#it's finally finished i did this scene in january or something

[tsuki-in-faerun]

Brilliance

explicit, MDNI - no one under 18 years old please.

tav/astarion post-boss fight at cazador's. there's a lot to dig into beyond the canon when it comes to agency and a realistic path toward healing. in this series, this is tav and astarion's first time together. feat. a chopped and screwed version of the 'pale elf' ending quest dialogue.

gnc tav, unnamed tav, they/them pussy, gender neutral tits. karlach is ot3 with these two in the series but she's not involved in the smut this time.

“To the lives we lead To the dreams we chase To the moments that we make And the fucked up shit we can’t erase”

-Nate Wonder giving a toast on the outro of “Float” by Janelle Monae

The scene by the graveside turns into a picnic after you tell him you just want to spend some time together unwinding from the battle. Astarion feeds you grapes, one by one, and nicks the base of your thumb to feed himself. A taste of passion. When he has the audacity to call the others in camp ‘feral’ without both your guidance, you’re so caught off guard that you double up laughing. The sound of it bounces off every surface in the graveyard, surrounding you both. Astarion listens with a pensive expression to the cacophony of his lover’s laughter in the place where he was buried and reborn. A holy racket.

You both take comfort in a long embrace goodnight back at camp. There is still a pull between you when you separate, reaching for each other’s hands. Even when you let go, the Warding Bond you used during the fight surrounds each of you as you go to your rest. But tonight is a night for reflection. He deserves some space to process and, to be honest, you might need some, too.

Shadowheart and Karlach are sitting together by the fire. You go to meet them but the last few steps you take are shaky. Karlach springs into action, wrapping you in a great big bear hug. You cling to her, tears spilling over, as Shadowheart begins a healing hum.

“I had to let him go,” you cry. “In my heart, I mean. I had to be ready to lose him. I knew that loving him could only do so much. I was trying so hard not to spoil everything!”

Karlach rocks you, kisses your head. “You did good, soldier.” she says with patient tenderness. “You held it together, we got Astarion out of his bonds. And he made his choice to leave with us as a free man. Did something happen when you went off together?”

You sigh, smile with watery eyes. “A heart to heart. He says he’s ready to try living again, but it’s not hard to see that he’s still figuring things out. I almost felt like I was intruding.” A snort of frustration. “I have to keep telling myself that he wants me to be there. He brought me there; he wants to share this with me. I just… everything is so raw still. I feel like if I touch him we’ll both come away bleeding.” You swipe at your face but the tears don’t stop coming.

Shadowheart looks up at you. “I have some potted plants near my tent. Would you like me to bring one here?’

“That’s - a good idea, thank you - princess,” you hiccup and while Shadowheart jogs away from the fire, you turn to press your face against Karlach’s collarbone. She enfolds you in her arms, shushes and pets you.

Shadowheart comes back waddling a bit, but in a good solid horse stance, carrying the big potted palm. She sets it down next to you and brushes the dirt off her hands.

You sink to your knees in relief and wrap your arms around the ceramic.

Karlach sits down and throws her arms around the little palm tree as well.

Shadowheart kneels seiza beside you. You water the tree with your tears some. You keep your awareness with the droplets as they fall and absorb into the soil, letting your mind be still and slow like the water soaking into the roots of the plant. The roots draw moisture up and you are reminded of your own circulation and heartbeat, steadying now in your meditation. There is a silent reassurance emanating from your plant friend.

“Do you wanna talk anymore?” Karlach asks.

You stroke her shoulder, still holding the plant pot between you. “I’m so lucky to love this much,” you tell her, voice quavering. “But it - it hurts. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, my Heart. I’m just battle worn.”

You feel Shadowheart’s hand tracing comforting circles on your back. “It is difficult, as a healer, to keep repairing as quickly as the damage is inflicted.” She says quietly.

You sigh heavily and your head drops from exhaustion. “Yes. Especially when I’m taking damage, too. I’m glad we did the Bond, but being present with him in his body like that was… a lot.”

You manage to lift your gaze to look at your companions. “Thank you both for having my back and saving our lives.” Karlach lets go of the plant to come cuddle you instead. Her kisses on your face are a balm to your battered soul, and she showers you with gentle affection. You rest your weary head on Karlach’s warm shoulder and take one of Shadowheart’s hands in yours.

“You did so well around the wolves, princess.” You tell Shadowheart, giving her a squeeze. “How are you now?”

She sighs and tells you about how her fears have evolved following her confrontation with the Sharrans. The three of you chat about the day, about your journey so far, and comfort each other with open arms.

When it becomes hard to resist your eyes closing, Shadowheart piles her bedroll next to the one you share with Karlach and the animals wedge their way in.

***

As soon as your eyes open the next morning, you get up to seek out Astarion. You do your best to slip out from between Karlach and Shadowheart without waking them, but Karlach reaches for you as you get to your feet. You interlock your fingers with hers. “Tell him we love him, even if he pouts,” she yawns. You nod and press your lips to the back of her hand before taking your leave. You rinse your mouth with the dregs of last night’s tea and spit it into the ashes of the fire, slipping on your soft shoes.

Astarion is already in full armor when you go to him. You suddenly feel very conscious of the space between you. You ache to close the distance but some things need to be said first.

“Good morning,” you finally greet him. “How are you, beloved?”

He fidgets. “It feels ridiculous to still be thinking about Cazador. He’s gone, I’m here - I won.” A scowl. “But I keep reliving everything that happened. Playing it over and over again in my mind.”

“I don’t know if it’s quite as simple as ‘you won.’” You say slowly. “Even if the battle was just you avenging yourself against Cazador. But as it is, you also had to face the only family you know… that place. And your memories.”

You catch his eye. “Some of the people you thought you lost to Cazador might be free now.”

Astarion glances down and you can tell he’s wrestling with himself. “I freed them. But I also damned them.”

“You might have loved some of them, if circumstances had allowed.” His eyes snap to yours again. You smile at him. “The folk like Sebastian. I was moved.”

“Would you call it love?” Astarion puts his hands behind his head and shrugs. His tone is bitter. “Whatever I felt, when I felt anything at all, it was their doom. But I suppose that’s one of the consequences of freedom, isn’t it? Living with the choices you’ve made.”

You take a deep breath. “Living with the choices you’ve made can mean lots of things. Like this.” You offer your hands. Slowly, with care, he takes them.

“You can always get better at loving, Astarion, if that’s what you want. Even if the consequences of your choices are heavy, you’re not facing them alone. Every being here is at your side ’til the bitter end. And I do think that you will relish the chance to explore what you can be outside of pain and power plays.”

He shakes his head, agitated. His grip tightens. “Mmm. I- I came so close to losing everything back there. To losing myself. Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it. Just as Cazador was.”

Astarion twines his fingers with yours.

“You saved me. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do now. Thank you.”

You look down at your hands clasped in front of you, heart full to overflowing. “I only did as my nature dictated. You were fighting your own battles and I was glad to have your back.”

“And if I had completed the ritual?”

You look up at him again. “You want to hear it now?”

His eyes are wide but his gaze is steady. “Yes.”

“I would have fought you til my last breath, beloved. Or yours. Your ambitions would have made a slave of me.”

He hesitates. “… And you’ve considered this before.”

“Many times.”

Astarion just spreads his hands, mouth open, speechless.

“I had to give you the best chance I could to find your feet.” You say quietly. “I told you I would do everything in my power to help you find peace and liberation. To determine the course of your own life. You deserve that as a thinking, feeling being, not just because you’re precious to me. Not just because you’ve suffered, either. You can’t tell me it wasn’t worth the risk when we are standing here together in the sunlight surrounded by people who love us.”

He starts to laugh incredulously, putting his head in his hands, a dazed expression on his face. He slaps a hand over his mouth, chortling, and looks at you with wide, staring eyes. “We are, at that. You… you kept your word.” He finally sees, really sees, where you are and the clan you’ve built around you.

Then he sighs and looks to the horizon, blinking in the light and shaking his head. “When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now. I can be whoever I decide Astarion is. And I get to share it, him, me… with you. As a partner. As an equal. This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won’t forget it.”

You smile and sigh yourself. It’s hard to keep from welling up so you don’t try. An uneasy tension that has stretched between the two of you since your first meeting unbinds in this moment. You savor the release and let it give you strength.

The salt wind off the harbor blows strands of your hair around your face. Astarion reaches out to smooth them down. “Darling, did you rest in those braids?” He asks. “You’ve got flyaways all over the place.”

“I barely had enough energy to crawl into my bedroll last night.” You admit, reaching up to pat your head. “Did you do them so fancy yesterday because you were nervous? I don’t even know where to start taking them out, I can’t see the back of my head!”

“It was calming to have something tactile to focus on,” he admits. He steps closer, stroking your hair, caressing your face. “And you do cut a striking figure. I will never forget the image of you reaching out to me when I was trapped, my love.”

“I shall never forget the way you’re looking at me right now,” you say with the greatest affection. “Mmmm, kiss, please?”

Even his laugh is freer. “My sweet, I would like nothing better.”

He gathers you into his arms and you quickly realize how prickly his drow armor is when you’re just in your everyday clothes. “Ouch!”
 “Oops, sorry. Probably a design feature given the provenance.” He says.

You tilt your head playfully. “Hmm. How do you feel about getting more comfortable in your tent? Without the armor, I mean.”

He raises his eyebrows. “D’you mean?… sex, now?” You nod. “Sex. Now!”

He pulls you by the hand into his tent.

You hear Karlach yell across the camp. “So, who’s up for some pints?! Yenna, you feel like meeting a bard we know?” Everybody in the party sounds highly motivated to go day drinking.

Astarion closes the flap at the entrance and you get a chance to look around. There’s a very plush quilt on the ground along with several embroidered pillows, and a charcoal brazier is dying down to its last little embers after burning overnight.

You give him a stunned look.

“You stole my shit!”

You laugh like a loon as he just kind of blinks and shrugs. “Well, I was planning for a big night last night and I wanted you to be comfortable.”

“Beloved, please get out of that armor so I can kiss your face.”

He gives you his patented seductive smirk and gets to work undoing the buckles and straps holding everything together. Even with his practiced fingers, the pieces take some time to get off.

You sit down on your handmade quilt, and stretch your legs out in front of you, pointing and flexing your toes. You rearrange a couple of pillows behind your back and stretch your arms out overhead, leaning back into the motion. There’s a little nervous energy crackling in the air. After his pauldrons come up over his head, Astarion’s hair goes a little bit wild, like dandelion fluff, then the breastplate comes off and he’s down to his undershirt and trousers. He drops to his knees and crawls toward you, eyes smouldering. You bite your lip and feel a curl of satisfaction that doesn’t come from you. You become more aware of the edges of your auras blending together.

You don’t ground the sensation this time. You caress him without touching, a tendril of warmth pulled from the center of your heart winding through his awareness.

When you lean forward to brush your lips against his cheek, you feel the warmth in your heart begin to saturate your being. It emanates from you, radiates from you, and Astarion pulls away to look at you.

“Is this magic?”

“Erm, sort of. In the sense that connection is magical.” You say. “I… this is simply me with my shields down.”

He sits back on his heels, wearing an expression of scrutiny. He picks up one of your hands and kisses your fingertips, one by one. You flush, watching his face knowing that he can feel echos of your pleasure. Can he smell any changes in your scent? Hear your breathing and heartbeat get faster? Locking eyes with you, he bites down on the pad of your thumb with his blunt front teeth. You suck in a breath with a hiss, sitting straight up, chills running up and down your spine. Your flesh throbs between his teeth and you feel a flash of triumph from him before he lets go.

“And the effect goes both ways? You can feel me?”

“As long as you let me inside your defenses, yes. You have a potent presence, beloved.” He smirks in response.

Astarion moves in for a kiss through the haze of your arousal in the air. You can feel that he is pleased with himself, but his own passion only rises to meet yours as your lips touch, the kiss deepening immediately. You feel this facet of his hunger in a new way, it almost pulls at your bones. A longing to connect beneath the skin.

Every touch feels magnified. Like two stringed instruments vibrating to the same note, the edges of your individual perception blurs with his as the sensations you experience harmonize. Joining. Blending. Sharing. Your nerve endings sing to each other.

He breaks away to rest his forehead against yours. His head is buzzing. You take deep, slow breaths and empty your mind. You focus again on the warmth you feel for him in your heart.

“S-sorry.” His voice sounds worn somehow.

“Love you.” You feel him relax, sigh at your words. ”Not going anywhere.”

He holds still on hands and knees above your reclining body.

“Do you want soothing touch?”

“Mmm. Mmm-hmm. Ahem…yes.”

You nuzzle your face against Astarion’s. You stroke his upper arms and press your cheek to his cheek, slide your jaw along his like big cats scent marking. You rub your temples together and he inhales a whiff of your hair.

“thank you for saying the words,” you say softly next to his ear. “thank you for telling me what you want.”

You take his face in both your hands and whisper, “we can just be in each other’s energy, too. we don’t have to worry about what body parts go where. there’s no goal. there’s no rush. i want to know all of you.”

He raises his gaze to meet yours and you become aware of his lack of a heartbeat. A space that is at once full of shadows and empty of sensation exists between his lungs.

Your gentle smile carries the brightness of the sun and memories of golden afternoons. He half flinches, shudders, and you feel his hunger roar to life, filling the chasm in his chest with its reverberations.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes hold you. “I still want sex.” He says bluntly. “I need something. I need to be covered with you.”

Your heart is pounding and you can both hear it. “That - yes. Me, too.”

You watch his predator’s vision narrow focus on your face and the part of you that is a doorway to wild shape responds. You growl much more deeply than your vocal cords should allow.

Astarion growls with you and lays his body along the length of yours. Yes, there is sweetness between you, deep care, but also the blood of the hunt. Of the battlefield. Your life’s blood. You feel the connection pulsing in your veins. Even if his own heart is still something of a stranger to him, he is intimately familiar with his appetites. As are you. You press up into his chest to feel his voice rumbling through your flesh. He kisses your neck, sucks, licks, nibbles, pulling sensations out of you that feed his own desire, too, and you scratch your nails down his back, dragging at the cloth.

Now the energy is more like a push and pull. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand, kiss his brow and his eyelids, stroke the back of his neck. He leans into every touch, soaking in your body heat and your tenderness. When he kisses you again, you can taste the force that animates him in it. A yin to your yang.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” you hum with pleasure, warm and vibrant life force rippling from your voice. Astarion gasps, pupils dilated. You trace his bottom lip with your thumb and press the tip against one of his fangs. He feels the pain zap through you, watches it on your face, and kisses your wound before he takes your whole digit in his mouth. You spread your legs and start moving your pelvis against him and a garbled “Unh!” spills out from around your thumb. When he tastes you, you can feel your blood suffusing him and sharpening his senses. You feel him drinking your pleasure itself and the flavor of it washes over your tongue. It spreads warmth inside your chest like good liquor.

He releases your thumb to bend his head to your collarbone. He’s hungry for your soft places. Astarion makes sounds of delectation as he kisses his way down your shoulder, your arm, the crease of your elbow, inside your wrist, your palm. He sits up to pull his shirt off and then he holds you tight. His skin is cool at first. The touch of his torso against yours raises prickly gooseflesh and makes your nipples tighten. For his part, you can feel how welcoming he finds your heat as he snuggles in close.

It doesn’t take him long to warm. He’s been well-fed for quite some time now.

You flutter your eyelashes against his cheek and he chuffs a little laugh next to your ear.

“Darling, don’t be cute when I’m trying to ravage you.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to feel you with every part of my body?”

Astarion strokes your hair, sighs against your neck, nuzzling your face.

“I suppose when you put it like that… Should we get rid of the rest of these clothes?”

You look into his eyes and see happiness there. You kiss him, a bloom of heat that catches and spreads between you.

“Yes.”

You each sit up and undress, watching the other in the dappled shade of the tent.

His gaze has weight. You touch yourself where his eyes roam across your newly exposed skin. His nostrils flare and he raises his head. You can feel, and see as well, evidence of how exciting he finds this exploration. You can feel him basking in your joy.

He kisses you and you let your hands play across his chest, his shoulders. You scratch your nails lightly down his pecs and he takes your lower lip between his teeth, drawing a gasp from you. He bites down just a little bit too hard and you suddenly taste your own blood. The piercing pitch your voice hits when you cry out in pain makes him let go, startled backwards.

“Shit. Shit!” Astarion swears. His guards are still down. He’s surprised himself and you can feel the spikes of a rising panic. You hear Scratch barking and pawing at the tent flap and you reassure the dog in his language.

“Calm, beloved,” you tell Astarion, raising a hand to your bloody mouth. You close your eyes and hum a droning tone. The punctures close up under your fingers. The dull ache disappears.

When you look at him again, he’s still wide-eyed and he’s taking shallow breaths. He tentatively reaches out a hand to cup your cheek and you put your hand over his. You let the love in your heart swell and spill over as you press your face into his palm.

He blinks rapidly, holding himself rigid and still. You take measured, deep breaths, nuzzling into his hand. You can’t see the memories that are surfacing in him but you can feel how his nerves are steeling in the anticipation of pain.

“Beloved. Astarion.” Your voice still carries the resonance of your healing power. “My cherished one.” He seems to come alive to the here and now, meeting your eyes.

“I’m s-sorry,” he says roughly. Some of the warmth has retreated from his body.

“I’m ok. We’re ok. Are you intact, my love?”

He looks a little tired and waves of turbulent, mixed emotions under the surface of his gaze make your stomach flip flop. “You - it never wavers.”

“What?” You ask him softly, brow creased in concern.

“Your devotion.” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t do anything right under Cazador and it gave him daily excuses to take it out of my hide. You keep reaching out, and trying to make things right.”

You turn your head and press a kiss in the hollow of the center of his palm.

“I do love you, you know.” He says with a slight tremor in his voice. “It scares the shit out of me.”

You stroke his forearm and lean into his hand on your cheek. “My brave, adventurous Star.”

Air escapes his lungs in a great whoosh. “Did I really hurt you?” He asks.

You smile. “Briefly. I’m all better now.”

Astarion smiles in return and his relief crashes over you like a tidal wave as your lips meet again. Not just relief at the forgiveness in this moment but relief from centuries of overwhelming pressure.

When his hands begin to trace the contours of your body they are warm, his touch sure. He runs his palms over your skin with smooth, flowing strokes, gripping and kneading where your flesh gives him purchase. He pulls at you and you mold yourself against him as best you can while you’re both sat down. The pace he sets is slow but the way he licks at the inside of your mouth, the way your head falls back as you open wide for his tongue, the pressure of his fingers on the back of your neck drawing you closer still hold an edge of ferocious need.

When he breaks away from you to let you catch your breath, you bury your face in the crook of his neck. One of your hands seeks his and your fingers twine together, separate. Now pressing palm to palm. Now clasped. He’s still got some lingering swirls of trepidation hovering about him, some shock, and some emotions dragged up from a darker time. But he’s happy, too.

You wonder at how dear Astarion’s face has become to you as he moves in for a kiss, and you feel a magnetic pull between the deepest parts of your bodies. Whatever restraint you had falls away under his insistent mouth and questing hands. He grows bolder the more he can sense you yielding to him. He is so very pleased with himself every time he kisses you to the point of breathlessness. When you next come up for air and try to get your bearings again, he eases an arm across your upper back.

“Lie back, love.” He urges.

Astarion supports your shoulders as you sink back onto the pillows and he settles in next to you. You take his free hand and brush feather-light kisses against his fingertips, one by one. He’s tracking your face, looking at you through lowered lashes. You place his hand over your heart and let go of the layers of protections you maintain. For this stolen moment of time together, you let go of your vigilance against the soul-snatchers you face, conflicts between the heavens and the hells with your whole band of travelers in the middle, the battles for collective survival. You open your heart to experience the breadth of love that exists beyond your body and Astarion is pulled along with you as he presses his hand into your heartbeat.

You are pollen riding the wind, swallowed up by velvet petals and leaving plants swollen with fruit. You are a salmon tasting traces of your home waters at the mouth of a river, gasping in the current, plunging forward toward your ultimate release. You are the streams fed full of snowmelt rising and overflowing their banks. You are lightning kissing sand. The sensuality of the universe enfolds you both. It lights you up.

You feel Astarion’s fingers flex against your chest. When your lips meet again, every lover in your lineage sighs with pleasure. It echoes in both your bodies, cell by cell. Your innate magic not only connects you to Astarion, but to every being who has joined like this across time. It’s his turn to gasp, out of breath and just this side of overstimulated. He stares into your eyes and it feels like his bruised and battered soul brushes up against yours. You smile at him. He smiles back, a bit incredulous.

He moves in slowly to share a kiss. He drinks in the energy you’ve raised together, moaning softly into your lips and around your tongue, growing even warmer under your hands. It feels like when he drains your blood but it’s as if you have oceans to give him, drawing from this collective well. He caresses the front of your body, sweeping his hand from sternum to collarbone. You arch up into his touch as he massages your chest, rolling your spine like the crest of a wave. He rolls right with you, lavishing smooth, flowing strokes over your tits, spanning your ribcage, and exploring the topography of your hips.

You splay one hand across his shoulder blades. His legs tangle with yours, your thighs slippery with sweat and desire. He abandons your lips to indulge his fascination with your neck. You sigh and cry out to him with birdsong in your voice. Astarion is so greedy for you. His hands are everywhere, petting, rubbing, squeezing, groping. Every part of you is alive to his touch.

“Beloved… please,” you catch yourself whimpering. The eddies of pleasure are gathering and building into a tempest.

“‘Please,’ what?” He pants against your skin. Your throat is going to be very colorful later, you can tell.

“I - OHhhhhh” is all you can manage to say as he tweaks your nipple. He rolls it between his finger and thumb, brushes it with his fingertips, palms it as he grabs a handful of your chest.

“OH!” You yelp. Astarion chuckles darkly, low in his throat. He languidly licks the column of your neck and holds you close while you writhe within the restraints of his arms. His hunger for you only grows the more you give yourself up him.

“Something in your blood is calling out to me,” he drawls. “You need only tell me what it is you’re craving, darling.”

You feel a rushing inward, the way starstuff surrenders to the join the core of a new sun being born.

“Oh-Open me!” You implore. “Join with me. Mmm, let me feel you.”

The look he gives you manages to be both tender and menacing at the same time. A snarl escapes him.

He relaxes his grip so that you can lie flat. One knee drops to the quilt and you throw the other leg over Astarion’s hip. He rubs the inside of your thigh, sliding his hand toward the source of your heat then away again. Your mouth drops open and you start to rock your pelvis toward his fingers. You look at him, his silver curls a darker gray where they’re stuck to his skin with perspiration. He’s intently watching the movement of your hips. You gently trace the taper of one ear with your index finger. His hand clamps around the meat at the top of your inner thigh, pulling you to press his whole body against your side. He lunges forward to suck your earlobe into his mouth, growling softly. He sounds so much louder, echoing in your head like thunder.

“Aahhh!” You exclaim, chest heaving. You’re able to raise one hip enough to plant the ball of your foot on the ground on the other side of his body. You use the leverage to grind your ass against his erection. He grunts, fingertips digging into the flesh near the apex of your thighs.

“ohhHHH beloved - PLEASE!” You’re begging but your voice is powerful. Resonant. Every wild shape you borrow roars their own demanding through you.

Astarion takes a shaky breath inward. “gods,” he mutters, taking the edge of your ear between his teeth and sliding the tip of his middle finger between your drooling pussy lips, gliding between them to circle your clit. There’s no friction but his motions are measured and deliberate. You spread your knees wider and match his movements with your pelvis. You stretch and bow your spine as he plucks his fingers across your clit.

“Delicious,” he sighs.

Astarion becomes enamored with the variety of noises you make as he changes the stimulation between your thighs. He moves his hips against the plush of your ass while he spreads your honey lips apart and shows off his dexterity. He uses his fingertips for a light touch, the flats to rub into swollen flesh. His whole hand massages you, slick with your juices, and you moan in rhythm with his strokes.

The pressure of his fingertips against your entrance makes you take a deep breath in. “Mmmmmmmm, yes. More.” He groans softly, making slow circles. He pushes, you pull, drawing his fingers deeper as your muscles relax. Your color is high in your cheeks as you toss your head to one side and bite your own hand. He inhales sharply and his hips snap once against yours. Even though you can feel the demanding of his desire through all your senses, Astarion is incredibly sensitive with his touch, waiting until he can feel you begin to thrust against his hand to work deeper inside you.

He reads you like you’ve made love together a thousand times. Every ripple of pleasure you feel, he amplifies. You contract around his fingers and he flexes just so. You moan and he answers you. Your posture grows tense and he twists his fingers as he languidly strokes inside you, watching your face. You’re riding his hand in earnest now, turning your head to meet his eyes. Astarion’s naked lust catches your breath in your chest. The handful of moments you’ve seen him so vulnerable are like precious jewels to be treasured and held up to the light.

“You’re intoxicating, sweetheart,” he says in a throaty voice. “More. Please.”

Your conscious thought is starting to get fuzzy around the edges. Every place his skin contacts yours is throbbing with heat. Behind his single-minded pursuit of rising sensation, you feel his yearning ache for relief. Yes, Astarion adores you in your pleasure. But something within 200 years of muscle memory will not allow him his release until you find your own fulfillment. All you have to do is surrender. You do so joyfully, with abandon, driving yourself onto his pumping fingers while one of your hands finds a hold in his hair.

“mm, mm, mm, mm mm mm mmf, mmmph mmmm ohhhHHHHH oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!” you moan as you feel the gathering ferocity of your orgasm.

“Let go,” he rasps. “Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The first pulse throws your head back. Your hips find an angle just right for Astarion to hit every sensitive spot within you with each thrust and you love it, you love him. You love him. The force of your own feeling is like standing under a waterfall as you pulse and pulse again crying “oh beloved!”

Astarion curls his arm around your shoulders so he can angle your face toward him. He watches you for a moment before leaning in for a kiss, devouring your sweet sounds as you shake and fall apart. It feels like the energy is too big for your skin, bursting out of you and rocking your body in the process. Astarion breaks the kiss and whispers “more. don’t stop. more.” as he crooks his fingers inside you and you gush your waters over his hand while you struggle to take a breath.

The sounds that come out of you are guttural and ungraceful. The only thing registering in your awareness besides the throes of your own ecstasy is the feel of Astarion’s fingers inside you and pressure of his erection against your ass. He moves his hips in time with yours. The whooshing drumbeat of your heart is loud in your ears as you are finally able to steady your breath and just rock with him for a bit while the aftershocks run through you.

When you lay still, panting, you and Astarion are entwined. Legs, arms, cum-slicked fingers. He rubs the top of your foot with his own, painstakingly presses a line of kisses from just under your ear to the tip of your shoulder. His hunger creeps back into the edges of your perception.

You shiver a little.

“Want you,” you rouse yourself enough to say. “Tired. But, d’you --“ He captures your lips with a breathy groan and the kiss feeds you a taste of the burning ache consuming him.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Astarion manages to say, punctuated by kisses. “More.”

“Scootch.” You tell him.

You resettle yourselves so you are face-to-face. You’re a little askew on your pillow so you move a bit underneath the stretch of his body so you have better support under your neck and shoulders. Astarion grabs another pillow and puts it under your bum to angle your pelvis nicely.

As he lowers himself on top of you, you notice his elbows trembling just slightly under his own weight. You look at his face and his curls are shimmying a little bit as he tries to hide a shiver from you. He is pushing a lot of emotion behind the need for release and his nervous system is approaching overload.

You hum a little without any real power behind it and just the sound of your voice causes the shiver to die down. Astarion comes down onto his elbows and rests his forehead against yours. The volume of his thoughts gets louder at the contact. You can’t make out words through your connection, but the wash of sensation you receive is almost like being pulled apart. You initiate a meditative breath and run your healer’s hands up his chest with enough pressure to ease some of the tension he is holding. He’s not breathing in this moment.

You rub the back of his neck and press kisses against his jawline.

He is trying his best to put something to voice right now and you can feel the individual emotions more clearly as he sorts through them himself. Fear and desire are dueling within his breast, battling alongside the insistence of hunger borne of long starvation, rage at the injustice of having been denied, and a loneliness that seems to be integrated into the very core of him.

His face crumples a bit. “What if it’s not enough?” Astarion asks.

“If what is not enough?” You ask him back.

“Love.”

You look in his eyes and there is almost a preemptive despair. Now that you are within his grasp, now that his master is dead, now that the barriers between you are down, what if love is not enough to slake this need that has hollowed him down to the bone? What if it’s not enough to win against the Absolute?

You take a deep breath and smile gently. “We can only find out by going forward and loving each other anyway.”

Astarion closes his eyes and inhales, mimicking your calming strategies. When he opens them again, he focuses briefly on your gaze before going in for a kiss.

It is expressive in a way that he rarely allows himself to be in words. This isn’t his practiced passion, it’s a crashing of teeth and tongues, senses tumbling into the abyss where his heart should beat and taking you along for the ride. His fingers drag at your cheeks as the numbing darkness of undeath within him threatens to swallow your light. But there is some echo of love in there as well, despite it all. Of rest, of unburdening, of tender silence. At least enough to let you both exist as yourselves.

When he pulls away to look at you, your mouths are bloody.

You lick your lips and where your tongue touches, golden lines of healing light follow. “Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

Astarion’s eyes go wide before they fill with need. “Tav, please… more!”

Almost to yourself, you mutter, “yesyesyesyesyesyesyes,” while you drape your arms about his shoulders and bring your knees up to the level of his hips. He dips his head down to you for a kiss and his hips switch against yours aimlessly, just sliding sensitive flesh over sensitive flesh. He varies his movements depending on what sounds he wants to get out of you and you are more than happy to give voice to your pleasure.

When a long, delicious stroke makes you buck up against him, Astarion murmurs low in your ear, “Guide me, sweetheart.”

You bite your swollen lip and reach down to position the head of his cock at your entrance. The soft “ah!” he gasps at your touch sends another surge of arousal through you. There is some shifting to make sure your connection is angled comfortably before he eases his pelvis forward and, inch by inch, buries himself in the heat of your body.

Astarion has pushed himself back up onto his hands and uses his center of gravity to drive his thrust home, bottoming out. You’re gasping and panting as you open for him, taking your hands and physically spreading your pussy apart for him so you can get closer. You feel him sink even the tiniest bit deeper and it’s worth it for the way the sensations are magnified. He grunts and you see his neck muscles tense as his whole body involuntarily rocks into yours.

You reach up and bring his face down to you for a kiss.

It takes Astarion a while to adjust to his new sensitivity, so you move at your leisure. You let go of the chorus and cacophony of creation that is the backdrop to your every day reality. Instead you find your focus being drawn to the little ways of encouraging your mutual pleasure. You feel his attention going to your breath so you press your chest to his chest and sigh. He groans, snaking his arms around you to grab your ass. You feel your joints get looser with desire as your knees fall open more and your inner muscles shift around erection. He pulls out just an inch only to lunge forward, bringing one knee up under your thigh and using his hold on you to grind your pelvis into his.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life.

Astarion caresses you everywhere he can reach and you can feel him savoring the way your nerve endings light up under his touch. He kisses you deeply as you moan for him and then props himself up on his hands.

His first big thrust pushes the breath out of you. “Ha-ah!” escapes your open mouth. You can’t help tossing your head back into the pillows.

His cock flexes inside you and, reflexively, you grip him back. Your eyes roll up as the delicious drag of his pumping starts to drive you wild.

“Gods, Tav… you.. unh,” is about all that Astarion can manage to utter. You can feel the knot of tension building in his guts, the energy and gravity of it almost crackling. Even then, you can feel his determination to make you come again.

You feel a tidal wave of love swelling within you. The undeniable truth of it causes Astarion’s breath to catch and the rhythm of his strokes grows more urgent. It is, perhaps, the first time he really recognizes a similar feeling within himself and knows himself capable of the kind of love he has craved for centuries.

You cry out together. He brings his forehead down to meet yours as you pulse around him and spill over once more in your release. Your neck goes loose and you toss your head from side to side, moaning his name. He grunts as he works you through your orgasm, his throbbing hardness moving in and out of your flesh driving you to greater heights. You shudder under him as you spill over again and again and again.

“Tav… I can’t…” Astarion says through gritted teeth. His face is twisted with need.

You’re breathless at this point, but you know what to tell him. “Drink, beloved,” you gasp.

His eyes widen. He rears back a little and then strikes at your neck. You’re deep enough in your pleasure that the impact feels good. As your life’s blood flows into him, he gulps it down greedily and it feels like he grows even more engorged inside of you. With your thrumming heartbeat against his tongue and the taste of your essence in his mouth, you come together.

You reach down and grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Astarion’s back arches and you can hear the wet slap of your bodies as he pounds into you, teeth still clamped in the meat of your neck. He finally has to let go of his bite as he spurts the last throes of his orgasm deep in your body. “hah! hah! hah-ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” punctuates his thrusts.

He collapses on top of you, lying heart-to-heart and still open to you as you both bask in the afterglow.

You caress and pet each other, exhausted but still savoring this time of tenderness. At some point Astarion’s head plunks down on the pillow next to you. He cracks one crimson eye open to look at you. Your blood and his drool are dripping from his mouth onto your pillow. You see his throat work as he gulps, his open eye rolling back to show the white. His pink tongue licks every trace of you off his lips and fangs. Obscene.

He brings his hand up to your face, sweeping his thumb over your lips before kissing you again. There’s a subtle, soft sense of harmony between the two of you as you rest together, still entangled.

***

It’s very late in the afternoon before you feel like your legs are up to bearing your weight again. You pull on a shirt to wobble about camp and gather some supplies to wash with.

You and Astarion take turns wiping the sweat and various fluids off of each other’s bodies.

You’re rubbing the damp wash cloth across his upper back when he begins to talk.

“I’ve never bitten anyone accidentally,” he admitted. “Whenever I was close to living beings, every cell in my body would be screaming at me to feed and I’d simply snap at the air, or I’d go weak when I was seducing a mark and tried to steal a taste. So many times I wanted to tear into the person my body was fucking.”

Your mouth presses into a thin line but you say nothing at first. Instead you lean against him and put your arm around him. He blinks rapidly as the memories pass through him.

“Sweetheart, I still don’t fully understand how one goes about loving,” Astarion says. “But being able to be with you without the inner conflict goes a long way.”

You tuck his damp curls behind one ear. “Do you think we’ll get there, beloved?”

“This is the most hopeful I’ve felt, maybe ever, darling. I kind of hate it but here we are.”

You chuckle a little bit. “I can’t say I blame you in the slightest, but even so, I’m just so proud of you.”

He wrinkles his nose a bit before smirking at you. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He picks up the wash cloth and rinses it in the basin, wringing it out before he starts to rub down your back in turn. You relax and let your mind go blank at the touch of your lover.

Until…

“Astarion. I’ve got an idea.”

***

You feel tired and a little clumsy as you and Astarion make your way back to the cemetery. He’s half holding you up. You lean your heads together and chatter quietly to each other about nonsense. The setting sun casts the stone streets in shades of blazing orange and dusky purple. You lean on him, savoring the strength he’s forged over your time together. You watch him take everything in, just being with no agenda, and you fervently wish for more time like this. Please, you pray, let this man know peace.

You stand holding each other in silence when you reach his graveside. He nuzzles your hairline.

“Do what you came here to do, darling.” He murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You smile and press a kiss against his jaw, take his hand to steady yourself as you kneel next to the plot. Astarion sits next to you and leans up against your side.

You rake your fingers through the soil to break it up. Once the earth atop the grave is soft and crumbly, you reach into a pouch on your belt and bring forth a handful of seeds. You scatter them across the surface and then you and Astarion both press them into the ground. You conjure a brief rainfall over the plot, waiting for the moisture to soak in before calling on more primal magic.

Astarion twines his fingers with yours. The connection hasn’t really faded. Perhaps you’ll always be able to feel each other. You clear your throat, take a deep breath, and sing one note; a pure tone redolent with life energy.

The seeds vibrate with your voice. You both feel each tiny, individual life awaken and begin to unfurl. Little rootlets spread into a net and extend down through the earth, reaching for the heart of the planet. Baby cotyledon leaves appear, then the true leaves, the plants’ growth fueled by your energies and nature asserting its influence in the midst of the city. Central stalks rise, stretching toward the last of the light. Deep purple blooms appear amidst the whorls of lance-shaped leaves.

When you stop singing, a stand of basalm plants grows atop the grave. You gather three plants to make a healing potion that Astarion can carry into the final battle. He tosses the Szarr family ring into the thicket.

You’re able to get to your feet without his help. Being a vessel for the primal forces restores your energy somewhat. When you’re both standing again, he gives you a lingering kiss. Your hands carry the scent of the healing herbs as you run your fingers through his hair.

As you stroll arm in arm back to your camp, you lean on Astarion again, more for comfort than support this time. You walk in companionable silence as the twilight deepens.

***

He wraps himself around you when you both go to your rest. When visions of bloody corridors and long-starved, neglected undead interrupt your trance, he comes awake too. You reach for his face, eyes wide in the low light. Your hands touch his hair, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re here with me,” you whisper urgently, “you never have to go back there again. never again!”

“shhhhhhh, darling. i’m here with you. i’m not going anywhere.” He whispers back.

You clutch at his shoulders, nerves electrified. “you got out. you got out. you’re here with me. you got out.”

“sweetheart… we’re both intact. i’m here with you.” Astarion gives you gentle kisses on your flushed face, holds you firmly as you shiver. “i’m here with you. breathe.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You release your hold on his shirt and meet his gaze. “200 years. and you got out,” you say with awe. “you’re here with me.”

He kisses your lips. “i found you. and i’m here. with you. because of you.” He whispers, kissing your tears away.

[yuurei20]

Greetings! How true is that Yana is not involved in the writing of all events? Or is it only for the most recent one, Playful land? I'm a little confused.

Hello hello! Yana shares via Twitter what parts of what cards/events/stories/etc she was involved in every time something new is released, so I went through tweets from January of 2020 to November of 2023 to compare and contrast how she has described her role throughout the years, and compiled them here!

⚠️JP-server Only Visuals Spoiled Under the Cut⚠️

Vocabulary Review

・シナリオ: The English word “scenario,” this is an industry term that means “a written outline of a film, novel, or stage work giving details of the plot and individual scenes. It describes the sequence of scene changes, dialogue, and actions.” If Yana says she was in charge of the scenario for something, it is probably ok to assume that it was her project.

・原画(genga): The original artwork/initial visual concept upon which the final work was based

Ex: In this tweet Yana says she was in charge of the scenario, costume design and original card artwork for Fairy Gala.

・担当(tantou): The person in charge of something

・ディレクション: The English word “direction.”

Ex: In this tweet Yana says that she was in charge of direction for Malleus’ Birthday Jacket card.

・D-6th: This is Yana’s personal studio, which existed long before Twst and is also in charge of producing her manga (there seems to be a lot of overlap between the team that creates Black Butler and the Twst team, which she will sometimes reference in tweets). This seems to mean that there were multiple people involved in the creation process. It is unclear if she includes herself amongst the "D-6th" team, as sometimes she will specify that something was by her, something was by D-6th, or something was by both her and D-6th.

・弊社(heisha): a polite way of saying “my company,” this references Yana’s studio D-6th. 

Ex: In this tweet Yana says that while she did the scenario herself, the backgrounds and prop designs were by her studio.

The Main Story

Starting with the release of part 1 of Book 3 on JP server, Yana explains that she did the scenario, original artwork for the SSR cards, directed the vignettes and was in charge of character design.

For Book 7 she says she did the scenario and original character art/character designs, while some prop designs and background visuals were done by her studio.

Card Art

For Ortho’s dorm uniform design Yana explains that both she and her studio did the original art from start to finish (she did the original concept and story for the vignette), while she alone was in charge of the before/after groovy art from start to finish for Idia’s dorm uniform card.

She did the art for Leona and Riddle’s tsumsted cards (and direction for the other cards in the series), Sebek’s dorm uniform art from start to finish and and did art direction for the cards in the 2022 New Year’s set, while costume design was done by her studio.

Rook’s Clubwear, Ortho’s Cerberus Gear, Lilia’s General card, Rollo’s card and Grim’s D100 card are all credited to both Yana and her studio.

(We got a rare comment with the release of Ortho’s Cerberus Gear where she said, “We have an artist working with us who spent almost 20 years doing backgrounds for a certain, extremely famous robot anime. She oversees a lot of the background art designing. The background for Ortho’s Cerberus Gear card, the aircraft catapult, the facility seen in the groovy art—that is all her work. It really captures the moment of take off! Professional background artists are truly amazing, capable of designing everything from S.T.Y.X.’s futuristic aircraft catapult to homages of famous watercolor masterpieces." That is one of the artists that Yana is referring to when a design is attributed to D-6th.)

Birthdays

Yana was credited with direction for the Birthday Boy series, while Ortho’s design and direction was credited to her studio.

Yana credited her studio with the Birthday Jacket designs and scenario creation, saying that she was in charge of direction for the series (with Ortho’s gear design, direction and room design all credited to her studio).

For the Broom/Bloom series Yana says that she participated in concept/costume design and was in charge of direction (with D-6th credited with the art direction and gear design for Ortho).

The art for the platinum series (including the backgrounds) is credited to the staff of D-6th, with Yana in charge of direction.

Events

Yana explains she did all the original art for all of the cards, the scenarios and direction for Beanfest, Fairy Gala and Phantom Bride (she also created the scenarios for all the vignettes).

She also created the story and did all of the card art and direction for Terror is Trending and Spectral Soiree.

For Port Fest she specified that she did the original art for Jack’s SSR and did direction for the remaining cards, crediting her studio with costume/background designs.

Yana created the scenario, character design, SSR card art (from start to finish) and did art direction for the R and SR cards of Glorious Masquerade, crediting herself and her studio with the costume/mask designs, background designs, and opening and ending screens.

She says she participated in card art direction for the R and SR cards in the Lost in the Book with Stitch event, crediting the costume designs, scenario creation, background visuals, SSR Lilia, SSR Floyd, original card art and creation to her studio.

Stage in Playfulland character design, costume design, scenario creation, card art direction, background visuals and Opening/Ending art are also all credited to her studio.

(To answer the initial question: the only difference seems to be that Playfulland is credited entirely to her studio without Yana specifying how she was involved, whereas she took credit for the scenario writing in Glorious Masquerade, Spectral Soiree and Terror is Trending. While not the first time this has happened in the game (Yana also did not specify her role in the Tamashina Mina event, attributing costume design, background visuals, the Opening/Ending, the setting/card art direction and character design only to D-6th), this was the first time it’s happened with a Halloween event.)

Novel

Yana says she was in charge of the concept, the in-novel art, cover and fold-out art in the novels, while Hioki Jun (a Twst vignette/event scenario writer) created the novel scenarios. 

Comic

The artist and designer behind the 1st and 3rd comic arcs are both from Yana’s studio D-6th, doing background and card art for Twst (and work on Black Butler).

Yana says that her role is overall collaboration, character design and character creation (she says that in addition to creating the basis for Trey’s parents she also designed Riddle’s mother, including her face, but they ultimately left her in silhouette).

It is difficult to tell what Yana means by “overall collaboration," but she has shared a tweet about drawing the characters out herself for the actual artists to base their work on. (This might not apply to the artist of the Savanaclaw arc, who is not a member of D-6th)

[hooked-on-elvis]

"He never used his star power — never. Maybe he should have."

Actress Millie Perkins on working with Elvis Presley

Millie Perkins (87 years old) was born in May 12, 1936 in Passaic, New Jersey. Perkins is now retired from working in film and television besides a modelling career as well. After playing the title role in the 1959 movie "THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK", "WILD IN THE COUNTRY" (1961) was Millie Perkins's second movie. She was just about Elvis' own age when they worked together. The filming for Wild In The Country took place between November 1960 and January 1961. Millie was a 24-year-old actress and Elvis turned 26 by the time the movie principal photography was finished in January 1961. In a 1990 interview she talked a bit about her impressions on Elvis Presley while working with him in the early 60s:

"Elvis turned out to be someone I liked very much. I felt there was a man with a heart and soul there who truly cared about people. Certainly he treated me as if he cared about me; there was a mutual respect between us. But his life was on a level that my life was not on. I was married to Dean Stockwell at the time, and he was — I felt like he was drifting. The guys were on the set every day, you know, wrestling on the floor. I didn’t even know what girls he was dating at the time, because it didn’t interest me, his personal life seemed so silly. And yet I knew he was a victim of it. I felt like Philip Dunne [Wild In The Country's director] fawned all over Elvis. Elvis’ attitude was — I saw Elvis looking around that set and summing up people faster than anyone else could have, and I felt that after a short period of time he was disappointed in Philip Dunne, but he was too polite and well behaved to say anything. He tried very hard to make this film better than his other movies, and you saw him trying and asking questions. And I just believe the sad thing is that [the director] did not have the ability to help Elvis through it. I remember doing this one scene; we were sitting in the truck, and we were supposed to be driving home from a dance or going to a dance, and in the script he was supposed to break into song, turn on the radio and start singing. And to me it was like, "Yuck," I was very young, and I thought, "My sisters are going to tease me, this is so embarrassing and tasteless." You see, I was a snob, too. But — and this was the nicest thing — while we were rehearsing, finally the director walked away, and Elvis looks at me and says, "God, this is so embarrassing. Nobody would ever do this in real life. Why are they making me do this?" So there we were, both of us having to do something and we just wanted to vomit. He never used his star power — never. Maybe he should have. Maybe he did it on some other level, but he sure didn’t do it on the set. I felt like he was younger than me, this very humble person who would make statements about what he believed in. And I would think, "He’s saying that to show me he’s a fine human being." All I know is that there was a person there with a refined heart and soul, and I say refined on any level you want to look at it. When you meet someone like that, you know they’re there, even if they’re sitting there eating fifteen lollipops — that’s beside the point. That’s just what they’re doing at that time, but that’s not the essence of the person. The essence of Elvis was as fine a person as I’ve ever met; he treated me as well as anyone has ever treated me in this business."

— Millie Perkins (Betty Lee Parsons in Wild In The Country) about working with Elvis Presley. This 1990's interview excerpt was taken from the book in which it was quoted, "Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley" by Peter Guralnick (1998).

Millie Perkins as Betty Lee Parsons and Elvis Presley as Glenn Tyler in Wild In The Country (1961)

Millie Perkins as Anne Frank in George Stevens' "The Diary of Anne Frank" (1959).

[yoonia]

Writing Update: 06.05.2024

It's time for my regular update report drop to let you know that I'm still alive! Below are the fics that I've been working on and will be releasing (hopefully this month):

Bedroom Hymns (myg x reader) ⏤ this month's target/estimated word count: chapter(s) 18, 19, 20; 16k words total ⏤ progress written: 6,4k words of the total word count goal (first draft writing) I keep jumping between scenes, so even if I'm close to finishing chapter 18 at the moment, I'm not sure if I'll be posting it soon since I've been moving to other scenes/chapters between writing this part. These next few chapters are going to be so much fun to read. I promise :)

Ever a Never After (jjk x reader; ksj x reader)  ⏤ this week's target/estimated word count: act 1; 12k words ⏤ progress written: 6,2k words (final draft writing) I switched my writing process with this one by finalising a scene before moving onto the next since I wanted to have an opening scene/prologue that is fun for everyone to read. I'm also using a couple of beta readers to help me work on this one which is why the process takes a bit longer than usual

Hot Mess (kth x reader) ⏤ estimated word count: 6-7k words ⏤ progress written: 2,5k words (first-second draft writing) Why did the number decrease, you ask? Because I've been re-writing it from the start lol. I actually finished this fic a while ago after sharing the progress back in January, but I didn't like the story flow and how everything went. So I scrapped everything and started over when I opened the draft again a couple of days ago. I'm pretty sure I can finish this one nicely this time

I'm going to continue working on these fics with the hope of dropping something new this week. See you then.

note | If you’re interested in being added into my permanent taglist, please enter your url on this link or if you want to be tagged for EANA, drop your url here. If you only want to be added on a specific update, please add your url and the fic you’re looking for in the replies below, and remember to make sure that your url can be easily found/tagged. You can also subscribe to my Patreon to gain access to my writing journal and watch my daily writing process.

xoxo, Dia

[fxtalitygod]

VI. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, themes/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of child murder/adult murder, implied cannibalism, breastfeeding, pet names (Y/n called Little Flower 4-5x), Implications of child neglect, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies, slight misogynistic themes (if you squint).

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I apologize for being so late with this post... I was initially going to post this around Thanksgiving (practically on Thanksgiving day), but I decided to do a little revising. I finished this chapter on my flight though I was unhappy with the product, so I tweaked it a little. There were a few other factors, such as spending time with family, and I did happen to get sick while on my vacation; however, I am better and was finally able to finish this chapter. Chapter VII is already in the works and will be released sometime in early January, hopefully, sooner. I know I've been saying this for a while, but I'm still trying to figure out a posting schedule, but in the meantime, I will be posting when I can. Thank you all for being patient with me. It's greatly appreciated. This a friendly reminder that my asks are open. If you want to ask me any questions about this story/other works or to talk about hcs, suggestions, or to be added to the taglist for any of my series, have at it! Thank you for sticking around, and enjoy Part 6 of Survival!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt.III • Pt.IV • Pt.V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII •

You knew in your years of living that motherhood would never be easy, but taking care of the future heirs of a four-armed man practically considered a god was another story. You were restless, your stress and anxiety slowly creeping up on you. The worst part was that you had to keep those vulnerabilities concealed. Not once were you allowed to let a weakness slip, or else you and your children could end up being the next set of cold bodies on the record.

Today was especially no exception to those rules.

You sat in the garden with your twins, letting their beautiful giggles fill your ears. The wives that had begun to admire you gathered around the scene, cooing at how your baby boy and girl interacted with each other. This was something you had seen often with your babies. The two were inseparable as they were constantly interacting with each other, grabbing and laughing with each other, and overall enjoying their childhood innocence. The sight was almost able to make you forget the upcoming event today.

Inspection day.

It was a typical tradition among the mothers who lived in the temple. Sukuna would request all mothers and children to meet at the temple's main hall to inspect his sons and daughters. It was a way of seeing the progress of his kinder to pick out the most suitable heir among them.

Unfortunately, there were many situations where the father had decided it best for his weaker spawn to be taken out of the competition. It did not matter how old they were— if he saw that they were falling slightly behind the other children, he would not hesitate to end the child’s “miserable life,” as he deemed it.

You were no exception to this rule. No one was. The life of your twins could be ended with a simple wave of Ryomen Sukuna's hand, and you could not be more horrified by that fact. You tried to pride yourself in how you prepared your children for such days, but you could not help but worry. Your twins were strong and healthy, which was the only requirement for infants on inspection day, but as they mature, they must present more than general health. Hardly any of the children made it to their teenage years. None made it to adulthood.

"Is this not your twin's first inspection?"

The question pulled you out of your thoughts as you turned to look at one of the wives, an acquaintance of yours. It had been about a few months since you had given birth to your little miracles, and you could not be more content with the time you've been able to spend with them; however, it would be untruthful if you kept telling yourself that it wasn't taking a toll on you. You could admit that you had become more paranoid, causing harm to you both physically and mentally. There were days that you would hardly leave the nursery, trying to avoid others from seeing you in a disheveled state. Although, it was a rare occasion, meaning no one had any suspicions regarding your behavior.

"Indeed, but I am confident in my parenting," you responded in confidence.

You saw some eyes shine in admiration as you held your head high and proud, proving your current status among the other wives. Over the few months, you managed to convince the other wives that you were untouchable; however, that did not mean you didn’t receive loathing stares and comments. Most of those women had decided it best to keep a distance, waiting for you to slip up to take the higher ground, but it was proving difficult to be patient at that time.

You could feel the stares of the ones who were still waiting. You could already picture the snickers and smirks behind you, knowing that today could be one of your many possible slips. All that could be done was to pray; pray that everything would go according to plan.

Before you allowed your paranoia and anxiety to seep in more than you already had, you looked up to see servants pouring out into the garden, helping some mothers gather their children. One had attempted to approach you, but your attendant quickly hopped in, telling them she could aid you. The two of you gathered what little items you had brought and settled your children in your arms.

It did not take long for everybody in the garden to make their way to the main hall, where Sukuna awaited his next of kin. The crowd was suffocating, some women and even children being too close for comfort. You eventually found yourself in a line in front of the doors to the main hall. Hushed voices filled the room as the women started to converse. The conversations ranged from ones of concern, cockiness, and caution. No matter the topic, you could tell that the tension was increasing.

What went from whispers turned into boisterous discussions. It stayed that way for a while until the inspection began. The second those doors went ajar, the room went silent instantly. You could see how the simple action brought everyone slight fear. The children who were old enough to think were undoubtfully terrified of the occasion, having either been told the dangers of inspection day to prepare them or they had experienced the ritual and what it meant for them if they were to fail.

"The examinations shall begin!"

With that announcement from one of the distant servants, the line started to move forward. There was nothing but silence as the line advanced into the room. From what you knew, silence meant one of two things, dread or reassurance, and from what you could tell, the quiet was proving to be more of a relief. Unfortunately, the quietness did not last long.

"NOOOO!" you heard a woman cry, followed by the piercing scream of a child.

That was only the first of many screams you would hear that day. As you advanced toward the main hall, the shrill screams crescendoed. Some came from a mom, but most came from the youth. Most of your companions stayed in the room, while others left in a broken state or muttering in disappointment toward their deceased kid. No matter the result, you could only feel disdain.

Before you knew it, you were the next to approach your husband. You could see Sukuna sitting on his throne as he looked at one of his sons. The boy could have been no older than two or maybe even three years of age, hardly old enough to understand what was going on, but you could tell that this boy would not have a happy ending. You had spoken to his mother before, and based on what you had heard, the boy was lacking behind the others in his age group.

You remember sitting in the garden with your twins one day, feeding them as you watched the slightly older kids play; however, there happened to be one boy in particular that had caught your eye. He had been chasing around one of his siblings before he collapsed, coughing up blood not too long after tumbling. You knew that the child was your competition, but out of the goodness of your heart, you approached the struggling boy, managing to keep your children in place to not disturb them.

You found no need to ask if the boy was alright—blood splayed out in the grass served as enough proof that he was not. You rubbed his back as he was stuck in a coughing fit, blood spewing onto the grass.

You looked around for the boy's mother, only to see that no one around was interested in assisting the kid.

The child sat there with you for a few minutes before you saw a slightly older woman making her way toward you, a look of worry etched upon her face. She immediately ran up and hugged her son before thanking you profusely for caring for him despite having responsibilities with your own children. Despite not needing your assistance anymore, she remained, telling you of his illness. From what you gathered, he had developed the problem not too long after the inspection the previous year, causing him to fall behind the other children his age in their physical health, meaning it would be harder for him to develop his cursed energy.

As you stood there, hearing the incoherent voices of the child talking to his father, you focused your attention on his awaiting mother. She played with her fingers, bit her bottom lip, and let her eyes tremble as her anxiety began to kick in. A little part of you wanted to go in and comfort her, but you knew you could not, so you chose the second-best option. In slight haste, you whispered in your attendant's ear, asking her a simple request. She was only gone for a second before making her way back over to your side.

On the far left side of the room, where the mother had been standing, you saw a female servant approach. She tapped on the mother's shoulder, whispering in her ear before escorting her out of the room. Sukuna, despite being preoccupied with his determination for the boy, had taken notice of her leave. His gaze followed her path to exit the room as she let out a few sniffles, trying to hide her despair, as she knew her son's fate the moment they had walked into the room.

The conversation between Sukuna and the boy continued. You observed the scene, patiently waiting as you nurtured your twins. The wait repulsed you. The more Sukuna dragged out the conversation, the more the boy's symptoms started to show. Fortunately enough, the torture came to an end when the boy coughed up blood on his father.

You watched as Sukuna looked down at himself, seeing the splotches of blood on his skin. The fear in the kid's eyes was evident as they widened in absolute terror at what he had done. Despite being very young, the child knew that his father wasn't much of a forgiving person. It did not take long for the tears to well up and spill from his eyes. You tried to remind yourself that the competition was being eliminated, but your morals wouldn't allow you to suppress the sympathy you felt.

What came next, you could hardly watch. The boy, despite his horror, plastered a smile on his face as he apologized to his father. Sukuna only sighed as he looked up to meet the boy's eyes. You could hear the whispers behind you as mothers conversed with each other. Some were of pity, some were of fear, and others of relief.

As awful as it sounds, you felt it would be best for the boy. His condition wasn’t getting any better. To wait another year, with his fate practically predetermined, would have been torture. There was no doubt in your mind that by the following year, he would no longer be standing within the temple. Right now, you could tell he was at peace with his fate, the saddening smile proving you so.

The next few seconds were quick. Sukuna uttered one last statement before putting the child out of his misery. It was silent— there were no screams or pleas for mercy. All you could see was blood spilling down from where the boy once stood and a slight clinking noise as something had clearly fallen.

It did not take long to hear the shuffles of servants rushing to clean up the mess to avoid any “complications” regarding attachments. Any belongings of a deceased child were discarded immediately as Sukuna was advised that it would be easier for a mother to move on and procreate once more when they were not reminded of their dead offspring. In a way, this method proved to work sufficiently, especially with the women willing to keep Sukuna pleased or the more vulnerable women. It kept them obedient. It kept them distracted.

Sukuna watched as the help slowly and efficiently cleaned up the mess, but the second he looked up and laid eyes on your form, it was clear that the man was too eager to wait any longer. You could see the smirk on his face grow and the gleam in his eye. The gesture should have given you relief, but it made you apprehensive.

"Come forward, Little Flower," Sukuna announced.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Sukuna beckoned to you. Despite your apprehension, you walked forward, keeping your head high to facade your uneasiness. As you approached your husband, you kicked an item, the clinking on the ground. You do not know what came over you at the moment, but some form of impulse caused you to slip the item into your shoe, hiding it underneath the sole of your foot.

In a matter of a few steps, you were standing before Sukuna. Unlike the other inspections performed, Sukuna was quick to stand, towering over your form. You could only stare into his eyes as he peered down at you, the grin on his face growing. Maybe it was due to the situation, but it was more unsettling than usual. Had he predetermined his decision? Was he going to take your children out of your care? The questions kept flooding your mind while keeping a straight face.

"You seem quite confident in yourself, Little Flower," Sukuna stated.

"I am as I believe I've shown enough skill in my ability to mother our infants," you responded, swallowing whatever anxieties you had.

The answer seemed to please Sukuna as he sat back down on his throne, grabbing your waist to stand between his legs. You knew he was teasing you at this point, trying to stir a reaction out of you, trying to rile you up. This was common for him to do with new moms. You did not know if it was for entertainment or a form of test, but it still made you uneasy either way.

"We shall see then, won't we?"

You watched as Sukuna went from looking into your eyes to looking at your twins. The babies were tucked snuggly in your arms, their heads turned into your chest to obtain warmth from your body. With one of his hands, Sukuna turned your son's head to achieve a better look, his teasing look turning into one of concentration. The two-faced man was gentle with his touches, something you had not known he was capable of, something you couldn't believe was in his nature.

He took his time, undoubtedly in no haste to proceed with the mandatory tradition. Just when you thought he had finished, anticipating him to pass your son back to you, he slithered one of his arms to take grasp of your daughter. You watched as the baby squirmed in his hold, attempting to shift into a comfortable position, letting out an occasional grunt as she did so.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs. Your chest started to develop a heave. Your hands began to grip the material of your kimono. You had never experienced fear as great as this.

"You never cease to amaze me, Y/n."

You almost sighed after hearing that glorious sentence, but you kept your poise as you bowed, ready to take your twins back into your arms. However, Sukuna never made it that easy for you. The four-armed man quickly pulled you onto his lap, handing your twins over as he plastered an all-too-familiar grin on his face. Before you could question his actions, Sukuna straightened his form, placing his back against his throne as he looked at the awaiting line of women and children.

"Listen well, women! This is where your standards should be. In a year of her time, Y/n has accomplished what the majority of you achieved in a decade here at the temple. She has even gone as far as surpassing you all. I suggest you all follow her example."

You didn't know how to feel about Sukuna's short speech. There was a chance that the man had placed a target on your back, but he could have also made you untouchable. His utterances of praise could be proved as both a curse and a blessing.

Once he had settled himself, you believed he would let you leave to inspect the next child— you were wrong. He held you in his lap and beckoned for the next mother to bring forth the child. He didn’t speak to you after that. He continued the rest of the inspection, caging you in a set of his arms.

To say you were horrified was an understatement.

What you had seen was gruesome and grotesque, but that isn’t what unsettled you. What truthfully left you distressed was your absence of physical and mental response. You were desensitized.

You watched as he slaughtered child by child. You felt his second mouth chew on the bones of his deceased kin. You heard the screams and cries of both women and children, some even calling to you to convince Sukuna to spare mercy. But no matter what, you felt absolutely nothing.

Had you really become that selfish?

You were always willing to get your hands dirty to keep yourself and your children alive, but you never imagined you’d have to shut down your humanity to achieve that; however, in a dog-eat-dog world, you would have to look out for number one.

So you sat there, watching body…

After body…

After body…

After body…

Stack up in the room without so much as a flinch. Not a word escaped your mouth, nor a yelp or gasp. You sat there motionless and silent as the chaos subdued into a conclusion. The dense silence was a dead sign that the event had ended.

You were shifted to sit between Sukuna’s legs, facing the mothers and children who had decided to wait in the room. You could see looks of great pride, looks of disappointment, and looks of grief. The sight alone could’ve made you cry, but you refused to let that happen.

There was no room for errors in your plan, such as letting your vulnerabilities show.

“What should I do with them?” Sukuna whispered in your ear discretely as he leaned down, almost making you jump.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to act oblivious to his question, although you knew fully what he meant.

“It’s relatively simple— should I spare their pitiful lives, or should I exterminate them? With what we created, there is no reason to keep them around; however, I leave that judgment entirely up to you.”

You could not help but widen your eyes. The power and jurisdiction Sukuna had given you were tempting and overwhelming. In a simple sentence, you could have the competition eliminated. Your mind was rushing with all the possibilities of your future if you went through with what Sukuna had offered. Knowing all the opportunities, you made your decision with ease.

"Spare them," you answered.

"What an interesting choice, Little Flower," Sukuna chuckled before sitting up straight, "Very well then."

Sukuna looked down at the forms in front of them, wearing a straight face as he examined each of their faces. With little to no expression on his face, Sukuna looked more fearsome. Nobody could tell what he was thinking or planning— any action that was to follow from his state of blankness would come unexpectedly.

"You should all be grateful to be standing here today. Unbeknownst to you, I just offered your companion a very tempting offer. However, she chose to spare your lives," Sukuna announced, "You should all be thankful."

You felt one of Sukuna's arms grab your waist, and you could feel his hand grasp your face as he pushed his cheek to yours. All eyes were now focused on you. Every movement was monitored and taken note of on both ends. If you were going to be truthful, you didn't know how to feel about the new-found attention— like you had mentioned earlier, Sukuna's praise was both a blessing and a curse.

You felt his Cheshire grin form as his face remained against yours. It was clear that he was pleased with what he had done. Whatever was brewing in his mind, you couldn't deduce, and quite frankly, you didn't want to. Even with your inquiries about the situation, you believed you would never follow up on them. Some questions were better unanswered.

"Ahem, Sukuna-sama, I believe it would be best to conclude this session," A person, whom you couldn't deduce whether they were a man or female, chimed.

You had seen this individual at the temple before, usually seeing him trail behind Sukuna. In many instances, you had assumed this person to be a personal servant to Sukuna, but if you were sincere, you thought they were more than that to the two-faced man. Possibly a close friend, sibling, or some sort of ally.

"I suppose you're right, Uraume," Sukuna sighed, straightening himself out again.

"This examination event is concluded. All of you may leave. Remember the words of caution I have so graciously given you. Dismissed!" The four-armed man announced, keeping his posture straight and intimidating.

With his confirmation, you stood, twins in your arms, making your way out of the room before you were yanked down into Sukuna's lap.

"Not you, Little Flower. I'm not finished with you yet."

At that instant, you didn't know what to think. Unlike the other moments you had been pulled aside, you did not feel anything. Your mind wasn't running with questions and fear— you were calm. If Sukuna had wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now. If he found your children useless, he would have put them down the moment you approached him.

The room was empty and quiet as the two of you sat there, watching the last child leave. The silence encased the room after that. You made no effort to make eye contact, and neither did Sukuna. It was not out of fluster or fear but rather the peace in that silence. You couldn't remember the last time you had been left in a room where your mind wasn't running rapidly or where there wasn't some sort of commotion outside a set of doors.

"Walk with me," Sukuna blurted, allowing you to move out of his lap, babies settled in your arms.

You watched as your husband stood, motioning you to follow him as he made his way toward the main hall doors. It was quiet for most of the walk as he led you to who knows where. There was a moment you wanted to ask him about where he was taking you, but there was something about his blank expression that made you second guess yourself, deciding to continue trailing behind him until he released you to your duties; however, Sukuna took notice in your lagging behind, slowing down his pace while hovering one of his hands at your lower back to keep you from falling behind any further.

"We're here," the man announced suddenly, pulling you out of your own consciousness.

You watched as Sukuna opened a pair of grand doors, revealing a nursery; however it wasn't the nursery you were accustomed to. The room was relatively small compared to the other where you and the other mothers would care for your children, but it was size enough to fit at least a few groups of people.

"What is this? Are you relocating some of us?" you asked as you looked around the room.

"No, only these two. I believe they should be separate from the other offspring and their mother. They will be just fine with a wet nurse in the evenings."

The string you were working so hard to maintain snapped in that instant. You felt as if something overtook you, a shadow looming over you. The thought of you being isolated from your babies left you paranoid; moreover, the idea of a wet nurse taking care of them left you livid. No longer did you care if you upset Sukuna. He went beyond your line of patience when he suggested the concept of leaving your children in another's care.

“No.”

You swore that you saw all four of his eyes widen the slightest, and you were convinced that you even saw him smile a little, but with all the adrenaline from your sudden irritation may have easily made you see things. For a subtle instant, you wished you could have taken that singular word back, but the regret quickly flushed away as you remained glaring at your husband. This was the first time you had truly stood up against Sukuna, the man who was more than capable of wiping out a village in a matter of minutes— seconds if he pleased.

"disputing me? I have to be honest; I do not know how to feel about your sudden disobedience, but I'll entertain it. Why do you disagree with my plans?" Sukuna chuckled, inching himself closer to your straight form.

Selfishness.

"You know as well as I the betrayal and deception among the women in this temple; bribery, extortion, treachery, and other deceitful actions. I understand you are not a man of morals, but we can agree upon our children's interests. You said it yourself, they've been able to excel further than any of the other children, and I strongly believe that has been possible with my watchful eye and protection."

"You make a very fascinating argument, Little Flower. However, I still do not understand how this is beneficial if you do not tell me what you're proposing directly," Sukuna questioned.

You knew fully what he wanted to hear from you, and you were willing to give it to him. Though the words that would spill from your mouth would be distasteful, you had to come too far in the game to back out. The two cards you had set on the table were choosing between life and dignity— the choice was evident between the two.

Life.

"Sukuna, I beg of you. Please let the children stay with me until they are old enough to communicate their thoughts; this will benefit you. The time they spend with me will not be fruitless. I will educate them to the best of my ability, and when you deem them ready, they can begin whatever training you set out for them; however, during that time, I only have one request..." you paused, seeing if you should continue.

"And what would that be, Little Flower?"

"That you protect them with your life," you answered.

"And if I do not accept these terms," the man countered.

Your answer determined not just your life but your children's. You were starting to run out of cards to play, and you couldn't run out to get a new deck at the moment. With every option you looked at, there was risk involved, but all the safe options hardly guaranteed the future you were hoping for. It was a true gamble. So, in those last moments of desperation, you played your shot in the dark.

"Then I walk from this temple, twins in hand."

The silence felt like hours while, in reality, it was only a few seconds. In those few seconds of silence, you could not help but feel slight regret...who would not feel this remorse in your situation. Though you have faced life-or-death decisions in the past, this one way is by far the most alarming, and the stillness wasn't doing you any favors.

Then came the infamous chuckle, one of his more notable responses that could strike fear in the most powerful shaman.

“Seems that my Little Flower has grown some thorns, hasn’t she?”

You could only look at him as he approached, towering over you in his close proximity.

"Is this an attempt at proposing a deal, Y/n?"

Deal.

That word sent shivers down your spine, but not out of fear or disgust. It was a pleasant quiver. It wasn’t effortless to broker a deal with Sukuna, especially since you were merely another one of his, and as much as you hated to refer to yourself in such a degrading way, concubines. If it had been anyone else, you could guarantee that their head would be cut clean off by now, making it clear that you had something of value on the table to offer by the fact you hadn’t been decapitated at the moment.

“Yes,” you answered confidently.

“Straightforward as always, I see. I think that is what I love most about you. You never seem to dance around the question,” Sukuna quipped, looking down at you with a look you still could not deduce, “Fine, I’ll take you up on this deal, as it is of mutual interest, but I want something in return.”

You nodded, waiting to hear what he wanted to put on the table.

“I want your word that you never leave this temple unless it is under my supervision and say so. Unless I’m accompanying you outside those gates, you will remain here. Do we have a deal?”

Outings from the temple were usually uncommon, but they were on occasion, but only a select few would attend such expeditions. These women were commonly accompanied by a chaperone: maids, guards, gardeners, anyone from Sukuna’s staff but never Sukuna Ryomen himself. The man was not known for being someone to leave the temple for leisurely walks or to run a quick errand to the local market, meaning you would practically be bound to the temple for as long as he stayed in your village and bound by his side for as long as he or you lived.

This was your gamble.

Selling your life entirely over to Sukuna for the safety of your kin.

"Yes, we have a deal."

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia

[vikilinda]

A LITTLE FAVOR

pairing(s): Georgie farmer x fem!reader

Summary: Your roomie asks you for a favor that you charge him in a scene, and it ends up being the best favor of your life.

"Oh please"

"Nope!"

"You just have to put on the wig and no one will notice"

Emma, ​​your co-star and friend, begs you to cover her in a scene, the two had become friends when they were both in the final casting test, it cannot be said that both had gotten the role.

"Come on, you don't have to say any dialogue"

Emma had been begging you to cover her in a scene tomorrow, of course you had been telling her no all this time. Something interesting about both of you was how much you two looked alike, not enough to be twins but you do share quite a few similar traits.

"And why isn't Jenna covering for you!"

Jenna, who has been watching you fight Emma, ​​peacefully shakes her head as she continues to eat popcorn.

"I have scenes tomorrow, even if I wanted to I can't"

"Oh come on y/n, you're my only hope, if the scene doesn't shoot tomorrow they'll have to push everything back to January"

You deny.

"It won't be that someone is like this, it's because of her scene partner"

You quickly give Jenna a dirty look. As much as you wanted to deny it, Jenna was only telling the truth, if you accepted your scene partner, it would be Georgie, of course that wasn't the problem, the real problem came with the scene, which was a kiss between Enid and Ajax.

¡You couldn't kiss Georgie!

You and Georgie were good friends, spending almost every day on set together, even seeing each other for off-set dialogue practice quite often. But you couldn't kiss him, not after you'd tried so hard to drown out every little hint of any feeling for him.

"Is this all about Georgie? But if you guys are good- OH. MY. GOOD"

Emma, ​​who seemed to have understood the situation, looks at you with flashing eyes and open mouth. Apparently your little secret had been discovered.

"All the more reason you have to cover me tomorrow"

"I can't"

"Y/n this may be your best chance to find out if he has feelings for you."

"And in the worst case you'll have kissed your crush and you'll have the whole spring break to forget about it" Interjects Jenna.

"Oh thanks"

"Oh come on Y/n, Jenna's right, this is a win/win for you. Please"

You sigh. You were definitely going to regret this.

"Fine…i do it."

"YESS!"

Both girls jump on top of you to celebrate, the three of you end up on the ground laughing out loud.

"I'm going to regret this so much"

—

"And…Action!"

Your heart gallops when you see how Georgie finishes the short sentence of her character, your scene was the last one to shoot so when you turn around you see almost all your friends and setmates, that only makes you more nervous.

Georgie starts to get closer to you but you just freeze to the ground. Why can't you just be professional, kiss him and end this.

"Sorry"

You don't wait for an answer and you just run to the closest place you can find, of course it ends up being one of the corridors of the school set. Why couldn't you kiss him? Why did you have to run away? God, what is wrong with you!

"Hey…are you alright?"

You don't know if you are exalted by the shock of not knowing that you had someone behind your back, or by the specific British accent of that someone.

"Yeah, I just needed to get some air"

"Are you sure?"

You nod. You still had your back to Georgie but it didn't take much of a look to know that Georgie was far away from you, you felt how close her body was to yours.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Georgie, seeing that you wouldn't turn around, he does, you look at the ground but he bends down in search of it. Georgie knew something was wrong, he knew you perfectly, you never got like that for a scene, not even that time you had to jump out of a window; So seeing you in that state he can't help but worry.

"Is it because of the number of people? Because I can tell Percy to distract them while we record"

"It's not that"

Georgie was a very patient person, very few things managed to get on his nerves, this was one of the few things. You kept looking away while giving monosyllabic answers, was he the problem? Had you been angry with him and hadn't noticed? He hadn't brushed his teeth?

Georgie takes your face in his hands and gently lifts it up so you can look into his eyes.

"Is it me? Can't you record the scene for me?"

Your lack of response confirms it. The look in his eyes kills you and makes you feel like the worst person in the world, he had only cared about you and instead you just avoid because you can't admit that it makes you so nervous that all body heat runs out of you.

"I'm sorry, I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. It's because of the breath, right? I never should have let Percy do the shopping."

You laugh and that makes Georgie feel better at least you're not mad at him.

"You don't make me uncomfortable and your breath is fine, I swear."

"And what is it? If you don't tell me I won't be able to fix it, y/n/n"

Here you were, if you were going to take out the bandage you were going to do it in one move.

"It's just… It's just that you make me nervous"

Georgio was a poem, you didn't know if he was confused, scared or surprised. Or if he at least had understood what you wanted to say.

"I can't kiss you because every time you got closer I felt like my heart was going to explode or run away. And I couldn't tell you anything because I didn't want to damage our friendship, although from your face you may not even understand what I'm trying to tell you…"

Georgie doesn't give you time to finish when he locks your body in his arms and his chest, making sure that this time you weren't going to run away anywhere. Join your lips with his.

You were kissing Georgie! After all they had ended up kissing and you had to admit that it was much better than you had imagined. When they separate, Georgie runs her gaze over your face, smiles.

"I was the one who asked Emma to switch scenes with you."

"What?"

Your eyes widened at her confusion, a smile beginning to escape from the corner of your lips. Georgie had planned all this.

"I couldn't leave without at least trying something. Those two months would have eaten my head"

"So you convinced Emma that she'll help you?"

"It was more blackmail on her part, but let's say yes. Are you upset?"

Emotions did not fit in you, how could you be upset? Georgie had gone to all the trouble to come up with a plan and blackmail your roomie just so he could kiss you.

"Y/n?"

You don't answer, not with words at least. You take her face in your hands and kiss it. Georgie takes a few more seconds to react, but when he does, he encloses you more in his arms, letting herself be guided by the dance that guides your lips.

They both smile when they see each other.

"How about we finish filming the scene, and after what it takes to get all this blood off of us, we go on a date"

"I'm lovin 'it"

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary '24 - Week 4: Strangers & Brothers

In under the wire, I've got my final Stanuary write posted just before bed on January 31st! Phew!

This particular one takes place in my Foster Ford AU, in which Ford is turned into a young child by an anomaly in Gravity Falls, picked up by Child Services, put into foster care, and ultimately crosses paths with Stan at school, where Stan is his new gym teacher. The first scene takes place before Ford has told Stan who he really is, when Stan is just Ford's gym teacher and a bit suspicious of this familiar-looking kid named Stanford who goes by Stan. And the second scene takes place a while later, after Stan got the approval to foster Ford. Specifically, the morning after Ford told Stan the truth about who he is.

Now I've finished this mountain of exposition, enjoy~

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan watched the kids running laps on the blacktop.  He frowned thoughtfully at the sight of Stanford Payne, once again clearly pushing himself, yet still in last place.

              Even Lucas is beating him, and that kid’s got asthma.  Stanford stumbled slightly.  All right, time to call it quits.  Stan blew his whistle.  The kids stopped running.

              “Good work, everyone!” Stan said cheerfully.  “The rest of class is free time.  Do whatever you want, as long as it’s exercise and legal.”  The kids giggled before dutifully dispersing.  Some began playing a game of freeze tag, others played hopscotch, and Stanford slinked off to the side, oozing a pathetic aura.  Stan sighed.  He walked over to Stanford, who was sitting on the grass to catch his breath.

              “Oh, uh, Mr. Pines, is- did I do something wrong?” Stanford stammered, gasping for air in between words.  He twisted the hem of his shirt nervously.

              “Yeah.”  Stanford’s eyes, hidden by his thick glasses, widened with horror.  “You’re not in trouble, kid, don’t worry!  But after you run laps, you’ve gotta cool down.  You can’t just sit right away.”

              “Oh.  Why not?”

              “It’s not good for you.”

              “Why?” Stanford pressed.

              “You’re advanced for your age, but I think the details of anatomy and physiology are a bit too much for you,” Stan said.  Stanford wrinkled his forehead, like he was about to argue, but decided against it.  “Come on, let’s do a cool down.”

              “What does a cool down entail?”

              “Just walking around.  Walk with me.”

              “O-okay,” Stanford mumbled.  He got up.  They began to walk around the perimeter of the blacktop, Stan making sure to keep an eye out on the other kids.  “Um.  Was there- was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

              “Actually, yeah.  There is.”  Stan took a moment to choose his words carefully.  “You seem to push yourself a lot.”

              “I’m just trying to keep up with everyone else,” Stanford mumbled.

              “I get it.  You don’t wanna feel like the runt of the litter,” Stan said.  Stanford nodded.  “But I don’t want you to worry about what everyone else is doing, okay?  Just focus on yourself.”

              “Why?” Stanford asked quietly.  Stan looked down at the kid, surprised.  He’d expected Stanford to be relieved Stan was giving him permission to back off.  Most unathletic kids were.  But Stanford seemed suspicious of the instruction.

              “Pushing yourself is bad, Stan.”  Stanford looked up at him, frowning.  “It took me a while to learn this, so I’m not gonna blame you for not knowing.  But if you push yourself too hard, all you’ll do is hurt yourself in the end.”

              “How?” Stanford asked.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

              This kid…

              “Okay, let’s think about it this way,” he said.  “You like math, right?”  Stanford nodded.  “Do you know how percentages work?”

              “Yes.”

              “Good.  Let’s say that when you push yourself, that’s using 100%.”

              “100% of what?” Stanford asked.  Stan could feel himself getting a migraine already.  He took a deep breath.

              He’s not being difficult on purpose.  He might be crazy smart, but he’s just a little kid.

              “Let’s call it gym energy.”

              “Okay.”

              “When you push yourself, you use 100% of your gym energy.  If you do gym normally, not pushing too hard but not slacking off, that’s 50%.  And when you slack off, it’s 20%.  Still following?”  Stanford nodded.  “So if you push yourself in gym class, and you use 100% of your gym energy, how much gym energy is left?”

              “None of it.”

              “That’s right.  Your gym energy refills over time.  Let’s say it’s 1% each hour.  If you push yourself and use up all your gym energy, how much do you have the next day to use in gym class?”

              “Somewhere between 23% and 24%.”

              “What can you do with that much gym energy?”

              “Slack off.”  Stanford furrowed his brow.  “But I haven’t been doing that!  I’ve been working hard every day!”  Stan nodded.  The kid seemed to be catching on.

              “Because you aren’t doing it healthy.  If you wanna exercise healthy, then the most you can do after pushing yourself is slacking off.  If you wanna exercise unhealthy, then you can push yourself over and over.  But it’s not good for you.”

              “It puts me in gym energy debt,” Stanford said slowly.

              “Exactly!  When you use gym energy you don’t have, you wind up in debt.  And eventually, someone’s gonna come to collect on it.  You’re young and healthy, so you’ve got more leeway than I’ve got, with my old man creaky bones.”  Stan winked.  Stanford managed a small smile.  “But it’ll happen.  Your body will give up on you until your gym energy is back to healthy levels.  You won’t be able to do gym class.  You won’t be able to do much of your favorite things.  All you can do is wait.”

              “…I see.”

              “I’m not telling you this to scare you, Stan.”  Stan crouched down so he was eye-to-eye with Stanford.  “I’m telling you this so that you’ll be healthy.  My dad never told me any of this, so I pushed myself.  I didn’t learn how to exercise right until I moved out and joined a different gym.  I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”  Stanford nodded jerkily.  “I’ll send a note home with you so your foster parents know I talked to you about this.”

              “Why?”

              “So they can help you stick to not pushing yourself!”

              “I- I suppose I am merely a five-year-old,” Stanford mumbled.

              “Right now, yeah.  And that’s why you’ve gotta get help from grownups.”  Stan straightened.  “Tomorrow, I want you to slack off in gym, okay?”

              “But-”

              “You can do normal stuff the day after tomorrow,” Stan interrupted.  “But tomorrow, you’ve got too much gym energy debt.  You’ve gotta take it easy for at least one day.  Okay?”

              “…Okay.”

              “Good.”  The bell rang from inside the school.  The kindergarten teachers walked outside and began to usher their students in.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stan.”

              “See you then, Mr. Pines,” Stanford said quietly.  Stan ruffled his hair.  Stanford grinned weakly at him, then hurried over to his teacher.  Stan watched the kindergarteners go in.

              That kid…  Sweet Moses.  Hopefully I can get through to him.  He shouldn’t make the same mistakes I did.  He’s too smart for it.

-----

              Stan let Ford sleep in.  It was the least he could do after yesterday.

              I shouldn’t have gone so hard on him.  I’m the adult.  I can’t lose it like that.  Stan turned on the coffeemaker and stood in front of it blankly.  He thought he’d done a good job of holding back, but Ford’s reaction suggested otherwise.  Can you blame me?  He was arguing with himself now.  I’ve been fostering him for months.  I thought he was my nephew!  But he’s not.  He’s my twin brother who got himself involved with some crazy magic shit in Oregon.

              “It doesn’t matter,” Stan muttered to the coffeemaker.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m the adult.  He’s just a little kid.  Even if he wasn’t one a few years ago.”  He rubbed his forehead wearily.

              I’m gonna get a world class migraine over this shit.  I can just tell.  Soft footsteps sounded behind him.  Stan looked over his shoulder.  Ford stood in the entryway of the kitchen, fully dressed.

              “You’re ready for the day already?” Stan asked.  Ford shrugged.  “I thought you were gonna sleep in.  I haven’t even started breakfast yet.”

              “I can fend for myself,” Ford said. 

              “Nah, no point,” Stan said.  “If I’m up, I might as well get you sorted out.”  Ford scowled.

              “You don’t trust me to make myself a simple bowl of cereal or peel an orange, do you?” he asked.

              I’m too uncaffeinated to deal with this.

              “Whattaya want me to say, Ford?” Stan asked.  “We both know what happened the last time you tried to make your own breakfast.”  Ford’s cheeks turned pink.  Stan and Angie had accidentally overslept, only to be woken up by a loud crash in the kitchen.  When they rushed in, they found Ford on the floor.  He’d fallen off the chair he used to reach the cabinet cereal was stored in.

              “I learned from that particular mistake,” Ford said tightly.  “I can manage it now.”

              “Like I said, I’m up anyways.  And I am your legal guardian,” Stan pointed out.  Ford’s cheeks darkened to red.  Stan looked at the coffeemaker.  It was moving just as slow as he was; barely a few drops were in the pot.  He sighed and turned it off.  “Actually, let’s get some donuts.”

              “Aunt Angie will be upset you aren’t providing a nutritious breakfast,” Ford mumbled.

              “Yeah, well, Angie doesn’t need to know,” Stan retorted.  He raised an eyebrow at Ford.  “What’s with still calling her your aunt?”

              “Force of habit.”

              “I guess you’ll have to keep calling her that until we tell her the truth anyways,” Stan said.  He headed for the front door.

              “Do we have to tell her?” Ford asked.  The question came out as a whine.  Stan began to put on his shoes.

              “Yep,” he said without looking up.  “I’m not gonna lie to my wife, Ford.”

              “But-”

              “She hates being lied to.  I’m not screwing up the best relationship I’ve ever had.”

              “…Fine.”  Ford clumsily put on his Velcro sneakers.  “If we have to tell her, we’ll tell her.”  He glared at Stan.  “But I’m not happy about it.”

              “That’s life, sport.”  Acting on muscle memory, Stan checked that Ford’s shoes were fastened properly, then helped him put on his jacket.  He pushed open the front door.  “C’mon.”  Stan held out a hand.  Ford looked at it.  “You’re five.  You’re gonna hold my hand.”  Ford reluctantly slid his hand into Stan’s.

              They walked down the street in awkward silence.  San Diego in January wasn’t even close to a Glass Shard Beach winter, but there were occasionally days that merited a jacket or even a coat.  That particular morning was cold enough that Stan and Ford’s breath escaped in visible puffs.  Ford’s cheeks were pink, not from embarrassment, but from the chill in the air, by the time they reached the bakery.  Stan pushed open the door.  Ford rushed in to look at the offerings behind the counter.  Stan followed at a more sedate pace.

              “Hey there Cindy,” Stan said to the young woman manning the register.  She smiled at him.

              “Good morning, Mr. Pines.”

              “I’ll get my regular donut.  Plus a large coffee.”

              “Cream or sugar?”

              “Uh, cream, no sugar.”  Stan looked over at Ford.  The steam that covered Ford’s glasses when they entered was beginning to fade, revealing his excited look.  “You know what you want, Ford?”

              “Um…”  Ford stood on his tiptoes, inspecting the items on the top shelf.

              Was Ford that short the first time he was five?  He can’t have been...  He was taller than me until high school, and I know I wasn’t that short in kindergarten.  Stan frowned slightly.  Why would he be shorter than before?

              “I’ll have a bear claw,” Ford said.  He put his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his toes.  “…And a small coffee with cream and sugar.”  The addition came out as a nervous squeak.  Stan rolled his eyes.  He looked at Cindy.

              “Small hot chocolate for him.”

              “Can I at least get whipped cream and marshmallows?” Ford whined.

              “No.  You’re having plenty of sugar this morning as it is,” Stan said firmly.  Ford pouted.  Cindy chuckled as she rang up the purchases and grabbed the pastries.

              “I’ll bring you your drinks when they’re ready.”

              “Thanks, Cindy.”

              “No problem, Mr. Pines.”

              “C’mon, Ford,” Stan said.  He and Ford walked over to a small table in the corner of the bakery.  Stan lifted Ford onto a chair, ignoring his protests, and then sat in a chair himself.

              “You didn’t need to lift me,” Ford grumbled.

              “It was faster than waiting five minutes while you try to get on the chair and then give up and ask me to pick you up anyways,” Stan said.  Ford scowled at him.  “Were you this short before?”

              “If you’re referring to the first time I was five, no, I do not believe so,” Ford mumbled. 

              “Huh.  I wonder why you’re shorter this time.”

              “Perhaps whatever did this to me wanted me to be particularly vulnerable,” Ford said.  Stan shrugged.

              “Dunno.  But it is particularly cute,” he teased.  Ford rolled his eyes.  He began to pick at his pastry.  “So…”

              “So, I think we should begin planning how to reverse my condition,” Ford said, perking up.  “This whole mess started in Gravity Falls, so we should go there.  Perhaps retrace my steps.”

              “Uh.  Do you remember that far back?”

              “I’m not an infant, Stanley,” Ford scoffed.  “I could never forget that day.”

              “All right.  If you say so.”

              “The Corduroys agreed to keep an eye upon my cottage whilst I am away, so we can stay there while we investigate.  If we leave tomorrow morning, we should get to Gravity Falls by the afternoon.  We can drop off our things at the cottage, then go to the creek where I-”

              “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stan said, holding up his hands.  “You gotta slow down there, kiddo.”  He looked at the already mostly eaten bear claw.  “Both in making plans and chewing your food.  Eat slower.  It’s better for digestion.”

              “You have a lot of opinions about nutrition and healthy living,” Ford mumbled.  He reluctantly slowed down, taking a single bit at a time.

              “They make you take classes on that stuff for a Phys Ed degree.  Look, we can’t leave tomorrow.”

              “Why not?” Ford whined petulantly.  Stan gave Ford an assessing look.

              Does he realize what that sounded like?  Ford pouted at him.  No.  He doesn’t.  Like you keep reminding yourself, he might act all big-brained and grownup, but he’s still a kid.  And every day he stays one, he acts more like it.

              “First, we need to convince Angie about this whole…”  Stan waved his hands around vaguely.  “…thing.  She needs to be in the loop.  Anyways, she’s a biologist!  She might be able to help.”

              “That’s true,” Ford said quietly.

              “After we convince her, we’ve gotta work around everyone’s schedules.  I’ve got work, you’ve got school, and Angie’s got work and school.  We’ll need to plan based around when people are free.”

              “School isn’t in session,” Ford pointed out.  He took another bite of bear claw.

              “Not right now.  It starts next week,” Stan said.  Ford deflated.

              “You- you don’t think we can return me to my normal self by then?” he whispered.  Stan sighed.

              “I don’t know how long it’s gonna take to get you back to normal, Sixer.  But I can tell you right now, it’s gonna take way longer than a week.  Honestly, we might not be able to make any progress until the summer, when we don’t have to work around the school schedule.”  Somehow, Ford deflated even further.

              “For the foreseeable future, then, I’m…”

              “Gonna have to keep being my nephew Stanford Payne, yep,” Stan said with a nod.  Ford groaned.  He slammed his head on the table, sending crumbs from his finished bear claw flying.

              “Great,” Ford mumbled into the table.  “You insist on being responsible at the worst time.”

              “I’ve been responsible.  For years, actually.  Shermie drilled it into me.”

              “What has even changed as a result of me telling you who I actually am?” Ford said, ignoring Stan.  Stan lifted Ford’s chin to look into his eyes.

              “The most important thing: I know the truth.  Everything else is gonna happen later.  But it’s gonna happen.  Because now that I know, we can work together.  Like we used to.  Remember?”  Ford smiled.  The smile abruptly faded.

              “I’m- I’m honestly a bit surprised you’re willing to help me.  After everything.  The science fair, the estrangement, the lying…”

              “We’re still brothers,” Stan said firmly.  “After all of that and whatever else we do.”  Cindy came over to their table.  She set down their drinks, ruffled Ford’s hair, and returned to her spot behind the counter.  Stan grinned at him.  “Even if I’m the big brother now.”

[piratekane]

i read a lot of books in january so i figure that i'd give y'all a quick rundown on what i loved, what was terrible (affectionate), and what was also terrible (derogatory).

top reads:

Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid okay, why did no one tell me how good this book was? i knew the show was about music but wasn't super into giving it a watch. i was not expecting the format at all but boy did it set up a compelling story. billy and daisy truly were the bitch4bitch relationship everyone needs. 5 stars

Locklands by Robert Jackson Bennet this is the final installment in the founder trilogy and what. an. ending. the first, Foundryside, was a solid start with a weird plot point at the end but and it picked up in Shorefall with more lore (that i loved) but really blossomed into something amazing in Locklands. the POV changed, the villain evolved, the lore - i love a good magic system, truly i do, and it just came together for me. came for the sapphic romance (of which there is not much in Foundryside) and stayed for the story. would recommend to my cousin. 5 stars

terrible (affectionate):

Yearning by Gun Brooke this was just... okay, so. aliens. aliens and a femme-butch cop (you know the type) and a high-femme librarian (you also know this kind) whose clinical exterior is broken down by the sudden realization that she can be queer because she's actually living in a town filled with descendants of aliens. it was quick and easy and i just kept going, "aliens. fucking aliens." 3 stars (no alien-makeout scene)

terrible (derogatory):

Wild and Wicked Things by Francesca May i tried to like this one. i really did. Great Gatsby meets Practical Magic isn't my cup of tea but my cousin recommended it and she reads for a living so i said sure. that cousin is uninvited from christmas next year. the pacing was so off and the two main characters were either "edgy" or a wet mop. their romance was terrible (edgy-witch too edgy to be in love) and felt forced. the story either zipped through major plot points that needed work or just. dragged. on. almost did not finish but it would have haunted me not to 1.5 stars

honorable mention:

i read Nevernight by Jay Kristoff again. it's a classic. mia and ash, my favorite murder children. i will read godsgrave posthaste 10 stars

plans for february:

Faebound by Saara El-Arifi i'm reading this one now and i like the premise so far. Samantha Shannon gave it a stamp of approval, hence my willingness to give it a shot. guess we'll see!

Roots of Chaos series by Samantha Shannon a friend just reread A Day of Fallen Night and it's got me longing for 800 page books all over again. might have to just give in

queer fantasies really anything that's queer fantasy. if y'all have recommendations, throw them my way!

okay so that's that, see you again next month!

[tragedycoded]

heyyy, now that dmls is finally finished, I wanna ask: Was there anything you were forced to cut from it?? (And if so, can we see it??)

Leah! Hi! Thank you for the ask :> This turned into a giant post, I am so sorry LOL.

I'm going to show you something that was cut because I realized they were in a time loop midway through draft 4.

So ORIGINALLY, in March 1873, Sullivan and Hofer were afield (on a military operation that had them sleeping in bedrolls in the middle of nowhere.) Lon threw a note wrapped around a brick through Royston's window, only it wasn't Royston's window, it was his neighbor. Neighbor was like LON YOU FUCKING MORON and walked the note over to Royston, who came out on the balcony and provoked Lon into challenging him to a duel (we see him do this in January.)

I cut this chapter because I realized they were in a time loop as I was writing it.

The first half is whatever, it's Buck telling the story to Sullivan, who starts asking questions, and if I were going to show it to folks I'd have to run it by my roommate (my sensitivity reader) bc Buck is being mean/rude to Sullivan.

But yeah. Gott flat-out told Royston "Some of us remember" and I was like WHOA WAIT WHAT and just kept trucking. As one does. So this is alllllll just me letting them tell me/each other what the situation is.

It's not CANON because I haven't sorted out whose death would have caused a loop where they both were able to retain information without physical contact and also be cooperating. Possibly the second loop when Hofer was shot in the neck en route to Westerberg's cabin, but Sullivan still died in that run.

So I think of this as more like "Sullivan took over the Storyteller's little room outside spacetime and used it to conspire with Royston to get me to let him save Hofer." (Hofer died in draft 3.)

It will probably appear as a scene in the interactive novel, because the more I think about it the more I think they could have avoided doing this eight fucking times. If I get them cooperating sooner, then it doesn't make sense that Sullivan would be cross with Royston for so long that Royston has to follow him to Fort Cano. That's a Bad Ending. But we don't see why Royston always has to push Sullivan off the train unless they get a Bad Ending you can't just take my word for it so a;dfa;dkfa;dlsfk.

Anyway, I have for you today ~1100 words cut from draft 4. Sullivan starts out talking to Buck, who is relaying details of the fight, and he's had enough of Buck insinuating Royston has a deal with the Devil that lets him fight so well. (He doesn't. That's what 30+ years of honing a skill will do. That's why Buck is the best shit-talker in the midwest, he'd been doing it since the [redacted] Revolution.)

"Was it quick?" Sullivan interrupted.

He didn't want to hear anymore. Every other time he'd sat and had to hear it, he'd made himself listen all the way to the end, because he thought he might hear something different. Because he needed the confirmation that Royston was exactly the sort of man he thought he was. Every other time, he did not like the answer he received, or that he had to wait until Buck's story came to its final conclusion.

Sheriff Mason wasn't going to do anything different this time Buck told the story than he did last time. Lon Huston wasn't going to not die in the street after Arthur Royston sidestepped him, got behind him, and drew a line from the tip of his blade to Huston's heart. The man he loved wasn't going to find a way out of dealing with Lon Huston that didn't involve killing him.

Cole Sullivan loved a violent man. Cole Sullivan loved a man who figured, after the second one, that killing was getting pretty easy. After the third, he started getting paid for his talent.

Sullivan wasn't but eighteen when he killed his first man. Thought he was being transferred to the sharpshooter division but they'd snagged him for the cavalry instead, assigned him a black gelding named Coal and sent him to the French border. An Osage scout, couldn't have been any older than Sullivan was, and he'd hit him from 275 meters away without waiting to be ordered. If he'd waited any longer, the scout would have fired upon their point. The other men had drank to him that night, but he hadn't felt anything but numb, after killing his first man.

Couldn't figure how Royston felt amusement before killing a man, but Sullivan hadn't had to live Royston's life. Half of what he'd told him already, seeing how the men around him treated everything as an opportunity to bet money, he could only imagine what it had been like when he was wilder and less disciplined.

This time, Buck laughed and said, "Oh, yeah, Sergeant, it was quick."

"Took about ten seconds," Gregor added.

That was all he needed to hear. Sullivan couldn't listen to any more of this.

As the first sergeant marched out, Gregor sighed, "Don't worry, Buck, I'll listen to the rest of yer dang story."

#

The trooper went out the front door, because he was angry and hoping the walk from the bar to the boarding house's parlor would give him time to cool down. Wasn't wise, standing around long enough for Buck to say something insensitive, like he had last time.

The gambler went in the back door, because he always went in the back door, and because he didn't want anyone on the main street to see him entering the saloon. Was foolhardy enough, staying in the same area that the horse thieves knew him to operate.

Last time, Sullivan had stood in the parlor for nearly ten minutes before Gott found him, and offered to carry a note across the street to the saloon. Last time, Gott had let Sullivan into Royston's room to wait for him there. Royston had been offended, when she told him this. And she had told him he was going to lose a good man if he did not stop flaunting how little he cared.

Some of us remember, Mister Royston, she had told him, last time.

And that was when the gambler understood. They were doomed.

This time, they knew they would miss each other. They knew. When Royston realized he had missed Sullivan , he narrowed his eyes at Buck and ignored him. Chose, in front of Gregor and the dozen people who were in The Pig & Whistle on a Saturday evening in March, to ignore Buchanan God-damned Yeats. Rushed the length of the bar, out the front door, down the main street, to Hell with whoever saw him, and followed Sullivan into the boarding house.

This time, they had nothing left to argue about. Last time, they had had plenty to argue about. Royston had lied to him, last time.

When Royston burst into the parlor of The German House where he often found himself opening his eyes after dying, or thinking he was going to die, or screaming well on his way to dying, he found Sullivan standing at the window, hands folded behind his back, where Royston himself had often stood while waiting for him. The lightness of his footsteps told Sullivan who it was before he turned around, and when Sullivan did turn, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, showed his teeth, just a flash, through the salted red of his beard.

"Are you well?" Sullivan asked, this time.

"You're not angry?" Royston asked, this time.

"Why would I be angry with you​​?"

"… because you were last time we were here."

"How much can you remember?"

Royston is fraught as he pins himself in place, tapping the energy out of the toe of his loafer.

"Not enough," he said. "No names—"

"Which you don't retain to begin with," Sullivan shrugged.

"Hey!"

Sullivan cleared his throat and bit back a smile. Royston melted.

"Only a vague recollection of their fields of study… no notion of where they came from…"

"What was your associate's name?"

"Who?"

"The one who goes to… shit!"

"You can't remember anything either. We're doing something wrong."

"We remember enough, and you… you're listening to me, things are changing. We can…"

"I forget when you're not around, it's as if I have to start all over when I see you again."

"We have made progress, Arthur. I've made inquiries, and Erik is asking old classmates from the medical college if the names are at all familiar. You will hear from your associate, and we will find the right path forward from there. I recognize it is… novel, working in a group—"

"Excuse you, I have worked in a group before—"

"I apologize, Arthur, I was—"

"Making a jest?" Royston purred.

"Well... a remark that was not critical."

"If I were to provide you the opportunity to repeat the remark uninterrupted, would you take it?"

"Gladly."

Royston held out an arm to indicate Sullivan had the floor.

"I recognize it is novel for you to work in a group, but I strongly believe the three of us can stop whatever is going to happen from happening if we work together."

"Now… remind me, by three of us, are you referring to your surgeon friend, or to Molly?"

"Oh for the love of Pete, Arthur, Molly is my horse."

//

Heyyyy tag list <3

@leahnardo-da-veggie @the-golden-comet @cowboybrunch @lychhiker-writes

@wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight @gioiaalbanoart @jev-urisk

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 17-19 and final thoughts previous chapter

it is done. the final installment of on fire is here and i am finally free.

thank you @dear-massacre for listening to me rant about this book and encouraging me to finish it.

and a thank you to @give-emhalekid for inspiring this re-read of on fire to begin with. i can finally answer your asks appropriately!

in addition to my notes and final thoughts on this novel i did make contact with the author nancy holder and have been sitting on that email for over a month now. so i'll be talking about that too.

anyway.

We start this chapter in Kate’s narration in yet another flashback to six years prior. This is when she gets information out of Mr. Harris. 

The bar is called Randy Andy’s by the way. Which, and it may just be me, makes me fully believe this bar is playing Brooks and Dunn's 1991 hit Boot Scootin' Boogie on repeat.

She mentions that Harris hadn’t seen her around the school but she had pinpointed him quickly as someone weak and that she could use. This tracks.

She gets what she wants out of Harris and as she leaves the bar (which is handily across from her apartment) she sees Derek leaving with his school bag. She freaks out worried he’s onto her or found something in her apartment. 

She follows him home just to be sure she’s in the clear. Like a freak.

When she returns she finds a note Derek left her explaining what happened. 

However, feeling as though she could’ve been exposed, Kate decides to up the timetable of setting the fire. 

Because we cannot have nice things.

We then get a small scene where she’s filling the gas cans and apparently Alt Version of Mr. McCall is the gas station attendant but he’s on the phone arguing with Melissa over money and blaming her for things. He's actually worse than canon Mr. McCall which I didn't think was possible.

Kate goes on to have her inner celebration and reminisce over her seduction of Derek. You know, just girlie things.

Once again the timeline is throwing me off. Holder places the Hale fire near Wolf Moon which makes the show starting around the same time a nice call forward but she also has homecoming around the same time. Derek muses about Kate being a chaperone for the dance and Laura is at school that morning to attend a committee meeting for the dance. For me, Homecoming was always during the Football season in September. Not that I ever went but this in January if it’s the Wolf Moon. Football season is over. This doesn't make any sense to me.

We finally return to both the present day and to Derek and Stiles. It’s been 84 years. I've aged lifetimes.

Derek tells Stiles that you can’t trust human women and leaves him once more as Derek has caught the Alpha’s scent. This is Bizzaro Derek.

Holder has given us two different wolf references mere pages from each other. She has Derek listen to Wolfgang Gartner and Stiles apparently playing Wolfenstein on his phone (this may be Wolfenstien RPG which apparently came out on mobile in 2008).

I looked up Wolfgang Gartner -- because this is what I do -- and according to Wikipedia the earliest single he released under this particular name was in 2007 which would be after the fire. He does however have a single called Hot for Teacher. I am going to fight the author.

We’re back in Scott’s narration now. He’s not having a good time. There’s smoke making everything hazy and he senses the werewolf that bit him. He calls it his “waking, walking nightmare.” and the wolf side of him is conflicted by the threat but also by the sense of pack. 

Through the haze Scott does see the Alpha and they make eye contact. Once again Scott refuses to kill like in Pack Mentality. He references the incident by name. 

A burning tree falls down because of course it does. Some of the sparks get on Scott so he has to remove his jacket and shirt. This is Teen Wolf after all.

Scott fights the shift trying to figure out how to save himself and Allison from the blaze.

Allison begins to become overwhelmed by the smoke and goes into a coughing fit.’ Which, heh, kinda fits with Scott having asthma previously before the bite.

Next chapter opens back on Jackson who is still having a very bad time. His vision is doubled and tripled as he passes out.

Scott remembers that Allison once did gymnastics and suggests that she use those skills to get out so he lifts her up and she somersaults out I suppose. Like a goddamned Power Ranger.

I swear Stiles is the author’s least favorite. Stiles hears a howl and begins looking for Scott and or Derek. He’s yelling for them both as he attempts to track Scott’s phone. Derek shows up with a “Yeah.” 

Though I’ll admit this exchange made me laugh:

“Yeah,” Derek said, bursting from the trees. He was wolfed out, and Stiles let fly with a high-pitched, girly scream. “Was that you?” Stiles yelled. “No, that was you,” Derek said in disgust. “I mean the howl.”

Derek tries to assure Stiles the Alpha needs Scott but Stiles reminds him that he doesn’t need Allison. Derek says he also doesn’t need Allison which is a sentiment that Stiles disagrees with. Canon Derek would never. 

They talk about mountain ash because Derek recognizes it from the pictures Scott was able to send. The explanation holds up fairly well to what we’re told in the show.

They find Scott and Stiles tries to instruct him but he’s in a state of panic. Derek points out that he cannot make sense of what Stiles is trying to tell him due to the panic. 

E x c u s e M e. What the fuck did I just read?

Stiles wants to call 911 so a fire truck can gain access but Derek warns against it due to Scott being shifted. Derek then takes a swing at Stiles, Stiles shoves him and Derek falls off the cliff. 

I am so tired. 

This is a Stiles accurate line at least: “So many times, Stiles had wished for Derek to up and die. But he hadn’t meant for him to really die. Except that maybe had meant for him to really die. Just maybe not in pain, and not in front of Stiles.”

Scott pounces on Derek and they tussle. Stiles is conflicted on who he’s cheering for. 

Scott doesn’t have a shirt on.

And a moment later --

“A wind washed through the tops of the bushes and showered Derek with fiery debris, setting his jacket on fire.”

Derek rips off his jacket (RIP jacket) and his shirt now leaving him also shirtless. 

I see you Teen Wolf. The Weather Girls It's Raining Men is the unofficial anthem.

Stiles calls 911 because he clearly is the one holding the brain cell.

We’re back to Allison. She’s running through the woods calling for help when she spots what could only be the Alpha as she calls it an evil animal. It stalks closer to her but it moves away and she sees the wolf that she and Scott had seen earlier. 

The “good” wolf’s presence seems to scare off the Alpha. It then guides Allison to safety. This wolf is never explained but it gives me Expecto Patronum vibes.

Except her safety is Kate. 

Allison is now lying her ass off about why she was at the Preserve rather than with Lydia and Kate’s questioning her hard.

I had forgotten about Jackson. The van exploded by the way as the police came into the parking lot. He feels momentarily guilty about Cassie then he promptly passes out, which honestly I don’t blame him for. He’s had a shitty day.

Meanwhile back at Werewolf Rumble Derek is able to bring Scott back to himself and just as they begin to try to escape they accidentally do the memory ritual via Derek’s claws accidentally slicing Scott’s wrist and you know what? I don’t care anymore. 

We get one last flashback to Derek and Laura post fire. They’re at their burned home and insane with grief. In the remains Derek finds that stupid ring he gave Kate because she’s so evil and terrible. Like. Fucking hell. 

We cut to Jackson being taken to the hospital and Lydia ignoring the paramedics to ride with him. He feels guilty about Cassie’s death and tries to convince himself there was nothing he could do. In truth, there probably wasn’t. He ends up wondering if Bailey had really known about his biological father.

Allison at this point does in fact find it sus that Kate just happened to be out driving to the fire but she doesn’t examine anything too closely yet as she finds Scott and Stiles. She’s relieved that Scott's okay. 

The book ends with Derek watching the scene from afar. Kate catches his eye and taunts him one last time because of course Kate does. Derek doesn’t respond. 

The final line is kind of baller though. “There are more of us, bent on payback. And domination. And death. And we are coming.”

Some parting thoughts:

I remember mostly enjoying this book back when I first read it upon it's release in 2012. I think it's because I was so thirsty for more backstory on the characters and more adventures in the world.

There's a post somewhere on my blog about the book somewhere but re-reading ten years later I was definitely more critical of it and found it to be a frustrating endeavor. Maybe it's because I'm older or maybe it's because the show is over.

Largely I think it's because the book itself had no real resolution. It couldn't but I'll explain that later.

Even if there's reason for the open-ended nature of the novel it's still genuinely frustrating especially because this is a stand alone novel with no follow up.

I thought there were too many flashbacks and not enough time spent on the actual plot. Jackson is the entire plot yet we spend very little time with him in the book and he never actually interacts with the main cast except with Lydia through a text. Fucking wild. Some of Jackson's best character stuff is when he's bouncing off the other characters so it was a real shame he didn't interact with them.

The biggest issue I have though is with Derek's characterization. It just doesn't even seem like Derek to me even early season 1 Derek. The whole human slander isn't ever a thing with him.

I loathed how Laura was handled. The information we have on Laura doesn't even fill a thimble but I'd rather not know a damn thing than this version where she said the word "mateable" and isn't all that bothered by her sixteen year old brother being involved with not only an older woman but a teacher that has authority over him. Her reaction shuts Derek down so he no longer expresses his misgivings. I couldn't tell if this was on purpose or not.

I also didn't like how Stiles felt like the unfavorite here. Holder, I think had a decent grasp of his voice, but not how others reacted to him.

I also have mixed feelings about the world building Holder did via the werewolves. There were aspects I did like but overall I found it too heavy handed and too patriarchal. I think the direction the show took it was better. Talia Hale is a much better and more interesting choice.

I still do not understand why this book was commissioned at all. It isn't canon and it doesn't even follow the plot of season 1. Basically this was a promotional tool that fell short in my opinion. A waste of Holder's talent and the reader's interest.

However, there are reasons for some of this though like I said.

Back in November when I was in the middle of the book I did some research because I was insanely curious as to why this book was written the way it was. I found Nancy Holder's website which had a contact form.

I screwed up my courage and sent her a brief message asking about why the novel only referred to the first 5 episodes while largely being it's own plot. It's very unusual for a tie in novel

She answered really quickly and while her explanation didn't surprise me it still sort of did.

Essentially she was given a lot of freedom in developing her own plot as she was instructed to not give away any spoilers for the second half of the season. Which is why there's hardly anything to do with the Alpha plot line and Peter is largely left alone.

According to Holder, she is the one who asked Jeff if she would be able to fill in Derek and Kate's backstory so that whole plot is her own creation and he told to "go for it".

I think a lot of fanon seems to possibly originate with her due to this freedom which is interesting.

She's a huge fan of Teen Wolf and I found it super endearing even if I didn't like all her writing choices.

In conclusion:

[simlit]

| story | characters | fan mail | extras |

CotS Chapter Four: Reflections | Forest

A year and a half later, we're finally done with this chapter. Admittedly, I did go back and retroactively split this chap into two, separating the portal trial from the forest trial so the episode count wouldn't get obnoxiously high. With the conclusion of this arc, and holidays coming up, I will be taking a very deliberate hiatus (as opposed to all my accidental ones) from CotS until January.

Currently, we're around 65% of the way through the overall story. Even that might be a bit of an overestimate, but my outline is constantly being reworked as new bits develop. Some scenes I've had planned since the beginning, while others have been completely character or audience driven. The most challenging part of writing an interactive story is having to figure out what the hell to do after everyone votes to blow up my plans (lmao), and having to scrap entire scenes when a different route gets picked. That being said, reader input has influenced some of my favorite aspects of the story, especially in this chapter. Such as Taiyo's hemomancy (thanks comment section), as well as the curse's condition for removal which I got to through a conversation with @rollingsim. Even though what I actually messaged her about never panned out in the story, the byproduct was just a good.

In the next chapter, at least for the first half, I want to slow things down and touch base with the Ten while we still have them all in one place, before getting to the next trial. There will be a heavy focus on the main story in the coming scenes, finding out more about what's been going on in the background, solving some longstanding mysteries, as well as settling some old grudges between some of the characters (for better or worse, who knows). We'll also be having our next major romance vote (potentially one of our last) so maybe, as Leslie would say, somebody will finally be making with the makey outy.

Now that this chap has completely finished and I have some freetime before starting the next, I'm open to any questions about "what ifs" or "might have beens". I know a couple of you were asking about it way back when, so now is your chance. Feel free to send me an ask or sound off in the comments about specific routes or scenarios and I'll write something up if there's anything there worth telling. Other than that, I'll leave you with the current updated relationship meters, as per usual. And don't forget to vote on the end of chapter poll ~

current screenshot count: 2205 current pose count: 691

chapter five teaser below…

[oz-me]

I have to do this. More posts to come about this, but this is a quick post from my twitter about everything that happened with Sad Milk.: This context is entirely from twitter, with the expectation Blair will see it.

I think it’s time that I actually speak out on the current twitter threads regarding Sad Milk. I cannot express how scared I am to do this, the fear I have in my gut to even speak out. However, I do feel it’s important to say my peace on this subject matter.

Yeah, it’s a mess, but the tweet threads posted by wonder and Click, and what they have stated about Sad Milk is the truth. I will be adding those threads below.

The whole project was a mess. From start to finish. I really wish I didn’t need to do this, but with the flurry of Dm’s I’ve been getting, I don’t have a choice but to speak out.

Blair, I’m sorry, but you have hurt me. I need to speak without being told by you “Oh I’m just the villain? I’m always in the wrong?” or something along those lines. Words I have heard from you consistently. I want to be heard for once. I need to clear my mind and conscious after holding this in for 2 years. Forgive me, but it's what needs to be done. When looking at the whole of the project, it was mostly controlled and run by Blair. 

Her main worry was that because of her, in her words, "Lack of Personality" she felt as though her contribution to sadmilk needed to be the managerial bureaucracy behind the scenes to justify her presence. This led to a defensive approach when anyone would attempt to assist with the nitty gritty behind the scenes. (Despite her claiming that no one wanted to help her. One of the factors she claims to be the final nail in the coffin of Sad Milk). Blair was indeed the aggressor. She always has been. As an example of this behavior, look at the legal eagle situation. Blair has the habit of starting fights, but will almost never publicly apologize if proven wrong.

She will instead hide behind a private apology probably, and from my perspective, act as though this makes everything better. Afterall, she would express to me that admitting error would only make her look stupid and weak.

This will be followed by her blocking people on twitter, silencing her detractors through youtube channel bans, deleting comments, and putting her accounts on the downlow to prevent interaction. For example, on Sad Milk, she would blacklist former collaborators from being mentioned, but manually approve hateful comments towards them, which in my opinion, were specifically ones which instead praised her or the remaining members. Including me. This is her MO. It has been for the 4 years that I’ve known her. It actually perfectly ties into how we first met and began to be on speaking terms in April of 2019. Sadmilk was very much like this. At the first sign of dissonance, her response was to have me confront OT and Click with this list of talking points in an attempt to show them just how wrong they were. Which I accepted. This brings me to, well. Me. What is missing from both Click and Wonders threads, is that fact that I acted as Blairs front runner. Anything Blair needed to say went through me first. Essentially act as a spokesman. This was actually a common factor in our relationship. 

I would always act as a filter to keep her out of drama or from saying things which would be seen as offensive or kindle for a larger fire. I stopped doing this in January. This does not excuse me from protecting her for this long, but it is the truth. I could take the approach and say I was manipulated. Which, perhaps I was, but I still knew what I was doing was wrong. I always did, and it always hurt. It left a huge blackmark on my spirit and my ability to feel comfortable in my own skin. I had moved to Colorado, got a house, and lived with her at the time. She was in my life every day and I would hear these theories and villainous explanations directed at anyone who “wronged” her. It was hard to avoid, let alone not fall for them. I believed it was my responsibility to protect my friend from something that, in my view, was clearly hurting her, something that I felt was eating at her and making her daily life worse. Things which in hindsight, could have been solved with a conversation she was unwilling to have. Instead the conspiring, backstabbing, and rumor machine were put into full swing. I, much as wonder and Salty, were forced by Blair to choose between her or Click and OT. Of course I chose the person I lived with. What was I going to do? Move again? I mean I could have.. Once I chose my side, I was met with praise and adoration from her and her modstaff. It, at the time, felt like I was making the right decision. Fuck man. Boy was I wrong. I’ve lost so many friends, isolated myself, been at her side despite feeling like my connections to the world were being severed. I always acted as her talking piece, from yelling at One Topic, to berating click, and other things I did in service of someone who at the time, I believed every word of. I trusted Blair to hell and back and thought I was doing good. I have learned since then, through both self reflection and conversations with old friends, just how much I was (unintentionally, hopefully) used. 

There, of course, is more. Much more. More than I could ever hope to cram into this stupid fucking twitter thread that I know I’m going to get angry DMs and phone calls over. 

Blair. I need you to know that YOU hurt me. More than you realize. I know you’re scanning this and having your team read over it. Maybe even looking at sending me a legal threat as you parade around to do so. But I want you to apologize for once in your life and take accountability. Please. Blair, you would rather paint the world red than admit you have fault. 

[catmomjudy]

(Gifs: @neverevan; @evanbuckleydaily; @mymycorrhizae)

The first 9-1-1 fanfic that I read was by one of my favorite authors who decided to dabble in something new:

So Far Series by Jilly James

That was in June 2021.

I read a lot of 9-1-1 fic that summer, but I didn’t actually watch the show until much, much later. In fact, I finally finished it in January 2023 (I stopped after the tsunami on my first go because I had lawsuit nightmares from reading fic). I did manage to see most of the above scenes in YouTube videos and such as I came across them in stories, but I was always struck by one fact:

MOST OF THE MOST GUSHY BUDDIE DIALOG IN FANFICS WAS STRAIGHT FROM THE DAMN SCRIPT!!

Maybe it was because I was looking for it, but really, how can anyone watch this show and not see this gushy romantic shit?

🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒❤️🚒

[nervousladytraveler]

2023 AO3 Fic Review/Wrap-Up

Thank you to the lovely @dreamstone28737 for the tag! 😘 I took a long time to respond--sorry!

I didn't really write too many different works this year so I refer to the same titles a few times in my responses below. That said, I did write (or at least post) 307,626 words–not too shabby!

List of Fics Completed This Year

One-Shots: I don’t tend to write too many little fics. But this year I did “The Shift” and “A Brilliant Choice”. Most of my one shots tend to come from prompts (and @veryflowerobservation always sends me good ones). I have another wee fic (“A Question of Trust”) that is a Grace Poldark/Tom Jones crossover story that is completed, but not yet posted. I need to finish reading the novel Tom Jones before I do just to make sure I got it right.

Multi-Chap: Like Someone Who Would Know Her Own Mind and A Rose in December

Series: A Rose in December is now part of a Like Someone Sequels series?

Your Personal Fave

A Rose in December because it just was so enjoyable to write.

Your Fave Scene

My favorite scene ? Hard to choose but maybe a few from A Rose in December. I really enjoyed writing the conversation between Ross and Demelza when they first meet over coffee (Ch 4 “Tiramisu” and Ch 6 “Two of Cups”). My second favorite is the end when they are on the phone with Prudie (especially the bawdy jokes she and her cousin make) in Ch 32 “Candle Dance.” But in truth, I only finished/edited/posted those scenes this year--and really first wrote them a while ago. Does that still count?

A Fic or Scene that Challenged You

Any scene that has characters under emotional duress is always hard for me. I really internalize their feelings and have a hard time shaking them off. There are a few chapters in A Rose in December that show a relationship unravelling. Those were tough and tricky to get right. But also scenes where a lot of plot is covered–those are difficult too! There are a few chapters in Duty that are like that.

A Line of Writing You’re Proud Of

I try not to get too attached to any one line of writing. I am partial to dialogue–the back and forth is fun–but don't have any particular favorite.

A Comment That Touched You

Whenever a reader tells me that something I wrote gave them comfort during a rough spell or that they reread for the same reason, those comments always really move me. Of course I wish no one ever had the need for it, but I'm glad I could somehow help.

Something That Inspired Your Writing

One afternoon last spring while travelling, I slipped into a church in Germany. It was just me and the organist and it was so lovely. That inspired a scene in Ch 41 (“For the Sake of My Tears”) of Duty when Demelza hears the organist practicing in the Truro Cathedral.

Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I think the fact that I finished Like Someone (in January of 2023) after so many years of working on it was a massive accomplishment. I do recall feeling a sense of satisfaction that buoyed me for weeks. But then finally finishing A Rose in December (in December 2023) was also profoundly gratifying, so they make nice bookends to the year!

Do You Have Any Writing Goals for Next Year?

I want to try to recreate the joy I found when I stopped working on anything else and immersed myself in finishing A Rose in December. I allowed myself to only focus on that story and was able to design an intentional structure for it--and not get distracted by posting along the way. 

Tagging any and all of my writing my pals — but no pressure! ❤️

P. S. This also came with a stats sheet.  I chose not to do one because it seemed like it would take me further from my goal to focus and enjoy the process of writing more but feel free to make it part of the challenge or not! The template is from dreputationera!

[lambergeier]

2022 book post FINALLY

this post is six weeks late because, frankly, i was on my honeymoon over new years and its hard to get up the will to type all this shit when everyone has already posted their book lists ages ago!! but also i read a lot of good books last year and wish to gloat, so here we are. italics are rereads, bold are my favorites, asterisks denote not-prose, and reviews are interspersed throughout as i felt like it:

January

No One is Talking About This - Patricia Lockwood (this book made me cry so hard lmao. first part is a sickeningly true-to-life depiction of Being A Blue Check Person and then the second part makes you cry so bad.)

Sorrowland - Rivers Solomon (what the fuck happened to the last third of this book? what shit-ass x-men knock-off did it come from?)

What Soldiers Do: Sex and the American GI in World War II France - Mary Louise Roberts (got on a whole ww2 history kick because, gotta be real, i watched all of band of brothers during winter break 2021-2022 and developed a bug up my ass. pulled this off the shelf at the library on a whim and it was STUNNING. excellently, thoroughly told history of sex, venereal disease, and race among american GIs in normany following the invasion. would read anything roberts now.)

How to Blow Up a Pipeline - Andreas Malm

Hello, Sailor: The hidden history of gay life at sea - Paul Baker and Jo Stanley

Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War II - Allan Berube (another excellent ww2 book, frequently quoted on this site and for good reason. not written by a historian, so incredibly easy and engaging to read, that presents you with just this amazing overview of how modern american queer identity was totally, inextricably shaped by the us military and the experience of being part of it or even just near it lmao)

February

Possession - A.S. Byatt (really really lovely romance that was such a consistent pleasure to read that i got to the end basically unable to remember favorite lines or even scenes i was just like mmmmmmmm. book good.)

Uncanny Valley - Anna Wiener

Howl’s Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones

The Verge: Reformation, Renaissance, and Forty Years that Shook the World - Patrick Wyman (this book sucked ass we gotta stop giving podcasters history books)

Watership Down - Richard Adams (so fucked up. loved this. love that we give this to children to read.)

Dead Collections - Isaac Fellman

March

The Hidden Palace - Helene Wecker (much better than its prequel, imho! resolved many pacing issues but lost no heart!)

The Vanishing Half - Britt Bennet (part of the reason i managed to read so much this year is that i had to drive a lot for work and started putting audiobooks on in the car, having never been an audiobook person before. i listened almost entirely to contemporary litfic this way, a genre i also had not previously engage with, and this was both a fascinating entry into an entire other world of books and also kinda boring sometimes lmao. vanishing half was good, certainly better than some of the other stuff i ended up listening to, but still not something i would have finished if i weren't in the car)

The Reformation - Patrick Collinson (this bitch was so funny his preface to the book was 'i didn't list any sources because i've been teaching this topic for 60 years. the source is Me.' anyways almost totally unreadable but did provide me some good context on the counter-reformation, which i want to learn more about.)

Fleischman is in Trouble - Taffy Brodesser-Akner

Home Baked - Alia Volz (soooooo good all bay area homies please read this)

River of Stars - Vanessa Hua

April

Light from Uncommon Stars - Ryka Aoki (INSANE BOOK. SO FUN.)

*Death of a Salesman - Arthur Miller

Book of Dust - Phillip Pullman

Gold Diggers - Sanjena Sathian

*Angels in America - Tony Kushner (disconnected me from reality for like 24 straight hours. scared to reread it.)

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (read this in high school and hated it because i was a DUMB TEENAGER!! THIS BOOK IS SO FUNNY!!)

Good Omens - Terry Pratchett

Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett

May

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia (strongly eh.)

Oh the Glory of it All - Sean Wilsey (loved it but feels impossible to recommend.)

Magic for Liars - Sarah Gailey

Foundation - Isaac Asimov (absolutely fascinating as like, a history of the genre thing, even if i only "enjoyed" reading the first two or three stories lol. also, HE COULDN'T PREDICT FIAT CURRENCY?? ACTUAL PLOT POINT THAT THERE AREN'T ENOUGH METALS ON THE PLANET TO MINT COINS???? reader i lost my mind.)

June

All the Pretty Horses - Cormac McCarthy (all the pretty horses my insane high school problematic fave. i will never read the sequels)

Have His Carcase - Dorothy L. Sayers

The Power - Naomi Alderman (as i said on private twitter after rereading, this book makes me sick to my stomach not because of the gender shit, which is like, i know what the book's about that's what it's about it's not gonna be a different book, but christ it's so bleak. love an oral history style but i gave my copy away once i finished lmao.)

Murder Must Advertise - Dorothy L. Sayers

July

Such a Fun Age - Kiley Reid (great audiobook narrator, and a very funny book)

Several People are Typing - Calvin Kasulke (PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS AUDIOBOOK THEY HIRED A FULL RADIO-PLAY STYLE CAST AND SURE THE ACTUAL STORY DOESN'T STICK THE LANDING BUT IT'S SO FUNNY. i finished it on my own and immediately put it back on for emma to enjoy. so good.)

They Were Her Property: White Women as Slave Owners in the American South - Stephanie Jones-Rogers

Hawk Mountain - Conner Habib (oughhhhouguhughuhghh the dread. great book. wretched creeping horror. queer, if that matters. gives you the Dread.)

There, There - Tommy Orange

August

If an Egyptian Can’t Speak English - Noor Naga (experimental fiction, i listened to it on audiobook and actually missed a lot of what it was doing in print but still incredibly good. absolute sucker punch of an ending.)

The Loneliest Americans - Jay Caspian King

Encounters at the Heart of the World: A History of the Mandan People - Elizabeth Fenn (great clear thorough history of the mandan nation of the upper missouri river, really enjoyed this.)

An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us - Ed Yong (ed yong is the best science writer working today and this book was tremendous. i quoted like every other line of it to emma and she still went and borrowed it as soon as i was done. we immediately bought a copy for the house.)

Sheer Misery: Soldiers in Battle in WWII - Mary Louise Roberts

September

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse (damn so much modern sff is bad)

I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life - Ed Yong (not as good as the animal book but still VERY good)

Dark Rise - C.S. Pacat (unfuckingreadable. a masterclass of incoherent bullshit)

Nona the Ninth - taz lol (this should not have been its own book.)

*Ducks - Kate Beaton (cannot recommend highly enough. intense subject matter, also made me cry many times, but holy shit ms beaton you killed it with this one)

Unreleased Friend Book that I Love So Bad (soon!!)

Normal People - Sally Rooney

October

Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (another book i haven't reread since high school holden ilu. you are my little problems boy)

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee (read it all in one day while on various airplanes. what a BOOK)

Half of a Yellow Sun - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Foundation - Mercedes Lackey (thus begins the valdemar stage of the year)

My Year of Rest and Relaxation - Ottessa Moshfegh (uh. would not recommend.)

November

Devil House - John Darnielle (ur crazy for this one mr mountain goats. still don't know if it was good or bad lol.)

Arrows of the Queen - Mercedes Lackey

Arrows Flight - Mercedes Lackey

Arrows Fall - Mercedes Lackey

Magic’s Pawn - Mercedes Lackey (vanyel i love you)

December

Magic’s Promise - Mercedes Lackey (vanyel i'm obsessed with you)

Empire of Wild - Cherie Dimaline

Magic’s Price - Mercedes Lackey (oh misty we did NOT stick the landing here. rip to vanyel.)

Winter Counts - David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Neuromancer - William Gibson (loved so many individual sentences and, like foundation, a very interesting work for understanding the history of the genre. however in many ways, totally incomprehensible.)

total books: 66!!! nice work, me! really enjoyed how much i read in 2022 and how generally varied it was and after a long while of not reading too much at all, it's been very nice being back in the swing of it. also god non-fiction is so good. i can't read it particularly fast but every time i read a good one i enjoy it so immensely. look forward to reading more of it this year!!!

AND, FINALLY, A SHOUT OUT TO THE WORST DNF OF 2022:

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab sucks shit.

[drowsy-fantasy]

Drowsyfantasy’s Year In Review: Writing

Warning - all stories are NSFT unless otherwise indicated!

Starting the year off strong (only the bravest need apply), we have Ovamancy, a kink prompt by our beloved egg mutual, @thalwhore- with our gratitude - published in January. 

February brings A Cure for Nightmares, a gift fic with the Hero of Kvatch bringing a little comfort to Martin Septim. Yes, I do manage to get the name of the game into the body of the text. 

You can clearly see my March obsession with Vannimarco, with several fics being published in quick succession. Despite it being one of my only non-explicit fics, I really feel like Distraction is my favourite. @caliblorn is fully to blame. 

April brought the stand-alone Beach Episode of an ongoing story published on either side of it. Because every story needs a beach episode. Especially one with multiple possible gender options. 

Spring brings crack fic, and this May was no different. Narsis Dren and the Virile Vestige doesn’t have a lot of hits, but it brings a lot of laughs. 

This Is A Story I Once Heard didn’t begin publishing in June, but the latest chapter was published then (and I really have to go back and finish it, since I have the rest of the story already mapped out…) 

With a now-infamous post about swapped-roles AU of Mannimarco and Vanus as its inspiration, A Crownless King was published in July. Thanks, @mannimarcoiscool!

August was a busy month, with not only Elder Scrolls fic, but the first forays into Baldur’s Gate 3 with an alternate scene of the wildly popular Dark Urge character, Dirge. 

What followed in September was nothing short of an obsession. Several more BG3 fics in a wide variety of prompts, the most popular - and strangest - serving to be Acts of Worship, involving the player-character Tav and a 9-foot tall spider. If you know, you know.

October was the final month for publishing in 2023 (barring a sudden desperate need to write in the next week) with the surprise hit Something Close to Steel, starring fan-favourite character Dammon opposite the reader (Tav once more). This one I am DEFINITELY finishing soon - I swear!

Edit: As a bonus series, I'd like to recommend the work @orfeoarte and I did together on TES Summerfest 23. We worked really hard on these, and each chapter has fantastic art he drew and posted on his tumblr!

Some neat statistics, all added in 2023: 

84 subscriptions 

42,377 words

12,580 hits

180 bookmarks

37 comment threads

1,015 kudos

77 user subscriptions 

Thank you all for a thoroughly awesome 2023 and I’ll see you next year!