#like tags are nice and stuff but. on the fic itself is where i can go back and read through

[demaparbat-hp]

Hi Dema!! Your art is fantastic and even the lineart is awesome! Solid and confident in where it's thick and where thin. I really like how your style has characters look more realistic and they have specific consistent features. Your blog has a pleasant atmosphere, and you're skilled in weaving AUs! There's a lot of details and structure, and I'd like to ask if any of them have a full story arc? Could you do a list of all of the AUs? Is there a motif that you especially like that repeats in any of the AUs? And whenever you add comments to my stuff in the tags I literally smile, it makes me want to keep at my plan to create everything I have in mind. So I'd like to spread this joy! I hope you have a nice day! (from late-draft ^^)

Hello, Late-Draft! I wasn't expecting this ask at all but I'm so glad to have received it!

First of all—I'll try to hold myself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. I'm having a sempai noticed me moment over here and that's just embarrassing. So give me a second to compose myself, if that's alright?

Okay, I'm back.

Now, on to business.

Character design, especially when it comes to facial features and how they're unique to each person, has always been a passion of mine. I always try to have a solid design for each character. I choose which features feel like the character in question, which face feels natural to draw, and go along with it. I love drawing Katara as much as I love drawing Zuko. Meanwhile, I seem to be on a never-ending battle against Sokka's features. Woes of an artist, I suppose.

Character design is actually one of the reasons I love your work so much, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm currently experimenting a bit with a different style... Hopefully it won't be long before the artwork is done and I can share it over here. I'm so excited for everyone to see it!

Now it's time for the reason we're all here.

I have said it before and shall say it once more: AUs are my lifeblood.

I love them so much! Building them, daydreaming the scenes, thinking of the characters and how they differ from their canon versions. The arcs and the themes and the worldbuilding. Building AUs is my passion, and I have so many of them!

There are a lot of motifs and themes that tend to repeat themselves in several of my AUs, I believe.

You'll notice that most of my stories are Zuko-centric, with a heavy emphasis on grief and humanity. There's the question of what makes us human and how to move forward when the whole world seems to push you back. I put a lot of stock in metaphors and symbolism within the narrative itself. I'm especially interested in the nuance of war and how it affects people emotionally, physically, and psychologically

I also tend to reutilize some elements of the lore and/or worldbuilding! Such as the Painted Lady's backstory, or the existence of War Children within the ATLA universe.

Now, the list!

I think I'll start with my current project, if that's okay :)

For the Spirits (New Gods AU)

Zuko was a child when he met Agni. Then, the spirits started coming to him. Eyes hidden in the hallways, voices pleading for help, for recognition, for remembrance.

Zuko could see Agni. He could see the broken remains of a Great Spirit and the empty smiles of amnesiac ghosts.

And they could see him in return.

I've been working on this AU for a long time, but only now did I get the chance to start writing the fic (linked up there!). I'm extremely excited about FTS and where the story will lead us in the future, but I'll try not to spoil too much.

It's a Zuko-centric story, with a heavy emphasis on Spirits and humanity. I'd like to add a warning for depression/mental health issues.

To Hesitate (Lee & Kya AU)

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

.

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

The Lee & Kya AU is a vibe, a feeling. It's probably one of my oldest AUs out there as well as one of my dearest.

A classical Lee and Kya From The Tea Shop AU, full with wholesome fandom tropes such as: fake (but not really) dating, fake identities, Ba Sing Se shenanigans, vigilante stuff, White Lotus missions, Iroh is a great Uncle, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, and, of course, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever see.

Other than that, Lee & Kya is probably one of the less plot-focused AUs I have. However, that doesn't mean that there aren't scenes I can't wait to write or a canon divergence or two where Zuko is concerned.

(I have another fic posted but I'll leave that one to the end. You asked for a full story arc and, oh boy, does Soundless deliver.)

Kintsugi AU

Closer to being canon-adjacent than canon-divergent, Kintsugi is yet another Zuko-centric AU (and are we not noticing a pattern over here?).

I'd love to explain it in depth, but I believe the caption of the artwork linked above does a better job at explaining than I ever will.

Kintsugi is the art of decorating your scars with pieces of Agni.

In the Fire Nation, the amount of golden marks are a sign of status. Only the Royal Family can afford to seal every single wound with Kintsugi. Such is the weight of this tradition that, among the ones with Agni's blood, it is the highest mark of dishonor to have a natural scar, for it proves you aren't worthy of the privilege.

After the Agni Kai, Ozai forbid Zuko's scar to be sealed with Kintsugi. The boy wasn't worth his title, his traditions or his pride. Zuko would be broken, but he wouldn't be beautiful. Not anymore.

(And sometimes it's easier to pretend he never was)

Kyoshi Warriors AU

One of my absolute favorites!

In this AU, Ursa took Zuko and Azula with her when she was banished, so they could start anew. With help from Iroh and the White Lotus, she managed to relocate her freshly burned eight-year-old child and her crying daughter to Kyoshi Island.

Years later, when Avatar Aang and his companions first arrive at Kyoshi Island, they're met by the Kyoshi Warriors and their leader, Noriko of pale skin and warm brown eyes.

The Gaang leave Kyoshi Island many weeks later with a new companion. And if Jian Li, with his war paint and his scar and his dual dao, gives the island that he has called home for so long one final, longing glance as they fly away on Appa, they pretend not to notice.

Hunters AU

We're starting to dwelve deep into dangerous waters!

This is a Katara Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU, with a twist!

This AU was born as a writing experiment. What if we take Katara's character, and change one of her core characteristics? Katara, who looked up to the Avatar as a saviour figure, now blames him for leaving and allowing the Fire Nation to wage war on the world.

Then comes Zuko, a banished Prince with a crew full of traitors and his own agenda. Zuko wishes for nothing more than to dethrone his father and end the war. He is a White Lotus member, an honorable, driven young man, and he has a plan.

The catch? He needs to take the Avatar to his father if he wishes to regain his title and be able to rightfully take the throne. Oh, and he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—but nobody said it had to be in chains.

Halfblood AU

I watched Blue Eye Samurai a few months ago and it destroyed me. The idea of a half-blooded child dead set on getting revenge for their very existence stuck with me, and this AU was born.

Kanna made a life for herself in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North. Katara was raised by her grandmother in a small village, being taught to hide her bending if she wanted to live peacefully in a place she was only half of. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, a nameless warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who had loved Kya and left her behind, didn't know of Katara's existence.

Katara took over Kanna's clinic after she passed away. Always taking care of others. Always suppressing her need to bend. Always wishing for more.

One day, he arrived. A half-child, just like her. But while she was of Water, he was a son of Agni. He was searching for the man who brought him to this world. The man who scarred him. The man whose face he couldn't recall, whose name he did not know. The man whose specter had chased his mother to her grave. The man who would die at his hand.

The answers were hidden in a small teashop deep within Ba Sing Se. Lee offered her a way out, and Katara took it.

Soundless (Uiscefhuaraithe)

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has hands scarred by fire and great talent, though no teacher.

Zuko is a mute War Child, a herbalist and healer, and the Blue Spirit. He bears the mark of fire, and the scar of the blade that took away his voice.

The first time they met, the Blue Spirit had just saved her, tough not before her hands got burned. The second time they met, his name was Lee, and he was healing her.

They live in war and they will fight, if not for the world, then for themselves.

You asked for a full storyline, and I shall deliver!

Soundless is probably the only AU I have fully planned. Three-books, Azula redemption arc, role-reversals and all.

This AU has everything. From travelling through the Earth Kingdom together, to odd character team-ups that somehow manage to work, and a major goal/conflict to resolve.

Zuko and Katara must find their way to Omashu in an Earth Kingdom ravaged by war as they also grow to understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They meet with new and old alliances, keep their ears open for rumors of the Avatar (They say he is an airbender, Lee. Do you truly belive that?), and do their best to always be two steps ahead of their pasts.

Meanwhile, both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are searching for the runaway heiress, Aang must find his way alone on this new, hostile world, and Azula must face the revelation that, despite what her father has stated for the last two years (liar, he lied at her! Her! He lied he liedliedliedlied), her brother might just be alive.

I'm sorry for making this such a long answer! I just get very excited about these subjects and don't know when to stop. If you made it all the way down here: thank you again.

I hope you have a good day ❤️

[sokkastyles]

I have a question, I know we know that shipping does not equal morality. And I get that, and I really like that. However, on my other blog, that should have been my main blog (yes I am that dumb). I have talked about Aang's non-consensual and criticized how Kataang is written, however, if you ship Kataang I won't come for your throat because that's not my style. I know the few misogynists/antis on here and on Twitter, and I don't want to let a few bad apples be my impression of a fandom, that's not fair, So now I'm side-eyeing myself over my past remarks. Likewise, I know shipping is not equal to morality, but I also want to criticize Kataang because of how flawed it is and how wrong that kiss was (and other things). I have no idea what I'm saying because at this point I'm rambling. What do you think?

Well, there is a difference between criticizing a ship and criticizing canon. I don't honestly care what people ship. I use the antikataang tag because I don't want to argue with people who do ship it, but that doesn't mean I won't be critical of what is in the show. I think expecting people not to engage critically with media is absolute nonsense. But there is a difference between engaging critically with the actual media and criticizing people's fanon or headcanons, which is where you get away from critically engaging with canon and move into the area of criticizing other people's opinions, which is how arguments start.

Like, there isn't really any actual concrete argument you can make to criticize zutara, because zutara does not exist in canon. It's all fanon and headcanons and speculation. And criticizing other people's opinions just makes you look like a dick.

You also have to take into account the intention behind something. The thing about the way Katara's relationship with Aang is presented is that we're supposed to root for Aang to get Katara, and every obstacle towards that end is just there to create dramatic tension for the male point of audience identification. That's the real problem with the noncon kiss, and people who are critical of it are right to point it out.

In contrast, when I say shipping isn't morality, I'm talking about people who write, let's say, dubcon zutara fics. Fanfiction as a genre is largely female-centered fantasy. Yes, even those lurid fics you're thinking of. People write and read these fics for completely different reasons and have completely different expectations than when watching a series like ATLA. Trying to say that someone can't criticize the way the show presents Aang kissing Katara after she said she was confused as a mistake to be glossed over (that is forgotten as soon as it happens) because they also happen to like reading darkfic is nonsense. There's also a long history of women's interests being policed that informs my views here, vs the fact that consent has only fairly recently become a conversation in mainstream media. You have only to look at the way the show itself portrays Katara having interests (especially in boys) outside of Aang as dark and dangerous to see this happening in ATLA itself. Or the way the creators got away with saying that zutara shippers are doomed to end up in abusive relationships while painting Aang as a typical Nice Guy stereotype who expects Katara to magically become his girlfriend (and gets angry when she doesn't) and seeing nothing wrong with it.

The thing is that zutara, if we look at the way it's written in canon as a metaphor for a romantic relationship, follows the same tradition of how fanfiction has historically existed as an exploration of romantic and sexual dynamics. Those conversations about consent are actually happening and being explored in fanfiction, even the dark stuff, whereas relationships that are presented as "wholesome" often push us to NOT have those conversations. So when I say shipping isn't morality, what I actually mean is that noncanon shipping and darkfic actually has more of a moral leg to stand on than uncritically engaging with relationships on the grounds that Aang is the hero so his goodness and worthiness to get the girl should just be assumed. Zuko has to work for his right to be in a relationship with Katara because he didn't start out from a place of goodness, and that, on its own, is very female centered because instead of starting out from the perspective of the male hero deserving a relationship by virtue of being the hero, we see the idea that a man has to work to gain a woman's respect and affection.

So it's not so much that I hate KA, but I hate the idea that we should engage in it uncritically. And that would be true even if it really was the most wholesome relationship in the world. The same thing cannot be true of zutara because even the darkest of darkfic are about women centering themselves in the narrative and engaging with power dynamics in ways that are subverting patriarchal norms about relationships by definition.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Can You Hear The Thunder?

Chapter 8: Settled

Dewdrop gets to know Zephyr, and finds they have more in common than he thought. After repairing his friendship with Ifrit, Dew starts to finally feel like he's settling in topside.

2 updates in a week what is this?? (a very thoroughly drafted chapter, that's what) Next time they might even get to pick up their instruments! :0

Also we're at 69k words now. nice.

Rating: M Content warnings: religion Words: 8,995

Link to full fic with associated tags: Tumblr | AO3

Tag list: @cosmicseafoam @ashthewaterghoul @jimothybarnes @zombiequeen777 @kentuckyfriedsatan @papaslittlesunshine <33 if I forgot anyone lmk!!

Read below, or on AO3!

The conversation in the common room soon dried up; everyone feeling particularly exhausted for their own reasons. Just as Ifrit was making to leave the room Zephyr hesitated before following him, looking uncertainly back at Dewdrop. He regarded the air ghoul with confusion until they eventually spoke.

“Dewdrop?” Their voice was quiet, unsure, enough so to make Ifrit turn back. “Your hair…”

Dew’s hands shot back to comb through the ends instinctively, still confused by how Zephyr had been seemingly fixated on it all evening.

“Where did you get a brush from? If’s only got this awful comb that makes the knots worse…”

They mirrored Dew’s actions, demonstrating how their hair was more than just tousled from hands and pillows but was rather twisting itself into painful tangles between their claws. Dew winced, before the corners of his lips twitched into a smile despite himself: hair was something he knew how to help with. His own hatred of the mess his had become following his summoning was still fresh in his mind, the fear of the loss of identity it could being if he couldn’t fix it still heavy in his memories of his first days topside. Zephyr’s hair was similar in colour to his, he noticed, only with a silver tint instead of his gold. It was thicker too, wavy.

It wasn’t Zephyr’s fault they had been summoned straight into a soul bond he realised, any more than it was Ifrit’s for being instantly snatched away by it. That was still harder for Dew to reckon with, but he knew he had to, and would, eventually.

“C’mon,” he beckoned with a similarly cautious smile to the air ghoul, “I can help.”

Zephyr followed timidly behind Dew as he led them to his room, Ifrit still hovering in silent confusion in the hallway. It was as they paused before stepping through Dew’s doorway into his room that the fire ghoul realised Zephyr would be the first other ghoul to enter his room since he had been summoned; a place Aether had rightfully identified as a sanctuary for new ghouls. He found it didn’t bother him like he thought it would though, as he waved them forward with another smile that was only slightly forced.

“I’ve got a load of stuff in my bathroom from the storage,” he chattered to break the silence that echoed off the walls of the cold, white bathroom as he entered, “if you talk to Aether tomorrow he can take you there so you can pick out whatever you like.”

He presented Zephyr with a spare hairbrush like a trophy, complete with a small ta-dah! noise that finally pulled their nervous half-smile into genuine territory. Dew was beyond grateful in that moment that he had grabbed several, happy to make the newest summon, who still seemed more apprehensive than any of the others had been, let out a small giggle. Following the hairbrush came a handful of loose hair ties and bobby pins which Dew had already managed to scatter several of all around his sink area. Finally, the fire ghoul regarded his precious tub of hair mask, conflicted. He only had the one, and he had enjoyed it so much, could he really just give it away to the new ghoul?

“Here, take this too,” he pressed it into Zephyr’s increasingly full hands before he could change his mind, “comb it through when you wash it.”

The gratitude shining from their wide grey eyes made it worth it.

“I might have to borrow it back though.” He felt his own smile finally reach his eyes too, and Zephyr nodded enthusiastically as they juggled to hold everything without dropping any of their precious spoils.

“Thank you.” They looked so relieved by the small positive interaction that Dew felt a pang of guilt again. What impression must he have given them yesterday, storming off and ignoring their very existence?

“You’re very welcome,” he said, instead of dwelling on such thoughts as they headed back to his door, “see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Dewdrop.”

Dew felt the smile still pulling at his mouth as he closed the door behind them. See, that wasn’t so hard, he thought to himself. Zephyr, and the others come to that, were pack not strangers in the Pit. He didn’t need to guard things possessively anymore; they could share as a pack. Besides it felt nice helping the new ghoul, like he was finally starting to make the most of his few-day head start here by passing on the unquestioning care and grace Aether had shown him.

The next morning as Dew, Aether and Mountain were all still slowly waking up in the kitchen, Zephyr emerged from their and Ifrit’s room in search of breakfast. They were beaming from ear to ear, their hair braided up into an intricate coil of interwoven strands like silver filigree. Dew stared at them in awe, his mouth falling open as he tried to conceive how Zephyr had even managed that, let alone how one could start recreating it.

“Isn't my songbird clever?”

Ifrit crowed proudly as he followed behind them into the common room. He had a small braid of his own, Dew noticed, a clumsy thing in his fringe that flopped free of the fire ghoul's black hairband which casually held the rest back from his face.

Aether watched the interaction with undisguised curiosity.

“What?” Dew regarded the smiling quintessence ghoul with a small tilt of his head. “I just gave Zephyr some hair bits last night, that’s all.”

Aether turned back to his coffee but the smile at his packmate’s gesture didn't leave his face.

With a bridge forged between himself and Zephyr, Dew had one final ghoul he wanted to make amends with. Ifrit; the unerringly cheerful fire ghoul who showed no signs that Dew's reaction to his mate's arrival had even registered with him let alone offended him, yet which Dew still felt the need to make reparations for. The guilt over torching the early foundations of their relationship would continue to haunt him until he rebuilt them.

Even with Dew's own determination to settle things, Ifrit had still been a strong impetus for their growing friendship. Despite what Dew may have thought, Ifrit had actually changed very little from the overly cheerful and amicable ghoul he had appeared to be from first impressions in the time following Zephyr's arrival. He still seemed determined to make Dew his friend, and over the course of the next few early days with the complete pack he had melted through Dew's lingering defences surrounding other fire ghouls and their intentions.

Dew's own efforts had started the same day. A key part of his first hours knowing Ifrit had been sharing in the homesick beauty of the church windows, so Dew set out to share the other wonders of topside life he had uncovered with the fire ghoul. First of all he decided would be his own first experience: the wonder of his favourite food so far, frozen pizza. He had announced his plan to Aether as soon as Ifrit and Zephyr had drifted to the patio windows and out of earshot. The quintessence ghoul had smiled knowingly at him again, his face wearing the same expression as when Zephyr had appeared.

“We can make it a whole thing,” he agreed, “a pack pizza night with a movie, or something.”

“Sounds good!” Dew agreed enthusiastically before pausing, eyebrows knitting together for a moment. “What's a movie?”

Now that the summonings were all complete, and with no date for their first rehearsal with the previous band ghouls set, the ghouls had little else to do besides settle into the new environment, bond as a pack, and work on their glamours. Dew was already well on his way to mastering the latter, so decided that his time would be best spent getting the hang of all the strange, human technology he was totally unfamiliar with. That, and learning his way around the Abbey at last, getting his bearings inside the maze of a building.

His days mission had started with that; Aether showing him the route to the storage room so he could raid the freezers and cupboards for his planned pizza evening. Dew did his best to memorise the short journey, keeping the thought of midnight snack runs as a motivator. When the pair stumbled back to the Den their arms were laden with a selection of the flat cardboard boxes containing the precious pizza, as well as bags of crisps and snacks and something called popcorn which Aether declared an essential part of the experience.

Dew had wanted to get started on mastering the fire cabinet immediately after returning to the Den, only to realise it was barely even midday. Ifrit and Zephyr appeared to have retreated back into their room and Mountain was distracted by poking doggedly at a half-dead succulent he had discovered high on a shelf, seeing if it was beyond saving or not. Dew paced around the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself until Aether forced a sandwich into his hand.

“You're making me dizzy,” the quintessence ghoul laughed, “walking in circles like that!”

Aether moved him by the shoulders, gently pushing him into a chair at the dining table while he made more sandwiches for the rest of the pack. He continued to chuckle fondly at Dew's put-out expression as the fire ghoul took too large a bite, before walking down the hall to knock on Zephyr and Ifrit's door.

“Lunch is in the fridge!” He hollered, heading back to the common room without waiting for a response. He was quite sure he didn't need to hear whatever was going on behind the door; newly mated ghouls were so predictable.

They had hours to kill before Dew could get started on learning how to cook his feast, and heading outside was not an option as the weather was still grey enough to make his tail curl in discomfort. Dew threw himself onto his back on one of the couches in frustration, his hair fanning out around him as he grumbled his impatience to the flaking paint on the ceiling.

“You can't be bored already; you've barely been here a week!”

Aether laughed, following him to the sofa and effortlessly lifting Dew's head and shoulders up to allow himself to sit in his usual corner spot, before letting the fire ghoul flop back into his lap. Dew made to sit up again to give Aether space, but the quintessence ghoul quickly buried his fingers in his long hair, holding him gently in place. Dew felt his cheeks tinge pink and he tried not to think about how much he liked the cosy position or the gentle tickle of Aether's cool fingers.

“Enjoy the time off while we have it,” Aether continued, “once we start rehearsals, it'll be non-stop until the tour.”

“You and Terzo aren't relaxing though,” Dew pointed out, “what's he doing in his office that's so urgent if we haven't even started learning our instruments yet? You said you'd explain later.”

Aether hummed, choosing his words carefully.

“He's just a bit worried about keeping the momentum of the project right now. He's been at the head of the church longer than either of his brothers, and with Sister being more involved than ever I think he's worried what she could do...”

“But he's in charge though, right? What could she even do?”

“Yes, Terzo's the leader of the church and the head of our band project. Everyone knows Sister pulls all the strings though.” Aether turned more serious suddenly. “We don't talk of these things outside of the Den though, all right?”

Dew nodded.

“Everyone's on eggshells around her all the time then.”

“Pretty much.” Aether sighed. “Terzo knows this next tour has to be the biggest yet. Sister keeps talking about a new direction for the church, and we all know that wouldn't include him. She can't stand any of Nihil's sons, but Terzo is especially disliked. I think it's because he's more successful that Nihil ever was and she can't argue with the numbers he's pulling in.”

A silence fell as they considered what this could mean for their lives topside, although no one vocalised any of the fears this conjured up. Mountain was the first to eventually break it as he wandered over, the others not even knowing he had been paying attention to their conversation.

“Is that why we got summoned? This new direction?”

“Not exactly.” Aether worried his bottom lip between his teeth and Dew found himself wanting to reach up and stop him before he could draw blood, but stopped himself just in time. “The last ghouls were Secondo's originally, and they never showed Terzo the same loyalty they showed his brother. It's not surprising – we naturally feel the greatest loyalty to our summoner. We're here so he has ghouls that are fully loyal to him.

“Terzo's been trying to make the band bigger over the last year. He thinks if he can make it famous and appeal to more people he can increase the church's congregation that way, but the last ghouls didn't like it. Some of them went to Sister and said they thought the fame was going to his head and corrupting His message or something. She agreed with them, but instead of ordering Terzo to change or reinstating Secondo or anything, she said it was proof he wasn't working well with his ghouls and needed to summon new ones. A final chance she called it.”

“So everyone's pissed now.” Dew huffed. “No wonder the old ghouls keep glaring at us in the dining hall.”

“Pretty much.” Aether smiled wryly. “Terzo's been doing better than any Papa before him but Sister's never satisfied, the ghouls are angry and upset at being replaced, and Sister just hates everyone that isn't Nihil it seems.” He paused. “Although I think she hates him too, sometimes.”

“What do we do, then?” Ever the pragmatist, Mountain asked.

“We do our best.” Aether shrugged. “We follow Terzo's lead, play our parts, and hope it's enough.”

The atmosphere of discontent lingered a while longer, until the quiet sound of gentle snoring broke Aether and Mountain from their thoughts. In Aether's lap, soothed by the presence of his packmates and the quintessence ghoul's fingers in his hair, Dew's late nights of practicing his glamour only to still wake with the sun the next morning had finally caught up with him.

Aether smiled at him as he slept, loath to wake the fire ghoul after what had clearly been a few days of intense inner turmoil following Ifrit and then Zephyr's summonings. Seeing his face without the little crease in-between his brows, smoothed of all tension, Aether felt a warmth bubbling deep inside himself that wasn't just from the heat of the toasty fire ghoul in his lap.

When Dew woke a few hours later, it took him a moment to become aware of his surroundings. He baulked when he realised that he was still in Aether's lap, the quintessence ghoul absentmindedly stroking his hair while he read his book.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Ifrit cackled from the other couch. Dew hissed weakly as he struggled to sit up, but there was no heat behind it.

“Aether said you'd planned a pack activity tonight?” Zephyr asked from their position under Ifrit's outstretched arm. Despite the pair's afternoon activities, their elaborate hairstyle had miraculously remained perfectly intact.

“Uh, yeah. I thought we could have dinner in the Den? And Aeth said we could watch...” he had forgotten Aether's fumbled description already, “...something.” It sounded rather lame to Dew's ears as he said it out loud, but Zephyr, and Ifrit beside them, seemed excited by the prospect of spending time together more than the specifics of it.

“Want to get started?” Aether asked as Dew staggered to his feet, his tail going poker straight as he stretched like a cat. He nodded enthusiastically and, as he did, felt something caught in the back of his head bob with the movement. Feeling around, he found a small braid Aether had obviously been working on while he slept.

“Oh, sorry about that,” chuckling awkwardly, Aether scratched at the back of his neck, “it was too tempting.”

“Wait a moment!” Dew pinched the end of it to stop it unravelling, before darting to his bedroom. When he reappeared moments later, he was twisting a small elastic around the end of it. “There we go! Now it won't fall out.”

Aether thought that the bright smile Dew shot him could have replaced the sun.

“Come on, show me how the fire cabinet works, I've got pizza to cook!”

The quintessence ghoul took a moment to compose himself, doubled over by gasps of laughter before he explained that the machine Dew was impatiently tapping his toe next to was, in fact, called an oven.

“Alright, alright! It's very simple really. Just turn it on, unwrap the pizzas and put them in.”

Aether reached out to point at the one dial Dew needed to turn, only for the fire ghoul to snap his fingers and produce a small flame. He looked upon at Aether's mildly horrified expression with wide, curious eyes.

“Uh, no need for that, we just turn this knob here, see?”

It was too late though; Ifrit had caught sight of the fire and wandered over to ‘help’. Dew snapped his fingers repeatedly under his nose to make the taller fire ghoul go away – this was his lesson, after all – but instead Ifrit just stuck his tongue out at him. The snakelike, forked tip cast sparks as it lashed from side to side. With a hiss, Dew pounced. He gave chase after a cackling Ifrit who immediately tripped over the ottoman in the centre of the room.

“Bring it on, little flame!” he taunted from the floor.

“Please don't burn the couch cushions!” Aether begged weakly as the pair chased each other round the room like a pair of kits, small flames burning at the tips of their wiggling fingertips and tails.

“Are they trying to hurt each other?” Zephyr asked with a concerned look as Dew's wildly swinging hair got perilously close to one of Ifrit's many sources of fire.

With his maniacal grin and eyes blazing red, Aether was too distracted by Dewdrop to reply. He felt something equal distance between terrified and turned on by the fire ghoul, crouched on the back of the couch like a gargoyle. It was lucky his face was already flushed from his recent fits of laughter.

“I honestly have no idea.” Mountain shook his head, wincing as Dew leapt at Ifrit's shoulders and swiftly brought the pair crashing to the ground with a thud. “But they're awfully close to the plant I just spent an hour coaxing back from the brink of death.”

An insistent beep from the oven was all that broke the fight, if it could be considered one, apart. While the nature of the brawl was undetermined, Dewdrop being the winner was very clear. He hopped up lightly from where he had Ifrit pinned to the floor, brushing imaginary dirt off onto his pants and skipping back over to the kitchen.

“What next?” He asked Aether with an angelic smile, as if the last five minutes had been entirely a figment of the flustered quintessence ghoul's imagination.

“Wash your hands, then take the pizzas out of the boxes and the plastic they come in.” Aether gave an exaggerated eyeroll while he schooled his expression into something less awestruck. His feelings towards Dew specifically aside, he was more able to appreciate the silly moment between the two fire ghouls now that the imminent danger of burning down the Den was over.

Tail between his legs, Ifrit slunk back to his spot on the sofa. Giggling lightly, Zephyr smoothed his hair back into place.

“I let him win.” He huffed.

“I'm sure you did, dear.”

With Ifrit's pride soon recovered, he wandered back over to continue to investigate what Dew was up to only to be met by a warning hiss.

“I'm not interfering!” He said quickly, hands up in surrender. “I'm just curious! What're we having?”

“Pizza!” Dew grinned, turning on a dime to hold up a box and point at the aggressively lit image on the front. “I think you'll like it – it's my favourite food here and this one's spicy, like our food in the Pit!”

Ifrit's eyes lit up at the idea, as touched by Dew's gesture as he had hoped he would be.

“There's some non-spicy ones too for the rest of us, we grabbed several.” Aether was quick to add as he approached the ghouls on the sofa. His arms were full of bowls that he swiftly deposited on the coffee table. “And here's some more snacks for the movie.”

“What's a movie?” Zephyr echoed Dew's earlier question.

“It's a human way of telling stores, kinda like actors performing a play but they record it so we can watch it on that screen over there.” Aether pointed at the dormant television in the corner, but judged that he had done a bad job at explaining from the blank faces staring at him. “Hold on, I'll show you.”

With Dew crouched down by the oven, religiously keeping an eye on his precious project to ensure that nothing burned, Aether felt it was safe to leave him unattended while he ran to fetch his laptop from his room. It was old and slow, yet it was a luxury most weren't afforded, at least not without saving the meagre wages of human money they were paid. He had been lent one as part of his previous role with Terzo though, and nobody had asked for it back yet.

Aether helped Dew with the pizzas, slicing them and putting them onto plates, as he waited for the computer to boot up. While Dew ferried the food over to the coffee table, the ghouls all crammed themselves onto the larger of the couches to stare at Aether's screen. Mountain shifted to make room for Dew to squeeze between himself and Aether.

“A movie's like this, see?” Aether pulled up the first thing he could find on his desktop, and the assembled ghouls all cooed as the thin glass panel became filled with a moving image of a teenager in a car, clutching onto a small cactus. “What sort of stories do you like, I'll see what I can find. Mysteries, horror, something funny? There's loads on the shelves over there to watch on the bigger screen.”

“Is there a movie of the band?” Zephyr asked, curiously. “Everyone keeps talking about it, but I don't really know what a band even is.”

“Not a movie exactly,” Aether shook his head as he thought for a moment, “I've got a bunch of clips the press team took on the last tour though?”

He was met with four enthusiastic nods. While Aether searched for the folder containing the unedited footage from their last rituals, everyone dug into the food with gusto. Dew made a noise that Aether thought should have been illegal as he bit into his slice, the sound making Aether's pants beneath the laptop feel fractionally tighter all of a sudden. Dew didn't seem to notice the effect he had however, as his attention was soon on Ifrit's reaction. The larger fire ghoul's eyes blew wide as he experienced the same reaction Dew had done, his first night in the Den.

“That's somethin’ else!” He garbled through a mouth of food.  “Nice one, Dew!”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear; the one thing that could make the food taste even better. Everyone made similarly happy noises around their mouthfuls as Aether shuffled the bowls on the table to make space for the laptop, before grabbing a slice for himself. The early wonder at the human technology quickly faded, replaced with fascination at the job they would soon be doing as they watched the figures bop around on screen.

Dew recognised the bass guitar he had seen in the rehearsal room, clutched by a short ghoul he realised must be Mist. She looked so confident in the footage, strutting around the stage and interacting with the audience and the camera, very different from the calm demeanour of the ghoulette he had met down by the lake. Dew supposed it was some sort of persona she wore alongside the mask. He thought about how he might act on stage, in front of the roaring crowd the camera panned to. The idea of that many people frightened him slightly, but maybe he could do what Mist seemed to have done, formulate a personality to wear with his uniform? Perhaps if he was lucky, it would even wear off on him until he no longer had to fake the confidence.

Terzo himself seemed different on stage too; not that his personality changed, but more that he seemed to be dialled up to maximum intensity. His charisma, his flirtatious looks and comments, everything was very Terzo, and yet more besides. It seemed to Dew that being in the band was more than just playing or singing their parts, it was clear that the whole performance they put on was part of the act, even down to their interactions with each other on stage.

When Aether's own supply of videos ran out, he moved on to those taken by their fans themselves. It was clearer from these what the crowd tended to focus on when it came to the ghouls: their more exaggerated movements, the way they leered at each other, the camera, and even at their Papa. Watching them, the pack slowly began to understand what a calculated blend of barely-believable humanity and otherworldly ghoulish behaviour the act consisted of. It was just enough to be intriguing to their followers without creating suspicion amongst the wider population.

The pack sat huddled around Aether's laptop long past the time when the pizza ran out, marvelling at their predecessors' antics, the music they were making and the show they put on. They all had big shoes to fill, that was clear, and yet having these examples to copy made them all feel slightly more confident that this was something they would manage with time.

Alongside getting their bearings around the Abbey over the course of the next week, the whole pack was starting to get the hang of their glamours. Dew could reliably hold his seemingly indefinitely and through all but the most extreme distractions. The pack had had a fun afternoon testing this: after realising that no amount of patting his head while rubbing his stomach and hopping on one leg could disrupt him, they had moved on to trying to scare him out of it. After Dew had tried to slink off to his room to avoid the onslaught of ghouls jumping out at him only to find Aether lurking in the dark of the hallway, he had finally let out a yowl of shock and annoyance so loud that even the quintessence ghoul’s glamour had shimmered for a moment. Everyone stopped trying to test him after that.

Mountain too was almost at the point where he could feign humanity for an extended period, although whether this was due to practice or Dew’s self-professed excellent teaching skills was up for debate. The pair had made good progress together while Aether taught the newer ghouls, despite – or perhaps because of – taking it a great deal less seriously. The first time the five of them had gathered in the common room to introduce Zephyr to the process of hiding their ghoulish features, the more advanced pair had watched from the couch, parroting the words Aether had said to each of them in turn.

“Your glamour is a muscle you can flex.”

They whispered along as Aether spoke, earning themselves a giggle from the mated pair and an exasperated eye roll from their teacher.

After the day in the practice room where Dew had seen how Aether glamoured only his hands to play his guitar, the fire ghoul had set about trying to do the same. Without too much trouble, Dew had figured out how to selectively glamour parts of his body. It was a party trick Mountain had also taken to well, finding himself able to hide one antler at a time.

As the days passed and their progress continued, the words of Terzo and Aether that they had gently mocked slowly began to make more sense. Mountain especially had been struggling to recreate his progress from in front of the mirror spontaneously, once the visualisation he had relied on was no longer there. Dew had more luck in that regard, especially when only focussing on one part of his body, but also struggled to make a full, human-proof glamour from scratch. Slowly, the turn of phrase began to make more sense: now that they had the form of their glamour down, they could turn their attention to the sensation that calling it invoked. It was, after all, just like flexing a muscle.

With that thought in mind, soon both Dew and Mountain could reliably conjure their glamours without the need for the mirror. Despite their progress however, convincing either ghoul to exercise their glamour casually was proving a challenge. Mountain was reluctant to take the hit to his height that his came with his, and Dew grew increasingly frustrated by his inability to tuck his hair behind his horns, disliking the feeling of it behind his ears as Mountain had taken to doing. It was for this same reason that Aether’s well-meaning suggestion that Dew was ready to try forgoing his mask for short trips outside the Den had been met with disinterest.

An outcome that nobody had expected though was that as a result of this small frustration, Ifrit had finally broken through the last of Dew’s defences. In doing so, he had cemented himself as a truly different and more thoughtful fire ghoul than any Dew had come across before, mated or otherwise.

“Goddamn fucking SHIT!” Dew had screeched as he moved to swipe his hair back from his face for the thousandth time, only to catch his fingers in a tangle and pull, hard. The shock of the sudden, sharp pain brought tears unbidden to his eyes. “Why do we have to bother with a stupid glamour anyway, especially if we’re just gonna wear fake horns on our masks anyway? Who cares what some stupid humans think, they’ll just believe it’s a costume whatever we look like!”

“Plausible deniability, and we have to act human out of costume,” Aether sighed, not for the first time, “but mostly because it’s the rules.”

Dew growled, yanking his hands free and mourning the loose hairs that came with them.

“Right,” Aether clapped his hands, seeing Dew was about to go nuclear, “let’s call it a day on glamour practice for now. Anyone fancy a trip to the storeroom?”

Thankfully, the other ghouls all took the hint to leave and allow Dew a chance to cool down. He was, yet again, grateful to Aether for always knowing what to do or say in every situation. Dew supposed his quintessence helped, although he suspected that Aether really was just that in tune with his pack’s needs. Whatever the case may be, Dew greatly appreciated the momentary quiet in the Den. He loved his pack and all his new experiences topside, but it was exactly that newness and the noise of it all that he found hard. It was a lot of change, and often a bit too much, for the ghoul who had spent most of his previous life lurking alone in a cave. The shock of pulling his hair ordinarily wouldn’t have bothered him this much, but the unexpected jolt of pain on top of his other existing frustrations had simply been the final straw.

Calmed down, unglamoured once more and tangles brushed free, Dew had eventually returned to the common room to await the return of his pack. They were quieter than usual when they entered, the usual gentle bickering and laughter as they tumbled over one another to get through the door reduced to a subdued chatter. Dew felt a familiar prickle of guilt over the fact, yet one that was swiftly drowned out by gratitude. Still, he felt his hackles raise instinctively when Ifrit bounded up to him, as excited as a puppy and with just as little care for Dew’s resting scowl.

“Hey, I brought you this, thought you might find it helpful!”

Ifrit held out a C-shaped piece of plastic, looking for all the world like a kit showing off a cool rock they’d picked up on the volcano’s slopes. Dew took it, realising suddenly that it was a simple hairband like Ifrit wore, only in a fake-tortoiseshell plastic rather than the plain black he favoured.

“To hold your hair back when you’re glamoured,” he explained, “now we’re twinsies!”

Ifrit seemed so utterly delighted by this fact that Dew couldn’t hold back a smile of his own.

“Thanks, If.” He grinned, carefully placing it directly behind his horns. Tentatively, he pulled his glamour up. To his, and everyone else’s, delight the hairband functioned exactly as his horns had, keeping the curtain of blond hair from falling into his face.

“It works!” Dew cheered. “How do I look?”

While Dew meant the question as a joke, Ifrit’s tone was deadly serious in his reply.

“Handsome. Very.”

“He just means you look more like him now.” Zephyr said, rolling their eyes with a smile of their own. “Humble as ever. The colour suits you though.”

“Hey!” Ifrit protested a second too late as Dew and his mate giggled together at his reaction.

With that one small yet thoughtful action, Dew cast aside any lingering misgivings he may have had about the fire ghoul; he was living, breathing proof that not all of their species were self-centred jerks, and Dew knew would be foolish to throw away a friend like Ifrit.

To everyone’s relief, by the end of his first week topside Ifrit was also finally starting to get the hang of his glamour. He had by no means mastered it, but something about the process seemed to have clicked for him at last, allowing him to actually begin to switch his form rather than just cause the edges to waver. Dew thought he was at least half-correct about his theory of fire ghoul vanity, or at least sureness of self, hindering his progress. The first part of his ghoulish form he had managed to hide had indeed been his spines; whether because he could still remember having a body without them, or if they really had represented something Ifrit wished he could change about himself at some point in time, it wasn’t clear.

What Dew suspected the real key in his breakthrough was though was Zephyr. The air ghoul had showered praise on both Ifrit’s human form, and on every minutia of progress he made. Whatever boost of confidence it had given him, be it in his slowly developing abilities or in his belief that his human glamour was still a form he could feel proud to exist in, it was enough that Ifrit was making progress at last.

Zephyr had had noticeably less trouble than their mate, taking to their glamour even more easily than Mountain had. They would be the first to suggest that their existing familiarity with hiding and revealing their wings had given them some advantage, but Aether was also quick to point out that a glamour was no small feat for any ghoul, given how many differences there were to bring about at once.

Of their pack, Dew was of the impression that Zephyr had the most striking human form. Whereas the rest of them could pass unnoticed amongst the sea of Siblings within the Abbey, Zephyr would have stood out amongst them regardless of their ghoulish status. Their skin, naturally a pale grey-blue, had almost no colour to it; as see-through as alabaster, highlighting the blue veins within. Their hair was marginally closer in colour to Dew’s in this form, again appearing devoid of pigment rather than seeming to be spun from platinum or silver. As Ifrit’s spines had reflected themselves in his glamour as ridged scars, so too did Zephyr’s wing feathers transfer a hint of themselves. The skin of their upper arms hung a little looser on their frame, and along the path their wings followed from their wrists to their waist was a downy fuzz of equally pale hairs.

The pack were always destined to stand out amongst mortals; His love poured into every aspect of their creation had set that as truth from the earliest days of their species. Dew couldn’t help but wonder how effective their glamoured disguises would really be at hiding that fact.

As the ghouls settled in and grew accustomed to topside life and their glamours, so too did the weather finally begun to warm up. Spring had sprung at last, encompassing the Abbey in its warm, sunlit fingers. The advantage of their private patio was also quickly becoming apparent; Aether had frequently found the earth ghoul lying flat out on the ground wearing not a stitch of clothing as he absorbed the light like a plant. To Mountain’s delight, he had discovered that the freckles in his glamour became more pronounced the more he exposed his ghoulish form to the sun. With a chuckle, Aether had reminded him that, should he feel the need to photosynthesise while glamoured, he would have to be more careful. Human skin, especially pale and freckled skin like his, burned easily in the sun, enough so that humans even had a special lotion to try and stop it.

Ifrit and Dewdrop could also frequently be found lying alongside Mountain. In the moments that Ifrit was not with Zephyr and Dew was not somewhere else with Aether or Mountain, it was more than likely that the pair could be found outside on the small patio, lying on their backs as the warm stone and re-emerging spring sunshine gently toasted them. They didn’t always talk during their sun sessions, often just dozing in the blissful space between sleep and wakefulness.

The weather still wasn’t completely perfect however, despite its frequent warm and sunny assertions to the contrary. One of Dew’s lizard-times, as Mountain had taken to affectionately calling it, had been rudely interrupted by fat, wet droplets of rain landing on his face. He had wrinkled his nose at the feeling, scrambling hastily to his feet and bolting for the door.

“Your water half really is buried deep, isn’t it!” Mountain had laughed as Dew plodded back inside, raking fingers through his damp hair lest it become frizzy, but not before tossing a middle finger gesture behind him at the ghoul. Aether wore a knowing smile from his seat near the window which Dew didn’t acknowledge as he joined him.

On another such day, when the three sun-loving ghouls were laid outside and Aether and Zephyr were watching them contently from the shaded common room behind the French windows, Aether discovered a hidden talent of Zephyr’s. The air ghoul had been contentedly curled up in a chair, their tail lazily waving in the warm spring air as they hunched over the small notebook that normally lived atop the bureau.

“Whatcha doing?” Aether asked, curious what was holding their attention so keenly.

“Just doodling,” they shrugged, gesturing to the notepad, “I hope it’s alright I took this?”

“Go for it.” Aether waved the question off. “Can I see?”

Zephyr shrugged but passed the notebook over willingly enough before returning to gazing outside. Aether wasn’t sure what he was looking at to begin with. The lined page was littered with small, seemingly disconnected shapes, all painstakingly captured by the patchy blue ink of a biro that he was certain had been lying around the Den for longer than he had been topside. Somehow though, Zephyr had wielded it in such a way that they had near-perfectly recreated what Aether realised were snippets of the scene they could see outside the window.

Most were of Ifrit as the fire ghoul soaked up the sun; the way a lock of his shiny black hair fell just so in the light, the glint of a bead of sweat on his bare chest, the curl of his lip as he smiled at something another ghoul said. Amongst them Aether spotted one that had to be of Dew, a small collection of simple lines that were undeniably similar to the curve where the proud bridge of his nose met his face. The talent reflected just on the one page was beyond anything Aether had seen or could even dream of replicating himself.

“They're incredible,” he whispered, as though his words could disturb the delicate strokes, “you've got a real gift, Zeph. I could get you some better paper, if you want? Nicer than this awful old telephone pad?”

Zephyr looked up, startled out of their reverie.

“Your sketches,” Aether repeated with a smile, “they're very good. There's proper paper if you wanted it, without the lines, Ifrit could even make you charcoal.”

Zephyr appeared to regard his words thoughtfully as they took the pad back, but only uttered a small thank you before returning to their drawing.

For a few days after that, Aether remained unsure if they had even fully understood what he had been offering, despite noticing how the stack of plain printer paper he had left out ‘accidentally’ had shrunk. He thought he had spotted them sketching again since, however every time he drew close, they had suddenly had pressing business elsewhere or had twisted to hide their work. Aether fretted to himself; had he made them uncomfortable with his interest? It wasn't until Zephyr silently presented him with a small drawing that he understood.

The image was carefully rendered, a mixture of detailed pencil lines and the deep, organic shading that could only come from charcoal. Aether gasped as the sketch on the page came to life before his eyes. Rather than the small snippets Zephyr had captured out the patio windows, this was a whole scene: an interaction between two people perfectly recreated in shades of black and white. Aether saw himself as Zephyr saw him; smiling indulgently while leaned casually against the kitchen counter. In front of him was Dewdrop, his head tilted back and mouth open as he barked out a laugh at something the quintessence ghoul had said, eyes half closed as a rare smile tugged at his eyes. It felt strangely intimate, seeing it through another's eyes, a private moment observed by accident.

“It's beautiful.” He whispered reverently. “Thank you.”

Zephyr shrugged nonchalantly, but it was clear they were pleased by the praise.

Days later, Aether also saw Zephyr handing Dew something. He burned to see what moment the air ghoul had chosen to immortalise, to find out exactly what had made Dew smile like he did, in the wide way that took over his face without him meaning it to.

“Did you know Zephyr could draw?” Dew asked later that night, when the pair of them somehow found themselves the last two left in the common room after the rest of the pack had retreated to bed. Despite having the whole lounge to themselves, they were still sat directly beside one another on the same couch.

“Mmm, I've seen some of their sketches.” Aether hummed, not giving away too much, and especially not the fact that his own personal drawing was currently sat in pride of place on his dresser, propped up to ensure the charcoal didn't smudge until he could find it a frame. “Good, aren't they.”

“Yeah. I never even saw them doing it.”

Dew leaned over to the end table beside the couch and picked up a postcard-sized piece of paper, carefully tucked inside another sheet to protect it.

“I need to get a holder for it, like the tour picture in your room has,” Dew mused out loud as he carefully uncovered it, thinking along the same lines as Aether, “don't wanna ruin it.”

The picture Dew held out was just as full of life as Aether's, although the scene captured within was very different. Instead of a private, quiet moment recreated in soft lines and shading, Dew's picture was as loud and bold as the subject matter. Lying out on the patio, he saw the shapes of two laughing fire ghouls, the larger pointing up at an invisible cloud above. It warmed Aether's heart to see the image of the pair who were becoming fast friends, despite a rocky start, and even more so given Dew's delight at it.

Some small part of him felt a sense of relief that it was him and him alone who had received the sketch of them in the kitchen however, as if Zephyr had sensed his growing affections for the fire ghoul and was not about to reveal them unprompted.

“It's wonderful,” he said instead, “I'll help you get a frame.”

Despite the lack of schedule in their early days topside, there was one thing the newly summoned ghouls were still expected to do: attend weekly mass in the Chapel. Eventually they would be expected to wear their band uniforms, Aether explained, however for now they were permitted to attend in the regular Abbey uniform of black dress shirts and slacks. They could be masked or glamoured, but either way their glamour had to be flawless. From time to time there would be external attendees, people who were open to the ideas of the church yet unprepared to see physical manifestations of Him up close. Aether's oft-repeated phrase rang true again: plausible deniability. After another trip to the storage all four new ghouls had an Abbey uniform and, to Dewdrop and Mountain's disgust, shiny leather shoes to go with them.

Similarly to when the pack went to dinner, Aether led them to a dark pew near the back of the Chapel. They were slightly early and if asked, the quintessence ghoul would have neither confirmed nor denied that he had pretended the service began earlier than it did to avoid them being late. Aside from claiming a whole pew to themselves, he was keen that they not attract the ire of Sister Imperator and the Clergy at their first official attendance of their reign as band ghouls.

Full to the brim with ghouls and siblings, the Chapel was quite a sight. Even at mealtimes Dew didn't think he had seen this many of the Abbey's inhabitants together all at once, and the sheer number was enough to make his hackles raise behind his mask and his nose wrinkle at the myriad of unfamiliar scents in the air. Still though, once everyone settled down he thought that the experience was rather magical. It was sunset, and the golden hour's light pouring through the windows and filling the space was only made deeper and warmer as it filtered through the reds and oranges of the panes of the fire realms.

Dew felt himself holding his breath alongside the dozens of others filling the Chapel as Terzo swept out of the vestry, his robes billowing behind him. As Terzo began to speak, his voice both filled the space and simultaneously felt as though he were speaking directly into Dew's ear. He spoke with a reverence for Him that Dew thought he used to feel, long ago, and in a tone that he thought might one day might sway him back to the faith that had let him and so many of his new pack down. Dew clung onto every word the man spoke as he addressed both ghouls and humans.

At some point there was singing, Terzo chanting prayers and a small group of ghouls and siblings leading the responses. He did his best to follow the sermon, trying to understand and internalise his words even as much of it went over his head. Their Papa spoke about giving in to the temptations of what some would call sins, how letting themselves revel in the life they were given rather than restricting it would set them free from guilt and suffering. Before too long though, Dew's mind began to wander.

He still felt guilty over so many things; from the way he had acted towards certain packmates, to the way he still felt about aspects of his life both before and now he was topside. He thought Terzo was probably correct – he would feel much lighter if he could cast that guilt aside and accept his flaws as just a natural part of the experience of living. He was a Hell-born being after all: if he couldn't sin without guilt then what hope did the wide-eye siblings hanging onto his every word have?

Envy was still at the forefront of his thoughts regarding Ifrit and Zephyr, green-eyed and grumbling deep in his heart. All his misgivings about the pair could somehow be reduced to their bond and the fact that that Dew's closest reflection topside had gotten everything he never had in the blink of an eye. He felt somewhat justified in his thoughts though; Dew figured it would be strange if he wasn't jealous. If someone was thrown into a world that wasn't fair, then being envious of another being dealt better cards was surely less of a sin and more a proportionate response.

Perhaps his envy was something that could guide him through the troubled waters of his relationship with his newly bonded packmates: a single feeling he could pinpoint as real in the turbulent sea of his emotions. It could guide him to shore, to a place where he could come to terms with his lot in life and eventually find his way to accepting it.

Something that hovered somewhere between lust and greed also simmered when he looked at Aether, another source of his guilt. However, Dew considered, Aether had only said he didn’t want a mate, he had said nothing about relationships of the more casual variety. In fact, he seemed to be actively pursuing Dew in that manner if the way he singled him out for extra touches and glances was anything to go by. They would be easy temptations to allow himself to give into as well, he thought, ones where the only thing holding Dew back was a fear of the guilt he would feel if he did. If he could cast that off and trust that Aether knew his own mind well enough to set boundaries, letting Dew follow his lead, then those sins were within easy reach.

Pride: now that was a sin Dewdrop was familiar with. What was his obsession with his hair and other superfluous elements of his appearance if not pride? He hadn’t used to feel that way, being more familiar with shame in the earlier years of his life. While reflecting on his prideful vices though, he realised he felt no guilt about them. They had been the security blanket that kept him warm in cold, dark times both before and after his soul marks appearance when he was coming to terms with his identity, then the life raft to keep himself afloat when his water markings threatened to drown him. His pride hurt no one, so why should it cast even a shadow of guilt? Dew felt the softer kind of pride even of his own feelings surrounding the subject; like they were a blueprint he should seek to replicate in other aspects of his life.

What did that leave him; wrath, gluttony and sloth? Dew didn’t feel particularly aligned with any of them, save perhaps gluttony in the most literal sense, but who could blame a hungry ghoul? Nobody, not even Terzo, had said he had to excel at every aspect of sin though, even as a hellish being. Truly, only He alone could encompass all seven and still find the strength to cast away the guilt. Dew was lost in his thoughts for long enough that Terzo had soon not only finished his sermon but was wrapping up the whole evening mass.

“Alright, fuck off now!” He clapped his hands to dismiss the congregation. “I’m sure you’ve all got much more pleasurable things to be doing on a fine evening like this! Go forth and sin, my children!”

Dew stayed in his pew well after Terzo had swept back into the vestry, letting the hoard of restless ghouls and siblings pour out of the Chapel. He considered how he felt after Terzo’s guided self-reflection. Better, he thought. Not perfect – he still harboured guilt over leaving Mountain all alone the night of Zephyr’s summoning – but better. Dew at last felt that many of the other things that weighed heavily on his mind were, if not justified, at least understandable.

Coming back to himself, Dew felt the gaze of his pack fall on him, waiting for him to get up so they could leave. Both Ifrit and Zephyr's eyes were glazed, as if they had been dozing off already, and neither Mountain nor Aether seemed to be feeling the ground shaking revelations that Dew was. Did they not also feel lighter? Freer to embrace the sinful parts of their lives as simply their natural ghoulish reactions to the overwhelming experience that was life? Clearly not: Mountain's stomach rumbled, interrupting him and making it clear that Chapel time was over; now it was dinner.

Oh well, Dew thought to himself as he got to his feet and shuffled sideways out of the pew, maybe he could make good on some gluttony while he was there.

[thevampiremarie]

Summertime Sadness (part 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Ten years ago: the first time you met Simon

Today: the first time Ghost meets you

Tags: mental illness, therapeutic boarding school, self harm, suicide attempt/suicidality, self harm, abuse, parental abandonment, much the same as last chapter. This fic is unedited because I don’t feel like editing it lol. If you see spelling/grammar issues, no you didn’t.

TEN YEARS AGO

Reader POV

-

It’s intake day.

Intake day happens once a week, always on Wednesday.

You don’t know why they pick Wednesday. It seems pretty arbitrary, doesn’t it?

On intake day, the nurses and counselors make all the current residents of the inpatient program line up to greet the newbies. You actually look forward to intake day. Everyone here is so boring and routine; your roommate never speaks unless spoken to and she always keeps her earbuds in. On intake day, the hope that someone nice will be admitted survives for the few hours of the intake itself.

It usually dies right after. There was one polite girl who smiled when you waved last week, but she was transferred to a different facility that night before you could learn her name.

You’ve been here for three weeks, so that’s three intake days.

You’re not sure why you’ve been here so long. It seems a little excessive; you’d think by now they’d realize your stuff isn’t so bad and maybe you could transition to outpatient appointments?

It’s a little dissociation and some minor depression. Not bad at all.

But your doctors agree, albeit gently, that you should stay for the full five month course.

The program isn’t so bad. The facility sits on a sprawling multi-acre property in the British countryside, where everything is beautiful and verdant and always chilly. It’s lovely. The tea is good. You’re getting used to how they take it here. It’s nothing like the sweet tea you drink back home.

You suppose that’s another reason why they won’t let you go home even though you’re okay; there isn’t a home to go back to. Your dad hasn’t looked you in the eye since Mom left. At least the orderlies here greet you in the morning.

(What Dad doesn’t know is that before she left, she told you she loved you and to wait for her. Soon, she’ll take you away from this place and you’ll never have to see your dad again.)

Before you head to the foyer, you check your hair in the mirror of your room’s suicide-proofed bathroom. A young teenage face stares back at you with cheeks flushed red from the sun. You trace your deep smile lines with the tip of your finger, then practice smiling. You would have feel better about moving to a therapeutic boarding school if you’d been greeted with a smile.

At first, you think the newest crop of poor souls will be uninteresting at best. Listless rich kids detoxing off Mommy’s coke, frightened preteens who’ve never been away from their parents for an extended period of time, and a few teenagers straight from an ER, IV bags and all.

And then you see him get off the bus last.

He’s tall, towering over everyone else. A lanky, almost skeletal build, with a bored, aloof expression on his face. He hides the Zippo lighter he was playing with in his sleeve before the nurses catch and confiscate it.

There’s something horrifically severe about him. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, but he carries himself like he’s a blade and the world is filled with monsters.

His eyes are large and dark, rich brown irises rimmed with pale blonde eyelashes. And they’re kind, even though he would probably hate having that pointed out.

You decide then and there that you’ll befriend him. He could use a friend; everyone here does. He’s beautiful in his sharpness and elegant in his abrasiveness. Maybe you can coax more of that hidden kindness out, show him that it’s worth more than his anger. You wouldn’t be able to stay away if you tried.

You both like playing with fire, though you prefer less literal ones.

-

TODAY

Ghost POV

-

Your smile fades swiftly as if it was never there to begin with.

There are two ghosts in this room. That’s what you are; a ghost of the girl he knew.

He watches and waits for you to shift uncomfortably and start blabbering to fill the silence like you used to. “Why’d you make them call me?” Ghost asks when it’s clear that you won’t.

As soon as you explain, he’s out of here. Ghost meant it when he said he never wanted to see you again.

You’re the last living reminder of the past he’s tried so hard to kill. The beeping sounds of your heart monitor spell out his mistakes in a grating, irritating rhythm.

Your answer disappoints his expectations. “I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Ghost doesn’t hear any wistfulness or longing in your voice, anything that would tell him that you’re clinging on to the boy you thought he was. Only a bone-dry and hollow statement of facts.

“What do you want?”

You ignore his question. At fifteen, you were good at that. At twenty-five, you’re better. “You got any cigarettes I could bum? You look like you still smoke them,” You say as you fiddle with your torn, bleeding nail beds with the classic anxiety of nicotine withdrawal.

He does that too when a mission stretches too long without a resupply and he finishes his cigarettes early to stave off hunger.

Ghost remembers fighting with you over the pack of smokes he smuggled into the program. He would hold it way above your head and laugh as you struggled to reach them. But you never gave up - they were bad for him, and you liked him too much to see him die of lung cancer.

He remembers the determination in your eyes and your unwavering faith that he could be saved.

“They’re bad for you,” Ghost echoes.

If you remember that moment, you don’t show it. “You know what else is fucking bad for you?” Your tone is so acerbic that it gives him whiplash.

He can’t resist taking a shot. “What, being a prick?” You just… bring out the worst in him. You make him feel as unhinged and unmoored as he was when you first met.

You roll your bloodshot eyes.

“I wasn’t going to call you out on that. I was going to say benzos and vodka. Also throwing yourself headfirst off a bridge.”

“Oh.”

What is he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you come?” You ask after a long moment of quiet interspersed by that fucking heart monitor.

Ghost grinds his teeth into each other as he reflects. He hates doing that; the inside of his skull is a bad place. “…I don’t know,” He admits. Coming here was a mistake; Ghost understands that now.

The foul taste on the back of his tongue is guilt. But why? You did this to yourself. You brought him here to play games and fuck him up, so why is he the one who feels… bad?

You sigh. “Simon-“

“Ghost. It’s Ghost now,” He cuts you off with more violence than necessary.

Your mouth settles into a tight, pained line. “Ghost. Go away.”

“But you called me here.”

That provokes a reaction.

Ghost sees it and immediately wishes it hadn’t.

You stare him straight in the eye, your dilated pupils peel back his mask and see the face underneath. Your skin is tinged gray and your bottom lip blooms red with blood from where you’ve bitten through it.

He wants back the child sobbing for his forgiveness on her knees, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And it was a mistake, and I should never have done it, and I just wanted the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t going to pick up the phone. That I was truly alone.”

So the memory of him is a knife you’re using on yourself. Fucking disturbing.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow as you wave. “Bye.”

Right.

That’s it.

Though your dismissal rankles, Ghost does as you ordered and takes his leave of you.

His work phone vibrates a few times.

Only one person calls that it. “Captain,” Ghost greets.

Captain Price clears his throat on the other side of the line. “Lieutenant. When can we expect you back?”

‘Tomorrow’ is on the tip of Ghost’s tongue.

He’s never taken a day off in his career, which means he’s got at least a year or two in built up vacation time. “I’ll be gone for a while longer, sir. Not sure yet how long,” Ghost answers promptly.

It’s only for a few more days, a week at most. Long enough to make sure you won’t try to kill yourself again, long enough for the guilt freezing his blood and choking his lungs to fade.

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

TAGGING: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner

[reingkings]

hey! what made you think up your inhun fic? its so unique and i am currently mid reading it so i want to yap about it.

normally i dont like frontman gihun but the way you write it has me so intrigued!!! the whole concept is so good. i hope you know i think your writing is so good

Thank you so much, I really appreciate that 🥺 I will answer the question but just to note while there won’t be specific spoilers the concept itself is a spoiler for the direction of the fic.

Anyways —

The genesis of this fic was that I had just finished season 1 & 2 completely devastated, literally walking around like a ghost (it was my first time watching the series). And then I read an announcement that there was going to be US spin-off of the Squid Game set in the same world.

And I just had a moment of, Oh, this is going to be a tragedy. And I really can’t stomach tragedies.

At the same time I was really getting into Inhun but specifically how their paths are so similar that if they had intersected in a different way or at different time could they cancel out some of each other’s misfortunes? Would In-ho have to abandon his family, would Gi-hun have to face the cruelty of that season 2 finale scene (the way LJJ cries breaks my heart) if things had happened in a different order?

Spoilery stuff below read more line:

And also, I wanted the true villain to be alive – that being Oh Il-nam, may he rest in hell – and for him to see justice served.

So I thought, alright, what if they lived in a gentler world? What if, at his darkest moment, right on the crux of abandoning his humanity, In-ho meets a Gi-hun who can’t give up his humanity in an even worse position? What if there was a world where the games could actually end?

I didn’t really have an interest in an evil Gi-hun or a very nice sweet In-ho. I wanted an In-ho that was this 👌 close to being the Frontman in our universe, with a splinter of coldness and almost callousness to some of his actions but not all, just teetering on the edge. I wanted a Gi-hun that was still soft and hopeful but an even more of a tragic figure? (Because you know, a belief in the intrinsic value of human life would be a horrifying thing to abandon). Gi-hun got the short end of the stick.

And then honestly, the last piece of the puzzle was that I was obsessed with “Not” by Big Thief, and I had somehow associated the fic to the song, especially during this verse:

It's not the hunger revealing

Nor the ricochet in the cave

Nor the hand that is healing

Nor the nameless grave

Had me thinking of the snow scene in chapter 2. Just this kind of hunger for a healing hand, or a soft touch that can save you while you’re in the pit. And to me the nameless grave is all those people who died in the crematorium on the island without their loved ones ever knowing, but it’s also all that kindness and softness of the victors that they leave there to never speak of again (as happens to Gi-hun and In-ho).

And that’s how I powered through the rest of starting it (starting is the hardest part for me).

Actually huh 🤔 I guess it was a fix-it all along, but I didn’t want to tag it like that bc it doesn’t fix canon in this universe.

I’m actually really excited for chapter 9 because I can finally explain Gi-hun and reveal the mechanics of the world and the way ahead. but AHHH that’s why it’s taking me a looong time to write it. I think it’s been a month and a half since I started chapter one so it’s not bad, but it feels slow.

[allurasbian]

your transfem keith posts are so fucking good i feel a kinship with you as an adamant transfem lance enjoyer. please tell me more about keith’s transition and her being trans in general i want to hear it all 🎤🎤🎤

-@alluraaaa

ummm hehe well she's my og tgirl headcanon. paved the way for some other ladies i adore in other shows. i can tell u i've thought she was a girl serious style since season 2 and i watched this show more or less since it airedddddd... tee bee aich hard to say what set me off i think i was very touched by how close she plays things to the chest there's really something there about. like. being a shy girl mistaken for a rude standoffish man by people who don't know her. the way lance sees her. i think the way she maintains distance from allura while clearly admiring her greatly is super dykey and great. the guilt about adoring another girl.

i can't imagine her figuring herself out before 20 imo i think she like noticed there are things she likes about howwww like her clothes fit or her long hair frames her face but she's very very good at just not looking at it directly. TBH ive had like in the back of my mind a very character study style timeloop fic i would lovee to write but DONT go getting your hopes up my partner can attest to how much i am a nuisance with my fanfic ideas that i never follow through on... but like i think there's a tension there also with the fact that i see shiro as a trans man so like she looks up to him and recognizes herself in his transness but can't articulate it but also knows there's a separation there because he has been more sure of himself longer & he's like. an actual man. Like not that the tension is interpersonal i kind of think keith would just if anything feel weirdly guilty for not being what shiro wanted HIMSELF & shiro would be horrified if he knew about that bc he only ever wanted his best friend to feel comfortable as herself. <-ig this is a bit the black paladin thing. the metaphor being he's proud of her for things she can do that she doesn't really want. & it's not that she's not capable it's just that they are different and there's a bit of a miscommunication. btw can you tell im still mad we didnt get black paladin shiro back come onnnn come the fuck onnnnnnn

um i think probably allura's look and affect means a lot to her in ways she can't articulate. like aspirationally. also with being attracted to allura and unwilling to admit it. so this gets also into keith and allura being so alike but allura has something keith can't quite reach because she's not mature enough to articulate what it is. and allura can feel something from keith reflected at her but can't place it. btw allura knows who she is because it's all she has left. um. i think there's something here about "i dont need to know where i come from i know who i am" i think she DOES know who she is you could also say she shelves freaking out about gender because she's like. whatever is bothering me atm isn't making itself clear but i know who is important to me. the closet may be stifling but it feels safe at the same time. not my recommendation but keith is the type of person to put stuff on a shelf unforchieszzz also gay bitches who are repressed always make me craziest

& well i don't have a name im bad at that. i do think her gamer tag would be @/KittyRose. i can see her really having gotten into alt fashion because of the androgyny it allows forrrrr & i like to imagine, like, her perfectly nice straightgirl girlfriend in the past that things just could not work out with because she wanted keith to be her boyfriend and keith wanted to be her girlfriend. &then also that like to an outsider she seems like, maybe a gay boy. so that Also makes everything confusing because she's tried and she just does nottt like men that way. i don't think she'd be super feminine like i said but i think assuming that not feminine means masculine is sillyyy i think she's practical she works with her hands & she likes to occasionally get dressed up. i like her bigass boots. Ok i dont know thanks foryour time.

[memo-blogs]

Here With Me (Part II)

Part I Pairing: Spawn Astarion x female Durge Tav

Tags: NSFW, angst, fluff, processing trauma, a trauma flashback, choking, questionable sex that turns into not-so-questionable sex?, oral, light hints at dom-sub stuff, hints at Tav being bratty - it's a wild ride but ultimately kinda wholesome??

Summary: In part 1 Tav said to stop and walked away from Astarion and sexy times because he wasn't all there, and Astarion tries to push past his traumas too fast, resulting in some icky bedroom things that Tav manages to navigate into not so icky but very fun fun bedroom things. In short, Astarion takes some babysteps in being present and enjoying bedroom time. :D

A/N: This is a three-parter series where things are oof before they get nice and spicy. Still waiting on my AO3 account, who knew you had to queue for one for like 2 weeks!? If and when I get one, there is spicier than Tumblr allows fanart inspired by this fic available, huhu. Hope you like! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I love you” Tav repeated. “And I can’t do this when it feels like you’re still letting yourself be used.” She put on a nightgown and walked towards the door, stealing one last tearful glance at her vampire companion. “It hurts us both when you do.” And with that, she left. Quietly, Astarion closed the bedroom door behind Tav. He walked up to their shared, empty bed. Suddenly he grabbed a pillow and, screaming, flung it at the wall. He collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

“Where do you go, when we make love?” Her words haunted him.

“Why do you perform like this is a duty where you try to be as little a part of it as you can?”

“I cannot bear the thought of making you please me. I had hoped I was your equal. Your lover.” “I can’t do this anymore, Astarion.”He hated how sharp she was. Hated it, and also loved her so very much for it. She was right, and he knew she was. He had just hoped maybe, just maybe she hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t commented on his lack of presence in a long time… if he was being honest to himself, he had been a little disappointed, thinking she neither noticed or cared. But how could he demand she would, when no one else ever had? She had clocked it the first time they made love. Asked him where he went – he had given his usual charming lies, and they both left it at that. Now that he thought back, Astarion had seen her looking at him, especially during their intimate moments, as if with a sad question in her eyes. And, like a coward, he had run away from that look. Just like he had run away from what he had to do to survive. He sat on his knees, staring at their bedroom floor for a long time, reminiscing how he needed to escape to not go insane when he was still enslaved to Cazador. He wept at all the innocent people he had lured to their demise with his sweet lies and empty promises. To angrily claim he didn’t care was another lie to protect his heart. Tav’s mournful face swam back into the forefront of his thoughts. 

“Am I someone you need to forget?”The question itself was almost unbearable. In his 200 years of existence, Tav was the first one to truly see him. The one who saved him, the one who had loved him with all his good and bad qualities. Of course she noticed he faded away during sex. Astarion felt a tear roll down his cheek again. Of course she would care.. and want him to be there. But what if he couldn’t do it? Break down these walls he’d built to protect himself for so many years. Would Tav leave? The thought made Astarion feel afraid, and alone. He wasn’t used to feeling this exposed. He began to walk around as he reasoned with himself. Tav would not leave him over this, but it would make her sad. She was already so very sad. He loathed her being sad. But she was right to ask – and that was the impetus here; she had asked, not demanded. She had never made him do a thing. So whatever was happening now, he was doing to them both. Didn’t Astarion want to be present with Tav? I mean, why wouldn’t he? Now that he thought of it, it felt… well, ridiculous. Of course he wanted to be with Tav more than anything. To be closer to her, to feel her. Without thinking, he had wandered through their home, finding Tav sleeping on their living room couch. She was crying in her sleep. He looked at her and his heart ached. All this time with her, and she had seen him. Accepted him as he was, at his lowest, weakest. At his worst. She had given everything to him. She saw him, she looked at him with a love so complete it made Astarion dizzy… while he held back and escaped. He was like a shadow escaping the sun. Too afraid to be present in the bedroom, of all places. The one place where he had held some sort of dominion for so long. It hurt to admit. He quietly knelt beside his sleeping Tav, and gently dried her tears. “I had hoped I was your equal.”He hadn’t realized how little he actually gave her, or how hard this was for him. Astarion gingerly stroked Tav’s hair. She seemed to sleep easier, being cared for. Astarion found himself smiling. Gods, how beautiful she was. How easily she seemed to love. He kissed her forehead. “You’re right, you know. I’m so sorry love… you deserve better”, he whispered to the night, not expecting her to hear in her sleep. He wasn’t sure how, but he was going to make this up to her. He got up to leave, when he felt a gentle tug on his robe. “Hey”, Tav whispered. 

He turned back around, heart racing. “Hello love.” “You okay?” “I – well, no. Or I don’t know.” Astarion sat next to Tav on the sofa. There was a heavy silence as both waited for the other. Astarion finally broke the silence with “I’m sorry.” “I heard”, Tav replied. “So, what now?” “Ah, well… I suppose we try again and this time, I do it right… right? I’ll be honest darling, I feel utterly lost at sea. I feel… vulnerable.” Astarion couldn’t even look at her, but he did want to make an effort. He felt a wave of comfort wash over him when Tav leaned next to him, pulling his arm into a hug. “It’s okay. We have our entire lives ahead of us, and we can take it slow. One step at a time, you know? It doesn’t have to happen right away.” “I do want to try. So how would I… how does this work?” Tav couldn’t help herself, and she laughed. “Are you telling me you, Astarion, prince of the night and the doom of many a lonely being looking for love, are at a loss how to proceed?” “Laugh all you’d like.. I know how to flirt with you and how to pleasure you, but...” He paused to look for the words. “I’ve never been with anyone in a way where I uh… gave myself to them.” He looked at her, feeling oddly shy. “Not in the way you’re asking me to.” Momentarily the truth of Astarion’s life pained her, but then Tav smiled. “Oh, so am I to be your first?” She mimicked his mannerisms, twirling her hand. “I’m honoured.” She kissed him. “It’s easier than you think, don’t worry.” Tav held his hands. “Think of me. Of what you love about me, of the things that make you desire me. And know you can have me…” She leaned in to Astarion’s ear and gave it a nibble. “...And have your way with me.”

Astarion felt a rush of arousal. “Are you sure?” Tav nodded, her robe conveniently sliding off one shoulder and showing her deliciously freckled skin. Time stood still as Astarion hesitated. Then, he lunged at her. His kisses were forceful, and his hands wandered up and down Tav hungrily. She gave a surprised moan, but caressed his back encouragingly. They both disrobed entirely while at it. He paused to look at Tav who looked right back at him. They were both breathing heavily. He didn’t know what he saw in Tav’s eyes but looking at her was… he felt scared he was losing control. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He grabbed Tav’s throat. She gasped but didn’t resist. He pushed her down into the sofa and pushed his tongue in her mouth. He felt her respond to him, ever so softly. He pulled away from the kiss with a growl, using his hand to find her breast to squeeze. She moaned and bucked slightly, but he didn’t linger. His hand was sliding downwards already. “My, my,” he remarked when he felt her wetness. “I’m flattered, darling.” He did not waste time but lifted Tav’s hips up and pushed inside. She gasped and looked at him, bewildered. But also with absolute… what was that in her eyes? It scared Astarion to look at. He put both his hands on her hips and thrust himself into her violently.

He thrust again. A moan, almost pained. The boy was young, and youth in general is pretty. It was a small comfort - Cazador had been particularly angry with him that night. He knew he had to hurry with this boy, and bring him back to his master… but the art of seduction was the only good part of his existence, and he wished to linger, just a while longer. He pulled on the lad’s hair, angrily pounding away, hoping for a moment of release, of comfort, of a good feeling, before he had to return to Cazador’s palace, his prison, the rats, the disgusting rats… if he would even be allowed to feed. He put his hands on the boy’s throat as he kept thrusting. Did he wish to drink the boy, or to strangle Cazador? Maybe both. Maybe - “A-astarion...” Tav wheezed. Astarion felt himself waking. What happened? He saw Tav’s hand on his arm, softly caressing him. He saw himself, on top of Tav, both his hands around her throat. Too tightly. She was having trouble breathing. He was inside her but it… it felt… wrong. This wasn’t what he wanted. He had vanished, again. Not away to something more pleasant, but to one of his many, many victims. He had been so afraid to lose control, to lose his power… to be vulnerable that he had… he let go of Tav’s throat as if it burned. “I-I, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I -” Suddenly he was embraced. Tav was kissing him, long, gentle, reassuring. She was sitting on top of him, in his arms, her arms caressing his back comfortingly – and she gave a small squeeze to his member, as he was still inside of her. “Shh”, she said. “I’m okay. We’re okay.” Tav smiled at her. “Bhaalspawn, remember? I've been through worse, and I’m practically the expert on losing your mind. I pulled you out of it.”  She held his face and pulled him into another soft, loving kiss. “You’re safe with me. I will never hurt you. You didn’t hurt me.” She danced slowly back and forth on top of him and he felt close to losing his mind with how good she felt. She leaned back down onto the sofa, still coaxing him to move, to do as he pleased while rocking back and forth around his dick. “Please don’t go. Whatever you want to do, do it here with me. See me… please.” She looked desperate, almost. “Show me what you would like. What would make you stay?” He felt stupid. Just like an utter idiot – he shouldn’t have rushed this. But gods above, did he want this. And gods below, was it terrifying. He was standing at the threshold of a door he had held shut for as long as he could remember, one of the very few sanctuaries he had had in his past. But that was in the past. He was here now, with Tav, and… she was right. He knew she was. He felt it in his entire being that she was. Unsure, he looked into her eyes and saw nothing but love and the thing that had felt painful – trust. He had used and abused trust so many times, it terrified him to... trust, as he knew very well how easy it was to abuse. This was Tav though. He met her gaze, and smiled. Suddenly, it was as easy as breathing. He crouched over Tav and leaned in for a kiss. It was long, exploratory – as if he was reaffirming their feelings for one another. All he found was love. He could taste it on her tongue, feel it in the softness of her lips. He gave her a playful bite on her lip and Tav giggled. He pulled out of her and sat. “Anything I want?” He asked.Tav nodded eagerly in response. He pointed to the floor in front of him. “On. Your. Knees.” Tav got up from the sofa and obliged, settling on her knees in front of Astarion. She was practically giddy to be given commands, and Astarion found himself having power without any of the ick of using someone attached. He leaned closer to Tav, showing a toothy grin while he uttered: “I wish… to be drunk.”

Tav looked at his still very much hard cock, and smiled. So far, Astarion had always pleasured her – she had been too shy to ask, and he had never asked her to please him. But secretly, she had always wanted to taste him. She traced her hand up and down his dick. She was absolutely entranced by every little twitch she managed to elicit from him while exploring. He seemed especially sensitive at the tip, which was softer than the shaft to the touch. She leaned in and kissed it, and heard Astarion sigh in delight. She used her hand to rub his length, while using her mouth on his tip. She felt more aroused to taste herself on him; a reminder of what they were just doing, and what they might be doing again. She softly wrapped her entire mouth around his cock, feeling around with her tongue. “Oh gods, yes darling”, she heard him mutter.

Tav couldn’t remember much after that. She was so deeply focused on playing with Astarion that she swam back to a form of consciousness only when he panted out; “I’m going to come”. She took him out of her mouth, still using her hands to gently play with the now erratically bucking Astarion. “How do you want to do this?” she asked, smiling in a way that would put any devil to shame. “Drink me!” he rasped, on the verge.

She smiled and plunged again with a vigor Astarion didn’t know she had in her. He had felt the climax ebbing away when she slowed down to ask, but now it rose again with a vengeance. It was all too much, her hands her mouth her lips her tongue and how she was pulling him towards her. He came with a moan and shot inside of her. Slowly, he pulsed the last of himself inside her. He flinched, feeling overly sensitive when she gently slid her mouth off of him. While maintaining eye contact, she swallowed. Part of his seed was dripping down the corner of her mouth. Apparently his load was too much to contain. She smirked and showed him her tongue. He was impressed, amazed and so in love with her. He pulled her up from the floor into a kiss. “That” he said breathlessly, “was a lot of fun.”

“See what happens when you’re with me?”

“Alright alright. You don’t need to harp on about how infuriatingly right you were.”

“The only thing hard about it, was you.” Tav said and playfully poked his penis. Astarion laughed and held his darling. “No, truth be told, that was one of the scariest things I have done in my life, and I’ve fought a Netherbrain… but who knew facing your fears could be so utterly delicious.”

[cassidy273]

What different Ao3 tags mean

This post is for people who are starting to read fics on Ao3, or just people who don't get some of the tags.

Fluff - Basically just nice and fuzzy feels

Lemon/Lime - I don't think I see these tags too much on newer fics, but I used to see them all the time when I still used Wattpad. Lemon means that the fic contains graphic sexual stuff, and lime means that the fic contains sexual situations without being graphic.

Watersports - This is one of the freaky tags. Do NOT make the same mistake I did when I first went on Ao3, and assume that this is for fics about actual water related sports. This tag is for fics with piss kinks.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - This tag is for fics with themes that may be considered problematic/not morally okay, and it's basically a warning to readers to mind the tags. I didn't know what this meant a while ago, and I read a very graphic fic about a guy murdering his boyfriend during sex...consensually.

Angst - Just angsty/sad feels.

Whump - If I'm being honest, I didn't know what the fuck this could even mean when I first went on Ao3. It's basically just hurt/comfort, but emphasis on the hurt. I'm honestly too scared to read fics with this tag just in case I cry lol.

Crack - A fic that was written as a joke/parody that is not meant to be taken seriously. Like, you wouldn't leave genuine criticism on a smutty Shrek/Christine Daaé fanfic with the tag Crack/Crackfic.

Hurt/Comfort - The title kinda speaks for itself, but it's basically a fic where a character gets sick or feels bad emotionally, and another character comforts them.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics - This means the fic contains stuff from the omegaverse such as alphas, omegas, and betas. I remember forgetting to read the tags a while back, and when I started reading the actual fanfic, I was so confused as to why Christine was talking about Erik's pheromones and stuff like that. I'm not gonna explain too much about the omegaverse, but y'all can google that stuff yourselves if you want. There might be some sexual stuff, though.

Vore - This is basically just a fetish where someone wants to eat someone/be eaten by them.

I might make a follow-up to this but idk.

[leftoverbriocheloaf]

Fanfic Writer Interview!!

@xerx thank you so much for tagging me!! I'm honored and v excited to answer <3333

How many works do you have on AO3?

Right now I have 29 works on AO3!! That's kinda crazy to me just because I only started posting last summer and didn't think it would go anywhere,, but almost 30 and still going strong!!

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Language Barrier: I'm genuinely shocked this got so popular?? I'm happy to know that ppl love the "didn't think you could understand my language" troupe as much as I do!! It's one of my shorter ranpoe stories at 2.3k (I like to write longer fics bc I hate myself apparently) but I love it dearly <3

Interesting?: I loved writing this fic!! I am insane about them and continue to be!! It's also ranpoe (I wonder if you can guess the ships I like,,) and also my second longest fic ever at 32.6k. It's a high school au bc I love them living happy lives and being normal (ASAGIRI PLEASE) with a healthy(?) amount of rivalry on Poe's part! It's also one of the few fics where I bounce around in POV, which is something I love doing but find really hard

Good Shot: What can I say. I saw Poe w a sniper and went HOT what who said that. not me. But I also decided that he and Atsushi would make great friends (which led me to deciding they're siblings and writing a whole story about that) but I'm just a sucker for Poe adopting random members of the ADA by accident. Ranpo is just really proud of his bf. This one is also shorter at 2.8k but I got to write a really cool (totally not biased) fight scene so it's one of my favs

Feelings Are Difficult, Even For Geniuses: Guys this was one of my first fics I swear I've gotten better at naming them (I have not). 9.0k words of mostly Poe getting beaten up I have no words,, It's a bit more graphic (violent not sexy unless youre into that idk) than most of my stuff and definitely one of the more angsty ones, but it has a happy ending so dw he's fine

Henna Berries and Padisarahs: Ok this is where I shamelessly admit I'm a genshin player and while I haven't played in. forever. the sumeru quartet grabbed my heart and threw it out the window. Cyonari for the win. 5.2k and soulmates!!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I love comments SO much y'all have no idea how much they mean to me,, They've made me so much more confident in my work and eager to share my stuff and I really appreciate it!! I try and respond as fast as possible (I have responded to a comment within five minutes before and I still wonder if that commenter thinks Im a freak) but sometimes I'll hold off until I can finish the next chapter (if applicable). I also am a huge yapper (if these responses didn't make that clear) so I love talking to you guys <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Tbh I don't really write angsty endings?? I might eventually, but they make me so sad :') Which. they're supposed to. I'd have to say Feelings are Difficult, Even for Geniuses only bc the fic itself is angsty and it's implied that Poe is gonna have to work through some shit emotionally after the events of it? It might be An Author, a Raccoon, and a Reaper though.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

This is gonna be hard bc every single fic is a happy ending tbh.. Give it a Shot! is an octopath traveler ii fic that I loved writing the ending for (guys you should read fics from the octopath fandom they know whats up) but For the Hell of It might be my favorite ending that I've written!!

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written any crossovers,, Mainly bc I feel like the fandoms I like are all just too different? I haven't found any ways to mush them together but maybe I'll write one eventually!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope! Everyone's been really nice :)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sorry y'all I'm a sex-repulsed ace so it probably won't happen? I mean never say never tbf but seeing as my face literally burns when I write two characters kiss it probably won't be soon lmfao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so? I hope not?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No :( I'm hoping to get good enough at Spanish to translate my own fics though!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! But not any that I've posted,, I'm working with my irl friends on a few different fics, but they're still in progress :)

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Guys i can't choose. don't do this to me

(ranpoe, criminos, sskk, kohiiai, cyonari, xingyun, chiakana, dan heng/march/stelle (idk the name) are all favs tho)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ok one of my favorite fics that I'm writing is a fic about Higuchi getting amnesia before the events of the main series and slowly getting her memories back but finding herself outside of akutagawa its like 50 pages so far but im not even done w the guild arc.. im hoping i can finish it but we'll see!! I just think Higuchi deserves love and a MC moment <3

I also have a fic where Poe uses the book after they've lost to send himself back in time to try and fix everything! But (in my fic at least) Arahabaki is outside of the rules of the book, so Chuuya also retains his memories,, I just think they could be a very interesting duo and have a lot of potential as begrudging allies (and guys. mafia poe. guys) but it's very long and idk if I'll be able to see it through (T-T)

What are your writing strengths?

I think I write dialogue well! I have trouble working through certain characters, but I like writing two really smart people bc I have to strike a balance between having them not mention things (bc they're obvious to them) and still letting the reader know whats going on.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a lot of trouble continuing fics bc I have so many things I want to write that I usually overwhelm myself trying to string plot points together,, Scenery is also SO hard for me to write idk why (@xerx we're opposites lmao <3)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be done well, but I usually prefer to italicize and just say in the notes that a character is speaking in another language so readers can understand what they're saying. However, if you're writing a story where you don't want the reader to understand either, I think it can be really interesting!

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Honkai Star Rail,, and Dungeon Meshi (farceille my loves)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I think it's a tie between For the Hell of It and A Hop, Skip, and Jump (Back to the Castle)! I love my aus, if you couldn't tell. But royalty aus will always have a special place in my heart (and that fic is certainly not the last royalty au i'll be writing for ranpoe) <3

Tagging: @jeaninthetrees, @amythecinnabunny (if you have an ao3 and I didn't tag you you should lmk so I can :)) )

[haedia]

WIP Wednesday

On, well, *checks calendar* almost Tuesday. I was tagged by @lathbora-virann (thanks for the tag!) a little bit ago.

In my defense, I was tired and felt like garbage and then I forgot. So. Yeah.

But! I got around to it after I remembered!

I have a BUNCH of different shit in-progress. Both art and written pieces, though the art will almost certainly get done WAY before the written stuff will, for Reasons. As for tagging, as always: If you wanna participate after seeing this, feel free to interpret that as me tagging you. I would like to see what you're working on, so please tag me back if you do c:

Anyway. Here are some of the things I'm working on:

Still chugging away at the comic I'm doing of @dread-red-queen's Rook: Altara de Riva. I haven't made more progress than what she's already seen, I think (though I should be doing more tomorrow, actually, if my energy holds).

But here's the most recent panel, in-progress.

That panel should be the last of the really demanding panels. The rest are less intense perspectives and such so I should be smooth sailing after this one. XD

I'm also working on another lip piercing Illario piece. This one is still real early and I'm still working on composition, proportions, etc. So, keep that in mind. I use really scrungly lines and bright-ass colors right up until I ink. Helps keep me from getting too precious about the early draft lines and I find it's easier to tweak when it's in this state.

Anyway, look at that slut(affectionate):

He may or may not be wearing an unbuttoned, sheer shirt thing in the end, but I haven't settled on that.

I kinda want the lighting and such to be soft and glowy. Which I think contrasts nicely with how much of a jackass he can be.

As for written things. I have a bunch of fics in various stages. But energy levels kind of dampen my ability to finish them.

Anyway. This is a scene from one of them.

The context is: after defeating Governor Ivenci in a non-Blighted Treviso, the group returns to the Diamond. Viago has prepared an overkill qamek antidote, uh, sequence. It's one part ingested medicine, one part inhaled vapor, one part cleansing bath.

The team members and all Crows exposed to the vapors are shooed off to the bathing rooms of the Diamond, which is where the snippet below takes place.

Teia was right about it being unpleasant, though not as much as she’d expected. The bathing chambers of the Diamond were enveloped with a thick, medicinal steam that stung the eyes and the back of Rook’s throat. An oily, acrid smell hung in the air, belched there by incense burners positioned about the room.  The water, lapping at the edges of the stone steps leading down into one of the baths, was opaque with a turquoise shimmer. Even without the permeating heat and humidity that plastered her clothing to her skin and dampened her hair, it would be obvious that the water was near scalding by the frothing look to it. Whorls of thin green oil, speckled with what she assumed were medicinal herbs and reagents, moved along the surface of the bath in keeping with whatever force shifted the water itself.  Viago clearly wasn’t taking any chances at all with the qamek.  Rook idly wondered how long he’d had the mixtures on hand for a situation just like this. It seemed unlikely that he could have mixed them all and set them to use before they returned from their mission. But, from what she knew of him, maybe it was possible with his determination and exacting nature. She knew it was more likely that he’d had the base antidotes on-hand but had possibly expanded the volume once he caught wind of the initial plot weeks before. But it did amuse her to consider the alternatives.  Either way, she was thankful for his diligence, even if it made it hard to breathe. And, she was sure she’d be feeling tender and raw after her soak.  As if in reaction to her thoughts, the yelp of one the men reached her ears, warped and echoing through the tiled halls that connected the various sections of the bathing rooms. She wasn’t sure who had discovered just how hot the water was, or if it was even one of her teammates. It could have been one of the Crows who had come to assist near the end of the confrontation with the Governor. A sound that could have been a distant splash met her ears and another surprised cry, distorted though it was, quickly followed. “Well, clearly I’m stalling,” she said under her breath.  Letting out a reluctant sigh, she began the task of peeling layers of armor and clothing from her skin, made all the more arduous by the dampening steam. It had seeped through her top layer, darkening the cloth with moisture and weighing her down. 

There's a LOT of it (like 17+ pages of it) that's not refined to that state, otherwise I'd share more. But it'd be even more fractured from the whole than that.

And there's a bunch of different fics that are in various stages of outlining, blocking in, etc.

Some Rook x Lucanis. Some Rook x Elek. Some Rook x Illario. Most have smut somewhere in them, too. XD

I have a few other, non-Dragon Age things that I'm working on, also. These are for a Guild Wars 2 playthrough I'm going to be doing with a few friends Soon(tm). These are a couple of our charr characters as kind of like RPG icons. These will be lightly animated so we can use them on my friend's stream, too.

And this is a rough kind of character study of a friend's character. It will eventually be refined into a character sheet-type thing. But this was mostly to get the vibe and the coloration of him, mostly when he's going like ice-demon mode, that is.

That's most of what I've got on-progress at the moment that in any sort of state to share. The rest are scrungly messes or the written equivalent of a spice shaker that had its lid pop off when used.

[my-pjo-stuff]

Opinions on lukercy? *asks deviously*

I mean...idc? Like, Lukercy ain't really my cup of tea- but it's not like I hate it or something. I don't rly do PJO ships besides Thaluke- and even there I'm just as good with them being platonic. So Lukercy, like any PJO ship, is just sort of ...there, at least for me. But I genuinely love the shippers! Like even if I personally don't ship it the guys that do are some of the chillest, most respectful non-toxic fans in this fandom. Which...okay tbf the bar is in literal hell- but I do genuinely mean it! To share a little anecdote here- So when I first read the PJO books I had this series up on my main where I posted my thoughts and reactions to the chapters. This obviously attracted some older fans who talked with me and commented, all really nice and innocent stuff. Thing was, I was always very pro-Luke ever since TLT. I genuinely loved the guy- to the point where he unironically was the main draw to the books for me. In comparison, I didn't really care for Percy and CHB people, as I found them rather bland compared to the TA demigods all things considered.

Which- out of context that is nothing bad! Absolutely not- it turned into one though when someone at some point asked my thoughts on Percy/Percabeth. I replied to them with the things I said above, that I find them rather bland compared to Luke and that I don't rly care too much for them. And MAN when I tell you that reaction was WIIILLDDD. They went on like an 8 messages rant in the notify section of that post about how I "just don't get it" and "Am so unfair" and just "judge characters on the amount of trauma they have" 💀 Genuinly that is a forever PJO fandom core memory now. They even demanded me to talk about and dig into Percy like I did with Luke because they "knew that I could do it since I did it with Luke". That shit was crazy- they sounded like my teacher wanting me to write more in a poem analysis or sum T-T Fr the only reason I didn't block them then and there was bc previously they were pretty active with my posts and nice to me- had that user been a stranger they would have been blocked SO fast. After that they just interacted less and less with my stuff and I haven't spotted them in my notes since lmao. So yeah, that's my fun story of how a Percabeth Shipper/Percy fan basically demanded that I go and analyze their favs just bc I could do it, and they wanted me to. And, well- say what you want but that certainly never happened with any Lukercy shippers XD Some of my oldest PJO mutuals and friends are Lukercy shippers actually, genuinely great ppl! I think all the hate you guys get is just genuinely weird af like??? It's a fictional ship between two fictional characters, calm down man. Yes I can see how some ppl might be uncomfortable with it and would prefer to just block the tag and users who like it entirely- but it ain't that deep. Go outside. Hug your family. Get some hobbies. IDK just stop treating a fictional yaoi ship like the plague itself. At this point it just straight up borders on weird how worked up some ppl get XD I do read some fics and like some art, mostly bc, again, a good amount of nice mutuals of mine ship it and I'm just supporting their work. TL:DR : Not my cup of tea, but I love the guys who ship it and never had one single bad experience with them. As opposed to everyone else. Also ppl should stop hating on it so much and just move on if they don't like it.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Hair Trigger

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam, YJ98

Summary: A junior at Gotham University, Jason finds it difficult to conceal his worsening mental health from his family and his friend, Jon Lane Kent. Family secrets are revealed and boundaries are pushed as Jason and Laney struggle to navigate through school, their romantic feelings, and their trauma. Could the reintroduction of Laney Kent be more trouble than it's worth, or is it just what Jason needed to confront the demons of his past?

I will also do trigger warnings for chapters and if there is smut I have the chapter(s) tagged so you don't have to worry about nsfw in the fic if you're just here for the story itself.

Chapters: 5/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jonathan Lane Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Natalia Knight, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Chris Kent, Bart Allen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: JayLaney, Clois, TimKon

Additional Tags: University AU, No Powers AU, Sharing A Bed, Romance, Angst

Chapter Five: Image

Clark hesitated a while before knocking on the door. Laney answered the door and turned to go back to cooking dinner without so much as a greeting. "Where's your roommate?" Clark asked as he shut and locked the door behind him.

"She's out of town for the weekend. Where's your stuff?" Laney asked as he washed his hands and checked on the food in the oven.

"It's in the car. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with me staying this weekend?" Clark asked. Laney nodded. "I'm gonna go get my things then, and I'll be right back..."

"Okay... Dad, do you want onion on your burger or no?" Laney asked.

"Onion is fine, thank you," Clark replied as he walked out the door and went back downstairs. He carried his clothes for the weekend in a duffle bag and his air mattress under his arm.

This time, Clark took the elevator instead of the stairs. He opened the door with one hand, and Laney came back over to take the air mattress and set it aside. "How do you like your classes? I remember you said you changed your major," Clark asked.

"I like it... I'm a music therapy major now, by the way," Laney answered as he took the food out of the oven and made Clark's plate. "What're you working on? Anything I should know about?" Laney asked. Clark placed his phone on the counter.

"I interviewed an influencer in Bludhaven," Clark replied, "And we talked about the future of marketing, which used to be your major."

"Yeah? Send me the link when you post it... It sounds interesting," Laney whispered as he poured Clark a glass of milk and poured himself a drink. "Here you go, Dad."

"Thank you," Clark smiled as he bit into his burger. Laney started to eat and took a sip of gin. "You drink?"

"Mhm, not on school nights, though..." Laney replied after taking another sip. "Also, I figured that we would eat before talking about anything serious."

Clark took a sip of his milk. "Oh, no, I wasn't judging you. I was just making an observation," Clark replied, "What's your roommate like?"

"She's a sweet kid. She's a freshman, never lived away from home before, theatre major, and she's a genuinely kind person to be around. It's like having a cool little sister around," Laney answered as he went back to eating, "And don't worry, I'm being nice to her. How're the boys?"

"They're doing good... Chris tries not to show it, but he misses you a lot," Clark confessed, "He won't let anyone move anything on your side of the room."

"I'll talk to him soon," Laney whispered, "I miss him too." They continued to eat in silence for a while, and Laney finished his drink.

"Laney, I can't do this... I just wanna know what happened? I wanna fix things—."

Laney got up and poured himself another glass. "Can I ask you a question first? When you sent me away, why couldn't you just say you loved me back?" Laney asked. He leaned in, tapping his nails on the counter. He took a swig of his second drink.

"Because if I said it, I never would've been able to send you away. All I wanted to do was take it back," Clark whispered, "Lane... What happened?"

"I had no one to hold onto, Dad," Laney started to cry, "And the boys there... They weren't kind to my weakness. I wasn't even there a whole week before they started in on me... And yeah, I probably had it coming to me after all the mean things I'd done in my life, but this was so different." Clark reached for Laney's hand, and Laney recoiled violently. Laney poured a little more gin into his glass. "And my counselor... He was the only one at that school who I could talk to. So, I did, almost every day of those two years... And that's why you couldn't find me on the last day of school..."

"I don't understand," Clark murmured. Laney shook his head.

"No, no... You don't get why that day was so bad for me. I let him take me off-campus. He said he wanted to take me to live with him, and I wanted to go.

We got about an hour away from the school, and we passed by this field, and as much as I wanted to leave with him, I started crying... I told him that I was sorry. He took me back to a restaurant right outside the school and told me to go inside and call the school, and when I got out of the car, he drove off, and I never saw him again," Laney explained as he finished his drink and Clark grabbed the bottle before Laney could pour himself another glass.

"Laney, look at me," Clark pleaded with him, "Laney—."

"It's okay if you hate me for trying to replace you. I want you to be mad at me for it—."

"Why would—?"

"I didn't know what else to do! I lost my best friend, I lost you, and all I wanted was someone to say it back," Laney's voice broke, "I just wanted somebody to care."

He jumped as soon as he felt himself being grabbed and embraced, and Laney couldn't move until he heard his father's voice whispering, "I care... I love you, Laney. I love you, and I'm sorry." Laney wrapped his arms around his father, and as soon as Laney regained his composure, he let go.

"I thought I wanted to be mad..." Laney stepped away from the counter and sat on the couch. He let out a few shaky breaths.

"Can I put the gin away now?" Clark asked innocently, and Laney let out a shaky laugh and nodded.

"You can put it back... So, you're not mad at me? You're not gonna say what I did was crazy and irresponsible and that I could've gotten killed?" Laney asked. Clark pushed up his glasses.

"Laney, I'm just happy that we got you back... Do you remember what you were like when we went to that restaurant to come and pick you up?" Clark asked. Laney shook his head. "You looked like you hadn't slept in days. You were shaky, out of it... You kept telling us you'd give anything just to go home and go to bed. You wouldn't say anything else. You slept on the couch in the living room for weeks."

"It took everything in me not to punch Conner in the face for saying I was scared to sleep in my own bed," Laney chuckled.

"I'm glad that you didn't do that," Clark smiled, and he got up to wash his hands, "You're so much like your mother."

"Stubborn?" Laney asked.

"Driven," Clark replied. Laney went to wash his hands in the bathroom, and he dried his hands on the towel.

Laney turned on the tv, and Clark washed the dishes. "Dad, you don't have to—."

"But I'd like to just this once," Clark interrupted. Laney nodded. Clark's phone rang. "That's your mom."

Laney put the phone on speaker. "Hi, Mom..." Laney answered.

"I just wanted to call to see if your father got in alright... And the boys wanted to say goodnight," Lois whispered.

"Hi, Sammy! Hi, Chris!" Laney exclaimed. The boys both spoke at once in a jumble of words that Laney couldn't quite make out.

"You're not mad?" Sammy asked.

"No, I'm not mad. How was your field trip?" Laney asked.

"It was good. We went to the exploratorium," Sammy answered, and he went on to tell Laney about what he did there.

Then Chris mentioned something about missing Laney, and Laney smiled to himself. "I miss you too," Laney whispered.

"We're making pizza for dinner. Did you eat already?" Lois asked.

"Mhm, Laney made burgers," Clark answered, "Oh, and boys make sure to start your homework and chores before Sunday." Chris and Sammy groaned. Clark dried the dishes and put them away in the cupboards.

"Loving the enthusiasm," Lois joked, and she sent the boys back to the kitchen before she asked if things were going alright.

"We're okay," Laney whispered. Lois made a humming noise.

"Good. I love both of you," Lois whispered.

"Love you too, Mom," Laney replied.

"I love you, Lois," Clark replied, and they hung up. Gus came out of Laney's bedroom and stood by Laney's feet.

"Oh, hello, handsome. Dad, this is Gus Gus. Gus Gus, this is Dad," Laney introduced them. Clark followed Laney and Gus to the couch. Laney rested his legs on Clark's lap as he watched tv.

"You still watch The Wonder Years?" Clark asked, and Laney nodded.

"It's kind of what I imagine you were like as a kid," Laney replied.

"Huh," Clark nodded, "That's fair."

They didn't say much as they continued watching tv, and Clark looked over to say something at Laney, and Laney lay fast asleep with his mouth open. "Laney? Lane, wake up." Laney started to snore. He moved Laney's legs and picked up Gus, and moved him to the side. "Laney?" Clark asked a little bit louder, and still, Laney didn't stir. So, Clark picked him up and carried him to bed while his mattress blew up in the living room. He pulled the blankets over Laney and was startled by Laney grabbing his face, still half asleep and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You're going already?" Laney whimpered. Clark chuckled, realizing that Laney was a little bit drunk, and he let out a breath. "Don't go. Not yet," Laney wiped a few tears away with his sleeve. "I don't wanna stay here by myself," Laney mumbled as he cried.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm just getting ready to go to bed. I'll be here when you get up," Clark reassured him, "I promised I'd be here the whole weekend, remember?"

Laney turned over on his side, and with his eyes still closed, Laney uttered, "I remember... But I wish you could stay longer," in a half-broken whisper. Clark smiled and pushed Laney's hair back.

"Goodnight, Laney," Clark whispered, and he closed Laney's door on his way out. He unpacked his duffle bag and grabbed took some of his things to the bathroom.

After he took his shower, he looked around for where Laney kept his extra blankets. He found a comforter in a bin in the coat closet and placed it on the mattress. He left the tv on for a little while before taking his glasses off and going to bed.

Clark woke up a few hours around two in the morning to a loud thud. "Fuck," Laney winced, and he opened the door and stumbled to the bathroom in the dark. He came out of the bathroom a minute later, and he stopped in his tracks. "Hiya, Dad," he greeted him casually before going back to bed. Clark turned over on his back and chuckled to himself.

The rest of the night was calm, even for Laney, who couldn't recall the last time he slept so peacefully. He didn't awaken again until eight that morning to the smell of breakfast. He stepped out of his room, and Clark greeted him. "Good morning, how're you feeling?" Clark asked.

"I don't remember going to bed," Laney yawned.

"I carried you to bed," Clark answered as he flipped their pancakes.

"Well, that's embarrassing..." Laney went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and he came back just as Clark finished making his plate.

"Did you mean what you said about wishing I could stay longer?" Clark asked.

Laney dug into his breakfast and shrugged, "I kind of remember that... Hey, Dad? I really am glad that you came this weekend. I know I wanted to leave things alone, but it means a lot to me that you cared enough to come and spend the weekend with me." Clark took a sip of orange juice.

"It's because I love you. I really do, Laney," Clark answered.

"I love you too, Dad," Laney whispered as he picked over his apples.

Clark reached across the counter and nudged his hand. "Eat your apples," Clark instructed gently. Laney laughed.

"Can I have another sausage?" Laney asked.

"Finish some of your apples, and we'll talk," Clark replied.

Laney ate his pancakes with the apples. "Are you gonna tell Mom about the stuff I said?" he asked, his mouth half full.

"Do you want me to?" Clark asked. "She doesn't tell me about what you two talk about in therapy." Laney furrowed his brows. "You didn't know that?"

"I dunno. I figured Mom told you everything. I don't expect either of you to keep secrets from each other on my behalf... I don't talk about you there. I mostly just talk about my nightmares and the fact that I try to bury my feelings out of fear," Laney admitted, "And you can tell Mom what I said. I'll probably bring it up in therapy anyway."

Clark pushed his glasses up and finished his breakfast. "You have nightmares still?" Clark asked.

"Mhm, it's nothing that I can really put into words. I just know that some of them are caused by sleep apnea... And before you say it, Mom is already trying to force me to get a CPAP machine. It's not that bad—."

"Laney, I just heard you say you don't really need to breathe while you sleep—."

"Oh, Dad, come on. You know that's not what I said," Laney replied as he went back to eating. Clark took a deep breath.

"Sorry, but I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were doing something about that," Clark replied. Laney put his fork down and started eating his apples with his fingers. "Laney, are you telling me that you go to therapy for sleep apnea?"

"Of course not! I go to therapy because I compartmentalize," Laney snapped, "I started feeling like I had to be completely different people at school, at home, at work, just to survive. I can't date, I can't ask for help outside of therapy... I feel like I'm just waiting until the next party so that I can self-destruct... And I called Mom, telling her that I wanted to die on New Year's Eve last year, and she picked me up from the pier." Laney swallowed hard. Clark put his fork down.

"Jonathan... I didn't know—."

"Yeah, well, I'm working through it... It's not as bad as it was before, but I still struggle," Laney whispered, "I thought you knew that much, at least."

"I didn't know any of it. Laney, if you think that I don't think your feelings are important—."

"That's not the problem. It's the fact that I remember how it felt to be able to tell you this stuff, and now I feel like I want to tell you when I don't feel good," Laney coughed into his elbow, "But I feel like I don't deserve it anymore."

"Don't deserve what?" Clark asked.

"I don't deserve to talk to you about things," Laney replied, "And I know Mom tries, but she and I are so much alike that I feel like talking to her is the same as talking to myself."

"Laney, I love talking to you kids. I like knowing what's going on. Even in Conner's life, and let me tell you, sometimes I wish there were things that he would keep to himself," Clark joked, and Laney let out a little laugh. "And I'd pick arguing with you over whatever we've been doing for the past couple of years. I missed being able to go beyond just small talk with you.

I like knowing that you hate the space that's grown between us just as much as I do... And if you want me to do all the work and ask all the questions, I'll do that. Okay?" Laney forced his tears back and nodded, and Clark got up and embraced him just as he did the night before. Laney shut his eyes and let out a sigh as he let his father hold him.

[celinou]

Thanks @lenorelovesmax for tagging me 🤍

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2, currently. Well, more like one and a half baked scene that has no context, to be more accurate.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 194.036 words.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I have like the one fic, the other thing has 2 kudos. So... - A Walk in Chiaroscuro (354)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, absolutely. It's pretty rare when I don't. I like to tell people that I appreciate their support and comments or to answer questions they might have about the story or the choice I made.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't do angsty endings. I'm too old and too jaded by life to appreciate them anymore. I'm at a point in my life where I need to know there's hope and happiness at the end of the line.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm guessing there will be some kind of repetition since I've only published Awic... Soooo, it's a Walk in Chiaroscuro! ...but if you want to know about the ones that I keep in my drawer never to see the light of AO3, the happiest ending goes to Let's Write a Love Story (it's a Homestuck fanfic)

8. Do you get hate on fics? No. I'm writing in a mostly dead fandom so far and for kind of a rare pair so, people have been starved of content. They were so nice and sweet to me in the comments.

9. Do you write smut? I wish! I don't have the chops for it but I so wish I could write good smut! Honestly it's something I really want to push myself into exploring. Unfortunately your girl is a bit too vanilla in her taste which makes for poor reading. I don't fear being bad... I fear being boring, you know?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? I've never done that, no. But who knows what future will lead me to write.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No. I don't have enough reach to be the target of theft.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. And tbh I don't have the patience to translate it myself in my native language.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Could have... but no. There was an attempt at a joined project for Dragon Age but, unfortunately, it didn't work out in the end. I'm not abandoning the idea of writing for Dragon Age but I'll probably go in a very different direction since it would be a solo project.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? I... don't have one... Yeah, I'm not much of a shipper at the core. I mean I did write for Caulscott but I practically ship Max with everybody in LIS so... I was more interested by Nathan's potential as a love interest more than the ship itself. Outside of LIS... I can't think of any ship rn, I'm afraid.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Tough question. If I abandoned a project I don't consider it a WIP. It's a dropped thing that goes in the reusable idea bin... and if I'm still working on it, I don't go into thinking I won't finish it. So, it's hard to say really. To not leave you with such a vague answer, I'll give you this: the fic I planned to write about the Hidden Object Games series Dark Parable, that never took off and never will (for I have better/much more attractive projects to work on). It's a dropped thing. But now you can see I have weird and obscure taste.

As for original projects: I have a Horror RPG project that probably won't ever see the light of day, called: The Clockmaker. (because I realized I'm shit at pixel art, tragic)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Hum... No. I don't mind people doing it but I tried it myself in my pirate epic and, let me tell you, I'm not that good a multilingual as to be witty in more than 2 languages. I found what I wrote cringe af when I read back my text in the editing phase and scrapped it all out.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Homestuck. I started writing fics very late in my life. (I wrote original stuff before that)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? A Walk in Chiaroscuro. Because it's the only fic I went into unafraid to write what I wanted without thinking about who might read it. And to this day it's the truer work I've put out. Not the most personal by any stretch but the one I indulged in the most. And I'm so proud of it. Flaws and all.

I tag @sourrind and @momochizoey if you feel like doing it. And everybody who'd want to as well, consider yourself tagged, friend!

[eemamminy-art]

1, 2, 4, 6, 8, and 9 for the fic writer asks!

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

At this point, I think I prefer multi-chapter! In oneshots it's like, 2k - 5k words or so, and that's it so you gotta make it count. I found I would be agonizing over word choice and flow and how technically good the writing itself was more than just trying to tell a compelling story. In a multi-chapter fic, it's far too long to worry about every little paragraph or sentence, so I can see the big picture and focus on other things :3 Not to say I don't care about phrasing in multi-chapter too, but I think I'm more likely to seek out repeated themes and motifs than just seeking to make punchy lines. Like for example, in my stardew long fic, I have a repeated mention of movie cliches and tropes when Alex is agonizing over how to express his feelings, to show that he isn't personally all that experienced in relationships and looks to outside sources to model the behavior. And also to tie it off nicely with a particular scene that's related to that same theme (yet to be posted, I don't wanna spoil it! You'll see very soon, like in a few weeks from now)

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

For oneshots, I write as I go. In my multi-chapter fic, I have an outline of the entire story-- all 68 chapters of it!! My friend who is an excellent writer and I hold in really high regard with this stuff showed me how he does his outlines which is as an excel spreadsheet?? 👀 Totally rocked my world, so I've been able to easily visualize and plan out everything I want to put into my story! And I can also include data like word count or planned posting schedule dates, and I have separate tabs in the spreadsheet to keep track of things like ages and birthdays too!

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

I get a lot of my ideas when I'm waking up/falling asleep or doing something that doesn't require much thought. Some aspects of drawing don't really take up brain space for me so at times I'll be rendering or something and an idea just hits me out of nowhere! But it's usually when I'm waking up or half asleep still that I get the most of my ideas!

6. Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

I don't, mostly because I'm a perfectionist but also because a lot of good stuff happens when I'm editing. Often times I will add literally hundreds of extra words even on a third or fourth pass of editing, and I just feel like it wouldn't work out as nicely if it was a beta reading it over and maybe giving me feedback.

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Middle! I'm honestly so bad with endings. I have a ton of oneshots sitting half-finished in my google drive that are just like. Total banger ideas that maybe even I worked out a beginning for, but I have NO clue how to wrap it up. I think this is obvious in how I open and close chapters in my long fic too, there's a lot of cold opens and then ending on like, idk, some dialog or something haha

As it is I've been already working on the ending to my long fic, because I know it's gonna take a lot of work to iron it out to be just what I envision it to be, so the finale is on I think the third draft currently and still a long way off from being done. But I'm being prepared so I don't hit a snag in a few months down the line when I get to it!!

9. Do you comment on stories you read?

Always!! I read very infrequently because I have difficulty reading, so whenever I do read something, I always make sure to leave a comment! I like to compliment and encourage others! I try to always leave a nice comment in the tags when reblogging art as well, it just feels good to me :3

Get to know your fic writer! Ask meme

[spurious]

🍓, 🌻, 🍄, 🍬, ❄️, 🌿, 🐝, and 🧩, please?

fic writer truth or dare asks

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? uhhhhhhhhh I was like 13 or something and I found out what fanfiction was and started writing it immediately? thankfully that stuff is lost to time lmao. 🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis SO MANY PEOPLE. i'm shy and also unfriendly lmao 🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings John unironically uses "buddy" as a term of endearment. 🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i'm so bad at coming up with answers for things like this! in part because i think i have cultivated a fandom experience where most of my strongest opinions are generally shared or mutually respected? unpopular in japanese kanjani fandom opinion: yokoyama yuu is a bottom, fight me ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? i feel like my dream theme is to be surprised? i want to read something i never would've thought of! but also, the first thing that came to my mind is that i would love to read a take on a full canon timeline mcshep retelling by @alienfuckeronmain, with all the slow burn and angst that would entail 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity sometimes it's gonna happen. try not to beat yourself up about it. it'll probably come back when you least expect it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them @audioletter my wife, the light of my life, the person who makes me believe i can be more and better 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? oooh man this really depends on my mood actually, and also what the fic is offering to me. I will read some pretty dogshit writing if the story itself hits some of my particular kinks because I can just make it better in my head. Big general fic turn-offs are sloppy POVs, hair-based epithets, really rampant spelling/grammar problems?

[ckret2]

saw your recent reblog about feedback and, though I’ve been occasionally gushing in tags, you deserve to hear what I tell my friends! In general, your writing style is perfect at capturing the timing and delivery of the show itself. I’ve never read a fic i’ve been able to visualize more clearly than this one. You write each character so well that between chapters it feels like i’m right back where i used to be, waiting for new episodes again. I do think you haven’t *quite* solved your side-character-ification (applejackification?) of Dipper problem yet, but other than that you’re doing an astounding job at balancing all the characters and their interactions with each other and with bill in a way that feels natural (plus with these more recent chapters i’m seeing lots of good dipper stuff so you’re definitely getting there with him too! besides, it is nice to see Mabel get the spotlight after all these years anyway. healing, even.) You know exactly how to control an audience’s emotions, you know when to drag something out and when to shut it down, you know when to cut off a conversation and when bring up the fact it was cut off later. Little foreshadowings like the loose tooth are well-planted and plot beats like lucid dreaming are dropped and picked back up delicately and with precision, like pressing piano keys. i don’t doubt for a second it’s all a part of some grand instrument, though i wouldn’t be surprised if you told me most of it was improvised - another way you’re just like the show was. you’ve done the episodic-and-serialized thing better than at least half of all silver-age cartoons that have attempted to do so! I adore the way you show kindness to all characters in your scenes, from gideon’s characterless mother to the little freak himself. It truly feels as though you pick no favorites, and that’s something you do better than the show did tbh. Not that TBOB needed to hook me in with a marketing campaign, but hypothetically, in a universe where I didn’t own a hand-sewn bill cipher throw-pillow and yet somehow still found this fic, I would definitely be excited for it after reading! you’re gifted, and i hope this does numbers on AO3. I truly cannot stand hazbin hotel, but I may go back and read your other works once this one’s over, just to hear your narrative voice. it’s a voice worth hearing, and may it be forever amplified.

oh WOW thank you so much??? 😭 this is SUCH a sweet comment and it means so much to me that you took the time to write all this!!

APPLEJACKIFICATION... that made me laugh. Dipper will get some serious development before the end of the eclipse plot and he's key in the next plot, so I think that'll help him make some progress. But yeah—he's not gonna be as important as Mabel, but I do want to make sure he has a plot that stands on its own, smaller though it may be.

It's 2/3 planned, 1/3 improvised. 😁 I've got a lead time of about 15 chapters between what I've posted and what I've written, so I can do stuff like write the poppet chapter, write the tooth fairy arc, edit the poppet chapter, realize that as long as I'm giving him a bloody lip maybe I can loosen his tooth, edit the tooth fairy arc, have him mention that that tooth was loose. And many chapters I haven't written or outlined yet I have loosely planned in my head so I know how to aim toward them.

Wanting to show kindness to all the characters and wanting to give as many of them an internal life as possible is so important to me, and I'm so glad that's showing through so far!

And honestly I think "I hate [xyz] but I'll read it if you're writing it" is the highest compliment. 😂 All my hazbin fics were written pre-season 1 when all we had was the pilot, a couple comics, creator comments, and some Helluva to go by; but idk maybe you'd consider that a plus lol. (If you're interested, on ao3 I've also written Transformers, Godzilla, some Pokémon, and a smattering of other things.)

Thanks again for sending such a nice message!