#like.... ugh do i dare share this? ....it's in the tags and no one reads those so i'm sure this is a safe place for confession... sksks

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I am a new reader of your blog, and that is something I want to know (but it's totally okay if you want to ignore this ask!) why you stopped liking [with you]? Is there something in particular that bothered you about this fic?

That... is a question with a loaded answer.

The quick answer is:

I put way too much pressure on myself with [with you] that caused terrible burnout and I couldn't do any creative writing for a long time after; a small portion of my readers were pretty hostile about slow updates; there were criticisms about the story that I had a hard time with; and there are a lot of story beats and writing decisions I made with it that I'm very critical of. All of those things combined, I now have a lot of negative feelings associated with [with you].

The not-so-quick answer involves a lot of self-criticism about my prose, poor choices, the criticisms by my readers, and some behind the scenes stuff. I'll put all that under a "keep reading" for anyone interested in more detail.

When I started [with you], it wasn't meant to be a 50k+ story, it was just going to be a simpler story told in a couple parts... that I then kept expanding. I'm pretty sure every note I have on the original version posted on here starts with, "hey y'all, this story is this many parts now whoops haha"

I had very little planned out, I was just discovery writing my way through everything. I wrote a chapter, read through it a couple times, said, "yeah that's good enough," then posted. Y'know, like what a lot of people who write fics do. "no beta, we die like Ben falling down the bell tower" and all that.

I had ideas of where I wanted to go, but I didn't start an outline until I was well into the story. It was bloated. I felt like I needed to add every single idea I had, and needed to expand on every character, even if it didn't do anything to advance or enhance the story... and that became overwhelming for me to keep track of since I wanted it to all tie together in the end and please my readers.

When I read through it now, there is so much that can be cut that no one would miss. It would flow better and be easier to read.

My prose [the actual writing style] is all over the place and reads like a first draft, especially in earlier chapters. Spelling errors, run-on sentences, whole paragraphs that I should've cut. While I feel better about my dialogue, there are some conversations that read as awkward.

Honestly, the best part of the entire fic is Clementine and Louis' story, which... yeah. I'm pretty happy with the way I portrayed their dynamic, dialogue, and romance. I just wish I hadn't bogged it all down with everything else, like... that's all it needed to be, it just needed to be about clouis.

Oh, and I still like the dream sequence. That's probably one of the better chapters, if not the best chapter.

Now, when I say I made bad choices with this story, one of those choices I'm referring to is my "big rewrite." This was incredibly stupid. Past CJ thought it was a good idea but she's a dumb ass. You can't listen to anything she says.

Basically, I got the brilliant idea that I would take [with you] down and rewrite the whole thing before I wrote the final chapters. I wasn't satisfied with how it was written. I felt I could do so much better. I was going to trim unnecessary fat, expand on important details, make some heavy changes, improve everything, and then repost it with the ending.... so I deleted it off AO3 and got to work.

Terrible idea. Don't ask me why. What I should've done was discontinued that version, made a note that it was old, and then published the new version separately. But I didn't. And a lot of people were pissed at me. Shocking.

I should've just finished it. I should've finished it, posted it, and then went from there. But I didn't. Ever since then I've gotten a lot of readers who would go on anon and send me messages about [with you] that are passive aggressive or guilt trippy. That soured my feelings about the story and myself as a writer tremendously.

Then there's Violet.

I wrote the first few chapters before Ep4 of TFS was released, meaning I wrote Violet before we found out that she's blinded in the explosion in her kidnapped route. I took the "Violet despises you" route, and a big plot point of the story is Violet dealing with all these conflicting feelings about Clementine, hating her but also not, distancing herself from the group, the strain it put on her and Louis' friendship, etc.

I don't like how I portrayed Violet for a number of reasons. I know what I was trying to do, and I knew I couldn't [or wouldn't] scrap everything I already wrote about her and rewrite in a blind Violet on friendly terms with Clementine... because sure, I wanted to do this grand rewrite that sounded easy enough on paper, but in practice that was so much work that intimidated me.

Because behind the scenes fun- for the rewrite, I wanted to do that. That was a major change that would've cut so much from the story I wasn't happy with, and would've been a more positive portrayal of the character. But then I saw just how much would be cut and how much I'd have to write and it scared me off from the idea... so I tried to work with what I had and I still hate it.

Violet's very antagonistic in the story. She attacked Clementine after the boat explosion. Everyone thinks she'll attack her again. Mitch calls her a traitorous bitch and doesn't trust her to not stab Clementine in a conversation. There's even a point where it's mentioned that in the past she slapped Louis during a conversation. She just has a pissy attitude throughout the story but then berates herself for it and I just... I was going for a slow burn recovery that explores her trauma and ends with her reconciling with Clementine... but it doesn't come off that way? Some parts I think I executed better than others but most of it I look back at and say, "...No, past CJ, that doesn't read like you think it does...."

But that wasn't my only criticism I got about the way I wrote Violet, and this one is... a little complicated? And something most probably wouldn't take issue with or even notice unless you're a major Violet stan... but I pretty much gave Mitch [a character I loved at the time] a lot of Violet's canon character points and explored them more positively, then turned around and made Violet more antagonistic, which......yeeeeeah.

The only defense I have for this is it wasn't intentional. It really wasn't, but I understand and think it's a valid complaint. Like... I used to get these anons who would tell me this and I'd quietly delete them because, "...nope, not touching that. If I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist."

Lemme explain: In my fics, Mitch is gay. He had feelings for his best friend and roommate, Justin, before he died to walkers, and Mitch hasn't trusted "gross feelings" ever since... until James shows up and Mitch has to face the fact that he has romantic feelings for him while not being completely over Justin...

...y'know, totally different from Violet who is gay, had feelings for Minerva before she "died," and hasn't trusted mushy feelings ever since... until Clementine shows up and Violet has to face the fact that she has romantic feelings for her while not being completely over Minerva....

It's surface level stuff since they are written differently, and it's not like you're not allowed to have more than one character with character beats like that, but it's enough of a similarity that I get why it would rub Violet lovers the wrong way. Especially since nothing about that is canon with Mitch's character, y'know? It's the character I gave him.

I don't think it was coming from the Violet crowd [the aggressively obnoxious fans no one likes], I think it came from people who were genuinely bummed or put off by my more antagonistic portrayal of her, only to see similar traits portrayed positively with Mitch.

And that bothers me. I do like the way I wrote Mitch, but I hate the way I wrote Violet. It's made me step back and analyze why I wrote them the way I did, y'know?

But the BIGGEST criticism from readers I've gotten?

[with you] is unfinished.... valid, but there isn't anything I can add that. Sorry y'all, it's discontinued, I'm never going to finish it.

The best I can give you is what I planned: a big wedding scene where Clementine and Louis exchanged vows and kissed. Violet showed up and made amends with Clementine. Clementine talked Mitch into dancing with her even though he hates dancing. Aasim tried to ask Ruby to dance, panicked, and asked Mitch instead who was like "...Fuck no, RUBY COME DANCE WITH AASIM!" Louis and Clementine left early to head back to their room and it probably would've ended with some sappy line about being together to the end.

So... there ya go? It's not a final chapter but that's the gist of what would've happened.

But moving on, I was also going through a lot of things in my personal life that I won't get into. I was working on other writing projects that I had more interest in, so [with you] was put on the backburner. Then, over time I grew more sour about it the more pressure and guilt I put on myself, added with the pressure and guilt put on by my readers.

I do want to clarify that it's not like ALL of my readers were like this. Most of them were sweet, supportive followers who only had nice things to say. But you know how it is... you could get ten comments/asks, nine of them positive and one negative, and it's the negative one that's going to stick to you.

So, to my lovely readers, I am sorry that I let you down by not finishing it. To the rude readers, I'm less sorry because y'all were dicks.

Y'know... I can look at all of my other works and either be like "Yeah, I'm really proud of that story," or "Eh, it was one of my earlier works, so I can't be too hard on it."

But [with you] puts me in a crisis of "oh god I'm a fraud, I was never a good writer, what am I doing??? why?? why are you like this??"

and I have to snap myself out of it. That's why I'm so like this about it now.

There are other little things I could go into, but this answer is long enough. I figure if anyone has any further questions or criticisms, they'll send 'em in and I can answer them that way.

I've moved on from all my twdg writing, I'm writing dragon age stuff now, and it's finally working for me so it's not like [with you] has me all hung up still. Plus, I think it's good to go back and learn from mistakes made in old works, y'know?

[tame-the-lion-writes]

anything but worthy [pt.2]

This is reposted from my ao3!

[SFW Arthur Morgan] tags: omegaverse

Ever since you were a teenager, you've loved romance books. First you pretended to hate them, and still occasionally do, but for all the tropes that you’ve scorned, there’s something inherently addicting about them, too.

You shared this little obsession with Mary-Beth, and as such, occasionally shared each other’s novels. She was an aspiring writer, you knew, and as an avid consumer, she’d appreciate your tips and critiques. But if there was one thing you couldn’t share, it was how much more you fantasized compared to her.

Pride and Prejudice was lovely, really – a testament to the change people will go through because they love someone. Romeo and Juliet was more of a tragedy, and while you understood the political metaphor, as a story, it felt a little too juvenile. There were the non-romances, too – Robinson Crusoe, Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. Hell, you’d even read Charles C. Chestnutt, since you were so invested in the politics of the time. Equality for everyone, past the bare minimums of the Civil War! 

But, on some level, you didn’t want the sensical. You didn’t want things that made sense – you craved suspension of disbelief. You craved something more primal, something that could be set aside from the sociopolitics of everyday life – something private, and personal, and perhaps a little… perverted.

Ugh. Putting it like that made you sound like you needed church.

(And perhaps you did.)

– but that wasn’t the point!

The point was – that for the past year, you’d been miraculously saved by a big strong mountain man, and now, in a time when women only had the options of marriage, elementary schooling, or prostitution, you had been swept into the wild drama of a gang of outlaws. This in itself was perfect romance material!-- if not perfect – ugh – Victorian erotica material.

(Because yes, those existed – though you certainly wanted something better than a couple dozen pages written from the perspective of a fucking flea.)

Now Arthur Morgan, in particular, was perfect romance material. You and Mary-Beth – and even Tilly – yes, Tilly! – had agreed as such. John was taken, Sean and Bill both idiots – though Karen would probably settle for the former. Javier was a romantic with a lovely voice, but you didn’t know him all too well, and Charles was almost too quiet. (Again, almost – he was handsome and kind and patient.) Dutch was taken, Hosea was more of a father, but Arthur – Arthur – he was a perfect mix of rough and sentimental. A perfect mix of rugged and gentle.

Though you might have underestimated just exactly how rough he could be.

Not to mention that he was an alpha – the greatest one in the pack, even above Dutch, you’d decided.

Admittedly, you didn’t notice at first – notice how often he looked at you, at least. You noticed his strength right away of course, and how much of a leader he could be when necessary, but it took Mary-Beth and Tilly and Karen – all of them – to make you realize he had taken a liking to you.

“God, you’re oblivious as hell, ain’tcha?” Karen had said one evening, throwing her hands up in the air. “The man’s been eyeing you like a piece of meat!”

“Now, I wouldn’t say a piece of meat–” Mary-Beth countered with a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. “More like a… a male lead!”

“A male– a fuckin’ what now?”

Tilly giggled in the background, covering her smile with her hand. “You know, Karen, like the main love interests in Mary-Beth’s books.”

The blonde made a face, scrunching up her nose. “You know I don’t read that shit. Too sappy for me.”

“It’s not… ‘shit,’” you defended with a smile, albeit an understanding one, but seeing Mary-Beth pout, you had to say something. “They’re pretty good in my opinion.”

“Oh, don’t you dare change topics with me, girly,” Karen scolded, rolling her eyes. “Either way, you know what we mean!”

 Actually, you didn’t – not until then. It was hard to believe a man like that could like you. But ever since that conversation, you found yourself looking over your shoulder more, darting your eyes in Arthur’s direction to try and catch him in the act. For the longest time, however, he seemed normal – busy with something else, not even close to facing you. You had nearly given up when, one night, when the gang was celebrating a successful job with drinks, that you looked up to see blue eyes staring you down, laced with a certain expression halfway between affection and lust.

That day, you looked away, red face hidden in the darkness. But from then on, with his whatever toward you confirmed, a returned interest had started to grow. And boy, did you try to hook him.

It started with simpler gestures, really – an odd form of courtship since you were shy and he just felt so big compared to life. You’d do all his laundry, hand him coffee or stew, or leave him a newly repaired shirt on the table by his bedside. One time, you even managed to scourge together enough money to buy him a new ink pen. Your excuse?-- that if he kept writing in his journal with pencil, the graphite would rub the letters clean off one day. And you knew how much his writing and drawing meant to him, even if he denied any form of intelligence.

But it took another few months before you’d finally gathered the courage. The courage to ask him to stay with you, through the heat – during your heat. But–

“I am anythin’ but worthy of that honor, little girl.”

The response made your heart sink, and for a moment, you thought that was that.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky. “I just thought it would be nice – me and you.”

You felt like a little girl, trembling quietly in the night.  All that staring and time wasted – but it was just staring, not him actually planning to act on you. Well, now you just felt a little silly, too. Silly little omega. What kind of omega chases an alpha – not the other way around?

“I guess I’ll just ask Sadie or Miss Grimshaw to go with me again. Or maybe Karen, ‘cause she can handle a gun, too.”

But before you can disappear into the darkness, escape the vicinity and curl up – cry yourself to sleep – he speaks up again, explaining himself.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, omega. I don’t wanna hurt you. That’s all.”

“Oh, Arthur. I’d be okay if it were you.”

Something shifted that evening. And you parted ways with a better understanding.

The following day, the girls helped you pack – Miss Grimshaw being helpful in particular. She’d made sure some herbs for soothing tea was going with you, and had the others wrap up enough blankets for comfort. There was a tower, the older woman explained, back up north in the Grizzlies – nice and cool to keep your fever from being unbearable, yet not quite buried in layers of snow. Compared to the humid mists of Lemoyne, it sounded like sheer paradise. Arthur himself had scouted it out while on one of his trips, and after tidying up the place a bit, deemed it a safehouse for omegas like you, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. (And Kieren, too, but the boy didn’t like to admit it.) 

But when you expected Miss Grimshaw herself to hop onto the wagon with you, instead of a woman with makeup too gaudy for her features, you heard a rough groan as a man clad in brown leather pulled himself up to sit at your side.

“Er, Arthur, this is my wagon,” you said, dumbfounded, brain not quite working.

“Yup, I know.”

He cracked the reins, getting the horses to start their little trotting.

“It’s– it’s my wagon. I’m not going to town, you– you know that, right?”

“Yup. I know.”

You stare a few more seconds, stare hard, then sink into your seat, facing forward.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

You hear faint laughter from behind you and raise your head to look over your shoulder, where you see the girls waving – grinning – and Karen hooting and hollering, knowing how things were likely to go. 

“Why– why did you change your mind?” you ask, breathless, gripping your hands tight in your lap. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just thought about it last night. Thought– hell– once thought no one would have me. Then some pretty girl shows up an’-- well– guess your words hit a chord last time we talked.”

“Arthur, nobody in their right mind wouldn’t have you.”

The rest of the trip is spent in relative quiet, your mind busy processing the fact that Arthur would be staying. The stop at Rhodes for food was brief, the pass through Emerald Ranch even briefer. Then it was up to O’Creagh’s Run, where Arthur stopped by an old man’s cabin. The man had spared you a knowing smile, clapped Arthur on the back, offered to take you both fishing later, then sent you your way.

After that, it was just a little roundabout trip to avoid the steep parts of the mountain range, and soon, you two were passing into a clearing where a log tower came into view. It was a sturdy, impossibly pristine place, likely recently abandoned. A nearby campfire was still smoldering, but Arthur noted that people rarely passed through. Ambarino was a scarce place after all, with few homesteads and little reason to visit. And – on the off chance some other alpha was too nosy for their own good – the top of the tower provided ample range for Arthur to threaten them off with a gun.

Settling in, you were starting to feel the haze of your heat, but luckily, Arthur had given you some privacy to prepare. He waited outside, by the campfire, scavenging through the leftovers of the former occupants to see if they’d abandoned any cans of food. In the meantime, you’d bundled up your extra blankets and pillows, 

Once overcome by the sweltering heat of Lemoyne, now the cold of the Grizzlies has drifted through the opening at the top of the tower, allowing the cool air to sink and settle around you, and paired with the blankets still lightly scented with the smell of fellow omegas, it begins to slowly you into a sense of security. The stove can be turned on later if needed, to warm both some food and you – but for now, the temperature is satisfactory, and in your chemise, the urge to sleep is instant. You don’t even fight it. Within minutes, you’re drifting off into peaceful nothingness.

And that’s when the sound of a gunshot awakens you.

“Arthur?”

You call out his name in the dead quiet, clutching the blankets close. Your heat is on the edge of full force, and you’re just barely lucid enough to stand. Which you do.

“Arthur?” you repeat, bare feet falling in succession on the wooden floor.

Then it hits you – the swarm of what felt like dozens of other scents. The disgusting mixture of chalk and rotten food, pungent chemicals, and more. But somewhere in the middle, there’s the familiar smell of leather – the warmth of whiskey, and the freshness of rain.

And you notice – it’s raining.

There’s no more gunshots, not that you can hear, but now there’s the sound of a struggle outside. Gasps and coughs and grunts, among the sound of fists landing hard on flesh and bone. You flinch repeatedly at each blow and finally decide to peek through the window, where in the dark of night, you can barely make out the silhouettes of several people.

Two bodies lie still in the grass, water gathering in the wrinkles of their shirts. Three more are standing – one, you make out to be Arthur, while the other two are clearly trying to beat him to a pulp.

Emphasis on trying.

With a well placed kick to the gut, Arthur sends another one flying, and now it’s just him and the seemingly equally large man left.

You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make a good guess. Why else would a group of alphas swarm to one spot when an omega’s in heat? The thought makes you sick, and you cover your mouth, slumping against the wall by the window and forcing the bile down. 

It takes seemingly forever, but after a while, the sound dies down. One more glance out the window confirms that Arthur is the only one left standing – because of course he is – and the sight of his outline, standing against the bright of far-off lightning strikes, shoulders rising and falling with every labored breath – it makes you want to crawl right into his arms.

But as you open the door and the full strength of your scent floods down the path towards him, his body goes rigid. There’s something wrong.

“Arthur?” you call out a third time. Then a pause.

“... Arthur?”

He turns, and you see the spots of red splattered across his face. There’s this wild look in his eye – not the mix of affection and lust that you’d seen so long ago, but the pure animalistic drive of alpha pheromones. In the rain, the scent hits you. Yes – leather. Whiskey. The smell of dust after rain.

The heat pools in your blood, but so, too, does your body call you to run.

And you do.

_

Oh, you want the third part? The lovely, lovely smut? Check out my ao3

[kalmiaphlox]

If You Give a Vampire a Polymorph Scroll Pt 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link / Masterlist

If you give a vampire a polymorph scroll, he's going to sow a little chaos. When he creates that chaos, he'll probably want someone by his side. When he has that someone, they are going to be very, very naughty.

Alternatively: Astarion turns Kalmia into a little lizard. They commit crimes and have fun because Astarion likes some chaos, and Kalmia will never deny him.

Main Tags: Tiny Dragon, blood drinking, payback, Catstarion, dancing on the beach, idiots in love

Hungry.

Food. 

Must eat. So hungry.

Why is that man talking to Astarion?

EatEatEat

The man approaches her and she pauses in her feeding. “Pretty thing that one is, are you a sorcerer? I've heard they carry dragons around to connect with their heritage, so the-”

Astarion has bristled, he doesn't like sorcerers. She knows that. “ Don't touch her. Now run along now, we aren't interested in company.”

Will Astarion eat him? I eat him . 

Very hungry.

“How much for the lizard? It's clearly defective, I can give you-”

Jumping up to his feet, Astarion grabs the man's collar, pulling them face to face, seething with hatred. “Fuck. Off. Before I gut you like the pig you are.” He flashes his pearly fangs in the moonlight, hand inching towards his dagger.

Why not just kill him? They can eat so good . 

FoodFood

The man stumbles back, slipping in the sand before running off for who knows where. 

She's tired of the mindlessness. 

Breaking the spell, Kalmia returns to herself, if a few pounds heavier. By the Gods, she ate too much.

Astarion startles, “How did you do that? I didn't stop the spell!”

Ugh, her head. It's so nice to think normally again. “ Irthiski , you do know beings that shape change can easily shrug off polymorph? I was being nice by playing along.”

“What?! But your mother-”

“ Mother is an ancient fucking dragon, her magic and whatever cheap scroll you used are very, very different. I'd expect a magistrate to read the fine print.” She brushes sand from her body. Oh, she will ache tomorrow. “Why didn't you kill that man? Are you going soft on me?”

“I don't know. I should- ugh, he tried to buy you. I should have torn his damn throat out.” He seems uncomfortable with the subject, strange when he rarely turns down a meal.

“Want to share or drop it?”

Raking a hand through his flawless curls, Astarion groans in frustration. It's always a sight when he's at a loss for words. “He just- He reminded me of some of my targets, from back then . I had a type you could say… before I moved on to literally anyone that would give me the time because it was quicker - didn't want to leave Cazador waiting.”

She had barely acknowledged that man, her damned brain too consumed with consuming. He hasn't spoken much about his targets in specifics, the only one she knows by name is Sebastian, but that's it. “I understand.” They both are struggling with words to say. It's a fragile subject, she'd hate to get it wrong. 

“I know you do. Why don't we go home? I'm more intere-”

“There's the monster! ” They were too engrossed in their conversation to see a mob coming their way. That man is back, with three other people in tow, ready for a fight. “My lady, get away from him! He's a vampire!”

How fucking dare they! Monster? Monster?!

She glares at the offenders, then looks back to Astarion, who is watching her carefully. “Can I kill them, irthiski ?”

He sighs and waves her off, “Knock them out, I'm hungry.”

“ All of them?”

“Ugh, yes. ”

Good enough. Kalmia strides towards the men, it's not quite “pitchforks and torches”, they're a little more prepared than that with some proper armor, weapons and a magic user.

Not that it means anything to her.

The man from earlier speaks, “My lady, are you unharmed? Come quickly to us, we will-” She sucker punches him, knocking the lad out instantly. The three others gape as she lunges for them, smashing two heads together, and punching the last one in the jaw.

Easy .

“My liege, dinner is served.” She bows dramatically with a wave of her hands.

Astarion inspects the bodies, tilting his head this way and that. “Hmm, you split his lip, and that one's cheek is busted. I'll have to deduct some points for the loss of blood. Otherwise, not too bad.”

“ Wux re vi inloil di tawura .” She says with a sniff. 

Pausing his inspections to translate, he chuckles. “Darling, presentation matters… but, I won't complain. Nothing beats having my meals served fresh .”

“You already did complain, but… whatever.” Stepping away to let him gorge, she stares out across the vast ocean, ships bobbing along with the waves and who knows what sea creatures lie beneath the peaceful view.

It'll be warm enough for those swimming lessons soon. She hopes Astarion will still want to (re)learn when they get the chance.

Shuffling behind her lets her know he's done, and turning around, Kalmia finds that Astarion is already taking care of the bodies. She hadn't expected him to fully drain that man , but, hmm… There's no need to push right now. “Want me to dump those?”

He flaps his hand at her, “I can handle it. Only seems fair that I clean up when you provided .”

Eugh, who is this man and what has he done to Astarion? 

She'll let the imposter stay though, they can still have fun.

When the bodies have been disposed of, Astarion sidles up to her with a soft smile, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. What a cute kitty. He always fills her with butterflies, a feeling she once thought long lost to her. 

Intertwining their fingers, Kalmia pulls him close. “Have you ever danced on the beach?”

“Can't say that I have. Do you want to dance?” He feathers the lightest of kisses along her cheek before nipping at the soft skin there.

“I thought you'd never ask!” She laughs, returning his kisses with a deep one, flicking her tongue across his lips. He's clearly hungry for more but she pulls away, “Dancing first, other fun later.”

He groans in an exaggerated manner, but takes the lead, one hand clasped with hers and the other around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they begin swaying together, just moving across the sand in rhythmic motion.

This is no ballroom waltz, it's just two people very in love slow dancing under the moonlight to the music in their head.

It's perfect.

Astarion closes his eyes, resting his cheek against hers. “I dont think I'll ever get tired of all this.”

“I sure hope not, irthiski .”

With a spin and dip, he supports Kalmia as they kiss once more. She feels very lucky at this moment to have not been born with wild magic capabilities, there would have been explosions from how sweet this scene makes her feel.

“Shall we head home, my love?”

“Yes.”

++++

Astarion is practically buzzing as he draws his stolen fabrics from his bags, inspecting each piece diligently for damage and dirt, before writing notes onto some loose parchment.

Kalmia loves the way his brow furrows in concentration and the twitch of his lips when scrutinizing a thread out of place, pulling at it with a look of utter disgust. He should use one of those magnifying glasses to help him pour over each and every filament in the fibers.

When the cloths meet his standards, he packs them away into the side room, where the door is near permanently closed. Only Astarion may enter now, his projects too precious for others to lay eyes on.

Ah, she loves him so dearly.

And she knows, without a doubt, that he returns all that love. Deeply, needily, happily, harshly. 

But he needs to pay the price of his actions. She allowed his prank to extend on much longer than it should have, and someone in the household had asked for a kitty.

Kalmia can provide.

“Mutatio Forma!” Her voice rings out, enveloping her nasty vampire in a purple mist that once dissipated, leaves a spitting cat with the plushest, whitest fur she has ever laid eyes on. 

His coat is fluffy without being poofy, and the tail is swishing around angrily, as he yowls, “What have you done to me? You vile fiend!” There is rage in those blood red eyes, shining like rubies against that gorgeous white face.

Kalmia squeals in delight. “Oh, look at you!! What a handsome boy!” 

He hisses, sharp teeth at the ready with back arched as she reaches forward to scratch under his chin. Any fight in him is lost, becoming a puddle of fur in her hands as he purrs louder than a certain dragon. 

Cradling her kitty in her arms, she takes him to their room so he can admire himself in the mirror. 

Of course, Astarion is absolutely enamored with himself in any iteration. “Look at that shine! Oh, I really do take care of myself.” Hopping down from the vanity, he winds between her legs, tail curling around her ankle as he does so. “Can't you brush me?” 

She obliges, pulling the comb from the bathroom and waiting for him to settle in her lap once she sits on the bed. He curls up tightly, having accepted his fate, while Kalmia runs through his wispy fur with the brush. The hum of his purr is so powerful it vibrates through her fingertips.

If it weren't for other matters, she would brush him until the sun burns out.  

-wux re vi inloil di tawura = you're a piece of work -Astarion is a Turkish angora here. I almost chose a ragdoll or Persian, but I think he'd be a bit more sleek

[highlordofkrypton]

CHAPTER 3 SUMMARY

Lilith and Asmodea cross paths with Illyrian lords at the Windhaven market. For one of them, this goes according to plan and for the other... a nightmare unfolds.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Trust the process, ya'll. We're cooking, we're COOKING! Also, this chapter contains unwanted touching which can be considered as SA (mild, very brief).

TAGS: @achaotichuman @amalhe-kofee @watcherintheweyr @darah-g @thrumbolt

READ BELOW THE CUT OR ON AO3.

Windhaven is the closest settlement to a city or a capital among her people. Warlords from near and far cross through here, though all are of Illyrian nature. It boasts only a handful of solid structures, including the halfway house for the orphaned girls who are unwanted until they come of age. The rest of it are tents made of supple fabrics for the summer with inlets that allow for the weaving of leathers and furs during the colder months. The largest tents are owned by the most important members of her people, the strongest of warriors, and the smaller ones are communal tents shared by less... important members of their people.

“Stop fidgeting,” Asmodea reprimands.

“No. If they’re going to stare, I’ll put on a show.”

“You forget that your strangeness makes you endearing.”

“Ugh,” Lilith groans and stops walking in her worst Illyrian warrior mimicry. “Let’s just— oof.” She walks straight into her sister, nearly headbutting the tuft of black rich black curls Asmodea is known for. She makes an uncouth ‘ pft, pft ’ sound to free her mouth of errand strands. “ What is going on with you?”

Asmodea turns to her, a flush on her ochre cheeks. “He’s coming this way!” She hisses beneath her breath. 

“Who?” Lilith tips her head to look behind her. Her eyes widen and she grabs Asmodea’s wrist to take her away, but Asmodea resists. “ What are you doing?”

“He’s already seen us! It will be insulting to run away.”

“Are you sure it’s not the fact that you don’t want to run away?”

“ Teuta sis,” comes the low rumble of an Illyrian lord. My people. My sisters. 

“ Teuta bra, ” Asmodea says softly, keeping her eyes downcast and her head bowed. Lilith does not reciprocate, looking the warlord directly in the eyes and willing to face the consequences.

Lord Bato is a slender man, unfitting for a man of his rank. The Lords of the Dardani earn their titles through bloodbath. They must first earn their warrior’s title in the Blood Rite—while the females lose their wings, the males earn theirs—and only a Carynthian may eventually ascend to lord. (If only they could all fight for that chance. If she could show them how she fights to survive, only then would she accept the consequences of her failure.) They say that though Bato is small, his mind is cunning and for cunning to outweigh so much raw power, Lilith can only imagine the things he is willing to do.

He looks upon her with a cocked brow, curious that a little thing like her would dare meet his eyes. A smile blooms on his handsome features, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She thinks to ask him what amuses him so when she feels the warmth of someone pressed up against her wings, locking them to her back. A strong arm wraps around her waist, forcing her to bend and the pressure of it makes her feel ill, especially so soon after taking her concoction. 

Lilith is forced into submission when a hand buries itself in her dark hair, leaving her no choice but to look down. The position is humiliating, bringing fire to her cheeks as her hips are pressed against… against—

“I can smell you ripening.” 

No, no, no!

As soon as she starts to struggle, Lilith is released. She nearly barrels forward into her sister and the other lord. The more she fights, the worse it is, and she can already feel the crowd assembling around them. Lilith keeps her eyes down this time, not wanting to meet the eyes of her very personal nightmare.

“ Teutan Dardani,” she says, urging her voice to be steady and calm. Those around her repeat the words. King of the Dardani people.

King Brykos grunts, and the village resumes its regular hustle. The crowd is freed, but not her. He pulls her to him again roughly, planting her at his side and strokes her cheek as he speaks to his lesser.

“Does that one interest you?”

Lilith’s heart kicks up, and she wonders if they all can hear it. It’s one thing to be given to a warrior after the clipping, there’s a chance to find a kind partner who would be willing to see past their use. It’s another to catch a lord’s interest. They have no time to care for people. Victories and bloodshed are more important. Asmodea will be forgotten while her husband ploughs through the battlefield.

“I have never seen anyone as lovely as she.” The smile can be heard in Lord Bato’s voice, and Lilith can see the way Asmodea shifts shyly. 

No.

“You should be honoured. They say the fruit is much sweeter once it has had time to mature. Claim her before another tries to.”

“And I will wait as long as she wants me to, if she will have me at all.” 

Lord Bato’s words are kind and sweet, the opposite of the King’s. Still, Lilith does not trust any of them. These lords and Kings choose to uphold a system that benefits only them—a system that is not part of their culture. Lilith has seen members of the Autariatae, the few who do choose to leave their recluse village high up in the mountains, and has encountered them on her flights. Their women are free to rule alongside the men. She has heard of the mythical Ardiaei, a seaside tribe long rumoured to be extinct, who worshipped the goddess of the sea along with the goddess of the sun. Their mightiest seafarers and naval commanders were female. 

Only the Dardani who have allied themselves with the High Faeries have adopted these practices and for what. What changed with the arrivals of the High Fae? Did they demand this of her people? Or was it Brykos himself and his twisted pleasures that he inflicts upon his entire people? Before him, there was no King, only lords.

“You do not need to be so charming. They will spread their legs for you regardless. I much prefer it when they fight.” King Brykos’ rough fingers clasp around Lilith’s chin and wrench her head towards him. “Isn't it right, my sweet?”

Lilith keeps looking away, even if it pains her. She will not show fear, and she will not acknowledge him. 

“I cannot wait to have you.” 

King Brykos licks a long stripe along Lilith’s cheek before tossing her to the ground. She waits for the couple heartbeats it takes for him to disappear in the crowd of the morning market and vomits her breakfast into the dirt. She can hear Asmodea apologizing to Lord Bato on her behalf, and her gentle hands are helping Lilith up.

“His Highness seems to have taken to you.” The Lord chooses his words carefully. 

“Lilith challenged him when she was a girl, and she has been paying for her discretion ever since.”

Bato laughs as he helps yank Lilith to her feet, none too kindly. “As you should. If you run your mouth, you should be able to follow through. These are the consequences of your own actions.”

Lilith flinches, pulling her arm away, feeling betrayed by the sudden… bluntness. This is a lord who wants Asmodea, yet he does not understand their plight. She can’t trust him, not with the only person in the world who matters to her.

“Come. We have things to do.” Lilith laces her fingers with Asmodea’s and pulls her along. 

Asmodea manages a quick bow, and glance, at towards the young war-lord before scurrying along behind Lilith. The two girls lose themselves in the crowd, pushing past the buyers standing at open stalls who haggle for the best prices. The shouting is drowned out by Lilith’s own hammering fear. 

“Lilith, will you slow down?”

“No.”

“You’re going to walk us right out of Windhaven!”

“And would that be a bad thing?!” 

Asmodea frees her hand from Lilith’s painful grip and stares at her sister. “Yes! You are the one who told King Brykos he would never have you. You are the one who keeps fighting the order of things. You might be able to survive out there, but I cannot.”

“Az, he is going to use you and abandon you. He is a warlord. There is nothing more important than the blood he spills and the males you bear. We are not a people anymore. We are… pieces of an army for a High Lord that might not even exist. Brykos calls himself king, but he still has a master and his resentment trickles down to us. There are other tribes. Other Courts that may be more tolerant. We can leave, Az.”

Asmodea steps back.

“No, Lils. You can. You’re afraid of the clipping, and I am too, but I am more afraid of what’s out there. I do not want to spend my life running. I would rather be abandoned in a warm tent, knowing where my next meal will come from, and giving my love to a little one for as long as I can, than die of hunger and cold.”

This can’t be right. Lilith watches her sister, fists clenched and sorrow swirling in her mind. They have always done things together. Most things. She does not remember a time where she has been without her friend-turned-sister. Loneliness threatens to swallow her whole.

“Az—”

“The answer is no.”

Tears sting her eyes, worse than when she had refused to look at Brykos. Lilith blinks them away, and exhales a shuddered breath. There is nothing she can do, except accept what Asmodea wants for her future. “Fine.”

Asmodea approaches Lilith. She takes her hands once more and holds them against her chest. “Look at the bright side, Lils. This means there will be no clipping ceremony in the square, and Lord Bato is kind. Perhaps he can strike a deal with King Brykos and we can stay together.”

“Just… Think about this a bit, Az.” 

“I have. I’ve liked him for a long time.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Even if I wasn’t. This is my only chance.”

[jellymellydraws]

Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 10 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Gale had spent some time studying the tadpole they got from the Grove, but his talk on its potential benefits gets snuffed out by Lae'zel. Rose needs to confront the gith about her reactions to any tadpole talk around camp. The party makes camp outside the blighted village, strategize next steps for the goblins, then take a much needed bath in the river. Privately, Rose investigates some scars she discovered over the last few days.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“I didn’t think you could stop,” Shadowheart giggled with a smirk.

“Like you’d die if you stopped, really,” Astarion added, a smirk highlighting his own tone.

Gale had been preparing breakfast, as he usually did. But before this very usual morning, he had an unusual several nights of camp where he turned a bottle in his hand. The tadpole within it wriggled, desperate to connect through the glass of its prison. Even when Rose had asked him to turn in early, he was adamant about studying the parasite which plagued them. She wondered when they would hear the excited ramblings of a wizard who made a discovery.

Maybe this was the morning.

“Ha ha, not so smart to tease the one holding the food,” Gale mocked, both plates meant for them being held out of reach. Alfira and Wyll joined the breakfast circle, who were chuckling when custody of the meals were awarded to them.

“Come on,” the high elf scoffed, “it was just a joke.”

“I don’t hear him laughing,” Rose yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eye.

Astarion clicked his tongue and put on his signature pout. One of many masks she became familiar with. Maybe they’ll stumble on a bag of holding so he could stash them all in one place.

Either out of pity or because he was well-humored, Gale extended a plate to Astarion. One she promptly swiped with a smirk.

“How dare you—“

“It’s just a joke,” Rose sat down with her plate of food.

“You cheeky pup.”

“Ugh,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes, “Gale keep the plate. If these two are going to start flirting this early, I’m better off without an appetite.”

“Feeling jealous?” Astarion playfully slinked an arm around her shoulders, earning a scoff from the cleric.

“Hardly.”

“Anyway,” Gale gave the elf his plate at last, “as I was trying to say earlier, I was studying the tadpole specimen we got from the grove. After what we witnessed the other day, I did some experimenting!”

Yes! She knew it! Time for an informative brief from Gale of Waterdeep. Today’s topic: the tadpole. 

“We know that our tadpoles are modified, but we don’t know why or how. An oddity on its own, but then we also have witnessed — first hand, might I add— that we not only connect to each other through these tadpoles, but also with anyone that has this brand of the ‘Absolute!’”

They already knew that. Well, Rose knew that. It was pretty obvious the day they ran into those siblings on the road. When they called her a True Soul, when Sazza changed her tune and became subservient. She quickly glanced at the others to read their expressions. Most of it was expected: Wyll and Shadowheart listening respectfully, Alfira looking up with her big doe eyes in admiration, Lae’zel also giving Gale the attention she found him worthy of (the fact he was worthy was high praise on its own), and Astarion looking bored out of his mind as he pushed food across his plate. Considering how intensely some were taking in the information, it was clear that most of the others came to a similar understanding. Gale was verifying what they already knew, which was better than him debunking it entirely. A small victory, she told herself.

“It begs the question, what more can these tadpoles do?” Gale paused to take a few bites from his plate. For someone who was eager to share his theories, why would he give pause now? Astarion, she noticed, had stopped playing with his food and stared up with interest. By the way the wizard grinned, it must’ve been what he hoped for, “Illithids don’t use magic from the weave the way that we do, they are in another league of ability known as Psionics.”

“Is that more or less powerful than the weave?” Astarion asked.

“Ah, that’s—”

“Does it matter?” Lae’zel hissed, setting aside her emptied plate.

“Well, yes,” the elf answered matter-of-factly, “if it’s more powerful, maybe we should consider tapping into these psionics that our wizard friend is talking about.”

“I haven’t finished—” 

“We cannot trust anything that came from ghaik, any further use of them is only going to turn us faster!”  

No matter the attempt, Gale could not regain control of his morning announcement.

Rose adjusted in her seat. Lae’zel might’ve gotten friendlier with the group, but the tadpole situation was still a sore spot. She felt her plate lighten in her hand, and was relieved to see Shadowheart was willing to hold her plate if she had to intervene. Gods she hoped it wouldn’t come to that, first thing in the morning.

“Hmmm but there hasn’t been a tentacle in sight,” Astarion continued while waving a forkful of food. He pointed it directly at the gith to punctuate his next point, “maybe this Absolute Goddess has something to do with that?”

“So you would risk it?!”

“Why not?! While I don’t particularly mind the little pest, there are some strengths that I think it’s taken from me. If it has something to offer, why not accept?”

“I see you like to flash a pretty smile to pretty faces— how effective do you think that would be once your teeth begin rotting out of your maw? When that hair, which you spend precious hours to style—“

“It doesn’t take hours.”

“It won’t take any time once it melts off your head.”

Lae’zel made her point.

Gale couldn’t find it within himself to continue the topic after that. Another conversation about their tadpoles snuffed out before it could really begin. Shadowheart leaned towards Rose’s ear as she returned the plate. Rose glared at the cleric.

“Don’t.” She whispered, warningly. Shadowheart leaned away without a word, but kept that judgemental face about her.

While they were breaking down camp, Rose approached Lae’zel. It was hardly the private counsel she wanted to have, but the conversation was overdue.

“Lae’zel,” Rose stopped in front of the perfectly packed tent, “this needs to stop.”

The gith glared up at her as she hoisted the bag onto her back.

“I thought you stronger than to let your infatuation cloud your judgement,” she accused, leaning close to Rose’s face.

The assassin stood firm, arms crossed and expression unwaveringly. Tone, even and calm.

“And I thought you stronger than to lose your temper so over a simple question.”

“You’re right, I am stronger. Perhaps I’m wasting time here when I should be looking for my kin.”

“Then why haven’t you done that? You’ve had plenty of chances to leave our little camp and go off on your own. But you don’t.”

Lae’zel snarled. There it was again, that temper. She made a great warrior, for sure, but one mentio of their peril and she unravels. Rose narrowed her eyes. The tadpole wriggled, connecting briefly to the one in front of her. It didn’t take much prodding to feel the anger, but somewhere beneath it she could sense something else…

“You’re afraid,” Rose realized, flatly.

“Never.”

She sighed through her nose, taking a measured step back from the gith.

“Lae’zel, if you want nothing to do with the tadpoles, that’s your business—“

“It is all—“

“Let me finish!”

The whole camp was watching them by now, it became uncomfortably clear. Rose shot a glare at the crowd, who quickly turned away and tried to look busy with literally anything else. They failed miserably with the charade.

“We need each other. If some of us want to pursue the tadpole’s potential, that is our business.” She lifted a hand to stop the gith from interrupting, again, “if any of us start to turn, you’ll be within your right to kill us. On the spot.”

She watched her expression closely. Though her words were fully sincere, she knew it was still a longshot for Lae’zel to believe them. But something must have landed true, because the gith relaxed her stance. Not her face, but that was a harder ask.

“The reason I haven’t worried about our predicament is because I trust you enough to handle it if we start to lose ourselves.”

“If that were true, why do you insist on entertaining the foolish thought of embracing it?”

“Because it’s clear that we’re not dealing with a regular mindflayer parasite— you even acknowledge as much. And if the goblins are benefitting from psionics, then we need to be able to counter them. I’m trying to consider all the options available to us. I can’t do that if you shut down every conversation that you disagree with.”

Lae’zel ‘chk’ed in response, tearing her eyes away from Rose in favor of the ground.

“Fine. I’ll hold my tongue…as long as I still have one.”

Alfira refused to let the awkward silence follow their travel. The casual strumming of her lute was a nice touch, even if it wasn’t appreciated by everyone. Particularly Astarion, who loudly protested the start of her musical march. It didn’t seem to bother the bard, who gracefully pranced to the back of the line as she played. If it wasn’t for the violin on his back, Rose would forget that he ever played an instrument. 

The quiet Artiste stalked to the front of the marching order. Gale was continuing to plead his case for the tadpole’s potential when an arm draped around Rose’s shoulder.

“What’s say you,” Astarion asked in his oh-so charming tone, “these tadpoles could prove useful, why not take advantage of their power?”

Gale looked like he would protest to the interruption, but he looked just as interested in Rose’s answer as the elf. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“I’m not going to dismiss it so quickly,” she admitted.

“I knew I liked you.”

“But we’d be fools to dive in before we understand the consequences,” she eyed both the wizard and their mischievous friend, “it could be about as useful as a cursed trinket.”

“Ugh, now you’re ruining it. Go back to agreeing with me.”

“No,” she playfully rolled her shoulder, letting his arm fall off her.

The sun hung low in the sky, challenging them to travel through the night unless they found a place to camp soon. The lute strumming had nearly stopped. Now only a chord played every few steps, but softly at the back of the line. Astarion was beginning to whine, Lae’zel was ready to end his suffering (and hers).

When the trees opened before them, they were met with the glorious sight of a bridge leading to the gates of a village. The sound of flowing water graced their ears, inviting them to draw nearer. Without crossing the bridge itself, they stared at the village entrance. There was little movement at the gate, not even guards. but what she could see were the broken carts and motionless bodies littering the path in front of them.

Goblins were there, alright. As expected, no survivors. She could only imagine the state that village would be in once they entered.

“This is it,” Rose sighed with the exhaustion of a day’s travel, “the temple should be just past this village.”

“Might be best to call it a night,” Wyll added with a hand clasping on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’d be able to take on a whole village of goblins,” Alfira agreed with a soft strum.

“Let’s scout the area and find a spot for camp,” she commanded the group with a small smile, “preferably one near the water.”

Seeking a campsite by the water somehow managed to be an unreasonable request. But not impossible. There was a spot downhill from the village and right by the river, perfect for them to set up for the night. Maybe longer, depending on what they decide. The trick would depend on if the goblins ever left the village for their water, or if their source was opposite of their direction.

For the goblins’ sake, it better be as far from the campsite as possible.

The command tent was built around a pile of large, flat stones, large enough to spread the map out. Shadowheart cast a series of lights to illuminate the tent. It was more cramped around than it would have been with a regular table, but they don’t really get that luxury when traveling light.

Rose twisted the charcoal stick between her fingers as she stared at their plans. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart were closest to the map, either pointing at locations or creating marks on their personal travel maps.

“The temple is a walk away, we should ambush it in the cover of night,” Lae’zel insisted, trailing a nail from the village to the temple on the map.

“I want to know what we would be walking into first,” Rose’s brows furrowed while scanning the map for potential options, “Escape routes, enemies— how big is this horde actually ? Who’s leading them?” She directed the questions to the whole tent. When no one answered, she continued, “we were under the impression that they’re working with Drow— but Sazza talked about a Goblin Priestess as her commander…”

“We’re going to trust what a goblin says?” Shadowheart questions with repulsion, “She could be lying.”

“Exactly. We need more information before we go in. If Sazza double-crosses us, we need to be prepared. No surprises.”

“We shouldn’t have any trouble walking right in. Why don’t we just do that?” Astarion casually suggested, leaning against the ‘table’ as he flipped his dagger in boredom.

The whole tent focused on Astarion, who was just now realizing that he was, in fact, the center of attention. Although, maybe it was not quite the kind of attention he was hoping for. Lae’zel opened her mouth to respond, but stopped herself. Thinking better of it, from the looks of it. Rose crossed her arms, looking at the elf who didn’t seem to be paying attention to most of their conversation.

“Elaborate,” she commanded.

“Um…” he stammered, holding the blade still as he looked between their companions and their leader, “well they seem to think we have some sort of ranking above them, so…oh I don’t know? We tell them we’re True Souls and that sorts it out?” He waved his hand casually at the grimaces thrown his way, “don’t look at me like that, Rose is the details person here!”

Chaos broke out within the tent as arguments about tadpoles and goblins took over their whole meeting.

Kill the guards.

Go around the village.

Monitor the camp.

Tap into the tadpoles (somehow).

Rose pondered any idea she could catch, and stared at the map calculating each move. Kill the guards? Well, they’d need to know which ones were the guards. Go around the village? Reasonable. But they didn’t know if there were any patrols that would give them trouble along the way. Monitor the camp? First they needed to get to the camp…hence the other ideas.

On top of that, they didn’t know when their luck with the tadpole would run out. But based on what they knew at this point, they had time. She had to believe they had time.

Okay…so where does that leave them?

Using night was not a bad idea, but they would need to be wise about it. The temple was a straight shot if cutting through the village, but there had to be other routes. Three of the pebbles bunched over their campsite were pushed towards the temple marker. She stood back and eyed the divided pebbles which made up their party. Next to the temple she quickly scribbled ‘Sazza???’

Where was she? The storm would have slowed her down, but they were only half a day behind. 

Another dark line was dragged from the village towards the grove, concluding that if the goblins were going after the grove, they would’ve run into their forces over the last few days.

Their information wasn’t going to get them much further. Not without proper reconnaissance.

Gods, she hated surprises.

“Listen up!” Rose clapped her hands together, reigning in the chaos.

Good thing she did, since it had escalated dramatically. Alfira had retreated to a safe corner of the tent, protected by Wyll who was between everyone else and Lae’zel. The gith was snarling in Astarion’s face, who met her with a balanced expression of a glare and smirk.

Wonderful…

“Lae’zel,” she began, tapping a spot on the map, “find a clear path to the temple. Use the cover of night to hide from potential patrols. Wyll, go with her for backup. Establish multiple routes and a good place to set up a scouting post so we can keep eyes on it during the day. We have more than enough people to cover watches while you are gone. We can sort out finer details after we get your report in the morning.”

“See? I knew she’d come up with a plan,” Astarion slinked away from the face-off, “now are we done? I’d like to take advantage of our riverside camp and get the muck and grime washed off.”

She waved him off, adjourning their entire meeting. Wyll and Lae’zel stayed behind to talk more about this scouting plan with Rose.

It was fascinating what could be learned by a simple wash schedule. Lae’zel didn’t care if she was joined by anyone or not. Expected. Most of the others preferred privacy, which worked out perfectly when they learned that Alfira was the only one who had soap in their pack. Astarion had disappeared after he left the command tent, but hadn’t returned. Honestly, he looked to be the type to take long baths, so it wasn’t too questionable.

By the time it was Rose’s turn to bathe, the soap had shrunk to less than half its size. Alfira smiled apologetically, as if she was to blame. 

“Unless you used all that soap yourself, you don’t need to apologize,” she assured the tiefling before walking to the riverside.

She maintainted regular steps until she was certain that she was out of view. Then it was a sprint to the river. She shoved the end of her torch into the mud, kneeling by the riverbank as she peeled her top off and tossed it behind her. The firelight bounced off the water, giving her enough reflection to investigate. Shaky fingers traced disfigured lines that marked her front.

During their night in the owlbear cave, she first discovered them. It was a routine check for injuries, but none had been found. Instead, she felt them. Cuts that had long healed, but too precise in their trajectories to be from battles. She refused to let anyone look her over until she could make sense of them. And tonight, she could.

Finally, in the firelight, with the river to act as her mirror, she saw them. Clean. Precise. Surgical. Scars that healed over incisions. Her stomach twisted as she looked at them. Heart racing. There was something terribly wrong about these marks.

Her breathing quickened, trying to remember. Begging herself to remember.

What happened to me?

Tracing along a line down the center of her chest. Her fingers curled, mimicking the act of peeling flesh back. Flashes of red crossed her mind. Drumming in her ears.

No, focus. I need to focus, damn it.

She took a shaky breath, stilling her racing thoughts. Okay. She could do this. With a gulp, she looked back to herself. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, sweat covering her brow. But she was in control. Full control.

An incision down her chest. The urge to open it up. Suddenly her chest tightened, as if she could feel her own ribs cracking. Somehow she could tell this would’ve been a cut made to get in her chest. Was it her heart? Had there been something wrong with it, once?

At the base of her ribcage, the line forked into two paths above her stomach area. She concentrated on her breathing, allowing herself again to follow her muscle memory. Curling of fingers, desiring to pull back the cut flesh. Her other hand moved downwards. To…her organs? Which ones? She couldn’t figure out those details.

The other was much the same. A long, precise scar stretching down her stomach. Another place to give access to some of her vital innards.

She wondered if she had done these to herself, or someone she trusted? Some of the cuts overlapped with each other, signifying that she had been cut open at different points in time, partially healed, then had been cut open again.

Another bunch of questions she needed answers to. She reached for her pack when she heard the rustling nearby. Instintively, she pulled out a dagger and threw it in the direction of the sound. It thunked into a tree, and the rustling stopped. Rose scrambled to her feet, pulling her shirt back over her head.

“Show yourself!”

Next Chapter >>

[pebblysand]

[LET'S TALK WRITING] - FANFICTION STATS - UPDATE

Hello, hello! I hope you’re all doing well. 

As you may have seen, I recently (by which I mean, months ago lol, time flies) received this anon as part of a truth or dare tag game daring me to share my AO3 stats. 

If you’ve been following me for a while, you might remember that I already posted a detailed analysis of my fanfiction stats back in January 2023 (which you can read in full here). However, I thought this anon would be a great opportunity to revisit that post, review my stats again over 18 months later, and see what has changed.

General disclaimer: All the disclaimers from my original post still apply (I’m not an expert, avoid this if stats aren’t your thing, I’m very fortunate, my methodology isn’t perfect, etc.). I won’t be repeating much of the previous analysis but will focus on the changes over the past 18 months. I recommend reading both posts together for the full picture.

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GENERAL OVERVIEW

As of the day of writing, 29 June 2024, here are my general stats as they are made available to me by AO3. I am including the same screenshot dated 25 January 2023 (from my old post) for comparison.

So, what can we see? 

I wrote 183,191 words in 18 months, which is terrifying. Per Nano standards, that’s three novels and a bit. 

Last year, I’d commented on my subscriber count being relatively “low” - that’s still the case. I think the reasons I speculated about last year remain valid, and I still find the smaller number somewhat reassuring.

I’ve gained a pretty sizeable chunk everywhere, so thank you all, haha, that’s thanks to you. 

As of the day of writing, 25 January 2022, here are my general stats as they are made available to me by FFN. I am including the same screenshot dated 25 January 2023 (from my old post) for comparison. 

As most of you know, I don’t really use FFN much anymore, so it's not surprising that the numbers there are quite low. The only thing I still update on FFN is castles, which still gets some readership.

There's a historical difference between my FFN and AO3 catalogues. When I transitioned to AO3 in 2013/2014, I only moved content I deemed "worth" transferring. So, there's work on FFN that isn't on AO3. Similarly, I now post all my one-shots exclusively on AO3. This explains some of the discrepancies you'll see later between the two platforms.

Interestingly, my AO3 word count has finally surpassed my FFN word count, and this is even before posting chapter 22 of castles on FFN (ugh, this is on my to-do list for this week, I swear). So, yay! I’m officially more of an AO3 girlie.

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GETTING THE FFN STATS OUT OF THE WAY

I think we can all agree that AO3 has now surpassed FFN as a website (though I do have issues with AO3, I won’t lie), so I will focus most of this post on AO3 stats and beyond. However, I will say that as a platform, FFN provides authors with much better statistics than AO3 does. That is because they’ve fallen into a capitalist hellscape and probably sell all of our data to advertisers but … you know. As such, while I don’t want to spend too much time on these, I still think there are a few things we can learn. 

I will go into my top fics on FFN v. top fics on AO3 and why I think they differ in a later section. But at this point, I’d like to focus on two things: 

The Country Breakdown:

To me, this remains the most interesting feature on FFN, that you don’t get on AO3. Unfortunately, it only gives you this information on a monthly basis (you can’t aggregate the top countries of all time), so the below includes last year's screenshot (January 2023) and this year's (June 2024). Both were taken at the end of the month, so I reckon they're relatively representative.

(views are blue, visitors are yellow. for an explanation on the difference between views and visitors, see here. this is cumulative of all fics i have published, but ffn gives you the ability to break it down per fic if you’d like)

Thoughts: The first thing that stands out to me is that my overall view count on FFN has plummeted over the past 18 months. Initially, I thought this might be due to a general decline in FFN's usage, but when I look back at my February 2024 stats, they match what I saw in January 2023. This suggests the decline is more likely due to my not posting castles for four months, rather than anything else.

All the other conclusions I drew in my old post still hold true.

Interestingly, the top five countries for my readership almost perfectly align with our top countries for the podcast. This correlation makes me think AO3 stats (if available) would show a similar pattern. It raises the question of which drives which: are the podcast stats like this because of my fanfic audience demographics, or is my audience shaped by the podcast's reach? Or, is it that just generally, English speaking countries are more likely to consume English-language media and/or be in fandom? It's an intriguing chicken-and-egg scenario.

The Chapter by Chapter Breakdown:

i am selecting here January 2023 and March 2024. March is the last month where I posted on FFN, so it's more interesting to study that one.

Let me know if you spot anything else in these screenshots, but here’s what stands out to me:

The numbers are generally eerily similar

Drop-off after Chapter 3: There seems to be a more noticeable drop-off in readership after Chapter 3 compared to previous data. This makes sense because that’s when Hinny break up, so hardcore shippers might rage-quit at that point. However, after Chapter 3, the decline isn’t as steep, indicating that if people stick around past that point, they’re generally committed for the full ride.

Uptick in Latest Chapters: In both cases, there’s an increase in readership for the latest chapters. This could be due to FFN update notifications, which have been unreliable. It’s possible that people are finally receiving emails and catching up on the last 2-3 chapters they missed. But this is just a hypothesis.

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MOVING ON TO AO3

Unlike last year, I’m going to stick to HP here, because I don’t think anyone cares about my stats in other fandoms, but please let me know if you’d like a detailed breakdown of that as well. Also, I'll just repeat that this acknowledgement still stands.

I think the only thing really notable here is that in 18 months, almost everything on castles has more or less doubled, if not more. I'll write more about that below, but I don't necessarily think this means my audience has doubled.

Regarding the kudos/hits extension, I wrote this last year:

My hits/kudos ratio was a lot worse on non-HP fandoms, which is still the case. When it comes to the second point, this also seems to still be the case, with a couple of things to note:

the rare firing of wild cannons is still an outlier. I think for the same reasons exposed above.

ce ne sont que des cailloux has "finally" come down to that 8-11% range all my other one shots seem to be in. I'm not sure how to explain it. As you'll see below, it hasn't gained/lost that much more traffic/kudos this year compared to previous ones, so I really don't know.

As I'd predicted, louisville is now also in that range.

vicious as roman rule has seen a dramatic drop. I wonder if this is because it was posted at the end of 2022, so relatively close to my first post, and was the thus artificially high? I think this is a fic that is very linked to castles (although it can be read as a standalone) and it's also a bit unusual (written in future tense) so maybe that's why people don't "like" it? we only said goodbye with words seems to be the only other fic in that range, and that one is also very linked to castles. It could be the result of people clicking in, realising they haven't read the wider story and don't understand much, and clicking out.

Regarding "secret" bookmarks:

Bookmarks on AO3 are a way to "save" fics on your profile. People use this feature in various ways:

Tracking Reads: Some use bookmarks to track all the fics they’ve read.

Recommendation Lists: Others use bookmarks to build recommendation lists with varying levels of detail. For example, some treat bookmarks like Goodreads reviews, adding comments such as "2/5 fic, do not recommend," while others might simply tag the fics or note why they liked them.

Additionally, AO3 allows users to "secretly" bookmark fics. These private bookmarks are only visible to the user who created them and do not appear on their public bookmark list. I personally use private bookmarks as a TBR list for fics I plan to read but am not ready to recommend yet.

As an author, you can see the total count of both private and public bookmarks (though you can’t read/know who left the private ones). This is why, for instance, my public bookmark count on castles is 279, while the combined private and public count is 417.

From my observations, about 40% of all bookmarks on fics are private. This holds true even for castles. I know that for long works, lots of people assume that the "secret" bookmarks are people bookmarking "TBR when finished" but the numbers seem to suggest otherwise. Castles does not have a disproportionately high number of private bookmarks compared to my other fics. It seems that private bookmarks are in fact just generally used as TBRs (long works or not) or by people who prefer to leave more "honest" personal reviews without the author seeing them, which is perfectly fair.

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MY TOP FICS, AND WHAT THEY CAN TEACH US

Top 5 FFN (by favourites):

This is last year’s screenshot. For this year, you’re going to have to take my word for it because the filter no longer works (thanks ffnet lol). 

As of 29 June 2024, the top includes the same fics, but in a different order: (1) Castles, (2) Cannonballs, (3) Slipped, (4) The Things That Will Likes, (5) Before. 

It's interesting to me that slipped has come up two places and I've only had one extra review for it in the past 18 months.

Top 5 AO3 (by kudos):

Interestingly, no changes in the top 5 between January 2023 and now, bar from the fact that the gap between castles has widened. 

Thoughts: I was re-reading my thoughts from last year, I’m just going to copy and paste here because everything more or less tracks. 

Slipped is now on par on both sites but I think everything else tracks.

A couple things to note: 

Interestingly, while it has a similar number of hits (21.5k on AO3 and 20.4k on FFN), castles does a lot better on AO3 than on FFN (...)

In the past 18 months, the difference between hits on AO3 and FFN has widened. I’m now close to 50,000 hits on AO3, but am only at 33,000 views on FFN. I do think this shows an overall decline in usage of FFN as a platform. 

However, I did find out something recently, that is sort of worth noting. I’m not sure what you make of it but if you search for: Harry/Ginny, canon compliant, post-war fics excluding fluff (if you’ve read castles, this selection will make sense), castles is the 4th most kudo-ed fic in the list. If you search for all of these, minus the Hinny pairing, it is on the second page (so’s the wolf’s just a puppy). That is including finished, and unfinished works, which is wild.

Castles is now respectively 3rd and 15th in these searches (so on the first page for both), which is even wilder to me. On the second search, I’m on the same page as a fic by senlinyu!! lmao. 

I'm not addressing anything else I said aside from the fact that as I'm now approaching 50,000 hits, those numbers are even more mental.

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NOW, ONTO THE HOMEMADE GOOGLE SHEET

(for more details on how it is created, see here - scroll down to the same section. having said that, do note that this is all based on kudos. i do not get notifications for bookmarks, subs, etc. so that would be much more difficult to track. thus, for the purposes of these graphs, i'm only relying on kudos to know if my fics are doing "well" or not. i, of course, get a lot of joy from comments and they are what i most cherish, but my email notifications are turned off on those, for reasons that i can explain if you are curious (if so, just send me an ask). as such, i can't track them as easily. also i’m more interested in the content of my comments than in their number. kudos are a good general indicator, though very imperfect.)

AVAILABLE GRAPHS AND THOUGHTS

1. CONSISTENTLY, CASTLES ACCOUNTS FOR ABOUT A THIRD OF HOW PEOPLE FIND ME

[the methodology is explained in more detail in the original post but for the purposes of this: "new" readers means all total kudos left that year, minus guest kudos and "repeat" kudos (i.e. people who have already kudoed at least one of my other fics in the past)]

This is so interesting given it’s the opposite conclusion from the one I’d drawn in 2023 (see here). It turns out that 2022 was an outlier. Having said that, I do think it’s interesting to note that since January 2023, I’ve not posted any major other fics that were not castles. I’ve posted some smaller one shots but generally speaking, my last major one-shot was probably louisville. so, this may be why castles is still accounting for this many first kudos. It will be interesting to see what these graphs look like next year, when I’m no longer posting new chapters. 

2. DO PEOPLE REALLY FIND YOU OFF THE FRONT PAGE?

That was the conclusion I’d drawn last year, but looking at 2023, I’m now not too sure. For the record, I posted castles in May, July, October and November. I also posted smaller one shots in January, July and August. The assumption there is that if people find you off the front page, then you should get an influx of new reader kudos when you post.

It's evident that the months I posted new content had higher engagement than the months I didn’t. However, the spike in November is particularly striking. The only explanation I can find is that I posted chapter 19 of castles in November (a.k.a the 9/11/"barn" chapter). This chapter had the highest engagement by far, possibly tied with chapter 22 based on my current inbox feedback, but we'll see how that pans out.

The way I'm interpreting this is that in the wake of 19 being so well-received, people who had been reading castles silently for a while finally left kudos for the first time, counting as "new" readers, even though they technically weren't. So, maybe, the new conclusion to draw here is that angst serves me? I know that fluff does better in the Hinny fandom overall but my readers probably follow me for the angst and so when a particularly angsty chapter comes out, they’re more excited about it and kudo more? Again, I’m just guessing. 

3. FICS STABILISE AFTER THE FIRST YEAR

It's fascinating to observe this trend over the span of four years. Looking at my flagship one-shots like slipped, the wolf, the fault, watch and lousville, a recurring pattern emerges: each initially garners a significant portion of kudos in its first year (typically 12% or more), then stabilises to 7-10% in subsequent years. I'm particularly curious to see if castles will follow a similar trajectory after it's completed.

[total number of kudos per fic, all kudos included]

Also, building on last year's third observation (“bad fics don’t do well, regardless of how shippy or fluffy they are”), I think what’s interesting to me here is that the opposite is true: fics like louisville (Harry/OC) and the fault (Deamus) which have very unpopular ships still do extremely well on their own and seem to attract readers. This is however not a phenomenon you see with my oldest non-hinny fic ce ne sont que des cailloux (Bill/Fleur). The way I explain this is two-fold:

I think the French title might hurt ce ne sont que des cailloux. Maybe casual readers think it’s in French? 

ce ne sont que des cailloux is the first non-hinny fic I posted, and it was also posted in January 2021, at a time where my readership was very limited compared to now. This goes to my earlier point about readership. Now that I have one, I reckon that if I re-posted ce ne sont que des cailloux, it would get a lot more kudos from my followers. At the time, I was relatively new in fandom, and thus no one read that fic. It never ended on rec lists, etc., and to this day, is still hindered by this initial slower start.

Having said that, generally speaking, I still think the fics that are doing the best are my best ones. I think audiences are (generally) right (at least on my level). There are definitely fics where I don't really understand why they're doing so well. I talk about watch below. spring rolls is another one that I find a bit meh and where I'm not sure why it's holding 8% of the pie. But there aren't any fics where I'm majorly like "ugh, I wish this was getting more attention." Apart from ce ne sont que des cailloux, maybe.

4. DO LONG FICS REALLY ATTRACT A LOT OF GUESTS?

That was my conclusion based on 2022 numbers, showing a massive discrepancy between the number of guests+repeat kudos and the number of new kudos in castles. However, this seems to be another case of 2022 being an outlier. If you look at the figures for 2023, that is no longer the case.

However, I do think it’s interesting that the fault in faulty manufacturing still seems to be a fic that brings me a lot of new readers, compared to the total of kudos it brings me. All the other fics seem somewhat similar, bar from the fault that has a two point difference. I wonder if this is because part of the drive for this fic is the slash end of the fandom which may find me from this particular fic because it’s my only slash one? 

5. DOES SHIP MATTER? 

I think the one conclusion I’m drawing, looking at these pie charts year on year, is that yes, ship matters… to a point. I think when you look at one-shots like slipped and the wolf (and, to an extent, watch), as well as castles, they have undeniably greatly contributed to my relative popularity. Lots of people found me because they ship Hinny, and I write Hinny, simple as that. And following, I also think that if wrote an even more popular ship (say: Dramione or Drarry), my kudo counts would certainly be higher.

Having said that, the reason I’m saying it only matters to a point is that what I’m seeing with more recent non-Hinny work (the fault and louisville) is that these get read regardless. Why? Humbly, because I think people like my writing and are willing to branch out of their favourite ship to read my other works. The more pre-existing readership you have, the less the ship you’re writing matters. If someone like senlinyu or MissKingBean69 were to write Bill/Fleur, with the pre-built audience they already have, I would venture that would become the most popular Bill/Fleur fic in fandom in no time.

Lastly, I think one interesting thing I’m noticing for 2024 is that for the first time ever, the wolf (which has been my flagship Hinny one-shot since it was first posted) is doing “worse” than slipped and other non-Hinny one-shots. I find this very interesting given that the wolf was such a driver for so long. I wonder if this is because the fic has generally reached everyone it was meant to reach and is now plateau-ing, or if it’s something else? I’m interested to see what this is going to look like for the rest of 2024. 

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LASTLY, SOME NEW GRAPHS

GENERAL GROWTH

These graph tracks my general kudo growth, all fics included, between January 2021 and May 2024. The second one is aggregate.

As you can see on the first graph, you can pretty much track when I posted and when I didn’t, following the line up and down. My three biggest peaks were: May/June 2021 (which I already addressed here), August 2023 and November 2023. 

August 2023 is a mystery to me. I didn’t post castles. The only thing I did post was spring rolls, which is a tiny 800-word fic that I genuinely don’t think should be this popular lol. Is it simply because over the summer, people have more time to read? 

November 2023, was chapter 19 of castles, which, again, did incredibly well. It interestingly doesn’t even compare to the peak I got in February 2024 where I posted two chapters of castles, and still didn’t get anywhere close. So, again, angst drives my readership. 

What I think is interesting on the second graph is that we’re pretty much in a straight line here. Caveating that this starts at zero because that’s when I started tracking, it’s not actually when I started posting so I had pre-existing kudos. But yeah, it took me 16 months to hit my first 1,000 kudos, then 14 months to hit 2,000+ and presumably another 12/13 months to hit 3,000.

CASTLES GROWTH

Interestingly, per this graph, the growth of castles is also steady overall. It’s not as steady as the general one but I typically tend to hit 200 kudos every 10/11 months. I will say that if you look closely, you’ll notice that in the last year (May 2023 to May 2024), the growth is a little bit steeper at times, but did flatten towards the end (Feb to June 2024 - when I didn’t post) which means that generally, we’re only at +266 kudos. That’s still more than 200, but not that much more. 

I think what’s interesting is that this doesn’t seem to track with my overall, anecdotal impression of my readership, which I feel has been constant in terms of numbers since 2021, if not declining a little. I generally feel I’m getting less interactions with readers since, I would say, the summer of 2022. So I think what this shows isn’t that my readership is growing, it’s that it’s perpetually replacing itself. My sense is that people will typically read up to the most recent chapter, stay involved with the fic for maybe six months to a year, then drop off, and be replaced by new readers. I don’t think this is bad, I think it’s the natural laws of fandom. I also think there was an abnormal spike in engagement around the pandemic where people had nothing to do but go online and read fic. As a writer, it can be hard not to attribute people dropping off to your own failings (my writing quality has decreased, my chapters are too long - whatever it may be), when in fact, the turnover is generally pretty consistent. 

When comparing the lines of overall kudos, I think this confirms that generally speaking, castles is the main driver of my kudo influx.

Bar a few exceptions, the two track. It’s clearly not the only driver because there is a pretty sizeable difference between line levels, but it is the main one. This is especially clear since October 2023, which is a period of time in which I’ve not been posting anything else. 

OTHER TOP 5 FIC GROWTH

Regarding the wolf (above), this confirms what I was saying previously: this fic is currently flatlining hard. It took me: two months to hit 100 kudos, seven months to hit 200, eight months to hit 300, and thirteen months to hit 400. I’m not upset by it, I feel like this fic has done its time and it’s probably past its prime (lol) but that’s interesting. It used to be so popular and my main driver of kudos aside from castles, and it’s definitely not anymore.

In terms of the other fics, you're going to have to believe my word because tumblr is preventing me from adding more screenshots to this post (sigh) but the trend is the same, though the flatlining is less pronounced.

When it comes to slipped, like the wolf, it also seems to be growing slower since the end of 2022, albeit less dramatically. It took five months to hit 100 kudos, twelve months to hit 200, and eighteen months to hit 300. I’ve always thought the difference in popularity between slipped and the wolf (which were more or less posted at the same time) was down to the wolf being posted as part of a fest, which wasn’t the case for slipped. But it could also be that the wolf is just a better written fic (in my opinion, at least). The fault follows a similar trend, on a different scale. It took me six months to get 100 kudos, then eighteen months to get to 200.

Interestingly, watch, however, seems to have had a steady-ish growth since its six months anniversary. The flatlining is less pronounced than for the others. I’m honestly not sure why. It’s a fic that I never in a million years expected to be in the top five, I was very surprised it did well at all. I like the style of it but it’s very much what in the TV-show fanfic realm we’d call an “episode tag”, meaning a short fic that explores a scene from a different angle/POV. I don’t think it really brings anything new to canon, and I don’t think it’s particularly novel. I’d be curious to see if it stays in the top five in the long run to be honest.

When comparing the lines of overall kudos to each of the individual fics (again, trust my word), they don't seem to correlate as much as castles does. Bar from watch, they all caused a spike at the time of publication, but then each have tiny odd peaks that don't reflect in the overall graph. They also don't really have other big peaks, just sort of hover between 5 and 15 kudos/month throughout. I would assume that whilst the numbers may be different, this is probably the same trend you see in most finished long fics.

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CONCLUSION

I can't believe you got to the end of this. Please let me know if you found it interesting/have questions!

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Hello all!

So, someone sent me an ask about that "Writer truth or dare" (link to the post) and I decided to do them all like I said I would in the tags, ha. I will also answer their question directly, but I mostly just wanted to do this for fun. :-)

Answers under a read more to preserve your dashboards. :-)

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats

User Subscriptions: 128 Kudos: 10,934 Comment Threads: 1,855 Bookmarks: 3,138 Subscriptions: 1,565 Word Count: 2,133,056 Hits: 291,461

This is over 28 fics, written over the span of about 10 years, since my first published AO3 work was done in 2014 when I was 16.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I honestly don’t quite remember? I know that I had an idea for a Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley fic while at lunch in like… 7th grade and I wrote about a chapter of it in my art notebook, but as for why or what got me to know what fanfic is, I honestly don’t remember.

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

I… don’t really have one? I mean, I tend to listen to my songs on one big playlist on iTunes or on YouTube, with maybe a couple of specific ones, but nothing that major. As such, I’ll just link the playlist I made for TPWP.

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

7-8 depending on the fic. If I like the chapter and it’s mostly just fine tuning that I’m doing, I like it quite a lot. But if it’s a “ugh this chapter/paragraph/sentence is awful and I don’t know how to fix it and I hate it ahhhhh” kinda thing, then I don’t like it quite as much, ha. But it is satisfying to finally realize how to fix a problem I had with a chapter, so it can be rewarding too. Thus… 7-8.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

😍🥰🙊❤️‍🩹🏳️‍🌈

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

Well, first of all if I accidentally killed someone, I likely would just turn myself in because lying would help nothing and would just make me super stressed. Second of all, I wouldn’t text a mutual, I would text my brother or my dad, ha.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

This one is hard, because I love a lot of fanfics and authors. So, I’m just going to pass, oof.

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

35 exactly. The same number of unread emails I have had since I was 13. Why? Because I am so used to seeing a red “35” next to my gmail account on my phone or in gmail itself, and anytime I try and get rid of those emails, I get anxious and mark them as unread again. So, technically speaking, I have 0 unread emails, since to me 36 emails would indicate that I have an unread email. Yes, I am neurotic about this kind of thing, no I don’t really care.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

I don’t like tagging people… it always makes me feel awkward and anxious, so I’m gonna skip this one too. :-/

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

Original characters. I dislike reader inserts. They feel… weird to me. No shame on people who like them! Just… not for me.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Uhhhh…… I mean, I don’t really know what I have and haven’t posted here before? I’m usually a fairly open person. Well, I guess I can share this, since I don’t think I’ve actually ever shared this here yet, even though I’ve been planning it for almost a year now… no idea if it technically counts as “lore,” but it’s something, ha. Anyway, next month my older brother and I are going to Japan! We’re going to be there for 2 weeks and are going to 3 different cities. I’m hoping to possibly find some Danganronpa things, though I know it’s not super mainstream anymore. Here’s hoping!

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

Lack of motivation or energy. Just because I have time doesn’t mean I have the will.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

This one is tricky, because I don’t tend to follow people back often? Not for any reason, just it’s not something I do often. Usually, if someone asks or if they mention in tags following me for a while I’ll check their blog out and follow if I think their stuff aligns with my interests. But otherwise… not much I guess?

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I’m going to Japan next month with my brother.

I passed my final exam that I was positive I failed, so now I’ll be able to graduate (as soon as I figure out the requirements…)

I no longer have to wake up early to do an annoying internship I didn’t like much. :-)

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

It was a response to a mutual asking a question, since it got pretty long and writing in the Tumblr app can be iffy at times.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Nope. :-)

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don’t tend to research weird things for my fics. I did look up all parts of a ship once, since I wrote a pirate AU a long time ago and was like “shoot… what’s this part of the ship actually called???” Not weird, but definitely interesting.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

If there is nothing you can do in a situation, good or bad, then it’s okay to just ignore it and move on if you can. I use this advice whenever there are big global issues that I personally can’t do anything to help. Why spend my time and energy getting needlessly angry over things I can’t change, when I could focus that energy on the things I can, you know? The way that I can change the world is by helping children and encouraging them to grow. That is my life’s goal and my biggest desire in life. I’d rather spend my time and energy on getting my degree, and then later getting a job as a school counselor. I’m not good with anger. I don’t like being angry. So… I just ignore it as best I can. Like, I’ll be informed on what is happening, but I don’t get angry or obsess over it, you know? And it doesn’t make me a bad person, and if anyone thinks it does, then I legit don’t care. It’s my life, and I know how obsessive I can get over things, and I don’t want to ruin my life over things I can’t change. I don’t have the temperament to be an activist. I’m too mild emotionally speaking. So… yeah. I hope that makes sense, ha.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I either have already written my dream themes/plots, or I’ve thought about them in enough detail to know exactly how they’ll go, which is good enough for me. And I personally think that I would write it best. I know my own tastes and I would rather write something myself than ask it of something else, you know?

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Just give it time. Don’t force it. If you force it, your work will not be your best, which will frustrate you more and add to the writer’s block. For me, inspiration and desire to write comes in waves. Some weeks/months I’m super creative and write a ton (I’ve written two 375k+ fics in a month and a half each, for example). Other weeks/months it feels like every word I write is like pulling teeth. If I try and force myself to write during the latter times, then I get frustrated and it leads me to hate writing, which leads to those times lasting longer. Every time I’ve waited it out, however, I am able to come back to writing fresh and wanting to write. So… just wait. Have patience. Unless you’re a professional writer with a professional deadline, you don’t have to rush it.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

Can’t think of one on the top of my head.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I like all comments, but my favorite are the long ones where people point out things that I wrote in chapter they liked, they theorize where things will go next, or they ask questions. Honestly, I love it when people ask questions, since I love rambling about my work, ha.  

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

No. :-)

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?

I mean, it depends on what you mean by “lie” and by “a lot.” Because I will tell white lies or half-truths on occasion. Less now than when I was younger, but if it will get me out of trouble or if it will smooth things over, I will tell white lies. Big lies I don’t tend to do, though. It’s only things that don’t really matter one way or the other but make my life easier. Otherwise, I am fairly honest and I prefer honesty. I’ve found that people are much more likely to be forgiving if you’re like “yeah, I messed up, I’m genuinely sorry.”

This all being said, I did tell a huge, very elaborate lie to the children at work recently, ha. Basically, I went to Ireland in 2019, and when I started working at my current after school site, I mentioned to a kid offhanded that I met a leprechaun there and became friends with him. I meant it as like... a joke, you know? But the kid fully believed me and was so excited. She asked if the leprechaun would come visit for St. Patrick’s day, and I was like “uhhhhh yeah?” So, from then on, I have had to not only keep up this lie but expand it. Last year my “leprechaun friend” got married. This year, he had twins. I communicate with my leprechaun friend via letters that I translate (badly, I tell the kids) into Irish, and he replies with letters written in “ancient Irish.” The kids absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea if they all believe me, but even the fourth and fifth graders are super into it, and even if they don’t believe me, they don’t let it show.

Last year I had the children write my leprechaun friend letters, which they (badly. VERY BADLY) translated into Irish and wrote on a paper, which my “leprechaun friend” had to painstakingly translate and then write a response to over 7 different children. Then “he” had to make the paper looks old and worn, since it would be suspicious if a thousands year old creature wrote on crisp white printer paper. It was. Not fun. So, my “leprechaun friend” refused to write them letters this year, since a student last year (no, of course I don’t know who, and even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you, stop being so nosy child) showed their letter to someone they weren’t supposed to and my “leprechaun friend” was unhappy, since “he” specifically told me to tell them not to do this.

Yeah. It’s, uh. It’s getting a bit much. Every time a kid asks a new question, I have to quickly come up with a lie. And I’m like… a good liar, right? But dang is it a lot. 😅(Also I don’t feel too bad about lying, since it’s less lying and more making believe, you know? And I hope that when the kids look back, they won’t think “oh my god my after school teacher lied to me for years!!!” and they will think “Oh wow. My after school teacher spent so much time and effort creating an elaborate story for us because she genuinely cared about us.” Or something like that, ha.)

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

Nothing really? Not anything bad or major, at least. I mean, I’ve been thinking about the end of my grad program a lot, but not in a bad way.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

I mean… yeah? Lots of media? That’s what fanfic is, it’s writing inspired by various media. If you mean, like… writing style, then no. I just write how I think (as shown above with my leprechaun friend rant, ha). It’s why my work has a lot of ellipses and introspection and random details that aren’t really important, but add to the vibe of the scene, you know?

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I’m a bit weak when it comes to plot. Like, anything more advanced than “character A likes character B but is all conflicted over it” is a struggle for me. The few fics I wrote that actually have plot always go off the rails at some point, since I always go too big and get stuck. It’s one reason why all my fics are very same-y and follow similar troupes. But honestly? I don’t really care. I like writing similar fics with different environments with simple plots. I much prefer exploring the characters and their motivations and their emotions than focusing on plot.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

Depends on the surprise.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Ha, I did this last night when I first saw this post, here you go:

“That makes it easy to ignore them and just enjoy everything else.

Once the group exits the elevator, they collectively pause for a moment, taking in the sight before them. And, honestly, Mondo gets it. He’s never been one for fancy as fuck surroundings, preferring simple shit and small luxuries over anything stupidly elaborate. But this…? He’s gotta admit. /This/ is fucking nice.”

Have fun trying to figure out the context of this. :-)

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

When I was, like… thirteen or fourteen I created a Facebook page for A Very Potter Musical/Sequel, entitled Red Vines, What the Hell Can’t They Do? (A quote from one of the Potter musicals). Since I was a Draco fan, my “Admin name” was ~Draco. But once I added more admins to help me run the page, I decided to make my own Admin page, since that was very popular back in the day. I didn’t want to just be ~Draco, though. Honestly, I don’t know if I was allowed to be, since it’s not exactly a unique page name. So, I changed it to Draco the Death Eater. A couple weeks or so later I saw a Draco themed cupcake and though “!!! I WANNA BE A CUPCAKE!!!” since I was like. Twelve. And overly excitable.

I thought “Draco the Cupcake” looked weird though, so I added back the Death Eater element and settled on “Draco the Death Eating Cupcake.” Then I began using my Admin page a lot more and got over 200 likes, which back then meant you couldn’t change your page name again, so I was kinda stuck as “Draco the Death Eating Cupcake.” I didn’t mind though. I kinda liked the name. Ever since, it’s been kinda my thing, using it over various websites and whatnot. It’s “my brand” I guess you could say. Even though I’m very anti J.K. Rowling, I do harbor some nostalgic affection for Harry Potter, and I refuse to let her steal something I’ve built for myself over the past decade and a half, you know?

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

Ah, this is another one I don’t really want to do. Like I said earlier, I don’t like tagging people in general, but I also don’t like singling out “biggest supporters” for the same reason I don’t like having “favorite” people. It just feels icky to me, you know? Because everyone who supports me, no matter how small, means so, so much to me. You could be here every single day, following me and screaming my praises, or you could give me a single “I like your work!” and it means the world to me. And that’s not to downplay the more vocal supporters! You all know who you are, and I hope you know how very honored I am to have your support. I don’t like singling people out, though, since A) it’s sometimes awkward for the person who is begin singled out and B) it might make other supporters who I either didn’t mention or forgot to mention or who aren’t quite as big feel bad, which I don’t want to do. It’s the same thing I say whenever the kids at work ask me who my favorite is. I always reply “no one. I don’t have a favorite student since I like you all in different ways. Yes, even the more challenging ones.”

That all being said… to everyone who has ever supported me, big or small, I really do appreciate you so, so much. When I started writing at 13, I was so incredibly critical of my work, and a lot of the comments I got back then were “con crit” that just made me feel worse, even if it was genuinely constructive. I struggled with “show, don’t tell” a lot and it frustrated the hell out of me because I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. Even now, when I am so much better at writing and don’t feel ashamed admitting that, I still feel that anxiety of not being good enough. Of not knowing enough. So, to have people not only enjoy my work, but be so supportive? It genuinely means the world to me. So… thank you.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Yep! I have two little fluff buckets, Rosie and Addle (Adelaide for long). They are guinea pigs and they are very cute and very dumb. :-)

The first two I took today, the other three on previous days. It's them chilling in their hay box we give them, ha. They love climbing in their and kicking the other one out. They... don't like each other much. They don't fight, but they also don't really interact except to try and steal the other's food (which is what's happening in the top photo, ha). Addle is the brown-ish, black, and white colored one, while Rosie is the black and white one. Rosie is five and Addle is three. Rosie used to have an original cage mate, Sara, but she sadly passed after a quick illness that started on Thanksgiving in 2021, since we couldn't get her to a vet thanks to the holiday. It was very sad and I still miss Sars. :-( She was such a little sweetie.

For reference, Sara:

RIP little girl... :-(

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Ehhhh I’m too tired to go looking for fanart I like, so I say no for now.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

If it’s first person POV. I don’t know why, but first person POV in fanfiction always bothers me, and only in very rare instances have I read first person POV fics. More often than not I immediately back out and move on. Again, no shame to people who like first person, but it’s just never been my cup of tea.

[l13bg0tt]

@ronald-speirs tag game

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

Ooooh probably somewhere in the Kananaskis region, maybe Barrier Lake. That's where my mom and I like to go paddleboarding 🫶🏻

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

I think I'll have to say how much I got my act together school-wise this year. Last school year I really struggled mentally, I was very close to dropping out. I was dealing with throwing up from my anxiety almost every day.

My favourite professor actually just recommended me for grad school which I am very proud of! (i had his class this school year lol) It has made me change up my life plans for the next couple of years but I am honoured that he thinks highly of me, so I must do it... Nothing feels as good as academic validation 😭

Favorite books?

The Long Walk by Richard Bachman (Stephen King's pseudonym) and With The Old Breed by Eugene Sledge <3

Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

this is hard lol the first thing that came to mind after daydreaming about being w my special girl was piglets

Favorite thing about your culture?

Yikes... hockey..? wait no, not rn... Terry Fox perhaps?

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

Joined the fandom this year! First show was Band of Brothers.

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

So far I have only read Sledge and the start of Leckie's!! My mom got me Webster's for my birthday and it only recently came in the mail, so I'll be starting that this weekend.

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

how dare you ask me this. i suppose luz... i love him in the background of every scene but the major scenes that come to mind are "got a penny" duh, "ooooklahoma" and the way he be looking in episode 8

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

I make historical war content on tiktok (huge hiatus while I attempt to get my degree lol) @506thpir and might bring some of it over here

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

ugh it used to be Woody Harrelson until he pulled some conspiracy theorist BS so I suppose Miles Teller in Whiplash (or the Spectacular Now lol)

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

Unfortunately I'm not like that... I don't have one. I can actually only remember "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." - Wayne Gretzky 🤣 (no NOT Michael Scott)

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

Ich habe in der High Schule Deutsch gelernt und spreche immer noch ein bisschen. Ich versuche Spanisch für meinen Liebling zu lernen 🙈

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

omg we are nowhere near ready but if that day comes i will let you know

Three things that make you smile?

animals

my silly lil crush

people wearing cool outfits

Any nicknames you like?

cammy

List some people you love to see around on tumblr!

@liptonwashere @executethyself35 @mutantmanifesto @footprintsinthesxnd @ronald-speirs @malarkgirlypop @land-sh @cody-helix02 and soooo many more I forgot to edit this part before publishing the draft 😭

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

Everything I could to keep my loved ones safe lol sorry boring

Favorite movie?

I'll just go with She's the Man for the sake of brevity

Do you like horror movies?

yuh but i really prefer it when they're actually decent

[quelsentiment]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Thanks so much to @haztobegood for tagging me :))

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 12

2. Word count posted for the year: 107,847

3. Fandoms I wrote for:  One Direction, Shaw Mendes, Video Blogging RPF (Dream and co.)

4. Pairings: OT5, Niall/Zayn, Niall/Harry, Niall/Louis, Niall/Liam, Niall/Shawn (so many Niall pairings wtf), Zayn/Liam, Zayn/Louis, Zayn/Harry, Liam/Louis, Dream/Georgenotfound

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: In the midst of a storm

Bookmarks: In the midst of a storm

Comments: In the midst of a storm

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

I feel like I have to answer In the midst of a storm. Writing this fic was extremely frustrating at times because I had this amazing picture of it in my head but I felt like I could never do it justice due to lack of time, energy, and stability. I pushed myself through it and managed to finish it, though, and honestly some comments I got on it made me look at it in a much more positive light! Hopefully I’ll be able to read it back one day without cringing too much lol

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

Probably As long as you’re not afraid to feel. Not that I think it’s bad or anything, but I feel like you can tell by reading it that I wasn’t really into it. It’s one of these fics whose idea I came up with early on, but only started working on it months afterwards due to other commitments, and by then I’d kind of lost my initial interest in it :/ I do think it’s a pretty fun one, but it could have been much better if I’d worked on it as soon as I started brainstorming it

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

As I said, some of the reviews on In the midst of a storm really warmed my heart and kinda made me change my opinion on it! Shoutout to @lululawrence‘s lovely comments especially 😊

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Ugh, the entire year until September, basically. 2022 has been a very stessful year for me, and despite wanting to make writing a priority, it definitely felt like I’d lost my mojo at times. I only started to pull myself out of it once I 1. moved back to Canada and 2. got into the Dream fandom - I probably just needed a change after 3 years of focusing exclusively on 1d, I guess

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

I wrote a few smut-adjacent scenes for It the midst of a storm that did surprise me, or at least were a new experience for me lol

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From Running From The Sun

 “I don’t. I don’t want you,” Niall protests, but it sounds half-hearted at best. Louis almost has her in a chokehold now, and it’s time for her to land the final blow.

 “Yes, you do. You think I haven’t seen the way you were looking at me earlier, while you were dancing with that guy? You think I can’t hear your heart beat faster whenever I get a little too close?” She punctuates her words by taking the last step that separates her and Niall, and now she’s got the slayer right in front of her again. Right where she wants her. “Hell, you think I don’t notice the blood rushing to your cheeks right now?” she adds in a mere whisper. “You think-”

 “Shut up,” Niall hisses out. Louis can see her swallow, and she knows she’s got her now.

 “Make me,” she dares her.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

It’s probably gonna sound dramatic but, for the major part of the year, I’ve felt like I was regressing as a writer. I’d constantly be second-guessing everything I wrote down, including stuff that I never had a problem with before (like dialogues). It’s been pretty exhausting, but in the end I guess it did make me grow, in that it made me more aware of my strengths and weaknesses.

A more practical answer would be that I wrote for new pairings and fandoms, and as mentioned before I even wrote some more explicit scenes, which is something I never thought I’d be able to do, much less to share 😳

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

Continue posting for the Dream fandom. I’m currently working on a longer fic for it that I’m really excited about!

Otherwise I’d like to get back into writing everyday, and like Jinny said, try to edit less while writing even though that habit is so ingrained in me that it might prove to be difficult.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

Oh god... My introvert tendencies came back in full force this year, and I ended up taking a big step away from the 1d writing community, unfortunately. Maybe that’s something that I’ll try to change next year too, because I do miss these interactions!

I do want to thank @zou-i-am, though - we had a great time running the Lilo Fest together! Thanks so much to @uhoh-but-yeah-alright too for betaing my Zarry fic :) And of course, much love to Sof if they see this <3

Finally, maaaaany thanks to @allwaswell16 for all the work she puts in to post fic recs and leave thoughtful comments! You’re a legend :))

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Weirdly enough, I wanna say it’s the opposite. In both New York Kiss and In the midst of a storm, Zayn works a retail job, and that’s something I ended up doing for the first time over the summer. Life imitating art and all that 😌

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Who am I to impart wisdom? lol I guess just... don’t give up. If you’re feeling like you’re losing your inspiration, give yourself some time and/or try something else (like a new pairing or something). Follow whatever excites you in a given moment, even if it means putting other projects on hold.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’m excited to keep writing my current Dreamnotfound fic. Also looking forward to running the Zouis Fest again, and to starting writing my fic for it (even though I have no clue what it’ll be yet)

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I’m sure a lot of people have done this already 😬 Maybe @zou-i-am @feeisamarshmallow @zanniscaramouche @uhoh-but-yeah-alright ?

[vacantgodling]

2022 Year in Review Tag!

thanks so much @magic-is-something-we-create i feel like this year has been a huge jumble ngl but let’s be positive about it lol :’)

also this is just a general list not top 5 cuz i didn’t do much this year

5 movies i watched

in terms of new movies:

american psycho — i actually enjoyed this movie a lot but it’s genuinely bc this movie is much funnier than i thought it would be. all deeper meanings and commentary aside patrick bateman is a fucking specimen

kwaidan — obsessed with this movie ngl. the first three segments are top tier (kurokami, yukionna & HOICHI THE EARLESS ESPECIALLY IF YOU WATCH NO OTHER PART PLEASE WATCH THIS ONE I CANNOT PRAISE IT ENOUGH). however the last one was super lackluster in comparison to the other three. tbh i feel like if the last one was the first one it would be a really good progression from okay to the best bc you really can’t follow hoichi the earless with anything imo.

tales from crypt (1972) — watched a lot of old horror this year (bc my partner is a horror movie buff and has been getting me into them for awhile now lolol) but this movie was a lot of fun! i want more ridiculous anthologies and movies tbh. make movies fun again tm.

jeepers creepers — never seen it before and MY GOD was screaming the whole time i was watching bc no?? we do not need to investigate you KNOW it’s a creature. all of this might’ve been avoided if y’all just minded your damn business 😔

then off the top of my head i rewatched my comfort movie sherlock holmes bc fuck iron man, rdj’s sherlock is his best role to me. i definitely wanna watch more movies next year.

5 shows i watched

ah i mostly just watched anime this year

chainsaw man — stressed. everyone is sketchy and i’m stressed

rewatch of demon slayer with my friend bc demon slayer is the only thing that matters :) finally have hulu so i can fucking watch season 2 i just haven’t gotten around to it yet 😭

way of the househusband — finally got around to watching the anime this year and just as the manga, it’s perfect

jujutsu kaisen — i love it but at what cost. also i’m a simp for nanami oof

death parade / nana — i’ve only watched the first episodes of each but nana stresses me out (lovingly) and i think death parade is fascinating i just need to make more time to watch shit lol

5 songs of 2022 (*separate from spotify wrapped*)

odo — ado -> got introduced to this song recently and just absolutely obsessed with it. it’s the song that may be sparking a change in one of my wips that i mentioned lol

devil — max changmin -> came out in january and this song owns the whole fucking year idc idc idc

go back — se so neon -> UGH THIS BAND their songs slap so hard but go back is genuinely just so good

濁 (daku) — the gazette -> this whole album. but i want this song directly injected into my veins.

better — boa -> CRACK. THERES CRACK IN THIS SONG. but boa >>>>>>

5 albums or artists of 2022

i don’t have 5 but these three specifically:

devil (the 2nd mini album) — max changmin -> this album owns my ass. cannot believe he started the year like this. how fucking dare lol.

the gazette, always my beloveds

lowlife princess: noir — bibi -> she snapped with this one. every song and mv snapped. bibi vengence & animal farm especially

5 books i read

definitely didn’t read 5 books lol didn’t have time or space mentally. however i will say i started to read bram stoker’s dracula this year, got stuck on the part about paprika, thought it was hilarious and never finished chapter 1. it’s super good from the bit i read so far, i’m just easily amused and don’t have patience 😔

5 characters from media

nanami (jjk) — feral about a man a single man

like everyone in demon slayer but tanjiro komado my fucking BELOVED 😭

hanzo (ovw) — 6 years strong obsessing over this man pff

link — i am once again pointing at my botw self insert au side blog lmaoooo

gojo / rengoku share a spot only bc i love them but ow pain :)

sorry i don’t listen to podcasts lol

and finally

5 positive things that happened in 2022 no matter how small:

got conveyor belt sushi for the first time! i wish it was closer by but maybe it’s better i’d be there every day

created a new writeblr so i could start getting more confident talking about my stories. i think it’s marginally worked! i’m working on myself still but i feel like i’ve been more open and indulgent this year

5 years with my partner!

had a pretty good birthday for the first time in years

despite the struggles working from home has done a lot for my mental health and i want to try and secure another wfh job in the future.

this is an open tag! i hope everyone had a decent year to some extent 💛

[doctorho]

Neon lights

hi babes!!!! not sure what this is but here ya go✨✨✨

Viktor x gender neutral reader, 5k words

modern no magic au, viktor is still disabled but not actively dying au, everyone is an academy student because i said so. this will be a two part story!

summary: The last exams of the season are over in the Academy, and people are celebrating. Jayce, Mel and Viktor have a victorious pub quiz team, and after your classmates stand you up, you join them. And end up spending the night sitting in Viktor's lap.

Warnings: bar scene, implied drinking/alcohol but no-one's really drunk. also i think i might have accidentally given the reader anxiety

Tags: @writingmysanity

It’ll be fun, they’d said. You have to come, they’d said. Let’s all go, they’d said. 

And then they, your stupid traitorous classmates, dared not to show up. Which you, of course, only found out after dragging your sorry ass to the bar. 

It was a statistical miracle none of them were there, really. Celebrating the end of exam season was standard custom, and usually everyone flooded to the closest bars and nightclubs, probably increasing their nightly revenue by at least 500%. 

The place was packed, as usual, but you just couldn’t find any of the people that had participated in talking you into coming. 

Maybe they’re just not here yet, your brain offers only semi-helpfully, and you only semi-believe it. The quiet unsettling anxiety of being alone in a place where everyone else had someone to talk to starts to creep up on you, and a part of you starts to regret leaving home in the first place. For a moment, you wonder if they could have done this to you on purpose, but that doesn’t make much sense, so you try to abandon that particular train of thought. 

It was loud, the floors were sticky, and your clothes were getting more uncomfortable by the minute. You could have been home reading. Watching a movie. Playing a game. Something. Something familiar, something quiet, something comfortable. 

An annoying little echo of something one of your friends – real friends, not ones that stood you up at bars – had said to you once plays out in your head. 

Doing things is good for you. 

Don’t be alone all the time. 

You sigh a little to yourself. 

Ugh, fine, you think, and then you take a deep breath, squish that creeping anxiety like an annoying bug, and walk to the bar. 

You were already there. 

You might as well try to have some fun. There was supposed to be a pub quiz later – with only topics that no-one would have to learn in school – and that seemed interesting. Maybe you could get something good to drink, find a nice corner, and try that. One person teams were allowed, if you remembered correctly. 

The bar is crowded, with everyone wanting drinks and refills and trying to hit on the bartenders, so you have to wait a while before you can order, but that’s fine. At least you have something to do. 

Leaning on the counter, you look around as you wait your turn. The place was full of students; some of whom you recognized but didn’t really know, people you had seen around but never talked to, a few you’d shared classes or lab shifts with but no longer remembered the names of. 

It makes you feel a little better that to them, you were probably just another nameless face in the crowd, just like they were to you. 

Slowly, you get used to the surroundings, the too-loud mind numbing music and soft-sticky floors, people bumping into you occasionally. It all fades into a background mush of a steady hum and droning of the bass.

When it’s finally your turn, you order something that had a strange name and a funny color, and that was definitely overpriced. But everything there was, so you try not to dwell on it. Your drink comes with a purple glow stick and turns out to be sweet, ambiguously fruity, and so good that a part of you was disappointed. 

You’d want more of those. 

Dammit. 

You tuck that thought to the back of your head – a problem for future you – and walk away from the counter, making space for other people waiting to order. You’re not sure if the whole drink is purple, or if that’s just the glow stick, but you decide that that doesn’t really matter.

Looking for a free spot away from the loudspeakers, you successfully make it to a far corner without spilling your drink or crashing into anybody, which was, in itself, a victory of sorts. 

And then you almost spill your drink anyway when someone calls your name. Loudly. 

It’s Jayce. One of the more familiar faces on campus. You’d had some classes with him, seen him around, in events and workshops and at the library. He was the kind of person that seemed to be everywhere, so really, you weren’t that surprised to see him. He could pop up at the lab, or in an office or a hallway somewhere, or a fundraiser or a gala or a competition at any given moment, smile politely and stop for some smalltalk, and then continue on his way. He was everywhere and he was friends with everybody, at least on some level, it seemed. Most often he was in the company of one of two people, though; 

Mel, who was currently sitting on his lap, 

or Viktor, who was sitting next to them, avoiding being squished between Jayce and the wall. The three of them were on a two-person couch, in one of the far corners.

You gather yourself and slip closer to them, grateful to have somewhere to go and someone to hang out with.

Mel being there didn’t surprise you. She was – not shockingly – also the type of person that seemed to be everywhere or at least have some contacts there, so her participation in social events wasn’t out of the ordinary. She was studying something in the realm of political science, you weren’t sure of the details, but you had already mentally accepted the possibility that she would probably be running for president someday. 

Viktor, however? Viktor didn’t…do this. Not that you knew, at least. You’d shared classes with him, too, and he was in the lab more often than not. You weren’t exactly sure what he did as a student and what he did as a teacher’s assistant, the line between the two seemed to be a bit hazy, and he also seemed to have some independent job working at the lab. He’d talked about it before, but you were pretty sure you still didn’t know all of it. 

He was the type of person that would just casually say I have to go tend to the porous silicon now, excuse me, and never explain what the porous silicon was for, because apparently that part was obvious.

Or, you know, he’d reveal himself as working as a teacher’s assistant only after you’d only complained to him about the poor quality the class had been organized in. 

At least he had had fun with that one.

And at least he’d agreed. 

So, when you saw him, it was usually either in the lab, in the library, or out somewhere getting coffee. Most of your interactions consisted of lab-related things, or homework, or complaining about the inconvenient and too-short hours places such as the library, the cafeteria, or the coffee shops were open.

This was not a place you expected to see him in. 

“Care to join our team?” Mel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We could use a fourth.”

Ah. 

The pub quiz. 

That made sense. 

You relax a little as you get out of the crowd properly and close enough to talk to them without having to shout. “Sure,” You say, giving them a smile, “Sounds fun.” 

Then, you lick your lips and swallow, looking over the room quickly again. “I was supposed to come here with some classmates but I think they might have stood me up.” 

Mel hums a little in response, Jayce frowns, and Viktor looks almost a little offended on your behalf. 

“Well, we’re more than happy to have you on our team.” Mel continues, “Do you happen to have any obscure areas of expertise that might be useful?”

You smile at her. “I guess we’ll have to see.” 

“Last chance to google something.” Jayce says, already looking down at his phone.

You furrow your brows, a little amused, and look at Viktor. “Do you guys usually prepare for this a lot?” You ask, “You know the winners get like, a coupon for drinks, not their weight in gold and half the kingdom?”

Viktor smiles a little. “Yes,” He answers, leaning forward slightly, “but it’s more fun if you win.” 

“Besides,” Jayce adds, still not looking up from his phone, “free drinks.” 

“And –” Viktor nods, even though Jayce can’t see him, “if we get enough of those coupons, isn’t it kind of like getting half the kingdom?”

“Oh, so you’re playing the long game then,” You smile, “going to win, what, for the next couple of decades and drink for free?”

“Give or take.” He answers, “Not sure where this place is valued at. Might take less than a decade. This isn’t exactly a high-class establishment.”

“But it is popular,” Mel interjects, sounding like she’s only half-serious, “students bring in a lot of money. Not compared to some other places, but still.”

Jayce hums in agreement, shifting a little in his place as he puts his phone away. He only needs to point towards the nearest table before Mel leans over, grabs a piece of paper that was, apparently, their answer sheet, and modifies their team to include four, not three people. 

“You should sit,” She says, as she’s writing, and for a second you just look at her. 

Where? is the obvious question your brain immediately supplies, you three barely fit there and there’s no free seats anywhere. 

Before you can ask, she looks up at you and answers. 

By gesturing towards Viktor. 

“It would make me look better if you sat on his lap, too.” Mel continues, like it’s the most reasonable thing ever, “That way I won’t stand out as much and look stupid on my own. Besides, we’ll all be close to each other that way. Easier to conspire.”

For a moment, you stare at her. 

And then you stare at Viktor, who is, slowly but steadily, turning slightly red. 

“Hang on,” Jayce says, “you think sitting on my lap makes you look stupid?”

Mel smiles and leans back against him. “Depends on the context.” Mel answers, before turning her attention back to you, and to Viktor. 

Who clears his throat. 

“I mean – if you want –” He says, and it’s exactly as much of a coherent sentence as you were expecting. It’s exactly as much of a coherent sentence as you would have been capable of in his place. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him, slightly hesitant. This was, this whole situation and where it was going, wildly uncharted waters. Yes, you were friends or – or something, you were closer to him than you were to anyone else there, but sitting in his lap was not something you had expected to happen. 

And – yes, you were not opposed to the idea, not at all, but – 

“Yes,” He answers, “don’t worry, you won’t break me.” 

“He’s tougher than he looks.” Jayce agrees, and for a second, you just let yourself feel everything around you. 

The music. The sticky floor. The aftertaste of the sugary sweet drink in your mouth. The way Viktor was looking at you. 

The moment. 

You mentally strangle the hesitant anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach, shrug softly with one shoulder, and take a few steps to stand directly in front of Viktor, your knees brushing his. Handing your drink to Mel for safekeeping, you carefully settle into his lap, barely daring to breathe, making sure not to knock over the cane that was leaning against the wall next to him. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You ask him quietly, leaning back slightly so he could hear you better, “You should tell me if I am.”

He swallows – you can feel it. “Eh, no –” He says, and his voice is so close that it surprises you, “ – you’re not. Don’t worry.” 

You exhale, slowly, and try your best to relax. 

Trying is the best you can do, though – feeling him pressed against you is causing way too many thoughts and feelings to happen for you to truly focus on anything else. He was warm, and firm, and you could feel his breathing, and you were sitting in his lap. 

You were. In his lap. 

You were not even going to let your brain go there. 

No, this was a normal, casual situation, and you were going to be cool about it. So what if you had a crush on him? So what if you could feel him pressed against your back, your ass –

“Good.” Mel says, smiling as she hands your drink back to you. You take it, carefully, trying not to move too much in case it’d make him uncomfortable. 

You were going to be cool about this. 

You came here to have fun, and that’s what you were going to do. 

“Thanks.” You tell her, giving her a smile and trying your best to act normal about the whole situation. 

“What is that?” She asks, motioning towards your drink with one hand, “It looks good.” 

“Oh.” You answer, looking down at your drink again, racking your brain for the name of it, “Something new, I think? It was called, uh, Krypton?” 

“Right, they’re doing that periodic table thing.” Jayce comments.

“Naming drinks after elements?” Mel asks, “Why?”

“Probably because a lot of nerds frequent this place.” Viktor answers, and again, his voice is so close that it’s like he’s talking directly into your ear. You can feel it, the words rumbling through his chest. 

“What’s it taste like?” Mel continues, ignoring his comment, “Krypton?”

You hum thoughtfully, and take a sip. 

“I would hope not.” Viktor answers while you’re trying to figure out what it does taste like.

“Krypton doesn’t taste like anything.” He continues, “That’d be a pretty sad drink.”

You can’t help smiling at his answer. 

“Why do you know that?” You ask, leaning closer to him again, tilting back your head slightly. 

You can’t see it, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. 

“I know a lot of things. You'd be surprised.” He says. 

Quietly. 

Just for you. 

Before you let yourself get too focused on what his voice sounds like that – close and quiet, so close – you take a breath and turn to look at Mel again. 

“I think it tastes like lemon and rose.” 

She lifts her eyebrows and nods thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to try that once we get our kingdom’s worth of free drinks.”

“Wasn’t it half a kingdom?” Jayce asks, reaching for his own drink on the table.

“I’m optimistic.” Mel answers, smiling. 

“Is krypton purple?” Jayce then continues, now, you’re assuming, to Viktor. 

He hums in answer, and you can feel it. Every slow second of his chest reverberating against your spine, you could feel it resonate in your rib cage, and then when he speaks, it’s no better. His voice is so close that it’s all you could focus on, etching the sound of it into permanent memory without even trying. 

“It glows purple,” He says, “if you run a high enough voltage electric current through it. It’s colorless, normally, but for the sake of argument I guess we can say that it’s purple, yes.”

“Huh.” Jayce answers, leaning back in his seat. 

Viktor mirrors his movement, and you can feel him shift under you. 

His hand brushes your side, and then settles by your waist, a weight so light you half think you’re imagining it.

That, inevitably, reminds your entire body of the position you were in, which was extremely close to him. and you need to focus a lot of your energy on not combusting on the spot. You had never been so close to him before – why would you have been, you were friends – and this was… a whole lot of entirely new sensations. 

He was so close. 

What was he thinking? What was he feeling?

Was it as much as you were feeling?

You were acutely aware of every single point of contact between your bodies, and you were trying not to think about it too much, but, well, that’s just impossible. He was so close, and you could still feel his every breath, feel his every word rumble through his chest, and – 

Mel says something to you, pulling your focus back to her. She’s explaining how the quiz works, what the rules are, and you try your best to listen. 

In the background, though, Jayce and Viktor are talking something about circuit boards, and you can feel his every word. And it is wonderful and heavy and almost unfair, how he’s so close and not closer. How he’s talking like this, every word brushing past your ear, and you know it’s not really what it feels like. This isn’t for you, you’re just there. 

But…he wouldn’t have agreed to this if he didn’t want you there, right? He wasn’t a person that did things he didn’t want to do. He didn’t stay in situations he didn’t like. And he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. 

He hums in response to something Jayce had said, and leans closer to you.

Closer to the table. 

“Can you hand me my drink?” He asks, voice quiet, and very close to your ear. Smooth, and gentle, and low, it goes straight to the pit of your stomach. You can feel him nod towards the table, and, presumably, the one half-full glass there.

For a single heartbeat, you just revel in that feeling. And then you let go of that and lean towards the table, putting down your own drink and grabbing what must have been his.

“Yeah,” You exhale, and hold it out to him carefully. “here.” 

His hand snakes past you, and his fingers brush yours, careful as ever as he takes the drink from you. “Thank you.” He breathes, so close you can feel his breath on your cheek, and you have to suppress a shiver. 

And then he’s back to talking about the circuit boards – something about heat resistant coating and trying to find a new way to attach some wires – and you listen. Try not to feel guilty about how much you were enjoying every second. 

They go back and forth for a moment, going through ideas, and you listen. You’re not sure what it’s about, not anything you were familiar with. Probably not course work, then.

You reach over to the table to grab your own drink again, and then settle back against him. He’s mid-sentence, saying something about mechanical stress – No, that won’t work, it will put too much stress on the wires – and you sip your drink, trying to figure out what they were talking about. They both probably knew more about engineering than you did, but you were still curious. 

“What’s the problem?” You ask, leaning back against his chest and tilting your head up, closer to him. 

He breathes out a quiet hum before explaining. 

“We want to connect two circuit boards in moving parts,” He explains, “which means it needs to be more durable than it is now. The solder keeps breaking, and the wires would get damaged in the long run.” 

You hum thoughtfully, trying to get a hold of the problem. “What have you tried so far?”

“Additional joints,” Jayce answers, and you can feel Viktor nod. 

“Heat resistant coating, it protects the wires.” Viktor adds.

“...But not the connections.” You continue the thought, nodding.

“Right.” Viktor agrees, “The components are small, the solder can’t take the stress.” 

You hum thoughtfully, thinking it through. “Right.” 

And then you lean towards Mel, and the answer sheet for the oncoming quiz. “Gimme.” You reach towards the paper, “The pen, too.”

She looks surprised, and you roll your eyes a little. “I’m going to use the blank side.” You reassure her, and slowly, she hands you the paper and the pen.

“Have you tried putting any kind of casing around the connection?” You ask, “What’s the geometry like?”

“Eh–” He starts, leaning closer to see the paper, “No. And it’s flat.” Then, he shifts a little, “Do we have space for casings?” 

That’s aimed towards Jayce, and while he thinks, you draw a tentative sketch of what you were thinking. If the soldered connections were the brittle part but the wire itself could be coated, they could build a protective casing around the connection, and let the wire go through it. 

“If we move around the components a bit,” Jayce answers, “then I think so, yeah?”

You can feel Viktor nod slowly, and he leans closer, to look at the paper over your shoulder. 

“Would something like this work?” You ask, knowing he was watching, studying it. You lean back and put down the pen, giving him a better view of what you’d drawn. 

He hums thoughtfully, and his breath hits your cheek, the low rumble of his voice feeling like it wraps itself around your spine and drips straight into your core. 

You do your best to ignore it. 

“Could work.” He says quietly, before reaching for the pen. You tug it closer for him to reach, and he takes it, and scribbles something down to the paper, too. 

“We have three wires,” He mutters, drawing three small lines inside your model of the casing. “we’d need to –” He trails off, and you assume that at this point, he’s mainly talking to himself. That’s okay by you; you just listen to his voice and watch as he draws with quick, nimble fingers. His breathing is deep and steady, and you can feel all of it.

He keeps sketching, and then exhales deeply, shifting slightly again. “That could work. We could try that.” He says, thoughtfully, lifting the paper from the table and looking at it for a moment before handing it to Jayce. “What do you think?” 

You smile, proud of yourself for potentially solving their problem, and Jayce looks over the sketch, squinting in the low lighting. 

As Viktor leans back to his original spot, you settle against him again – and his hand grips your hip, hard, holding you in place. 

“Please don’t say anything.” He whispers, quiet and breathy, directly into your ear. Closer than at any point before.

For one fast heartbeat, you’re confused. 

And then you realize what’s going on; in the new position, you’re pressed against him again.

“I can’t–” He continues through his teeth, voice still so quiet you barely make it out, and the sentence ends in a quiet, frustrated groan. "...control this, at the moment."

You can feel his breathing, now considerably less relaxed than before, and – you’re pretty sure you could even feel his heartbeat, fast and pounding against you. 

Unless that was your own. You weren’t sure.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you. 

Including what was definitely an erection. 

The realization makes heat flood through you, and with it, a few anxious knots somewhere deep inside you dissolve. 

One, he definitely wasn’t uncomfortable with you being in his lap, then, at least not in the way you’d feared, and two; you weren’t the only one feeling like this. Feeling like your skin was tingling, like you wanted to drink in every second of this and burn it to your memory, your focus honing in on every point of contact.

You glance over at Jayce and Mel – both studying the drawing now. 

Good. 

You smile a little to yourself. 

“Circuit boards, then?” You whisper, tilting your head so that you were talking only to him, “That’s what does it for you?” 

He exhales a small, slightly-strangled chuckle, and briefly drops his head on your shoulder. 

“Right.” He mutters, sarcastically. “That’s what this is about. Absolutely doesn’t have anything to do with you being in my lap.” 

He still sounds like he’s whispering through gritted teeth, and for a moment, you feel genuinely sorry for him. 

But not so sorry that it would cancel out everything else you were feeling about him.

This was the guy you’d had a crush on for – far too long. And here he was. Like this. Because of you. 

You were on uncharted waters, for sure; teetering on the edge of something. 

And you wanted to know what was on the other side. 

“Sorry.” You breathe out. 

You’re not sorry. Not really. And he knows it; you can hear it in the half groan - half sigh that he makes. 

“How am I supposed to focus on anything,” He whispers, “like this, when you’re right there?”

“Sorry.” You try again, and it’s not sincere this time, either. 

“This is torture.” 

“The good kind?”

He swallows, and his hand on your hip flexes, tightening the grip.

“The best.”

You look over to Jayce and Mel again. They’re talking about something, you can’t hear what it is, but that’s just good. It means that odds are they couldn’t have heard anything of your conversation either. 

Mel gets your attention first, asking you to go to the bathroom with her before the quiz – apparently she needs a buffer to make sure she doesn’t get caught in any conversations – and as she explains this, Viktor’s grip on your hip loosens, and he sighs quietly. 

“Sorry.” You breathe in his direction, this time more sincerely. 

In response, he lets out a long exhale, and shifts a little as you get up. 

You feel genuinely bad for him now, but at this point, there wasn’t much you could do. 

At least there was a table in front of him. 

Mel tells the boys to watch your drinks as she pulls you along. The people had moved to the tables, mostly, in anticipation of the quiz, and the bathroom wasn’t as crowded as it could have been. You don’t even need to wait in line. 

“Still no sign of your friends?” Mel asks, casually, as she’s checking her makeup in the mirror outside of the bathroom doors.

“No,” You answer, “but they’re not really my friends. Just classmates.”

She hums in answer. Then, she changes the topic, as smoothly as she does everything else. 

“How’s it going with Viktor?” She asks, and coming from her, it sounds casual. Like a totally normal question. 

You don’t know how to give her a normal answer, though. 

She glances at you, waiting. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, which is stupid, because the question doesn’t really leave much up for interpretation.

She lifts a single eyebrow. “I mean,” She says, slowly, “you two fit together like nuts and bolts, the boy has had a massive thing for you for ages, and you’re sitting in his lap.” She lists, “So, how’s it going?” 

You swallow, trying to think of something to say. 

“Good,” you start, “good, I guess?” 

That was true. It definitely wasn’t going badly. It was weird and new and you wanted to speak to him somewhere where you could be alone, but whatever this weird new thing was it definitely wasn’t bad. 

She hums again. Looks at you for a moment, before turning back to her reflection. “Good.” She echoes, “he deserves good things.” she adds, “and so do you.” 

You nod a little, not sure how to answer.

She doesn’t wait for an answer before walking out. "Come on."

Right. 

Now you just needed to go back out there, sit on his lap for the rest of the night without spontaneously combusting, and figure out where to go from there. 

That was going to be fun.

Part 2

[scorphargrove]

Bite Back ~ Billy Hargrove x fem Reader first eight chapters now on AO3 - please consider reading there because this story is a LONG one and I'm not sure if I'll be able to post every chapter here. :')

Chapter One here.

Chapter Two here.

Chapter Three-

It becomes a bit of a routine after that, spending time with Billy. Some days when you slip out the side doors to find peace on your bench, Billy is already there. Some days he’ll walk up as you listen to your music, always coughing or scuffing his shoes in the dirt to alert you of his presence.  

You think it’s nice that he tries to never sneak up on you, but you never mention it out loud. For you, it’s nice to have someone else there with you, who without his knowledge helps to chase away the shadows. After all, two people is better than one against the imaginary Demogorgon that you swear lurks around every corner. Something about him makes you feel safe, and you don’t question it, because you’re afraid to know the answer.  

For him, unbeknownst to you, it’s nice to have someone that seemingly understands his need to escape, distracts him from the fire he always feels in his blood, burning him from the inside out. Doesn’t judge him for it, doesn’t question it at all even in the moments when he fears you may feel cut by his sharp edges and run like everyone else.  

And so, the two of you smoke side by side, some days you joke and you share small smiles. Some days you brood in silence, content to not be sitting in each of your versions of darkness alone. And then you go about your days.  

 

---------------

 

On Halloween, Steve picks you up for school sporting one of those dumb red clown noses and you laugh at him, but he takes it off before you go inside because of course he does. Privately, you think he’s funnier when he’s not trying to be the King. But you understand of course, you’re all just playing pretend after all. Bright orange flyers get placed into both of your hands as soon as you enter the building and you glance up at him, towering over you like he does, with a question in your eyes. 

“You wanna go? I could pick you up.” He says as he glances at you where you’re rifling around in your locker.  

“Ugh, I knew it. I thought we were gonna do our own thing this year. You know, avoiding the population at large, getting drunk off your dad’s stash? Sound familiar? Your words, Harrington.” You don’t necessarily enjoy the parties of Hawkins, boring in their repetition, but there’s shit else to do on Halloween night. If he goes to the party, which he’s absolutely going to judging by the look he’s sending you, you know you’ll be tagging along. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Lately you’ve been so…” You raise your brows at him, daring him to continue and he holds his hands up in surrender. “You know what I’m saying! You could use a party, loosen up a bit.” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but laugh.  

“Okay, fine! But you’re designated driver. No, do not give me that look. I was DD last time.”  

He pouts a bit but finally nods, and as you glance back into your locker because you can’t find your English book anywhere and you know you put it in here yesterday, his hand shoots out at lightning speed and places the red nose on your face. “I’ll drive if you wear that!” You try to smack him as you yank it off but he evades you, heading down the hall to find Nancy with a big grin on his face. You laugh to yourself, finally yanking your English book out of your locker and slamming it closed.  

As you spin around to head to class, you catch sight of Billy down the hall, staring at you with a furrow between his brows. He has a large bandage on his arm and the sight of it makes your stomach drop, noticing more and more lately that he always seems to be hurt in some way. You think is has a lot to do with the pain he so obviously carries with him. He may think he hides it well, but you’re perceptive. You just haven’t gotten the whole picture yet, haven’t figured out his particular brand of recklessness. Maybe, you think, he’s still in the middle of his war with the same tendencies that you’ve learned to mostly overpower in yourself. 

When he catches your eye, he tilts his head to the side. Silently asking you to meet at the bench. Something in the way he’s looking at you makes you shiver, and not in a good way. You nod and he turns on his heel, heading for the side doors, and you follow a bit behind. 

When you walk up to the hidden spot, Billy’s pacing. His face isn’t its usual mask of peace in this place, but rather contorted in anger, or maybe in pain. You don’t say anything as you approach, sliding down onto the bench and taking out your pack. He plops down next to you when you hold one out to him, catching a closer look at the bandage on his arm, hiding three round and raised bumps that you can see through the thin material. They look like cigar burns and you feel your eyebrows draw close together. 

“Not gonna ask?” He questions, gesturing to his bandage, and you shake your head.  

“No. Did you want me to?” He turns and looks at you then, and you feel how you always do under those blue eyes. Like he’s trying to figure you out. Finally he shakes his head no, leaning his head back to look at the sky, and when he speaks it comes out softer. Sad.  

“This shit sucks.” You glance at him and he sighs, the sound is weary and wise and bone deep, too painful to think he’s talking about the current moment. “Everything is shit, you know? This place is shit, these people are shit. It’s like, every day there’s just more shit. And it sucks.”  

You nod, agreeing with him. “Yeah, it does.” 

He meets your eyes again, surprise flickering through like it always does when you say something he doesn’t expect. Maybe he thought you’d disagree, but why would you with what you’ve seen? With no warning, he turns his body to face yours, kicking his boots up on the seat.  

“Does it ever get better? Or do we just keep fighting and fighting until we’ve got nothing left? I mean, what’s the point of that anyway? What’s the point of trying so hard if everything is always going to be shit?” 

The words steal the air from your lungs and you don’t reply for a long moment, monsters and superpowers and Will’s pale face floating through your mind for minutes that stretch out like hours, feeling the phantom weight of an axe in your hands, trying to gather your thoughts. When you finally speak his eyes meet yours and you’re not surprised at all to see the same exhaustion you feel mirrored in his eyes.  

“I don’t know. I think it does. I think… you find the good things in all the shit, and you hold onto them as tight as you can. And maybe… if you have something to fight for, maybe that’s what makes it easier. Maybe we eventually get to a point where the good things, I don’t know, outweigh the shit. But does the shit ever go away? Fuck, I wish I knew.”  

He considers that for a moment, nodding as he thinks, and finally gives you a small smile. “Huh. You’re kind of wise. Who knew. I thought you were more the crazy, brooding, gets drunk alone in the dark kind of gal.” 

You smile back at him. “I am, obviously, but I’m wise too. I’m a very multifaceted individual.” You both laugh, and the moment before shatters, and you silently think that he’s more handsome when he’s laughing. He looks out at the trees and then back at you as he asks, “There’s a party tonight, all the little birdies are talking about it. Are you going?”  

You shrug. “I might make an appearance, if I’m forced.” 

“Let me guess… you’re too cool for Hawkins parties, but your boyfriend isn’t?” His words are mocking but kind of fond, and you roll your eyes, still smiling. “My boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, you know. Guy with the hair and the name. Harrington or whatever. I saw you guys this morning.” 

You scrunch up your nose at the idea and shake your head, “Oh god.” You gesture at yourself with one grand sweep, “Me and Harrington? He’s just a friend. Well, my best friend, really.” 

Billy’s face smooths out a bit at that, smile still in place but a confused glint in his eye when he says, “And why not? What’s wrong with you?” 

You shake your head, playing along, obvious in your joking. “Who said anything about me? He wears polos, Billy.” 

He laughs real loud at that, and those stupid butterflies come back full force. “Oh! So that’s how it is. Here I was thinking you enjoyed my sunny disposition, but you’re just hanging out with me for my style.” 

Through your giggles you instinctively reach out a hand and playfully push at his shoulder. His eyes track the movement, an expression you’ve never seen before on his face. His smile goes a little soft, those baby blues meet yours and he licks his lips. Your eyes accidentally track the movement and you feel yourself blush as he speaks. “You know, I uh, I swear it’s not usually this easy for me to ta-” 

“Y/N! Are you out here?” Steve’s voice breaks through the peaceful moment and you glance at your watch, realizing how much time has passed. You missed all of first period which means he was probably worried.  

“I gotta run. Come find me if you need me, yeah?” 

Billy nods, and you don’t miss the way his eyes follow you as you leave.  

You jog over to the field where Steve is waiting, a furrow already between his brows, and you reach up and smooth it out. “Sorry. Lost track of time.” 

“Bad day again?” He questions, glancing back over to where the bleachers hide your bench, furrow reappearing when he notices another shadow there.  

You suddenly feel like it’s important to give Billy his space right now, to not let Steve interrupt whatever bubble of peace Billy has found. Grabbing hold of his arm you pull him away. You’re not sure why, but that space feels like yours, and maybe it’s starting to feel a little like Billy’s, too. “Nah. I’m alright. Come on, we’re gonna be late for trig.”  

He scoffs and follows along, “Yeah okay, you little delinquent, I’m coming.” 

 

--------------- 

 

Later that day after school, you make your way across the parking lot to Steve’s car, catching sight of Billy’s back in the distance. It makes your stomach twist. You can’t help but wonder if he spent all day on the bench after you left. You hadn’t made it there for lunch, too busy catching up on the work you missed from first period in the library, trying not to fall too far behind before fall break. You were also playing guard while Steve talked to Nancy in one of the study rooms, making sure no one snuck up on them after they had pulled the curtains shut. He’d been sour faced when he emerged and you’d given his arm a sympathetic squeeze before heading for chemistry. 

You wait for Steve by the Beemer, pulling your sleeves over your hands to avoid the chilly air. When he finally comes strutting out of the building you send him a look and a gesture to hurry the hell up, and he laughs as he jogs over.  

“You’re impatient.” He states as he finally unlocks your door.  

“And you’re late. Where’s Wheeler?”  

He rolls his eyes at you and the sour face returns, and you cringe a little before plopping down in your seat. “She’s uh, she’s going to meet us at the party later.” 

“Stevie. Look at me.” He avoids it for a moment, pretending to adjust his mirrors for far too long, and swings his gaze to meet yours. “Nancy just needs time, okay? You’re doing your best, she’ll come to you about whatever she’s feeling when she’s ready.” When the sour look remains on his face you furrow your brows and add, “Unless that’s not all that’s bothering you?” 

He groans. “It’s just. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing. You’re upset. Spill, Harrington.” 

He taps his hands on the wheel a few times, watching the road. “It’s that guy I told you about. Hargrove. Shoved the fuck out of me today in gym, landed me on my ass and didn’t even say anything just. Kept on walking. He’s been walking around here like he owns the place, being an ass , and today after school he gave me this look, like I had. I don’t know. Personally offended him or something. I just. I have a bad feeling.” 

“Steve. Whoever this… Hargrove guy is, just ignore him. Don’t take the bait. He’s probably just… I dunno, jealous, right?” You say the words with a wag of your eyebrows and he shakes his head.  

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it, Nancy told me today that he tried to… he tried to hit the kids with his car.” 

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead, shocked and fucking angry . “What! Steve, what the fuck! Who does that?” 

“I don’t know. Hargrove, I guess! I don’t get it. Those kids, I mean sure they’re aggravating as hell, but they never bother anyone. Like I said, I have a bad fucking feeling.”  

“Yeah, okay. I get that now. What’re we supposed to do? Do I… do I tell Hop?” 

He shakes his head, “No. Apparently the kids don’t want anyone to know. Something about a friend of theirs, his sister or something? They said it was a joke. I have no idea.” 

“That’s ridiculous, you realize that right?” Your face is red with anger, you know without even glancing in the mirror, and you’re out for blood. You don’t know any Hargroves, think distantly that he must be an underclassman or something, trying to wrack your brain for a single person who would want to hurt The Party. “Joke or not, they could’ve gotten hurt.” 

He reaches over, having pulled into a random parking lot, and squeezes your arm. “Hey, hey. I see that look. You don’t need to try to deal with this on your own, okay? The dude is unhinged, Y/N.” When you don’t agree he moves his head into your line of sight, forces you to meet his eyes. “I’m serious. Whatever he’s doing we’ll take care of it. I’ll talk to him, or… I don’t know, I’ll, you know, punch him in the face if I have to.” He raises his fist in a mock punch, exaggerating a swing in your direction which you push away with a soft smile.  

“Yeah okay, King Steve, we both know how well that worked out for you last time.” He smiles at the name, the only time you see him not grimace at the stupid title being when you say it mockingly. 

“That was ONE time! One time! I could take him.” You raise a brow at him and he goes on. “There may one more thing. Something really important we need to talk about.”  

Your stomach drops again, not sure what to expect now and you fix him with a weary look. He gives you a mischievous smile and you narrow your eyes suspiciously. “What are you up to?” 

“We … are going to find you a Halloween costume.”  

Your lips curl and you turn your body in your seat, looking out of the front window and seeing that he’s parked in front of the costume shop on Main, the one that barely gets any foot traffic except for the week of Halloween. It’s overflowing with moms grabbing last minute costumes for their kids.  

“Please no. I am not taking your advice on Halloween costumes, no offense.”  

“It’ll be fun! I have great taste.” He’s smiling, all his teeth on display, as he climbs out of the car and you can’t help but follow. Only, you tell yourself, so that your best friend keeps smiling like that.  

 

--------------- 

 

Twenty minutes later the two of you stand in front of the only costume in the store left in your size, all the others having been grabbed for Tina’s stupid party.  

“Absolutely not, Steve.” 

“Oh, come on! It’s fate. I know it’s your favorite movie! No, don’t shake your head! You made me sit through it four times. If you don’t buy it, I will.” 

“Then you wear it!” You throw your arms up in exasperation, lowering your voice, eyes scanning the empty aisle to make sure you’re alone and face on fire, your best friend the only person in this world you feel comfortable showing your insecurities to so clearly. “I am not wearing that. Are you kidding me? It looks like a fucking bathing suit! Unlike you, I like being invisible, alright? There is no way I can be invisible in... that!” 

He smiles, full of mischief, grabs it off the rack and heads for the checkout, throwing over his shoulder a very final, “Exactly.” You groan, long and world-weary, and follow.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

How Do I Love Thee? | Knight!Weaver x Princess!Reader | Medieval AU | Chpt. 1

Summary:

The day has finally come. Your bodyguard, the man you've trusted with your life since the day you were born, has reached the age of retirement. Being the only child of your royal parents, the King and Queen are quite keen on keeping you safe, so naturally a new one must be selected. When the dust of the tournament settles, a champion is chosen, one far younger and stronger then the last...

In an age full of tales of handsome men in shining armor and chivalrous heroes of great courage and honor, could you be in for a forbiden love story of your own?

Tags: Slow burn

Warnings: None, except for a small fight scene involving mentions of blood

“Goodnight my Lady”, your lady in waiting bows her head politely as she exits your chambers, closing the heavy wooden doors behind her with a soft thump. Her footsteps recede off into the night down through the thick stone corridors as you lay awake in your downy bed. Two sconces glow faintly in the night, providing just enough light for you to navigate the large, dark room.

Once you’re sure you’re alone, you grab your small candle and pad across the cool stone floor to steal some light. It catches quickly and you’re off once more to your desk. You pull out your poetry books and studies to retrieve a small leather bound notebook. It contains all sorts of things like sketches and sonnets that you've penned, but most of all it’s filled with your musings of the day.

You tap your quill on the edge of the inkwell and set its point to the parchment.

Today has been a rather sad one indeed. Your old guardsman has retired from your father’s service, the very same man who’s protected you and your person since you were but a little girl. He’s much like a grandfather to you in a way, and it pains you very deeply to see him leave you. Your father has tried to comfort you with the promise that a tournament will be held the very next day to get you a new guard as soon as possible, but the absence of a knight isn’t what troubles you.

You sniffle, a tear threatening fall from your eyes as you pause, recalling a lifetime of memories and yet being forced to let them go. Gathering your strength with a deep breath, you write the final words you old guard left you with:

“Be brave, my little Princess. I know you can”

At last you write that you are not looking forward to tomorrow and that you expect to be quite beside yourself. It’s all you can write before the despondency overcomes you again.

Being the Lady that you are, you retrieve one of your ever present nearby handkerchiefs and dry your eyes. You set your journal back into it’s hidden home and restore your books to keep it safe. With the desk returned just as it was, you tiptoe back to bed and blow out your candle. Moving aside the velvet drape, you think one last time on your faithful old guard, remembering all the memories of your childhood you shared as you climb back under the sheets.

Tomorrow is a new chapter for the both of you, you suppose. You hope his story ends sweetly.

---

The tournament begins with much fanfare and ado as the festivities kick things off. You’re sitting pretty in a lovely silk gown between your mother and father, both equally dressed up. There’s games and feasting and music and dancing… All the things something of this magnitude should include.

And, as you predicted, you’re quite bored indeed.

As yet another jaunty reel plays from the minstrels, you can’t help but roll your eyes and look onwards. Past the castle grounds, past the village, past the fields and farm lands… Way, way out in the distance to the forest and mountains.

That’s where your soul lies.

Being the Princess is all well and good, but in truth, your heart yearns for nothing more than to simply be free. Even if all that’s out there is more grass and trees, just as there is all around you, oh what you’d give for the chance to see it. To touch the grass and leaves you’ve never seen before. To feel and smell the wind in it’s wild, untamed stomping grounds. Some days you dream of just running away, but…

Well, your guard would never allow it. And, here you are, getting assigned yet another figure to keep an eye on you in the name of your father.

A blast of trumpets shatters your daydream as your attention is called back to present. The royal scribe stands on a podium, announcing the main attraction at last. He reads off a long, tiresome list of names “Sir this and that”, “Lord ho hum”, ugh… At least the fighting should be entertaining, you suppose.

There are several rounds and three main competitions: Jousting, Dueling, and Archery. Score will be kept and knights slowly eliminated until a final two are left, at which point, the two will engage in a duel and may the best man win.

Admittedly, you tune out for the first several rounds until the riff raff and washed up old timers are sorted out. Not as though you have any say in the matter, but you pick a few favorites and follow their progress through the competition. Although in all honesty, you pick said favorites by their horses and the colors and patterns of their coat of arms.

However… One knight in particular has caught your eye both in skill and trappings.

His coat of arms features a fierce looking tiger and swords, the style of which tells you his family hails from somewhere out east, and his horse is a lovely dusty grey. Even you must admit, his skills so far aren’t bad either. He’s coasting through the competition with little difficulty and, even with the few close calls here and there, by the time he’s made it up to the final rounds you would almost dare to say you have your heart set on him.

Silently you root him on as he tiredly batters through opponent after opponent, somehow maintaining strength and endurance up until the very last man. A few breaks have been called in between rounds up until this point, but now the last two will be taking a long recession before the final fight.

Food and drink and dance is had once more for peasants and nobility alike while each knight gathers their strength, but you can’t keep your mind off the excitement of the final duel...

When at last, the time has come, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Once more the scribe’s voice rings out over the silent crowd as the two men ready themselves in opposing corners of the muddy sparring ring, “Fighting for the honor of being named the new protectorate of the Princess, Sir Weaver and Lord Fletcher will face each other in armed combat! The rules are as follows-”

The scribe's voice fades away, and immediatly your mind begins to wander.

Sir Weaver…

The name rolls off your tongue as you watch him pace and stretch in his corner of the ring. He’s armed with a sword and shield, classic weapons of the heroes of old, just like in your books and sonnets… His shield is tall and rectangular, with that very same tiger proudly emblazoned on its front. He gives his sword a few test swings and even from here you can hear the ringing of razor sharp steel.

His opponent wields a smaller shield and a rather nasty looking mace, a classic for smashing heads and armor alike. Thankfully you won’t have to bear witness to such violence should Sir Weaver lose, but you don’t much fancy the idea of such a savage weapon anyway. It may have its place in battle, but it doesn’t seem very… Heroic.

After far too much more courtly addresses, a trumpet sounds to begin the fight.

The Lord charges the Knight, mace raised to strike, as Sir Weaver stands his ground like a tower of strength. He deflects the blow easily, as well as the few more that come after it. A smart tactic, you observe, letting the opponent come to him and tire himself out. Lord Fletcher seems to believe that he can smash right through the great steel shield as that’s where most of his strikes end up landing. Sir Weaver’s tiger is quite battered, but holds out well.

All the overhead motions of the mace swings prove to be a disservice soon enough though, as the knight stabs his way through chinks in the armor here and there as the Lord slowly grows more and more weary. His movements become sluggish and desperate, a lethal combo, and before long the mud is mixed red with the wounds of the mace wielding Lord.

To his credit, he fights to the bitter end, but the duel is called before too much blood is shed.

A roar of approval goes up from the crowd. Amidst the cheering and the fanfare, Sir Weaver bows politely before the royal family and makes to exit the arena. You cock an eyebrow. Curious, you would’ve expected more of a show given the grand odds he just overcame.

Regardless, you clap politely and watch the two men exit the ring. It’s nearly night by now and there’s still more to do. Tomorrow your new knight will be sworn in and given his orders and hours and so forth… But for now, you have many things to tell your journal tonight.

---

The next day begins as it always does. You wake up at sunrise. Your chamber maid helps you dress, pick out your outfit for the day, and style your hair. Finally, you’re ready to join your family and the court for breakfast. A few questions come your way asking about whether or not you’re excited to meet your new knight and what you thought of the tourney yesterday, but otherwise you’re ignored as usual.

When breakfast passes, the court moves on to the throne room. It’s easily the most illustrious room in the palace, save for perhaps a few that suit your particular tastes. Small windows sit high above near the vaulted ceiling, raining in sunlight and fresh air from far above. Giant chandeliers hang proudly, holding a dizzying host of candles. The walls are blanketed in gorgeous tapestries, some of which you’ve had the honor of assisting in the weaving of. They’re laced with threads of gold and silk, and when they catch the light just right, they give off an ethereal glow, bringing the stagnant scenes to life.

The typical court proceedings will begin shortly, but first the matter of your new bodyguard is to be addressed. Soon enough, Sir Grigori Weaver of, so on and so forth… is announced to the court. Finally, something interesting for the day. You sit up properly in your throne and take in the sight.

He’s dressed in an appropriately fancy set of gambeson and hose, clearly his armor is off to be under repairs. His one arm hangs freely, the other rests on the pommel of his sword, and he takes a brief look at his surroundings. He carries himself with purpose and a serious air which could almost take a turn for intimidating given a closer look. His face is rough with prickly stubble contrasted by a long, smooth mustache and hair combo. Between the two lies no feature of note aside from a grizzly scar running across a cloudy white, useless eye.

Sir Weaver nods towards you and your mother, then offers your father a proper bow, “My liege”

Your father smiles, and you can already tell you’re about to be stuck with this man whether you like it or not. He tells the knight to rise and after a brief exchange of greeting, Sir Weaver is sworn into your service complete with the whole ceremonial nonsense.

You rise and come forward, standing just a few steps above him on the throne platform. He hands you his sword and kneels before you. Without the help of any prompting, you lead him through the oath phrase by phrase and at last you tap either of his shoulders with the flat of the blade. To seal it all, you extend your hand with your signet ring.

“Thank you, my lady”, he takes your hand softly and kisses your knuckle, “I am yours”

He rises and accepts back his blade while you return to your throne. Your father makes arrangements for a whole new suit of armor to be commissioned for your knight, after all, his safety is your safety, and so forth. But for once, you don’t mind the droning on of court business.

It gives you some time to hide your blush.

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 8 (Bucky Barnes au)

“No, I don't wanna know, Where you been or where you're goin'

But I know I won't be home, And you'll be on your own”

Maniac by Michael Sembello was blasting from Wanda's room as she was going through her closet,  looking for something you could wear at the party. You were tapping your feet to the beat and shaking your head softly.

"This is perfect," Wanda said as she handed  you  jean shorts and a T-shirt. Finding something in your style had been hard, but the outfit turned out really cute on you. "And before you ask, I still have your plaid shirt if you want to wear that."

Your sister knew you too well ; or maybe it was just her ability to read minds. You were pretty sure it was a mix of both. You looked at your watch : five in the afternoon were already passed and you knew Nat was supposed to arrive soon, so you went to the kitchen after changing. Actually, she was already there.

"Nat!"

"Happy birthday, girl! How do you feel about hitting thirty, huh?"

"Surprisingly good, to be honest," you answered as you hug her tight. "I'm glad you came by."

"Me too. Steve told me pretty interesting news about some guy." She wiggled her brows, making you raise yours.

"Not that interesting. Yes, he is my supposed soulmate, but I got married last week, not matter how that's turning out."

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't be there, by the way. However, if I trust Steve's words..."

"Don't? Please." You smiled, making her laugh. You really must've sounded desperate, or in denial –  or, once again, both.

"Fine. But I can't promise I'll hold back my thoughts."

"I know you won't," you joked. "Anyway, is the cake already here?" You asked Sam.

"No, Bucky's not back yet."

"Oh, alright. I thought since he left early..."

"He had stuff to do, apparently." He shrugged, showing he didn't know any more than you did. A smirk appeared on his face. "Miss him already?"

"Ugh, I hate you all."

"No, you don't!"

Everyone around you laughed and, frankly, you couldn't hold it in either. These people always had a way of making you forget about your problems, and Darren hadn't crossed your mind until now.  Hours went by and more people arrived at the compound. It wasn't supposed to be a big party, but Tony was obviously unable to resist to Peter Parker asking if he could tag along. This kid loved being around here, maybe as much as you did. Once eight hours rang, almost everyone was there, except for Bucky. You were sure he'd eventually show up, even though you  couldn't help but feel a little anxious while everyone shared champagne bottles.

"Alright, close your eyes," Sam said, dragging you out of your thoughts. He put his hands on your eyes as you giggled softly.

"What is it now, you asked?"

"Patience, lady."

You couldn't see  anything – obviously – but you soon heard voices around you singing you a happy birthday. When Sam removed his hands, your eyes took some time to adjust to the sparkling candles on the big birthday cake. More importantly, it took you a second to recognise the man carrying it. Where had his hair gone?

"Your hair," you whispered once he was close enough.

He shrugged. "C'mon, the candles will melt if you don't blow them out." His own smile quickly spread to your face as you blew out your thirty candles. Everyone applauded and Bucky started cutting it so that people could help themselves. Once seated next to him, you took a bite of your own piece and closed your eyes in delight.

"Raspberries. I love those."

"Yeah, Wanda said it was your favourite," he told you before eating a chunk of cake. "How do you like the party  so far?"

"I love it. Everyone I love is here, so I couldn't be happier, really." You didn't even think about what you were saying. Tony's champagne did that to you for sure.

"Everyone?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" You gave him a confused look  before it dawned on you. "Oh,  I know. Well if he's not here by now, I guess that means something."

"Well I'm not the one saying it. It's your night, anyway, so let's not talk about him and let you have fun." He gently poked your arm – you felt delighted, as it was him who'd  made the move this time. It felt as if he was becoming more comfortable around you : you'd noticed he'd been laughing with you a lot more frequently these last few days.

"So, why the new haircut?"

"I wanted some change. New me, old me, I guess." He took a sip of his beer.

"I like it. Can I have some?" You pointed at the bottle. He gladly handed it to you ; damn, this man did not know what one beer might do to you, especially after champagne.

Wanda spotted you from across the room and stopped walking towards you, interrupting her conversation with Scott Lang.

"I hope that's your first drink tonight," she said with a grin. "You don't want to expose your party demon now, do you?"

You chuckled at Bucky's scared eyes. "I'm taking this back," he said, taking his beer back and finishing it.

"Don't worry, Bucky. I'm fine. I'm just a little more outgoing when I drink, that is all."

A screeching sound made you turn your head : Steve had just plugged a microphone into the speakers.

"Alright, so, as you all know, tonight's Y/n's thirtieth birthday. For the occasion, I'm sure she'll gladly treat us to a speech now."

If looks could kill, Steve would've died on the spot, super soldier or not. You never had inspiration for that kind of stuff.

"C'mon guys,  she needs some encouragement," Sam chimed in.

Tony and Peter both whoo'ed  at you with huge smiles, and you had no other choice than going on that improvised stage which consisted of the space between the speakers. You took the microphone from Steve's hand and Nat handed you a beer.

"Oh my, thanks for that," you said, chuckling. "I want to thank you all for coming. You  might have known me for a while, or not, but hum...you guys are family. I couldn't be happier to celebrate thirty years on Earth with you." You raised your bottle in front of you. "To found family."

Everyone  drank to that, and you jumped as Sam placed his hand on your shoulder and started speaking in another mic.

"So many emotions there, I love to see it. Now we're not done with you. Remember that night in Brooklyn?"

"Oh no."

"Oh, yeah... we're  gonna do it. And you're gonna love it, don't you dare say otherwise."

You stared at Sam before downing your drink. He was damn right.

"Okay Scott, fire away!"

"Toniiight,  I'm gonna have myself a real good time..." Sam started singing this fabulous bop as the music soared in the air. You obviously joined him right away.

"I'm burning through the skyyyyy, yeah." You probably were not singing right, but you couldn't have cared less. Everyone around  you was singing – more like yelling – along and you finally let go of your last inhibitions.  You were singing and dancing,  pretending you were the international rock star giving a representation. For once, you saw a wide smile on Bucky's face that couldn't seem to go away, and you decided to have fun with him a little. You pointed at him and smiled as you basically jumped to the beat.

"I'm a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb about to oh, oh, oh,  oh exploooode!"

He couldn't help but laugh and he even started tapping his feet to the beat as well. You went back to Sam and you ended the song back to back, definitely yelling more than you were actually singing.

"See, I told you you'd love it!" he exclaimed.

You laughed out loud before handing the mic to Scott. "You have fun now, I gotta rest for a sec."

You happily got back to Wanda and Bucky as Scott and Sam were joined by Peter to keep this improvised karaoke going. Your sister was less than surprised, since this wasn't the first party she had with you. Bucky, on the other hand...

"I didn't know you could do that," he said with a grin.

"What, absolutely slay the day with a mic in my hand? Hell yeah I can, only after some drinks though."

"Yeah, I don't know if your cheeks are this red from drinks, dancing or just regular blush."

You chuckled at his laugh, even placing your hand on his shoulder while doing so. When your eyes were done squinting from all the laughs, you froze.

"Darren, I-"

"That science guy let me in."

Bruce shot you a sorry look, raising his hands in the air. "He wouldn't let me ask you for your opinion first anyway."

Damn, you hadn't realised how much everyone disliked your husband. After all, no one had ever been rude to his face, unlike his friends. Bucky turned around to face him and crossed his arms over his chest : his smile was long gone now, as if it had been only a fever dream.

"You put on quite a show there."

"Wow, so not even a 'happy birthday', huh?" You didn't even look down this time : you stared at him, no trace of a smile on your lips. "When I said you could come if you wanted to, I didn't say  that so you could come and be condescending."

"I'm not gonna wish you a happy birthday after I saw you hit on that guy in a fucking song!" he yelled, pointing at Bucky. Darren's anger was so unjustified that you would've laughed at him, hadn't you been remotely nice and equally angry at him.

Bucky didn't say a word as he slowly put Darren's hand down. You noticed he'd used his metal arm, even though you knew for a fact he was right handed and usually prioritised his dominant hand. That was quite passive-agressive ; you held back a smile.

"Do you even hear what you're saying?" Keeping your cool was not an option anymore, and you walked away from everyone. Contrary to Darren's belief, you didn't like 'putting on a show'.

"We're going home, now," he said firmly. "Your little crisis lasted long enough."

"My crisis? You've left me alone at home for days and now you expect me to come back? You're unbelievable, Darren. And you started pulling this shit before we were even engaged!"

"You never complained about this,  so why do it now?"

"Because I can't take it anymore! Is that so hard to believe? Is it hard to understand that I want to be treated the way I deserve?"

You ran a hand through your hair, looking at Darren in disbelief as the anger in his eyes just grew harder.

"You know what?" you continued. "If you have nothing better to say, I might as well just  go back to the people who really love me. As far as I'm concerned, this" — you gestured at the both of  you – "is over."

You turned around, feeling a huge confidence boost that still wasn't strong enough to overcome your disappointment.

"What's that on your back?" His voice was so low compared to seconds earlier that you looked back at him.

"What?"

He walked up to you fast, but too slowly not to be noticed by Steve and Bucky, who'd been watching the scene carefully. Despite their obvious strength, they couldn't get to you before Darren violently lifted the back of your t-shirt, scratching  your back with his nail at the same time. You let out a cry and next thing you knew, Darren was pinned against the wall, held back by Bucky's arm.

"You lied," he whispered. "You do have a tattoo."

Damn. You had always been careful to wear high waisted jeans. All it took was one careless pair of shorts. You had no answer to give to him, so Darren looked at Bucky instead.

"It's you. Right? I fucking knew it." He looked back at you. "I should've known you weren't to be trusted around other guys. You're such a-"

"I think you should leave." Steve had laid his hand on his friend's shoulder to try and calm him down. Bucky let go of your husband and shot you a side glance to check on you. You were crossing your arms on your chest and your eyes had never been more interested in the floor.

"Steve's right," you uttered. "You should go." You  walked away with these words. You hadn't even noticed there was no longer any music playing in the room. Silence was oppressing and everyone seeing you cry was not an option. You walked to your room in daze. Once you felt the door closing behind you, you allowed yourself to break down. It was a knock on the door that made you tilt your head up a few minutes later.

--- You have no idea how excited I am for part 9!!! If I wasn't strictly following my self-imposed rule of having two unpublished chapters at all times, I would post it right away. x) I hope you liked this one!! Feel free to give me any notes you may have : I improve thanks to readers.

Message me if you want to be added to the tag list (seeing it grow is making me so happy)!

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @coniumalces @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell

[botwstoriesandsuch]

[Image ID: A screenshot of an anon asking saying “I just wanna say that your tags whenever you rb art and fics are so cute 🥺 you reblogged something of mine the other day and the tags were just so nice and innocent??? It’s like watching a little kid at an aquarium 😝so as an artist I thank you, hope you don’t take it as cringy” End ID]

- - - - - 

Cringey?? nonononono I may be a young kid watching the pretty fish swim aimlessly in the aquarium but I will

recklessly enjoy other people’s content don’t test me

I try to keep it in the tags cause I don’t wanna take away from the op’s original work, plus it makes it easier for other people to rb it from me, but I will amp up the love and appreciation when the situation calls for it. You could straight up come into my inbox or messages and just ask me to give you a reblog and I will do it, I do not care I love you, content creators.

Cringe Culture is dead it’s time to gush plus if I do this often enough people might do it more for me so it’s a win win hehe

Legit, I got a super sweet comment on one of my fics quoting something I wrote and it made me so happy so I was like “huh, guess I’ll do that more often then” and now I’m doing that, that’s how impressionable I am asdfghjk

Also hello?? specifically *my* tags helped you out?? I am a nobody, CLEARLY not enough people are doing this smh, allow me to teach the masses for a sec here

How To Make A Content Creator Happy: the world’s simplest guide to spreading serotonin through a keyboard

Step fucking one) You reblog it. I mean, that’s a given. You’ve all seen those “reblogs help creators out and likes do nothing” posts so I won’t rant too much. Likes are good, but reblogs are like handing someone a stack of a hundred dollars and all it takes is one click! 

(PRO TIP: Hold down the button and swipe for mobile, and hold the left alt button and click once for computer [though it will only rb to your main blog. if you want it for a side-blog then you’re stuck with two clicks but HEY two clicks to help out a creator you like is nothing!])

You share it! Just share stuff. Share the ao3 like, please do it. Don’t repost, don’t just mention it, give the links especially when you’re just in conversation or talking about it around plz I swear it does wonders

Ok moving on to the super simple stuff for commenting and putting stuff in the tags because I guarantee that the op will read them

write A N Y T H I N G and I literally mean anything just fucking:

!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sdjflksdjfkjh

?!?!?!?!!?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghghhhhhhhhh

:OOOOOOOOO

prettyyy

<33333333333333333

just fucking go ham, go nuts, it doesn’t need to be coherent it just needs to EXIST the very existence of someone enjoying someone’s content gives so much serotonin so stop being silent cowards and give us a smiley face from time to time

uh what else what else....hmm [golden rule is treat others the way you want to be treated, so if you’re a creator yourself, just give whatever you would want seen in the comments of your stuff! I mean that’s how I came up with all this...]

Point out the details! I mentioned earlier about quoting stuff from fics (that stuff is just 👌👌👌 so delicious) but I’m pretty sure (I’m not an artist myself don’t quote me) that the exact same effect is present when you talk about details in art or something. So talk about that pretty snowflake in the background! Or that piece of dialogue that made you laugh. Just a simple nod to the details is a big difference between saying “I like this” versus “I like this thing that you took the time to make the effort you put into the details did not go unnoticed”

just ALL the feedback please and thank you

this might vary from person to person, though personally I love when people are like “The way you write imagery is so good please do more!!” so just give a little nod to someone like “The way you draw this character is amazing please do more” or something like that

I wouldn’t go as far as to give criticism (although personally I’m the type of person that loves the occasionally critique for future reference, cause it means that you care as much as I do about the quality of my work) 

But along the same lines as the details thing, a nice nod to a creator about what they’re doing right is sooooo good! makes the butterflies flutter

                ~~~~~~Did that post give you emotions?~~~~~~

   G   O   O   D

 ~~FUCKING TELL US~~

THE ACT OF SOMEONE WRITING A SET OF LETTERS, OR SOMEONE SKETCHING A BLOB MADE ANOTHER DISTANT HUMAN BEING DEVELOP CHEMICALS IN THEIR BRAIN?? SURE WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT BECAUSE WOW THAT’S AMAZING!?!??

just go “I’m so happy” or “I’m so sad” just “TT__TT” just fucking “:OO” or just “I hate this” [HUMOURISTICALLY] and “I can’t believe you’ve done” just give it yes tell us the emotion that you have felt we love it

I don’t think enough people understand how amazing that is???? You were once in a normal, neutral state, and then a piece of content that I created just made you smile or laugh or cry like WHAT that’s amazing omg

Ok so that’s pretty much the simple stuff right, that’s your elementary classwork right there

Just give something, literally anything and just go “I love this so much!!!!!” bam done, you just murdered the op with your love, great job

So yeah, that’s that. Pretty simple stuff, no?

...but you wanna graduate to master class?

You wanna fucking go ape shit

you wanna just

g o    t o    town?

I said this was gonna be a simple guide so don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell you that you have to write a full length essay on every post that you come across

[BUT IF YOU WANT TO DON’T LET ME STOP YOU THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE AMAZING?? HELL WRITING OUT A PARAGRAPH OF A COMMENT IS ALREADY JUST *CHEFS KISS* MASTERCLASS OF MURDERING THE OP WITH LOVE JUST ANALYZING THE SHIT OUT OF THE COLORS AND SHADING AND FRAMING OR JUST POINTING OUT THE THEMES AND SUBTEXT AND CHARACTERIZATION --part of the reason I love betaing stuff so much because I can analyze shit and shower it with premature love while also helping fics to be even better than they were originally ugh so cleansing for my literature heart-- SO YEAH GIVE CREATORS A PARAGRAPH, DARE I DREAM OF PARAGRAPHS, BECAUSE WOW YES PLEASE YES]

...ahem anyway

the way to graduate from good to great as a receiver of content is

to do all this

any of this

any of this simple stupid amazing shit

and just

put it in an ask or message

that’s literally it

Let me tell you why that’s so amazing, it pumps up the already amazing dopamine dosage of these actions alone, and multiplies it by a hundred, let me tell you why

Let’s say you read a drabble. You loved it, you reblogged it, you gave it hearts and emojis and ranted for a few tags about how it made you drop your muffin on the ground. Fantastic work, you just made the op pass out.

Then you go about your day and that’s the end of that.

BUT

if you do all that

and then put it in an ASK

dare you even a direct message?? (probably not most of us on here are cowards I get that)

but an ASK, anon or otherwise?

The message you just sent to the op was “I interacted with the post you made, and I loved it so much that I went the extra mile of going to your blog to make extra extra sure you understand how much I liked your thing”

There’s a wordless wall with every post! You like and reblog the thing and move on with your day. 

But the fact that YOU sent a HEART a SINGLE sentence about how you liked a thing? the fact that you BREACHED that wall and just fucking keyboard smashed in the inbox? the fact that you did that is the most amazing thing in the world

you just ambush the op with good vibes. we were expecting the bare minimum in the comments and tags, but the fact you when out of your way to make it a message or ask???? superb, outstanding, the sheer SHOCK of it will shift tectonic plates

you’re my fucking hero if you do this. you’re a godsend. I would kill for you,👏people👏would👏kill👏for👏you.

AT LEAST THEY WOULD KILL FOR YOU IF THIS ACTION DIDN’T ALREADY MURDER THEM

BE A MURDERER, NAY, A SERIAL KILLER. MURDER CONTENT CREATORS WITH LOVE

BE RECKLESSLY KIND AND LOVING YOU PIECE OF SHIT, ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE CRINGY TO STARVING AND DYING WRITERS AND ARTISTS WE WILL TAKE IT ALL GOD DAMMIT

YOU ARE A CHILD STARING UP AT AN AQUARIUM IN WONDER.

MAKE YOUR HAPPINESS STIR THE TIDES, LET YOUR PRESCENCE BE KNOWN PAST THE REFLECTION OF THE GLASS.

THE FISH ARE LOOKING FOR YOUR SMILE. 

[ttttaehyungie]

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘  pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘  genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘  rating | NC-17 ☘  word count | 5.2k ☘  warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘  summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘  a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.