#lmk if you want it on ao3

[disappointingyellowhighlighter]

A little explainer on what happened with AO3:

Basically, someone or a group of someones decided to levy a DDoS attack. What this means is that they created a botnet (network of devices controlled by a bot, usually run in the background of an unsecured IoT device or computer being used for other things. Think data mining) to flood the servers with false requests for service.

What this does mean: AO3 might go back down, if the attack is relaunched. These types of attacks are usually used against businesses where traffic = money, thereby costing a company money. This isn't really an issue here since AO3 is entirely donation and volunteer based.

What this doesn't mean: stories, bookmarks, etc will be deleted and your anonymously published works will be linked back to you. No vulnerable points are breached during this process, so unless this group ends up doing something else, no data breaches will happen. You are safe, your content is safe.

[hime-bee]

Homicipher has a tag on AO3 now, babes, started by this bitch here ✌

Mr. Scarletella is my first victim 😌

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[jacquelying]

“Happy New Year,” James says and crosses the small room to stand beside Francis at the counter.

The final chime of the clock rings out into silence.

Francis looks at him side-on. There’s a strange and unreal quality to the moment like something he might imagine in a fever late at night. “Happy New Year, James.”

[thetomorrowshow]

hi i’m the anon who asked to make more of the reverse au

i realised i’m actually pretty terrible at writing and am terrified of posting my work anywhere but i still have so many ideas. i thought i’d just share them here in case you or anyone else is interested (you don’t have to read them i just want to get them out of my head)

-scott and jimmy become pen pals and write to each more and more until it’s a daily occurrence. through the letters jimmy tells scott everything that was said in dissonant air (he can’t control his powers, he never meant to hurt anyone, the depressing thoughts, etc)

-they see each others real faces during a poorly timed letter delivery. scott had come to give jimmy his letter in his civilian get-up at the same time jimmy was leaving his apartment

-scott didn’t return to being a hero between the times he was kidnapped from his injuries and from his fear of seeing xornoth again. he stayed trapped in his house writing letters. his friends were more than happy to help him buy groceries and stuff every once in a while. nobody noticed when he got kidnapped except for jimmy, since the letters stopped coming. at first jimmy thought scott had come to his senses and stopped talking to him but still had a feeling something was wrong

-jimmy tried to tell the other hero’s something was wrong but they didn’t trust him. after days of constantly bothering them and insisting major was in danger they finally complied. jimmy told them about scott’s previous kidnapping and they got on the case

-the hero’s tried to find xornoths lair by themselves (they wouldn’t let jimmy help for obvious reasons) but gave in after months of failure and let poor jimmy help. he used what information he could find from all of the letters he was sent. it wasn’t a lot but it was enough to work with

wow this got long. sorry about that! there’s still other stuff i had in my head with this (like with what was going on with scott during all of this and how they get him out) but idk if you’d want to hear more. sorry if this was bad i’m not the best with writing and grammar

I never thought I would write anything else for this au of an au. But hey, here we are.

For clarity's sake, Jimmy is 'S' and Scott is 'M'.

---

Hey! Hope everything’s good. Sorry about your security camera :/ I think I broke it… But I just wanted to say thank you for not mentioning me to the police. Or the reporters. Yeah. Sorry. But I hope you’re getting to feeling better! Thanks again and sorry again

Thanks

S

~

Thank you for your help.

-M

~

Hey, just wanted to let you know I got your note! Glad I could help, really. I feel like I never do anything right, so it was nice to be able to help someone for once. On a related note, I think your groceries went bad. Sorry :( I should start pre-writing these so that I don’t stand on your doorstep for so long. But how does getting groceries delivered work? I’ve been wanting to try it for a while because supermarkets are a landmine. But I hope you’re well! I hope you’re eating enough. Sorry about the groceries.

Thanks!!

S

~

Please do not stand on my doorstep to write notes.

You visit the store’s website and click the delivery option.

-M

~

Thanks for the advice about the whole shopping thing! I haven’t done it yet because I dropped my phone into an incinerator the other day and I’m still trying to buy a new one but the power goes out every time I walk into an electronics store. I’ll try it out once I have a new one though!! And I’m so so sorry I know I shouldn’t stand on your doorstep because like anyone could pass by, which is why I’ve only been stopping by at night, but I think Pearl almost saw me the other night so I’ll be more careful.

Sorry again!!

S

P.S. Sorry I’m standing on your doorstep but I was just wondering why you haven’t done any interviews?? You’ve been back for while now and people are going to worry… just checking to make sure you’re okay! Getting kidnapped can kind of take it out of you for a while :/

~

Sorry you haven’t said anything I just wanted to let you know that I tried out the delivery thing!! It worked really well actually I didn’t have to sign for it or anything just came right up to my doorstep. A lot of the stuff wasn’t what I ordered and the jam I wanted had shattered but it worked and it was way less stressful than usual so you’re the best for telling me how to do it thanks so much!

S

P.S. sorry sorry sorry but you don’t have to write me back if you don’t want to, I just wanted to check that you’re doing okay! Have a good week :) 

~

If they sent you the wrong items, you should get a refund.

Thank you. I don’t plan on any public appearances until I don’t panic when I go outside for the time being. I am recovering well.

-M

~

Okay you didn’t say to stop writing but it was good to hear from you! I felt really bad that I couldn’t help you more that night so I just worry. I’ve been thinking lately though that you probably don’t want to hear from me though so I can stop.

I do need to say something first, though. I mentioned it when you were at my at that apartment with me, but I don’t know how much you remember from then or anything. But basically I’m so so sorry about everything. Like literally everything. I’ve never forgiven myself for Aeor and I don’t expect you to, either, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. If I could change everything I would. Believe me I would. I’ve hurt too many people. It would be better if I didn’t exist. I don’t deserve to I’ve hurt I should just start a new note at this point, haha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t want me to write any more notes. I’ll stop. I hope you’re doing well and you continue to recover!

S

P.S. last time I got kidnapped I was really scared of going back to my apartment so I moved and I felt better, so maybe you need a bit of time out of the city to help you get tip-top :)

~

Thank you for the apology.

And my therapist thinks that might be an unhealthy way of coping, as much as I might agree with you that getting away sounds nice. I’m working through it.

You don’t have to stop writing.

-M

~

I AM SO SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE AT MY DOOR BEFORE I WALKED OUT LET’S NEVER TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN

Anyways wow you have a therapist that’s good!! My advice isn’t really good haha sorry. I actually did therapy for a little when I was in school but then everything went really bad with my powers and but then things didn’t work out. I don’t know why I crossed that out. Basically I was in therapy to try and learn how to control my powers and well we know how that ended up.

Quick question maybe I haven’t paid enough attention to you on tv but are your eyes naturally that blue? Because it’s really blue.

S

~

This is my natural eye color.

I didn’t know that there was a therapy program for children who struggle to control their powers. You said it didn’t help, though. I’m glad that you were able to figure it out without professional help.

You were kidnapped before. Does it get any easier? I’m sorry to hear that.

-M

~

Oh so about the therapy thing yeah my powers came when I was like 15 and that’s usually a little old for that therapy but they made a special exception. But no it didn’t work. Actually my parents were planning to send me away to a specialist where I could get the help I needed but it never ended up happening. So I just never learned how to control them.

On a related note a giraffe ate my new phone but I tried out the delivery thing again before that! I kind of expect to get the wrong things because of my powers haha so I’m not going to complain about my ten bottles of ketchup. But my jam did shatter again so I have to decide if it’s worth the anxiety of going to the store.

The first time I got kidnapped, I was really scared. I didn’t know what was happening. They wanted information, I think? I was panicking really bad because they kept pointing guns at my head. I got out pretty quick but it was bad for a long time. I didn’t want to leave my apartment. I mean I never do, really, but it was even worse.

I don’t know when I moved on. I think my sink broke and I was forced to leave the house, but moving isn’t the same as moving on, you know? Like you can run anywhere but it’s usually just running away. You have to face it.

S

~

Thanks for the advice. I really liked that last thing you said.

I don’t want to face them, though. I know I have to, but what if they take me again?

I’m sorry. These are my problems, not yours.

-M

~

Oh gosh I didn’t mean you have to face Xornoth!! No that sounds bad! They literally kidnapped and tortured you for like a month dude! Honestly forget what I said about the whole running away thing, you should really try to get away from this situation if you can. You shouldn’t feel responsible for Xornoth when they hurt you like that, let someone else deal with that! There are tons of supers in the city, just tell one of your friends that you don’t want to be involved with Xornoth and they’ll take care of it!

S

~

I’m the Primary Protector, though. It’s my job to face the city’s greatest threats, and Xornoth is one of them. I should be able to handle them.

I don’t want my friends to see me any differently. They already give me weird looks. I honestly wasn’t very badly hurt—I was mostly malnourished. They don’t understand why I’m not back in the game yet. I don’t know how to tell them.

I wish I could leave.

-M

~

:(( it sounds like you’re really struggling. Do you think you might have PTSD? You don’t have to answer that. But you should take your time! If it was anyone else, I think they’d have moved very far away to get away from the danger which is smart. It’s actually really upsetting that you can’t. Maybe you can work out like a code with your friends so that they can come in and handle Xornoth if they show up while you’re working? Honestly just the fact that they were able to kidnap you once means that there should be extra protection for you. Heck maybe I can do something.

If you need anything though I’m here. I don’t get it exactly but I kind of know what it’s like. I mean yeah I’ve been kidnapped before a couple of times but I know what it’s like to not want to go outside in general. To be scared of what could happen. Well you have other friends but I’m here to help if I can. I don't make promises ever because they never work out for me but I'm here.

S

~

Thank you for the offer. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.

I have been diagnosed with PTSD, actually. I’m also readjusting to my antidepressants still, so my therapist thinks some of my anxieties come from the meds change and will even out in time.

I think I’ll do a public interview soon. I don’t want them to think that they’ve scared me away.

They’re dangerous. Please don’t endanger yourself. They experimented on me They might try to It isn’t worth the risk.

-M

~

The craziest fight happened downtown!

Okay so I was really just trying to get to the Planet Fitness to take a shower (I’m not homeless haha my shower is broken again) but Mythics was battling Pearl downtown and it was WILD. Like they were not pulling any punches, and I thought they were kind of friendly rivals but this was just crazy! But then the Oracle got involved? So the fight just kind of stopped when he touched them and then he left. I thought the Oracle was a villain but that was vigilante behavior if you ask me. I get it though, if I could’ve done that I would’ve. Like maybe he just needed to take a shower too.

Anyways my powers decided to make everything ten times worse like usual so a giant worm burst out of the ground. Maybe I should have let the Oracle touch me too so that I could join Mythics and Pearl on the ground crying. They’re fine btw some civilians dragged them out of the way of the worm. I was too busy trying to figure out a way to deal with the worm. I think Mythics woke up and magicked it into one of his portal things.

But anyways it was crazy. Well you probably already saw it on the news or something.

I hope the interview goes well!! How does that even work? Like does somebody come to your house or do you go to the news station or what? I'm assuming you've done a couple of interviews before idk.

S

~

I saw about the attack. You should look up ‘tired man throws phone at giant worm video’ if you haven't seen it.

For the interview, I reach out to a news outlet and set up an interview (or, more often, they reach out to me). Then we usually meet in a nice room in their office. I've done tons of interviews, you can find them on my twitter or on youtube.

I'm nervous about the interview. I tried to get a reporter I like but I just know that they'll ask me why I've been away. I don't want them to think I'm weak. It isn't your problem, anyways. I'll talk about it with my therapist.

Really though, you should watch that video.

-M

~

NOOO THAT'S SO BAD THAT SHOULD BE A CRIME

In my defense I was really tired and I just threw whatever was in my hand at the worm, I didn't realize it was my phone.

I've never given an interview before but man that sounds stressful. I hope it goes well! I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention me in it of course but you know that. Good luck and let me know how it goes!

Also if it helps at all taking time off definitely doesn't make you weak. Sometimes it's even stronger to admit you need a break than to keep powering through. Especially after being held captive and tortured for a month.

Good luck again!!

S

P.S. your cat is super cute but maybe she shouldn't be outside? It's really dangerous for cats to live outdoors and I don't want to accidentally hurt her :((

~

Thanks for the kind words.

I can send you the link to the interview if you tell me your phone number. Or I can dm it to you on twitter—is the verified account actually you? The one that mostly shares scam links and random ip addresses?

Also I'm working on leash training Elle, so that we can go on walks and she can be an inside cat.

-M

~

I've tried to write this note like fifty times but the paper keeps tearing so I'll keep it short. My phone number changes a lot and I currently don't have a phone (giraffe again) but I'll just look it up when I get one! And yep that's my twitter, I try to delete the old pictures of me it posts but I gave up on when it posts my location.

Good luck again!

S

~

Why don’t you delete twitter?

-M

~

I did :( 

S

~

Solidarity, your life kind of sucks.

-M

~

You’ve got no room to talk, mister.

S

~

So that’s what it is, isn’t it? We’re just two losers.

-M

P.S. but, for the record, your life is way worse than mine.

~

Okay I’ve got a new phone and I watched the interview! You did incredible, I think I would’ve run away like two seconds in. Like even when they asked that one question about why you weren’t back to work when you’re pretty much physically all right, you really kept it together. I was genuinely so impressed.

Also you’re looking good! I don’t know how to explain it haha, but you look a lot better than you did on my living room floor. How are you doing? Do you think it went well?

S

~

I’d look a lot better in your bed Thanks for watching. It was hard. It was really hard. But I think it helped. I feel kind of better about getting back into it all. Not yet, but maybe soon.

Do you ever wish you’d chosen a different path in life?

-M

~

I never really had a choice to make.

S

P.S. but if I wasn’t powered, I think I’d want to do something with my hands. I used to think subways were the coolest thing ever. I wouldn’t mind learning how to fix a subway car.

~

I studied to be an architect. I loved city architecture. I wanted to design skyscrapers.

I didn’t ever plan to be a hero full-time, but I do like it. I enjoy my job. I’m famous, I live comfortably, I do cool stuff on TV.

But what if I would’ve been happier as an architect?

Sorry, this isn’t your problem. I should talk to my therapist about it.

-M

P.S. Maybe you can take a community college mechanics course?

~

I really can’t, cars tend to break down around me. I don’t even take Ubers anymore (not related to the car breaking-down thing, but because last time the driver held me at gunpoint and stole my phone and wallet).

Honestly mate, if you want to be an architect I'd say go for it. Even if it's only something you can do on the side you know? There's tons of people who never got the chance to do what they love. You deserve a good life.

S

~

Thanks. I'm sorry that you never got to choose. You deserve a good life, too.

I can't let Xornoth win. If I run away, it's defeat. If I don't do anything about it, they might hurt someone else.

I need to take care of this myself.

-M

~

That sounds like a suicide note.

S

~

Wouldn't be the first time.

-M

~

You should ask your friends for help. You don't have to do this alone. You shouldn't face them alone.

S

~

I haven't really talked to anyone since I got back. I know it isn't healthy but I can't. They don't get it. They don't know what Xornoth did to me. I can't let it happen to anyone else. They're a danger to the city and it's my duty to take them down. Alone.

I'm sorry.

-M

~

You aren't alone, okay? If you have no one else, you have me.

S

~

Thank you.

-M

P.S. it means so much to me. I consider you a friend. You have me, too.

~

I saw you on the news fighting the Engineers. You looked good! The fight went really well. How do you feel about it? Is there anything I can do to like support you?

S

P.S. Elle won't stop begging me for belly rubs but each time I try she nips my fingers :(

~

Hey are you doing all right? I mean you took a little bit of a hit in that fight so it's okay if you can't make it to my apartment to drop off a note haha. You can email me if it's easier awsumwingback8@yahoo.com.

S

~

Major please just like let me know that you're okay.

S

~

I may have broken into Blossom’s house (I meant to just knock but the door fell down) and she kicked my butt but she hasn't seen you in a while, she said. Are you okay? I'll break into your house next haha.

S

~

I know you told me not to write notes while I'm on your doorstep but if you don't open the door by tomorrow night I'm breaking in. Elle keeps trying to get me to follow her inside. I'm going to watch your house until tomorrow night, okay? You don't have to write back, just open the door.

I'll come for you.

S

P.S. I didn't mean to sound weird or creepy I mean I have your back. I'll come save you if they got you. 

I promise.

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP Thursday/[Sinful Sunday post??]

hey so im gonna be taking time off writing for another job all next week so I'm posting this so you have something to read. DONT WORRY Sinful Sunday will continue, I'll just be busy this sunday and next making that capitalist coin!

This may turn into a fic, it may not. I wrote it right after I finished QAF for the 36th time.

Tags: Angsty steddiegrove, sex work, HIV+ character, violence

"Where do you go at night?"

Steve and Eddie are lying on Steve’s bed smoking weed when Steve asks the question that will inevitably change the course of their relationship, their future, forever. 

"What," Eddie asks, trying and failing for aloof. He thought he had been so careful. 

“You sneak out, every night. Where do you go, when you leave?"

Lying is the only probable next course of action. If he wants to keep Steve in his life that is. The truth will sever everything they once had. 

“Dealing doesn’t exactly fit a normal 9-5," Eddie says. It’s a half-lie. 

"You were selling drugs in Lafayette at 3 in the morning? Do you think I’m stupid," Steve snaps.

Eddie’s entire body flashes hot with the amount of detail in that accusation.  

"What? No! Wait, how did you- hang on, have you been spying on me?"

"Answer the question Eddie!"

Eddie feels cornered, and that’s never a good place for him to be. Because when he feels trapped, he lies, and he can’t stop. He will say anything to cover his ass, even if its just to survive to see another minute. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..."

Steve scoffs at Eddie’s attempt at self ownership. 

"Why can’t you tell me, Eddie? I mean, after everything we’ve been through!”

Eddie bites into his tongue. He wishes it was that easy. God, does he wish it could be that simple...  

“i can't, not with everything baby. I'm sorry.” 

“Why not?” Steve demands and now he’s angry. His eyes are lined with tears and Eddie can feel the beginning of the end coming like an approaching storm. 

“Because you won't love me anymore.” 

It’s the truth. And Eddie hates to even hear the words out loud. Because its gonna hurt so bad to hear it twice. From Steve’s lips. The soundbite will live with him for eternity. 

“Isn't that for me to decide,” Steve objects. 

“You've already decided.” 

Eddie remembers the shit Harrington pulled on Wheeler when she hurt his frail male ego by just existing in the same space as another man. He remembers the hateful way Steve spits the word ‘whore’ because he associates it with his father and all of his sins. It’s how everyone says the word. Like its poison in their mouth. 

Slut. Hooker. Whore. But that's what Eddie is. Until he can find something that pays better. Because he has to eat. He and Wayne won’t survive an Indiana winter without heat. And after Eddie was banished and then half-heartedly rewelcome into a unstable healing community, no one in Hawkins treats him the same. Weed sales have dried up. No one wants to hire him for any job. Not even the mechanic shop down the street that is desperately understaffed and Eddie is overqualified for. So what the hell else is he supposed to do? Wayne just turned 68. He shouldn’t need to work 12 hour shifts just to barely support the kid he didn't ask for in the first place. Eddie never should have been his burden. So this is Eddie’s way of giving back. Pulling his own weight so he didn't feel so much like a goddamn freeloader all the time. But could Steve understand that? Steve wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t, lets say as morally flexible as some other people.

"I can't- do this Eddie... If you’re going to lie to me." Steve says and one look into his eyes and Eddie feels what's left of the tie between them sever. 

"I'm not lying," He insists but its a half truth at best. 

"You're not telling me everything, that counts," Steve all but shouts. 

"You don't tell me everything."

He referring to whatever the hell went on between Hargrove and him two years ago. Eddie and Steve arent the only people different after an apocalypse. Their previous heated rivalry has all but burned out. So has Hargroves own personal brand of anger. They move around each other like chess pieces, always conscious of the others movement to limit interactions at school. But after school? Eddie’s seen Billy’s camero parked at Harrington’s more than it's parked in the trailer park. 

"That's different Eddie,” Steve huffs, scoffs as he pushes his hair back. “and you know it."

"How, how is it different Steve?" Eddie’s never brought it up before tonight. Eddie’s never been one for exclusivity, why the hell should he expect Steve to be?

"It doesn't involve you, or us. This does."

"Right,” Eddie scoffs, “Well, for argument's sake, it is safer for you not to know. For both of us."

Steve is silent for three beats too long.

Here it comes. 

Eddie can’t look at him. His face goes numb before the words can hit his ears. 

"Then you have my answer Eddie.”

It still hits him like a slap in the face. Steve’s done with him. And it hurts so much more than he anticipated it would. 

Eddie knew it was only a matter of time. He knew what Steve wanted in the end, and it was still someone more like Wheeler. A sweetheart. A family. Nothing Eddie can guarantee. Eddie doesn’t have much to say in his defense. So he doesn’t. 

"I'm sorry Eddie,” Steve, obviously uncomfortable in the silence, speaks again. “This is just, too much for me right now.”

"Okay,” comes out of Eddie’s numb mouth, even if it's the complete opposite. 

Eddie knew a clean break now would eventually be better than enduring their relationship fizzling out slowly. But it doesn't mean the inevitable failure of one more relationship doesn't hurt.

-two months later-

“Munson?”

Eddie blinks, of all the people to find him, here, he didn't think it would be Californian transplant, and fellow trailer trash bad boy Billy Hargrove from Hawkins. He just wants to disappear into the pavement. 

Eddie’s feet move to sprint, but Billy’s lighting reflexes catch him before he can. 

“Where the hell are you going now, Eddie?”

Eddie rips away from him. He hates the way his name sounds out loud. He hadn’t felt like ‘Eddie’ in weeks. He’s barely felt like anything. More like Nothing and no one. A nameless face in a sea of sex workers, businessmen, and bar patrons that he cycled through every day. 

“It’s none of your damn business,” Eddie spits, though it doesn't have much venom. He doesn't have the energy. He's sick, he’s cold, and he’s so fucking tired. He still has two more clients he can’t blow off tonight if he wants to have a prayer at ever getting unburied under his last hospital bill. Billy Hargrove and Hawkins and all that past shit is his lowest priority.  

“People are worried man,” Billy says, stopping Eddie from taking more than a step away. “Wayne especially. Don't you give a shit about him?”

Now Eddie is pissed, because who the fuck did Billy Hargrove think he was, telling him about what he should do? Talking to him about Wayne. As if he understood a goddamn thing about their lives! His anger flairs up his cough that only aggravates the pneumonia-scarred tissue and then Eddie’s coughing so hard it nearly knocks him over. 

When Billy moves close to ‘help’ Eddie slaps him off. 

“Everything I’m doing is for him! You don’t fucking know shit, Billy! How could you, you're just a kid!”

And while Billy was 17 and Eddie was 6 months into his 23rd lap around the earth, he felt so much older. His tragic sequence of life events had aged him decades. He’d be lucky to make it to 24 at this rate. 

Billy watches him curiously, putting together pieces Eddie doesnt mean him to. 

“Why did you take off Eddie?” 

“Why do you care?” Eddie doesn’t really think it's concern he sees in Billy's features. 

“Wayne doesn't have anyone else. You scared the shit out of him when you left.”

“Oh and what, you two are bffs now,” Eddie asks bitterly. 

Billy shrugged. 

“We've been spending a lot of time together, yeah.”

Eddie scoffs wetly. Fantastic. Now even Wayne has his own Eddie replacement. A better, nicer son. If Wayne didn’t need him anymore, well, he didn’t have any more ties back to Hawkins. He should be relieved, but instead he just feels empty. Forgotten. Unwanted. Billy had said people missed him, but the only name he offered up was Wayne’s.  

Eddie sniffs up the tears threatening to spill and reaches into his jacket. He takes out the seven hundred dollars and change he’s managed to squirrel away after his last AZT prescription refill and holds it out to Billy. 

“What is this?” Billy looks at the wad like its poisoned, and well, he's not entirely wrong, it's certainly dirty money. But its still green. And that’s all the world runs on. And speaking of money, the man he was currently scheduled to suck off is honking at him from across the parking lot, eyeing Billy with violent intent. Eddie needed to move quick before this escalated. 

“I’m not coming back. T-To Hawkins, I mean. I can’t, so I need you to give this to Wayne for me. Can I trust you to get it to him?”

Billy finally takes the money, counts it, and then his jaw drops. 

“There’s over seven hundred dollars here Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs dejectedly. “It should have been more but,” but you got stupid and believed some pretty, coked-up twink instead of following your gut. And now you get to live with the weight of that decision, forever… “It doesn’t matter. Just, please make sure he gets it. It should cover the next few payments on the trailer.”

Billy looks at him for a long time. 

“What the hell have you been doing Munson?”

Eddie scoffs before the car horn across the street blares loud, startling him right out of his skin. 

“Nothing you want to know about. Just please make sure he gets it, and knows, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Billy’s eyes lower suspiciously. 

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Because it has to be.” Eddie can’t feel anything below his neck anymore. The honk is starting up again. He’s really pushing his luck now. 

“Eddie, come on,” Hargrove begs and why does it sound like he’s actually pleading? Billy’s never had a nice word to say to him or Steve. And now he’s gone for what, a few weeks, and his enemy wants to become best friends? He doesn’t understand this plotline. He’s ready to get out of it. 

“I’m gotta go, Billy. Please, look out for Wayne.”

Eddie leaves the very next minute and sprints across the street, just narrowly avoiding being hit by the semi that blasts his horn.

[mayahawkeswife]

KIRIBAKU NATION HELP ME.

i’m looking for a fic along these lines: “i saw somewhere like headcanon bakugou saw kiri during the entrance exams and got a lil crush or whatever (he didn’t realize) but since kiri dyed his hair he didn’t recognize him but like connected the dots later (after they were together) or somthn” (message sent to my equally brain rotted friend)

if you know any fic or anything along these lines PLEASEEE SEND I BEG.

[tootalltech]

my toxic trait is that i watch/read a winter's tale by william shakespeare as if leontes, hermione, and polixenes are just in a really toxic throuple that goes downhill very quickly when leontes starts getting insecure

[fandomtransmandom]

Hello! I reached an AO3 goal, so prepare for a rambling personal post.

I broke 2.5 million words!

First of all, thank you to everyone who reads and supports my work. Without you, I could never have made it this far.

And more than anything, I want to thank Bill and Conan. Those tall, blue-eyed, assless dorks get me through the days and I am endlessly grateful for their infinite inspiration.

After 366 stories, ~200 of which are requests, I have slightly more confidence in my writing. But it's still hard. Combatting all the voices that tell me I'm not good enough and should just give up is a constant struggle. But because of my friends and my amazing partner @martymcdie88mph, I keep going. I know my fics aren't everyone's cup of tea, but writing about Bill and Conan makes my life worth living. And I'm blessed to have a handful of wonderful people who boost me with their encouragement and praise. Thank you all🧡

So, here's to the next half million. Who knows how long it will take, but I plan to have fun along the way!

Until then, remember:

[once-ina-blue-moon]

so I’ve been writing this tma fic for a while and idk if I should post it bc I don’t really post fic here??? and also it’s not done so it may be a while lol but I just wanted to see if anyone would be interested in it. it’s about termites, that’s all I’m saying

[iridescentgleam]

as night eclipses day (know the sun won't ever rise again)

Hi, did someone ask for Leshycat angst? ...No? Ah, well, too bad, I guess. I'll just leave this here then. read it on Ao3 Word Count: 2,493 TW: Main character death and a brief mention of violence and maiming (although it is never depicted and no detail is gone into).(Note to avoid any confusion: My Yellow Cat's name is Rowan.)

The sky is bright and clear as Lambert casually makes their way to the temple for the morning sermon. They can hear their followers go about their morning routines all around, some just waking up and heading to breakfast while others are hard at work, having been awake for hours already as their job requires them to be. Nothing of note will be happening today, but their followers seem to be in good spirits anyway, conversing good-naturedly over berry bowls and stopping for small talk on their way to the refinery or the lumberyard. All things considered, today is shaping up to be a good day, they think.

Which is why the guttural scream coming from the direction of the shelters takes them so off-guard.

It’s a horrid, awful noise that Lambert can only compare to the feedback that was filtered straight into their brain whenever one of the bishops emerged in front of them back when the Old Faith was still around. It is not a typical mortal scream in any regard, but, somehow, it is familiar to the lamb in a way they cannot quite place. Even after the person has stopped screeching, the sound echoes deep into the woods surrounding their community and leaves the lamb’s ears ringing violently.

The flock is silent when the echoing finally stops. All chatter has ceased, and even the sounds of people working in the stone mines and lumberyards halt. Everyone, the lamb included, is stunned by the scream. For a moment, nobody is moving at all.

And then, in that same terrible voice, someone cries out, “LAMB!!!” and instantly, Lambert knows why they recognize that scream.

It’s Leshy.

All eyes turn to Lambert, the curious, confused, and concerned all wondering why someone, let alone Leshy, would be screaming for their leader on a day like today.

But Lambert knows why.

It is only after the second, “LAMB!” though, that they take off running. Because if Leshy is calling for him, that can only mean one thing has happened. -----------

It is natural for followers to grow old. This is the way of life and death, and by the time their followers become elders, the lamb makes sure they are well taken care of and ready to greet death with open arms, unafraid of what comes after.

Of course, for some, death is not the end, but rather another bridge to cross in the road of existence. Lambert is guilty of reviving followers who they believe truly earned their right to continue on past what is supposed to be the end, but only if they know that it is something they want. Many of their followers are perfectly content to embrace eternal rest, after all. It is because of this that they do not take resurrection lightly.

They know what can happen if a follower who does not want it gets resurrected.

Thus, it is customary to ask elders what they wish for themselves when their time comes to retire from work. Many have family members and friends they want to be reunited with in the afterlife, so it is not a hard choice for them. Some simply crave the pleasantness of eternal rest. Others still tell them that they would be honored to continue to serve the cult, granted they were chosen for revival.

After many, many years of asking this question, they start to be able to predict what a follower will wish before they ask them, even without reading their mind. Certain types of people are more inclined to choose one path over another, so it does not shock them when a strong, nurturing type chooses to be reunited with the family he lost due to heretics or a burly, hard-working type asks if she could serve the cult longer. Some change their minds as their end grows nearer, but, for most, this is a question they have entertained for a long while before Lambert ever asks it to them.

Very rarely do they receive an answer that truly surprises them. They ask the question more as a formality than anything and simply end up nodding along to the follower’s explanation for why they chose the answer they did, even though Lambert can easily deduce why themselves.

That’s why, when Rowan -the diligent head farmhand for more than twenty years- says that he wishes to pass on peacefully and leave it at that, Lambert is already nodding along with a pleasant smile on their face before they can even process what is being said. When they finally do, they find themselves rearing back as if struck physically by the shock of what they just heard.

“I’m sorry?” they can’t help but ask, glancing down at the yellow cat as if they were seeing him for the first time.

“I wish to pass on, Leader. When it’s my time, I do not wish to be resurrected,” he reiterates, his tone even and almost carefree,  although the lamb can still sense the faintest bit of apprehension in his voice.

“...You haven’t told Leshy yet, have you?” they find themselves responding in a considerably more somber tone. It isn't really a question, although it comes out of their mouth like one. They already know the answer because... “Otherwise, I would have heard about it by now.”

Rowan dips his head, his graying whiskers barely skirting his chest. It’s all the confirmation the lamb needs to see to know that Leshy, indeed, has not been informed of this.

“You do not know how to tell him,” Lambert deduces, their voice becoming soft, almost coaxing. “You know you will have to eventually.”

“I am aware, yes,” the cat whispers back in an almost pained tone of voice. “But I do not want my last days with him to be ones of sadness and anger.”

“So you will go on letting him think that this state of yours is simply temporary and that you will rise again shortly after you pass?” they ask, casting a side-long glance at where Leshy is currently on the other side the cult grounds, blissfully unaware of the conversation Lambert was currently having with his partner.

“If I must do so to maintain the peace, then that is what I shall do,” Rowan replies, a steely sort of determination entering his tone. Much to their chagrin, he seems willing to die on this hill. They get the sense there is nothing they can say to talk him out of it.

They have half a mind to stomp all the way over to Leshy right now and tell him exactly what Rowan is telling them, but something in the yellow cat’s expression stops them from doing so.

After a long drawn-out silence, he eventually states, “I’m sure Leshy will find another lover eventually. And I want that for him, I truly do! He’s terrible at letting people in, but, deep down, he’s sweet in his own way, and he’s been taking care of me for the past few months, as he has done for all the time we’ve spent together. He’s funny too, and he has a great sense of humor. Really, what’s not to love?” He laughs softly to himself with a fond smile, as if he’s thinking of something Leshy had said long ago.

Suddenly, the lamb’s heart aches as they get a full sense of what Leshy will be losing. Rowan truly loves Leshy, that much is plain to see, and anyone with eyes (or even without them) can see how enamored the ex-god is with him as well. Lambert desperately wants to shake the cat by the shoulders and snap some sense into him, but they can tell that this decision is not one he has taken lightly. There is very little anyone could do to talk him out of this.

So the lamb concedes. After all, it is simply not their call to make. -----------

As Lambert approaches the shelter area, they can hear the sounds of Leshy’s agony loud and clear. There is clearly another person there with him because they can hear him snapping at someone in between whispered sweet-nothings to a lover who can no longer hear them. Really, he's speaking in frantic, half-baked sentences more than anything. Sometimes, it’s just soft, barely there mutters of “...my camellia, my camellia…” over and over again before morphing into blind rage in the form of earth-shaking cries of “YOU! YOU!”

If it was hard to hear, though, it was even worse to see. The lamb hesitates for a moment as the scene comes into view, swallowing down a lump got stuck in their throat before continuing on.

Leshy is kneeling over Rowan’s body, both hands blindly fisted in the cat’s robes as he alternates from focusing his attention on said cat to the other cat that happens to be in the vicinity.

Narinder, for his part, looks stoically down at Leshy grieving his dead partner, seeming exceptionally detached from his brother’s grief. The bridge that had been burnt between the two a thousand years ago seems yet to be rebuilt.

When Narinder looks up and makes eye contact with Lambert, his only reaction is a casual, “Lamb, deal with this nonsense,” and a thrash of his tail. Once they approach the scene fully, the black cat hardly spares him another look before turning on his heel and abandoning his brother with little more than a second thought. Lambert knows, though, that he will not stray far, as is the nature of an older brother, however estranged.

Narinder’s words seem to have gotten through to Leshy, despite his immense grief, though, because the ex-god of chaos whirls his head around to face them so fast they worry he might have seriously strained his neck. If he did, though, he doesn’t say anything. He simply gently cradles the body of Rowan in his arms and hoists the cat up into a bridal carry like it is the most effortless thing in the world. If Lambert didn’t know better, they would simply think Leshy is carrying Rowan because he fell asleep again somewhere, as is typical for an elder of his age.

The lamb instinctually flinches back as his body is thrust at them like a broken toy by a child. “Fix him…” the ex-god hisses in an otherworldly voice. “I declare it. NOW!”

Any hope Lambert might have had that Rowan told Leshy about his decision promptly shrivels up and dies in their chest.

Well, they thought, it’s been a good run, at least. It was nice knowing you, Red Crown. Please give my regards to Narinder when you promptly return to him after my death.

When the lamb makes no move to immediately remedy the situation, Leshy takes a step forward and presents Rowan’s body to them even clearer, as if it were possible for them to somehow miss it the first time. “Well?” he hisses, his voice dipping in and out a vocal range that was achievable by mortals. “What are you waiting for?! I am not speaking in tongues, am I?!”

They send up a silent prayer to any other gods that may possibly be out there and listening to them at this very moment as they reply, “...I can’t.”

For a moment, Leshy falls silent, seemingly stunned, before the rage returns stronger than ever. “What do you mean ‘YOU CAN’T?!’’’ he hisses, sounding truly like a god again, despite his continued presence in his mortal form. “YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN!”

Woo boy, time for the moment of truth, they think, before just deciding to spit it all out in one go. “Rowanaskedmenottoresurrecthimimsorry,” they reply, half tempted to shut their eyes against the onslaught they know will be coming.

Leshy falls silent again, this time for a longer period of time. The silence rings loudly in their ears, almost as deafening as his screams, if not more so. It’s eerie, watching all the fight seep out of Leshy like a snuffed candle. “What… what do you mean?” he eventually asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. This time, he truly does look like a child, his expression open and vulnerable as he turns to face his late lover, despite not being able to see him.

The lamb takes a deep breath before answering. “He didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t want you to be mad, but he asked specifically not to be resurrected. He said he was ready to move on.”

Oddly, it seems like the whole world has gone still. No birds are chirping, no insects humming. It’s all disturbingly quiet. The kind that tells you something is wrong. Lambert should have seen the signs before they all came crashing down on them.

“No… NO! YOU ARE LYING, YOU FILTHY LAMB!!!” he howls, throwing himself forward at the lamb despite still cradling Rowan’s corpse in his arms. “HE WOULD NOT SAY THAT, HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME!! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!”

“I’m sorry, Leshy,” they tell him sincerely, and that seems to be all it takes to break him, truly.

If they thought the scream he let out the first time was guttural, this one is just brutal. It sounds like it scrapes Leshy’s very mortal vocal cords raw as he falls to his knees and lays his late lover’s body back on the ground. Sobs and screams fight for the ability to leave his throat as he throws himself over Rowan’s corpse and cradles it tight to his chest. Black ichor quickly soaks the bandages that cover his face, so much so that the liquid starts leaking and quickly stains yellow fur as black as ink. As black as death. All Lambert can do is stand here and watch as Leshy starts pleading with his lover as if he were still alive.

“Please don’t leave me here alone! How come you get a choice and I don’t?!”

His cries echo around the silent grounds of their cult and permeate deep into everything that can hear his grief. Eventually, though, there is a limit to the mortal vocal cords, and Leshy’s wails of grief die into hoarse shrieks that fade away with each passing vocalization. Still, the ex-god will not give up Rowan’s corpse for anything. He fights brutally as a few cult members come by to collect Rowan’s body for burial, using instinct as his only guide. He successfully maims two of their followers because of it, but Lambert can’t find themselves too torn up about it after witnessing Leshy’s grief in its purest form. Rowan's body will need to be collected eventually, lest it rots, but it can stay a while still before Leshy realizes clinging to it will not bring his lover back.

For now, though, the lamb watches as Leshy, throat screamed raw, weeps over the body of one of their most successful farmhands. Watches and, for some reason, find themselves crying too.

[non-un-topo]

Rating: M

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Trans Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Trans Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Gender Identity, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, No actual SA occurs, Canon-Typical Violence, POV First Person, just trust me though, Melodrama, gotta tag for that because i'm a dramatic person

Summary:

At first, there were only names. Yusuf of the Kaysanites, pious and sure and cunning like my merchant father before me. Yusuf, a strong, godly name, given and taken by no one but myself. It was the name with which I carried myself to my new life, to the walls of al-Quds. I could not have predicted, at the time, the violence that would befall her. Her, that was the land that was holy, and her, that was me. A merchant’s daughter from Mahdia, who carried an old sword and a new story.

[hypertic]

Avatrice - neighbors AU

[and Beatrice has 2 kids]

Ava knocked on the door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she waited. Hearing the steps from the other side becoming louder with each passing second was almost enough for her to turn around to leave.

Almost, had it not been for the door opening right before she could run back to her apartment, revealing her neighbor greeting her with a small, polite smile.

Beatrice Xin.

Her next door neighbor that, though she’d moved in a couple of months after Ava, she knew almost nothing about.

She knew that she left too early in the morning and came back too late in the evening, but somehow managed to have enough time to take care of two little girls that, if Ava had to guess, were between five and two years old. She didn’t know much about the girls either; she assumed they were her daughters, even if Beatrice seemed far too young and far too busy to have kids, it was not her place to judge.

She also knew, from the few times they’d crossed paths, that Beatrice always managed to offer her a small, but genuine smile, despite how tired she seemed. If Ava was being honest, Beatrice smile was disarming, and she vividly remembers her legs going weak the first time she saw it.

That was another thing she knew: Beatrice was painfully attractive.

However, that was as far as Ava’s knowledge on Beatrice Xin extended, hence why she felt so awkward standing there.

“Hi.” Ava greeted shyly, already unable to stop her hands from fidgeting with a lose thread of her shirt. Beatrice kept her eyes on her; unreadable. “I’m Ava Silva, your neighbor from the other side of the hall.” In her head, Ava was thanking every deity she knew for giving her enough confidence to introduce herself without stuttering.

“I’m Beatrice Xin.” She offered her a hand for Ava to shake, who took it immediately, giving her a bright smile as she squeezed it gently. Beatrice smiled back, wider this time but still small, and Ava could do nothing but stare.

Beatrice let her, her own eyes scanning over her neighbor’s features to commit them to memory. Suddenly, she became aware that she was still holding Ava’s hand, the smaller girl’s grip loose around her own firm hand. She let go, maybe too quickly and too awkwardly, but Ava didn’t seem to care.

“Right so….,” Ava trailed off, her nerves getting the best of her. “There’s no way I can say this without sounding weird or stupid or straight up crazy and I completely understand if you just shut the door in my face-“ Beatrice’s amused yet slightly threatening eyebrow raise was enough to get Ava to stop her rambling and take a deep breath. “Can I borrow your kids?”

Any trace of amusement was gone as soon as Beatrice heard the word ‘kids’.

“Excuse me?” Ava took notice of her british accent and wondered how someone could grow more attractive by the second. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, feeling herself grow smaller in front of Beatrice’s threatening eyebrow raise and her suddenly closed off demeanor.

Ava fought the chills crawling up her spine, suddenly aware of the small height difference in Beatrice’s favor that made her all the more scary. Still, she took another deep breath, desperate to at least get her neighbor to hear her explanation and not think she’s completely insane.

“I… I kinda told my ex that I couldn’t go out with him today and meet his new girlfriend because I have to babysit, when I really just don’t want to go because even if we ended on ‘good terms’ and we’re friends, it’s going to be so awkward and I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself through that but I-“ She cut herself short to catch her breath, giving Beatrice a sheepish smile.

“What do you need the kids for then?” Beatrice asked before she could continue. “You said no, so why do you need my kids?” her voice was stern and demanding, like a high school principal, her face unreadable as ever.

“Well,“ Ava sighed, preparing herself to blurt out the second half of her explanation. “He said they could come to say hi while I babysit, because he lives in another city and wanted to stop by, since they’re only here for the weekend and it’s the only time he’s available. I couldn’t backtrack with the babysitting lie, because that would make it too obvious that I don’t want to meet them so…”

Ava looked up from her fidgety hands to the woman in front of her, who stared back at her with what Ava thought -hoped- was maybe a small glint of amusement in her dark, expressionless eyes.

“I know it sounds insane but you’re the only person I know that has kids and they really won’t stay for long; 30 minutes at most.” Beatrice frowned, and Ava couldn’t believe she actually seemed to be thinking about it. “I swear I’ll take good care of them, please!” Ava pushed, ready to beg on her knees if she had to. “I’ll owe you anything! I can clean your entire apartment!, or take down your trash for as long as you live here.” She decided to finalized with her offers, and Beatrice let out an annoyed sigh.

“Are you really willing to go this far to save yourself the embarrassment?” Beatrice questioned, and Ava wasn’t sure if she was making fun of her or if she was genuinely curious.

“Yes!” Ava answered, too sure of herself. Beatrice rolled her eyes at the answer, but couldn’t hide the small smile making its way to her lips.

Ava felt a spark of hope grow in her chest at the reaction, and decided to give her the best puppy eyes she could muster.

God.

At that moment, Beatrice genuinely felt like she couldn’t say no. For some reason, this complete stranger that seemed to put all her faith in her, hoping that Beatrice was just as insane as she was and would aid her in her stupid lie, was actually managing to convince her.

Beatrice took her time to study the girl, who seemed just a couple of years younger than her and knew nothing about. Just by their first interaction, she could tell the girl was like an open book, all of her emotions easy to label just by taking a look into her eyes. She didn’t seem like a real threat and, if she truly wanted to kidnap or harm her children in any way, Beatrice didn’t think she would be to borrow them like they were a cup of flour.

“Fine.” Beatrice stated, and Ava let out a relieved yelp, jumping around to celebrate her small victory.

It could be good to get to know her neighbors anyways.

“Really?” Ava asked, buzzing with energy.

“Yes, but with one condition.” Ava became serious all of a sudden, ready to obey whatever this woman said as long as it would spare her the embarrassment of being caught in a lie. “You have come to our apartment, and I get to stay.” Beatrice stated firmly.

“What?” Ava frowned, slightly confused. “What’s the point of babysitting if their mom is here?”

“I can just stay in Oli’s room.” Beatrice answered, getting a puzzled look from Ava. “The baby.” She clarified, regretting her decision already.

“Ok, yeah. Sounds fair.“ Ava nodded, and for the first time since she got there, she caught a glimpse of Beatrice’s apartment.

Unlike hers, it was spotless, furnished with simple furniture in white and grayish tones. Beatrice gestured for her to come in, allowing Ava a full few of the apartment. Despite most of it being grey and white, the place felt warm and homey, with the evening sunlight shining through the windows and a couple of scattered, colorful toys in the fluffy grey rug of the living room.

“When is your ex coming?”

“Shit.” Ava muttered, as she checked the time on her phone.

“Language.” Beatrice scolded, and Ava had to bite her tongue to keep herself from giggling.

“Sorry. He said they’ll be here in 20 minutes.” She answered sheepishly.

“That’s not a lot of time.” For some reason, Beatrice seemed to be worried about her, even if she clearly disapproved of the entire plan. “You should hurry and get my kid to like you if you want this to work.” Ava was momentarily shocked at how invested Beatrice sounded, but didn’t hesitate to follow her to the kitchen.

“Willow.” Beatrice called as they entered, and Ava was met by wide brown eyes staring at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The little girl stood up, her pigtails swaying from side to side as she ran to meet them at the door, her bangs slightly disheveled. Her hair was a lot darker than Beatrice’s and her skin paler, but otherwise they looked quite alike.

“This is Ava, our neighbor.” Beatrice introduced, and Willow extended a hand for her to shake, just like her mother. Ava shook it gently, giving the girl a smile as she introduced herself.

“I’m Willow!” She replied with excitement that Ava didn’t hesitate to mirror.

“It’s such a pretty name! What were you doing there, Willow?” Ava said pointing at the kitchen table, and after some hesitation the girl dragged her by the hand she was still holding to show her.

“I was coloring the animal book auntie Cam got me.” She sat back down, and Ava stood next to her, appreciating Willow’s attempt at staying within the lines.

“Willow, “ Beatrice voice echoed from behind the pair, making them both turn around with wide, attentive eyes. “Would you like Ava to play with you for a little while?” The young girl furrowed her eyebrows, trying to push her bangs aside.

“Why?” She asked innocently. Beatrice knelt down in front of her daughter, fixing her messy bangs for her.

“Well, since Ava lives next door, I thought it would be nice if you get to know her, don’t you think?” Willow nodded, because everything her mom said made sense; most of the time. Beatrice gave her a smile and gestured for Ava to sit on the chair next to Willow, while she sat in the one across from them.

Though the little girl was quite shy and closed off at first, taking hesitant glances up to her mom after she spoke, it didn’t take long for her to warm up to Ava. She always thought it was a lot easier to talk to children rather than adults, and really enjoyed taking part on their own little world.

“You’re doing it wrong!” Willow giggled as Ava colored outside of the drawing instead of inside, which was absolutely on purpose, and not because she got distracted by her small talk with Willow.

Ava felt her phone buzz, and typed a quick reply to JC before making gestures to Beatrice that she needed to go.

“Willow,” Beatrice spoke, gentle as ever but still commanding all of the little girl’s attention. “Would you like to help Ava with a game?” Willows eyes went wide at the mention of a game, going from her mother to Ava as she nodded excitedly.

“What is it?”

“Ava is playing pretend with a couple of friends, and they’re coming to see her.” The girls mouth formed an ‘o’ that Ava couldn’t help but mirror. “She’s pretending to be taking care of you while I’m gone.”

“But… you’re here.” Willow frowned, her eyes going from Ava to Beatrice in search of an answer.

“That’s why we are pretending I’m not here.” Beatrice explained patiently.

“So you’re in the game too?” Beatrice nodded, and Willow copied her, seeming to understand. “What does the winner get?” She asked, a confident smile on her face.

“Do you like waffles?” Ava asked, and if she noticed the angry look Beatrice shot her, she chose to ignore it. Willow let out a happy yelp, standing from her chair and jumping up and down.

“Willow,” Beatrice called, and the girl jumped all the way to her. “Remember, to win the game, you have to stay with Ava and her friends, and pretend I’m not here, capisce?”

“Capisce.” The little girl replied, making a motion of taking off a hat.

Before Ava could comment on their vocabulary they heard the door bell ring, and Ava felt her heart shoot up to her throat. Beatrice just gave her a reassuring nod before disappearing into the small hallway.

“Let the games begin.” Ava said to Willow solemnly after hearing the door of the room click.

###

The game lasted a little over 20 minutes, seeing that JC had made a dinner reservation for them and was really just stopping by.

It was nice to see him, Ava admitted, even if it was awkward at first, the conversation managed to flow nicely just like before they dated. She even managed to make small talk with his new girlfriend, who was really sweet and allowed their conversation to go uninterrupted by engaging with Willow and her Lego tower.

As soon as the door behind them closed, Ava let out a sigh of relief, realizing it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. It was nice, actually, and it gave her a weird sense of closure to see JC after so long and meet as friends.

“I win!” Willow chanted, jumping through the living room as Beatrice came out of the room, holding Olivia in her arms.

Ava gave Willow a triumphant high five and a bright grin to Beatrice, who seemed both surprised and relieved that it’d actually worked.

“You didn’t have to bribe her you know?” Beatrice whispered, seeing the little girl run to the kitchen in anticipation of her prize.

“I kinda did.” Ava giggled, cooing at the baby in Beatrice’s arms. “I had to bribe you too.” She added with a wink.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Ava to hide the light blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything, by the way.” Beatrice said, after putting Olivia down on her chair. She opened the fridge to take out the ingredients for the waffles, while Willow searched for the largest pot she could find to make the mix. “You just… owe me one?” Beatrice said tentatively, feeling her heart warm at the sight of Ava’s bright smile.

So, Beatrice found herself spending the rest of the evening with this stranger, Ava, and her old waffle maker, far more entertained than she’ll ever admit.

Though she scolded Ava more than she ever did her own child —for not measuring the ingredients, for mixing the batter so energetically it got everywhere, including Beatrice’s shirt, among other things— she couldn’t help but smile all the same, seeing Willow laugh carelessly and enjoy her tower of waffles covered in syrup.

After Olivia had eaten all of the broccoli mush that wasn’t on her clothes, and Willow had long forgotten her waffles and devoted herself to watching her favorite show in the living room, Ava took it as her cue to leave.

Beatrice couldn’t hide her surprise when she came back from putting Olivia to bed, and found the kitchen as spotless as it had been.

“What? It was as only fair I cleaned up my own mess.” Ava said with a teasing smile.

“Thank you.” Beatrice said with the widest smile Ava had seen from her.

It was easy to smile around Ava, Beatrice noticed.

“Thank you.” Ava said, taking a step forward. “You really saved me from a lot of…”

“Explaining? Questions? Embarrassment?” Beatrice offered, and Ava gave her a shy nod, but her smile never seemed to leave her. Not like Beatrice wanted to.

“Yeah… thanks.” Ava said as she walked out the kitchen, waffle maker held firmly between her hands.

“Willow, say bye to Ava.” Beatrice called once they reached the door and, despite how entranced the little girl seemed by the colorful cartoons in front of her, she ran up to Ava and almost tackled her with a hug. Gently, Ava wrapped her arms around the little girl who mumbled something unintelligible.

“Can Ava come back to play?” Willow asked Beatrice after separating herself from Ava, her tiny hand still clutching Ava’s shirt.

“You should ask her, Lou.” Beatrice placed a gentle hand on the girls hair, staring down at her with so much love Ava felt her heart melt.

“Can you come back to play?” Willow asked her, lightly pulling Ava’s shirt.

“Of course!” Ava promised, shooting an anxious look at Beatrice to confirm she was actually ok with that that. “I’ll see you around, ok?” She said, messing up the little girl’s hair with endearment.

“Bye!” Willow waved, and Ava mirror her, but aimed her wave at the girl’s mother instead.

“Bye, Ava.” Beatrice said, offering her a final, polite smile before closing the door.

Ava let out a sigh, her chest filled with warmth and contempt and hope of seeing Beatrice, and her kids, again.

[iamthegodofdestruction]

[zhimi2]

@ghostknifeweek week Day 4 - Touch! <33

Based on one of my FAVORITE ghostknife fanfics of all time!

Sorry to make you wait @mireammmmmmmm ;)

[danime25]

Masterlist

From now on this is where I'll link my fics. If you find something on my ao3 that you want on here, just lmk.

RYGOS CHARACTERS

Ken:

Ken Seeking Barbie: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

He's just Ken. Looking for his Barbie out there in the real world. Who knew you could find someone on Craigslist? Ken certainly didn't.

Whatta Man: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

After a year together, Ken has been living happily with his Barbie girl, and nothing was going to change that for Ken.

I'm Just Ken (And That's More Than Enough): ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

Ken had it all. A long term long distance low commitment girlfriend that he adored, and now he was about to be the breadwinner with a degree in his hands!

Cherry Pie: ao3- Ken x Reader- +18

As punishment for Patriarchy©, President Barbie had given him a choice. Either he had to reap what he had sown and become a subservient little thing or leave Barbieland forever.

Sierra Six:

Someone To Watch Over Me: ao3- Sierra Six x Reader- +18

Six had done everything right up until this point. Everything he did was in Claire's best interest. Who would have thought that he'd risk it all for a barista?

You Had Me At Soup: ao3- Sierra Six x Reader- T for Teen

While in the Sierra program, Six never got sick. Now that he was adapting to civilian life with Claire and the woman he roped in to play Claire's mom, he seemed to be down with a bug of some kind.

Holland March:

Sweater: ao3- Holland March x Reader- +18

Holland wanted to spend a night out with his girl. She had other plans.

Break Your Dad's Back: ao3- Holland March x Reader- +18

Chiropractors were becoming the hot thing for the stars in Los Angeles. Not that he was a star. After hearing from Janet about the miracle that was chiropractors, Holland March just had to try it out for himself.

Give Me The Night: ao3- Holland March x Jackson Healy- +18. COLLAB WITH @drivinmeinsane

Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when March finally pushes his fellow detective too far.

Don't Go Breaking My Heart: ao3- Holland March x Jackson Healy- 18+ COLLAB WITH @drivinmeinsane

Even during the most wonderful time of the year, Holland March can't help but be clumsy. A stressful hospital trip to set the detective's re-fractured arm leads an unfortunate revelation about his relationship with Jackson Healy. Part two of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone)

Richard Haywood:

Want You To Want Me: ao3- Richard Haywood x Justin Pendleton- M for Mature

Richard was tired of the girls. Girls at school looking at him, asking for his number at lunch... not when he had his eyes set on only one person. And he only wanted the other's eyes on him too.

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

ANGUS SAMPSON CHARACTERS

RAY JENKINS:

Ain't That A Kick: ao3- Ray Jenkins x F!Reader- +18

Gavin plays a trick on Ray one night after drinks. Ray gets a little bit more than he bargained for.

ORGANIC MECHANIC:

Something So Right: ao3- The Organic Mechanic x F!Reader +18

Both of them knew that their love wasn't allowed, but that didn't stop them.