#i'm not sure i'll ever write it‚ but i do think about a rewrite of the movies as they are altered by all these little changes

[maulfucker]

thinking about all my au ideas where no one dies. thinking what if when shmi is "kidnapped" by the tuskens it's actually not for hostile reasons at all, but because she got hit by a stray bullet from a misfire and they took her to try to heal her. but tuskens aren't near-humans, so their medicine doesn't work very well on humans. when anakin finds shmi she is still near death, but it's clear that was not the tuskens' intention. he takes her home, and gains a new perspective about the "savages" he had always disdained.

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

hi!! so idk exactly how to describe this but i was wondering if you could write an ethan landry x fem!reader fic with a scene of ethan describing like his fantasies with the reader and what he touches himself to. idk what the story around that would be… maybe this is just something he babbles out during sex, or it could even lead to them trying out his fantasies. like i said, i dont really know. i just like the idea of ethan telling the reader what he imagines doing to her, or more accurately, what he imagines she will do to him, in order to get himself off. idk, have fun with it! tysm!!!!

Hi! If you want more to this, let me know:) I feel like it needs more, but I wanted to make sure this was in the direction you wanted it to go lol. If it's not, I can rewrite it. If it is, I'll definitely write a part 2, just let me know!

What's Your Fantasy? - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: You discover something on your boyfriends laptop, and you get curious about what his fantasies are.

A/N: I've been super busy, but I'm trying to get caught back up. My sweet bun that I've had for 7 years that always relaxed on my bed with me while I wrote passed away, so I've been a little in my feels. I hope ya'll like this:)

It was the first time that your poor boyfriend had ever been drunk. He ended up going shot for shot with Chad at a party, as you stood by watching them. Once he stopped making sour faces and yelled “This tastes like water”, you decided to leave the party early and take him home. You knew he was moments from blacking out, and in the high chance he could projectile, you preferred for it to be at his apartment and not all over the rest of the party guests.

Projectile he did, into several bushes and a random trashcan on the walk back. Once you got him back to his place, you knew you couldn’t leave him like that. You helped him get undressed and put on sweatpants before you changed into one of Ethan’s extra-large shirts that he kept specifically for you to sleep in when you stayed over. He sat in his desk chair as he started to get a little dizzy.

You grabbed a trashcan, putting it beside the bed, and grabbed some water for him. You washed your makeup off in the bathroom, before heading back to him. You were going to spoon him so he wouldn’t throw up on you, and if he moved, you knew it would wake you up. You knew exactly how the night would go, or so you thought.

“Babeeee, I don’t know if I submitted my assignments,” he said, or that’s what it sounded like he said.

“Where’s your laptop?” you asked, looking around the room for it.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?” you asked, as he stood up and stumbled to the door.

You barely made it there with him, just in time. You grabbed an ice-cold wash cloth and put it on the back of his neck, and started to rub his back as he continued to throw up. When he finally stopped, you helped him up and took him back to his bed.

“I fucking love you,” he mumbled, as you rolled your eyes at his heavily-intoxicated state.

“I love you too babe. Lay this way in case you get sick, I just need to find your laptop and I’ll cuddle with you in a minute,” you said, scanning the room before seeing a corner of it sticking out from under his bed.

You opened it and put in his password, clicking on the tab for his schoolwork. He did submit everything he was supposed to, but you saw something interesting on the other tab, so you got a little, well, very nosey. When you opened it, you saw that it was porn.

You looked over to Ethan, who was lightly snoring. You felt like you had an angel on one shoulder, telling you not to watch it. A devil on the other shoulder, telling you to see what kind of porn he liked to watch. You sort of felt like it was an invasion of his privacy, but you just had to know. You made sure the volume was low as you clicked play.

You noticed that the girl in the video, who had a few similarities to you, was giving some guy head. You thought ‘Oh, I’ve done this so many times for him’ until the end of the video, when the guy pulled out of the girl’s mouth and showered her face in his cum. Your eyes went wide as you watched it and wanted to know what else he liked to watch. You weren’t going to go through his history because you already felt bad enough about this, so you decided to have a talk with him later about things he’d like to try. You clicked back to the tab for his school stuff, before shutting his laptop and sitting it on his desk.

You crawled into the bed beside him, covering him over with a blanket and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his head, his curls tickling your face, before resting your head against his upper back as you spooned him.

You didn’t sleep well, waking up at least once an hour to check on Ethan. He slept peacefully, which you were thankful for, even if you were worried about him all night.

When he finally started to stir awake, he groaned out. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you take as many shots as you did,” you said softly, both from the exhaustion and not wanting his head to hurt worse.

“I don’t remember anything except walking into that party,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Thank you for taking care of me, baby.”

“Of course. Do you want to take something for your head?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“Please,” he sighed, as you got up to grab Tylenol from your purse.

After he took the medicine, and you knew he was okay, you desperately needed a few hours of sleep. You curled back up on your designated side of his bed, pulling the blanket over you. You quickly dozed off, as he snuggled back up to you.

When you woke up, you noticed that Ethan was no longer with you. You went to look for him and found him on the couch watching tv. He started making grabby-hands at you the second he saw you.

“Come here,” he said, grabbing your hips and pulling you down to straddle him.

“Someone’s feeling better,” you giggled as his hands rubbed your sides under his shirt you were wearing.

“I need a shower, want to join me?” he asked, as you felt him pressing against you through his sweatpants.

“I’ll race you there,” you smirked, jumping off him.

You heard his footsteps right behind you as he grabbed you by your hips and turned you to face him the second you made it to the bathroom door.

“You cheated. You had a head start,” he laughed, as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You smiled as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him. His hands ran under your big t-shirt and over the curve of you ass, pulling you even closer to him.

“I thought you wanted to shower?” you giggled, noticing the look in his eyes. The one that he always has when he so desperately wants to fuck you.

“Fineee,” he sighed, letting go of your ass as you backed away.

When you were in the shower with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about the video you watched the night before. Ethan is very confident with you, but he tends to hold back when it comes to sex. When you felt his hard cock resting against you as he kissed you under the flow of the water, your lips moved to his neck as your hand went to his erection.

“Fuck,” he said, as your hand wrapped it and started stroking.

“Hey baby?” you asked, placing kisses along his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any fantasies about me?” you questioned, innocence in your tone as your hand started to move faster. His breath hitched in his throat, both out of nervousness and how good you were making him feel. “Come on, baby. Do you ever think about things you want to do to me? Or things you want me to do to you?”

“Yes,” he answered, his breathing getting faster.

“What do you think about?” your teeth started to graze his neck, the feeling making his whimper.

“Oh fuck..uh… I love to think about cumming on your face when I’m trying to get off. And every time I see you take your birth control, it makes me want to cum inside you so bad,” he said, as you smiled against his neck. “I cum so hard whenever I think about my cum dripping out of your pussy.”

“You want me to let you cum on my face, baby?” you asked, dropping to your knees in front of him.

“No..fuck..yes I just don’t want you to think I’m degrading you,” he finally got out, as the simple licks to his tips turned to you swirling your tongue. “I don’t want you to think you have to do stuff like that to make me happy.”

You pulled away, your eyes connecting with his. “Even if I’m down here on my knees begging you for it.”

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his cock aching at your words.

“Tell me what I do to you when you think about me like this. Walk me through it, baby,” you said, leaning forward to lick his tip again.

He intently watched you as your hands went to his thighs, holding on to them as you balanced yourself. You’d always been in charge when it came to sex, just because he was usually so shy. Seeing you like this in front of him made him wish he would’ve said something sooner. Even though you initiated it, he still felt like he was in control.

“You suck on the head of my cock,” he whimpered, as you took his sensitive tip in your mouth, gently sucking.

You kept doing it, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Then you take more of it in your mouth, not too much though,” he said, eyes intently on you as you put him further in your mouth. Your head was moving back and forth, as his hand went to your hair.

“Take the whole thing, baby. I know you can do it.”

When you started to gag around him, his fingers tangled in your wet hair, as he gently thrusted into your mouth. Your wetness mixed with the water from the shower dripped down your thighs as his whimpers got louder.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing such a good job,” he praised, as you moaned around him. Your clit was throbbing as you put one of your hands in between your legs, giving your needy bundle of nerves the attention you were craving.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum. Stick your tongue out for me,” he groaned, starting to release in your mouth. He pulled back, your tongue sticking out as he stroked himself and he shot the rest of his cum on your face. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His eyes kept trying to close as the euphoric feeling washed over him, but he fought it, not wanting to miss a second of you on your knees in front of him with his cum on your face as the water started to wash it away.

You smirked as you stood back up, standing directly under the flow of the water to rinse the rest of it off your face. You grabbed your face wash, cleansing your skin with it as you felt his hands wrap around your waist.

“Did you like that?” he asked, as your mouth turned up into a sweet smile.

“You have no idea how wet I am right now.” Your lips connected with his as his hand reached between your thighs. “What else do you want to try? After we go to your room and I let you cum in me, of course.”

[whaledenwtf]

I'm such a sucker for Gale, and I want some fluff about him, maybe like what happened after or during the wedding, what would it look like? Like what would our man do

I'm such a sucker for Gale too, he's just baby. I'm not too familiar with Act 3 and the new epilogues they added but I'll do my baby justice. I'll be writing this with a female reader, so if you'd like GN! Reader I can try rewriting it.

As always, I try to keep Gale in character as much as possible. If you enjoy this fic, consider sharing it! I have requests open, which you can send here: Link I have a Masterlist for Baldur's Gate 3 works I've written, which also has a list of what I will and won't write here: Link

Gale x AFAB!Reader - Wedding Bells

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Fluff, Mentions of Anxiety, Self-Deprecation (Poor Gale), Mentions of Mystra (Mystra when I catch you Mystra), Minor Angst if you squint.

WORD COUNT: 869

Gods he was so nervous. He kept pacing back and forth, subconsciously playing with his hands.

"Are you having regrets Mr. Dekarios?" He is snapped out of his reverie by Tara, who's watching him from a distance.

"Regrets? I could never regret my relationship with (Y/N), Tara. I am just... nervous. I don't want her to change her mind, is all." He tells her honestly. Tara struts closer to him, tail swaying behind her.

"I believe you are overthinking, Mr. Dekarios. After all, don't you think she would have changed her mind before the wedding day?" He ponders that for a moment.

"I suppose you may be right, Tara. However, I've come to realize there is no such luck for a fool like me. She may have changed her mind and is running out now-" To emphasize his point, he looks out the window to see if there is a runaway bride. He exhales in relief when he doesn't see you running off. Tara scoffs.

"Are you sure you won't be the one who runs out? Show some self-respect Mr. Dekarios. You are incredibly talented and a good friend. She loves you, in case you had forgotten." Tara sits, her wings twitching.

He looks away from the window, only seeing the wedding party seated in the rows and rows of seats, alongside your companions who were interacting with one another. The door opens, and Gale's mother walks in.

"Oh thank Mystra! My little boy is getting married- I was starting to get worried." Morena wails out, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Gale rolls his eyes.

"Have you so little faith in me, mother?" She huffs, squinting at him.

"You were a recluse, Gale. A mother tends to worry when her son is aging without another by their side. I just want you happy." She tells him. He looks down, feeling guilty for worrying his mother.

"I am sorry-" Morena shakes her head.

"All is in the past now-" She claps her hands. She walks closer, giving him a once over, brushing non-existent dust off his shoulders. "I am very proud of you." She tells him quietly. He grips her in a tight hug, like a child would when they were scared. She caresses his back comfortingly, and he is filled with a sense of calmness. All his previous fears and anxieties dissipate. The door opens again. Morena lets go of Gale, giving him some space.

"Just coming in to check in. Am I disturbing something?" Gale hears your voice. Before he can take a glimpse at you, he turns around, eyes screwed shut.

"It is bad luck to see the bride before the aisle!" He shouts out. All the women giggle at him. You begin walking forward, smiling at Morena and Tara.

"We will leave you two alone. Come, Tara." They leave, closing the door behind them.

"Turn around, sweetheart. Who needs luck or gods, when we have each other?" You tell him, standing behind him. He sighs, turning around, eyes still screwed shut. You chuckle, taking his face in your hand.

"Open your eyes, Gale." He opens one eye, and his jaw drops. You were stunning; probably the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon.

"Oh-" He opens both eyes, to look you up and down, multiple times.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, eyes watering. It never felt so real until this moment, seeing you devote yourself to him. You wipe the single tear that leaves his misty eyes. He blinks multiple times, willing himself not to cry.

"You don't look too bad yourself." You tease him, grinning.

"I wanted to check on you, see if you had changed your mind?" He looks into your eyes, seeing your honesty.

"Why would I change my mind?" You shrug.

"We don't need fancy ceremonies or gold rings to show our love to one another. All I need is you by my side." He takes your hand, kissing it.

"I can never regret anything I do if it involves you, my love." You giggle at his words.

"How are you feeling?" You ask him sweetly. He bites his lip.

"I am- was very nervous. For a moment I thought you would want to cancel the wedding." You shake your head.

"I love you, Gale. I'm not going anywhere. The tadpole couldn't keep us apart; nor the Netherese Orb; and definitely not some goddess." You end the sentence bitterly. He chuckles, putting his arms around you, kissing your forehead.

"We can do this, together." He says out loud.

"Together." You whisper, leaning into his neck and kissing him there.

BONUS: You close the door behind you, leaving Gale to his thoughts. You turn to see Astarion and Wyll waiting for you. You jump, holding a hand to your heart as they scared you.

"Gods! Don't sneak up on me like that." They both chuckle.

"Did he cry?" Astarion asks excitedly. You chuckle, nodding.

"HA! Pay up Ravengard." Wyll sighs, handing over a pouch of gold to Astarion.

"I knew that sap would cry. Shouldn't have bet against me." Wyll rolls his eye.

"Alright Astarion." Wyll tells him. You smile at the two, before pulling them away from the door.

[cosmicstarlatte]

Your work is AMAZING! I hope you're proud of yourself! 💕

I was wondering if you could write how the brothers would react to finding out you're insecure about your body/ looks? I feel like Lucifer and Beel would be so so sweet to MC 🥰

Have a wonderful rest of your day and stay safe!

Thank you!!! 🥺 Sorry for the wait friend, I nervously kept rewriting this for a while 😆♡

MC Feeling Insecure (Obey Me!)

"The truth is...I've always been insecure about my body and how I look." You say, confiding in your favorite demon one day.

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: GN Reader, Fluff/Some Humor, Bulleted Style, Levi being down bad in his weird sweet way, Satan with the rizz™️

»Notes: I use beautiful+gorgeous+darling so if that bothers you then you should probably skip this!

Lucifer:

"You like to give me headaches." (Affectionate)

He just thought you knew how beautiful you are, he was surprised

The avatar of pride was going to teach you a lesson, it's what he does best after all

"We'll work through it together. I'll show you what I love about you."

And show you he did; he kissed every part of you that he loved- which was everything

He would tell you how great you looked, even in front of others

He took pride in that; it comes in many forms you see

He gave you daily affirmations and was patient with you on your bad days

One day he held your face gently and made you look at him: "I've been around for centuries and have had the opportunity to see all the realms...and I'd never met someone as beautiful as you." ♡♡♡

Mammon:

"Huh?"

He got real quiet...he was mildly annoyed

Actually, he started getting a little mad

How could you not see how perfect you are!?

Fine! Tch!

He took both your hands and looked at you intensely, knowing his face was burning

"Listen here-!"

"YoureTheMostBeautifulBeingInAllTheRealms!"

"You'rePerfection! ICantKeepMyEyesOffYou!"

Although his face was burning, he hoped in his heart that you understood how beautiful you are, it hurt him to think you thought otherwise

From then on he made an effort everyday (he hoped it helped) to tell you something he liked about you in his own Mammon way

Usually via text bc in person was too much for the tsundere sometimes

(1) New text from Mammon: Look all I'm sayin' is I know beautiful treasure when I see it, got it?

Levi:

"Ehh!?!"

He was not having it!

He thinks you're the most perfect thing ever!

The most precious thing to have ever graced his disgustingly bleak life!

He felt a little bad at his outburst, he didn't mean to disregard your feelings

He knows a thing or two about insecurities after all

But he just cannot have you thinking that way and wanted to help you if he can!

The demon otaku pulled out a ready made powerpoint on why you're the absolutely perfect 3D partner

"L-look... all in all...you're beautiful! And I'll do a-anything I can to help you see that!"

He made it a point to worship you every day no matter how nervous he was

Yes he started a fan club, yes everyone else joined

Even Henry and Cerberus were a part of it

Satan:

"Hm. To think, I didn't expect someone as gorgeous as you would actually give me the time of day."

Tbh he also understands insecurities with one's self

He didn't know you also suffered through the same; and he wasn't going to let you go through it alone

"For what it's worth, I think you're absolute perfection." He said placing a kiss on your forehead

Brought out some self help books and the two of you went through them together

He would leave you daily positive handwritten notes

That didn't stop him from telling you how gorgeous you are in person though

Asmo:

"What!? I think you're absolutely gorgeous...Do you want to talk more about it?"

He was familiar with insecurities too, unbeknownst to...nearly everyone, so he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go through this alone!

He lent an ear and reassured you that you were so perfect and that you'll see it one day like so many others do

"Do you know how many demons and monsters we have to chase off everyday!?" "What!?" "Nevermind! But darling you are downright gorgeous down to your soul!"

Your personal hype man

Started hyping you up every morning before RAD...eventually everyone started joining in, even Lucifer

Beel:

"You're perfect the way you are?"

This big guy was confused, he didn't mean to sound rude or anything to your feelings

He just wasn't prepared for your confession

He thought you were divine; if he didn't know any better he'd think you were from the celestial realm

No matter-- he was going to help you see your beauty one way or another

He hugged you tightly, "Thank you for trusting me"

He held your hand as the two of you talked and he tried to reassure you the best he could

He covered you in kisses and, if you were okay with it, gave extra attention to the parts you hated

"You're delicious in so many ways. You're really beautiful."

Looked up ways to make you feel better and made you a jar with little daily affirmation notes ♡

Like everyone else, also told you personally everyday how beautiful you are

Belphie:

"...That's dumb."

Okay, even he thought that came out a little harsher than intended...leave it to him to be blunt

"I mean, I literally dream about you and when I'm awake you're better than any dream. You're beautiful."

He hugged you in hopes of making you feel better

"Look I'm not good at these things but I'll remind you everyday how amazingly gorgeous you are, alright?"

If you happen to nap/sleep together, he will whisper sweet stuff into your ear

"I'll keep saying these things until you believe it. And continue to, even after you realize it yourself."

⬦You might also like: You ARE The Father︱Giving Him Flowers︱Only You (Lucifer) ︱Radiant (Beel)

[prince-toffee]

L I F E I S A H I G H W A Y !

Written by Prince-Toffee (me)

Art by the absolutely supreme @themazziah @cosmiccanineart

Created as part of The @spopbang 2024

Before we begin, I just want to say thank you to @themazziah for creating this absolutely gorgeous piece of art that you're looking at right now. It was so good in fact that I was inspired to rewrite the story to incorporate it into the narrative. When writers and artists were being paired up, I was sure I'd be left without a partner, but after you said that I was your first choice I was honestly so moved and touched. Thank you for picking me. Nothing I write could ever express how lovely it feels to read a kind comment like that. And that's why I'll try to get back into writing Entrapdak fics, it's been a while, and I'd love to do more, the world can never have enough Entrapta and Hordak in it. (and Glimmadora, my first time writing them, hope I did okay) Thanks, Mazz, I hope this story gives you a good few chuckles.

Second of all, thank you to all the organisers of @spopbang I may not know many people there well, but right from the start people were nothing but kind and helpful, and this event is a beautiful gift to the fandom. You guys are absolutely amazing!

Finally, on a more personal note, this is a three parter, I could only manage to finish Act One before the deadlines as I was working on my final university assignments at the same time, and now I'm finished and free! And I can't think of a better way to celebrate! I'll try to get the rest of the story out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this little space road trip.

Life Is A Highway

Act One (of Three)

~One Year After The Defeat of Horde Prime

CloneTown, or as the inhabitants of the settlement chose to dub it, Doormat, was a small shanty town at the foot of Mount Dryl on top of which Castle Dryl stood. The doormat of Dryl, of Etheria, of the universe, Adora assumed that was the intended joke. The warrior of light examined the sign closely, a hastily put together sign stood before her, it read: ‘Welcome To’ with CloneTown crossed out. A separate board, made of wood not matching the rest of the sign, was nailed underneath, on it carved crudely was ‘Doormat’. Adora never knew clones had a sense of humour, then again, it wasn't like she spent much time among them. Or at all. As She-Ra, the Protector of Etheria, she visited many villages on the continent, observed as many cultures of as many people as she could, opened her heart and reached out a helping hand to all... all except the newest refugees of Etheria. Every time she had ventured to a clone settlement, she felt unease - most villages across Etheria worshipped her (so to speak, and that invited its own unique forms of exhaustion), but when she set foot on clone grounds, she felt unwanted, which of course, she was. Perhaps the unease emerged from the fact that all the staring eyes that silently watched her stroll into town as she did so now, all belonged to the same face, the face of her old master. One she worshipped in her youth, but no longer. But that didn't matter now, now she was walking down the muddy roads of Doormat, and attracting quite a few puzzled, angered glares. Adora approached in her normal form, strolling up as a 9-foot-tall glowing, radiant, goddess might have been a bit too much. Not that it mattered too much as she still stuck out like a sore thumb, she was the only non-clone in the village, nothing she could do about that. The warrior was cloaked in torn and tattered robes, a hood obscuring her face, so at least they didn't know who she was.

Soon enough the Warrior of Grayskull happened upon her destination, Bar Nefcy, a local, clone-ran establishment. She got a bit lost, but Entrapta’s directions were correct. There was a hanging sign spelling out the bar’s name in uncharacteristically bright pink paint. Almost acting as a centrepiece of the town. From what she heard about it, the establishment acted as a sort of neutral ground for clones: regs, defects, and whatever came between. And as she entered the establishment, she wondered whether that mentality and ideology would extend to her. And almost immediately she got her answer as the chatter throughout the room stopped, all the various patrons turned to look at her, a sea of red and green eyes staring into her. She wasn't exactly scared, if anything came down to violence, she had plenty to keep herself safe, including the enormous broadsword channelling cosmic energy that would transform her into the most powerful woman in the universe. Adora made her way over to the barline and sat herself down, each of her footsteps making the wooden floor creak, which could be heard over the silence.

She attempted to stay invisible and stay silent until her contact would show up, however that turned out to be unlikely as she caught a glimpse of her bartender, a small “Oh!” escaped her and she immediately regretted it, and felt awful about it. Adora’s bartender did not look like a regular clone, he was downright bizarre, he was overgrown with vines, flowers, and moss, all intertwined and weaved into the clone’s being. Where his eyes would be, now two thick vines ran outward spreading into a patch of moss and grass atop his head. Effectively rendering the man, blind. Admittedly, she stared for a bit too long, but she didn't think he'd know.

“Well?!”

“?”

“I may be as blind as a bat, but my hearing is as good as ever. I heard you walk in and sit down, the floorboards are on purpose. So? What’ya want?”

Adora gulped, and put on her best diplomatic voice, “No drink for me, sir. I only ask permission to stay in your bar for- I don't know, uh, a few more minutes. I'm meeting a... friend, shall we call him. A clone. I'm a friend! An ally!” Whoof. She never had to pull that card out before. The bartender didn't seem to look convinced. The diplomatic voice slipped halfway through all that. “Please.” She finished with an awkward smile on her pinched face.

“Uh huh, look this is a clone-establishment, not for… natives. You're unsettling my clientele, so if you'd be so kind and find the exit as I can't, ya know on the account of a magic flower growing out of my face. Good day, Princess.” Wait he knew? How? Was her voice that recognisable?

Just then another voice rose from the back of the bar, from a far corner booth, “Ah, come on Manny! I thought this was a ‘neutral ground’ and whatnot. You gonna denie the guy their poison? They're just trying to get through today like the rest of us.” The bartender, who Adora now knew was named Manny, groaned in annoyance, if he could roll his eyes, he would have. Adora turned around to see where the voice was coming from. There, far in the back, in the corner booth, set an elderly patron a clone no doubt, he spoke with the same voice. But he too looked downright bizarre, unlike all the other clones. This clone was thin, like a skeleton, he looked sickly. (A defect, they were called, she believed, though not entirely sure). The lower half of his face looked normal enough, well for a clone that was. But the top half of his head was a glass-like red dome with some strange displays flashing inside like a radar monitor. And not only that, protruding out of his face was a long witch-like nose, sharp as a knife. Almost as sharp as the red teeth that formed a, what was meant to be a friendly, smile.

The clone wore a mechanical suit (of armour?) that framed his skeletal features. His feet were kicked up on top of the table. His feet resembled… clamps? Like mechanical vulture talons. There was another clone at the corner booth with them, but they had their back turned to Adora, they were clearly uninterested in this interaction. The vulture-like clone stood up and wobblingly made his way over to Adora. It was clear he was drunk. But from Manny’s reaction she gauged that this was his default state. The bird-like man spoke up again, “Leave the freak alone. ‘Serve all, not one’, right?” The woman noticed that the clone acted as if he had a cup or glass in his hand... But he didn't, there was no drink in his curved hand.

“V,” Manny spoke, so that was his name, “Should have known this freak was with you, something always happens when you're around here. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you always bring it here. So why don't you take your royal friend, and go lead trouble away from here.”

“I won't cause any trouble, I promise.” Adora proclaimed, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, she placed the page onto the table and slid it over to Manny. “I'm actually here on behalf of the Queen, to hand you this Establishment License to let you run your business officially... it was illegal before, just so you know. As a show of gratitude and togetherness.” Adora gave her best smile. Manny just looked at the piece of paper and groaned, he turned around and walked off with the paper in hand, grumpy. Adora swivelled around back to V, she awkwardly thanked them, “Hey, thanks, uh, V was it? For taking my side. And I'm sorry I caused a commotion here.”

“Eh,” He waved dismissively, “Don't take it too personally kid, Manny over there's still a little peeved that you turned him and a bunch of others into walking compost heaps back when you turned The Velvet Glove into a giant tree, heh.”

“I- I did that to him?”

“Oh, not just him, every clone hibernating in a pod and whatnot. Thousands.”

“Oh, gods, what have I done.” She murmured to herself, she combed through her hair, a thousand yard stare on her face. “I'm so sorry... I didn't know I was unwelcome.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “Don't take that too personally either, neither is he.” V pointed behind him with his thumb towards the doorway. Adora followed the thumb to the silhouette in the door frame. Hordak. Her drinking partner had arrived.

The Ex-Lord of the Horde entered the establishment and silence befell the bar once more, the collective of eyes glared at him and followed him as he slowly made his way over to the warrior Princess. Not too different of a reaction that they greeted Adora with. V just then realised there wasn't a drink in his hand and so he moved out of the way to give Hordak room to sit down next to Adora. He did so. The villain maintained silence, Adora thought it was to seem intimidating, but in reality he simply had no idea how to talk to people, and was too awkward to be the one to begin the conversation.

Hordak was cloaked in a black cape and hood. His blue, curly, fringe poking out from under the hood. Another thing she just now noticed about Hordak was that his eyes were different, usually fully blood red with black makeup around, just now realising that those must have been contact lenses of some sort, because now she witnessed his real eyes. Soft and organic rather than the glass shields which is what their texture usually looked like. Now his corneas were fully pitch black with black pupils and bright blood red irises, the way they shifted about it somehow made him far more emotive. He was clad in matte black and gun metal grey plated armour with neon red highlights running throughout. No Horde symbol on his chest plate however, The Wings of The Vampire where nowhere to be seen. What Adora didn't see was the First One's crystal embedded within his armour powering his entire suit. He wore the same double slit dress he always wore, thighs on full display. That was certainly a choice.

Adora spoke up first, “Sooo, ahem, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you.”

“Yes.” He spoke with his deep, smooth voice, “Entrapta, my dearest, did not disclose why you wished to meet. And why here of all places. I am usually summoned to BrightMoon by the Queen.”

“Weeeell, I thought meeting here might make you feel more comfortable. Heard this place serves drinks to anyone, guess... guess not.”

“Hmm, indeed. I do not drink here. I am unwelcome. I do not blame anyone for that belief. My shunning is just.”

“I thought you'd be a hero to your people, especially after killing Prime and all.”

“You killed Prime. I'm surprised many of my brothers haven't turned to worship you She-Ra Adora.”

“It's just Adora. And more people ‘worshipping’ me is the last thing I want.”

“And as to why many of my brothers hate me? Well, everyone has their own reasons. For many I will always be that authority figure, a High-General, sending them off to their deaths. For others, like Manny here, good man that Manny, they believe my... ‘campaign’ here has led to your people hating them. I destroyed any chance of a peaceful coexistence. I am keen to agree with him.”

Adora didn't disagree, but there was more to it. She did not want to unpack all of it just yet so she chose to instead change the topic of conversation, “Hordak. The reason I wanted to meet with you... I have a job for you.”

“I imagined as much. However, it is usually the Queen who imparts assignments upon me and my brothers. Why this- breaking of routine?”

“Because this concerns the Queen. This ‘job’ isn't her idea, it's mine, in fact, it took a lot of convincing to get her onboard.”

“And the mission is?”

“A road trip, so to speak.”

Hordak quirked his brow. “Ooooh-kay.”

“There is an Intergalactic Conference in the Summit solar system, few galaxies away. Glimmer needs to attend in the next few days. It's quite possibly the most important event in Etheria’s history.”

“And what does the conference pertain to? If I may ask?”

“Securing Etheria’s status in the universe. Glimmy wants to appeal to The Council of The Known Universe and have Etheria recognised as a developed-enough world to join The Council. Ever since Etheria had been freed from Despandos it has been at the mercy of the rest of the universe. As a magical mediaeval world, Etheria’s has been seen by the rest of the universe as ‘underdeveloped’ and ‘primitive’ and as ‘defenceless’. Becoming a part of The Council will grant us safety. Their technology advancements. Limitless food and medicine - access to planets they’ve constructed dedicated solely to agriculture and harvesting. Respect among other worlds. Protection from other tyrants across the cosmos like Prime. Make sure it never happens again. The Council of The Known Universe, turns out, was established to create a barricade against tyrant empires like Prime and The Galactic Horde. Etheria needs protection like that, but there's a problem.”

Hordak placed a hand against his chin as he pondered on the matter, “The Primusians.”

“Yes. You've heard?”

“I have, through the ‘grapevine’ as you would call it; clones talk, or think (telepathically), especially here. V doesn't keep anything to himself. Primus pirates have been assaulting crafts around the system, many of them clones seeking home off-world. They've been quite active since our ‘stunt’ with the Minister of Armament and Defence. You're afraid they have their sights set on the Queen. Making transporting her a major risk.”

“Yeah, you got it. I knew you'd catch on.” Hordak shot her an inquisitive look as well as a bombastic side eye, “Anyway, the plan is to send a new unmanned decoy ship on the route to the conference. Pirates explode it, and hopefully they'll think the bodies got incinerated.”

“That's that then.” Hordak remarked satisfied.

“Yeah, except Glim still needs to make it to Summit. And that's where you, and your... team comes in. I hear you have a ship, don't know how, but you do. You'll escort Glim on the longer way around the Black Donut system and deliver her to the conference on time.”

“That will take days.”

“One week exactly. One way each. That's why I’m here now, the Queen’s orders.”

“It does not sound like the Queen would be thrilled about this idea. My brothers can be... a lot.”

“She isn't. But she knows it's the right thing to do.”

Hordak sighed. “Adora why would I-“

“Because you owe me.” She suddenly became incredibly serious, her glare at Hordak hardened, and Hordak fell silent. He really did. Freeing him from Prime’s influence. Dropping in a good word for him at his trial. He most likely wouldn't have been with Entrapta at all without her. He simply nodded in agreement. “And... because I love her.”

“And you would trust me to keep her safe?”

“The same way I'll keep Entrapta safe while you're gone... So? Deal?”

-        - -

Day One (of Seven)

“No. No deal.” Glimmer remarked defeated. “This is a bad- ugh- I don't like this plan, just stating that for the record.” The Queen of BrightMoon spoke to the holo-pad, arguing with the screen. On the other side of the screen was a smiling but slightly scared Adora. Glimmer marched through the corridors of Castle Dryl, the never-ending labyrinth, that Glimmer was 80% sure was constantly shifting, trying to confuse her. It didn't help that she was constantly going down, deeper into the mountain. Entrapta was the master of traps after all. But Glimmer continued on her path anyhow. She had a map display hovering over the holo-pad that clearly outlined where to go. And surely this wasn't a trap, a planned scheme to assassinate her, right?

“I know what you're thinking; It's not a trap.”

“I- wasn't thinking... that.” She squinted at the map overhead, “I swear the corridors are moving, how is that even possible. It also doesn’t fill me with confidence that Entrapta called this, ‘The Basement’.” The monarch wore her traditional purple outfit, glittering cape, golden accents around the belt, shoulder pauldron, and of course her royal tiara. Her stern look faded away and a sadness took its place. “Why couldn't you’ve come with me?”

“~Oh, StarLight, I'm sorry. I want to always be at your side, and I would be if I could. But the strange signals emanating from the Crystal Castle, it could mean LightHope’s back. And if LightHope is back, which her is she? And why would she be transmitting off-world?”

“So you'll be on the other side of the universe.”

“As soon as I'm done I'll B-line it to you. Just- just wait for me. You're in good hands until then.”

“...I wish I could hold you, I miss you already.” Glimmer's words brought a warm smile to the She-Ra’s face. Adora turned away, avoiding eye contact, a blush rising across her face.

“I miss you too. But please, trust me, it'll be okay.” Adora turned to look at something out of the holo-pad’s view, she sighed, “I have to go. I love you. See you in a week.”

And the transmission terminated.

Glimmer sighed. Already missing Adora’s voice. She believed she was approaching her destination, a large mechanical door stood before her. The GPS on her holo-pad indicated that she had reached ‘The Hangar’. “Okay.” She accepted the journey ahead with one word. Glimmer swiped the touchscreen on her whole pad, the bypass code got transmitted to the control panel at the doors ahead. The green light indicated the door unlocking. And the metal doors slid upward with a hiss. A light spilled into the corridor, so much so Glimmer had to shield her eyes with her hand. She took a step inside and almost tripped over immediately. She looked back to see what it was, and noticed that the floor was littered with a variety of… strange and seemingly unrelated things; Pipes, cables, and various other pieces of machinery, she guessed. There were also art supplies; Paint buckets, brushes, canvases, and spray cans. As she turned around to face forward once again she ducked immediately as she was almost closelined by a low hanging clothing line, various photographs hung up along it. Various landscapes from the brief glimpse that Glimmer caught of it.

“Look out.” A familiar voice called out, but it came from an unfamiliar character. Glimmer followed the voice to match it to the clone face. The man wasn’t even looking at her, which meant she must have yelped quite loudly at some point. She re-composed herself and made her way to the clone, the closer she got, the more details revealed themselves to her. The man was, in fact, a clone, he had the same voice and Hordak’s face, but that was almost where the similarities ended. The tuft of hair on top of his head was dyed in a patchwork of every colour, it was quite strange seeing all that colour on a clone. But the most defining characteristic was the fact that he was wheelchair bound due to his two missing legs, amputated just above the knees. The defect was sat in front of a sizable canvas, a paintbrush in hand and in the middle of creating a new painting. The painting was, no doubt about it, gorgeous. It depicted Doormat, at the foot of Mount Dryl. The light that had blinded Glimmer earlier when she entered had come from the massive open hangar bay doors letting the daylight in. She assumed that was where he got the photos and references from.

“It's beautiful.” She remarked.

“What? This? Thank you, but no, it's just a warm up, and it's hideous. I think I might be having an off day. See that tree?” The clone pointed to a perfectly fine tree on the painting.

“Right.” She should have probably introduced herself, “I'm-“

“Cargo.” He finished.

“Not how I'd like to put it. But yeah, I- uh- I’m Glimmer.”

“I know. You’re the Queen. You send me and my brothers on suicide missions.”

“Yeah... uhmm, yes, soooorry about that, and you are?”

“Moe.”

“Moe. I'll- I'll remember that. Is Hordak here?”

“He's with Entrapta, doing… whatever mad-scientists do. Making time travelling microwaves that send your meal forward in time to when it's already done?”

“Heh, it's Entrapta, it wouldn't surprise me. She can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The joke seemed to resonate with the artist, he smiled, “We're taking off soon, Dak’ll be down in a bit, feel free to get set up on the ship, try getting used to it, the trip’ll be a few days long.”

“Thanks.”

Glimmer turned to the ship in question, The Annihilation it was called. It was a Horde troop carrier dropship repurposed as a mobile home to The Defects as they recently began calling themselves. Looks like they were really owning it. The dropship had a new paint job, no doubt thanks to Moe, an angry face painted over the cockpit, angry eyes and a row of sharp teeth. And a mural on the side of the hull, abstract, but unfinished, she presumed. The ship had Christmas lights hung up all along it, a TV satellite dish on top, and a footpath leading to the lowered ramp into the loading bay. The Annihilation was surrounded by a white picket fence, turf of fake grass, a small cheap fountain (kinda ugly, with a gnome spitting out water at the centre). And a mailbox at the front, not that anyone ever sent in any mail, it was all very cute however.

The Queen of Light made her way into the loading bay, up the ramp, and quickly realised it was... A living room? A TV, a couch, and a carpet. All bolted down so it wouldn't fly out presumably. She was surprised at the mundanity of it all, she was expecting something far more alien or militaristic. While her head was in the clouds she tripped yet again. She growled at her own clumsiness, “What? Do I have two left feet today? What now?” She looked down at what had tripped her up and she almost jumped out of her skin. It was a man, slumped over, on the ground, leaning against a wall, a cable lodged into the back of his head. He was silent, he wasn't moving. Glimmer’s thoughts raced madly; He's dead. They killed someone and stuffed him into their ship. She was looking at a corpse right now!

Then a voice came from above, “Heh, you know that happened to me once.” She looked up to see a skinny man hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, he smiled with his bright red fangs, “Mortar shell. Blew me into pieces. Turns out I grabbed someone else’s leg! HA!”

“...Wh- What?”

“Two left feet! We all match so the joints just pop in! Customizable action figures, batteries sold separately.” V cackled to himself as he descended from the ceiling and landed before the monarch. Glimmer wasn't sure how to respond, or what she was looking at, some sort of birdman? She was at a loss for words, since her mind was still on the potential corpse at her feet. “V.” He indicated himself with his hand.

“Is this a dead body?!” She pointed to the clone on the floor in panic and anguish. V craned his neck to look past the Queen. V waved it off matter of factly.

“Eh, don't worry about Drag. Kid’s just taking a nap.”

“So I shouldn't be worried?”

“Oh, well, no, you definitely should. ‘Nap’ so to speak. The truth is far more horrifying. You see little Drag is in a state of constant rapid brain degradation the curjigger he's hooked up to continuously recreates his brain through... woff nanobots? I don't know, Dak’s the one who does machines. The boy fainted not long ago, so he'll be out for a good while.”

“How long is he usually out for?” She still asked panicked.

“Uh, I don't know, varies, sometimes hours, sometimes days, whatever the story needs really. I'm sure he'll be back by the third act.”

“... What are you talking about?”

“I don't know. Anyways, make yourself at home, but not too much, the chaotic mess is on purpose.”

“The ‘I know where everything is’ type of organisation system?”

“What? No, I don't know where anything is, it's just to annoy Hordak. Sometimes I dump buckets of mud and dust inside just to see how furrowed his brows can get. Ha! He gets so angry.”

Glimmer just now noticed that V had patted the couch as he made his ‘make yourself at home’ statement. “Wait, I'm… sleeping on the couch?” She remarked in disbelief.

“Weeell, yeah, what did you expect?”

“A room?!”

“Ahhh... No. Heh. No.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Hey, it's not that bad, this is the best spot on Anni! You got a perfect view of the TV (which has channels from the next three galaxies). A few itchy blankets and who knows what wonders hide between the couch cushions; Just today I found Drag’s goldfish’s food... Oh shoot, I knew I forgot something.” He tapped his chin.

“I'm in Hel. I died, and now I'm in Hel.”

“HA! Not yet. But The End is coming. Soon!” V waltzed away saluting her away as he ventured off to check up on his younger brother’s fish.

“Wait! Can't I have Drag’s room? Or is his room the corridor?” She asked sarcastically.

“Sorry, Candy Floss, he ain't interchangeable. You’ll just have to deal with it.” The doors to Drag’s bedroom closed and he was out of earshot.

“...Great. Perfect. Great idea, Adora. Thanks, hun.”

-        - -

“I wish you could stay.” Entrapta sadly remarked.

Hordak took a moment to reply, he looked away and down, “... As do I, Beloved.”

It was another day, another mission and once again the universe had decided to tear them apart as it often did. It was especially bittersweet and tragic as the couple had plans for today, family picnic, so to speak. Entrapta sighed as she soldered the motherboard in front of her, their mask down and covering her face, “I was really looking forward to working on the power couplings for the hyper light telescope. I bet we can see the Lynks system from here! I heard rumours that they've managed to construct an entire artificial star! It powers their two nearest colonies!... I- I can wait for you... And we could do it together when you get back, how long can the escort be? Two?- Three days?” She tried to keep up a genuine smile.

“We estimate a week to the Summit system, and one week to return.” Hordak hid most of himself under his cape like a weighted blanket, “I know how much you love star gazing, you shouldn't have to wait for me. You should enjoy yourself without me.” He reached out for Entrapta’s hand. Entrapta let go of the soldering iron, and accepted the taloned hand of her partner. The Ex-Lord of the Horde softly massaged her hand, his thumb moving in circles.

She gently squeezed Hordak’s hand in return, “But I'd love for you to be with me. Us, together, you know?” She snuggled into Hordak’s chest, leaning her head against him. Dak held her hand and placing his other hand against Entrapta’s back, a gentle touch, “That's the life I wanted for us.” She murmured lowly, almost a purr.

“I know.” Hordak spoke solemnly.

“...It feels like we're apart every day now. I thought things would get better… and here you go again.”

“I know. But this request- it came from-“

“Adora, I know.” Entrapta lifted her mask, revealing a small smile, “That's the only thing I like about this.” That made Hordak raise one of his brows, “You, opening up to her, it's cute. She's a good girl. I'm glad you're making new friends.” She patted Hordak’s chest.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far-“

“Hordak.”

“Ah!” Hordak jumped, scared by the voice inside his head. The clone turned around to find Lee, another one of his brothers, just standing there – Menacingly. “Lee! How did you- ? Where? Why?!”

“We have a problem.”

*Italics indicate telepathy – Toffee*

“What?”

“The Queen is currently in our home.”

“Yes, she is the cargo.”

“…Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because you wouldn't have liked it.”

“We are transporting (possibly) the most powerful woman in the universe - that is going to turn heads, and paint a target on our backs. Are we not meant to be secret task force?”

“That is why we and the She-Ra are the only individuals aware of this mission. And, were you not the one who urged me to establish a more trusting relationship with the rulers of this world? Do you not think that a favour such as this would aid in improving relations between clones and natives?” Lee pondered on it, he nodded. He would have grunted if he could, unfortunately for Lee, his entire lower jaw was missing. By far his most noticeable and unique feature.

“...Sooo? Are we-? Is this-? Are we done? I'm just getting half of the conversation here, just so you know.” Entrapta poked in.

Suddenly V also appeared out of nowhere behind Hordak, “Hey we have a problem.”

“Gahhh! Where did you?! How- What?! Ugh. Yes, we know; the Queen.” Hordak face palmed.

“What? No. It's Drag’s goldfish, it's dead.”

“What? I thought you were feeding it.”

“I thought Lee was feeding it.”

“Well, I thought Moe was feeding it.”

Hordak sighed, face in his hands, “Fine, we'll figure it out on the road, just go, get out of here.”

Lee just looked at him, and turned away, “I'll be on the ship. I'm assuming all the relevant mission information is on board?” Hordak nodded. “Then I will be there, studying.” And the clone disappeared as soon as he appeared. V followed.

“He's scary good at that.” Entrapta remarked.

“Hmm.”

“I don't think he likes me.”

“They’ll come around...”

Both of them stood there for a moment, in silence. “So... you should probably get going.” Entrapta remarked sadly, not ready to let go again so quickly.

“Mmm.” Hordak looked around the lab, “Where is Imp? I wished to say goodbye to him before departing.”

“Probably hiding, lil rascal hates to see you go. He misses you you know.”

“I know…” A sadness washed over his face. 

“Look, I know you're at work, the last thing you need up there is me. But-”

“I would spend my entire life at your side! I love your voice. I adore your beautiful mind. And worship your heart for all the love you have offered me. You are not a hindrance!”

“Okay, okay, haha.” She looked down at the ground with a warm blush on her cheeks, “I know, I get it.”

“You think so little of yourself, I know how you are. And I do not appreciate it.” He landed a soft kiss on his partner's cheek. Which drew a chuckle from her.

“OK, OK, enough! You know I can't take compliments!” She exclaimed joyously as she smooshed his cheeks with her soft gloved hands.

“It is my duty as your lab partner to remind you of your worth, your beauty and your wonder, and that is just a scientific fact. Now, what- uh- what were you going to say before I rudely interrupted?”

From a large pouch on her utility belt Entrapta fished out a small Rubik’s cube-like object, which shifted in her palm and unfolded into a large two-handed holo-pad, and handed it over to Dak, “You know how I've been working on the intergalactic communications array?! So, I've been working on downsizing it and managed to incorporate it into a screened device - this holo-pad will allow us to stay in touch, even worlds apart. It’s only a prototype, of course, but it should work perfectly.”

What a loving gift. Entrapta always bestowed such wonderful presents, Perfuma proclaimed that it was her love-language. Hordak did not understand what that meant exactly, but his mind wondered, how could he further ‘communicate’ in this ‘language’? “Beloved, I- This is a most thoughtful gift, but... it is standard protocol to not take any contraband that could possibly link us to and could be traced back to Etheria in case the ship is breached... but, I suppose with the literal Queen of Etheria on board, that rule does not apply.” He smiled. Entrapta matched the smile.

“I will call you, when you're on your way, later today.” She raised on her tippy-toes and kissed her tall partner on the cheek, “Keep you company.”

“I would appreciate it.”

         Hordak and Entrapta lost themselves in each other's eyes as they often did, they wordlessly embraced in a warm hug. Their foreheads found each other, eyes closed, they allowed themselves to smile just a little.

         “I love you.”

         “I love you, more.”

         “Scientifically impossible, I love you far more.”

         “No, I love you more!” They giggled softly to each other.

-        - -

Glimmer had unpacked, to the best of her abilities, that is to say she was pecking at one of her packed lunch sandwiches and marked the couch as her territory by placing her luggage all over it. The Queen was now just sitting on the couch, slouched. This was going to be a long trip, she could tell. So she tried to distract herself by glueing herself to the TV. Unfortunately, the channel she was watching was broadcasting from an alien system with a language she did not understand. She could infer from the tone of the voice and the acting what was going on. It was some sort of telenovela, ooorr a reality TV show? No, Glimmer had no idea where the remote was. So that was it, her life for the next week. Hopefully Adora and the rest of the Princesses would take her on the way back after the conference.

         “Oh, nice, that's a good episode.”

         “What?” She turned back to see V standing behind her like a dad at a BBQ over a grill, a coffee mug in hand.

         “Sapphire Lakes. Great show. A handful of wealthy women who pretend to be friends are locked up in a small lake house for a week where they scream, lie and backstab each other for a cash prize. It's truly peak television. Tiffany's just confronting Jade about cheating with Keith.” He pointed gleefully at the screen.

         “How do you know all this? It's not even in Etherian?”

         V taped the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, wait, did he even have ears? “Air-Vibration Translators. Convert any nearby language to clone speak.”

         “Huh.”

         “Your majesty.” Glimmer’s eyes followed the voice to the clone entering the drop ship, it was Hordak. Long black cape covering his body and draping behind him on the floor. His battle armour underneath, no longer bearing the symbol of the Horde, but rather the symbol of Dryl, purple gear with a star at its centre. Proud property of his wife. 

         “Hordak, finally. I wanted to speak with you.” Glimmer spoke up.

         “Lee here?” Dak turned to V.

         “Yeah, he’s in.” V replied, still glued to the TV screen.

         “What? I didn't see anyone enter.” Glim remarked confused.

         “Yeah, that's Lee. If he wants to, you won't see him all week.” V shrugged.

         “One can only hope.” She murmured.

         “I see you've already gotten acquainted with the crew. Uh- Make yourself at home, I suppose. We depart soon.”

         “Uh- Thanks...”

         “...”

         “...”

         “...Soooo, How- uh- how are you?...”

         “Yeah, I'm- I'm good- I'm alright... How... Are you?”

         “Good. Good...

         “... Yeah.”

         “... Alright, let's go.” He awkwardly turned around and departed to the ship's cockpit.

         V stopped on the way, “Hey, Daky, beloved brother of mine, my favourite person in the whole wide cosmos.”

         “What do you want?” Hordak sounded tired already.

         “Can I drive?”

         “No.”

         “I'm a pilot! I was a pilot back in the day! I'm good at flying. I'm a pilot... Can I-?”

         “You are not touching my ship.”

         “But you let Entrapta work on the ship!?”

         “That, dear brother, is because she's competent.”

         Glimmer huffed as she leaned against the couch cushions, “This is going to be a long week.” She returned to her slouching.

         Hordak marched up the small steps that led to the cockpit which was a narrow space; and sat one on the front seat, the pilot seat from which one would steer the ship via the steering wheel and the numerous unlabelled buttons covering the control panels on either side of the wheel, some blinking, some not. (How Hordak knew to press what, was beyond this trans-fourth-dimensional narrator.) V attempted to flick a switch, but his hand was slapped away by Dak, who didn't even take his eyes off the panel. V frowned like a toddler that was denied cookies from their mom, and he fell down onto the back seat of the cockpit, the navigator seat. The navigator would advise routes throughout space and monitor the status of the ship.

         A finger taped Glimmer on the shoulder, she turned to see Moe, now on board, “Can I take some of these?” He asked, pointing to the pillows on the couch.

         “Uh, yeah, sure.” She handed the clone the pillows, and watched him make his way to Drag. Moe climbed down from his wheelchair and gently moved his brother to lean forward, still unconscious, and placed a pillow behind his head. He wanted to lift his younger brother and place another pillow under him, but Moe, being a defect, was unable to lift his weight. So, he was surprised when Drag did lift up. He looked up surprised to see that Glimmer had lifted the comatose clone up by the underarms. Moe was pleasantly shocked for a moment, but continued and placed a pillow for Drag to sit on and one to lean against. Glimmer lowered him, and helped Moe up onto his wheelchair. And pushed his wheelchair to the couch.

         “Thanks- Bay doors.” He pointed to a big red button with a lock image on it. Glimmer pressed it, and the ship’s ramp receded in and the heavy shutter doors sealed them in, and would seal the void of space out. “Thanks.”

         “No problem.” They returned to the couch.

         “He's always sore when he wakes up.” He remarked worryingly. The gesture was cute, that little act of kindness surprised Glimmer.

         V’s voice echoed through the ship, “Non-clones and gentle-clones please take your seats as we're about to rocket ourselves into the void of space through a wall of fire surrounding the planet, so we're all probably going to die, so say your prayers to whatever deity you believe in, won't matter though because we live in a nightmare world where there truly is no god.” He announced cheerfully. A loud smack could be heard and an “Ouch.” from V.

         Hordak’s voice came through, “Ignore him.”

         “You’ll get used to that,” Moe spoke up, “That's like Dak’s catch phrase.”

         “Is your brother, the bird one, always like that?”

         “No, he's usually worse. He's on good behaviour since we have a guest over.”

         “Are we- going to experience some turbulence? No offence to your brother but anything he makes is usually held together by duct tape. Are we about to turn into a giant fireball? He loves big fiery explosions.” Glimmer asked concerned, recollecting about the Fright Zone.

         “HehHa! Yeah that sounds like Hordak, alright.” He wheeled himself over to a front corner of the ship which had a standing canvas, some small cabinets at the side supposedly housing some art supplies. There was also a small circular window at the corner framing the view of the outside. “The Annihilation has been through a lot, but you won't find a more reliable (and lucky) ship in The Holy Armada! You won't even feel the take off.”

         “How do you know?” Glimmer asked unconvinced.

         “Come take a look.” He just pointed to the window. Glimmer, confused, waltzed over to the window, her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. A blue surface, rippling and kicking up as the ship zoomed past; a river, then fields of trees, zipping by. They had already launched. Mount Dryl shrinking into the distance.

         They had launched from the side of the mountain, out of the hangar bay doors, cloaked by Entrapta’s holographic disguise field. Soon they surpassed the clouds, and pierced into the atmosphere. For a moment the window became coated in fire and flame. And then it passed, and now the Queen of Light stared out into an endless black void reaching out into infinity. Across the blackness were white speckles; stars, distant suns, sustaining worlds and civilizations all of their own, Etheria a distant speck to them all.

         Before they could leave Etheria behind there was one obstacle left; a barrier of warships guarding the planet from the upper atmosphere. An impenetrable wall of hull and fire power. The most powerful warships that side of the galaxy. After the Fall of Prime over a year ago the clones were freed from his control, left to aimlessly wander Etheria - for the first time in their lives without purpose. The clone population was stranded on Glimmer’s magical world, the Princess Alliance weren't about to just let their invaders take back their war machines and leave to who knows where, or worse, turn the weapons back against Etheria. So, at first the warships over Etheria were disabled. But over the following months, as Entrapta established communications with various systems, and rumours began to spill out. A sizeable number of them coming from the clone grapevine. The refugee clones slowly began to form pockets of community around Etheria. The Princess Alliance never stood against it, and even helped establish those pockets, BrightMoon was always involved in combating homelessness, a programme started by Glimmer’s mother, often allowing homeless citizens take shelter and live within the walls of BrightMoon castle.

         Within the clone settlements many managed to establish contact with the outside, smuggling becoming a major enterprise. Clones being the main item smuggled off world. Through Hordak various rumours reached her; Word of various larger neighbouring systems eyeing Etheria with watering mouths. Smaller less developed planets often fell prey to larger powers, Glimmer wasn't about to let that happen. And the answer was right under her nose. The clones knew how to operate the worships, of course they'd be supervised by BrightMoon knights, but to her pleasant surprise the clones dedicated themselves to their posts rather quickly and without much convincing or argument. They were desperate for a mission, for a purpose. And so, Glimmer gave them one; Protecting their new home.

Glimmer sighed, “I'm going to be honest I would’ve felt much better about this if the starships could escort us... No offence, uh…”

“Moe.”

“Moe.”

“Short for Mosquitor.”

“Oh.”

“I'm guessing the point of all of this is to stay unseen, and not to attract much unwanted attention.”

“It is. Heh, not to mention the reason why we're going to The Council of the Known Universe is to make allies, it’d be hard to do that if we just pulled up with a starship overhead. Don't want to prove the threats and fear mongering rumours correct.”

“Didn't you just reason your way out of the predicament?”

“I suppose I did.”

“Also, those aren't starships, heh, you haven't seen a Starship yet. Warships of The Holy Armada are impressive, no doubt about it. But starships are unfathomably enormous. Giant rings, large enough to surround an entire sun, draw power from it, often acting as a shipyard constructing warships for the Prime’s endless conquest. They’re pretty, in a horrifying kind of way.”

Glimmer couldn't even imagine something of that scale. Things like that often made Glimmer put things into perspective of how small and secluded Etheria was. How little she was in the vastness of the cosmos. It frightened her, but she chose not to think about it. But unbeknownst to the Queen that phobia had led her actions subconsciously. Many people are guided by fear, even kings and Queens, whether they know it or not. Glimmer, whether right or wrong, was stepping along the path of fear.

Glimmer’s eyes scoured the dark space and managed to spot a small brush of green among the canvas of black, the only spot of colour in space. “Huh.”

Moe took note of the response, “What? The Velvet Glove? Huh, looks different than when I last saw it, greener!”

“Yeah, that might have been my and my friends’ doing. My… friend, Adora, kinda,” Glimmer scratched the back of her head, “Turned the ship into a giant tree.”

“With many of our brothers still within.”

“Yeah, sorry about thaaAAHHH!” The Queen of Light embarrassingly shrieked as she noticed a third figure standing behind them silently. A man missing his lower jaw. He narrowed his blood red eyes, their wrinkles around his eyes more visible. Glimmer covered her mouth like an old Victorian maiden. “Sorry. My bad. Sorry. Hehe.” Lee seemed unamused. The old clone’s pupils lit up and he turned to Moe. Moe turned back to face him, his pupils lit up too. The two stared at each other without a single word spoken for a moment or two. Glimmer’s eyes shifted between the two. Are they buffering? What's going on?

Moe returned his gaze to the Queen, “He– ugh, welcomes you on board and wishes you a pleasant stay. And is honoured to be in the presence of royalty, especially one of whom allows us to stay on your world.”

Lee signed with his hands, clearly some sort of sign language, Glimmer managed to make out some of it, but not enough to further the conversation, “I'm sorry I don't know sign language, I- I should but I don't.” She remarked sadly.

Moe translated for his brother, “He just wants to discuss with you- uh- some matters.” He sounded a little awkward and nervous. Lee gave him an angry look for not translating fully. Moe just shrugged.

Outside across the depthless night a streak of light zipped across their view, Hordak spotted it, and moved to tail the craft. It was the decoy ship. As a mediaeval planet-locked civilization BrightMoon had no spaceships with which to cross galaxies. Which was why Adora got Entrapta to step in, and she was all too overjoyed about it. Being the genius she was, Entrapta fished out a crashed Horde ship fixed it up and customised it, now sporting the colour scheme of BrightMoon; purple, pink, and gold, even a painted mural of Glimmer on the hull. You couldn't get more overt than that, if this bait wouldn't work, Entrapta didn't know what would.

That was a lovely day, Entrapta and Hordak made a whole day of it, a date, that was what normal couples did so they thought they'd try it out too. And it was wonderful. Just them working together, bouncing ideas off of each other, problem solving, like two lobes of the same brain working in tandem. It was like a dream. Hordak would cherish this memory for years to come.

Hordak pulled up behind the decoy ship. With a single press of a button the clearance codes were transmitted from The Annihilation to the warships. Then; quiet. This moment was always horrifying. The silence. The wait. Hordak and the rest of the crew knew the codes were correct, Glimmer approved them herself, but each time Hordak’s mind briefly flashed to the thought of; What if the codes were wrong? If the warships would open fire, they would be dead in seconds - if not instantaneously vaporised by the battery lasers then they would freeze in the void of space. Seconds ticked away. They waited for the go-ahead; Hordak tense, V, behind him, completely relaxed and indifferent - the fear of death had left the old clone long ago, and then...

A green light lit up on the control panel. And the barricade of warships began to part like the Red Sea. And the tightness in Hordak’s chest disappeared and he released a sigh of relief. The two ships bypassed the armada wall and soon after separated, Glimmer watched the bait craft shrink into a dot out of the window and disappear. Soon the armada faded from visibility as well, and they were off on their voyage, no turning back now. Nothing but an endless stretch of darkness.

“Well, I guess there's no going back now.” She stepped up to the cockpit and looked on at the eternal night ahead.

V put his feet up on the pilot chair ahead, annoying Hordak, “Why so gloomy your highness. They should call you Gloomer. We’re here to have a good time! You know this is a road trip, and you know what that means!”

Dak: “No.”

Moe: “Oh Prime.”

Lee just turned around and left to his room.

V opened a compartment in the chair he was sitting on and pulled out a CD, and practically crawled over Hordak to get to the front control panel and slid the disc into a rectangular device. Glimmer believed it was called a CD player. And so music began to play from it. A country song come on not that our protagonists knew what that was exactly. The song began:

‘Life is like a road that you travel on,

When there is one day here and then the next day gone,

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand,

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind’

Hordak face palmed, unable to escape the sound of the song, trapped in the pilot's seat. He had clearly heard this song a thousand times before. “I can't believe this.”

‘There is a world outside every darkened door,

Where the blues will not haunt you anymore,

Where brave are free and lovers soar,

Come ride with me to the distant shore’

Glimmer bowed her head down and sighed, “This is my life now... for the next week... No going back.” She echoed the words to herself once more. She turned and waltzed back to the couch defeated.

‘We won't hesitate, to break down the garden gate,

There's not much time left today, yeah –

THE DEFECTS, FEATURING QUEEN GLIMMER OF ETHERIA, STARRING IN:

‘L I F E   I S   A   H I G H W A Y  !’

‘And I want to ride it all night long.’

End of Act One (of Three)

___

Next Time on LIAH

"I've been checking our food cabinets, some thing's eating our supplies, some thing's here with us."

Dun. Dun. DUN!

---

"Don't be mad!"

"What did you do?!"

"I said don't be mad!!!"

---

"Is that a shotgun?!?!"

---

"Fifty Romulaks?! Where are we crossing over to Terabithia?!!"

---

"Keith... I'm pregnant."

"I knew it."

To Be Continued

[yoonia]

Hello^^

This is your annual (monthly) psa from little old me.

I'm sorry for being MIA. I had a ton of fun with my birthday bash event on October and I love that I ended up writing a couple of new pieces at the end aside from giving you guys some lovely moodboards to enjoy, which was a blast.

Unfortunately, on the final days of October, I started getting an allergy reaction from some of my meds, which led to me getting a weird skin infection appearing on my right arm and with a terrible inflammation on my upper arm. I also experienced a symptom similar to carpal tunnel syndrome which I got from hours of designing and drawing for work during the day and playing with canva and photoshop and writing on my computer at night, so I had to take a long break as soon as I finished my event and November came around.

To top it all, I think I'm a bit burnt out. I've been releasing a ton of things since August, and my mind (and I guess, my body) is asking for a break. I've been taking some time off from the internet and Tumblr because of this and have been focusing on recovering (bc your girl has bills to pay and I can't draw anything with this arm *sobs*).

I'm still recovering right now, with my arm still sore and hurting, but I'm slowly getting back to writing and creating some stuff again as I'm doing NaNoWriMo independently (without the site). Here's where we are at so far:

— Nefarious, that was planned to be released at the end of October, is about halfway done. I'm currently focusing on this one to release as soon as I'm done with it (because this won't be the last instalment from In Motion and I want to get the other out on December). Thanks to my break, I was able to open the draft with fresh eyes and...hated at least most of the things I wrote last month lol. so I'm in the middle of rewriting this and I can say that I'm making better progress with this so far.

— Carousel is still on rewriting process, with its weekly update continuing on Wattpad starting this month.

— The Bedroom Hymns is also on progress. I can only write for an hour or two each day due to my condition, so progress has been slow, but we're getting somewhere. I think I can release the new chapter right after Nefarious is released.

— Ever A Never After is continuing. Again, it's a slow progress, and I might release it sooner on Wattpad as small chapters if it comes down to it.

— I have a surprise project to release soon. I'm not sure when it's coming, but I'll be announcing it when I'm ready :)

That's all for now. Thank you for your patience and for making things fun for me back in October that you've given my a lot of motivation to write some new fics. I have a couple of messages waiting for me in my inbox which I'll be answering as soon as I'm available (again).

Be back soon! Take care, lovelies <333

xoxo, Dia

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite: Blitzø

ft Loona doodles :) Alright first off sorry this took so long i got a job lol

A large part of his character is the fact that he used to be a clown, so I took a bit of two face in this design and accentuated the scarring on the left side of his face. I decided to give him the circular cheek bits to allude to the clown as well as ruffling his collar under the clothes. He’s the most complex design of the IMP so far, aside from Loona’s multiple spots, so i tried to keep the colors simple but distinct from M&M. I took the spikes and put them on his clothes – as in he puts on thorns to keep people away. I think a pink tone suits his more lusty character. 

Now as for his character... I'll be honest I struggled with him for a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure where I wanted his character to go or how serious this rewrite would take the drama Viv wants to write. I adore writing deep characters, so I suppose I’m going to have to take The Office’s approach of being a comedy with moving parts. There are overarching plot lines in this version, that being Moxxie’s mafia ties coming back to haunt him, Blitzo’s past coming back to fuck him over in the form of everything about him, and Millie’s insecurities fucking her over when it counts. Maybe the series underlying theme is how running from your problems doesn’t work. Idk, because I also like the whole monster of the week type assassin gigs they do. I’ll make it work. 

So now, introducing the new and improved Blitzø! 

Blitzø is a mixed imp, his father being from Greed and his mother being from Lust. As such he’s a very poor mix of bad traits. He’s hypersexual (to the point of disturbing others), greedy as fuck (as he underpays Millie and Moxxie), is greatly attached to and possessive of those he likes (hence his smothering of Loona and stalking of M&M), and tends to think with his dick in most situations which get him into quite a few pickles (hehe pickle) 

Alright, so personality wise he is just about the same. He shits on others, is generally an ass and not very shy about it, but one thing I want to change is his delivery. This Blitzø is much more jovial about what he’s doing, putting on an act of being very charming and playful, even when he insults people. Ex, the line in the pilot when he mentions Moxxie crushing his dreams would include a very childish pout and a chuckle after. He plays the things he says off as jokes so it gives him an air of... idk like you don’t know when he’s ever being serious. 

He grew up in a circus in Greed along with his twin sister Barbie Wire (side note if Blitzo was my og creation he would have a pun/type name like Barbie does. Too tired to come up with one now, but mainly just because Barbie Wire is a much more creative name than fucking Blitzo) and his mother, who was dying day by day. His father was the ring leader and used his children as props to make money. Blitzo was a double act with Barbie Wire where they would do tricks on trained horses before Barbie started wanting to do trapeze and Blitzo was paired with Fizz instead to do acrobatics and tell jokes. 

Now since we don’t know what the fuck happened in Blitzo’s past (despite being on fucking season 2) I’m going to leave this bit open ended until Viv plays her cards then rewrite it into my story.  

So overall I’m not tweaking too much with Blitzo. Maybe instead of being a woobie who is like oh woe is me I suck he is just an overt asshole who sort of wants to be better but that’s too much work.  

His relationship with Stolas is a can of worms and I fucking hate worms. Alright, so we’re scrapping the childhood buddies thing, and going full force into what we all were shown in the pilot – this powerful demon is banging Blitzo in exchange for the Grimoire. Now real quick, why doesn’t Blitzo use Asmodean crystals? In this I'm making it so only lust demons can bond with crystals (bonding meaning only that demon can use them) and unbound crystals can’t leave Lust. So Blitzo would have to go to Lust and buy one, which is expensive as fuck and he was too broke at the time he struck the deal with Stolas. He’s planning on ditching Stolas as soon as he has enough cash to buy a crystal for IMP to use. 

So Stolas and Blitzo are both using each other, neither of them are like “omg I think he likes me”. Stolas wants sex to fuel his imp fetish and Blitzo wants the book. Blitzo has every intention of cutting this off as soon as he gets the crystal, and in his mind is only really indulging some rich brat demon. The issue comes when Blitzo finds himself actually liking Stolas – he likes the owl’s stupid spiels about literature and space and herbs, he likes that Stolas tells him helpful things with no prompting (like how certain herbs can treat injuries and things like that), and he finds himself liking Stolas’s company. Which is a big problem if he wants to cut the demon off, so he starts trying to get that in gear. This is also while being constantly reminded how unlovable he is and how he ruins everything he touches, but he’s conflicted because Stolas has started to treat him kindly and refer to him like an acquaintance rather than a sex toy. 

Any I'm tired af, going to bed. 

Oh, but before I go I just want to say that now that I’ve finished the IMP gang, I’m taking a minor break from reworking Helluva and will be posting some RWBY redesigns I’ve made because I fucking hate RWBY but at the same time it’s like my childhood. I’ll tag anything Rwby I'm doing as Rwby Rework if you’re interested, but don’t worry I’ll continue to do more viv/helluva/hazbin later this month! 

Thanks for reading <3

[kitorin]

journal.

in which, itoshi rin's midnight writing exposes what he's kept concealed from you.

contents. itoshi rin x reader, 2.878 k words, fluff, angst (in the past), itoshi backstory spoilers (mixed with a few headcanons), 1st person rin pov for a bit (journal entry), regular highschool au

a/n. is this my best? no. but is it the best i have for today? yes. happy birthday to rin <3 after assignments are done i'll definitely rewrite this (i gave up on proofreading)

10 / 09 / 2023 : SUNDAY, 12:04 am - 3:21 am

Solitude has never been a foreigner.

In fact, he's quite a familiar individual, an old companion that never seems to leave.

Even before Nii chan left for Spain, solitude was still there for me. During class I wouldn't utter a word to anyone else unless necessary, and contrariwise for said classmates. People still spoke to me; just not to the extent that they'd know what my favourite foods were, or what I liked to watch in my free time, not even bothering with it. I've never been invited to hang out with anyone after school, or been to someone else's house (not that I particularly cared, I was just sure that I was the only one).

But I was okay with it. I didn't want, or need anyone else when Nii chan bought me ice blocks, giving me the bigger piece as we'd watch the sun's warm hues bleed into the sky; the saccharine iciness contrasting how warm is was to be swallowed by sunlight together. Dad took us fishing a lot, he's always been well acquainted with the sea, taking us to locations well populated by bream; my favourite. On our way home we'd harvest kelp (Nii chan likes it in rice, salted) and take photos together on our yacht, admiring how the sun greets the world farewell, sinking into the aquamarine. Mum makes amazing food, I'm constantly astonished at how she manages to memorise every preference, from my love for ochazuke to being able to pour the perfect amount of tea; the rice never becomes too soggy (even I can't pour the exact amount I like). Solitude was close to me, but my family were closer.

There's a lot I could say about them, they've done more than remember what I love and ensuring I was happy; I'm thankful they've delivered the right for me to be comforted, to have a shoulder to cry on, to be able to freely ramble on about whatever fascinated me.

I've always been happy, even if I'm alone outside of the walls I call home. Because whether I laughed my heart out or sobbed to the point I couldn't form a coherent sentence, I'd always come home running to my family. Nothing can beat dinner; where we all relish mum's food, ask each other about our days' and offer solace or advice when necessary.

I miss that. Terribly, to the point my heart aches.

I knew that Nii chan's departure to Europe (Spain, to be exact) would change a lot. I'd have to score without his guidance, walk home alone and buy my own popsicles. Dinner time would have one less soul to laugh with, and home would have one less to embrace.

I just never expected it to be painful change. I never predicted that his return would result in losing us entirely. I didn't think his homecoming would cause my immortal resentment towards the snow, or how my eyes prickle a bit at the mere thought of an ice block. I'd say it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, separation from him following it on the list of my worst experiences.

Solitude avoided me at home, but wasn't enough.

One time on the way home, I was overhearing the team's conversations (nothing particularly new really) and it was a discussion about the future. It was honestly surprising to find out only some of us intended to become soccer players; Nagi would rather stream or compete in professional gaming, Kurona wants to study marine biology in uni, and Yukimiya wants to give acting a go along with his modelling career. Even Isagi has a plan for if professional soccer isn't an option. He said he wanted to help others achieve their dreams if he fails to do so himself.

I remained silent as always, but had a lot more thoughts racing through my mind. Retreating to my room immediately that night, my first thought was to lie in bed, to neglect the clips I planned to analyse, to ignore muscle training for today and to slack off a bit. That's when I realized how sad the life I was living. I was sad because I was reminded of my reality.

I'm a mere myriad of distinguished achievements, though a hideous attempt of replicating genius Itoshi Sae. I'm a collection of formidable accomplishments, basking in the spotlight of glory and honour. The trophies and awards adorning my room prove it, standing tall with pride and flaunting my hard work.

That didn't mean anything. I had remained in a constant cycle of training, eating, and sleeping. My teammates were just as ambitious yet still worked hard on other things; Yukimiya enjoys modelling and Reo has a passion for economics, That must've been where I was lacking.

That's how I ended up writing again. It was an attempt to break out of this cyclical torture of constant training and sports.

I don't know how I remembered it, but I found my notebook from primary, all the stories messily scrawled yet legible. Scarlet adorned narratives birthed from child-like imagination, eulogising the prose, even though I almost flinched out of embarrassment.

Flipping through the pages, I had found the paragraph my teacher left me, insisting that I keep writing. Obviously, I never did. After getting into soccer I ignored everything school related, and would've found words on a page foolish anyways.

Many years later, I finally followed that advice.

The end result wasn't pretty. I paused a lot, struggled a lot, and almost gave up, a lot. It may have been hideous, but it was mine. A piece birthed from curiosity and memories from the past turned into another attempt. Another attempt morphed into extensive reading, I wanted to observe what was considered worthwhile or meaningless.

Writing rewove the early nights into late night reading, fully immersed in the author's thoughts translated into prose. Reading was the push to giving academics a go. Academics pulled me out of the endless cycle of soccer, there was more to life than training and diet regulation.

Books I can read. Words I can write. Exams I can study for and sports I can practice. Weights I can lift and competitions I can train for.

But to be loved, is so difficult.

It's not like an exam that you can study for and simply memorise the answers to. Or a match that has the security of a referee and reinforced rules. It's not something that can be guaranteed with a mentor.

People treat Isagi to his favourite whenever he has a bad day (he likes kintsuba). People advocate their favourite novels to Yukimiya and Chigiri, even going as far as memorising their preferences to curate their recommendations flawlessly. It must be nice, for someone to invest that sort of effort in you, even if it's simply remembering a hobby.

As my peers savoured the allure of love, estrangement and desolation constantly haunted me; a pest habituating the sleepless nights where I try to escape with a cup of coffee that's long gone cold.

It's lukewarm, praying for another's attention, care and love, to be hungry for one's time. I pathetically plead whoever manipulating my fate to provide me some sort of human connection. I shouldn't be so hopeful of others, yet I find myself dying of curiosity; what would it be like for someone to remember my birthday? Or tell me about the horror movie they adored?

I despise solitude's clinginess. But I hate how it makes me sob endlessly when no one watches.

I have myself. I have my thoughts which I've transcribed to oeuvre. I have the pile of books resting on my bedside table which sleep alongside with me. I have the trophies and awards I've won, I'll always appreciate my own talent and diligence, even if playing soccer brought me so much pain.

I think I'm somewhat pretty. I find my prominent eyelashes special to me, it's something unique to both me and Nii chan. My physique isn't too bad, either. I like the way my legs look, and my shoulders as I dry my hair.

I've always been proud of myself. I've always been enough and I always will be. Just not for others.

That's why I never expected my bond with solitude to be severed so easily. Especially because of y/n out of all people.

I still don't get how it happened. The oblivion to their presence became a peculiar first impression. An odd first meeting turned into abrupt yet regular greetings amidst hallways. Soon, I was sitting with them in every class, passing notes during tedious lessons and discussing our favourite media on the bus ride home.

Before I knew it, passionate rambles about books turned into watching movies together in my room. Whenever they greeted me their friendly wave was replaced with a tight hug, passing notes in class were accompanied with subtle kisses on the cheek.

Our relationship as friends was reimagined to lovers.

Something must've possessed me to blurt out the stupid crush I had on them, and I thank whatever drove me to do that. As awkward as I was it doesn't compare to the skip of my heartbeat when they accepted my feelings.

It's been almost a year since I met them, yet I still feel hot whenever they hold my hand, and flush red at every compliment they whisper. I still find myself stuttering sometimes whenever they're showing me a new outfit they've styled.

I love the way they smile, the creases of joy that adorn the outer corner of their eyes, and how they squint with glee and the sweet, melodious laughter that accompanies it; how breathless they sound whilst laughing. The expression they wear when deep in thought fascinates me, even if it's midway through an exam or them simply observing a video Bachira sent them. I adore their late night thoughts they text me at 3 am, the fatigue itching my eyes seem to evaporate when I notice their name on the notification. I treasure the notes we've scrawled on spare sheets of paper, they're still in between the pages of my books.

Even now, they're sleeping soundly in my bed, arms wrapped around the plush I bought them; I keep getting distracted by the sight of them so relaxed, chest rising up and down with each breath.

I would die for them. Because now I don't need to pretend to be invested on my phone to look less lonely. Now, I don't need to put my bag on the seat next to me to make it look like I sit alone by choice. I don't have to persuade the teacher to let me do group projects alone, or have to observe others with jealousy. Someone defends me from disparaging comments.

Because now, I'm not alone.

7:15 am

THE ENTRY COMES TO AN END, AND EMBARASSMENT DUSTS Rin's face a faint tint of pink. His eyes avoid contact with yours— as he waits for your input his latest piece.

"Well? What do you think?"

You're not sure where to start. You've always known about his strained relationship with his older brother, and how his friendship with his teammates wasn't the same in the beginning. But he never explained it in detail; you wouldn't've guessed that he had some sort of chionophobia, or even cried because he felt so secluded from others. The thought of him concealing his tears and pain from the rest of the world made your eyes prickle and sends your heart racing miserably.

"Doesn't matter—" He reaches for the notebook, closing it and tossing it onto his desk. "Forget it, you didn't see anything." He plops backwards again, head hitting the pillow and groaning as he covers his face with his forearm. "It was shit anyways, I'll rip it out and toss it later."

"It wasn't."

Rin stays silent.

You lie down, mimicking his current position and cup his cheeks with your hand. "You'll never be alone again—, I promise you that." Your voice falters ever so slightly, the thought of his pain makes you feel weak in the knees and sick to the stomach. "You're more than enough, you always have and always will be. You don't need anyone's validation to be beautiful, you never did."

Rin sighs, "I'm only like that because of you." Yet something seems to throb in his heart, the small but overpowering part of him that insists he requires another's approval to be important— someone finally proving that wrong.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is, our classmates still loathe me, so do people who barely see or speak to me." There was no lie in that; but it wasn't Rin's fault. "Yoichi and the others only spend time with me because of you."

"I was only the push for them to speak to you, you know they've always cared, they were just too nervous to speak to you. As competitive as he gets, Yoichi really admires you, to the point he gets so heated and ends up rambling about your skills." That's a secret that was supposed to remain in your private messages, but Yoichi doesn't need to know.

Satisfaction momentarily appears on Rin's face at the thought of his rival's great respect, though it doesn't last very long.

"He's my teammate so it's expected... everyone I speak to at school seems to have something against me, even our English teacher." The mistreatment at school is undeniable, it's not exactly bullying but there's no respect or human decency in how people behave towards him.

"Rin, love, you've done nothing wrong, hate isn't always rational. There will always be people who can't stand seeing others more successful, and that's not your fault."

"Really?" His eyes light up; despite having a sophisticated and cold demeanour all the time, he looks like a child again, hope dances in his wide eyes.

"Really." Your fingers take advantage of the opportunity and pinch his cheeks gently. "Don't listen to all those stupid rumours and assumptions, idiot. I'd fight anyone who tries to hurt you and win every time."

When your fingers let go he immediately kisses you, and it leaves you breathless; the way he pulls you in flexes his well toned biceps and his hand supports your head.

"Thank you." Rin whispers, pulling away a bit. "Thank you for appreciating me. Thank you for everything." It's a rare occurrence for him to sound so frail, same goes for the tremble of his bottom lip.

"Of course, I love you more than anything."

"I love you too." It's escorted by a peck on your nose, and a soft expression sculpted on his face.

Before Rin can throw a blanket over the two of you again, you interrupt.

"You shouldn't throw that entry away." You still haven't forgotten his initial intention with it. "I don't get why you think it's shit."

"It's rushed. And it's just me waffling on about my feelings and the past. There's no proofreading, and it's rushed. It's not even complete either."

"That's the whole point of writing, no? It's the expression of our words and thoughts." You reach towards his desk to pick up the notebook. "Not everything has to be written in one sitting, too."

Rin doesn't bother stopping you from looking through the notebook at this point. "It's still stupid. It's just that I had the urge and motivation to write in the dead of night."

"Well. I like it."

Rin's stoic expression crumbles, revealing the bashful side he keeps concealed from the world. "Then that's good enough for me." The red on his cheeks tell you that you've won the argument.

You turn back to the entry page, impressed with his barely legible yet pretty handwriting. "You should've slept instead."

"I don't get tired anyways." He's quickly betrayed by the yawn clawing out of his throat.

"Liar. Why would you stay up writing so late... your sleep is important you know?"

"Because you are love itself. I won't get a wink of sleep if it means I can think and write about you instead." Rin's pulls you in again, tossing his notebook elsewhere as he leans in. "I promise I'll finish that entry, no— I'll write a book about you one day."

"Writing this, writing that, sleep first dumbass." A smile tugs at your lips as you pull Rin back into the position you were cuddling in a few hours ago. Even though you were the one who slept a lot more, fatigue itched your eyes, and a yawn spilled out too.

In response, Rin tosses a blanket over the two of you, whispering good night as you begin to nod off a bit. He should rest too, he has training tomorrow and has to go to the gym as well.

The Itoshi Rin from before would've slept immediately. In fact, he wouldn't've stayed up in the first place, let alone date someone. But the Itoshi Rin now instead stares at you, admiring each and every feature of yours. You're his savior, the luminescent moon irradiating his world, guiding him away from the grasps of solitude and embracing him with love instead.

Tagging: @yuzurins (yumi you inspired this fic btw lol)

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[alpacahat67]

A Very Detailed Analysis Explaining Why Asrian is Mid

Yes, I've made a shitpost summing up my thoughts on the topic before. However, I regularly get into bi-weekly complaint sessions about this terrible, horrible ship.

I am willing to be burnt at the stake if it means I will be a martyr against Dorian... (I'm joking. This is Tumblr. It's not that serious.)

Under the cut is a lot of words! Be prepared

By the way all of this is Dorian's fault GIVE ME MODERN ARCANA I WILL REWRITE IT

I want to preface this by saying my opinions on the ship come off as very mixed? At least in my head. My problem is obviously more with the fandom than how it's portrayed in the actual game, as you will see. Unfortunately, it's just what happens in fandom. Asra x Julian fits the perfect mold for a potentially popular ship. Two masc-presenting people with a tragic story, yeah cool.

I don't care about people making art or writing about them. I actually think Asra and Julian have an interesting dynamic and I enjoy a lot of their in-game interactions. Here's the thing, and my thesis statement for this post, most of the fanworks surrounding these two that I see in the wild are using the dynamic for the wrong reasons! Furthermore, for Asrian to work out and genuinely last a while, you have to mischaracterize one or both of the characters.

I think that this stems from a misunderstanding of the characters and the circumstances under which their situationship (they didn't have a relationship, I'll get into that soon) sparked. Dorian's pushing of content including the two in a romantic or suggestive context does not help matters.

I think a good example of this was under the original shitpost I made about the topic. I won't put this user on blast because I don't recall their URL, and if you find it do not be mean to them. I had called Asrian one-sided. I do sort of agree now, Asra x Julian is not one-sided. However, one party sure as hell does not reciprocate the feelings as much as the other party does! Here's the thing, Asra and Julian's relationship was born from grief for the death of the apprentice on both sides. However you want to interpret Julian's relationship with the apprentice, it's clear that he had some interest in Asra following their death. But we can see very, very clearly in literally every scene involving Asra speaking to or about Julian, Asra didn't feel the same. Asra loved the apprentice through and through. Asra gave the apprentice half his heart for fuck's sake!

I don't want to say Asra was using Julian, or vice versa. But the other was a distraction from everything going on in their lives, from the apprentice's death to the plague. Hence, situationship. Although I do think there was romantic intention on Julian's end, chances are it fizzled out during the three-year interlude.

It's a very tragic dynamic and I do enjoy it! They drive me INSANE! It's just... a lot of people willfully ignore that. A lot of people ignore that they both have problems they haven't addressed that more than just some kisses will solve, both internally and with one another. And when you ignore that...

...You mischaracterize them. Haha, like my segue? Unfortunately, the best ending for those two is in Muriel's route. Which, as far as we know, the two didn't... ever seriously sit down and have a talk. Which is what they need to do. In order for those two to work out, they need to have a serious, long talk about where they went wrong in the past and what they can do to do better.

Do you wanna know something about those two characters? NEITHER OF THEM WOULD BE WILLING TO HAVE THAT DISCUSSION! Furthermore, their personalities in a lot of media I see (cough cough mostly from Dorian) are completely wrong! I love a morally gray character very much, people tend to erase that from Asra and only make him mischievous if not straight-up an asshole, or very cute and loving, as if the point of morally grey isn't a very confusing middle. I mostly see Julian being characterized as pathetic. Yes, he is my pathetic little wet cat sometimes, but he is smart. He's a doctor. Not only that, he was a battlefield medic at what we can only assume is a pretty young age. Julian has issues but he can handle himself.

I have a lot more I can say on the topic. In short, a doomed relationship where they just have to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the right time or the right person is much more interesting to read than a perfect one where you get your happy ending. I understand the appeal, but if you want to write them being cute and happy together, I implore you to just... make an au. That is not fixing itself. They both need to be medicated.

[yepthatsacowalright]

"Reality Takes A Holiday" as the finale for Eerie Indiana is so important to me and I'll tell you why.

First off, I'm pretty sure it was the first time I ever saw what a set looked like, what a script looked like, and how many people work behind the scenes to make a show. It got me curious to learn more, which then sort of altered the whole trajectory of my life, so that's a weird and fascinating to think about. Specifically, I really liked the fact that studio lots had golf carts, and one of my longest standing childhood dreams was to drive one. I didn't even need to be doing anything important. I just yearned to be, for a brief moment in time, a golf cart person on an LA back lot.

Then, years ago when I moved to LA and got my first ever production assistant job, I GOT TO DRIVE THE CART AROUND THE STUDIO! It was everything I hoped it would be, and easily the best part of that job. And that job, by the way, was at CBS Radford Studios. Which I remember even at the time thinking, 'Hehe Radford, like Mr. Radford.' Not realizing THAT'S WHERE THE CHARACTER GOT HIS NAME. Eerie Indiana FILMED AT RADFORD STUDIOS. I was living my golf cart fantasy at the EXACT SAME PLACE that I had seen and dreamed of golf carting, which is such a strange fact that I wish I'd known when I was working there because what are the fucking odds? But, to bring it back to the actual storyline of the episode (spoilers ahead btw), I love that there's the line, "'If he's not back by the final shot, the network's gonna cancel all of us!" Because Marshall writes himself out of the reality where Eerie Indiana is a TV show. So he isn't back by the final shot. And the network does cancel all of them. I love the implication that the town being a fictional place watched by an audience was just another part of Eerie's weirdness. That the brief time it was on the air was a blip of realities connecting and Marshall fixed it by choosing to go back. He and Simon continue their investigations, we just don't get to follow along anymore. It is the most satisfying ending to a short lived series I've ever seen, and I think that's why it's stuck with me for decades. It feels like an honest way to end something that no one working on it wanted to end. Were it up to them, they would rewrite the ending and go back, too.

[runariya]

One-Shot: A Sip Of Eternity (JJK)

pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, coffee shop!AU, yandere-ish? idrk warnings: foul language, obsession, mentions of blood and ripped out organs, death, hunger, feeding off humans and animals, throwing up, Jungkook doesn't know what hit him, reader is sus, allusion of abuse, lmk if I forgot something word count: ~ 4.370

a/n: okay...I know I said I'm taking a break from writing while mini-me and I are down with sickness BUT hear me out....those fever dreams...uffff👀....I just had to write it down somehow. It's not edited and I think it's a bit jumbled up at places-sorry for that. I'll think about rewriting it, when I'm at full capacity again. Until then, have fun reading👀

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

🎵K.Flay - High Enough🎵 Do you see anyone other than me? Baby, please I'll take a hit of whatever you got Maybe two, maybe three Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief, oh, oh, oh

Thursday morning

It has been 811 years, 296 days, 13 hours, and 49 minutes since he was turned. 811 years, 296 days, 13 hours, and 49 minutes far too long, too boring, too repetitive. Jungkook has seen it all. He’s done it all. But this little human right in front of him? No, you’re new. Exciting, even.

He’s been the chief of this city for half his immortal life, running a cafe for his kind, invisible to anyone else.

So why on earth did a human find its way in here? And why do you smell so, so delicious?

“Back off or you’re dead” Jungkook growls in his head. The other vampires stop immediately, no longer ready to pounce. Knowing they don’t stand a chance against him, they only watch.

“Hello,” you say shyly, with the softest smile he’s ever seen.

“Good morning.” He scans your hands, looking for a wedding band, but your fingers are empty. “Miss.”

You flush, your heartbeat picking up. You’re cute, he thinks. So innocent.

“I said back the fuck off!” His voice booms, snapping the other vampires out of their trance. “What can I get you?”

“I’m new here…I mean in town…and here at this coffee shop, obviously…so…ehm…could you…if it’s not a bother…recommend something?” You stutter, your heartbeat now through the roof. Calm down, he thinks.

“Sure. The crimson latte is the most popular.” Of course, it is; it’s full of blood.

“That sounds fancy.” You cringe. “I’d like one, please.” Your voice is so soft, like a feather drifting in the breeze.

“Coming right up.” Jungkook turns to the coffee machine. “Okay, listen here, you little shits. If anyone in this godforsaken city even looks her way, they’re getting staked. You hear me? Spread the news. This little human is mine.”

A chorus of acceptance of his command echoes in his mind. Looking over his shoulder, he sees you looking around, oblivious. You’re wearing a summer dress, its colour making your skin glow. Your hair is beautifully styled, and your makeup matches your style so effortlessly it’s making him a little breathless. Or maybe it’s your quick pulse; he isn’t sure.

Just as he reaches for the blood on the counter, his fingers halt. Idiot, he reprimands himself. Shaking his head lightly, he takes the strawberry syrup and pours it into your coffee. This will do, he thinks.

Turning around, he falters, seeing your blinding smile. Your eyes sparkle like the tutus he sees little girls wear.

You look so sweet. Would you taste the same? But he won’t do anything. Your poor, precious soul shouldn’t be harmed.

“Here you go, enjoy.” He says, and when your fingers brush his, he feels a jolt. Retreating his fingers instantly, he looks at you with wide eyes.

You’re also startled by his reaction, your eyes wide and full of apology as if he was repulsed by you, which is not true.

“Sorry…how much do I owe you?” Your voice is like tiny bells to his ears.

“No worries. It’s on the house.” Jungkook wants so badly to reassure you, to smile, but all he manages is a twitch of his lips.

Your gaze drops down to his lips, and he’s impressed and elated you noticed his attempt at smiling. When your breathtaking smile reappears on your lush lips, his dead heart sings. Or is it his thirst?

It doesn’t matter. Because when you leave, he’s sure he’ll never see you again.

Friday Evening

Jungkook can smell you before he turns. Why are you back again? He thought it was a coincidence you could enter yesterday. An error in the spell protecting his shop from human eyes. But two days in a row seems troubling.

“Hobi, go out, find a human and bring it before the shop. See if it sees us.”

“Yes, JK.”

You’re now standing directly behind him, the counter separating you both. You’re not even a minute into his shop, and your scent has overpowered every molecule in the air. His thirst burns in his throat. He needs to hunt tonight. Damn you. If it weren’t for your delicious blood, he would have held on for a week more.

Jungkook takes a deep breath to ground himself, but it’s the worst decision of his dead life. Your scent now clings not only to his skin but to every cell of his.

Nonetheless, he turns around. But now he’s not sure anymore if it’s your scent or the sight of you that’s more compelling.

Dressed in another flowy summer dress, you look like a goddess. A human goddess, he corrects himself.

“Hello again.” Your smile blinds him, and even though it’s as bright as the sun, it doesn’t burn him. Or does it? Because he feels excruciatingly helpless.

What should he say? What did you say? What time of day is it even? He’s not sure. He’s also not sure who he is. No, that’s a lie. He knows who he is. He’s a vampire, an old vampire. But why does he feel so basic beside you?

“Hello.” He hears the snorts of the other patrons in his head, and they all get a glare in return.

You turn around briefly, then look at him questioningly.

“The usual?” He needs to distract you.

“Oh. Yes, sure! This strawberry latte was soooo delicious. The best coffee I ever had. You must have magic hands or something. Really, when I finished it, I thought, ‘Wow, you need one more.’ And then I thought…” You trail off again, face flushing, heartbeat accelerating as if hunted down, but your eyes turn sad, and you stare at the counter. “Sorry.” Despite his inhuman hearing, he needs to strain to hear your whispered apology.

“I’m glad you liked it.” What’s wrong with him? Why is he consoling you? Argh, you’re so pathetic, Jeon. Whatever.

Jungkook turns around in a rush, starting to prepare your coffee. Your heartbeat now slows down second by second. And it’s nearly at normal when he pours the strawberry syrup in it.

Just as he’s nearly finished, your heart rate rises in panic. He turns around at that, seeing you take a step back from the counter. But you’re looking to your left. And as he follows your view, he sees why.

“Pete.” Jungkook’s voice is grave. Said man startles and looks him in the eyes, like a child caught doing something it shouldn’t. “Sit the fuck down.” And down he sits.

When Jungkook turns back to you, you look at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open. But it’s not fear he sees in your eyes but pure admiration and respect.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t just now push his chest up a little more. And he would be lying if he said he felt more powerful than he does now.

He steps to the counter, this time placing your not-so-crimson latte on it. Again, your smile and gratitude throw him for a loop he can’t understand.

When you leave with a wave and the door falls shut, he takes off his apron and turns to Pete. A terrified Pete.

“Get up. Follow me.”

And both disappear through the back door, Jungkook the only one with a blood-dripping heart in his equally bloody hand coming back.

Monday Morning

The weekend was horrible. No, it was more than that. If there was a word for the hell he went through, Jungkook would send a thank you note to whoever invented it.

Friday night, Jungkook was starving, so he went for his hunt. At first everything went smoothly, as always; he lured a poor soul in, took a bite, but then everything went downhill. The blood tasted foul.

Thick like tar, bitter like coffee grounds—he threw the sip of blood up in an instant, coughing violently while pushing the human away. He couldn’t help but  heave like a cat trying to throw up a hairball.

Saturday night, the same thing happened. Lure, bite, puke.

And guess what? Surprise, surprise, Sunday night was the same again.

So, when Monday morning came, and with it your positive, content, chipper self with your savory, inviting, toothsome blood—oh boy, Jungkook wanted to cry like a baby.

To suppress the growing hunger, he starts counting the seconds, but when you stand before him, and he knows you’d never have a chance if he wanted to taste you, he’s done.

So done that he starts smiling at you. 

No, not a friendly "hey there"-smile. A grimace more fitting on the face of a psychopath. But where’s the difference between him and a psychopath, really? 

You beam at him regardless, not phased at all. “Hey! Your smile suits you! Your teeth are so nice!”

Jungkook malfunctions at that. His face falls, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth as discreet as he can. Did he show his fangs by accident? No. Hm. 

“Thank...you...?” He questions you more than really being grateful for the compliment.

“I’d like the usual, please.” The wide, happy smile just doesn’t leave your face.

He’s only able to nod, and again like routine, turning around and doing his job. Your scent makes his hands shake uncontrollably. He’s starving, his stomach squeezing uncomfortably. He waits a moment so he’s able to continue. 

“She’s checking out your butt,” Hobi giggles.

“Shut up.” But he can’t help but flex his buttocks and thighs on purpose while shifting from one foot to the other. He stops abruptly, realizing his doings. Why is he like this? He sobs internally, this isn’t him. 

Jungkook again starts counting the seconds, willing his hands to stop shaking again, but this time he just can’t.

When he looks over his shoulder, he catches you indeed checking out his butt. Your eyes snap up, locking with his. You’re clearly embarrassed, and your little heart starts pounding violently. No, please don’t. 

He forces his eyes back to the coffee. It takes all his willpower to take the cup and hand it to you without spilling its contents.

You thank him, as always, with a smile more soothing than any high he’s ever experienced.

“See you tomorrow.” Your airy voice wraps around him, squeezing his airways tighter.

“Bye,” Jungkook presses out, barely able to gulp the saliva collecting in his mouth. 

The air in the coffee shop turns still with your departure, and he’s finally able to breathe normally again.

Tuesday Morning

This time he sees you outside his shop through the windows. You’re looking up at the sign and with that your face lights up. 

You enter, and Jungkook is already on edge. The way you navigate his shop, as if it’s a normal coffee place, unnerves him to the core. How do you keep finding this place?

“Hobi, did you check the spell again?”

“Yes, JK. It’s still intact.”

Your presence disrupts his thoughts again. His body reacts the same way it does every time you’re near: adrenaline courses through his veins, making his hands shaky and his hunger rise exponentially.

You approach the counter, your scent now a familiar, maddening presence.

“Good morning...” Your soft voice trails off, and he finds himself leaning closer to hear you better.

“I'm Jungkook. Hello.” He feels foolishly pleased at how natural his voice sounds while his insides are on panic mode. “The usual?”

“Yes, please. Your strawberry latte is the highlight of my day.”

He turns with a nod and prepares your drink. His dead heart stirs, and he chides himself for being affected by your words and presence. He’s a vampire, the vamp-chief of the city, not some lovesick human.

Wait. Stop. What? He’s not lovesick. 

When he places the drink before you after he’s finished, your smile is radiant. “Thank you.”

He watches shocked as you find a seat, not leaving like the days before. His eyes narrow at any vampire who dares look your way. You are his. No one else must interfere.

And it’s 52 minutes later when you leave with a wave his way.  But who’s counting? 

Wednesday evening

Yesterday he tried to feed off of animals. It went as horrible as he expected. And when you didn’t show up today, he didn’t know if he’s euphoric from the break from you or dejected because you need a break from him. 

So when the door chimes this evening, and there you are again, he doesn’t know how to feel nor react. Jungkook’s throat burns in an instant, his thirst intensifying to infinity. He considers closing the shop early, but your smile as you approach the counter makes him change his mind. 

“Hi, Jungkook.” Your cheerfulness is infectious, despite his inner turmoil.

“Hi. The usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” You lean in closer, and he catches your scent full force. It’s torture and pleasure combined. Oh, what a beautiful drug you seem to be to him. 

As he prepares your drink, he overhears a couple of vampires discussing you. His glare silences them instantly. No one must threaten you. Not while he’s here.

“Today’s been so busy, I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Oh, what am I saying? I’m not your only customer. You’re clearly busy all day and probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t here.” You’re so cute, he wants to eat you. Literally.

“I’ve noticed” Your eyes meet his as he hands you the latte, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. He can see your racing heart, all the veins zeroed into his sight. Your blood is being pumped furiously through your whole system. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Anytime…” His voice is softer than intended, startling him to the core. He needs to fucking feed. 

You say your name in the lightest voice he has ever heard in all his centuries, and he thinks he might faint for some inexplicable reason.

After you've left, he's seconds away from murder when Hobi, sipping his actual crimson latte by the window, teases, “You’re so whipped.”

 Monday Morning - One Week Later

Okay. So. You haven’t shown up since Wednesday evening.

By Friday, Jungkook ordered his subordinates to comb through the whole city to search for you and make sure you were fine. They came back empty-handed.

So, on Saturday, he did it himself.

On the positive side, he could feed on some stray cats. It still tasted like shit, but he managed to suppress the gag reflex.

On the negative side, he didn’t find you. Your scent is unique to him; he's sure he could find it in the middle of an overcrowded stadium, but for some unknown reason, he couldn’t trace it at all.

Thinking it had to do with the nauseating taste of the cats, he searched the rest of the weekend. Every corner, every nook of this shit hole of a city, but it was as if you had disappeared into thin air.

To say he’s surprised to see you enter his shop this morning would be an understatement.

You look drained. The colour and brightness he’s used to seeing you radiate are dull. Your face is sunken in, and your eyes lack their usual sparkle.

“Good morning, Jungkook.” Your voice sounds hoarse, void of the warmth he learned to yearn for in your absence.

“Where were you?” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out this grave, and he winces internally when you look startled and take a step back. “Sorry…”

“I... I needed to go back to... to my hometown for a couple of days. I…” Your pupils tremble, and Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re scared of him or what happened in your hometown. “I forgot some important stuff there... and... it was hard to come back here.”

You’re a riddle. He just can’t figure you out. But the person he sees before him isn’t the girl he got to know. Yes, he doesn’t know much about you, but he knows that this isn’t you—this is a shadow of who you can be.

“You’re regretting coming back?” He needs to know if your state is due to leaving your hometown or leaving this city.

So, when your eyes shine with a silver lining on your lower lash line, and your voice breaks in a barely audible hush saying, “No,” he knows he’s going to take matters into his own hands.

“Good you’re back then.” He stares into your eyes, a flicker of warmth returning at his words. “The usual?” A tiny nod from you is answer enough for him to prepare your latte.

“You heard her. Find this hometown and figure out what happened.” At that, three vampires rise from their seats and are gone within seconds as you look on curiously.

“Jungkook?” His hand halts mid-air as he’s just about to reach for the strawberry syrup, your small voice blaring in his every fibre.

He doesn’t move when you whisper, your voice oh so fragile, “Thank you.”

He stares at his hand, which still hovers mid-air. What should he do? What would be appropriate human behaviour? He doesn’t know anymore. He’s too far gone to know that after centuries of being this emotionless creature. But is he really that emotionless when his dead heart seems to stir since he met you? He isn’t sure anymore.

Nodding once, he hopes it suffices. And when he’s done with your cup and turns around, he knows it did. Because the small smile and gentle sparkle in your eyes are something he seems to reciprocate without wanting to.

“You’re an angel, thank you.” Both your hands gently take the cup out of his large one, brushing them so feathery and warm that it isn’t a jolt that runs through Jungkook’s body but a sparkle as bright and soothing as the light in your eyes when you gaze at him.

Tuesday Morning

When you enter today, you’re wearing cozy loungewear and carrying a book in one hand.

So adorable.

So when you step towards the counter, Jungkook can’t help but lean on it with his elbows to be closer to you. He takes a deep breath of your scent and he’s high again. Even though it amplifies his hunger, your scent has become his drug, and he can’t resist it anymore.

“Good morning, ___,” he hears himself purr, and when a chorus of laughs echoes in his mind, he really couldn’t care less. Because in his vision, there’s only you. He wonders, do you see anyone other than him, too?

“Hey, Jungkook. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” you chirp, now standing so close he can almost taste your blood on his tongue. The pulse at your neck calls his name.

“It’s quite buzzing,” he husks. If only you knew that it’s you who has him all buzzed. If he could just have a little taste...

“Is it okay if I stay in today? I’m off of work and it’s getting so lonely at my apartment…” You bat your eyelashes at him, and those tiny waves of air drifting into his face nearly make him fall to his knees.

“Of course.” He licks his lips, imagining the taste of you on them.

You look down at the motion. “Good,” you husk back, equally drunk on him, it seems.

“The usual?” Jungkook straightens, no longer able to be this close to you. A flash of disappointment washes over your face and he sees you retreating into yourself even more.

“Yes, please,” you say rather sadly, staring at the counter separating you.

As he pours the coffee into your cup, the door chimes.

“JK, we found out what happened,” one says breathlessly.

When he turns briefly, you look at the three vampires skeptically. All three are standing in the middle of the room, staring at Jungkook without saying a word.

“Hey guys, take your seats, I’ll be there in a minute.” Jungkook glares over your head at them. They seem to get the message and do as he says.

“Next time make it more obvious, will you?” The irritation oozes off him and he finishes your latte with more force than necessary.

When he turns around and sees you, still so innocently looking into his eyes as if he were a hero just for existing, his irritation vanishes instantly.

“Here you go, beautiful.” WHY DID HE SAY THAT?!

Your heart stops, then you turn as red as the blood in your veins, and your heartbeat hums as fast as a hummingbird’s. Please don’t die...

“Thank you.” You take your cup with shaky hands and stumble slightly to a free nook, sitting down and staring at the cover of your book until he hears your heart go back to normal.

He walks over to the three vampires who investigated what happened to you, and when they tell him what your uncle did to you again and again, he unleashes the beast he’s known for.

Hushed as the whole conversation, he orders with a sinister smile, “Go kill him and everyone who knew and didn’t do shit.”

The rest of the day he spends watching over you, bringing you more lattes on the house, and using every opportunity to stand near you.

At midday, you ask if he serves anything to eat, and even though he knows he doesn’t—well, for humans he doesn’t—he says he’ll bring you some pastry.

“Go to the bakery at the other end of the city and bring some cake as fast as you can,” he orders Hobi, who chuckles and shakes his head but goes immediately.

He’s back in a couple of seconds.

As Jungkook serves you the cake as if it were his, you thank him profoundly. “You take such good care of me.”

If he had blood running through his veins, he would blush. So he flees to the backroom to shred the packaging, destroying all evidence of his care for you.

Wednesday Morning

You enter the coffee shop again, wearing a beautiful dress, but your gaze is fixed on the phone you're clutching in your hand.

Like a puppet on autopilot, you stand before Jungkook, not once looking up.

"The usual, please."

Jungkook doesn't like this. Why aren't you looking at him? What's with you?

Did something happen again? "Are you alright?"

At that, you finally look up, startled like prey facing a predator. You're clearly in shock, and he's sure it's not because of him.

"He's dead," you mumble.

"Who?" He knows.

"My uncle." You sigh, a smile spreading on your face. Not your usual one, but one that's neither fully sinister nor relieved. A perfect blend, he concludes.

The darkness suits you.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"I hope he rots in hell."

Jungkook snorts, and your loud laugh in response is music to his ears. 

"So, the usual for celebration today?"

"Hell yeah!" You cheer, which earns you some agreeing laughs from the other patrons around you.

Your eyes sparkle more than ever.

Jungkook turns around, the euphoria in your veins too strong for him to ignore the hunger screaming inside him.

"I'm finally free. I can go wherever I want now," you muse behind him while Jungkook's heart drops to the cold, hard floor.

No. No, no, no. That was not the plan.

"Will you leave?" His nerves are over the roof, and even though his instincts urge him to drink you dry, he turns around to gauge your reaction.

"No." Your voice is determined, not any less euphoric than minutes ago. "I'm safe here, aren't I?"

There's a challenge in your eyes. As if you're aware of where you are, who he is, who you're with at the moment.

Jungkook cocks his head sideways, challenging back, "Are you?"

The glee on your face is replaced by the most unarmed look he has seen in his life. Your eyes drip with adoration and devotion when you say, "I'm safe when I'm with you."

"Leave. Now." He barks out, and while the coffee shop starts to empty, your delicate voice calls after them, "Yeah, please leave."

The room freezes, every vampire on high alert when they realise you could hear all they ever said to each other.

Jungkook watches you sharply, calculating the threat you might pose.

But when nothing seems suspicious or even dangerous, he nods to the others, and they fly out.

The silence between you and him hangs heavy, your heartbeat gaining in power and speed with every second.

"What are you?" Jungkook forces out.

Your eyes soften even more at him, tears collecting again at your lower lashes. "I don't know."

He knows you're telling the truth. So when your next words reach him, he can't hold back any longer.

"Please don't make me leave you."

Jungkook springs over the counter, embracing your tiny, fragile form in his arms. When your fingers cling onto his tall frame as if your life depends on it, and you turn your neck to offer him your carotid artery, he's a goner.

You're not only his new drug but also his only supplier.

"Please don't ever let me go." 

Your words flutter against his whole being, intoxicating him further. And it's the squeeze of your tiny hand on his right bicep that unleashes him. He takes a deep breath of your scent and sinks his fangs into your neck.

You moan instantly, running your right hand through the hair on his neck.

You're it for him. He was right. You're fucking it for him. He'll never go back from you. Your taste invades his mouth, and every cell in his body sings with it. The buzz is so strong, he thinks it compares to a golden shot.

"I love you so much," you whisper, your hands running softly over his cold skin.

He retreats, high on you, pupils dilated, with a mouth smeared with your blood.

You look up at him with hooded eyes, the love and admiration pouring into his with every second.

It has been 811 years, 279 days, 15 hours, and 34 minutes since he started walking on Earth. 811 years, 279 days, 15 hours, and 34 minutes until he finally says the words for the first time:

"I love you."

__________________________________________

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

[that-left-turn]

Do you think the spinoff budget for writing is really low? I'm trying to understand why the writing is so bad when we used to have writing like the cherokee rose and "we have a future" etc.

[I can answer this in one sentence, but I'm not sure if it'll mean anything without context, so I'll put that behind a cut.]

Things vary a bit between studios and also with what kind of show it is that's produced, but the short answer to your question is: the writing can only ever be as good as the showrunner is at their job.

The studio makes a deal with the showrunner who hires people for the writers' room. WGA has established certain rates and fees that the writers get, but what kind of deal the studio strikes with the showrunner depends on their track record and reputation. Do they produce quality shows? Do they bring viewers on the strength of their previous work? Do they produce on time and under budget? Do they run a smooth, low-maintenance cast/crew? A seasoned showrunner who's a good plotter and knows how to keep trouble at bay, whether that's production hiccups or BTS antics, is worth a bigger paycheck.

Studios are obsessed with mini rooms these days and they like to let the rest of the writers go after pre-production, so the showrunner is often the only writer seeing the project through production, providing writing services on the set. The writers' room has to have at least three producer-level writers who has the necessary experience and skill level to manage a project, but if a show is shot on location, the studio normally doesn't want to send writers out (on-set experience is vital to learn how to produce) as a measure of cost cutting.

Anyway, the room breaks the story based on the showrunner's vision. The showrunner assigns who writes what episode. An episode goes through several stages (from outline to treatment to draft), all of which will be read and get notes by other people. Usually the second highest ranking writer does most of the hand-holding because the showrunner is busy with other things, but it depends on the size of the production and the room itself. If it's a small room and a short season, the showrunner might have eyes on everything at every stage.

Nothing passes from the room to the studio (or N/W EPs) without the showrunner having signed off on it. There's always a lot of people having many opinions on a script and it will go through many drafts before it gets 'locked' and handed over to the production crew to turn it into a production (shooting) script. Even after this point, the script isn't actually done. If the director has an opinion on something during the shoot, there might be changes to a scene. If a location becomes unavailable, the weather changes, someone has a rash/limp/bruise... physical changes necessitate on-set writing services. Things can get changed/tweaked in post-production too, e.g. a line will get rerecorded or cut.

Everything about a TV show is in a state of flux until post-production is done and the studio has approved the final version.

That's my roundabout way of saying that the writing can only be as good as the showrunner is. The showrunner decides on the pitch. It's their vision and tone for the show. It's the job of the other writers to replicate that voice. Showrunners will go in and rewrite things however they see fit, so it happens that things 'degrade' in revision if the showrunner is the weaker writer. A good showrunner recognizes the different strengths of their writers, puts the right person to write the right script and lets the writers feel like their contributions matter.

Individual writers have so little control of the content or the form, so it's up to the showrunner to manage them. Give them moments to shine, but for that to happen, the showrunner needs to have some self-awareness and be willing to incorporate new and better ideas when their writers pitch things. A big part of being the head writer of a show is the ability to listen to others who have more knowledge (or better imagination!) than you do, but the showrunner should be the strongest plotter on the show.

Obviously, AMC didn't pay for a showrunner who has worked steadily, who's adapted their skills to the new market model, or who values the input of others. Zabel's background is in traditional broadcast TV, writing procedural shows where characters are expected to service the external plot and get 'reset' to a certain degree at the end of the episode—there's not much character progression over a season. Zabel is far outside his comfort zone working in a new genre that he seems to have no more interest in than he does his inherited main character's backstory.

You get what you pay for and AMC didn't pay for top-shelf. They didn't even shell out for a halfway decent writer who's familiar with the source material. Zabel is the very definition of 'priced for a fast sell,' but that also makes him easy to control. He doesn't quite know what he should be doing or how, and he owes the male EPs for picking him out of that bargain bin.

That's why the writing is bad.

[redux-iterum]

if you dont mind me asking, how do you come up with ideas? im trying really hard to make my own rewrite/redux but im struggling with getting ideas that havent already been done

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask about this, because ideas come to me without me thinking about it, but I'll try to offer some advice here.

When I started the Redux, my ideas for the story were all based in subversion, which is a very poor source, so don't do that. What lingered to Iterum were the worldbuilding ideas - the mythology, the cultures, the Clans' appearances - which I designed by just having fun and not trying to stick too close to canon. I wanted a character that spoke through other animals, so I did that, and so on. I got lucky that rewrites were a very early concept back then, so I didn't have a lot of competition, but even now I feel like Iterum stands out for the worldbuilding. I think. I don't read other rewrites.

The point is that I would suggest you focus on having fun with it and doing what you would like to see. It doesn't have to "fix" canon - it can just be an AU or an expansion of the small ideas gleaned from the books. Focusing on worldbuilding would help a lot, because with enough material you can build darn near anything, especially a story. In that field, anything could go - myths about the personification of the allure of kittypet life, new locations within the territories, a set of beliefs held by one Clan exactly, and so on. And if you rewrite how the Clans individually behave, that's all the more room to get creative. They could even worship different gods and have different holidays, if you get funky with it!

I know the feeling of being frustrated that it seems like everything you come up with has already been done. That's true for every single story idea that's ever happened, in or out of this fandom. To that, my advice is to not worry about being super unique or special. If you have an idea, and someone else has done it, think about how your version of it would go. The moon is an aspect of a god, for example, but someone already made it the god's eye. Well, you can make it their teeth being covered by their mouth, or their soul dying and being reborn over and over again. Stuff like that! You can do it like you in a way no one else can. Even sharing ideas can be written differently enough that they feel completely separate.

That holds true for plots as well. Even if you have a plan for, say, Tigerclaw to be a good person, he can be a good person in any myriad of ways. He could be philanthropic, or well-intentioned if aggressive, or a father to his apprentices. So on and so forth. There are a lot of ways to write a character and a story, and there are a lot of ways to do something done before in your own fashion, in a way that makes your stuff unique.

Overall, the core of my advice is "think of ideas you like and write them in your voice". Don't copy and paste, obviously, but being inspired or doing a trope done before is not a bad thing.

[swiftiefirefighters]

i guess i just jotted down a several sentences sunday that's a bit of a continuation of the little proposal i wrote last night. i've had this bit of, like, buddie talking about how they Could Have Been in another life for a while and in it it's always happening in this exactly situation. i don't think i'll ever write a longer fic but i thought i could make it part of that universe.

buck/tommy but mostly buck/eddie as the platonic soulmateism variety on buck and tommy's wedding day. i hope you enjoy it. please tell me if you do.

"so what are you thinking about, buckley?" eddie steps into the room. he's wearing a suit and his hair is loose and falling into his face. if buck didn't know better, he'd think eddie was trying to show him up on his own wedding day.

"my name isn't going to be buckley in like an hour." he turns around, sucking in a breath. "do you think i chose the right suit? maybe i should have gone with the green."

"the blue is perfect. everyone will be lucky if tommy doesn't rip it off you right there at the alter." eddie adjusts buck's tie ever so slightly.

"right." buck laughs and ducks his head.

"i'm still calling you buck. i am not going to start calling you evan."

"no, please don't. weird." buck laughs.

"are you nervous?"

"oh for fucking sure." buck breathes in. "what if he leaves me at the aisle?"

"tommy? no way, man. he's been in love with you since you met. do you remember what an asshole you acted like? you fucking broke my leg, buck!"

"you sprained your ankle. don't be dramatic." he laughs quietly. "oh god, you're going to talk about that in your best man's speech, aren't you?"

"guess you'll have to wait and find out."

"such an asshole."

"that's why i'm your best friend."

"dad! they're ready for buck!" chris pops his head into the room and then immediately ducks back out.

"well, that's it then. you're about to be off the market."

"i think i've been off the market for a while."

"maybe." eddie brushes some lint off buck's shoulder. "you look great. tommy is a lucky man. you are too. you deserve this."

"you know," buck laughs. "there was a time when - i don't know. i know before tommy i didn't really - " buck waves his hand around. "but i did wonder about us."

"us?" eddie raises an eyebrow.

"you know, yeah. i watched you get shot in front of me and just thought, if i lose him now - " he shrugs. "but then you were fine and you were with ana and i just let it pass. we were both straight - i thought we were both straight, anyway." buck grins. "but in another life - "

"you wish, buckley." eddie rolls his eyes. "but yeah, maybe. maybe in another life the last thought before i thought i was dying was i love him and he'll never know."

"damn, we really could have been epic."

"nah, this is how it was supposed to happen."

"you're right, diaz. don't let it go to your head. would have been fun, maybe, to have a fling, though."

"i'm gonna tell your husband you said that. i'm rewriting my speech as we speak."

"if you tell my new husband i confessed i had a lapse in judgement half a decade ago, i swear to god!"

"hey, you're the one who told me on your wedding day!"

"eddie!" buck laughs. "i do love you, you know. you're my best friend."

"yeah, i'm the best. it's true." eddie hugs around buck and grips the back of his neck, tightly. "you're more than my best friend. hope tommy realizes that he's marrying you, but i'm part of the deal."

"oh he definitely knows that."

"BUCK!"

"when did chris get so loud?" buck snorts.

"he gets that from you." there's a twinkle in eddie's eye. "i hope tommy also knows he's a step dad to a teenager who's angling for a car for his 16th birthday."

"oh chris has already started telling him about it."

"come on, lets go walk you down the aisle before chris goes to get maddie to come yell at you, buckley. or should i say Mr. Evan Kinard." eddie hooks his arm in buck's.

"that sounds so fucking good."

"yeah, yeah it sounds pretty right."

buck grins and lets eddie lead him to the hall where his future husband is waiting.

[castielific]

20 questions for fic writers

How many works do you have on A03? 25

What's your total word count? 454 434 words

What fandoms do you write for? Supernatural. My first english fics were about Teen Wolf. Before that, I wrote in french about House MD and Stargate Sg1.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

Baby One More Time (sterek): 4 142 kudos

Carry You Home (sterek): 2 157 kudos

Fancy and the Tramp (destiel): 1 147 kudos

But she's the Devil in Disguise (sterek): 1 030 kudos

Grace my Soul (destiel): 891 kudos

Do you respond to comments?

Not all of them. Mostly because sometimes I'm not sure how to respond and feel ridiculous saying the same thing again and again. I appreciate them all though. They all make me so happy and I'm grateful to those who takes the time to leave one. They always make my day.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Like Clipped Petunias (destiel). This is my darkest fic. I've had people telling me they had PTSD from it. The end is really angsty and horrifying. It was not supposed to end this way, but this is where the story took me. In the end, I think it fits.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Grace my Soul (destiel) comes to mind. Baby Jimmy is such a delight and the last chapter of that fic is my favorite one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I don't remember ever getting any. I did have a few problems with people stealing my stories or posting them elsewhere. In the past, I also had a few stalkers/stans sending messages that creeped me out (especially for my french fics).

Do you write smut?

Yes! I didn't used to for Teen Wolf, but I've realized that fic with a higher rating tends to get more views (which I get because I rarely read pg13 or under myself), so I started writing it. I both love and hate writing those parts. It always feels kind of awkward to share those imageries, I'm never sure what words to use or how far I should go.

Craziest crossover?

I have a WIP that was a Psych/Teen Wolf crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. More than once. I've had a few cases of people putting their own name on my stories, but mostly people repost it without my consent on other websites such as wattpad. Ao3 is the only place I post, so if you see one of my story elsewhere, it's been stolen. Please warn me if you do.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's such an amazing thing to think about! I have had translations in spanish, russian and chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once or twice. To be honest, I think I'm too OCD for it to work, I want it exactly as I want it lol. Help from betareaders is precious though, sometimes they write a couple paragraphs for me, or help me reformulate some things better, or just brainstorm the stoyline with me and give me brillant ideas. Fics are always better with some help.

All-time favorite ship? Destiel forever bb

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Frozen Inside (sterek) is the only WIP I've ever posted. I feel terribly guilty about it because it's been more than half a decade now and people are still asking me for a sequel. Sometimes I read it over and try, but it's just...done. Thankfully, the last chapter could be taken as a end. Kind of. God, I feel awful and I'm so sorry.

I also have tons of unpublished wip that are nearly over. I wish I'll be able to end them, because there are some stories I really really like.

What are your writing strengths?

Hyperfocus. My best stories come out that way. I'll write fifty thousand words in two days or not at all. Sadly, I can't control it. Inspiration also tend to come at the exact moment I can't possibly write, which is sooo frustrating.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description and world building. I tend to focus too much on the action and dialogues, but forget to tell about where they are and when. I let readers fill the blank way too often, which is something I really need to work on. I've been trying to rewrite some of my fics into original stories and that made it very obvious to me.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. Sometimes the translation is in the end note and it can put me out of the story, especially if it's an important part of the dialogue. If it's just a few words or if it's done in a way you understand it anyway, it can be beautiful!

First fandom you ever wrote in? Stargate SG1.

Favorite fic you've written?

The Guy Next Door (destiel), I think. I laughed, I cried, I squealed, I facepalmed. I must have looked like a maniac writing that story. Castiel was very fun to write for that one. Dean...I wanted to slap Dean so many times while I wrote. I had no control over him, I swear, he kept on being an idiot and made me scream at my screen.

I was surprised earlier, that this fic is not in the top five stories because it's one of my personal favorite.

This exercise was very fun to do. I won't tag anyone, if you feel like doing it, just do it, I'm curious to read about all of you!