their relationship." This is my only full standalone Jake/Nog fic, and it's another that was a pleasure to write and still makes me smile. It's fun to spend a sweet moment with two young people figuring out how they fit together.

7.) Del Floria's Tailor Shop, 336 words, also known as the space tumblr one. I think this is possibly the funniest thing I've ever written.

6.) Push Me Til I Break, 4,653 words, M, also known as the one where Garak interrogates Julian, and the role play goes wrong. Maybe the most tense thing I've ever written, and really leans into the ways in which two deeply hurting people can choose to hurt or hold.

5.) Growth, 45,843 words, T, "Julian and Garak grapple with their pasts and their feelings for each other at the end of the series." My super long post-canon Cardassia fic, back when I had no idea how to string a multi-chapter idea together. There's a lot I would change if I wrote this now (I've grown as a writer in many ways, including my ability to have scene transitions), but some of the conversations and moments in here are still absolute favorites of mine, particularly around ideas of self-forgiveness, the clash between values and actions, and the importance of choice.

4.) Predetermination, 22,200 words, T, Mirror Bashir arrives at the station and suddenly the nature/nurture debate has never had higher stakes. This is one of the places I think I've been most successful in using sci fi to ask big questions that hopefully resonate in the modern day, about who we are and how we become. Also, the ending takes inspiration from one of my favorite TNG episodes, and that was cool too.

3.) Especially the Lies, 13,019 words, T, "Something is going on with Garak, and no one knows what, except for possibly Julian Bashir." This is my only archive-warning-applied fic and it was really important to me to tell a story about care, for a character who I think doesn't believe he's allowed to have any, in a real world circumstance that too often people have to go through alone.

2.) Necessary Storms, 15,149 words, T, Julian and Starfleet Spouse Garak get entangled in Trill politics. I feel like this is one of the things I've written that most feels like it could be an episode of Star Trek, and is also a fairly unsubtle (though initially unintentional) way to explore populism, demagoguery, resource distribution, and revolt at a very particular moment in national politics with the aesthetic distance that sci fi offers.

1.) Old Friends: An Enigma Tale from Terok Nor AU. I'm exceedingly proud of this whole series, which started as just "what can I do with the idea of dabo boy Julian" and has turned into a sweeping journey covering how Terok Nor becomes Deep Space 9. This most recent installment is perhaps not indicative of the series as a whole, but it was a lot of fun to write and is also a dip into my other favorite genre aside from sci fi (murder mystery).

[veliseraptor]

Fic Authors Self Rec

I was tagged by @kasasagi-eye to self-rec five fics which is always. a fun challenge in a few different ways. but good practice I think! and I did go through and make an Author's Favorites series for myself a while ago, which made this easier!

tried to do a bit of a spread of fandoms/time for funsies

Elegy, or Twelve Scenes About One Thing (The Silmarillion).

An old one! But I'm still pretty pleased with it. It's a style I don't write in as much anymore as I used to, but rereading it reminded me why I liked writing it to begin with. Just an impressionistic set of vignettes about Finrod and Curufin in Nargothrond; good old-fashioned cousin incest for a pairing I haven't written in a long time but am still deeply fond of.

Curufin’s hands had a smith’s calluses. It was the strangest thing, to feel how they caught on smooth skin, or on scars as Curufin passed his hands over Finrod’s bare chest. As though he were a piece of metal or gemstone to be coaxed into revealing its secrets. Finrod wondered what he found. “You fascinate me,” Curufin said, suddenly. Finrod blinked at what might have been an echo of his own thoughts. “Beg pardon?” “You fascinate me,” Curufin repeated. “You are…a rare thing.” His fingers paused, and tapped just above Finrod’s navel. “For all I watch you, I am unable to guess your mind.” “I am no great mystery,” said Finrod. Curufin shook his head. “Ah,” he said, “But perhaps that, there, is your mystery.” He smiled, eyes almost glittering, and lowered his head to drag his teeth along the curve of Finrod’s shoulder. “Still waters, they say.” Ran deep, Finrod thought, and untroubled. He did not feel untroubled. If he was still water, then there was a turbulence in his depths. A whirlpool spiraling toward the surface.

post war blues (Wheel of Time)

This is one of my favorite fics even though it's written for an audience of maybe five if I'm generous. I had a lot of fun with it. Min/Elan post-canon, sort of, with a background side of Rand/Elan and Rand/Elan/Min in the future if I kept writing this AU.

“You promised me higher praise,” Elan said, something arch in his voice. Min laughed. “All right,” she said. “I like you. When you’re not thinking about it, you’re a fairly decent person, at least now. You’re smart; I like smart people. And you have good cheekbones.” Elan stared at her, and she shrugged. “A girl can’t help but notice.” “Cheekbones,” Elan said, sounding incredulous. “That’s what you’re stuck on?” Min said. “I thought the ‘decent person’ would get to you more.”

gather frankincense (Lymond Chronicles)

Had to put this one on here mostly because I was proud of myself for writing Lymond fic complete with a satisfying number of references in it, but also because I love this fucked up pairing (Lymond/Gabriel) so much.

“Am I meant to ask what desires I need to concern myself with?” Lymond asked, voice still light; not precisely indifferent, but not much affected either. “The rest,” Gabriel said, and gestured at Lymond’s untouched glass. “Drink, be merry. You’ve already ruined yourself with opium. Surely a glass of wine is not too much an indulgence.” “I am not in the mood for indulgence. Is there a purpose to this pageantry, o my Pasha?” “Save that it is my pleasure?” Gabriel regarded him with a touch of amusement. “You would rather I tied you to a whipping post and had you flogged?” “You would gain marks for consistency,” Lymond said.

like a trigger (get me ready to shoot) (Kinnporsche)

This is, like, an embarrassingly personal fic in some ways which is probably also why it's important to me. I have strong feelings about Vegas and sadism and it was fun to explore them here and write a bit of a character study through that lens.

He stopped trying to make it last. There was always work, where he could hurt people so much worse and it didn’t matter, there was no reason to hold back and nobody who looked at him like some kind of monster, except for the people he wanted to. His dad gave him a man and said punish him and Vegas could, would, did. It was never quite enough. Somehow he was always coming up short when it mattered. A step below, a step behind. His father’s impatience and anger and frustration, always quick to remind Vegas of his inadequacies. At least when it was just him and his tools and a body meant to suffer, he knew what he was doing. He knew how to get what he wanted, and did. He liked to hurt people. He was good at hurting people. There might be something wrong with him but at least he was in the right line of work for it.

That Unwanted Animal (The Untamed/MDZS)

A fic for this fandom I don't talk about so much, written for an exchange a few years ago. Modern AU, which is a funny thing that I don't usually write except in a few very special cases, and this is a modern AU that I'm actually pretty proud of the execution on, mostly because the messiness of it and the construction of the relationships is one that I remain happy with even on reread (far from a guarantee). The side Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang dynamic is one of my favorite things about this one, funnily enough.

So the thing was that Xue Yang knew that this shit was too good to last. It was like some kind of fairytale, wasn’t it? Cinderella, or something. Go to a ball, meet a handsome prince, get swept off your feet. Plucked out of your shitty life and dropped into someone else’s. If Cinderella was a psychotic headcase and the prince was two stupidly handsome men who apparently had a thing for that, one too nice for his own good and the other one too head over heels for the first one to tell him no.

I tag @curiosity-killed, @lu-sn, @ameliarating, @brawlite, and @highladyluck.

[dilfdarthvader]

The official 'OP has read 500 Merlin fics in a month' rec list

I am truly deep in Merthur hell and have recently hit around ~500 fics read for this fandom so far. As such, I wanted to compile my favorite Merthur fics so far.

(if y'all like rec lists, i might do an obikin rec list too!)

Secretary by Candymacaron

rating: E

Summary: Job-hunting has familiarized Merlin with rejection. Most of the listings in the paper require qualifications he lacks, or prior job experience no eighteen year old would have. One listing sticks out at Merlin—a simple advert, with the word ‘Secretary’ written in bold typeface. (A Secretary Movie/BBC Merlin AU in which a fragile Merlin learns to love his job, himself, getting spanked, and his boss. All in that order.)

one of the first fics i read in this fandom and!!!! it's such a good secretary au (which is always a classic for any kink readers)

The Wedding Night by s0mmerspr0ssen

rating: E

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: The consummation of a royal marriage must be witnessed by a third party. Naturally, for Arthur and Gwen, that witness is Merlin.

My bookmark note read: "did i start watching merlin for the show or for the smut fic? this fic makes me think it's the latter". This ship is just SO GOOD too.

Next to You (It's the Rule) by LunaMyLove

rating: T

summary: Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur. Or Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others. Also, or Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

such a fluffy read that had me giggling and kicking my feet in the air and twirling my hair. instant reread

all the scars at the start (I could’ve showed you) by AgapantoBlu

rating: T

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: [In which Gwaine accidentally brings Merlin's dead girlfriend back to life as a ghost. Leave it to Arthur and Gwen to overreact over every small thing, but being very chill about the very big thing.]

you'll need to be logged into AO3 to read this, but boy is it worth it. i was sobbing. full on sobbing. 10/10

Glow Gold by BelleCrow

rating: E

Summary: Merlin takes the final battle into his own hands after Mordred's blade finds Arthur's heart. Wielding power over life and death there on the battlefield, Merlin's magic is revealed. But the only surviving witness is Arthur, and he has carefully spun the tale to keep Merlin's magic a secret. The King is determined to keep it so until he can drag the truth from Merlin's lips and press his own revelations back into his sorcerer.

this fic gave me a magic kink. i had to keep pausing reading bc holy shit.

Fit for a King by Clea2011

rating: E

Summary: Merlin is a prize fit for a king. But the king he was intended for hasn't taken that prize. When the king of the faeries loses his big-eared, argumentative and troublesome bedmate, he orders his people to find a replacement. Nobody disobeys Oberon. Ever. But Merlin is Arthur's.

FAE! FICS! i love love love this fic and it was so fun and full of some fun familiar characters

so close and I'm halfway to it by ariadne_odair

rating: M

Summary: Merlin swears he doesn’t go looking for trouble, but it seems to follow him around regardless. After being ambushed by a group of bandits, it’s up to Arthur and Merlin to rescue the rest of the knights. Of course this involves journeying through a forest full of magical creatures- because nothing in Merlin’s life is ever easy. That would be more than enough for Merlin to deal with, but nights alone in the wilderness and escaping death every five minutes, have a funny way of bringing two people together. Merlin doesn’t want to reveal his true feelings to Arthur, but then he never wanted to reveal his magic to anyone, either. And look how that turned out. It's a lot easier to manage Merlin's secrets between them when they're surrounded by nothing but trees. But Arthur and Merlin will have to return to Camelot eventually. Merlin's destiny might just be closer than he thinks.

and finally, the first fic in a decade that kept me up until 2am to read. this fic made me fall in love with fics again.

[chimkin-samich]

Hi!

I have had a block for both writing and drawing for several years. I look at your works with longing in my eyes and think how wonderful it would be to draw regularly again. I was never particularly talented and had many gaps in learning to draw, but I enjoyed it. Now I don't know how to start drawing or writing. My laptop is full of unfinished stories. I have lots of ideas for drawings, but it's hard for me to get down to work.

Therefore, my question is: Do you have any advice for people who haven't drawn/written for several years and would really like to get back to it, but can't motivate themselves, have no ideas, etc.? Or quite the opposite. They have lots of ideas, but for some reason they can't draw anything?

Greetings and have a nice morning/day/evening/night!

Hello! Sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted to make sure I could respond properly to this so I thought it over a lot, I’m going to put it under a read more cuz it’s gonna get long lol

I (sly) am kinda in the same position as you at least when it comes more to art, writing ive kinda cracked the block but still trying to break through the ice, all the art on our blog is Ferals art, I only complete the line work and shading (but not always) I haven’t drawn any of my own stuff in probably a few years but I’m trying to get back into it cuz I miss it as well, I completely get the whole feeling of looking at Feral’s art and wanting to create my own but finding it so difficult to do

For the art aspect my plan is to start at square 1, start how I first starting drawing, which for me was to look up refs, animals and draw them by sight, just to get back into the groove of trying to bring back that muscle memory, maybe you started by tracing images, you could trace only the rough outlines and then shade and detail them, just something simply and easy, you probably won’t be happy with the results (I know I certainly won’t be with my own) but it’s a start

Look up things that you enjoy, draw your squad, incorrect quotes to do with ocs maybe even draw them out, try and keep it simple, you don’t need to create a masterpiece on the first day back, any attempt is a step forward even if you dislike it, try it out at least once a day everyday, a simple doodle just for fun or to exercise your muscle memory again, the first part is gonna be hard and messy, that’s totally ok! All that matters is the attempt!

For the writing aspect try and keep it simple as well, focus on making short one-shots or even just bullet point dialogues, your old unfinished writing isn’t going anywhere, when you feel comfortable enough to attempt to continue it just go for it!

I had a big gap in my writing periods and sometimes I still go a few months with out touching any of my stories, blocks happen and are normal, something that I try to get back into is read other people’s work, both to see the writing style and to get some inspiration to continue my own works

When I actually get down to actually writing my story I just dump down the story as I think it, I just keep writing even if it looks messy and grammatically incorrect to at least get the story moving and progressing. After I have the rough story down, is when I go back to correct spelling mistakes, add more details/dialogues or events in between to create a much better flow for the story

I usually do this multiple times for each fic I create, usually in between pauses (either due to blanking on ideas or just cuz I wasn’t feeling it) so whenever I reopen my doc, I just reread and add on, then I do it again one or two more times once it’s completed

I struggle a lot with perfectionism when it comes to my art and writing, and unfortunately it’s a big killer for my motivation, especially when I see others that make better works than me. I’ve been slowly unlearning that urge to make everything perfect, by just allowing myself to have messy and rough works, it’s not always going to come out how I want it but at least I got it as close as I could in the moment with my current skill level

I like to tell myself, the more I keep doing it, the more I’ll improve, and I’ll always be able to come back with more ideas and skill to remake this better than my first attempts, just because I did it doesn’t mean I can’t try to do it again

Being easier on yourself does wonders (I know easier said than done unfortunately 😭) but your practically having to relearn skills that have gotten rusty, even if you were doing great before, your gonna have to build back up to that point, it’s just like exercising a muscle ✨

I hope this was able to help! I wish you much luck in your journey back into art and writing!

[callmearcturus]

⌚ 🙏🏻🥺

"Hang on," Grace said, "I'm thinking. Hang on. So. You barely even *liked* me, and you saved me from that rat bastard Gabriel, pulled me out of a wrecked car, played human shield to protect me from that lunatic French girl, drove us around while handcuffed, then I almost let a train hit you and you still, you know. Saved me and all that sappy shit, all while you barely even liked me--" "I liked you well enough," Ethan said. "Uh-huh, sure." She points to Benji. "So what would you do for him?"

lmao okay okay this was one punct and i were kicking around that got surprisingly far but now this version needs a full rewrite bc we actually want to make the cast of characters line up with what the Final Reckoning trailer revealed would be Team The Best Team. so this is the old version with luther and grace.

the concept is that Ethan and Benji have a massive expository row because the team just had a chance at Gabriel and Ethan fucked it to go save Benji (even though Grace was Right There and ready to assist, she is badly stung by this) and it spirals into this back and forth with flashbacks and competing interpretation of event between Ethan and Benji while Grace basically is eating popcorn

also we really wanted to harness the simmering, barely suppressed anger that Ethan has through all of Dead Reckoning. rereading it all, it's really good. we're gonna have to figure out a grace-paris-degas redux but @interropunct bro i just reread the document and it's SO fun, ethan and benji are both SO FUCKING MEAN in this fic

anyway, here is a large chunk bc a lot is gonna be rewritten. won't provide any more excerpts of this fic bc this is a chunky chunk:

Sitting on the edge of the table, Grace actually pressed her fingers to her cheeks, reflecting and magnifying Benji. "Oh, that's precious. And so long ago! How long, exactly? Wait, and you've been--" Dropping the cute expression quickly, she made a gesture with her fingers, suggestive, "-- since all the way back in the stone age?"

"You're not that much younger than us," Luther chided her. He was sitting in one of the less rickety chairs, pointedly listening without looking at either Ethan or Benji. That meant he was really thinking about this, taking it in as new information.

Luther did not need even more information about Ethan. If there was an upper threshold for knowing a person, Luther had hit that for Ethan back in the early 2000s.

"You don't know my age, don't pretend like you do," Grace shot back. "I've worked very hard to ensure that." She pointed at Benji. "Go on, about the shagging?"

Benji, unaware of Ethan's new paranoia, seemed happy enough to oblige. "We--ell, no, not precisely? We had a few run-ins around the IMF HQ."

"We have an HQ?" Grace asked, pouting. "I thought it was this big decentralized thing."

"Oh, now it is, yes. Thank god for that, the old headquarters were this nightmare of glass walls everywhere you went. The least clandestine building you could imagine for an intelligence group." He flapped a hand through the air dismissively. "Trying to get a lick of privacy there was impossible, so eventually I started meeting Ethan back at my place... a couple of times?"

Unable to strangle the thing in him that had to be accurate with numbers at all times, Ethan supplied, "It was three times. At least, that year we... it was thrice, before the other times."

Luther barely moved at all, but suddenly his eyes were fixed on Ethan.

Discretion was the better part of valor; Ethan looked away, scuffing the toe of his boots against the dusty floor, examining the shape of his footprints.

"Sure, thrice, sounds about right," Benji agreed. "It was just some fooling around before he met... someone." He moved his shoulders in a carefully smooth, casual shrug. "And that was about as serious as cardiac arrest, so that put an end to it. Amicably, of course, I wasn't under any, you know." Another shrug, this one the exact same movement, a scripted motion Benji forgot to space out. "Misconceptions."

The back of Ethan's teeth twinged. He made himself unclench his jaw, wondering if Benji's bullshit was as obvious to everyone or if Ethan had just become an unwilling scholar in all of the tics and tactics of Benji Dunn.

He didn't get to gauge that because Grace was looking at him now, her brow furrowed like she was mentally recasting him as a younger man. "Hm. Well, fair enough, you may be onto something here. I mean, if it was just a bit of rough fun back twenty-thirty-whatever years ago a handful of times. That shouldn't still be a factor unless one or both of you are super weird about it."

Benji and Ethan looked at each other simultaneously, like the slack in a rope suddenly pulling out and slamming their gazes into each other.

Benji had the decency to look abashed, his teeth pressing down on his lower lip.

When he didn't answer Grace's implicit question, Ethan crossed the room to stand by her, dragging Benji's gaze with him. Popping one hip up, Ethan rested his weight on the table next to her and folded his arms.

Benji pursed his lips. Ethan lifted his eyebrows.

Grace, watching this exchanged, grinned and looked back at Benji.

The color in Benji's face darkened, his neck flushing, his ears going pink. "I-- I didn't say that, I mean, he-- we-- there was the time after he got out of prison."

"Which one?" Ethan asked innocently.

Benji glared back at him. "You know which one."

===

It's pure coincidence that Benji's the one who gets the call. He's rarely been back in the States since passing his field exam, which he's been told is normal for IMF agents. The organization might be technically American, but sometimes that's easy to forget. There's a lot less jingoistic ooh-rah attitude than Benji's experienced when he's been to Quantico and god forbid fucking Langley. It suits him well enough as a former Briton since he's never been able to work up a sense of patriotism for either of his homelands.

Point being: it's luck that he's the one who gets the call. With more than a little banked amusement, Benji steals the first car he sees that looks like it's more than a V6 and races across the desert at speeds that would conservatively get him fined an imperial fuckton of money but more likely would get him arrested.

Benji has known for most of his life that it's only illegal if they can catch you.

An hour and change of fast but uneventful driving later, Benji's phone pings, informing him he's approaching the extraction point. Taking his foot off the gas, the car has plenty of momentum to coast the rest of the way there.

'There' is a spot in the middle of nowhere on US-95 under a spotless blue sky. Pulled off to the side of the road is a rust-red Camaro with the hood propped open. It's late enough in the day that the asphalt ripples like river water, but the sun has at least fallen enough to cast a shadow.

Sitting in the narrow shadow of the car with his arms draped over his knees and his shirt draped over his head and shoulders, is one Ethan Hunt. As Benji closes in, he can see the subtle shift of Ethan's head as he tilts it just enough to look over and examine the approaching vehicle.

Something must give Benji away, because before he's got the car in park, Ethan springs up, shaking his head to knock the shirt off. He strolls out into the road enough for Benji to glide to a stop next to him.

Rolling the window down, Benji is granted a shockingly unguarded look as the blast of air conditioning rushes out the window and ruffles through Ethan's hair. With a sigh of vivid relief, Ethan leans his arms on the car, soaking in the cool artificial breeze.

Leaning into an expensive car window in a singlet and a pair of dark blue jeans, he strikes a very specific image, and Benji can't help himself. "Going my way, doll?"

Ethan smiles, quick and bright, but the second he spots the bottles of water in the cup holders, he reaches out a hand in silent by clear demand. Passing one over, Benji watches Ethan crack the seal on the cap and proceed to knock back two-thirds of the water, his throat working swallow after swallow with mechanical efficiency.

The last third he pours over his own head, dousing his hair and skin with a sigh. "Okay. Thank you."

Putting the car into park, Benji slides out. "What the hell did you do, run out of fuel in the middle of the desert?"

"Mechanical failure," Ethan says, beckoning as he walks over to the popped hood. The back of his hand rubs the rivulets of water from his face, leaving dark smudges behind. The dampness makes the tips of his hair curl, the length notably shorter than when they were in Russia-then-Dubai-then-Mumbai.

The sun is still brutal. Sliding his light jacket off, Benji holds it up, blocking the light a bit and shading Ethan. With his shoulders and neck exposed like that, Ethan's lucky he's not already burnt like a slice of white bread left in the toaster.

Ethan glances over at Benji, eyebrows lifted. "What?" Benji said. "I don't know anything about cars."

"Really?"

"I know how to disable any tracking on a vehicle, how to hotwire the ignition, how to parallel park, and how to crack the remote start encryption. Anything beyond that, forget it."

That earns him a grin, the dark streak curving with Ethan's skin. "Well, one of the coolant hoses cracked. Ergo, engine can't keep cool. And it's a bit hot out here."

"Ah, right, and the CPU just automatically shuts down when you get over 70 degrees."

"Sure," Ethan says with a little laugh.

"Your car?"

"No. Arranged ride courtesy of the IMF. Yours?"

"Probably better than yours. I made sure to lift it out of the parking garage of an upscale office park."

His smile curves into a smirk. "Clearly you do know a bit about cars." Bracing himself on the lip of the lifted hood, Ethan's eyes settle on Benji's and hold.

Abruptly, Benji has a full-body memory hit him. Another year but the same smirk and the same open, honest eyes. And Ethan has not gotten less attractive since their first meeting.

No, if anything, Benji wants him more. It'd be a problem if not for the way Ethan's practically beaming the query into Benji's skull.

It strikes him like a premonition coalescing out of the heat mirage: Benji gets the feeling he's losing his footing here, that he's going to have a hard time saying no to this man.

He clears his throat, dry in the lingering heat of the fading day. "So, you going to let me drive for once?"

Ethan makes a show about thinking about it, his arm dropping back to his side, back into the shelter of Benji's jacket. "I might. You seem to have a handle here, Agent Dunn."

===

"God," Grace said from where she's laid on her back across the table, her jacket folded up under her head, her fingers laced across her belly. "What a line. You put me in 38 degree heat and I couldn't be seductive if my life depended on it." She turned her head to look at Ethan as he continued to sulk against windowsill. The backlit of the city lights were kind enough to obscure his sour expression. "You're a rare operator."

Benji huffed out a laugh as he focused on draining his teabag against his spoon, tossing the sachet into the trash with a nimble flick of his fingers. "The best in the business. I still see that lean and the black smear in my dreams sometimes." With a loud, dramatic sigh, he shook his head. "So we... got on again. Either because I'm weak or Ethan's that good. Half dozen one, six of the other."

The line of Ethan's shoulders drew tight as a bow. "I was on that roadside for three hours and you had the A/C at full blast. I would have done anything to get in that car."

Twisting at the hips, Benji cast a look back at the surly silhouette. "Hm? So if it'd been, say, Brandt who was showing up, you would have still been all slinky with the bedroom eyes?"

Grace only knew William Brandt by reputation, and the way Ethan instantly frowned was another piece of information to add to the collage. "Brandt?"

"In this hypothetical alternate reality," Luther said slowly with a deep hum of amusement, "is Brandt the kind of person who would bother showing up? He'd just delegate that shit out. He'd invent some new requisition form, fill it out in triplicate, and file it with the appropriate authorities before he'd drive out into the desert like that."

"Brandt's a good man," Ethan told Grace seriously. "He just... expresses his concern in very specific ways."

"I would bet every black money paycheck I have ever gotten that he's never gotten off in the backseat of a car," Benji added helpfully.

Getting an elbow under herself, Grace pushed herself up to sitting. "Okay, wait. Shagging in the backseat is already a precarious proposition for anyone over the age of twenty-five in my humble opinion." Benji and Luther both nodded in tacit agreement; Ethan had reverted to his stoic fuming. "But you two did this in the middle of the road in broad daylight after one of you had been in the sun and dirt for hours?" She let out a low, impressed whistle. "That is interesting, now that I think about it."

Ethan's tone of voice had that very particular quality to it that Grace had learned meant he was trying to unclench his jaw and mostly failing. "Interesting how."

She kept her eyes on Benji, who was a much softer target than the alternative. "I am missing an important piece of information that I definitely need to understand the situation." She pressed her palms together. "Was-slash-is the sex good?"

Head snapping up, Ethan was completely back in the conversation. "Grace!"

"It's vital intelligence!" she told him earnestly.

"That isn't relevant!"

"Mhm, dunno, I think it is," Luther offered up with a remarkably straight face. "The parameters change pretty dramatically. If the sex isn't good versus if it is good, that one variable alters the way we interpret the information. The motives at play become significantly different."

Folding his arms tightly over his chest, Ethan narrowed his eyes at Luther. "This isn't an op sec debrief, you don't need to interpret--"

"It was nice," Benji said simply.

Grace lifted her eyebrows at him. "How nice?"

"When you're going to shag in the backseat of a stolen car in the middle of the desert, it's, you know." He shrugged one shoulder. "Good."

===

It's hard to tell in the overbright light of the sun, but the moment Benji gets Ethan into the car, stretched out across the backseat, the shade reveals that Ethan's skin is almost glittering, the sheen of road dust and sweat and bottled water coating him like a coating of sugar or salt.

Salt, Benji discovers with his mouth, and earth. It should not be as hot as it is, but then again, everything is hot by definition right now, it's bloody US-95.

"Close that door," Ethan pants, getting a grip on the seat enough to pull himself further into the car.

"You're not that short," Benji says.

A fast roll of Ethan's eyes escapes him before he reaches up over his head, grabbing the handle of the other door and shoving it open, the beautiful flat line of the desert behind him. "Come on, Benji, logistics."

Well, Benji was good at logistics.

With the door behind them shut, giving them a laughably small amount of protection from the road (and giving any passing drivers a laughably small amount of protection from them), Benji gets his hands on all that skin, running his hands up under Ethan's shirt, his palms pressed firmly. Without further prompt, Ethan tears his shirt up; it escapes his grasp and flutters out the open door. "Shit," Ethan says quietly, almost tilting his head to look.

Gripping Ethan by the belt, Benji drags him down, getting his mouth on the tender skin under the hinge of his jaw, tongue pressing hard enough to feel the pulse there. Shirt forgotten, Ethan cups the back of Benji's head. It'd be tender, but he drags Benji even closer, making a thin noise as Benji's teeth press to his neck.

To hell with logistics, there was nothing thought-out about it, every coherent thought melting out of Benji's skull. There's no way to get more naked without some contortionist-level maneuvering, so Benji doesn't bother, instead just gets things unbuckled, unzipped, opened.

The last time they'd done this, it had been different. Benji hoped Ethan didn't notice, worked to get his hand on Ethan's cock so he wouldn't think about their dalliances back in DC. This wasn't discrete blowjobs and making out in the stairwell with an easy smile and whispered jokes.

Don't think about it, Benji begged silently. If Ethan did and asked Benji why, he did not have an answered prepared. And the truth would probably not go down well.

Fortunately, Ethan just got his foot braced on the frame of the door, legs spread wide as Benji squeeze his dick. "Benji, yesss," he said in a hushed voice, sibilant and needy, "don't stop, don't--" A hand flung out to grip the storage pocket behind the passenger seat, holding on as his head tipped over the edge, dropping back to gasp at the desert beyond.

Anything Benji said would have been much too dangerous, so he focused on tasting the dust and salt, muffling himself as Ethan's body tensed under him, ignoring the heavy thud of want want want filling his thoughts.

===

"Nice?" Grace prompted, hands curled around the edge of her seat, tucked between her thighs, a perfect coquettish image she was aiming at Benji like a laser sight. "Or good? Or..." She trailed off meaningfully.

Not for the first time, Ethan felt a sense of relief that Benji was so consistently unattracted to women, he was immune to Grace's sharply honed maneuvers. Half of her repertoire just didn't play with him, thank god.

Instead of noticing Grace's entreating stare, Benji was examining his fingernails, idly breaking off a chipped bit as he very deliberately didn't look Ethan's way. His awareness was a constant weight, though; as Ethan continued to pace, one of his steps brought him six inches closer to the center of the room, and Benji-- did not look, but reacted, a millisecond of extra time between his breaths before he went on. "I'm not sure what to say. I mean, these things are sort of subjective, I think?"

"Oh, certainly," she agreed. "And what's your subjective opinion?" Her eyes flicked to Ethan, then back to Benji. "Scale of one to ten?"

"Aces high or low?" Luther added.

For a moment, the threat feels real, that he'll have to stand here and listen to a Critical Analysis of Sex with Ethan Hunt. Before he just decides to escape out the damn window, there's a crack in his veneer, Benji's head twisted quickly to Ethan, just enough to flash a grimace that Ethan thoroughly agreed with.

The alternative was almost worse. "The quality of any given sexual encounter isn't the issue here," Benji said, voice flattening. "Hell, the fact that we did have sex isn't even on trial here. The actual issue is that he," and here, he managed to nod his head in Ethan's direction without actually looking at him at all, "has been pulling this shit since London. The sex is-- is incidental!"

"London," Grace echoed.

London. Ethan's fingertips dug into his arms as his pacing slowed and he came to a stop.

The wooden chair creaked as Luther got up, shaking his head as he walked over to the very narrow kitchenette they'd set up. (If a portable induction top on a minifridge counted as a kitchenette.) "London," he said. Pulling the fridge open, he extracted a bottle of water, two beers. "Benji, drink?"

"Just flip the kettle back on," Benji sighed.

Distributing the water to Ethan and one of the beers to Grace, Luther used the edge of the table to pop the top off his own bottle. "Long time ago, a different crazy mass-murdering terrorist abducted Benji to try to force Ethan's hand."

"'Tried' successfully," Ethan pointed out bitterly.

"He fitted me for a lovely new semtex vest," Benji said. "Accessorized with enough shrapnel to kill everyone in the vicinity. All for access to a redbox that Ethan was able to get ahold of."

"Oh," Grace said, her bright amusement from the entire situation dimming. "Well, shit."

"It worked out," Luther said. "Ethan got Benji out of there and we managed to incapacitate Lane, put an end to his organization."

Ethan opened his mouth to correct that rosy version of the downfall of the Syndicate, wanting to mention the months of additional work tracking down the remnants, the splinter cells, the Apostles and Lark and Kashmir.

The hurt radiated from Benji as he went on. "Oh yes, the whole thing went swimmingly. What Luther is kindly leaving out is the bit where the reason the whole mission went to shit was me. But don't worry, Ethan hasn't forgotten."

"What," Ethan said slowly, stalking forward and purposefully putting himself in Benji's line of sight, "are you talking about?"

"After Cobalt, I actually thought you took me seriously. Hell, you barely let me work with other teams--"

"Because we work well together. Wait, are you upset that I..." He'd never considered that Benji was resentful about being Ethan's first-pick for 90 percent of team compositions, Benji had never indicated anything but quiet surprise when it started, and the way that melted into tacit understand, the mutual understanding that Ethan wanting Benji on his team was a foregone conclusion, Ethan thought they both understood.

"--maybe once that was because you," Benji shook his head once, hard. "But after our romantic candlelit bomb-filled evening, something changed. You never trusted me as an agent again, trusted me to understand the parameters of this horrible fucking job. Not with Lane back then, and not now with Gabriel."

"Okay, let's have a breath here," Grace said suddenly, which was good because Ethan was not sure what words were about to come out of his own mouth beyond what are you fucking talking about and her voice was like a pin popping the bubble both of them were alone in. "Benji, that's a lot of, ah."

"Olympic leaps of logic?" Ethan offered.

"Shit you should have hashed out on a therapy couch?" Luther added.

"Lived and frequently replicated life experiences," Benji said, mouth twisted in anger. "Don't act like this didn't start the next day after I was abducted."

[saiyanwitcher]

You clearly put a lot of thought into PoD, what is your favorite Easter egg? Or is there something you have planted that we as readers have not noticed yet?

Oh there are so many, I don't even know where to start, and I apologize for this long answer in advance!!🫣

I seeded/planted a lot of the endgame ideas for this story very early on that I think weren't noticed or are more there for like a reread when you know what is going to happen. Some of them haven't fully been revealed yet so I won't share, but others I can point out!

Chapter 6 had this line: "Only Max and Jos knew the truth about the demise of planet Toro, and he would take that secret with him to the grave." This has since been revealed in chapter 29 when Max tells Charles what really happened, but I don't think I got any comments at the time about that throw away line in 6. Chapter 14 also referenced Jos trying to get Max to beg again like he did for Toro with the line: "You think your pleas mean anything to me now after all these years trying to make you beg again?" And also later in 14 with: Without so much as looking back, Charles yelled out, “They're all dead because of you!” and the double doors slammed shut behind him.

Chapter 8 referenced the revelation that Carlos and Charles were half bothers with the line: "Be careful, brother," he warned, voice tinged with disdain like the word tasted bad in his mouth." And then another reference in 18: “Then why him, your Highness ? What does he have that I don’t? He's third-class, just like me. He—he's even worse than that . . . a fucking purge infant! A bastard. A symbol of shame on my house and family.”

Chapter 18 has this line: “It's a bracelet,” Charles began softly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and worry, “This one in particular . . . is supposed to keep the wearer safe. It’s something my father gave me before he passed away. He said it had been in the family for generations, always protecting those who wore it from harm.” This line is significant because as soon as Charles took it off and gave it to max, he was then hurt by George very shortly after, and Max was more unharmed than usual on his assignment. Also, since Charles has not been wearing it and Max has, Charles has gotten himself into all kinds of trouble . . .

Here are also just some general ideas behind some key moments that are worth of mentioning and my personal favorites:

The whole edit graphic for Chapter 8 still makes me giggle and it's where the chessboard parallels started for this fic. The photo of Carlos in a white shirt and Charles in a black shirt representing white and black sides on the board. White always makes the first move in chess and this alluded to Carlos being the older son/first lover of Max. Then the photo in the center of that graphic with the white king smashing the black king alluded to Carlos being a long standing opponent to anyone getting near Max. Carlos' later deeds with the camera and the anon report confirmed that.

Another fun one is George being revealed to have also been a stolen prince, just like Max, but claims that he gave up that title and old life in favor of fully committing to his new role and identity within the PTO. BUT . . . George still wears his mantel from Elysia as part of his PTO uniform 🤭 Chapter 9 has this line: Charles watched him tuck his tablet under his arm and retreat down the hall with a long light blue cape flapping behind him. Even Max doesn't wear his mantel from Toro, so maybe George hasn't completely given up like he thinks he has?

And alright, because I can't help myself, here are some lines that allude to later parts of the story coming up that maybe people glanced over:

Chapter 6: “This boost is also Jos’ greatest fear.” Alonso continued, drawing Charles confused gaze again. “Tales of a legendary Torossian warrior that would appear every one thousand years were known throughout the universe. Most of the knowledge around the conditions required to break through into the altered state were lost with Toro, but even Jos knew this warrior would've been able to challenge him.”

Chapter 6: "I'm not a good man, Charles."

Chapter 7: “On Earth, we have wish orbs that are scattered across the globe. When you locate all seven and bring them to a sacred temple, you can have a wish granted by a spiritual being that accepts the orbs as payment."

Chapter 12: The emperor’s most prized possessions from his conquests and victories were displayed prominently throughout the room. Heads of rebel forces and more than a few Torossian tails were mounted on the walls, trophies of his unimaginable cruelty. 

Chapter 12: Those familiar cerulean jewels that always made him smile and feel tingly inside, melted into molten pools of fire and rage. Max's eyes reflected back at him in the dim room like caged Hell, ready to be unleashed causing untold devastation. His wet hair, darker than its normal blonde, had even started to glow like spun strands of golden silk at the tips. 

Chapter 19: “A compatible match? What does that mean?” “It means that your energy frequency is on the same plane as the prince's. Another part of being an Eldri is that you can give part of your energy to your mate when they are in duress. I, myself, am unfamiliar with the process, but I’ve heard of it being done.”

Chapter 26: Walking closer, he had the feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him, but he couldn't help but feel like eyes were following him.

Eyes that weren't the prince's.

[bonerot19]

ur post x100. so desperate for SOMETHING to look at i went to the for you tab. lasted 2 minutes before deciding if i'm going to be looking at shit content anyways i might as well get it from instagram, at least then i won't be forced to read the worst character takes that have ever cursed my eyes.

…unfortunately instagram sucks ASS. got any fic recs for a fellow desperate insomniac, Rot? they would be GREATLY appreciated

real. my whole dash rn is just me and the the for you (cursed) is just posts I've already seen??? often things mutuals are reblogging from me??

i honestly don't know what I've been reading lately. mostly going through old bookmarks. here are some of the things I go back to and reread though

the neighborhood watch by alexaaffect (anything by them, really)

both harm reduction and echoes of future past by orangesky37 (my beloved @kindlingkeen here on tumblr) are favorites of mine

pain is just pain entering the body by femme_morte (@theeclecticenquirer here on tumblr) is fun if you like things that have medical things going on and lets ya test how much you learned watching house md and greys anatomy

lowkey I haven't had the attention span to read things lately (my job is reading things and I Have Not been getting my work done :D) I am suffering

[notjustjavierpena]

Hi I’m a big fan of your husband Javier series. I love how fleshed out the family is. I’m eagerly waiting for the next fic. I check for updates everyday and reread your fics constantly! I’m looking forward to the twins being born and how they handle going from managing 3 kids to 5 and the craziness that comes with that. I love how all the kids have unique personalities (Ines being the chaotic child is my fav)

I would love to hear what your take on Steve Murphy would be and his reaction to his former womanizing coworker becoming a family man

Hiya, anon! First and foremost, I just want to say thank you for following me on Hubby’s journey. It means so much to me to hear about people’s relationship with him. I can’t wait to get through the million of WIPs that I have for the Peñas, so I can give you more content! Let’s see when I am going to get to the twins being born, hahaha.

In this AU, Steve and Connie actually live nearby. Connie and Wife are old friends, so Steve obviously knows her very well as well. He sees it instantaneously when Javier falls in love with her, and he takes it upon himself to slap his back, smile and tell Javier that he is in love when the stupid man complains about heartache that he has never had before. Steve teases him about it, smiles over the top of his beer bottle, and pokes fun because who woulda thought that the famous casanova would be in love trouble? However, he is beyond pleased with seeing Javier happy, and Olivia has babysat once or twice.

[vodkassassin]

:3c Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

1.

and i’m reminded of the simple life (where I work and just be used) (SVSSS) Shang Qinghua

It’s my Shang Qinghua superwhump fic with an overlaying plot that evolved from a one shot I had written one morning over coffee before work a few years ago. I never anticipated it growing into something of this scale. Through this fic, I’ve been able to explore certain characters and their motivations and behaviors in ways I wouldn’t in other stories. It’s great fun for me <3

2.

Shakespeare in the Park (Skyrim) Dominic Moriah (OC)

My good old insert-OC Dominic and his adventures in Skyrim, transmigration gamer style. This one is a story I’ve been working off and on for YEARS and I still have so much planned for it. I’ve barely even started m. The fact i have gotten so many comments on this fic along the lines of “I don’t even go here (skyrim) but I love this story” is mind boggling. I hope my writing was able to inspire someone to play the game at least once 👀

Plus, Dominic as a character is just so much fun to write. And, gratifyingly, I have been told he’s also very fun to read.

3.

Ear to the Wall (Naruto) Hatake Kakashi

Ah, my baby. One of my most successful fics ever. Topping the charts of my statistics. Raking in the bread (I wish lmao).

The fact that this story, too, started from just a one shot of a vague idea I had one day and somehow snowballed into this absolute monstrosity that so many people love is what I live for as a writer. So many people nuts enjoy reading about sick baby Kakashi tumbling blindly through his own time travel fix-it, and it breathes life into me every day.

4.

above, and beyond, and below (MDZS) Su She (OC-Insert)

Genuinely I am so proud of the way I’ve written this story. I can reread it and come across barely any points in which I feel like rewriting, which is rare! The pacing, the emotion, the character voices, the implications of future plot points… I wanna chef kiss myself with tongue for the great job I’ve been doing with this story.

Plus, the amount of people who have raged at me for making them cry with this one specifically is how I survive in this cold and cruel world 💖

5.

bundle up tight (American Dragon Jake Long) Jake

Listen, this fandom could use some new blood. Not people, I mean, just stories — I mean, the world building potential alone! It deserves more attention. The sandbox is unlimited and there’s room for more people to build castles next to my small and humble home.

I’ll come back myself and read this one, and it always brings me joy. Nostalgia paired with my own ideas in writing it just makes me feel cozy.

Honorable mentions:

Pelsitheos (Percy Jackson) Percy [time travel, canon overhaul, character motivation focus, collecting adoptable characters] WIP

cornered animals bear their teeth (SVSSS) Shang Qinghua [throat tearing, badass SQH, infatuated MBJ, just 😏] COMPLETE

Attempt #2 (Trash of the Count’s Family) Cale Henituse|Kim Rok Soo [protective papa Eruhaben, best big brother Alberu, Cale Henituse Protection Squad] COMPLETE