#it's more like a au written as a love letter time skip fix-it fic by a fan of the original

[jamiebluewind]

Oh no... new bainrot dropped

The character designers cooked 😖💜✨

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[birdsong-18]

aight here it is lol. hand-picked from the mess of my one note in my notes app: the fic rec list. these are some of my favorite fics, all of which i would and have re-read multiple times.

✅ - finished

⬜️ - unfinished

🌟- i would literally recommend this fic to someone outside of the fandom

———————————————————————

🌟✅passerine: if you haven’t read this fic yet, what are you doing? the behemoth, legendary. this fic punched me in the face and then made me cry. the first fanfic i’ve ever read that i’ve genuinely want a physical copy of. this deserves to be one of the top fanfics on ao3. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755084/chapters/70509990

🌟✅Tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains: i sob at this fic. it’s so cute with found family and super-powers. characterization is on point. one fic i couldn’t put down (i read all 180k+ words in one day)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33489424/chapters/83200717

✅The Multiplayers: yah like fluff? yah like secret identities? yah like lovejoy? this is about tommy, tubbo, and ranboo forming a secret band and it is *chefs kiss*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956665/chapters/73741350

⬜️i was a kid in the village doing all right, then i became a prince overnight: fluff and found family, what more could you ask for? tommy is adopted by king phil. this one made me squeal in my seat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045056/chapters/68705025

✅Fields of Flowers: mutual areus girlbossed this into existence and i love it. michael my beloved and also the right amount of angst. so good.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31704555/chapters/78467777

🌟✅catalyst: really well written harry potter au that centers around dnf with really good themes. on the list of “fanfictions which state the theme of harry potter better than the actual book did” (fuck you jk r*wling)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31479515/chapters/77868011

🌟⬜️Like Magic: The best and most impactful harry potter au fanfiction i’ve ever read. it goes into so many themes, and is honestly the perfect sequel to the actual harry potter books. and it’s about fucking minecraft youtubers. it explores the social aftermath of the battle of hogwarts. please read this fanfiction it is actually so good, this and catalyst both deserve the full love of everyone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004996/chapters/65921473

✅Crown of Straw, Sword of Gold: holy shit this fic broke me the first time i read it. it’s both sbi family and dnf, royalty au, there’s war and self discovery, and it’s so good read it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240389/chapters/69202374

🌟✅ for you, the stars: another one on the list of best-fics-i’ve-ever-read list. i stayed up so late reading this and i about sobbed it was so good. it’s an au based off of The Martian but you don’t need to read or watch The Martian to understand it. it’s dnf and sbi family and there’s the whole cast and crew of dream smp thrown in there very well. niki and technoblade my beloved in this fic (as well as the rest of the crew)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982345/chapters/73814076

🌟✅And like the cycle of the year, we begin again: out of mcyt territory here, welcome to the merlin fic that i can never get out of my head. warning: there is some smut (but there’s no plot in the smut so i literally just skip those parts)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092269/chapters/13964185

✅Monsters vs. Aliens: you know that one lilo and stitch meets boo from monsters inc text post? yeah here yah go!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141269

🌟✅do it all over again: hoooly shit. this fic series also enters the “could replace canonical harry potter story” list. i don’t even ship drarry, but this makes me ship drarry. draco malfoy goes back in time (transported into his 11 year old body) and has a chance to fix everything that went wrong in his life, but he doesn’t remember what happened in the first place except for a letter he wrote himself that says “befriend harry potter”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480304/chapters/28407540

[the-dragongirl]

Hello tumblr. I have returned from a long period of inactivity, because I must bring the good word to the corner of the Star Wars fandom that used to be my main fannish home: there is a new era of Star Wars canon that was made just for our taste. It is called the High Republic.

WHAT IS THE HIGH REPUBLIC?

The High Republic is an giant multi-media project being carried out by the Lucasfilm story group to create a brand new era of Star Wars canon. It is set a few hundred years before the prequel era (so, a long time after the Old Republic era), in a period of peace and stability within the Republic. It currently includes several English language adult novels, a YA novel, two serialized comics, a manga, some short stories, and some short video blurbs published on facebook and youtube. A TV show for Disney+ has also been announced, but is a few years off. This project is unique in Star Wars, in that all of the different parts are being written together by one writing team, and are coordinated to tell a cohesive story. Also, what has been announced is just the beginning – they have stated that there will be three different sections of the High Republic, and everything we have had announced so far is just part one. As a note: this is an era for which there was NO pre-existing canon in Legends, so it is totally new territory.

OKAY, THAT’S NICE, BUT WHY SHOULD I BOTHER TO CHECK IT OUT?

There are SO many reasons why the High Republic is worth your time to explore. I will try to outline some of them here below the cut (without any significant spoilers).

IT IS A LOVE LETTER TO THE JEDI

This is the era for everyone who loves the Jedi and wants to understand how they got to the point they did in the prequel era. It shows Jedi at their best: saving people, working together, being completely in tune with the Force (in so many beautiful and original ways), demonstrating creativity and flexibility and being rewarded for it, actually thinking through the ethics of things like the mind trick, and DEALING with their emotions rather than repressing them. It shows us how the rigid Jedi culture was saw in the prequels was a corruption of something that was originally healthy and uplifting. Jedi in this era are allowed to be flawed, and to grow, and have a community that supports them in doing so. This is the Jedi culture so many of us created as fix it fic for the prequel era, but made canon.

IT IS AN ERA OF HOPE

There are some serious problems in the High Republic Era. Without spoilers, the era opens with a terrible humanitarian crisis, laid over the Republic equivalent of the New Deal from US history.  We see a lot of examples of people doing their best to be good to each other, and working for a more just and kind galaxy. They acknowledge that things are not perfect, but people from many different backgrounds (Jedi, politicians, farmers, pilots, business people) work together to try and make things better. I don’t know about you all, but with the darkness we see in the world today, I NEED some of that optimism in my escapist media. The High Republic provides that.

IT WILL GIVE YOU FEELINGS

The existing material so far is structured to really let you emotionally invest in the characters and their struggles. Unlike with many eras of Star Wars canon, characterization is not sacrificed for the sake of plot (though never fear, there is PLENTY of plot). That means there is huge scope for empathy. I’m not going to lie; I cried within the first three chapters of Light of the Jedi, as did several other people I know. It is POIGNANT in a way that feels truly genuine.

IT IS FUN

The writing team understands that, in the end, Star Wars is space fantasy. If your space fantasy is nothing but serious, gritty grimdark, it becomes pretentious and unbearable. So, for all that there is some heavy content in the High Republic (VERY heavy content – the Nihil should really have their own content warning), it has many moments of levity that keep it from taking itself too seriously. For example, the High Republic made Jedi bodice rippers canon. Also, characters like Geode exist (yes, that rock there is a CHARACTER). The result is something which honors the spirit of Star Wars, and keeps you engaged without being tedious or ridiculously depressing.

THE WRITING TEAM HAS DIVERSE PERSPECTIVES

The main writing team consists of five people: Justina Ireland, Claudia Gray, Charles Soule, Daniel José Older, and Cavan Scott. You will note that includes two people of color, two women, and one out Queer person (in fact, one of the writers is all three of those things). This is a far cry from the white-cis-straight-man-dominated writing teams we have seen in the past. And when they bring in other people to the project, they make a point of looking for perspectives that aren’t represented on their team – for example, the manga is being co-written between Justina Ireland and Japanese writer Shima Shinya, and Ireland has stated in interviews that Shinya is taking the lead on the writing.

IT VALUES MEANINGFUL REPRESENTATION

That diverse writing team means a cast that looks WAY more like the real world than any other era of Star Wars we’ve seen, in terms of representation. There are multiple characters of color, who are both heroes and central to the story. There are at least five canonical queer characters to date (a MLM couple, an Ace character, and two NB character).  [EDIT: Thank you @legok9​ for letting me know about the NB characters]. Among binary gendered characters, there is a very even balance of men and women. The writing team has also stated that they will be incorporating more representation of disability in the works to come. And the story is so much better for it – representation is included here BECAUSE it makes for more creative, believable, and original storytelling.

IT IS ACCESSIBLE

Because of the multiple formats, and the fact that it doesn’t rely on you knowing any prior lore, the High Republic offers many avenues to engage for people with all kinds of needs. Know nothing about Star Wars canon and feel intimidated about catching up? The canon is all new in this era anyway, so you’re fine. Can’t handle flashing lights? No problem – the little bit of video content that exists is totally free from the strobing effects that caused seizure and sensory issues. Need purely audio content? You can still have a full experience of the High Republic with the gorgeously sound-scaped audiobooks. Don’t have the attention span for books or long movies? Then the comics are your friend.

THERE IS SOMETHING FOR ALL

Between the books aimed towards adults and teens (and their respective audiobooks), the kids books, the comics, the manga, the short stories, AND the eventual TV show on Disney+, there is going to be content in the High Republic that suits most audiences. And that is just what has been announced so far – there is still more to come for phases II and III. This isn’t Star Wars written towards one group or demographic – it is Star Wars for everyone.

DID I MENTION THE FANCY JEDI UNIFORMS?

Because cosplayers and fanartists? This is the era for you. We are getting Jedi in silks with elaborate gold embroidery. Jedi with jewelry other decorative elements. Even the practical field uniforms have tooled and embossed leather. If you want to draw or make Jedi that have some of that that sweet LoTR-esque high fantasy aesthetic, the High Republic has your back. (Not going to lie – I am ALREADY imagining the time travel AUs. Put Obi-Wan in fancy clothes!)

OKAY, YOU’VE SOLD ME. WHERE SHOULD I START?

I strongly recommend everyone looking to get into the High Republic (who is old enough to be on Tumblr) start with Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule. I alternated between the physical book and the audio book, and found it delightful in both formats. After that, you have a lot of options. You can read or listen to the audio book of the YA novel A Test of Courage by Justina Ireland. You can check out the currently running Star Wars: The High Republic comic from Marvel, or the Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures comic from IDW. Or you can skip straight to Into the Dark by Claudia Gray. Honestly, there is no wrong order to try out most of the High Republic.

IN CONLUSION

The High Republic is Star Wars written for people who DON’T want Star Wars to be a good ‘ol boys club for salty white dudes who don’t want to see anything but more of Luke Skywalker. It offers broad representation, and optimistic narrative, and whole bunch of awesome Jedi content. If you are someone who fell in love with Jedi in the prequel era, the High Republic will give you more of what you loved. And if you are totally new to Star Wars? The High Republic is here for you too.

So, go check it. And then go write fic for it (please, there are only, like, 14 fics on AO3, I am dying).

[oliviaillustrations]

Garden of Eden

my piece for the @grishaversebigbang ! this is based off of the lovely dark academia ninej au fic written by @kugisakigf and @emdrabbles titled Garden of Eden

you can find my gang members and their amazing pieces below! 💗

Materialki: @landryaugust (here and here) @oranges-and-stuff (here)

AO3 Link: here!

Summary:

Nina is doing just fine as a directionless art student—she goes to class four times a week, struggles to get oil paint out of her clothes on laundry day, makes sure to dodge her landlord when he asks about rent, and dreads the day she has to graduate. Maybe she feels as important to the grand scheme of things as a stray brushstroke, and she's no closer to any shred of a clue about what she's going to do with her life. But it's fine. She's fine.

Except when Nina’s painting class gets a live model, she spends more time staring at this very pretty, very intimidating newcomer more than she does at her own canvas. Inej is gorgeous and terrifying and has her life together and now Nina can’t remember the last time she was able to think about anything but her. Pressure starts to ramp up and the world she's tried so hard to hide herself from keeps pounding at every wall she's built to protect herself, and now she's left wondering if she'll ever amount to anything. Will history forget Nina Zenik? Will she ever do something worthwhile with what little she's been given? And does it even matter, when Inej Ghafa seems to draw her ever closer, an Icarus to her blazing sun?

First Chapter: Nina Zenik is crumpled in a mass of blankets, shivering and bone-tired, when she realizes that sometimes, living in the attic of a church is worth it. She can deal with the rotting wood that creaks and rolls under her feet, the sounds splintering out across the room as she walks. She can forgive the smell of must and cobwebs, the heavy fragrance of mold and must and incense lingering around every corner, even on the rare occasions when she has time to clean. She can almost ignore the deep ache of wintertime, the heat barely making its way to her with long, spiraling fingers, the cold permeating through every crack in the walls that let in the sharp December chill. She's made her peace with the occasional mouse that sprints underfoot, the moths spending weeks on the windowsill, the shitty water pressure and gas stove that only works once a week if she was lucky.

Because mornings like this seemed to make everything worth it.

The rising sun, shallow and shy in the pale morning light, would reach out and glance off of an ancient stained glass window, just at her bedside. The sky would sing, and the carefully laid image of The Virgin Mary would glow, sweet features framed in green and violet. Nina would wake to vibrant shadows dancing across her skin and colors pooling on her floor like spilled blood. Sometimes, she would just sit there, hours before classes would start. The world faded to a hazy gray, and all that was left was the sunrise and her. She'd just look at the sun, and she'd pause for a moment, and just breathe . It never quite felt like she could get a full breath of air anymore. She would just take a breath, and she'd stop thinking, and she'd just be . She wasn't Nina Zenik, right now. She was sunlight and morning air and that particular shade of crimson shot through with gold when the light shines in.

She blinks, and the sun has moved. She's washed in pitch again, deep blue drowning the lines and arches of her body into a loose silhouette. She's empty, again, just a fragile body in a silent room. The floor dips and bends beneath her feet as if to sing a hollow tune in some form of an answer. It does not feel like enough. It never does.

She wipes a smudge of dust off the windows, her finger stained red even in the fading light. Her heart beats in concert with the pulsing of her head, and she winces, hard. Lack of sleep is catching up to her, it seems. The last few nights—weeks, if she's being true—have been short and restless, a sick sort of fear settling in whenever her eyes begin to close. It burns like every word she's never said and it spoils like a promise in her stomach. Everything is too much, and it's all she can do to stand on two feet and will her fingers to curl around a pencil. And even that's a pretense.

She hasn't been able to paint in months. Everything she makes seems twisted and wrong , an abomination of oil paints and a mockery of everything she's worked to accomplish. (She buries the voice that says she hasn't truly accomplished anything deep in her chest and tries to forget it can still breathe). She's felt stuck, a broken record that keeps skipping the same line of a song she's heard a hundred times. She can feel everything falling away from her, but doesn't know how to hold on to it all. She's losing it all with nothing she can do to stop it.

Nina doesn't have time for this- this crisis , something hisses in her ear, teeth grazing against her neck. But the problem is, she never has time for any of this. It all keeps piling up and then she’s buried under the weight of it and then she's having a panic attack in a public restroom and turning in late assignments and making excuses and she can’t do that . She can't do that again. So she compartmentalizes, picks out tiny little problems, and thinks about them for a short while, washes it down with wine, and calls it a night. Everything she doesn't deal with disappears in the morning. And she likes it that way.

But morning has come, and she still feels like a goddamn inside-out sock and she doesn't know what to do about it. Nina has been floundering for years, though, so this isn't any different than anything else.

Her phone flickers and the curling numbers read 7:49. Shit. She has a nine a.m. class and she's still in bed. Normally, she'd get to rot into her pillows for another hour at least, but she needed it for her major, and by the time she'd finally finished agonizing over which courses to take, it had been the only time slot open. So, here she is, aching limbs and sunburnt eyes, stepping onto the cold embrace of hardwood floors. She shivers, and the weak threads of sunlight that weave through the windows don't make the room any warmer.

The shower isn't warm, either. She bears the wet chill anyway. The water is soothing and it washes away the dregs of sleeplessness from her eyes. She stands under the spray, lets it drip down her back, and feels something like comfort as the soap slips down around her ankles and the room begins to smell like lavender. She waits for the water to finally run low, and steps out, puddles tracing her footsteps as she makes her way to her dresser.

Her hair lies damp on her shoulders, thick strands tangled and dark against her skin. It started curling, lately, and she's not sure why, but she doesn't quite mind. Sometimes, she closes her eyes, and imagines vines and leaves woven through the loose curls. A vision of Dionysus with dirt-stained fingers and violet stains under her eyes. A fairy twined with sumac and oak, wings that glow gold in the sunlight. She's always wanted to be special. She's always wished to be more than she is. But now, her own haggard reflection is what stares back at her. She's not sure if she likes what she sees.

She's not sure that it matters.

Nina gets dressed, rifling through her closet in search of something warm. It’s not like she’s obsessed with how she looks, but she does try and pick something nice. Today, she settles on a pink sweater patterned with strawberries, and earrings to match. (She’s nothing if not consistent.) It’s soft and thick, and it smells like summertime. It’s perfect for this, the kind of day that soaks through your skin and wears away at your bones. She slips into thick boots and a pair of jeans, and she's gone.

She takes the spiral staircase outside of her apartment one creaking step at a time, counting as she goes. One, two, three, four, avoid the loose nail on five, six, seven, eight. She should get that fixed, she thinks. But that would require seeing the landlord. And no one wants to see the landlord. The thought whispers away as fast as it came.

The staircase spits her out in the church vestibule. It’s all dark wood and low ceilings, pale morning light filtering through the narrow windows. Soft music floats through the heavy doors separating Nina from the nave of the church, and if she listens closely, faint chanting is woven between the notes. The song sounds familiar. She’s unsure if it’s a psalm drilled into her from middle school bible camp or because the organ drums the same tune beneath her floor every day.

Nina stands a moment longer, eyes momentarily fluttering closed as she listens, grasped by an unnamable sensation equal parts reassuring and paralyzing. And then she’s out the door, down the marble steps, and on the street.

The cold air stings her cheeks and her shoulders wince against the wind. She really should've grabbed a coat before she left, but it's fine. She still hasn't eaten, and she has a class in half an hour. If she turns back now she'll be late. So, Nina grits her teeth, ignoring how hard they're rattling against each other, and tugs the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. The coffee shop’s only a five-minute walk, and it'll be warm inside, and that's the only thing that keeps her moving forward. Her feet beat on the concrete with a steady rhythm, and she focuses on that instead of the aching cold.

The awning of the Dregs greets her, bold block letters on top of old red brick. Scuttling through the door, she’s welcomed by a gust of warm air. The barista looks up at the gentle tingle of the bell and flashes her a quick smile before resuming their work. They don’t look familiar. Must be a new hire. It feels like every time she gets comfortable around here, something changes. The world rolls and ripples under her feet, and she doesn’t remember the last time she’s caught her balance.

Nina takes a deep breath and rubs her hands together, which are now bright pink, then places them on the tips of her ears, which are also bright pink. The morning is quiet, with only a scattering of patrons to be found in the mixed-matched chairs. Some of the dark red wallpaper is beginning to peel off the plaster behind the counter. The Dregs she knows and loves.

“Good morning.” Behind the counter stands the barista, hands fidgeting with a dishtowel.

Nina blinks. “Mornin’,” she croaks, voice weak. She takes a look at the drink menu, even though she’s been here every morning since freshman orientation, because she needs to look busy and not as if she’s more burnt out than a pile of ash. Thankfully, the barista notices her quiet plea and doesn’t try to strike up any more conversation.

A few beats of silence pass, only interrupted by the occasional clink of coffee mugs. Despite already knowing what she’s going to order--the same damn caramel macchiato with far too much sugar than she should start her day with because why would she ever change the habits that hurt her the most--Nina stares at the menu overhead. Her eyes slowly unfocus, not actually reading the menu so much as wondering if she should even try to, so she doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the barista clears their throat with a little more vigor than necessary.

“So…” they start, rocking on the balls of their feet and making a point to not look directly at Nina. “Can I get you started or…?”

She snaps her head back down. “Oh, shit - sorry, yeah.” She allows herself one more moment to reconsider, then orders the caramel macchiato, but not before fumbling with her change. A cascade of pennies and nickels and dimes all crash to the floor and all noise in the cafe ceases at once. Nina doesn’t need to turn around to know how many pairs of eyes rest on her.

“I’ll, uh - get that for you right away.” The barista couldn’t have shuffled away any faster, disappearing into the back.

Nina swears once, loud, then stoops down and collects her change. Fucking figures. This morning has felt awfully representative of life in recent years - bitter, shitty, reliant on loose change. Yet her pride, or perhaps self pity, leaves her stagnant, unable to change. She refuses to get her hopes up about the coffee. With her luck it’ll be bitter and shitty, too.

The barista comes out soon after, coffee in one hand and muffin in the other. They set both on the counter and offer Nina a meek look. “Muffin’s on the house.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she says, scooping both into her hands. And she means it.

“Of course,” they say. Then they lean over the counter and point across the cafe. “And, uh - the drinks in the case over there, the orange ones. Yeah, those. They’re good for hangovers.”

Nina looks from the barista, to the case, then back to the barista. So that’s what this is. She scrunches her face into a weak smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace, and takes her drink without another word. Of course they think she’s hungover, because who would have such a shitty morning if they were sober? That thought is chased with a wave of guilt, heavy. They were being nice. Why can’t she just say thank you and move on? She pushes the door open and the bone chilling day greets her with a sting of cold that bites at her cheeks, her nose, ready to greet her next misfortune.

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 4

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1841 a/n: alright, getting into some of the meat of the story! this one is longer and the original chapter 4 was so long I broke it up so now there is a planned nine chapters for this fic. chapter 5 is written and will be queued up for sunday’s post, but as my parents are visiting, chapter 6 might be delayed. I’ll try my best not to but no promises. a huge thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for the beta!

what if masterlist

The next day, there’s less tension between you and Aaron. He’s more amenable to talking to you and even smiles at you in the rearview mirror of the car. There’s a smile on your face as you write in your notebook, keeping track of the Carolyn’s you visit and adding to your story. The radio’s on and once Dave had found a station he liked, he forbade Aaron from changing it. Not that he’s listening to the music. He talks over the music, filling the car with stories from his summer spent with Carolyn, the afternoons they spent together in the fields and the nights spent walking through the trees in the moonlight.

You smile wistfully as you listen to the adventures - and troubles - Dave and Carolyn had gotten into. Aaron even quirks his lips in a ghost of a smile. It’s a small thing, something you would have missed a few days ago but now find yourself noticing it. Even catching his eyes a few times in the rearview mirror.

So far, the Carolyn’s are proving to be a bust, no one Dave recognizes. The map you’d marked up with all their locations is spread out on the hood of the car and you and Aaron are leaning over it, trying to agree on where to go next.

“That one’s isolated! If we go there, we’re done for the day,” you argue.

“Exactly. One more for the day and then back to the hotel,” Aaron says, crossing his arms over his chest. You shake your head at him, trying to avoid looking at his forearms. The bands of muscles spanning his forearms are flexed and on display in his polo shirt, they keep catching your eye and you just turn back to the map.

“It’s early afternoon. We cannot just visit one more Carolyn, even with driving time that’s leaving too much on the table.”

“We’ll get those two tomorrow morning, they head out towards some of the others,” Aaron points out. You scrunch your eyebrows, bending closer to the map.

Shit, he’s right. You sigh and stand up. “Fine, we’ll do one more today.” Aaron just quirks his lips into one of his smiles,  and you huff out a breath and fold up the map. Dave chuckles as he watches the two of you, Aaron smirking as he puts his sunglasses back on and you grumbling.

Choosing to visit only one more Carolyn Bartolini turns out to be a smart idea for many reasons. The one on the way back to Siena takes a bit to find. Since it turns out to not be a simple house, but a whole estate. There’s a winding drive to the large house that is surrounded by land, hosting gardens and crops.

“Look at that, Dave,” Aaron says, looking around as he drives down towards the house, “you may have gone from a girl who worked in the fields to a woman who owns them. And you got to skip all the messy bits in the middle.”

“Life is the messy bits,” Dave scoffs, hitting Aaron on the shoulder. Aaron clears his throat, looking a little sheepish and you smile softly, silently agreeing with Dave. The messy bits, the adventures, they made life interesting. You look out the window, heart squeezing with the missing presence of your partner.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as the car turns off, shaking your head and taking a steadying breath. You and Aaron trail behind Dave, letting him do the talking. The person who answers the door beckons the three of you inside, leading you towards the garden and Carolyn. The garden is lush and gorgeous, filled with flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. You walk along the hedges, letting Dave and Carolyn talk. You can overhear their conversation, talking about that summer Dave spent in Italy and Carolyn answering his questions, but you can tell that this isn’t the right Carolyn. Her answers aren’t right, not specific enough, and you can hear the disappointment seeping into Dave’s voice. But Carolyn keeps talking and responding, obviously trying to impress Dave.

You make your way back towards where Aaron is standing and cross your arms over your chest. Dave’s words from the car are still rattling around in your head and pulling your thoughts towards your partner, the messy bits of life you’d shared and the adventures you’d promised to share. You turn your attention to where Carolyn is fawning over a melancholy looking Dave, trying to impress him. It's not an unfamiliar scene at this point, Dave can apparently charm any woman, even if she’s not the one he’s looking for.

“I wish I was your Carolyn, I would have enjoyed a life with you,” she’s telling Dave as they walk over to you and Aaron, “but I also would not have let you go in the first place.” Dave smiles at her and you all say goodbye.

As you walk back to the car, step in step with Dave, you smile and ask, “What is it with you and Italian women? They just fall at your feet.” Dave chuckles and you catch Aaron’s quirk of a smile, happy you managed to make both men happy for a moment.

By the time you get back to the hotel, all three of you are exhausted. Aaron walks with Dave to his room, wanting to make sure he’s alright and bring him anything he might need. You head back to your room alone, already planning on spending the evening writing. There’s a good amount in your notebook and you want to start getting it into a document. You might even reach back out to your old boss, talk about coming back to work in a different capacity once you return to New York and feel ready.

You settle at the desk in your room, laptop out and booting up, and feel yourself get pulled into the rhythm of writing an article. The notes and thoughts in your notebook aren’t terrible, but polishing them into a more cohesive story fills your evening and you look up at one point for a break and realize it’s nearly dinner time. There’s a simple room service menu you order from before sitting back down in front of your laptop to continue working. The knock on the door announcing the arrival of your food pulls you from your trance. As the hotel employee wheels the cart out of your room, you hear a knock on the doorframe.

Aaron’s voice is calling your name and when you peak your head around the wall to the door, you see him holding the door open. “Oh, come in,” you tell him, standing up from the desk chair.

“Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get dinner, but you seem to already have that figured out,” Aaron points out.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on the story and didn’t want to stop so-”

“Can I read it?”

You blink at him. “Uh. No, not yet. It’s not ready.”

 Aaron takes a step towards you. “Come on, just a little bit. I want to make sure you’re telling the story right. That I’m being portrayed accurately.”

“Trust me, you’re being portrayed accurately. No worries there.”

Aaron huffs out a breath and shoves his hands into his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” you laugh. You push off from the desk and grab Aaron by the shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Now leave me be so I can work in peace.”

He says your name, almost in a whine and you roll your eyes, opening the door. “Out. Goodnight Aaron.”

“Just one paragraph, please,” he protests as you shove him out of your room.

“Goodnight Aaron,” you say with a tone of finality.

“Goodnight,” he says, the door swinging shut in his face. You settle back in at the desk, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

The next morning, you search the patio for Aaron and Dave. They tend to beat you to breakfast and you figure today is no different. But you can’t find them anywhere so you simply grab yourself some food and sit at a table, facing the entrance to the breakfast area. You keep an eye out for them as you fix yourself a cup of coffee and pick at the pastry you’d gotten, pouring over your notebook.

“Ah, good morning.” You look up to see Aaron standing by the table. You smile, tapping your pen against your cheek.

“Morning,” you say as he sits down. There’s a comfortable silence as Aaron pours himself coffee and you concentrate on your notebook. It's still just the two of you at the table after a few minutes. “Where’s Dave?” you ask, eyes still scanning the pages of your notebook.

“He said he wanted to sleep in today.”

Your head snaps up and you look at Aaron. “Is he okay?” You can hear the slight panic in your voice, mind already racing with where the closest pharmacy is and what could possibly be wrong.

Aaron says your name, eyes locking on yours and cutting through your worry. “He’s fine, just tired,” he assures you. You let out a breath, nodding. “So he’s going to lie in for the morning. I was thinking about, uh, going into Siena and seeing the sights. Since we’re here you know.” He shrugs, glancing over to you.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” You turn back to your notebook, plans for working on your story filling your thoughts. Aaron lets out a soft scoff and you look up at him, confused. “What, it is a good idea! You should go explore. I’ll stay here and work on my story.”

Aaron looks out towards the city, his thumb running over his other fingers, nerves coursing through him. “Right, work on your story,” he mutters. “Of course.”

You look up at him, taking in his pose, how tense he looks. Quickly, you glance at your notebook and think it over in your head. You’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, the story was coming together quite nicely. Taking time away from it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And the way Aaron’s holding himself, the way he was talking, it’s almost as if he wants you to come with him. You shake that thought, thinking of how callous and rude he’s been to you this entire trip, how dismissive he was of the entire plan to find Carolyn. But, you are here in Siena. Adventures in Italy, you hear your partner whisper, as if their voice had been carried by the breeze.

You sigh and place your pen in between the pages of your notebook, saving your place. “Since we’re here,” you say grabbing Aaron’s attention, “we might as well explore.” He flashes you one of his small smiles and you return it, before putting your notebook in your bag and standing up. “C’mon Aaron, show me the sights.”

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo​ @averyhotchner​ @kelstark​ @hurricanejjareau​ @oreogutz​ @whentheautumnleavesfall​ 

[cno-inbminor]

thank you for the tag dear <3 @xakusa

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

i think the writers i would tag have already been tagged, but pls feel free to do this and tag me!!

i had to sit and remember if i’ve even written 8 works this year LMAO -- in no particular order: 

Immergo  - My first ever HQ fic. I binged the 3 seasons in April and lurked around in the tags for a while before I felt like I could write something. It’d been so long since I last wrote and published anything so I was really nervous! I certainly don’t regret it -- not my best work, but it was fun to write so much again. And the fact that it’s a comfort fic for some and SOMEONE PRINTED IT OUT is just...wow. What a way to get into the HQ writer sphere. 

Untitled 2 - Iwa - I’m not sure why I would consider this a favorite. It’s not as popular, but I just love the idea of Iwaizumi being soft and very passionate about his love for someone? Throw in soulmates!au, reincarnation, and vampire -- very self-indulgent on my part, really.

Adsentio - You put Keiji and Royalty!AU together and I will froth at the mouth. I just rewatched The Swan Princess and felt mildly inspired to write something of my own. The first part and the bonus letters might’ve been my favorite to write. Again, very self-indulgent. 

Untitled 1 - Keiji - I just rewatched Little Women (2019) and this was born from it. Soft, thoughtful Keiji is one of my favorite Keiji’s. 

Inpetus - You’re starting to see a theme here -- I watched Burlesque and wanted to try something a little bit on the slightly risque side, although nothing happens in it. I think this was before we knew what Kuroo was doing post!time skip so it was fun imagining that. Looking back, I’d fix the dream sequence but writing it at the time was a slight whirlwind. 

Domus - I have an odd relationship with this fic -- it’s my most popular one thus far, but it was the one I least expected to gain any traction. My brain was...melting at the time of writing it? And I had some stuff bottled up inside so I was really just trying to find an outlet. But I’ve grown to like it more as time has gone on, and it’s really because of everyone who ever reblogged or liked it or commented or sent me asks about it -- the fact that multiple people have come and told me that this was a comfort fic for them and how much they loved Keiji in this? It’s left me floored and just feeling really honored. I don’t think I deserve it but I’m so thankful for it. 

Untitled 1 - Kuroo - You can also see that I’m shit at coming up with titles. But this was really fun to write for me -- my guilty pleasure is like...where the character chases the reader in some form or fashion? I’m a romantic idealist and I’m hooked on the idea of someone just fighting for you, in the most general sense. Dash in good/best friends relationship...I’m a sucker for reading those and writing them. I’m not a very eclectic writer LMAO 

Ipsum Exitio - And last but certainly not least, this fic. I’m still working on Pt. 2 -- Raenah, if you ever see this, I can’t thank you enough for being my beta. You put up with all my rambling and chaotic thought processes to put this together and gave it so much care, I don’t deserve you. (Side note: I hope you’re doing well and had a good holiday season!)  This fic is personal, to a certain degree. And there’s so much exposition and character building, which I think is something that might bore people but it’s a manifestation of how I’ve thought about others for a while: What drives people to do the things they do? This is something that’s extremely pertinent in my field, but also how I try to get to know people and look at them as holistically as possible. Self-destruction is the theme of this fic, and honestly, it stems from my own self-destructive tendencies. There’s not a whole ton of dialogue, and my writing isn’t the most interesting of styles either, so I would say this is one of my least popular fics. I spent a lot of my time just hoping that it all makes sense as to how the characters, including the reader/YN navigates through her life. 

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Mysterious Broom” || YEAR 3 – Ch.22 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 9/22/2020

Word count: 3,395

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather skipped through the corridor, smiling at the mysterious lights shining from inside every suit of armor, her heavy bag bumping against her thigh with every leap. The air smelled of toasted pumpkin pies and syrupy-thick sugary drinks with nutmeg, the halls sparkled brightly from the outside light reflecting off the streamers hung from ceiling corner to ceiling corner.

The halls echoed her shoes and the thumping of presents as she made her way to Gryffindor tower, presenting herself to the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

“Here to duel me, are you? Well head my warning! I never lose!” He raised his sword up and jumped into fighting stance, his horse yawned in the background.

Heather rolled her eyes and knocked on the portrait.

“Fight me!”

The portrait opened and Hermione jumped and hugged her close. “Merry Christmas!”

Heather groaned under her tightening hug. “Hermione! Too tight!”

Hermione pulled away and stepped aside to let her in. Heather took a seat by the fire and ate some toasted round nuts from a bronze saucer while Hermione got her presents down from her room. They snacked and talked about how nice it was to have windows and be so high up and be able to look down at the white castle grounds in the winter.

As much as Heather loved how green and dark and mysterious the lake looked through the Slytherin common room’s massive window, she did wish she could look out onto the grounds during autumn and winter sometimes. The lake always looked the same no matter the season.

The clock over the mantel had struck ten and Hermione decided to go wake Ron and Harry. Within minutes the three of them were running down the stairs and diving into seats next to Heather, ready to exchange and open presents.

Harry fixed his crooked glasses. “Alright. Weasley presents first.”

They took the lumpiest parcels and shredded it open. They had each gotten brand new knitted sweaters in their respective house colors along with knitted socks, a dozen mince pies – home-baked of course – with a box of nut brittle to top everything off.

“I love her sweaters!” Heather looked at her brand new green sweater with a silver snake knitted at the front instead of a giant letter ‘H’. She looked at Harry’s sweater and smiled. “Your old sweater is getting a little short on you right?”

Harry nodded and crunched on some nut brittle. When Harry had gotten an emerald green sweater with the letter ‘H’ stitched inside she had been more excited that eventually she’d get that one too than the fact they were twins and could finally match like twins always did.

They opened cards next, not signed but it did mention studying hard and they figured it was one of the ‘lame’ teachers – as Ron put it – wishing them a Merry Christmas.

“Hagrid’s next?” Ron picked up a parcel that behaved a little too much like a giant rock wrapped in brown paper.

They agreed and together heaved their rock-like packages forward and began opening it. They stared at the contents for a while.

Ron blinked several times. “A rock? It’s a rock.”

They had each received a large jagged lump of muted brown with specks of black and swirls of dark grey. Heather tipped her rock over and saw a carved wooden grater. She picked it up and scraped it down the side, watching as little brown shaving came off the rock with ease.

“Ohh!” Hermione waved the little card around that had come stuck to the brown paper. “They’re ‘Brazilian Cocoa Danburites from Erosional Caverns’ according to Hagrid.”

Heather stuck her finger in the shavings and sucked them off her thumb. “Mmm!” Her heart soared with delight at the thought of being able to scrape cocoa into warm butterbeer all year long. Sometimes Hagrid really knew the perfect gifts to give. She wrapped it back up and put it aside. “Next?”

“Mine,” Hermione pushed several presents out from behind her and handed them out.

Heather opened hers quickly, excited to see what Hermione had found after she had told her she wanted a nice pot. She rolled out the object and gasped at the beautifully painted silver pot. It was small enough to hold in one hand but large enough to grow a good sized large-leafed plant. “It’s amazing!”

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled. “I painted it myself – but don’t worry. I made sure the paint wouldn’t mess with the charms.”

She looked at the pot again with new eyes. “Charms?” She hadn’t even considered that wizard pots would have charms and spells put on them.

“Yeah. The witch said this one is good for beginners because it creates the perfect environment for the plant so it’s harder to kill it.”

Heather raised a brow. “Thanks for your confidence in my herbology abilities. You know I got a better score than you on my giant hogweed plant last week.”

“What are you trying to say with this, Hermione?” Harry lifted a long orange comb. He pressed a button and the teeth started moving like on a chainsaw.

Ron laughed. “Alright, I agree with her on that gift for you.”

Heather laughed and poked a very unamused Harry with currently long and untidy, shaggy hair. Ron had received a bag of candy and a bottle of grammar ink and it was now his turn to give them each a can of butterbeer. They opened them up and drank while they unwrapped Heather’s presents that were actually rocks but painted to look like their faces. They laughed at that and opened Harry’s next, which were some left over vanilla cakes from Honeydukes.

Ron who was already stuffing his face with a vanilla cake pointed at a long thin package forgotten under the coffee table. “Harry, you forgot that one.”

“Oh.” Harry bent down and placed it on the table, moving all his presents aside. “It doesn’t have a note.”

“Who’d send just you a present?” Heather crossed her arms, feeling a ‘famous Harry Potter’ moment coming on.

Harry smiled and wriggled his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Maybe if you’d open it,” Ron handed him one end of the twine holding the brown paper together.

Harry pulled the twine free and slid out the present, gasping as a brand new slim and shiny broomstick hit the table. “I don’t… I can’t believe…”

Heather’s jaw dropped and Ron almost jumped out of his seat. Hermione took the paper and immediately started looking for a note.

“A new broom? Why? How? Who – ?” Heather ran her finger down the handle and gasped, feeling electricity run through her body, immediately reminding her of the feeling of wind through her long tangle-y hair.

Harry only shrugged and picked it up, the handle glittered as it moved, perfectly polished. The firebolt was identical to the one Harry had been looking at during their stay at Diagon Alley. He stood up and Heather with him, followed by Ron, all eager to see it in action. Harry let go suddenly and the broom stayed hovering in the air, ready to be mounted and used to surely win any Quidditch game against anyone.

“It’s amazing,” said Harry hoarsely.

“But, but who sent it?” Hermione was now retracing Harry’s steps, yelling from the bottom steps a few feet away. She ran upstairs looking all over the ground. “It’s not your aunt and uncle, right?”

“No way,” Heather and Harry unisoned.

Ron took a step closer and started walking around it, taking in every detail. “Must have been Dumbledore then! Like with your invisibility cloak!”

Heather shook her head, getting pushed by Harry. The three of them were now walking around the broom. “No, he only did that because it was our father’s.”

“Or,” Ron continued, “It is from him, but he can’t say it’s from him because then gits like Malfoy would say it’s favoritism!”

Heather stopped and Harry and Ron bumped into one another. “That WOULD be favoritism.”

Ron wasn’t listening. He pulled Harry’s sweater sleeve, “Wait ‘till Malfoy sees this! He’ll get as red as a tomato seeing you fly on this thing! It cost more than all the Slytherin brooms combined! And FASTER.”

“If it’s even allowed,” Heather was starting to panic now. This broom was the fastest out there. Any team who played against Harry would surely lose in under a minute. “This broom might not – ”

Ron crossed his arms and faced her, “It’s an internationally standard broom, this is. Malfoy. Will. FREAK.”

Harry’s smile widened, lighting up his eyes. “This… This is great!”

Ron started jumping up and down and hooting with glee. Heather crossed her arms and sank into one of the chairs, throwing a pillow down angrily. She’d never hear the end of this now. What little popularity she’d started to cultivate in her house would surely all whisk away the moment any of them saw Harry’s new broom. They’d all look at her like it was her own fault he got the better broom. And she could hear it now from Pansy and Draco, ‘Why’d we get the worse twin in our house,’ and ‘Can’t you try not to be a failure for once, Heather?”

How was she supposed to compete when every wizard, baby and old, knew and loved Harry Potter, the boy who lived, defeater of You-Know-Who. For all they knew it could have been a random fan who heard Harry broke his broom from a dementor attack. She sighed and crossed her arms, kicking at the pillow she’d thrown down.

Ron was still laughing when an even worse thought popped into her head. She was the one who convinced her team not to play last match! With Harry’s new broom, everyone will be wishing they’d played him before he broke it! Now that really was her fault. She squeezed her cheeks, zoning out on the broom, and pulled them down in agony. She was doomed.

“What,” Ron tried ceasing his laughing fit. “What about Lupin!”

Harry pulled his arm back from the broom and laughed. “Lupin? If he had this much gold, he’d buy himself new robes.”

Ron shook his head. “But he likes you! Besides he went somewhere, so he could have gone to Diagon Alley. Maybe he heard what happened and decided to buy it for you while he was out.”

Heather tuned back in. “Went somewhere? Went where? He was sick the whole time.”

Ron shrugged. “Well he wasn’t in the hospital wing. I had to clean the bedpans for Snape’s detention before I could go to the match. And after your match, he still wasn’t there.”

“He must have been sick in bed.” Heather rolled her eyes. It was so easy for Ron and Harry to jump to conclusions. It certainly wasn’t Lupin who sent the broom.

Hermione came back down with a look of worry. “I searched under your beds and the note didn’t fall in there.” She’d been searching for a dropped card the whole time they were examining the broom.

“Alright.” Ron narrowed his eyes at her.

She bit her lip. “Not alright… I mean… It’s weird. Like you’ve been saying, it’s an expensive broom… It’s odd that Harry would just receive one.”

Ron stepped forward. “Loads of people love Harry! Any one of them could’ve gifted the broom.”

“But who would want to keep it anonymous that they sent it?”

Ron must have guessed where she was going because he quickly turned to Harry. “Can I ride it? Let’s go test it out outside! Play with Fang again.”

“No!” Hermione put her hands up. “N-not yet! None of us should ride it yet.”

“Well what else should we do with it, Hermione? Sweep the floors?” Ron scoffed.

Before Hermione could get mad at Ron, they heard banging and tumbling coming from the boy’s dormitories. They all turned towards the sound.

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you!” Ron ran for the stairs. “Scabbers!”

Hermione looked apologetic and ran after Ron. “Crookshanks is just playing!”

Heather remained seated, looking at the broom. Harry went back to inspecting the golden engraving.

From upstairs they could hear Ron yelling. “GET. THAT. MONSTER. OUT. OF. HERE!”

“NO CROOKSHANKS, DON’T GET IN THERE!”

There was a high pitched warbling noise suddenly. Heather and Harry ran up to see what had happened. Heather clapped her hands to her ears and stared inside Harry’s trunk. Crookshanks was hiding and Scabbers was trying to dig further into Ron’s pocket, trying to get away from the noise.

“Ah,” Harry picked up a round object – the pocket sneakoscope – and stuffed it into a sock. It was still going so he shoved it under as many clothes as possible until it was barely audible.

Hermione took the chance to pick Crookshanks up as he recovered from hissing at the noise. “There, I’ve got him.”

Ron pointed at the door. “Great. Then get him out!”

“You don’t have to yell!”

“Just keep that bloody vicious monster away from my rat! He’s trying to eat him, Hermione! Not play! They aren’t pals!”

Hermione huffed and ran out of the room.

Ron slammed the door shut and took Scabbers out, putting him on his bed. “It’s alright, that evil creature’s out now.”

Heather eyed Scabbers and shared a look with Harry. As much as Ron was trying to keep him alive, it looked like Scabbers would soon pass naturally anyways. Once so round, he was now thin as toothpicks. His hair was in patches and his ears drooped. He normally would have scampered away and now lay on the bed, unable to gather the energy to bolt – although that may have been because minutes ago he was running for his life. But still. He didn’t look good.

“Have you been giving him that rat tonic?” She didn’t think it’d help much if he was. She doubted the tonic could put off death.

“Yeah, but it’s not helping.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to him. “Maybe it’s just stress,” he put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

Ron nodded and tucked Scabbers into bed. “You rest. That stupid furball with teeth is gone.”

They left the boy’s dormitiories and Ron shut the door tight. They walked downstairs to Hermione, who was sitting with her arms crossed.

“Crookshanks is in my room. I’ve closed the door.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Ron was being unnecessarily harsh but no one said anything. Hermione really should be more careful with that cat. Heather sat down on the couch and looked at the fire, staring at Harry’s broom as darkly as Hermione was.

She was trying to come up with plans to get him to not use it. But none seemed fair or plausible. His Head of House would obviously be more than happy to let him use it… and Professor McGonagall would surely fight anyone who suggested it was unfair. Not like Professor Snape would help her with the problem, even if it did concern his own team. He’d probably help Harry just to spite her…

She shook her head. No, he hated Harry more, he’d choose her over him any day. And Lupin wouldn’t do anything, he liked them both equally. She couldn’t owl Draco either, since he wasn’t supposed to know. She creased her eyebrows, getting really worried now. What if she got kicked off the team for ruining their chances?

For the second year in a row they’d lose the House Cup because of her. Well, she sunk deeper in her brooding state, last year wasn’t her fault either. She didn’t know she was picking the wrong tunnel, just like she didn’t know he’d receive a brand new broom – best in the world broom. Marcus would understand… wouldn’t he?

No. She could see it now. Cassius standing up on the crystal coffee table, right before the team left for practice. ‘Are you sure you want a traitor like Potter on your team Flint? She planned this. She KNEW Harry Potter would get a better broom. She’s one of them! She wishes she was a Gryffindor. She’s betrayed us.’ Marcus would turn to her and only shake his head, indicating her permanent termination from the team.

All the small friendships she had started to grow would be put out in an instant, too. No one would want to be friends with the Slytherin House’s personal enemy. Even the girl who sleeps next to her, the nice one she’d found out, whose name is Cindy and let her borrow a few berries to give to her toad, would ignore her. If even Cindy would ignore her, she could only imagine how bad Pansy would get.

Pansy would start bullying her again, but worse. Before she’d just be annoying and no one would care. Now her mean spirited jokes would make her more popular. Heather shuddered to think.

Harry wiped a soft cloth over the broom’s handle where Ron touched it. Heather frowned at them. But she wasn’t going to sabotage Harry’s chance at playing on a broom. She couldn’t. Could she? Maybe she could just tell him how bad this would be for her. Have him use her broom and hide that one away until next year or something. She closed her eyes in frustration, realizing why it wouldn’t work. But they had to play each other eventually! Thanks to her stupid dumb plan from earlier!

She should have kept her mouth shut. Then Marcus would have a losing team and Heather would not be associated with it at all. Next year he would’ve stayed clear of Cassius for sure, thinking he was some sort of bad luck.

She had a sudden realization. She wondered… could she hint at Draco to get a broom like that before he came back to Hogwarts? Harry and Ron were still wordlessly drooling and Hermione was still brooding in her corner, glaring at the poor broom.

Heather got up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to put my things away before lunch.” No one said anything as she picked up her bag full of presents and left the room. She closed the portrait and ran down the steps.

She bolted down the main floor corridor and took the dungeon steps two at a time, knocking into something so hard they both fell down.

“Potter!”

She stood up quickly and jumped back against the wall, quivering at the familiar deep voice that had just yelled.

Professor Snape shook his long hair slightly and dusted off angrily. He stood towering like he normally did when a student mouthed off to him. “Next time I hear or see you running down those stairs you will receive a day’s detention for every step.”

Her brain was numb with adrenaline and for some reason the only thing she could think to say was, “There’re thirty-six steps.”

He frowned and looked at the stairs. “Then that’s thirty-six days of detention you’ll be facing… So don’t do it again. You’re lucky I wasn’t carrying any potions or I’d have you clean the whole dungeon floor before dinner.”

Heather nodded and fixed her stance. She realized her arms were spread on the wall like she was being cornered by a ferocious wild cat of the mountains. She pulled her bag closer. “Sorry, Sir.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why all the rush, Potter.”

“Just… need to send Draco a letter. As soon as possible.”

He arched his brow but said nothing. He turned, apparently deciding the interrogation was over, and swept up the stairs.

Heather breathed out, amazed she hadn’t gotten expelled right then. Maybe it was a sign things couldn’t possibly get any worse. She smiled and ran to the common room door. She wrote a quick letter, trying to stealthily hint at Draco to buy the newest broom and ran back out – walked up the steps – and ran all the way to the owlery to pick the perfect owl to send.

She made it back just in time to climb a few stairs and bump into Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their way to lunch.

“Why’re you sweating?” Harry stopped and stared.

She shrugged, “I bumped into Professor Snape… I thought he’d expel me for it. He didn’t.”

That was enough for them so they headed down to lunch together in the same quiet silence as the morning had ended up being.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

                          Chapter List

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@lokilover-39

@halcyonrogers

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@lady-of-black-roses

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[overthedub]

Gorillaz Fic Recs Part 1

Today’s a day all about love, and I just feel like there isn’t a whole lot of love shown towards the fanfic side of this fandom. Hopefully my haphazard rec list can fix that.

A lot of fics on this list (though certainly not all) feature Murdoc as the main character (because I love him lol), so if you hate him, maybe skip over this rec list.

Got a good mix of family fics, angst, and other stuff, so take your pick.

(Part 2 incoming)

Family Fics

Things They Don’t Understand by Ferrenbach

Summary: Murdoc is the most real person in the world, but it's hard to make people understand when he doesn't have the words.

Rating: Teen

BOOOIIII this fic. THIS fic right here is my jam. I absolutely adore it to bits, and whenever I’m lacking inspiration to write for my own fic, I go and revisit it.

The poetic style, the deep characterizations of both Murdoc and 2-D, just everything about this fic is so damn good, my dudes. Holy shit, I cannot recommend this one-shot enough.

Worlds Infinite by Ferrenbach

Summary:

Murdoc goes looking for 2-D, who can only take so much party noise. He can also only take so much alcohol before turning into an armchair philosopher. Murdoc is more practical. There's no sense in musing on "what-ifs" after all, is there?

Rating: Gen

Yet another great piece from Ferrenbach. I’ve been meaning to delve into their other fics, too, but so far I’ve only had time to read a couple of their one-shots.

I adore the atmosphere of this fic, and the descriptions and characterizatons of Murdoc and 2-D are just as amazing as in Things They Don’t Understand.

The Gunpowder Princess by ghoullly

Summary:

A runaway princess with a gun on her back

A man with raven's wings and a bird's skull atop his head.

A giant man with long legs and the biggest heart she'd ever seen (figuratively and literally).

A man with a ghost between his ears and the ability to sway the elements with his mood.

One man is mute, one man is blind, and one man is deaf.

A ragtag group of misfits band together to travel to the edge of Japan to help the young heiress escape her planned assassination. They quickly realize that it's not as easy as it sounds, especially with some dangerous people following close behind.

Rating: Mature

I haven’t had the chance to catch up with this fic in a while (and it’s unfinished), but I adore this AU to bits. Japanese folklore AND found family dynamic? Yes, please.

return address by beepboopwriting

Summary:

Even evil has loved ones.

Sometimes, evil sends said loved ones letters written in nasty ink and addressed from a high security prison.

Loved one replies. She replies a lot.

Rating: Teen

This one makes me wanna cry, man. Murdoc and Noodle’s father-daughter relationship was one of the reasons I joined this fandom in the first place, and this Phase 5 fic does NOT disappoint. My heart aaaaah

Horse With No Name by Invader Sam

Summary:

Another one-shot Gorillaz fic, this time set during their first US tour. Noodle is plagued with nightmares and Murdoc, fearing it may be affecting her performance in the band, decides to 'handle it'. :) Rated for one or two curse words.

Rating: Teen

This is a really cute Phase 1 Murdad one-shot that made me smile a lot.

Sleepover by vinnie2757

Summary: 'Is this "Everybody Crawls into Murdoc's Bed Night" and I wasn't informed?’

Rating: K

Another cute Phase 1 one-shot where both Noodle and 2-D have nightmares and sneak into Murdoc’s bed to talk to him about it like the kids they are, much to his weary dismay.

Snapshots by vinnie2757

Summary:

The early years are full of the soft moments, the easy smiles and piggybacks, the laughter and the supportive hands behind backs. [A collection of moments from a time when Gorillaz were happy.]

Rating: K+

This one-shot collection spans across multiple phases and is an all-around nice time. No drama, no angst, just Gorillaz being a family. :D

You Are Now Entering The Harmonic World... by OceanBacon23

Summary:

A collection of little scenes. Each deals with a certain song by Gorillaz, and you might need to know each song before you can read the story.

No archive warnings apply. ADDITIONAL WARNINGS MAY BE PLACED IN AUTHORS' NOTES.

Rating: Gen

I haven’t read all the one-shots in this collection yet, but it’s nice to take a peek into these song creation moments the band members get up to here.

The Apology by eyedentification

Summary: Murdoc makes amends. (My own take on a common Gorillaz fanfic trope.)

Rating: Mature

This is more a comedy one-shot than a family one. I’m not exaggerating when I say I yelled at this Phase 4 fic lmao. I won’t spoil anything other than the fact that this is just Peak Murdoc™.

Press, Release by ratbat

Summary:

Privacy is something you trade for fame, Murdoc knew that, but there's always something personal you hope to cling to, something to keep for yourself.

Now if only the fucking media and their hack lackeys would quit acting like that belonged to them too.

Rating: Teen

This is a great Phase 1 fic focusing on Murdoc’s own battle with internalized homophobia after the media tries to rip his coming out away from him in an interview.

This fic does have some slurs in it, courtesy of Murdoc’s own foul mouth and internalized hatred, but do read this one if you’re okay reading that sort of thing.

What Are We Going to Do? by Close_enough_to_lose

Summary:

Murdoc notices that Noodle looks embarrassed while handing 2D the lyric sheet for Every Planet We Reach Is Dead. He quickly figures out why. Luckily, it’s one thing he’s equipped to deal with.

Or,

Murdoc finds out Noodle is bi and gives her his advice.

Rating: Teen

More Murdoc being a good dad to Noodle. :D Just a bi dad giving his bi daughter (actually good) advice.

2D is Weird by alexisntedgy

Summary:

2D has always been a little different. Or, other people always thought he was. But when people keep telling someone that they're weird, it starts to get to you.

Or, 2D is autistic and has a panic attack because of his ~issues~.

TW for internalized ableism, panic attacks, and general ableism. Any other TWs in the notes.

Rating: Teen

I also have a headcanon that 2-D is autistic, and I like how this fic portrays how he struggles with his and other people’s perceptions of it and him. Noodle’s also being a good sister to him here, so that’s a plus.

Just Another Girl by alexisntedgy

Summary:

Noodle is a girl. She knows that. The only problem is, the rest of the world doesn't know it.

Rated T for Murdoc

Basically just trans Noodle. I love her she's gr8 :))

Rating: Teen

I haven’t caught up with this fic all the way through yet either, but the chapters I have read are super cute and wholesome and full of Gorillaz family-bonding. :3

Angst Fics

Pretending by FleetRed

Summary: After a casual hookup, Stu imagines what it would be like if it were something more.

Rating: Teen

I adore the many character study fics in this fandom, and this one is no exception. It’s a great insight into 2-D’s romantic mind.

The Selfish Giant by fashionpixiez

Summary:

YOU ARE MURDOC NICCALS, AND YOU ARE EMPTY.

No, no. Don’t tell me you’re not. You’re empty, aren’t you ? A vessel. But you aren’t the kind of vessel that wants to be filled, are you? No. You reach out to people and you touch their hearts and you burn them, because you want them to feel some of that burning emptiness too. that’s all you’re good for. (It’s like it’s all you’ve ever known.)

Rating: Teen

This fic hurts my heart, but damn is it good. The descriptions of Murdoc’s feelings and his past are so poignant here, I just want to hug him.

Other Murdoc-Related Fics

Tattoos by HowlingMisfit

Summary: There's a reason why Murdoc doesn't have them anymore. (Rated for: Major character "death", Gore, Blood, Nudity and Murdoc.)

Rating: Mature

This is a horror/supernatural one-shot that (to me at least) is more comedic than scary. Of course, the descriptions are downright macabre (which I love), but...again Peak Murdoc here.

Lucy, I’m Home by TheDarkLegate

Summary:

After the release of Humanz, Murdoc isn't willing to wait another seven years for more success. Lucifer wants to see just what he'll give up to get it. One shot. Spiritual Successor to "A Day in the Life of Satan".

Rating: Teen

I’ve hardly (if ever) seen any fanfics that delve into Murdoc’s deal with the Devil. The way Lucifer is portrayed as a world-weary businessman rather than someone to fear is pretty funny and really in line with Gorillaz’ sense of humor, too.

Morning Person by Lmaooooonade

Summary:

A young boy cherishes the mornings where he can just exist. Things might not be great, but he can at least exist peacefully for a while.

Rated Teen for my fucking language.

Based off the headcanon of another creator I very much admire, please inquire within.

Rating: Teen

This Phase 0 fic is a great stand-alone read even if I haven’t really delved into the headcanons that inspired their fic (though I have seen their neat artwork around sometimes).

If I move my hands fast enough, I won’t die by alexisntedgy

Summary:

Murdoc Niccals has Tourette’s syndrome, this is the story of his journey.

Because nobody else has written about this headcanon yet!!

This will probably be a place to keep Tourettes!murdoc ficlets and one shots!!! For context, I (the author) have a tic disorder :)

Rating: Teen

Personally, I like Murdoc’s verbal tics, so it’s interesting to see someone else’s take on why he does them here.

Aaaand that’s it for now! I’ve read a lot more Gorillaz fics than this, but this list was getting long enough as it is, so I figure it’d be best to just make another rec post based on genre.

Part 2 of my recs will focus more on OC/Murdoc and reader/Murdoc romance fics, so stay tuned for those!

If you have any fic recs for me, by all means tell me about them! Just keep in mind that I don’t like any band ships aside from 2Russ and RussDel.

Self-insert OCs or reader fics are a-okay, though!

[independence1776]

10, 13, 18, 29, and 39 for the meme!

10. Which character do you feel is most like you?

Kanan Jarrus. He spent a significant number of years wandering around, not really knowing what to do, and hating himself before he found people and a way to mostly come to terms with everything. I'm not actually sure he ever stopped hating himself. I'm still in the "finding my feet" stage, but he's honestly one of the few characters I can point to and go, "You. I identify so much with you." Which is one of the reasons his death hit me so hard and why I pretend it didn't happen.

(I don't often identify with characters. It's a method of fandom that, until Kanan happened along, didn't gel with me. I read and write fic because I'm interested in specific characters, not because I identify with them.)

13. Would you want to be a force user?

YES! I wouldn't want to be in the Star Wars universe and not be one. And would I love to be a Force user in the real world? Also YES.

18. How has Star Wars impacted your life?

This is a really hard question to answer. Star Wars was, more or less, my first fandom when I had no idea what fandom was. I watched the OT in 1994 and it's been a lifelong love (minus the year or so post-TLJ when that movie nearly succeeded in killing my love for the franchise). I've always wanted to be a Jedi; I've always wanted to fly an X-wing. I love the Prequels and always have. Rey is everything I wanted as a little girl growing up a Star Wars fan.

So I'll go with the most obvious answer: my appearance. I have worn a Padawan braid more or less since the AOTC theatrical release. I stopped for a few years in my late 20s, but I've since begun again. Most of my fandom-related T-shirts are Star Wars (my lone non-SW T-shirt is a very faded Tolkien shirt my sister made for me with an iron-on transfer). I also have a Jedi costume.

It's not a canon that I consider life-changing (that's Young Wizards and Tolkien), largely because my love of Star Wars is so entwined in my life that it's just… me.

29. Which character doesn't get enough credit or screentime?

I'll skip my usual answer of Depa Billaba and go with Mon Mothma. I don't know what's been done with her in the Disney post-OT years (and don't care because I've bounced off every OT-character-related thing Disney has done except for when they appear in Rebels and Rogue One), but I want to know more about her (and Bail's) growth of the Alliance, her tightrope in the Imperial Senate, her life as a senator during the Republic, her friendship with Padmé, her relations with the Jedi,  pretty much everything.

39. If you wrote a 'fix-it fic', what would you write about?

If? Hahaha. I have a handful of Depa-lives AUs either in drafts or brewing in my head. I have a Kanan-and-Ezra time travel fix-it written (it's not worth editing). I have the summary of a "season 4 of Rebels never happened" fic that I'm content to leave as-is. And some of those Depa-lives AUs are Order 66 AUs where either Order 66 never happened or happened differently (though all of them are "things are still shitty because Palpatine is still in power").

I suppose an actual fix-it would involve Fives getting to speak to the Jedi instead of Palpatine in the chips arc of TCW. Palpatine outright said in the arc that if the Jedi found the chips, his plans would likely be ruined. So that's the easiest way.

I would probably end up going with a prompt I dumped in my Maythe4thbewithyou Dear Yoda letter: a Caleb-and-Depa-centric AU where the Republic wins the war and never becomes the Empire, an exploration of being a Padawan to and a member of the High Council when the Jedi are dealing with the fallout from the war both within the Order and in the rest of the galaxy. I like crunchy politics (one of my wishes for the PT is that the deleted political scenes would have stayed in), somewhat dark storylines (though not grimdark and bleak), complicated emotions about everything, and lots and lots of exploration of the consequences of pretty much everything.

As I said, that was a prompt, so I don't have any plot or or know what the fix-it event is beyond it being fairly late in the war because of Caleb being Depa's Padawan or anything beyond that. So it's more like I'd write the aftermath of a fix-it rather than the fix-it itself.

[gaasaku-fanfests]

Misfits (part 5 & 6)

Title: Misfits Author: clem-chan Rating: T Word Count: 27 388 Summary: Marrying a CEO in the midst of a romantic scandal to pay for med school is not the happy ending Sakura imagined for herself. The arrangement that started as constant bickering soon becomes so much more… If only her husband was hers to fall in love with. GaaSaku. Modern!AU Warnings: There is a light make-out session hence the T rating. There’s also mention of child abuse and childhood trauma. Minor ships: light KankuKiba, very light ShikaTema, mention of NejiTen.

Author’s Note(s): Two little things to mention: First, I wanted to keep this accessible to all, so I have cut out more raunchy scenes which will be posted in the AO3 version of this fic soon. Second, I have this headcannon where Gaara and Sakura are just two misfits. :P So, that’s what this story is about: two misfits forced together. XD Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Trope: Arranged Marriage

. [warnings are for overall fanfic, not individual parts.]

PART 5

Gaara got home late, kicking off his shoes in frustration.

Gritting his teeth, he replaced them back in their place on the shoe rack. He straightened her shoes.

'That Orochimaru...' he swore inwardly.

Gaara had wanted to save them all, all the employers of that little company, but they were still aboard a sinking ship. His investors were displeased, disappointed, supporting their claims with figures Gaara now knew by heart. A large deficit. A gaping hole that he had bought off because the term 'family business' crushed him.

All families deserved to be saved.

Frustrated, Gaara tore his tie from his neck, and roughly turned on the lights in the kitchen.

There was a note written in pink scribbles on the counter. 'Pink ink how ridiculous', he thought. He smirked coldly at her illegible handwriting, spinning the note toward him. "Thank you for the watch and stapler. -S."

He stretched his neck, massaging away the tension.

Then, he turned to the living room as he normally did at night. He startled.

His usual place in the living room was occupied by her. She slept, curled in a ball, her left hand under her cheek. Her pale face gleamed in the hot yellow of the kitchen's dim lights. Various textbooks and notebooks surrounded her, some open, some closed. Chaos.

He rolled his head back, stretching his tensed neck, and he pressed his eyelids shut for a moment.

Gaara winced, silently lowering his briefcase to the floor.  

His hands on his hips, he looked out the bay window. His reflection grimaced back at him. At night, he worked best in the living room, lying down on the couch and leafing through reports.

It was his place.

"Our house, honey," her voice mocked him.

His jaw locked painfully.

Abruptly, he opened the coffee table, and withdrew a beige blanket from there. He draped it over her, careful as not to touch her more than necessary.

He bent down to retrieve his briefcase, and Sakura stirred. She rose up from the couch, rubbing her eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Gaara whispered, and he continued toward the staircase.

"Thank you for the watch," Sakura called after him.

Gaara frowned, his feet on the first step. Her voice resonated fragile, and when his head turned toward her, her reddened eyes seemed puffy.

"You already said in the note."

"And thank you for the stapler."

"Don't just repeat what was in the note, it's useless," Gaara winced, lowering his head slightly, and his hand stiffened around the handrail. "I'm sorry it was the only thing I could remember clearly from your stuff. I couldn't get it back."

"Thanks for trying," she said and her small smile quivered on her lips.

Sakura stood up and walked to him.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep. Goodnight, Gaara-sama."

She brushed by him, but he held her arm back, his eyes avoiding hers. Her heartbeat quickened. His hand loosened around her arm, his hot skin, now merely brushing against hers. She shivered.

"At the hospital...." Gaara gulped, his face darkening. "I hate crowds... I don't understand how they act. I was never good at understanding what is expected of me," he swallowed hard, thinking of his school years. "You were laughing," he added softly. "You don't laugh here. With me."

"I should have introduced you. I was just surprised to see you."

He frowned at her, his head cocked to the side.

"It wasn't on my schedule to see you. You couldn't have known."

Sakura gave him a small patient smile, and his eyes drifted to his watch. The clerk, and now her... His eyes fell his tentative touch. He withdrew his hand from her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You should go to bed," Gaara nodded to himself.

"Mhm," Sakura yawned, and covered her mouth with her hand. "That couch is not comfortable anyway."

"Do you want another?" Gaara asked, and her heart skipped a beat at the expression on his face.

"It's fine, no," Sakura laughed nervously, her cheeks reddening. "I'm just saying you should sleep or lie down on the bed instead."

She made a movement to climb up the stair, but his voice stopped her again: "I thought I wasn't invited."

Sakura's shoulders stiffened, and she looked back at him over her shoulder. She bit her lip, and she wished he would blush, bulge, flinch. She turned her whole body toward him, as he remained at the bottom of the stairs, and her half-way up. Out of reach.

"I wasn't sure you would want to be invited..." Sakura said softly.

"Because I kissed a woman and made headlines?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded quickly, not trusting her voice.

"Sakura," Gaara said her name firmly, like she was steel, more solid than she felt. She stared back at him, his stare frank and ablaze, her skull pounding with her quickening heartbeat. "It was nothing... We have a notarized contract. You shouldn't..." his mouth quivered into a small smile. "You should trust that I don't sign things lightly."

Sakura smiled thinly, and bowed her head.  

"Goodnight, Gaara-sama."

"Drop the suffix," he called after her.

"We don't know each other," Sakura said irritated, her whole body flushed and tingling from his intensifying stare. "And I don't remember allowing you to take to me so informally."

"I'm still your husband. Drop the suffix," he said coldly, stubbornly.

Sakura growled, and turned on the lights in the hallway of the second floor.

"Stop ordering me around," Sakura shouted from upstairs.

"Hn."

She slammed the door of their bedroom.

"Okay, honey," Gaara added quietly, and he winced, turning away from the staircase to lie down on the couch.

He whispered it again to himself: 'Honey'.

He scowled.

It didn't fit.

It didn't sound right.

-X-

'Do your dishes, and don't leave your textbooks in the living room. Use your study.' The last sentence was underlined in a neat even line.

Sakura ripped the post-it on the refrigerator's door.

She balled it, and threw it in the recycling bin by the garbage can.

'STOP ORDERING ME AROUND!' Sakura scribbled on a piece of paper from one of her notebooks. She frowned at it. She crossed out the sentence until the letters were unrecognizable.

'Where are your STD test results, honey?' She wrote instead, and she hesitated.

Shaking her head, she clenched her jaw. Squared shoulders. Straight back. Chin up.

She stuck her note under a magnet.

She left for the hospital.

-X-

The coffee machine whirred, grinding the coffee beans.

His arms crossed, Gaara leaned back against the kitchen island.

Gaara narrowed his eyes at her note on the refrigerator, a ripped page from a notebook, with scribbles and crossed out words he couldn't make out anymore. He mouthed her words again, his lips twisted in a snarl.

There were a dirty bowl and a teacup in the sink.

Growling, he took the pink pen she had left on the counter and wrote underneath her note:

'Aren't you a doctor in training? It takes up to a month to have the results.'

He paused, his eyebrow twitching in irritation.

Ink should be blue.

Gritting his teeth, Gaara added: 'I'm away on business for a few days. A cleaning lady will come everyday.'

-X-

Gaara was annoyed.

He unclasped his watch with swift hand movements, fingers caressing the frame, holding back the bracelet, before setting it on the conference table.

The air of the hotel conference room buzzed, pushing back against him; waves of foreign languages promptly translated.

Around him, the investors offered the same portrait as the board of directors. They picked at him; clinging to the image of Gaara, imperturbable, now flinching for a woman who didn't come from old money. They watched him warily with renewed respect. He was now a man who had defeated all traditions. A man who didn't need a rich woman to be rich.

"Congratulations on your recent wedding, Gaara-sama," Chouza Akimichi said through his translator.

Gaara lowered his gaze to his watch's gleaming frame. It was his only meeting today. Time lapsed, a blurred reflexion that brought no sense of urgency or comfortable rhythm.

Gaara was completely at their mercy.

"Hn," he pinched his lips, his fingers pressing on his tattooed forehead. "We've drafted a new plan for our proposal as you requested."

"Did she come with you?"

"Who?" Gaara asked flatly.

He hoped they would drop the subject sensing his darkening mood. He fixed his unflinching gaze on them, letting the silence built, a bubbling tension. Informal. They spoke to him, their shoulders relaxed, leaned back on their seat, like they were at a social club instead of a business meeting.

Gaara was one of them now, they thought.

"Newly weds shouldn't be apart this early in the marriage." Mr Akimichi smiled to himself, shaking his head, and he played with his wedding band.

Gaara narrowed his eyes at the paperwork in front of him. Would they ever get to it?

"She works."

"My wife was eager to meet her."

His jaw twitched.

Gaara hated how a chorus of agreement was echoed by the two other investors. They nodded sagely. Their wives wanted to meet the woman who had breeched through Gaara's defense. A nameless woman now rich.

They respected her.

They envied her.

They hated her.

None of them had ever worked.

"Sakura was disappointed not to come," Gaara said stoically.

Mr Akimichi smiled satisfied and finally reached for the paperwork.

"I suppose she calls you every night to check up on your diet?"

Gaara stared intently at him.

"Ahh! Look at how embarrassed he is!" he laughed broadly.

They went through the paperwork fast, outlining some changes before they stood up.

Gaara put his watch back on, his face quivering with frustration and displeasure.

He had been young, careless, someone to fight and mercilessly argued with before his wedding.

Now they trusted him.

They clapped his back, asking him if he wanted a home cooked meal from their wife since his wasn't present?

Once they were gone, Gaara slammed his leather file folder shut. His hands whitened, stiff, shaking, curling around the back of his chair. His nails ripped at the leather in white marks.

He breathed in deeply.

He straightened his back, and buttoned back his suit jacket.

Gaara left the room, their laughter following him. He took out his phone.

"Yes?" Sakura said coldly when she picked up the phone.

He hadn't expected her to call, but shouldn't she have? Was it as they had told him?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his back hitting the handrail in the elevator.

"Are you done for the day?" he asked.

"Yes," she sniffed.

The silence stretched and stretched, and for once, Gaara was the one uncomfortable. His phone dug in his ear.

"I need to ask you something."

Sakura grunted in reply, distracted.

"In two weeks, there's a fundraiser..."

"I don't have my schedule that far in advance," she sighed and he heard her move around.

"Sakura..." he growled.

Couldn't she stand still? Couldn't she meet him half-way?

Frustrated, Gaara roughly pressed his card key to the card reader by his hotel room. The door hissed and he pushed it open with his shoulder, his phone still to his ear, his leather file folder pressed under his armpit.

"Are we done?" she asked coldly, and he flinched.

Gaara threw his leather file order on the bed and approached the balcony.

"Are you... well?"

"What?"

"Do you need anything?" he asked and his body pounded, ticked and clicked as he paced.

He was one minute to one hour. Sleepless. Angry. Terrified.

"Gaara..." she sighed and shifted.

She sounded tired, resigned, and farther away than ever.

"Hn?"

"Are you alone?"

His lips twisted in a snarl, her whisper booming, piercing through him.

"You don't trust me," he replied dully, dry-mouthed.

"You don't normally ask about my feelings."

"Hn."

"I didn't mean a woman. I meant... an audience," she said but her voice was brittle, scattered through the distance between them. It sizzled with static.

They didn't belong to each other.

They didn't belong with each other.

"I'm alone in my hotel room."

"OK," Sakura said softly.

Gaara closed his eyes, the muted sound of the city washing over him.

"Is the cleaning lady working out?"

"I suppose..." Sakura said tentatively.

"I'm back on Tuesday."

"OK."

He lowered the phone from his ear, his lips curling into a snarl. He hated this part of him. The child who craved love. The teenager who tattooed his forehead. The man who was still wounded and alone.

"Good night," Gaara said, and he hung up without waiting for her reply.

It possessed him, the same way insomnia and anger still consumed him; solitude.

He couldn't imagine calling her honey now.

***

PART 6

On Wednesday, Sakura came back from the hospital exhausted.

She grunted, kicking off her shoes. She left them in the entrance. She smirked at the thought of Gaara growling and staring at them in disgust. She knew he would touch his tie, loosen it, then place them where he wanted.

He was rude, and annoying and obsessed with perfect order.

His routine exasperated her.

Every week, he put his schedule on the refrigerator's door, and rearranged the refrigerator, tossing her snacks with pinched lips. He put notes everywhere for her, piles of printed documents that required her signatures. She had lost counts of how many times he had glared at her at breakfast or during supper, asking her why she didn't use the study.

"But he lives in the living room," Sakura growled under her breath.

She stretched her arms over her head, yawning, as she mounted the stairs.

She changed out of her clothes into comfortable ones.

After, she headed to the kitchen for a snack.

Sakura rolled her eyes at the note he had left on the counter: "Back." They lived around each other, carefully, wearily, with gritted teeth and clenched fists. She drank some orange juice directly from the bottle, humming to herself.

Her gaze drifted back to his note, and she suppressed a shudder of uneasiness.

Their phone call had ended abruptly and coldly, and she had punched her pillows in frustration after he hung up.

The bell rang, interrupting her trail of thoughts.

Frowning, she left the orange juice bottle on the counter and hurried to the door. Through the peephole, she saw Kankuro and Kiba holding flowers. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened the door with a smile.

"Kankuro-san, Kiba-san," Sakura greeted and bowed.

"Geez, you make me feel old. Call me oniisan, like a good little sis," Kankuro smirked and brushed by her to enter the house.

Kiba raised an eyebrow at her, glancing down at her outfit. She blushed, her hand falling over the piglet on her sweatshirt.

"Please, come in," Sakura mumbled, and she bowed her head again.

She couldn't tell whether Kiba was her elder or not. His voice was gruff, his face cut roughly, with his clansman's tattoos on his cheeks pale with age. His dark stare pierced through her, almost bestial, like he had seen too much.

"House warming gift," Kiba handed her the flowers.

"Oh, thank you," Sakura grimaced at the weight of the flowers.

Their white petals shook as she walked, smaller yellow flowers carefully tucked between the lilies of the valley. She blinked rapidly, her yearning breaking free. Home. They were flowers from Konoha.

She entered the house again, a sad smile on her lips.

Kankuro and Kiba sat on in the living room, glancing around.

"You said you redecorated." Kiba whispered.

"That little..." Kankuro swore under his breath, and his stare met hers. He smiled thinly at her, and Kiba relaxed against the couch next to him.

"Hmm, Gaara isn't here," Sakura blushed under his stare, busying herself with finding a vase in the cupboards.

"Well, we're also here for you, since you're our little sis now."

Sakura nodded, absent-mindedly, and she bit her thumb, staring at the kettle. She wondered if she should make tea or bring something more cool. Juice or...

"Did Gaara forget to say why we are here, or are we that intimidating?" Kankuro asked coldly.

Sakura whirled back toward them.

"Say what?"

"We're having supper tonight with you guys."

Sakura blanched.

"Oh, this is Wednesday," she realized in horror, and she glanced down at her outfit. "No, no, he mentioned it," she waved her hand, attempting to laugh weakly, but Kankuro's stare hardened. "I'm the one who forgot. I'm so sorry." She bowed deeply.

Kiba's touched Kankuro's arm, and grinned at Sakura. They leaned back against the couch in unison, perfectly in sync, Kiba's hand still massaging Kankuro's arm. Sakura's face softened.

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" Kiba asked with an encouraging smile.

"I'm still a trainee," she replied, and she started the kettle.

She took the teapot and cups out of the cupboard. She set them on a tray.

"My sis is a veterinarian," Kiba said and Sakura heard his Konohian accent. "She went through this very busy schedule."

"Oh," she smiled politely.

"I'm a cop. I had the easy way out."

"You put your life on the line all the time. Easy way, my ass," Kankuro scoffed.

Kiba grinned at him, and he laced their fingers together.

"I'm careful," he muttered and kissed his hand. "Sometimes."

The door whirred open, and Gaara emerged.

"Oi, are you late, Gaa-chan?" Kiba smirked, and winked at Sakura. "You left your pretty wife all alone with us."

Sakura set the tray on the coffee table, smirking.

"I'm never late, and don't call me that," Gaara grunted and made his way to the staircase. "We're leaving in five."

"I need to change too, excuse me. Make yourselves at home."

She followed him upstairs, catching up with him just as he reached their bedroom. He turned toward her with a frown.

"This was clearly an excuse to get away from them."

"What? I'm wearing pyjamas, Gaara."

He paused. He raised an eyebrow, his pale eyes moving up and down her body. Sakura winced and crossed her arms over her chest hiding the sparkling piglet. 'Ino and her stupid gifts...'

"All your clothes look the same to me," Gaara shrugged, his face placid.

Sakura gritted her teeth and reached past him to turn the knob of their bedroom. She gestured for him to close the door behind him.

"Do you really want your brother and his boyfriend to hear us arguing?" she asked venomously and strode into the walk-in closet.  

"No."

"Let's be civil then," Sakura snapped.

"Yes, let's."

"Well?" She frowned at him, tapping her foot with impatience.

"What?"

"Turn around, I need to change!" She gestured for him to turn around.

He shrugged again, and turned his back to her, removing his shirt. She glanced at her side of the walk-in closet, small and underdressed. She glanced at him, still turned away from her, now tugging a new shirt on.

'Hmm, I didn't know undershirts were still a thing,' she thought.

She sighed and dug out a little black dress Ino had lent her. She removed her sweatshirt quickly, her body flushed with the knowledge that Gaara was an arm length. 'This is surgical,' Sakura chastised herself. 'Just purely medical, surgical, not at all romantic or sexual.'

Biting her below lip, Sakura smoothed the fabric over her body and wriggled out of her shorts. She shook her lock loose out of her messy bun.

She grimaced at the mirror, and rummaged through her pile of clothes for a shawl to drape over her shoulders.

"How do I look?" Sakura turned back toward Gaara.

"Fine," he mumbled, barely looking up at her, from buttoning his shirt.

Sakura slapped his hands away, and he hissed, his face, his eyes darkening. Brows furrowed, she stepped closer to him, pulling at his uneven shirt.

"Great, now I have an ice breaker for your brothers. He said I look fine," she deepened her voice to imitate his.

Sakura unbuttoned some of the buttons, and her fingers grazing his undershirt. She froze, blinking. She had reacted instinctively. He gripped her wrists.

"What are you doing?" Gaara snapped, and his height towered over her.

She shrugged with forced nonchalance, her face burning. He appraised her coldly, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

"You missed a button." Sakura gently untangled herself from his hands, and buttoned his shirt again. "Now, this is civil, no?" She patted his chest, and he flinched.

She stepped away from him, her ears rang. He grunted deeply, her gaze hesitant and afraid. He stood too still, then he was moving toward her, his gleaming eyes narrowed. She took a step back, numb, hot, and afraid.

"Hn."

"I hope you took notes on civility," Sakura squeaked, and her back hit the wall.

"I hope you did too,"Gaara growled.

He held up his tie for her, his gaze burning through her. Shakily, she took it from him, and he bent down for her. She threw the tie around his neck, turning up his collar. She focused on the silky fabric in her fingers.

"How do I look," Gaara smirked when she tightened his tie around his neck.

"Like a redhead," Sakura blushed thinking of his chest hair.

-X-

Throughout dinner, her heart ached with jealousy, her husband by her side once more alien. Kankuro and Kiba spoke loudly, at ease with each other, laughing and nudging at their arms, and chest. Never apart.

Sakura could feel herself falling back as a spectator, laughing too late at their jokes, understanding too late the names they dropped.

She shared nothing with any of them.

The restaurant offered a closeted, velvet atmosphere, a private room where they kneeled on cushions around a low table. The food came and went as a menu chosen by the chef. The sashimi, the cooked fish, and the pickled vegetables were arranged in an elaborate, calculated fashion. Savoury spiced sauces and dips layered the table.

Awkwardly, Sakura watched them eat, trying to imitate them.  

"So, how's married life?" Kankuro asked, and Kiba whistled, creases around his mouth and eyes turning his face wolfish.

Sakura froze.

She lowered her chopsticks to the table, reaching for her wine glass instead. She tasted nothing. The question had been addressed to Gaara.

"We haven't been married long," he said.

"Is he giving you a hard time?" Kankuro nodded toward her, and she smiled feebly, caught-off guard. "Cuz I can kick his ass. He's a terrible wrestler."

Kiba laughed broadly, his eyes twinkling. He nodded along.

"Kankuro..." Gaara scowled.

Kankuro waved at him, ignoring him, as he leaned closer to Sakura.

"'Plus, you know, I've got lots of stories on him."

"I know lots about you too." Gaara warned.

"How about the first time you brought me home?" Kiba chimed in, grinning, and took a sip of wine.

"Oh yeah," Kankuro squinted, building up the tension, as Gaara inhaled sharply next to her. "So I've told this little shit that I want him to play it cool. You know what he does?"

"No..." Sakura glanced side-ways at Gaara.

He swirled the wine in his glass, avoiding her stare.

"Kankuro…" Gaara repeated, his face dark and stiff.

"He glares at Kiba throughout the entire evening," Kankuro knocked on the table to emphasized his words, and Kiba laughed again, shaking his head. "This little shit, I swear. He just stares and stares. And now, I need to go to the bathroom, but I don't want Kiba to stay alone with this little shit. I'm legit about to burst, so I ran for it, praying Kiba likes me enough to survive. I've never done my business so quick, I swear. I didn't even check my eyeliner."

"What happened? What did he say to him?"

Kankuro's dark eye sparkled.

"Nothing! This little shit is showing him my baby pictures."

"I was sweating buckets," Kiba grinned, and he squeezed Kankuro's hand. "This little guy who is awkward as hell, like he's not done with his growth spurt is glaring at me. He never said a word, he just dumped the albums on the table smirking."

"You two have been together a while then?" Sakura asked and she sipped her wine.

She wished she could gulp it down. She wished she could be numb, and drunk, and happy. Happy. When was the last time she had been happy, she wondered, and she forced the glass back on the table, pushing the foot away from her.  

"We're high school sweethearts."

"I see," she said with feigned cheerfulness.

"Yeah, we've always been together," Kankuro glanced at his partner with soft eyes, then smirked. "Except one year in college."

"Do you need to remind me of this every single time?" Kiba whined, and they bumped shoulders playfully.

"You still wince 20 years later. That's on you, hun."

"Just so you know, Inuzuka, I offered to hunt you down and killed you. Kankuro refused," Gaara said dully, and Kankuro choked with laughter after a brief sharp silence.

Sakura widened her eyes in surprise.

They knew this side of him, this violence, and they expected it. Sakura's heart hammered, deafening. She feared him. Him and his heavy quietness, clear eyes that darkened too easily.

"God, he still scares me," Kiba laughed, and it was an echo in Sakura's mind.

Gaara leaned back in his seat, unsmiling, his pale eyes flickering, at once shadows and light.

Kankuro patted Kankuro's back as he hugged him, still laughing.

Sakura lowered her gaze to her wine glass, smiling hollow.

Abruptly, Gaara stood up, and slid open the doors.

"I'll get the bill."

"What!" Kiba nudged his boyfriend. "Sweetie! Tell him no."

"Ahh, let him, hun," Kankuro waved him off and reached for his phone in his pocket.

"I don't like this. We can pay for our own stuff," Kiba growled.

"Me neither, but it's payback time."

Kankuro held his phone up to Sakura.

"What's this?" she smiled politely, taking the phone with two hands formally.

"His baby pics," Kankuro grinned.

[ylizam]

femslash exchange creator letter [currently a placeholder, soon to be real]

Hi, Hello, Hey. First of all–thank you! This is my standard you offered to write one of my fandoms, so you’re obviously a perfect paragon of humanity and all that jazz opening spiel, full of generals likes and dislikes, I’m sure you know the drill. I’ll make sure the fandom specific stuff is up by the time assignments go out. (That said, if you already have an idea about how you want to write about the fandom we match on—wow, I’m jealous! tell me your secrets!—just skip over the fandom stuff and go forth with your bad self.)

Things I like include, but are in no way limited to: fun with POV, fun with linear vs. non-linear storytelling, fun with tone, fun with writing. I really dig character studies, stories that really get into what makes a character tick (and something porny that can get at that is wonderful too), and I like relationships that are hard and prickly and worth fighting for. I like happy endings that don’t feel tacked on or forced. I like doubt, and hope, and theology; I like actors, and directors, and I like the random deity. I like fairy tales. I like (love) romance tropes. Forced to share a bed, marriages of convenience, fake dating, friends-to-lovers, idiots-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers: it’s all like unto catnip. I like interesting turns of phrase, I like the perfect line, I like any story written just for me. If you have any questions about my taste (or lack thereof), feel free to ask @summervillen​ who probably knows my fannish tastes better than I do.

Things that I would prefer you not include—especially gratuitously; there are obviously ways to engage with problematic actions/thoughts/etc. in fiction, but there’s such a fine line there—are as follows: noncon, necrophilia, pedophilia, incest, non-character driven racism/sexism/[all]isms. I also have a pretty big embarrassment squick. A/B/O doesn’t do anything for me. And I’m not really interested in AUs for any of these fandoms: canon divergence is fine, but not-related-to-canon alternate universes really aren’t my preference here.

Babylon 5 Delenn/Susan Ivanova I just ship them post-canon so hard. Later in life chances at love are sort of a thing of mine, and add to that two of my favorite characters ever, well, it’s like this pairing is made for me. That said, if you can find a way to write them during canon (maybe John doesn’t return from Z'ha'dum, maybe Delenn and John just never get together at all, maybe you can think of something I can’t) I’d love that too. Delenn/Shaal Mayan I’d love a story about them that’s really Minbari–that understands that neither of them is human. Something set when they were young and just figuring themselves out (and first love is rarely forever but it feels like it must be) or something set when Mayan visits Babylon 5 in season one or, heck, something set after the series ends. (I have a thing for writing on skin, so if you can find a way to fit that in more power to you.)

ER Jeanie Boulet/Kerry Weaver Elizabeth Corday/Kerry Weaver

Oh, the women of ER, how I love them. While I don’t want a never a medical professional AU, I’m fine with playing loose with canon events for these. (That said, I love that Jeanie can be HIV+ and fall in love, have sex, be happy, so while you don’t have to go deep on that I’d rather you didn’t change it.) I love the idea of post-series Jeanie/Kerry, but would also love something that takes place earlier (does Kerry realizing she’s attracted to Jeanie make her admit she’s a lesbian? do arguments over staffing lead to heated makeouts in the break room?). As for Elizabeth/Kerry, just think of all the sparks. All. Of. Them. I’m not a huge Mark fan, so I’d rather he not be front and center, but I’m fine with you including him as part of Elizabeth’s past if you want to go that route. I’m also fine with ignore canon relationships all together. Go wild, basically. 

Doctor Who Donna Noble/Thirteenth Doctor Donna Noble/River Song

Donna. Deserved. Better. Which is to say: ignore what happened to her, fix what happened to her, however you want to go about it, but make it better. I mean, imagine a world where Donna just shows up and has fun times with whatever Doctor is Doctoring at the time, and when it’s Thirteen they have to pretend to be married for some reason or other and, oh, kissing feels good! Or maybe River meets her during one of those times, and they spend so much time rolling their eyes about the Doctor that they end up in bed! (Or, um, feel free to go a threesome route with Thirteen, Donna, and River. If you want.) I just really do not want a story that is all about how much Donna loses or that ends with her without her memories again or any of that—if you fix it but keep what happened as story-canon, go ahead and have her deal with the fallout if if you want, but I can’t really cope with that being the (eventual or in-story) ending. 

Star Trek: Classic Timeline Beverly Crusher/Vash Kimara Cretak/Kira Nerys

First of all, I don’t know book canon, so include it, don’t include, whatever floats your proverbial boat. Second of all, I am more than happy with “this character lives” stories here. Which is to say, feel free to have Cretak escape/live/etc. Feel free to ignore anything that happens to Bev or Vash or Nerys. I basically think there should be reams and reams of fic about both of these pairings, and yet there is not. For Kira/Cretak I’d especially love something that recognizes that neither of them is human; play around with what we know of their cultures, about how those cultures might clash or unexpectedly mesh, how that can affect a relationship both positively and negatively. And just have fun with Beverly and Vash (and feel free to bring Picard in if you want, either as a friend or a third romantic partner or whatever). And of course I love the crews of the Enterprise and Deep Space Nine, so their reactions and relationships with everyone involved are more than welcome additions (although, again, not necessary).

Game of Thrones Brienne of Tarth/Sansa Stark

Look, the show did everyone dirty. The show did their relationship dirty. The show did writing dirty. Feel free to fix things, either by using the canon ending as a jumping board—maybe it turns out that an all-seeing-knowing-etc. being doesn’t make for a good king and revolt happens! maybe Bran and Sansa meet up for some sort of political thing or another and Brienne’s there as Lord Commander and things happen!—or by going AU (in the for want of a sense, not the everyone’s in space sense). Oh, and this is definitely a pairing where I would dig service kink if you are interested in writing such a thing. Look, it’s right there. 

This is also the only pairing I requested a vid for; I’d love anything that builds on their relationship, maybe plays around with service and fealty and honor and the way different women fight. (I’m sorry; my ability to write about vidding is limited, but know that I’d love anything. I love all sorts of music. I love all sorts of vids.)

[sadbi-hours]

Made for @aosrecweek​ for Throwback Thursday

Oh, wow! Guys…it was like y’all read my mind! I’ve been wanting to make an AoS rec list for a bit now, but I just never had the self-motivation to put myself into gear and do it!

Well, I have now…and I really enjoyed putting this list together! I actually hunted across the internet for some of these fanfic recs, because while my tastes were different back in the day, I still love a good fanfic…and I think that still counts for something. 

Plus, I wasn’t really into saving stories that I really liked back in the day. So fair warning, I haven’t read some of these stories in a really long time and my mini reviews might be a bit off, but I still believe that a good fanfic will stick with ya through the ages. 

I hope you found these fanfics to be just as good as I do and I hope you’ll enjoy reading them too:)

P.S. I still plan to make a whole rec list of other stories I like too…with Ot3+, brotps, and all the het and slash fics that your heart desires! 

i had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain by owlvsdove

It takes Skye two seconds to realize they are seducing her, and another second to realize it is seriously working.

(In which Skye, to her absolute horror, falls in love with the science babies.)

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read it?: 

This story is very personal to me! Because, not only was it the first fanfic for the AoS fandom that I’d ever read..but it also introduced me to the world of ot3′s and the possibility that a poly relationship could actually work not only in fiction but in the real world too. That’s how real this relationship was for me…that’s how beautifully written it was… how completely true to how I’d believe that Fitz, Daisy (or Skye at the time of the story), and Jemma might have started their relationship back in the day, if you know, mainstream network had had the balls to explore that route.

I adore this fic! It still holds a special place for me. I do wish that the author had kept the FF.net version of the story up. There were a few things I loved that had existed in that version that are deleted out in the only existing  one…but that’s just a minor pet peeve of mine. I would still recommend this story if you love fluffy and sexy ot3 action with some minor angst, because Daisy always has to make things complicated for herself!   

Like A Stain Series by AgentSkyeMorse

Skye’s words appeared when she was 17. Trip’s words appeared when he decided to join S.H.I.E.L.D. Hunters heart is broken when finds his Soulmate. Bobbi doesn’t believe in Soulmates… That’s what she tells herself.

Pairing: Bobbi Morse/ Daisy Johnson/ Lance Hunter (aka I don’t know their ship name), and some past Daisy/Triplet 

Why you should read?:.

I don’t really remember much about this series, other than it’s a Canon-divergent post-2 and Soulmate AU. 

I do however remember it being really freaking good! I loved how the characters were not completely OCC like some AU ‘verse’s can make their main characters be. I believed that all these could have really happened if some of Canon’s events had happened differently…and there was such a things as Soulmate universes. 

There are some minor changes made to AoS’s canon, but that’s to be expected. However, I really liked how the writer still made me believe in Bobbi, Lance, and Daisy’s chemistry really well. And it had some really freaking hot sex scenes too, if I remember correctly. 

Mascot by Philote 

In which Skye adopts an orphaned dog, much to the varying delight and chagrin of her teammates.

Pairing: Gen/ No expressed Ships I believe

Why you should read?: 

It’s just a really cute story about the team’s varying reactions to Skye sneaking a little puppy on board the bus. It’s just pure s1 team fluff, and it actually has weary but protective Ward that I think is adorable…before you know, Ward became the evil asshole that he is. 

If you just want team fluff with very little angst, than this is the story for you! 

the heart is hard to translate (all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling) by awkwardspiritanimals

Leopold Fitz is going to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if it means turning their household items into deadly weapons.

The other three just want him to get some sleep.

(tripfitzskimmons polyamory)

Pairing: Tripfitzskimmons 

Why you should read?:

A post season 1 Ot4, where Fitz feels helpless because of his brain injury and tries to help in the only way he knows how and still can…by making everyday objects into deadly weapons…

Trip, Jemma, and Daisy try to be understanding, but would like it very much if Fitz would stopped turning their possessions into weapons. 

It’s very sweet little ficlet, but does have some Fitz angst. So beware of that.  

love letters to a ghost by arsonistlullabye 

Skye is haunted the ghost of a boy who wasn’t strong enough. Fitz is haunted by a girl who makes him want to be stronger.

Pairing: Fitzdaisy/ Fitzskye

Why you should read?: 

This story is set in an alternate AoS ‘verse, where Fitz couldn’t handle the pressure and loneliness of being one of the youngest to attend S.H.I.E.L.D. academy…and trigger warning, kills himself and begins to haunt the Academy as a ghost.  

Years later, Skye attends and seeing her go down the same path as him, does everything he can to help her become her best self..while also slowly falling in love with her. I don’t want to spoiler anymore, but it’s a really good…but i’ll be honest and say that depending on how you view it, it might not have the happiest ending, but I believe it fit perfectly with the story.   

Take me away to some place real by Florchis 

After the Framework, Fitz decides to go see his mother for a few days and takes Jemma and a reluctant Daisy with him. Things are not easy, but helped by three late-night conversations, Daisy learns that they can choose to not make them hard.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

I feel like I’m cheating a bit by rec-ing this fic, since it’s a prompt of mine gifted to me through a @aosficnet2 exchange a few years back, but where Florchis decided to take the idea far exceeded my expectations. This story…left me speechless.It made me cry. It was…just so beautiful and hopeful… yet bittersweet. 

Nothing’s sugar coated…or wrapped up neatly in a little box in this story. They’re all broken by what they experienced in the Framework. Daisy’s left with old and new insecurities to wade through, Fitz can’t always tell the difference between Reality and the Framework, and Jemma’s just trying to hold everybody and herself together…and a trip to see Fitz’s amazing Mom doesn’t automatically fix everything.

But it makes their traumas more manageable…It makes them want to try to be better, not only in their relationship but as people as well. Oh, man! You have to read this story…especially if you were left broken yourself by season 4. Seriously, go read this! 

I couldn’t in good conscious rec one of Florchis’s post-framework stories without rec-ing one of @theclaravoyant. You can go read it here if you like!  

six birthdays skye had by zauberer_sirin

Birthdays are the worst. And hers are not even real.

Pairing:  Skoulson

Why you should read?:

Alright! Hear me out! I, myself , as in me now, in no way ships Coulson and Daisy in a romantic relationship, but when I first started out reading AoS fanfics, I was experimenting…trying to figure out my tastes and what I shipped and liked romantically. 

And I can admit that I’ve read other Skoulson fics in my time, but this fanfic is the only one that I’ll willing recommended…because the romantic aspect of Skoulson’s relationship was left ambiguous, at least to me. It was more of a character study of how Skye has always views and copes with her birthdays through the years and the one time, she actually liked being born…and even though, I hate it, her relationship with Coulson has a lot to do with her acceptance of it. 

But I wouldn’t blame anybody for skipping over this one, I haven’t read it since I read it the first time just because I would have to stomach the romantic Skoulson in it…but I feel like it’s still worth recommending. It’s a pretty good Skye/Daisy character piece.   

Along the Way by theclaravoyant

When Shield’s two youngest prodigies shake hands for the very first time, their expressions are exactly as you might expect for two people who know they’ve just met their soul mates. But for this particular pair there’s something else as well.

Confusion.

-

Sometimes finding your soulmate(s) is not as simple as it seems. Then again, sometimes what we spend most of our time looking for, has been right under our noses all along.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

A FSK Soulmate AU that went a long way to redefining my outlook on the trope. Fitz and Simmons’ quest to discover who their other soulmate is and what the weird soul mark they have means is really well done and completely in character with how Fitzsimmons are as individuals and as a unit… 

It’s just a very well written AU that’s I’d recommended anytime of the day. You should read it.   

and when we burst, begin again by  owlvsdove

May gets hurt in the line of duty. Jemma tries to fill her shoes.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

If you haven’t noticed by now, there is a pretty consistent theme to my fanfic recs…and that’s the hurt/comfort or heavy angst trope and this one fits that bill to a tee.

Set in a post season 1 Canon-Divergence world I believe, where I think Ward really injures May and Jemma take it upon herself to become the team’s glue…and how it slowly chips away at her emotional sanity. It’s really well written and I think you guys will like it…if you don’t mind the heavy angst too. 

break my heart into pieces on the floor by hpfreakster

Months earlier she had stood there ready to give her life for them, now she stands there pointing a gun at Skye and Fitz.

Pairing:  BioSpecialist with a side order of Fitzskye

Why you should read?: 

An alternate end to season 1, a role reversal with Jemma being the Hydra agent who betrayed the team, A flawed but ultimately goodhearted Ward, and a possibly triple agent Simmons…? What more could you ask for in a fascinating, alternate plot twist and development? 

I know some can’t even read about Ward as a main character in any fashion, but I really loved this fic…how it was done…how Ward was portrayed. He wasn’t perfect…or really even likable…but he loved his team and would do anything for them, even haunting down the woman he loves to avenge Fitz and Skye. 

I think that’s a really cool story;)  

He’s Not A Monkey by  AgentMaryMargaretSkitz

“He’s Leo. Fitz. The dog is Fitz.”

When an 084 explodes, Skye sees that Fitz has turned into a puppy. Some Biospecialist and pre-Skitz.

Pairing:  Another Biospecialist with some minor Fitzskye

Why you should read?:

Wow! Another fluffy dog story rec! I really need to find my AoS fluff in other tropes! LOL! 

But who can resist Fitz being turned into a adorable freaking puppy…who adores Skye and Jemma…and keeps biting Ward in various places I think! I couldn’t! Haha! 

stretch your arms around me by  Conifer

With them, Skye learned to love.

She learned how to give it just as much as she learned to feel it. It was abstract and solid and all-consuming, a mess that left her feeling dizzy and weightless. It was impossible to put a finger on but easy enough to place; she knew the heart-pounding feeling when she had it.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?: 

A kind of a sad Fitzskimmon fic, where Skye knows that her relationship with Fitzsimmons will come to an end someday…because well, according to Skye, it has to. In her life, happiness never lasts for long…but she’s going learn from and enjoy her time together with them for as long as it lasts. 

It’s a bittersweet, but heartwarming fic that fits right in my alley. Go ahead and read it…but be prepared to have your heart broken.  

The zeroh law of thermodynamics by  Florchis

Fitz and Simmons are each other’s soulmates. Daisy isn’t. Fitz and Simmons don’t care. Daisy does. Sort of. Or: Jemma wants them to tell her their fantasies, Daisy wants a tattoo and Fitz wants to be a gentleman. (They all succeed.)

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?: 

I couldn’t rec @theclaravoyant‘s Soulmate AU without recommending @florchis!

This story showed me that love comes in many forms and variations…and just because Daisy isn’t Fitzsimmons’ soulmate doesn’t stop them from pursuing a meaningful romantic triad with her. Of course, like any real relationship, there are trail and errors…misunderstanding and miscommunications…but they never let that keep them down because they love each other and will do anything to make their unconventional (in every sense of the word) relationship work. 

It’s a really good Soulmate AU story. You should read it…along with @florchis‘s FSK stories here and here. I just love the different and interesting ways she makes the FSK ship play out and begin. 

Apples and Dandelions by  theclaravoyant

After Fitz’ father sends a number of threatening messages and an ultimatum to Shield, Fitz decides it’s time to confront his father. As it turns out, the apple can fall as far from the tree as it likes, especially when there’s someone there to catch it.

Pairing: Fitzsimmons with Fitz & Daisy brotp 

Why you should read?: 

I know that I didn’t really rec manyGen or brotp stories on this list…and I’ll be fair with y’all, but I really do view the majority of my bromance’s in Television and Films as romantic relationships too..and most of the time, I’d rather read shipper fics than purely brotp ones. 

But this fic was so good that I could not share it on my list…but I won’t bore you with the details. It’s a theclaravoyant fic and I think that they’re all amazing.  

[i-stan-too-much]

Sope Fic Recs

Here are some of my favorite Sope (Yoonseok) fics, because I’ve read a LOT and I’d like to share some of them with you :-

[ these are in no particular order and there are also some others I’ve wanted to share but unfortunately, they’ve been deleted :( ]

* - omg, this is very good

**- wow, this is a work of art

***- this is so good to the point that I’ve reread it so many times and yet I still fall in love with it just like the first time

1. Darling!*** By margotty (orphan_account)

— Hoseok is an aspiring writer who keep notes about a certain boy with soft black hair, lashes that feather in the wind and a nose that twitches when he's pissed.

Hoseok wakes one day to find that boy, the one he'd so often referred to as "Darling" is in his kitchen, making pancakes in Hoseok's pajama clothes.

(Basically Yoongi is a figment of Hoseok's imagination and he's come to life.)

//

This fic is one of those fics that when you just read the first sentence, you know that it’s going to be a good one. The plot is especially well thought out, the idea behind this fic is really cool, from the way that Hoseok first deals with the fact that there’s this ‘stranger’ that’s come to life from his notes, to how he learns to welcome Yoongi pretty soon after and learns to love him in such a short period of time. I also really like this fic’s ‘soft aesthetic’ like when Yoongi and Hoseok ride on Hoseok’s bike all over town, and how Yoongi is described with a certain delicacy. The first time I read this fic was on a school night - or shall I say day, at 3:00 am and after I was done, I had to go and reread it.

2. i can be ur pretty boy (i’ll wear a skirt for u)** By ohh

sugarmin, from what Hoseok gathers, is a goddamn tease. His profile picture is the lower half of his face, dewy cheeks, button nose, and a dangly earring hanging from one of his ears visible, but what puts the icing on top of the cake is this: his pretty pink mouth, suckling delicately on a heart-shaped lollipop. i have a gun in my bag, his bio says. Angel or devil, Hoseok doesn’t know, but he craves.

And oh, how Hoseok craves.

or, a story of new neighbours, boba teas, hidden identities, and riding the penny board under the summer sun.

//

This fic has two stars because it incorporates smut with a nice plot. Again I love the ‘soft aesthetic’ vibes that Yoongi gives off. I also like how Yoongi shows a more feminine side, and how both characters aren’t subjected to toxic masculinity. The fic itself is great, Hoseok kind of has a crush on this instagram model, the model being Yoongi, and Yoongi ends up moving to be Hoseok’s next door neighbor, and the rest is history.

3. Canvas** By Daebon

The paintbrush is poised above skin, ready to continue its work, but Hoseok finds that he's suddenly in far too deep. Now, the man beneath him has become the artist, coloring Hoseok’s world in vivid shades of passion.

His trembling hand lets go, brush clattering to the floor, splattering paint.

“Yoongi, I want you,” he whispers, voice low.

The elder stares back at him with a peculiar expression. “I already agreed to let you paint me.”

“No,” Hoseok rasps out, shaking. “Yoongi, I want you.”

———

Haunted by strange dreams, Yoongi begins to question the blurry line between right and wrong. Hoseok has the perfect life, but yearns for a muse other than his provocative boyfriend. Unfortunately, these troubled men find each other before they find themselves.

//

This fic has the potential of getting three stars, but the reason I gave it two was for the ending (this fic contains angst.) Now that being said, this fic is on a whole other level of literary techniques, the writer could even be a bestselling author, with how well this is written. Even if you don’t like angst, I’d recommend you give this one a go, because of how well written it is.

4. Love Yourself*** By endearings

It begins when he’s ten.

“Yoongi-ah,” his brother says, eyes glinting meanly. “You look a little chubby these days. Maybe don’t eat the ice cream, yeah?”

Yoongi puts the spoon down; curls into himself, drawing his knees to his chest despite the countless times he’s been told to sit properly at the dining table. “It’s just--just one bite, hyung; It’s not a lot.”

“Suit yourself.”

//

This fic will make you cry!! I put this one on here because of the message. You can tell that Yoongi has been insecure, and his family didn’t really help him feel better about himself, but Hoseok did. And maybe I put this one on here because I can relate personally to it (my best friend has been dealing with insecurities and body image for a long time now) but I still think that you should read this. I feel like it will really open your eyes. Disclaimer 99.9999% you’ll cry when you read this, so I don’t advise to read it in a public place.

5. The Diner** By psychojimin

"He tried really hard not to stare when that new employee came out of the kitchen for a second time. He tried really hard not to sniff when he passed by. There was just something about the man that made something stir inside of Hoseok, that made a comforting warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. The coffee in his mug had seemed to be cooled down enough and he took a sip, but the still scorching drink almost felt refreshing against his heated tongue."

//

I kind of debated putting this one on here, because I know a lot of people aren’t really interested in a/b/o, or are uncomfortable with smut. If you are, then you can go ahead and skip this one, but I put this one down for the people that have been looking for good ‘Alpha Hoseok’ and ‘Omega Yoongi’ fics. Not to mention, the smut in this is really good, but there’s still a plot.

6. Under the Same Sky*** By Lastwhalien For Mia95 [on going]

"The sky he wakes up to is not his sky."

One night ends as another begins.

Yoongi and Hoseok are half a world a way, living very different lives and yet they are intertwined when they begin to share their senses, irreversibly connecting their worlds.

Hoseok is the son of Durumi, not just a criminal empire but the empire, it is the machine that turns the world, manipulating money, world leaders, crime, and the rise and fall of power. He's good at his job, he was born for it, raised for it, but a coup has given his father the perfect chance to remove Hoseok from power, trapped in his apartment he's restlessly waiting.

Yoongi has escaped his past carrying the guilt of his mistakes he has rebuilt his life near the sea where he works on recreating the world as best he can, His life is calm, removed from the chaos it once held, but it still follows; a name he can never have, a family he can never truly be a part of.

One day they start to share their worlds, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, to taste, to be two souls, two bodies, bound.

//

This one is so good!! Yoongi and Hoseok start off as complete strangers who appear in each other’s dreams. Then they realize that they can communicate with each other, and read each other’s thoughts. This one isn’t complete yet, but it’s so interesting and I can’t wait for the next chap. The plot is very interesting and the writer knows how to thicken the plot without dragging it out too much. The suspense will eat you alive!! Whether you want to start this fic right away or wait until it’s completed is totally up to you though.

7. wake up (to the sound of your fleeting heart)*** By inkingbrushes

Yoongi walks into Hoseok's dreams and it's surprising, sure, but it's a surprise that Hoseok welcomes.

//

This one too, is one of those that makes you wonder, how do people come up with such things?! This one is one of the older ones, and yet I still remember the first time I read it and how in awe I was, that someone wrote this and that they were THAT GOOD. Ever since, this writer has been one of my favorites and go to for bts fics.

8. stay (a little longer)** By ineedmygirl

That part of Hoseok that shut down when Yoongi left, that huge gaping space left in his brain and in his chest - it shut down to protect him

It was the part of Hoseok that knew, deep down, all along, that he was in love with Yoongi. And it knew that if Hoseok realized it back then, the heartbreak would devastate him beyond repair.

And now, that part of Hoseok is awake again.

or, Hoseok's best friend disappeared two years ago without a trace. They run into each other again in a seedy hotel in the middle of nowhere, and somehow Hoseok convinces him to join him and his friends on a road trip.

//

This one is a more recent one, so if you’ve read the ones I’ve listed above there still might be a chance that you haven’t read this one. This one is perfect for when you just need a casual fix to read when you’re home alone on a weekend and you’re bored and just snuggled up in your bed all warm. When I read this one, it just made me go aww. And when I reread it, it also made me go aww.

9. we’ll be looking for sunlight* By inkingbrushes

Yoongi thinks Hoseok's got a smile that can rival the sun.

(Or: the one where they meet during a cold winter night and Yoongi has no idea the boy with the million-dollar smile can turn everything he touches into ice.)

//

This one is the Jack Frost au you didn’t know you needed. I love all things Disney and Dreamworks and this fic was no exception. After typing all of this out, I questioned whether this one should really be on here, but why not. Who doesn’t like Disney or Dreamworks am I right?

10. The Things Worth Going To War For*** By softlyblue

“Spice and silk and trade and cloth. These are the things one goes to war over, but in my heart of hearts, I know they are not worth it.”

- quoted from a letter penned by the Crown Prince to his lover, at the end of the Southern War

*

“It’s got ears,” says the man that’s choking him. Hoseok. “Look, look. It’s got - like a cat.”

“Let me-” Yoongi wheezes, phlegm in the back of his throat, stars in his eyes, “Let me-”

“So Jungyoo wasn’t lying.”

Hoseok pushes harder. Yoongi realises faintly that he isn’t even touching the ground; Hoseok is holding him against the wall, Yoongi’s feet dangling uselessly a foot from the floor. “Why are you here?”

“He’s got the house markings,” Seokjin stretches over Hoseok’s shoulder and presses a thumb to the centre of Yoongi’s forehead, smearing the makeup there. The warpaint. “Maybe-”

“But why’s he got ears?”

Yoongi claws ever-more desperately. (Oh, if Jeongguk could see him now - he’d be a disgrace.)

“Hoseok-ah, I think you’re choking it.”

//

This one is also really good. I really like the relationship between Yoongi and Hoseok. Both start off hating each other at first, but slowly turn to acquaintances, then to friends, and finally to lovers. I remember this fic used to get updated every Sunday, and I would look forward to the end of the week just for this one. Disclaimer though, there are A LOT of ocs (original characters) so if you get confused a lot or are a little slow, you may want to at least skim through the previous chapters for names to have an idea of what’s going on (trust me this is from experience, I had to reread the entire thing)

11. Ripped At Every Edge, But We’re A Masterpiece** By superrunnaturall

Min Yoongi and his muse, Jung Hoseok.

//

I really like this fic, because you can really see the contrast between Yoongi and Hoseok’s background and where they came from. This one is also pretty old, but there might be a chance that you haven’t read it yet. The fact that Yoongi is a painter is a really good bonus might I add.

12. the prince’s vivisected* By cherryfluffyfuzzysocks [ongoing]

while the rest of the household worries over namjoon's strange behavior following prince jungkook's birthday, yoongi sets his mind on a different task.

he wants hoseok back in the house, whatever that takes. five years of enslavement together was horrific, but one month apart is unbearable. as yoongi prepares to work himself dead, the past continues to haunt the present.

**second work within a continuous series

//

This fic isn’t even my favorite of the series, but I added it because I think that this entire series is SO COOL. The idea of a kind of dystopian universe, where all humans are controlled by aliens has been overdone, but not when Jungkook’s the alien, that’s controlling everyone. I think that kind of adds a special touch especially when you see that even though the rest of bangtan are slaves to Jungkook (minus Hoseok) each one of them is kind of struggling with something different, and this series is covering exactly that. Each member (or two) will cover a fic and even though not all the fics will be sope I think that this one is still a must. Disclaimer, Jungkook is a huge asshole, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

[jeremichal-archive]

oooh gosh combine 40 and 28 for Jeremwood? you're a blessing thanks love

carve your marks into my door; feel free to ruin the wood

40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au28. knocking on the wrong door au

honestly, this is the first jeremwood fic i’ve ever written and i can’t believe it’s taken me this long to write something for them. Also, an alternative title for this could be “Work Through Your Issues Like Adults Please Boys” because honestly.

Pairing: JeremwoodWarnings: Swearing

On the inside of his elbow, written in small black cursive lettering, is the key to how Ryan’s going to survive this next month.

Every so often, he’ll scratch at it; framing the black letters in red lines, doing his best not to wear away the words. Thinking about it now, it probably wasn't the best place to put it, but at four in the morning, while the cold air bit at his fingertips, it seemed like his only option. Plus, it didn't help that his careful planning had been thrown into the wind the second he’d heard the sound of his landlord’s- fuck, ex-landlord's- feet against the cold concrete landing. So, while this might not be the best plan, it’s the only one he’s got.

An address, or, more accurately, Geoff’s address; scribbled down in haste, copied from an old party invite from Geoff’s last birthday. An address, that based on his sources, Geoff hasn’t stayed at in months.

Fourth floor, just right of the stairs, room 408.

Ryan sighs. How Geoff can afford to rent out two damn apartments is beyond him, but then again, he should just be fucking thankful that he can. Doesn't matter that the last time he saw Geoff, the other man was fifty grand in debt and seriously considering selling an organ on the black market.

A lot of things can change in ten months, Ryan guesses, picking up his pace as he climbs the stairs, especially since he’s enough proof of that himself.

It’s on the third floor that Ryan’s mind drifts off. His boots thud with each step he takes and it’s almost scary how close the sound is to that of gunshots. He wonders if this neighbourhood is as bad as his last one, wonders if flashing police lights and ambulance sirens will become another constant in his life. Or maybe, he’ll be able to sleep through a full night here.

Either way, though, he can’t help but wonder what it says about him that he no longer jumps at the sound of gunshots, whether they're real or not.

He’s glad to be rid of the stairs when he finally makes it to the fourth floor, so of course, it's just his luck that trips on the last damn step. His hands blindly grab for something to steady him, but there’s nothing but empty air and an old bannister around to keep him from breaking his neck, so he ends up stumbling. He catches himself before he goes down, but something twists in his ankle and a sharp current of pain shoots up his leg. He lets out a hiss, gingerly testing his ability to put his weight on it as he steadies himself. There’s an embarrassed blush warming his cheeks, but he thanks God for small miracles though, because at least there’s no one out in the hallway when he hobbles out of the stairwell.

He stops by the door for a moment and rests his palm against the drywall, giving his traitorous foot a moment to rest. A small part of him considers leaning his forehead against the wall as well, but he's smart enough to think better of it. It's an apartment building, and a cheap one at that, they're not really known for their cleanliness. Who knows how many germs this place is hiding.

He pulls his hand back, wiping it against his thigh like it’ll make a difference.

There’s something strange about being back here, almost like he doesn’t belong. But then again, he doesn’t. The sudden urge to just yell overtakes him, and he barely manages to hold it in. He wants to test the echo of the hall, wants to see if he can get another tenant to come outside. He just wants to do something. It feels like he hasn't done fucking anything since he left college, and it burns him from the inside out.

But instead, he settles; mumbling out a low, “I really hope they haven't cut the power yet,” as he straightens himself out, tentatively adding a bit of pressure to his ankle.

Habit makes him swipe at his nose, looking for blood where it’s not. He huffs, staring down at his clean fingers with something akin to disappointment. Honestly, he’s not all too sure if that’s actually the right emotion, but either way, he should really stop doing that.

There's no blood there anymore.

Ignoring the throbbing in his ankle, he pushes forward, moving down the hallway with careful steps. His eyes scan the rooms, and when he catches sight of it- a small unassuming wooden door with what looks like a crack running through it from the base up- Ryan’s heart skips a beat.

Deep down, he knows Geoff won't mind. Hell, he’s probably not even going to notice that Ryan’s been there at all, even if he does care. But still, Ryan can't help but worry. It's not as if they’ve really kept in contact in the recent months, so it’s not like Ryan would really blame him. All he can really do is promise himself that he’ll be gone by the end of the month, all the while silently hoping that he’s not just lying to himself.

He hesitates in front of the door when he gets to it, wondering if he should knock first just to make sure. It should be empty, he know’s it’s empty, but it would be awfully awkward if he happened to pick the lock just to find Geoff in his underwear on the other side waiting for him. So he knocks- three quick raps against the wood- and starts counting to ten, just to be safe.

When he reaches seven, the door swings open.

It’s cliché. God, it’s so fucking cliché, but then again, Ryan’s only ever been like that around him and it’s hard to be original when his heart is clawing its way out of his throat- so when he meets Jeremy’s gaze, time just seems to stop. Two and a half years. Two and a half years since they last saw each other- not that Ryan’s been keeping track- and he can’t help but latch onto the fact that Jeremy looks so fucking different now.

Lighter, happier, stronger, he’s fucking bald for Christ’s sake; Ryan can’t take his eyes off of him.

The thought as to why Jeremy’s in Geoff’s apartment doesn't even cross his mind, rather, he just stares, because that’s all he can really do. Which leaves it up to Jeremy to break the awkward silence that’s settled over them.

“I- You- What are you doing here, Ryan?” he asks and Ryan realises he’d forgotten how his voice had sounded. He wants Jeremy to talk again.

“Geoff’s… I was…” he frowns when Jeremy raises a confused eyebrow at him, “what are you doing in Geoff’s apartment?”

“What? What are you talking about, this is my apartment, Ryan.” He runs a hand over his shaved head and Ryan knows that if he still had hair, he’d be tugging at the strands. “Geoff’s is down the hall, I think, or at least, it used to be. I haven’t… talked to him in a while,” he admits, rather sheepishly.

“Neither have I, really,” Ryan mumbles back, shuffling on the spot. Changing the pressure on his ankle sends a spark of pain shooting up his leg, and he hisses through clenched teeth. He’s got no real reason to keep standing there, to be honest. He should just say goodbye and leave things there, but he really doesn't want to.

While they didn't part as enemies, they weren’t really friends either, and Ryan wants to fix that.

“How have you been?” he asks and Jeremy shrugs, slipping his finger inside the belt loop of his jeans. He rests his hip against the door frame and Ryan’s glad to have his full attention.

“I’ve been fine, Ryan.”

“You still running?”

A shadow passes across Jeremy's face. “Uh, no. Not anymore.” He doesn't elaborate, and Ryan doesn't push.

“Ah, okay…” he mumbles, hating how awkward things are between them. He wants to go back in time to when Jeremy would tell him everything, back to when they’d spend whole days tangled up in bed, lazily kissing every inch of the other that they could reach. Seeing Jeremy again, he realises that he hasn't quite moved on as much as he thought he had.

“Go anything published yet?” Jeremy asks, and Ryan can't help but flinch. No, he wants to hiss, of course fucking not. You were all right, so I gave up trying, but he holds his tongue though because his bitterness is his own to keep. “I won't lie and say I haven't been keeping an eye out,” Jeremy continues and Ryan’s heart skips a beat, “you were writing that, uh, that sci-fi book, right? when we… uh-” he shakes his head- “what I mean is, have you finished it?”

“Nah, I think attempted two drafts of it before I realised it was a lost cause.” That's a lie, he tossed it in the trash five days after Jeremy moved out. “It was a waste of time, anyway,” he mutters.

“But, you loved that damn book,” Jeremy replies and Ryan just shrugs.

“You loved running, but I guess love isn’t really enough, is it?” He replies, and Jeremy blanches. He doesn't mean his words to be that poetic, especially when they hit so close to home when it comes to what they were, but then again, Ryan’s always had a way with words. Just not enough to make a living from them, apparently.

Jeremy’s gaze drops to the floor at his words, and Ryan realises he’s put his foot in his mouth. He waits for the lad to tell him goodbye, to close the battered door in his face and leave him standing alone in the hallway, but he doesn't. He looks back up at Ryan, chewing on his bottom lip. “Why were you looking for Geoff, Rye?” he asks and the nickname is unexpected.

He doesn't know what makes him tell the truth. Maybe it’s because he’s trying to trade a secret for a secret; maybe he’s just sick of pretending everything is alright.

Or maybe, it’s because he wants to interact with Jeremy like they used to. Wants to be close again; wants Jeremy to trust him again.

“I know he doesn't live there anymore, I planned to- I wanted to crash there for a month. Just until everything… gets… better?” he mumbles, but it comes out as more of a question than he hoped. Jeremy watches him for a moment, brown eyes seeing right through him, and then he sighs.

“I guess we’re both a bit fucked up, aren’t we?” he whispers, but before Ryan can reply, he steps back and retreats inside. He leaves the door open though, and Ryan takes it as an invitation to come inside. He follows after Jeremy, eyes skimming Jeremy’s apartment as he walks just so he doesn’t have to look at the lad himself. He feels like he’s trespassing, pushing his way into Jeremy’s home even though he’s already had his chance, and even worse, lost it.

“Do you want a drink?” Jeremy asks and Ryan snaps his gaze up to look at him. “I have diet coke, if you’re, uh, still into that…” he mumbles, fidgeting with the can in his hands. Ryan nods, shuffling over towards the kitchen bench before hovering there awkwardly. Jeremy passes him the can, but it’s obvious in the way he deliberately avoids accidentally touching Ryan.

“So…” he begins, staring down at the counter and Ryan wonders why he even bothered to invite him in if his presence makes him so uncomfortable. He’s seconds away from muttering his goodbyes- heart squeezing in his chest- when Jeremy continues. “Is it bad if I… if I say that I’ve missed you, Ryan?” he mumbles, glancing up at him, “I know you’ve probably m-” he cuts himself off, “I mean, it’s been what? Two years?”

“Two and a half,” Ryan corrects and Jeremy snorts.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s just… whatever, doesn't matter.” He shakes his head, thrumming his fingers against the bench. There’s another moment of awkward silence between them, one that Ryan doesn't really know how to break, but for some reason, he still tries anyway.

“I’ve missed you too, Jeremy,” he replies, and Jeremy watches him for a moment through the corner of his eye.

“Why’d you wanna stay at Geoff’s place, Rye?” he asks, and Ryan sighs.

“I got kicked out of my apartment,” he replies, shrugging and Jeremy frowns. “It’s either Geoff’s or I… yeah. I’m screwed either way, I guess.”

“Oh, that fucking sucks,” Jeremy replies and Ryan huffs out a bitter laugh. Now that’s an understatement, he thinks, taking a sip of his coke. Jeremy’s eyes track his movement, following the can up to his lips and then back down again when he sets it on the bench. Habit strikes at him again, and when he swipes at his nose, Jeremy rears back like he’s been hit. Ryan only just catches the frantic look in his eyes before Jeremy's turning away and he moves without thinking, leaning over the counter to grab his hand to stop him from grabbing for the tissue box behind him.

“Stop, Jeremy stop. I’m fine. See?” he holds out his hand for Jeremy to inspect, “no blood.”

It takes a moment, but Ryan watches him relax.

Jeremy lets out a humourless laugh; neither of them let their hands drop. “Sorry. Do you… do you still get them?” he asks and Ryan shakes his head.

“Nah, not anymore. They changed my medication,” he whispers. Slowly, carefully, he starts stroking his thumb against the skin of Jeremy’s palm, tracing small shapes into his skin. Jeremy's gaze falls to their hands, and Ryan hesitates for a moment, movement stopping, but when Jeremy doesn't say anything he starts again.

“I got into a car accident, Ryan” he mumbles, and the suddenness of his words make Ryan flinch. “I got, uh, T-boned, about a year ago? This asshole ran a red light, hit me at 50 miles per hour. Nearly fucking killed me,” he whispers and Ryan’s stomach drops.

He doesn't like that, he really doesn't like that. Just the idea alone of Jeremy dying makes his skin crawl, but what makes it worse, is that he probably never would have found out. Dodging Geoff’s calls, ignoring Jack’s ‘surprise’ visits; Gavin pretending he doesn’t exist and Michael to busy to care about how badly Ryan’s fucking up his life.

They’d forget to tell him. They’d forget to fucking tell him that his ex was dead, and Ryan would just continue on, as if the best thing he’d ever had wasn’t gone.

He wants to say something, wants to tell Jeremy just how much it hurts to ever imagine something like that happening to him, but Jeremy just keeps talking. “But, uh, it didn’t,” he huffs, a bitter sound, “it just fucked up my right leg, pinned it and I can’t tell you the medical terms they used to explain it- cause at the time I wasn’t- I wasn’t in a good place, Rye- but I can say, it was really bad,” he whines and Ryan’s up and moving around the kitchen counter within an instant.

He grabs for Jeremy and tugs him towards his chest and Jeremy goes easily, melting against him. He presses his face against Ryan’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut and Ryan rubs long strokes up and down his back, holding onto him for dear life.

“Can’t run anymore. Fucking- took me months of physical therapy just to walk again, but when it comes to running, I just… I can’t manage it for more than a few minutes.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “I hate it, Ryan. I hate it so fucking much. I feel so useless, so fucking angry all the time. Sometimes I run just so it hurts, just so I feel like I’m doing something.”

Ryan knows that feeling. He understands exactly what Jeremy’s trying to say. The thing is though, Ryan understands because he’s a homeless, failed author and not because he sustained life threatening injuries. So he can’t help but feel guilty for comparing himself to Jeremy, because really, Ryan’s fine.

Yeah. He’s… fine.

He squeezes Jeremy tighter and holds his tongue, because he knows him well enough to know that Jeremy doesn’t want his pity. He doesn't want his platitudes or his apologies.

He just wants Ryan.

Which, when he thinks about it, is the complete opposite of what he wanted when they broke up two and a half years ago. Mutual, he reminds himself, it was a mutual break-up.

Heh, he doesn’t think either of them really believe that anymore.

“You’ll be able to run again,” he whispers, “I know it’s daunting and terrifying, and it makes you feel like you’re being pulled under, but fucking hell, you were made to run Jeremy. It’s in your blood, and while it might take some time, you’ll be able to run again.”

Jeremy’s fingers grab for his arm, nails biting into his skin as he clutches at Ryan desperately. “You say it like it’s so easy, Ryan.”

“I’m not saying that tomorrow you’ll be able to miraculously get up and run a marathon again, but one day-”

“One day, huh?” Jeremy huffs, pulling back from Ryan. Something like deja vu sparks in Ryan’s mind and his stomach drops. “Fuck off. I don’t need this shit from you of all people. Where’s your book, Ryan? You said, and I remember, of course I fucking remember, that you were going to, and I quote, ‘make it’” he spits, finger quoting his words.

Ryan takes a step back, and then another, putting distance between them. He keeps his mouth shut, because the last time he didn’t and he ended up fucking everything up.

“Did you make it Ryan? Did you do everything you wanted to do? All the stuff that of-fucking-course you couldn't do with me. Was it worth it?” he hisses, closing the distance that Ryan tried to put between them. He glares up at him, but Ryan can see the hurt that’s hiding behind his gaze.

That somehow makes things worse.

“No. No, I didn’t make it, Jeremy,” he breaks, voice cracking. He sucks in a deep breath and tries to give himself a moment to settle, but Jeremy doesn’t let him.

“Was it worth it?” he repeats, not breaking eye contact.

“I threw that book out about a week after you left,” Ryan spits, clenching his hands into fists by his side. He’s so damn tired of holding it all in, he’s so damn tired of pretending that their mutual breakup wasn’t entirely his fault. “I never finished it. Everything I write nowadays doesn’t make it past the first five pages and I can’t write romance scenes without thinking of you.”

Jeremy lets out an exasperated breath. “God, you’re an idiot. I really don’t understand you, Ryan,” he replies, shaking his head.

His hands move quickly, gravitating towards his head; he lets out a strangled sound, spinning sharply to lean his elbows against the counter, turning away from Ryan. He ducks his head, fingers interlocking as he sucks in a ragged breath.

“You fought me for that book, Ryan. I mean, it was your novel, I wasn’t going to stop you from writing it,” he replies, shrugging helplessly, “but you just didn’t stop. How many times- how many fucking times did you chose that damn thing over me, just to throw it out!” he hisses, slamming his hands down on the counter.

“You were so much more than I was, Jeremy. You were running marathons, and you were training for the Olympics, and I was working in the tech department and barely scraping out a couple hundred words each week on a book that was everything I had. I was scared,” he spits, “I was so scared, and jealous, and envious because you were going to achieve your dream and I wasn’t-”

“And that’s my fault, then is it?!” he yells, body pulling taut like a live wire. Ryan doesn’t need to touch him to know he’s buzzing with electricity.

“No, God no, Jeremy-” he tries, but Jeremy’s not having it.

“It is, of course it is. I was the horrible needy boyfriend desperate for your attention. I was immature, always kept pushing for something. ‘Let’s go on a run together, Ryan!’” he mocks, and Ryan feels sick, “‘Sign up for the marathon with me!’ ‘Let me read a chapter of your book’ ‘Pretend you still love me for a moment and let's do something together, I’ll let you decide what.’” He heaves out a breath, meeting Ryan’s gaze directly, “Fuck me, right? For wanting to include you in my life.”

“It’s not like that, Jeremy,” he pleads, and this time it’s his turn to close the distance between them.

“Yeah, it is. And now I’m nothing, no career, no future, just me and my fucked up legs,” he says and the anger drains out of him slowly. Ryan watches him curl in on himself, unshed tears in his eyes as he rubs at his face. “You must love it, knowing that I’m never going to be better than you.”

“I’m not, I’m not better than you. I’m a shit person, Jeremy. I got so overwhelmed-”

“Please don’t,” he mutters, resting a palm against the counter, “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are, Ryan. It’s done. I don’t care. I think you should go.”

“Just listen, please. Just give me one chance to talk, and then I’ll go if you still want me too, I swear,” he begs, and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut. After a few seconds, he opens them again and sighs; Ryan doesn’t risk wasting the opportunity.

“I got so overwhelmed with the idea of failing,” he begins, “that I took it all out on you. I’m not going to make excuses, Jeremy. I was an idiot, I handled everything wrong and at the time, I blamed it all on you. I was so hung up on the idea that I was thirty-four and going nowhere fast, that when I saw you succeeding, it felt like you were rubbing it in my face.”

He glances over towards the front door, staring at the ruined wood as if it’ll help him somehow. “I’m thirty-six now, Jeremy. I haven’t written anything in six months. I lost my job, my apartment and you. So at this point in time, it’s safe to say I’m a failed author. I’m not getting published; I’m not going to ‘make it’. It hurts, and as much as I try to pretend it doesn’t, lying just makes it worse,” he whispers, “the thing is, I don’t know how to make things better, I don’t what to fucking do anymore. You said that you’re angry all the time and so am I, Jeremy. I just- I can’t do anything fucking right anymore and it’s eating me alive.”

“You want me to forgive you?” Jeremy asks and Ryan looks back at him.

He can see them, if he tries hard enough.

Not them now, what with their bitterness, and their hurt and their issues, but what they used to be. Back when they’d first started dating. When things were easy and new, and sweet. Back when Jeremy would blush whenever Ryan asked him to stay the night, and when they’d burn their dinner because they were too busy kissing.

He can see them, but that doesn’t mean he can be them again.

“No. No, I’m not asking for that,” he sighs, pushing himself away from the counter. Jeremy watches him closely, but stays quiet, “I just don’t want you to give up hope just yet. You’ve still got plenty of time, and like I said, you were born to run. You’ll be fine, Jeremy, just don’t rush yourself.”

It’s cowardly, but he doesn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he just turns on his heel and takes a few steps towards the front door. It’s better this way, he tells himself, even though with every step he takes away from Jeremy feels like his heart is being crushed. He’s better off without you.

So he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t turn around. At least, not until Jeremy calls out to him.

“Ryan,” he says, and Ryan freezes just a few steps away from the door. “I- I wasn’t lying earlier… when I said I missed you. I-” he pinches the bridge of his nose- “I’m not going to lie, I really tried to hate you afterwards. You made me feel like shit, made me feel everything was my fault, but I couldn’t.”

He shakes his head, a faraway look in his eyes. “But the thing is, we were both horrible at being in a relationship, Ryan. You were the first person I’d ever really loved, and I just, I gave you too much of myself to fast, just trying to keep you with me. And you had your own issues, your own problems and I just-” he sucks in a breath, and Ryan stares at him- “I think it was too soon, wasn’t the right time. You know the saying Ryan, right person wrong time? Yeah... I think that was us.”

“What are you trying to say,” he replies, and Jeremy shrugs.

“I’m not suggesting we try again, at least, not yet. I just think, if you honestly believe that I still have a chance, that one day I’ll be able to run again and that it’ll just take some time, then why can’t it be the same for you?” he responds, and Ryan’s caught off guard by his words. He opens his mouth, looking for the words to disagree with Jeremy, but the lad just watches him with a soft gaze.

“You’re not dead yet, Ryan, and neither am I. That’s gotta count for something, right?” he adds, and Ryan feels his heart skirt a beat in his chest. He stands there for a moment, utterly unsure about where they go from there.

He’s caught between leaving and staying, and in the end, Jeremy makes the decision for him.

“Go crash in Geoff’s apartment. Call him and make a date to catch up again. Start writing again. There’s still plenty of time, Ryan, don’t waste it by feeling sorry for yourself. And if you want to, come back around in a couple of days and we’ll go get lunch together, as friends this time, and we’ll see how we go from there.”

Ryan nods and the pressure in his chest lifts just enough for him to breathe. He takes a moment, letting himself memorise the little parts that make Jeremy, Jeremy. The way he stands, the way he looks, the way he sounds and moves, just so he won’t forget about them again, and then he turns around.

He’s halfway out the door when he hesitates, tossing a look back over his shoulder at Jeremy. “I’m really hoping that this is the right time then, Jeremy,” he whispers, and Jeremy blinks back at him.

“Yeah, me too, Rye.”

[videogamelover99]

Waking Days Ch. 2 - Rift

A/N: Finally, after a two month hiatus! To be honest, this chapter was a lot more difficult to write, mostly because there’s been, ahem, other fandoms that’ve grabbed my attention as of late. Also the content. As you may have noticed, I’m a lot more into character interaction than any real plot. Plot just helps give more character interaction, in my opinion, so writing a chapter that’s mostly plot and little character development is hard. That’s it. That’s my excuse. 

hopefully though, this chapter would be worth the wait. As usual, I take any questions you guys wanna ask about the state of the fic, if anybody’s worried or confused or just wants to gush with me about fandom. 

AU by my pal @doodledrawsthings. Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

Thirty years took a great toll on his memories, but Ford still remembered this place. Dimension 52 rested in the back of his mind, even as he fled from one universe to another, meeting hundreds of people, places, and searching frantically for a concrete way of stopping Bill. It was one of the few worlds he knew that truly meant him no harm, where his stay wasn’t stained with loss and terror and Bill’s chaos. Years of voyaging had left his memory of this place faded and washed out like a watercolor painting, and remembering little details grew harder and harder, but as Stanford set foot into the temple, it was like he hadn’t even left.

One wouldn’t call the temple of Jheselbraum the Unswerving messy. It was cluttered, yes. There were jars and bottles of various herbs and alien substances on top of books and papers, something that closely resembled a simple chalkboard hidden behind a shelf, notes and equations written down on it in several different languages, the handwriting quick but precise. A stack of long unused books and scrolls were covered up with a tapestry of what looked like a pink, frilly amphibian. It was cramped and a bit overzealous, but in no way chaotic. There was a system, where everything had its place, and while Stanford could not even begin to understand what it was, the owner certainly could. Who was now standing in front of the already mentioned tapestry, regarding the two men.

“Stanford!” the woman smiled in greeting, all seven of her eyes crinkling upwards. “I’m so glad you’ve made it.” she then turned to Stan, something almost teasing in her gaze. “And Stanley, you’re even wearing pants. I’m flattered.”

Stan scowled at the floor, and Ford didn’t miss the way his face reddened in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, try to embarrass me some more, would ya?”

…

Mabel walked through the door, only to trip on a huge encyclopedia and almost fall flat on her face. The girl caught herself in time on the doorframe, casting a puzzled look on the rest of the attic. Books and papers were scattered around the room, some mathematics textbooks and some atlases, as well as a whole collection of chewed up pens. Uh oh, nerd alert.

“Broski? You there?”

Dipper was sitting on the edge of his bed, devouting another poor writing utensil. He was holding one of the moleskine notebooks the Grunkles sent him for christmas, the ones with the mysterious vibe that unsurprisingly matched Grunkle Ford’s old journals. Around him was a nest of crumpled up, ink-stained papers.

“No, no, that can’t be it...Maybe Vigenere…?”

Mabel rolled her eyes at her brother’s muttering, striding up to him and waving in front of his face. “Hellloooo? Earth to Dipperrr? Nerd-bro, come in!”

Dipper pushed her hand out of the way, annoyed glare already forming on his face. “Mabel! Can’t you see I’m-” His voice died in his throat at his twin’s startled face, voice immediately softening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just- Bill and his stupid rotten tricks!” The teen threw the notebook on the floor, coming up to rub his face with both hands. “I’ve been at it for hours and I still don’t know if it was a joke or not.”

Mabel carefully picked up the notebook, turning it over to look at the crumpled pages.

16°-18°, < 24°

“Did Bill give this to you?”

Dipper briefly uncovered his face to stare accusingly at the numbers. “More like threw it over his shoulder. And I still don’t get it, is it some sort of code? I tried longitude and latitude, but that leads to nowhere.” The younger twin buried his face in his knees, letting out a frustrated noise. “Bill with his stupid riddles and tricks. It probably doesn’t even mean anything, and he’s just laughing at me chasing some pointless garbage.”

“Hmm.” Mabel flipped the notebook upside down, then to the side, but no grand breakthrough seemed to hit her. “Well, you wanna know what I think?”

“That I should take a break?”

“Wow, see, twin telepathy!” the girl grinned, closing the moleskine and putting it back on the table. “You know what we should do? Go to town and get some food, that’s what. We haven’t been to Greasy’s in like, forever! And you can’t live off an ink diet, Bro-bro, trust me, I’ve tried.” The girl tugged Dipper to his feet, the other twin  already smiling awkwardly. “And hey, who knows, maybe you’ll get some brilliant strike of genius afterwards!”

“Yeah,” the boy looked away, then reached for Wendy’s hunter hat, the one that was hanging dejectedly on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right! I’m right most of the time, after all.” Mabel grabbed him by the arm, the kids giggling as they rushed down the steps, Mabel skipping every other one and almost sending both of them crashing down.

“Mabel, be careful!”

“Hey, it’s not like we-” Mabel froze, casting her eyes toward the gift shop, where a familiar nasally voice spouted its daily dose of rants and nihilism. Though it wasn’t that voice that got her attention, despite its desperate effort to do so. No, it was the other voice, the one it seemed to be arguing with. “Oh no, not him.”

Dipper frowned. “Is that Gideon?”

“Right okay, we can still use the back door. Or climb out the window.” The teen proceeded to do just that, already half-way up the windowsill.

“Come on, Mabel! You know he’s at least trying! The least you could do is give him a concrete ‘no’.” Dipper, sounding uncharacteristically sympathetic, tugged on his sister’s leg. “And the door’s right there.”

She froze, staring at the far side of the room, where, indeed, was the location of the front door. “Whatever, it’s more dramatic if I-”

“Mabel.”

“He kept sending me those creepy letters back home! You don’t understand, he perfumed all of them!”

“Mabel.”

“And, I mean, I love chocolate, but I’m pretty sure those had some serious love potion magic in them, they were even sparkly-”

“Mabel.”

“OKAY, FINE!” Mabel yelled loud enough for the whole Shack to hear, the walls echoing a little at her outburst. The twins froze, an awkward silence falling on them both. Suddenly, the voice that Mabel had dreaded so much to hear burst through the hallway. “Mabel, my sweet, is that you?”

The girl sighed, her voice a lot softer than before. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him. Happy?”

“Sugar Pie, are you there? I was just telling this bumbling little fool that-”

“You sure you wanna use that insult specifically, shortstack?”

“How dare-”

Mabel burst through the door, trying to look as haughty as possible. Dipper followed closely behind, awkwardly casting his eyes on the scene. Gideon was busy having a death stare with Bill, the latter having a definite advantage in height while the former looked a lot more alive on his feet. Wendy leaned over the cash register, looking bored as she watched the two bicker at each other, chewing what looked like a total of 5 slices of gum. There was no one in the giftshop, which wasn’t unusual being this close to closing hour. What else wasn’t unusual was the look of utter adoration that boomed on Gideon’s face the moment his eyes caught Mabel’s. “Mabel my Sweet! It’s so nice to see you. You know, your Grunkle Stanley is so generous to allow even cretins like these,” the cast a thumb at Bill, who looked more and more livid by the second, “To work here! Must be a Pines thing, such kind, kind people, yes…”

“Laying it on a bit thick there, huh, pal?”

“Silence, peasant!” Gideon snapped, “I will not be insulted by someone with an employee name tag!”

“Are you sure I can’t drop-kick him?” the demon mock-whispered to Wendy, who shrugged apathetically.

“If you wanna face those goonies he’s got by the door then go for it, dude.”

Said goonies were leaning on both sides of the door frame, both looking like they could lift up a whole truck, both bored as hell.

Dipper shuffled awkwardly to stand next to Wendy, while Mabel came up to Gideon, her face set in an accepting frown. “Hi, Gideon.” The ten-year-old smiled, reaching for a hug. The girl skillfully avoided it, reaching out instead to shake his hand. She grimaced at how sweaty it was, wiping it off behind her back. “Uh, can you maybe call off your, uh, friends?”

Gideon nodded eagerly, seeming dazed. “Of course, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and the three tattooed bulky dudes disappeared out the door, the friendly ding following suit.

Bill seemed to look a lot more eager. “Great, now can I drop-kick him?”

“No, Bill,” Mabel took a deep breath, backing away slightly at Gideon’s invasive stance. “No, you can’t.”

The lanky man raised an eyebrow. “Really, because it looks like I’d be doing ya a fav-”

“Bill Cipher??”

Mabel didn’t think there were enough question marks and exclamation points to properly convey the fortune-teller’s surprise. Completely forgetting any plan of wooing her, the boy’s beady little eyes fixing themselves on the man in question. A small grin spread across his face, and Bill’s eyes narrowed, as if daring him to say something. And say something he did. “Oh, my stars! If it isn’t Bill Cipher himself! Though I admit, you are looking a bit different these days. Though I feel like you’re lacking something. Say, a sailor suit?”

“Still mad about that one, huh, kid?”

Wendy snorted through her gum, seemingly at the mental image of Bill in a sailor suit. “Welp, time to close. I’m going home. You guys take care of these two disasters.” The red-head locked up the cash register and left, shooting the twins a parting wave as she did. It was kind of startling, how easily the 16-year-old accepted that the guy that turned all of her family into stone last year was now hanging around the Shack, but Mabel supposed she was dealing in her own way. Cool on the outside, maybe having a mental crisis on the inside. If anything, she could relate. Wendy had accepted Bill the same way you accept getting gum stuck in your hair: irritating and uncomfortable, but hard to get out.

Now that the teen had left, Gideon seemed to have gathered more courage. He turned to Mabel once again, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. “Now, I know you’ve only just recently arrived in town, but I was wondering if you could-”

“Uh, actually,” Mabel looked away, shifting from side to side, “Me and Dipper already had something planned. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Oh, that’s-” The plastered smile on the boy’s face twitched, like it was hard for him to keep it on, “Wonderful. Tell me all about it when you get back, okay?”

The girl sighed his overly-hopeful tone, not being able to stay cold after hearing it. “Sure, okay.”

Gideon kept smiling at her, seeming to expect something. Dipper cleared his throat, saving her from another awkward moment. “Uh, you kinda have to leave, man. We’re closed.”

“Oh right! Of course, of course.” the boy’s overly-gelled head turned to Bill, who’s been smugly quiet the whole time. “Doesn’t he have to leave as well?”

“He’s living with us, actually. Long story.”

“I...see…” Gideon’s eye twitched at that news. Still, a forceful smile stretched on his face, and he clasped Mabel’s hand in his own. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, my queen.”

“Uh, thanks, Gideon, you...really don’t have to.” Mabel retrieved her hand, quickly hiding it in her sleeve.

“But I want to.” He beamed at her proudly. Behind him, Bill put his hands around his neck in an over-the-top choking gesture, making the girl snort quietly through her nose.

“Bye, Gideon.”

“Bye, bye, Sugar Plum!” Gideon retreated, waving at Mabel as he swung open the door, the two goons he had outside picking him up and hosting him on their shoulders. The door swung closed with a loud squeak, and the twins let out a shared breath of relief.

“Man,” Dipper shook his head, “And I thought he’d be, y’know, better after the whole redemption biz. I think he just got more creepy.”

Mabel nodded, wincing as Gideon waved at her from the window. “After all that, I think I prefer ‘Shooting Star’.”

She blinked as Bill made a strange noise from behind, almost forgetting that he was still there in the first place. It was weird, how easily she got used to his overwhelming presence. Like someone placed a pack of dynamite in the corner and everyone just accepted it. “Hey, Bill?”

“What.” The demon scowled, already retreating into the house.

“Do you wanna, you know, come with us? To Greasy’s?”

Bill stared. Dipper stared. And Mabel quickly wondered what on earth possessed her to say that. “On second thought-”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely not.” Dipper piped in, looking like he’d just dodged a bullet.

“Wow, I wonder what part of ‘getting along with the guys whose town I completely trashed last time’ is a good idea.” Bill continued, looking annoyed and tired, “Sorry, kid, getting lynched by an enraged mob isn’t something I’m looking forward to in this lifetime.”

“Well, now you’re just overreacting.”

“Yes.” The demon deadpanned, leaving the shop with an air of finality.

“I don’t get it.” Mabel frowned, “He was fine with the shopping trip.”

Dipper shrugged, “There aren’t many people there that we specifically know, Mabel.” the boy tugged on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get food.”

...

Getting food was the easy part. Lazy Susan greeted them with open arms, insisting that the meal was on the house. “Now that you two sweethearts are back, it’s only fair if I treat ya to something.” The woman left, spilling coffee everywhere as she did, and if there was one thing Dipper could think of that came out good from Weirdmaggedon, it was the reputation their family got because of it. Gee thanks, Bill.

Mabel was in the process of shoveling as many pancakes in her mouth as it was physically possible, finishing it off with strawberries and syrup. “I could get used to this.” She mouthed over her food, grabbing the glass of milk.

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, picking at his bacon dejectedly. He wondered if he should have gotten coffee instead, possible addictive consequences be damned. He saw Grunkle Ford drinking it in gallons a day, and the guy was like, 60. It should’ve been fine. He was going to highschool in September anyway, and from what he’s heard from Wendy, coffee is the only thing overworked students survive off.

“Hehy, Bro-bro, waht’s wronhg?” Mabel wolfed the rest of her pancakes down, before asking, “It’s not that stupid code again, is it?”

“Ugh, Mabel!” Dipper pushed away his plate, leaning on his elbows. “I thought this would help me with it, but I’m just more confused! I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Sorry,” he added, when he saw Mabel wince at his tone, “I shouldn’t have-”

“Nah, it’s okay. Bill’s still a jerk.” Mabel grinned at him.

“The biggest jerk.” Dipper piped up.

“In the whole universe!”

“Multiverse.” he corrected.

“Wow, way to make a guy feel special.”

Dipper jumped in his seat. Bill was suddenly appeared out of nowhere, leaning over their table, hands folded smugly under his chin. How hadn’t he noticed the demons sooner? It was irritating, how easily he still spooked them despite being just as flesh and blood as everyone else. Talk about speak of the devil.

"Yikes, what's with the sour look, kid?" Bill grinned, shuffling into the seat next to them. "Ya look like a Meeseeks that's been alive for a day too long."

“A what-now?”

“Oh right, your dimension hasn’t reached the torture-induced-slavery-is-totally-okay level yet.” Bill shrugged, grabbing a strawberry from Mabel’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “Fun fact, human rights aren’t necessarily better the more advanced the civilization gets. Makes you think, huh?”

“What are you doing here, Bill?” Dipper scowled, raising his head to glare pointedly at the demon. “Weren’t you, like, scared someone would recognize you?”

“I remembered that the people here are as dumb as a log.” Bill frowned. “And I wasn’t scared. You don’t get a plan of wrecking the whole multiverse in order by being an idiot, is all I’m saying.”

“And then have it be wrecked in turn by two twelve-year-olds?” Dipper, bit back, feeling smug as Bill sputtered in his seat.

“You guys, look!” Mabel nearly leaped onto the table, pointing at something behind them. Before Dipper had a chance to wonder if there was something there of if she just wanted to end their bickering he froze.

There was indeed something. Really weird.

“Okay, so some guys just like to wear big cloaks. And look suspiciously like that Blind Eye cult. Maybe they’re cosplaying.”

“Cosplaying.” Bill echoed. “Kid, half of the people living in this dump don’t even know how to turn on a computer.” The demon’s eyes were narrowed, cautiously following the two cloaked figures that disappeared on the other side of the diner. “I know the irony of this is gonna set ya off, kid, but I don’t trust them.”

“You didn’t trust the speck of dust that was on your sandwich last week.” Mabel pointed out, finishing off the last of her meal. Still, her gaze was trained on the two guys in costume, not leaving them for a second even as she drank her milk.

“You humans die out of every little thing, you know that, right?” Bill sounded defensive. “How’s I supposed to know that wasn’t some kind of poisonous spore that would kill me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all knowing?” Dipper but back with a grin.

“Yeah, like I’d waste a minute of my unlimited lifespan looking at something as dumb as moss.”

“Guys, they’re leaving!” The two shady dudes got up from the booth, grabbing a to-go bag and exiting the diner, the door swinging back with an unwittingly cheery ding.

The three shared a glance. “Do we follow them?” Mabel breathed, jumping in her seat with anticipation.

The boy frowned, feeling hesitant despite the nostalgic excitement that was pooling in his stomach. Do they? On one hand, having a new mystery would not only be a refreshing start on their summer, but would distract him from the irritating headache that was that stupid code. On the other hand, there was Bill.

Bill, who met Dipper’s indecision with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Yikes, what happened to Mr.’selling your soul for a dead laptop’?”

“I-”

“Cool, let’s go!” Already making up her mind Mabel dashed after the two figures, leaving Dipper gawking at her from the booth, Bill shrugging and slowly following behind.

“Hey, wait!”

…

“Do not touch that.” Stan retraced his hand, hiding it behind his back at that icy tone. Something told him he shouldn’t mess with her. That lady could be terrifying when needed to be, the freaky seven-eyed stare following him even as he backed away from whatever doohickey the chick was so sensitive about.

“Right, no touching, got it.”

Ford sighed, shooting his brother a warning look before he followed the woman deeper into the temple. Stan narrowly avoided a precariously piled book tower, shooting a quick glance at the rows upon rows of empty vials stacked neatly on several tall shelves. The salesman in him wondered how much all this sci-fi fantasy crap would be worth online, while the Mr.Mystery asked how much of this stuff he could sneak into the Mystery Shack without any issue. That weird, glowing blue, paperweight-like rock looked promising. Problem was, the last time he stole from a witch didn’t go that well, and Stan had a feeling that this one could do much worse than take his hands. Better safe than sorry.

So the man said goodbye to the radioactive rock, rushing to catch up to his overly enthusiastic brother.

They passed more of that voodoo-type shit on the way to wherever the hell that chick was taking them, stuff that handwitch could only dream on nicking, and Stan briefly wondered how his know-it-all brother even came across this lady. Okay, so Ford was automatically attracted to all things weird, but this?

Then they entered another, more spacious chamber, and Stan dropped his jaw somewhere along the way.

In a bizarre sort of nostalgia, it reminded him of the portal in the basement, or at least the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it. It was like his brother’s nerdy tendencies were all amped by a thousand, handed a couple of tons of scrap metal and tools and left with nothing to do for a few hundred hours. Every possible free space, every nook and cranny, every corner was filled to the brim with gadgets and gizmos. An unfinished robot arm was draped across a half-dismantled satellite.

“Wow.” Stan whistled appreciatively, and felt the Oracle's gaze as she eyed him (ha ha) from the side. “I mean, not that I'm surprised or anythin’, but...wow. No wonder my bro gushed about you so much. This is like his dream come true.”

Stanford coughed awkwardly into his fist, shooting his twin a pointed look that said not now.

The purple alien paid them no mind, kneeling down to shift through the rows upon rows of what Stan could only label as sci-fi stuff, eyes trained vacantly at the objects in her hand, but Stan could see the corner of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. Finally she stood, all seven feet of her, a small, shiny gizmo clenched gently in one hand. It vaguely resembled a clock, gold-colored dials glinting between the creature's fingers. She handed it to Ford, who cradled it in his palms. Closer, Stan could see the strange carvings etched on the metal, a language that didn't even seem coherent, nevermind human. Ford gawked at the clock thing some more, before shooting his attention to the purple lady. “Is this-?”

“Oh yes, though maybe not in the form you're accustomed to.”

“Yeah, great, anybody wanna fill me in here? Cause so far all I can see is a pretty good buck on eBay.”

Jheselbraum’s eyes crinkled, a hint of a smile. “This is a chronometer. Normally designed to handle small time paradoxes, I've repurposed it to handle other anomalies as well. It should not only measure the damage the Nightmare Realm may have caused to your dimension, but hold the seams of reality together quite longer, at least until we've figured out a more permanent solution.”

Stan eyed the thermometer thingy again, squinting at it in scrutiny. “So is this like some kind of super glue to hold that hole together? Cause that's what I'm getting out on it.”

“More like scotch tape, but yes, that's the idea.” The Oracle explained, erasing Ford's look of frustration. “The device would have to be recharged every few days or so, but since the damage hasn't spread further, I think will hold for quite a while.”

“And...what? This saucer shaped thingy is supposd’ta  stop reality from screwing? Call me crazy but that sounds stupid.”

Ford shot a harsh look in Stanley’s direction, still gently calling the trinket. “I'm sure it will work.” Stan couldn't tell if he said it for himself or the Oracle next to him.

Said oracle didn't look very impressed, passively watching the two brothers bicker. “It would be wise to install it soon. I'm sure nobody wants that gap to grow any bigger.”

The two nodded.

…

“What are they doing here?”

“Shhh.”

“Ooh, maybe they’re a cult!”

“Like those Swollen Eyeballs?”

“...What?”

“Oops, haha, nevermind. You humans have way too many eye-related fanatics. Way to make a guy feel special, y’know?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You just did.”

“Mabel! Shh!”

The two hooded figures rounded the corner, disappearing in the dumpster alley between the post office and the barber shop. Dipper peeked at them from behind the wall, finding the two mysterious persons deep in a conversation. They talked in a low whisper, impossible for him to hear, and their hoods were on too low to see any of their faces. Despite not knowing what they were talking about, it struck the twin as odd, pretty shady even. Then again, not many people walked around in full satanic worshipper gear. So yeah, Dipper didn’t trust them, not one bit. On the bright side, at least they weren’t the feds. He’s pretty sure the last time they saw those, Grunkle Ford had wiped their memories clean MIB style. They probably wouldn’t be too happy if they ever found out.

Mabel kneeled next to Dipper in order to see some of the action. Bill just stood by, leaning against the brick wall. Maybe he didn’t care to see who those guys were. Maybe he was pretending he still could, without the need to actually turn his head and look. Either way, he suddenly looked bored, looking ready to leave, but for some reason hesitant to leave the twins alone.

Dipper turned back to the pair of shady weirdoes, leaning over his sister to get a better look. They weren’t wearing anything remarkable except the cloaks themselves, and a thin sash wrapped around each of their waists. It had some embroidery on it, now that he realized it, something that looked like writing, though definitely not English. Arabic? Cyrillic? The letters were defined yet flowing, something mimicking cursive without actually being cursive.

The hand gripping the bricks slipped.  

Dipper tumbled down onto his sister, not having realized how dangerously far he’d leaned until it was too late. The two twins fell on the concrete with a bang, Mabel groaning in pain underneath him. The two figures turned toward them, and for a second Dipper wondered if they were like the bad guys in any action movie: ready to shoot down a witness to something they didn’t want getting out. He wondered if they had some crazy magic stuff going on, or if they’d just pull out a gun and get it done quick. They did none of that.

Instead they turned tail and ran, disappearing deeper into the alley, the robes dragging after them as they did. The twins breathed a shared sigh of relief.

Behind them, Dipper heard a slow clap. “Wow, way to go. A-grade sleuthing. Real Sherlock Holmes-like. The mystery twins. I don’t think I can run out of sarcastic remarks for that.”

“You could help us up.” Mabel growled underneath him.

“Nah.”

The boy slowly got up, stretching a hand to help his sister. “Who do you think those guys were?”

“Mass murderers. The kind that use your blood for sacrifices and carve all your insides out before burning your body to appease the gods.”

“...”

“Kidding! Or am I?”

Dipper dusted himself off, watching Mabel do the same, and cast a last look at the now empty alley. “We should tell Grunkle Ford.”

…

The track back to the Shack was long and exhausting. The heat of June weighed on the twins’ backs, making their movements sluggish and lazy. Bill trodded behind them, acting like he didn’t mind the weather, but Mabel could already tell he was just as uncomfortable, the way his mouth was forced in a tight line, sweat beading just above his eyebrows.

It was late-afternoon when they finally reached the Mystery Shack, the sun just peaking over the shingled rooftop, casting the attraction in a fiery glow. The house cast a long shadow over the driveway, bathing them in merciful cool. Mabel squinted at the front porch, seeing her two Grunkles sitting on the couch, deep in some kind of debate. The silhouette of the third visitor was just visible behind Grunkle Stan’s large frame, hands folded on her lap. The girl heard Bill draw a sharp breath behind her.

“Nora?” Dipper called out, running to meet the three.

Mabel spared a glance Cipher, who looked more and more uncomfortable by the minute. His face did a pretty good job of not letting it slip, but the way the demon dug his nails into his shirt made it clear he didn’t want to be here.

She wondered about that for a moment before shrugging it off, turning to follow her twin across the gravelly driveway. Nora smiled when she saw the two approach, but there was something going on. Ford looked somber, even more so than he usually was, and Stanley was too grumpy for it to be any good. Honestly, it looked like the two old men were trying to hide something.

“What’s going on?” Dipper asked, shooting a look to Grunkle Ford, hoping to glimpse at least something in his gaze. But the man’s face remained blank.

“Everything’s fine, unlike you two. Jeez, you kids take a tumble down a garbage dump?” Grunkle Stan hurriedly changed the subject, ruffling Dipper’s hair affectionately.

“Grunkle Stan-”

“Seriously, you guys have been acting really weird for a while.” mabel piped up, folding her arms and glaring at her uncles as effectively as she could. “What’re you hiding?”

“Probably that giant hole in reality.”

Any other time, Mabel would have taken this as another of Bill’s nonsense remarks. But the way the two old men suddenly tensed spoke volumes. Nora looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, looking to the side with an annoyed frown.

Stanford looked like he was struck by lightning, his eyes impossibly wide. “How did you-”

“Well, first off, I’m not blind, despite how much I feel like it.” Bill bit back, a grin on his face, seemingly enjoying the other man’s distress.

“What were you even doing there?”

Bill shrugged, inspecting his nails. “Looking for my hat. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Stan deadpanned, already looking like he’s accepted everything. “Ya got some kinda need for that stupid thing or what?”

The demon bristled, hands clenching at his sides, when Nora suddenly got up, silencing all three of them. “Is this really necessary? Because I’d prefer to avoid the drama.”

Bill took a step back, while Grunkle Ford looked no less calm than before. “I- what if he-?”

“What if I what? What’d ya think I’ll do? Get back my powers? Fat chance that’s happening.” Bill bit back, fists still clenched by his sides. The oracle sighed, moving away from the scene and coming to stand next to Mabel, the annoyed look growing more pronounced.

“You wanted to destroy the world, and now suddenly that plan’s all done and forgotten? Please,” Ford got up, looming over the demon, who looked no more willing to back down. “I know better than to fall for that-”

Cipher burst out laughing, catching the scientist off-guard. “Destroy the world, why in the seven hells would I wanna do that??”

“But- you-, why would you-”

“BECAUSE I LIVE HERE, GENIUS!”

Ford grew silent, eyes wide. Mabel turned to the oracle, only to find her gone, not a trace of her left. Grunkle Stan noticed the same thing, coming up to pull the two men away from each other before they could do something stupid. “Right, okay, shut up. Both of ya. The lady already left, and honestly, right now I kinda wish I could do that whole vanishing trick too.”

Bill shook himself, snapping out of whatever funk he was in, Stanford breathing heavily next to him, but no longer looking like he’d kill him.

That’s when Dipper finally spoke, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Grunkle Ford, what are you talking about?”

Grunkle Ford sighed, looking away briefly before coming to meet the boy’s gaze. “I have something to show both of you.”