#not finishing it would be such a disservice to all the work i put into plotting and planning it

[ashtcnirwin]

🌻

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! may i please order a millionaire shortcake with a side of mocha coffee, served by dark!lando norris for verstappen!reader after zandvoort? thank you so so much ♡♡♡

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? the bakery is open! (yay), there are tons of items from choose from and i am so thankful for everyone who has sent me things! i am currently working through some of the older prompts! so thank you to those who sent orders weeks ago, i am slowly getting through them <3

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + mocha coffee: breeding kink served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, post!zandvoort gp, dirty talk/degrading language, mean!lando, doggy style, chokehold

when you saw lando sail past the finish line multiple seconds ahead of your brother, you felt your stomach drop. this was max's to win, race after race the gap between him and lando was getting smaller and smaller. but, it wasn't just your brother losing out on another world championship, it was what lando called "the icing on the cake".

he beat your brother, and afterwards he got to sink into your pussy. anything lando wanted that night, he got. and winning the dutch grand prix, your brother's home race, you could only imagine what lando had in store for you tonight.

when your gaze met lando's he winked at you and you quickly turned back to your brother. your phone buzzed in your pocket and you felt a tightness in your throat. it was going to be a long night.

if max knew what you and lando got up to in the off-hours of racing. he would probably kill lando. you've seen max get aggressive with a number of drivers, even before formula one. in fairness you carried that aggressiveness too. stubborn, assertive, bordering on mean. you had an ex-boyfriend say it was the 'lion's blood', but you proved to be too much for him. lando made you into a kitten. gone were the claws and fangs, with him you were mewling, nipping at his hands rather than chewing into flesh.

it was maybe why you kept coming back.

you stood in the mirror of lando's hotel room. you knew you should be with your family right now. but instead you ended up with the winner of the race. most would've ran by now, hidden away in the hopes that lando wouldn't sniff you out.

"he could've put me in anything, but, why this." you dropped your shoulders, "fuckin' orange." to call what lando gave you as lingerie would be a disservice to the people who carefully craft such underwear. lando put you in something a porn star would wear, barely held together with thread and lace. the icing on the cake was the temporary tattoo on your thigh close to your pussy that was of the number four. lando's number. and you knew it would be a bitch to get off in the morning.

there was a knock at the door and you said, "relax, lando." before you took one last deep breath before you turned away from the mirror and headed out of the bedroom. lando's smile dropped at the sight of you. before he could say anything you said, "why did you pick orange. i look bad in orange."

lando picked his jaw up off the floor and went to you, a slight sway to his step as he closed the gap between you two. he rested his hands on your hips while you crossed your arms. he looked at you and smiled with those dazzling teeth of his. he said, "well because of mclaren."

"right, right. and it has nothing to do with the dutch at all." you get his gaze leveled with him. and his smile only grew.

"a coincidence." he said, heat in his tone, "you're just over thinking things. you know i don't like it when you think too much." his words made you run painfully hot. you had to give lando credit, he knew exactly how to get under your skin. he loved when you were stupid, dumb enough for him.

you made a face and he pulled you in for a hot kiss, one hand on the back of your neck. you squirmed against him and clung to the front of his t-shirt. the kiss was hot. it was heated in a way that you never had with anyone else. since you met lando, fucking other men bored you. you weren't a couple, this wasn't a relationship. this was mutually assured destruction as you pulled away from him.

"i was expecting worse from you. orange lingerie and a temporary tattoo, that seems tame for you." you remarked as you played with one of the straps of the bra. you could name on one hand all of the intense situations that lando had put you in.

from sex in a car that didn't have tinted windows on a side street in italy, to the time you went to the sex club in switzerland, and especially that time you has dinner with his family while there was a vibrator slipped into your aching cunt.

he tilted his head to the side and shrugged, "as much as i love torturing you, babygirl. i thought we'd keep it close to home, close together. as much as i would've loved to fuck you with the bed hitting the wall to your brother's room, i thought this was better." he cupped your breasts.

you groaned, "enough about my brother." you were soon pulled into the bedroom. lando had enough kindness left in him to fuck you on a mattress. there had been times you were left with rug burns in places where there should never be rug burns.

you got into the king sized bed and looked at him as he started to undress. your rubbed your thighs together and braced yourself on your arms. your body was so exposed to him. you knew he was hungry for you. just like he was hungry for the prize.

"fuck." he groaned, his cock was painfully hard. the tip a deep red and leaking thick pre-cum. his face more pink than usual as he got into the bed with you and rubbed his cock up against your thigh. the kisses grew hotter as you ended up on your stomach and totally nude. you could already feel the rush of pleasure throughout your body.

"lando." you groaned, "it's not fair that you can fuck this good. you deserve to suck at sex." your back arched a little further and lando smacked your ass.

"i love when you just shut up, beautiful. you're meant to sit there be pretty. guess that's why your brother looks that way, you took all the good looks. but because of that, you need to learn to shut the fuck up." he groaned as he rubbed his achy cock up against your ass, "seen, not heard." it was all dirty talk and it made you brain spark with pleasure. he had such a grip on you, he could degrade you every way and you'd still let him fuck you.

"fuck you, lando." you groaned. you tensed up as he slammed his cock into you. not caring about takin ghis time. you needed to be fucked right now. fuck some sense into you. your little yapping mouth needed to be quiet for a while. just while lando was feeling the high of his win.

you shuddered, "fuck. lando." your hips were raised more as lando pressed more of his weight against you. his cock filled you in a painful way when he took little time to prep you. tonight was his night, he didn't have to prep you.

he hissed through a tense jaw as he fucked you with little abandon. the bed shifted under you from the force he was fucking you with. he felt something heavy in his chest, he felt the sexual pull towards you. he needed you deeply, carnally. he needed to ruin you for any other man. maybe it was a possessive drive, but it kept him coming back for you.

"if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." he choked out, he could feel the hammering in his head as he rutted against you.

"shut the fuck up." you groaned as you gripped the pillows under your face. you clawed into the fabric and groaned, "shut up, shut up, shut up!" you wanted to throw the pillow at him.

it only spurred lando on as he fucked you with heavy thrusts. he eventually grabbed you by the arms and pulled them back using it as a way to bounce you on his achy cock. you whined a little louder as he said, "maybe i should get you pregnant. finish in your tonight, make a big fuckin' mess between your legs and ship you back to your dear, older brother. then a month passes and you have to tell him that you're pregnant. he's going to lose it." he pulled you against him tighter as his cock remained buried inside of you. your cunt was nice around his cock and it made him feel amazing all over.

"shit no." you whined.

lando laughed, "oh c'mon, be my wife? how does that sound, steal you from right under you brother's nose. he'd never know what hit him." his pace became quicker and you were seeing stars. reason left your brain and your core throbbed.

you whimpered and lando continued his rapid movements. there was little space for you to breath during his thrusts. you felt your heart in your throat as he fucked the words out of your head. you whimpered and whined. your noises were music to his ears.

"lemme make you a mama, beautiful. let me get you nice and pregnant." his words curled in your brain and you were left feeling on cloud nine, "you'd raise 'em so well. be such a good mother to them." his voice grew tight as the need to finish grew.

he fucked you, letting your arms drop in favor of your hips. the soft part of you that he loved the bruise. he bullied his cock into your achy pussy. the idea of getting you pregnant made him move against you faster. he could feel the race in his pulse as he fucked you. you with all the aches and pains of pregnancy, carrying his child. he only turned him on greatly. make you his.

you came first, your body betrayed you. you arched your back and near-yelled into the pillows. you hissed, "fuck!" lando continued his brutal pace. he fucked you with a fever that made your eyes roll back a little. there was no escaping lando norris.

"that's it, angel. that's it." he said with near-softness as he rocked his hips against you. he fucked you and then he finished inside of you, even tilted your hips at an angle that made sure it would stay inside of you. you whined a little as he pulled out. he gave your ass one last slap. you were near brain dead on the bed and your breathing was heavy. lando watched you, laid beside you with his hand on your left ass cheek. when you eventually fell asleep, you were curled up on your side and didn't notice when lando shifted in the bed and got out. if his phone wasn't on silent you would've hear the shudder of the camera on his phone.

he sent a photo of your face pressed against the pillows, he wasn't sending your nudes to your brother (your brother's teammate on the other hand). he sent the message to max, "better luck next time, mate. will bring her back before breakfast ;)" <3

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (6/?)

(Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7. Also on AO3)

Robin moved to attack the other people within the Cathedral. They were quickly chased off into a portal and when he whirled around, his heart lurched into his throat as he watched Nightwing fight against the Joker.

Well, it was more of a one-sided smack down, but it was still pretty bad.

Nightwing was going to kill him!

Robin moved to intercept him, opening his lips to call out, when something soft brushed against his mouth.

Robin froze. He paused, feeling as though a hand was covering his mouth and arms were hugging him.

No, not hugging him.

They were holding him back.

Robin took this moment to watch Nightwing’s back as he swung his fist at the Joker’s face over and over again.

Then he turned to the metahuman that was still putting up the shield.

He tilted his head and a million possibilities flew through his mind as he figured out what to do.

The feeling of being hugged (held down, restrained, kept back) was still there, but the feeling was gentle, like a plea.

Robin had always been loyal.

(And all Robins loved the stars and the sky.)

And so Robin didn’t move.

Robin stayed behind and watched as Nightwing beat the Joker to a pulp. He was beaten so badly that his face was unrecognizable and he was twitching and silent, blood gushing from wounds as Nightwing screamed and raged.

Robin did not watch, only keeping an eye on the metahuman with the shield.

He looked over as Nightwing’s eyes flickered red and he knew it was the influence of a star on him that made him continue to pound the Joker’s face like a meat tenderizer to a steak, rather than stop and catch his breath.

Robin looked up and out the window, where Gotham’s cloudy skies circled the city.

Did the stars wish for this?

He wondered if the stars were going to make him turn to the dark side, and then he thought of the stars and their glowing kindness, and came to the conclusion that this was obviously a one time thing.

The stars were not evil. They did not deliberately wish for pain and suffering for others. They were neutral forces who loved and cared for their Robins and the Earth and it was a disservice to think they would stoop so low as to hurt their Robins to accomplish whatever goal they could’ve had.

They clearly hated the Joker just as much as the Robins did for what he did to Jason.

They could barely do anything by themselves.

It was only normal that they used Nightwing’s hand to deal out Justice.

After mentally justifying the stars’ actions, Robin clenched his fists and closed his eyes, turning away from the scene where Nightwing was beating the Joker to death, for their sake and for Jason’s sake. The sound of a hard fist meeting skin continued to echo in his ears until it stopped.

When Nightwing’s screams turned into whimpers and pitiful sobbing, and the sound of fighting halted, Robin opened his eyes and approached him.

“Nightwing.”

He touched his arm and watched as a dazed realization crossed over Nightwing’s tear streaked face.

Guiltily, Robin reached over and hugged him, trying to warm them both up with their shared body heat. He despised how he cowardly stayed behind until Nightwing finished the deed and started crying, but this was the best decision he could make.

The Joker needed to die.

“… Tim? You’re alive?”

Robin nodded once and then looked back down at the cooling corpse of the Joker.

“We have to hurry. I bet Batman is already looking for you! We have to hurry and hide the body.”

Nightwing seemed to move on autopilot as Robin guided him through hiding the Joker’s dead body. It was almost disturbing how efficiently they worked together to hide it, but by the end, Robin didn’t care anymore.

He was more worried about Nightwing, who looked dazed and distracted.

They poured a dissolving agent over the bloodstains and Robin mopped up the bubbling mess with his destroyed cape before throwing it away. Nightwing was so out of it, that Robin handled the rest, efficiently putting away the evidence like nothing had ever happened. When he came back, Nightwing was sitting in the pews.

The metahuman with the shielding ability was tied up and unconscious on the floor.

Batman and their associates were probably going to storm inside soon.

Noticing Nightwing’s blank stare at him, Robin gave him a small smile.

“I’m really alive, I promise.”

Robin approached Nightwing and then crawled into his arms and sat there, squirming and trying to find a comfortable position.

It took a moment for Nightwing’s brain to reboot but he looked down curiously as Robin tried to hug him.

“… what’s up, Timmy?” He asked.

“Code names,” he said sternly.

Nightwing just stared at him emptily. Robin gave him a small, careful smile. He suddenly felt inexplicably nervous and wanted to explain himself.

“You’re freaking out. Physical touch can bring a person out of dissociation,” then he paused and added hurriedly, “and if you’re hugging me, we can convince B that you found me without the Joker and I was able to calm you down. We’ll say that you chased off the Joker and I held you back, so if we hug, it looks more convincing and—“

Nightwing huffed a laugh and then wrapped an arm securely around Robin.

“Thanks, Tim,” Nightwing murmured, burying his nose in his hair.

Robin was silent, but eventually, he whispered back, “No problem.”

Nightwing held him closely.

Then he said, “I actually killed him.”

“And I hid the body,” Robin replied immediately. “We share the blame, so don’t beat yourself up.”

However, Nightwing’s breaths came out fast again and he was sounding hysterical.

“H-He won. The Joker won! I killed him and I let him win and—“

“Nightwing!”

He startled and looked at Robin as his breath hitched in sobs. Guilt immediately grabbed at Robin’s chest and constricted his lungs.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said. “I should’ve stopped you and did it myself. At least then— maybe I can make Jason proud.”

“Tim, no! It’s my fault— I should’ve been on Earth so I could’ve been there while Ja— I should’ve been there! And now that I’ve killed the Joker… this is my fault. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have been here at all. I thought you were dead and…”

Robin felt touched and even more ashamed of himself.

Nightwing was tearing himself apart over this, while Robin had stood back to watch him kill someone. He had killed the Joker not only for the people in their lives, but also for Tim. It had been Robin who had made Nightwing take a life.

For a moment, Robin acknowledged the apathy within him about the stolen life of a man and when his mark burned with a silent warning from his star at his self-deprecating thoughts, he inhaled a breath of air and exhaled.

Robin had not taken on the mantle because he was kind like Jason. He did not take on the mantle because he was brave like Dick.

He had taken the mantle because it had been what Batman needed and it had been rejected by Dick.

(Although he himself felt selfish for being Robin, he also felt like if he ever voiced this, his star would probably make him trip over a rock.)

“Nightwing, it’s okay. You did us all a service by taking care of the blight in our lives. By getting rid of the Joker, you helped me, and Jason, and Barbara, and everyone else in Gotham too.”

“B-But I lost… I lost by killing him! The Joker won!” Nightwing whimpered.

“We didn’t lose, Nightwing,” Robin sighed.

How was he supposed to comfort a distraught hero again?

“But we did! I killed him! That means that I lost—“

Robin groaned and turned within his hug to hold his face. Nightwing shut up as Robin aggressively squished his face, looking into his eyes.

“Don’t you get it? We may have lost the battle, but we won the war. The Joker may have won this one time, but what about who else is winning? The citizens of Gotham are winning. The world is winning. Barbara is winning.”

Robin’s voice softened as he moved his hands down to squeeze Nightwing’s shoulder, trying to convey sincerity and seriousness to him. “Jason is winning. And so is his star.”

Nightwing swallowed and looked down at his hands, once bloodied but now cleaned up.

Robin stared at him. “I think that’s why the stars helped us.”

Nightwing looked up. “What?”

“The cluster was helping us. They wanted the Joker to die. That’s why they didn’t stop you, only me. Because the Joker killed one of their siblings too.” He paused and tilted his head. “Couldn’t you tell?”

Nightwing paused. “Are you saying that my star made me kill the Joker?”

Robin looked at him with pity. “They didn’t make you do anything. They just released some of your inhibitions. And maybe your star was the one who made you angrier than normal, but they didn’t make you do anything.”

Like all gods, a being above mortals could not truly be blamed for a human’s actions.

Their existence may have had some influence on humans, but they could not be blamed.

Nightwing clenched his eyes shut and then held his left hand (the one with his star’s mark, Robin realized) to his chest, curling up. He started crying again and Robin bit his lip, guiltily hugging him again.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t blame you. No one is going to blame you, okay? You’re okay, Nightwing. I promise. You’re still a hero. You’re my hero.”

Nightwing sniffed and then whispered, “What about Batman?”

“I’ll take care of it. Just trust me.”

Nightwing nodded, eyes closed as tears fell from his face again and Robin held him close once more. He idly thought about how nice it was to hug someone and for one brief, delusional moment, he wondered if Jason had a comforting touch as well.

Oh well. He probably wouldn’t ever get to feel it.

(Somewhere in the universe, the Cluster started laughing.)

The door opened and Batman, Huntress, and Spoiler strode through, looking panicked. However they calmed down once they saw the two sitting in the pews. Spoiler immediately took hold of the still unconscious and tied up metahuman and took him outside. The other two approached them.

Batman looked around, inspecting everything. His eyes trained on the floor for a second longer than necessary, but Robin knew it was futile. He had cleaned everything expertly.

Batman’s gaze snapped to Nightwing, who was still wrapped around Robin like a tearful octopus, but he addressed Robin in the next sentence.

“Where’s the Joker?” Batman asked and Robin met his white eyes steadily. It almost sent a shiver down his spine, but the warmth of his mark comforted him.

Spoiler came back and through the mask, he could sense her worried and concerned gaze on him.

It gave him an extra boost as he responded calmly.

“I got here on my own after I escaped Killer Croc. When I got here, Nightwing was beating up the Joker but I was able to stop him. After that, he had… a bit of a panic attack and while I calmed him down, the Joker was able to escape.” Robin looked down, fidgeting with his gloves. “I’m sorry. I let him get away.”

His insides writhed and burned from lying to Batman, but Robin needed to save Gotham, and Nightwing was essential to that. If the Batman arrested Nightwing or drove him away, there would be no telling what could happen to the city without Nightwing’s soaring presence.

“… is the Joker dead?”

“I believe not,” Robin said. “The Joker is like a cockroach. He’ll survive anything we can throw at him. He was able to get away, and there was Warp here too, so there’s a high chance that was how he was able to escape.”

Nightwing whimpered and clutched at him.

Robin met Spoiler’s and Huntress’ sympathetic gazes and explained softly, “He’s really freaked out. He… he thought I died, right?”

Spoiler nodded but tried to cheer everyone up. “But it’s okay! At least you’re alright!”

The Batman remained silent.

Robin looked at him with big, wide eyes. “Batman…? I’m sorry that I let the Joker go. I just— I guess I forgot about Warp because I was worrying too much about Nightwing.”

There was another moment of silence.

Huntress elbowed Batman, who flinched before immediately bending down to Robin’s level.

“… it’s okay. Are you alright, Robin?”

Robin looked into Batman’s eyes and then looked down at his hands, clean from any traces of blood. Nightwing clutched him tighter.

He nodded.

Batman looked down at his waist then. He paused stiffly. “Where’s your utility belt?”

Robin replied naturally, “I lost it when I was fighting against Killer Croc. That’s why my uniform is all torn up too.”

Huntress and Spoiler both glared at Batman, who finally moved from his statuesque position. Inwardly, Tim breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he and Nightwing got away.

Batman patted his shoulder awkwardly and then said, “Let’s go home.”

Robin looked up, a little surprised before he quickly nodded.

He pulled Nightwing along and the two of them followed the others. Spoiler immediately strode over to his side, looking him over herself.

“How are you, Boy Wonder?” She asked.

Robin smiled wanely.

Honestly, he felt better than expected. His mind, however, was racing compared to his casual appearance.

He wondered what she would say if he knew that he had helped Nightwing kill a man. He wondered if she would react badly, maybe even slapping him across the face for letting a man die. He wondered if she would tell Batman and then he would be back to regular old Tim, but disgraced and rejected.

His mark burned on his side.

He rubbed at the mark with a hand as he smiled.

“… I’ll be okay,” he said.

After all, he had the stars on his side.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Gaslight gatekeep girlboss Tim Drake, let’s go!!!

I don’t really know the Huntress that well, so this’ll probably be the last time you’ll ever see her…

I read the comics and the interview where one of the authors said that if the comic was able to end like how they wanted to, the Joker would’ve died and someone named Rancor would’ve been the new Joker.

I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t happen lmao. I would not know how to move the story forward bc 1) idk who tf Rancor is, 2) I don’t even know DC that well, I only know the Batfamily 😭, 3) this story is about the Robins, idk anybody else

Anyways,,, yes! Ding Dong, the Joker’s dead!

The stars did influence their decisions a lot, bc in their eyes, the Joker also took away Jazz so they hate him.

This fic was originally going to be wayyyy darker with more emotional manipulation and gaslighting from Tim but I was like,,, no. Although I love me some dark fluff, I don’t think you guys the readers would appreciate too much of it, so I toned it down. However, I did want to include a lot of my hcs on Tim. To me, he’s very selfless and soldierly, but also very calculating and easy to go rogue.

Does Batman suspect something? Yes. Is he going to find out? Nah. Will anybody else know? If they become a Robin, yeah. Otherwise? Nope.

Next up, Stephanie!! (It’ll come sooner or later, but I’m busy with school rn)

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "The Target's Second Son" (part 2)

Part 1 here

Previous episodes analyses

After Damian rejects Anya's apology, Twilight reverts his focus back to Plan A: making Anya an Imperial Scholar through good grades.

And so he starts this chapter with Twilight eyes, too focused on having Anya understand fractions to realize that it's too difficult a subject for her to begin with.

Yor suggests they take a break, but he insists, and his eyes keep their serious look.

And they even narrow further when he warns Anya that she won't get to watch Spy Wars if she doesn't finish her homework.

Feeling stressed, Anya runs to her bedroom. Loid follows her, intent on pressuring her to continue studying, until Yor tells him he shouldn't do that. Narrow (though a little softer in the anime) eyes as he tells her that Anya needs to study hard to become an Imperial Scholar.

Yor asks him if he believes that's what Anya wants... and that exposes him.

He's been too focused on the mission, and in his defense Anya has been amazingly accepting of everything, so now he realizes how much he's been actually pushing her. That she doesn't prioritize good grades the way he does, so she doesn't understand why he's doing what he's doing. His eyes stay narrowed in the manga, but the anime gives him a bit of a sadder expression.

Yor apologizes for interfering in his parenting methods, and he smiles at her in a show of registering her message.

He thanks her for offering her view. He's back on Loid Forger mode. This is a normal moment of a small child getting tired with homework, not the end of the world. Yor's words help him remember he needs to approach Anya with understanding, and not panic.

And so, they make her cocoa as a peace offering, but she doesn't respond when they call her. We still get Loid eyes, though they narrow in reaction to Anya's resistance, not in suspicion.

"Loid eyes" are still on, as he asks Yor about her experience in helping Yuri study. I find it interesting here because this could be an important moment in him learning how to navigate his own methods of helping Anya with her homework, but he just looks... invested. He's learning too, here, not as a spy obtaining information, but as a human gaining life knowledge.

Yor tells him that he can motivate Anya to study, the same way she had motivated Yuri in the past, and he looks down with an uncertain smile. No "Twilight eyes" to show he sees this moment from a cold and detached standpoint, and no "Loid eyes" to show he's pretending to be confident about this. In a way, he's exposing his lack of knowledge and experience to Yor.

The anime gives a little more focus on his reflection on the teacup, just as the soundtrack switches to the "teacups" track. We get what the rules of this post series would call "sad eyes".

Twilight's mind fills with his shortcomings as a father in the mission and he starts despairing. His face turns into an uncharacteristically sad and lost expression until Yor tells him that Anya loves who he is already.

And... I feel I'd do both manga and anime a disservice, if I didn't put his entire change in expression here.

Genuine surprise, to genuine relief... to getting himself back together. Judging by his reaction after, as he quickly turns to Twilight eyes, this seems to be the moment he remembers that his job is a slow, arduous work of becoming someone else, not to immediately turn into someone else.

He thanks Yor for her input and reassures her that it is her place to give such input, but I don't think his eyes show he was being duplicitous in any way here. I'd say he was more focused than anything else.

Back to business. He is a professional spy, after all, he needs to focus back on that.

He does, however, look genuinely thankful for Yor's comment. Sometimes all he needs is affirming words from someone not in the loop. Yor sees how high Anya thinks of him, and she simply reminds him of that, and that this is something everyone can see. To him, that means that the mission is going smoothly.

Judging by his expression here, though, and his comment to himself in the end, I do tend to think he's also influenced by the fact that a little girl feels loved. I mean, the very reason he continued Operation Strix as originally planned was because he didn't want to abandon Anya the way her other foster families had, so despite what he may think, there is a lot of emotional investment here. You can't tell me a part of him wasn't relieved here to know that he was directly ensuring a child's emotional safety. It's just that he can safely keep an emotional distance from the situation because he's certain Anya only loves "Loid Forger", so while he's relieved, he's not overjoyed with paternal love, you know what I mean?

Slightly narrowed eyes when he knocks on Anya's door again, apologetic and willing to compromise with her watching her show first and then studying. I think it's a good balance of him being careful as a spy, and showing his "negotiating parent" face.

Like, think about how all this time, he hasn't shown quite a lot of affection as a father to her. He did pick her up in his arms with a bright smile when she passed first the written exam and then the interview for Eden, but there's no plethora of smiles, terms of endearment, or hugs from him towards her. So maybe he knows he can't really be like "uwu I'm sowwy" nor like "yay I'm happy now you can watch your show and then I'll help you with those fractions :D".

I think by now it's become a little apparent, how he's not using over-willing "Loid eyes" a lot with Anya. Anya's high levels of intuition have thrown him off, and he's realized that this weapon of his is useless against her - she'll immediately see through it. For now he chalks it up to him not knowing a lot about children, but I'm curious to see if he'll notice how other kids can fall for his fake bright smile, and then suspect that maybe Anya is way more intuitive than the average kid... and why that may be.

As Anya doesn't answer when he knocks, he enters her room to find her asleep over her books. He matter-of-factly says she'll catch a cold if she sleeps like that, but then hears as she mutters in her sleep about how she wants to do good on her tests for him.

And through his calm expression (and the blush that the anime once again omitted) he shows how surprised he is by her initiative, but also how he feels a little proud of her.

It's interesting how much he shows with them around, especially Anya. The nature of this mission allows him to open up, after all.

Then, with the SOFTEST OF VOICES THAT I'M STILL NOT OVER, he picks her up and says he'll record the Spy Wars episode for her.

Like I'm sorry but how fucking cute is this. My dude is completely gone. He didn't even have to promise to record her show. He really did mean it when he said "You can watch your show and then study".

A small "WTF" expression as Anya is apparently having a dream of Yor going full Thorn Princess on Papa,

a classic moment of "dad looks at his sleeping child" moment added by the anime,

as he finally closes the shutters back into Twilight eyes. Cause now he's reaffirming that Anya thinks of him as a wonderful father... and he ends up wondering what it would feel like if he had a real family.

An evening of surprisingly vulnerable moments for him. He's not ready to unpack all that, so he retreats back into himself and the security of his spy position.

(no manga spoilers please)

[fall0utmind]

MEDICAL LEAK AU pt2

Part 1 here

Chapter 2 is up on ao3

🤍🤍

Please be advised of content warning for suicide - no descriptions but some cruel words - see ao3 for sections to skip and message me if you need to.

Feedback is always appreciated

Would you still love me if I told you my darkest secrets?

Ch 2-

~3k

They stumble through the doorway to the motorhome, Marc instantly collapsing onto the worn couch tucked into the corner. Alex has procured a blanket from somewhere and is busily tucking it around him, refusing to let Marc out of his sight. He bustles around the small kitchenette, busying himself with making some coffee.

Neither of their parents were able to attend the race this weekend. Marc doesn’t know if he is grateful for that, or not. They both knew, of course. It had been a testing time for the family, the fallout with Valentino, along with the public backlash, and Marc’s declining mental health had left him heartbroken and hopeless. After his first attempt, Marc returned to his room stripped bare. All signs of Valentino Rossi expunged whilst he was in a hospital bed; the only reminder was his broken heart. It had just made Marc cry harder at the time, Roser wrapped around him in his childhood bedroom. It had taken him many years to pick up the pieces after that, with several other falls along the way. But he takes comfort in the fact he is still here, life has beaten him down over and over; he has been kicked (literally), beaten, and spat out by both Vale and the media, but he always kept going. His family has made it out, they are safe, and he is safe. And really, that is all he can ask for.

Alex observes Marc with increasing concern. He has been on the sofa, swaddled in blankets, for 45 minutes with no signs of movement. His coffee mug is forgotten in his hands, as he stares blankly at the wall, no doubt revisiting the years that haunted them both. As much as Marc likes to pretend that he is unaffected, Alex knows that those years did lasting damage to his psyche; he has noticed in the way he acts around others, how he no longer trusts so easily, and how he seems to be acting around almost everyone except a select few people. He knows that his older brother harbours a lot of guilt for the past, thinking that he had done Alex some kind of disservice. Alex is just glad he still has an older brother.

At some point a Gresini representative knocks on the motorhome door, speaking to Alex in hushed tones. After they leave, Marc numbly listens to his brother relaying the extent of the damage. The media has found out about Marc’s suicide attempts in 2015, but no one knows the details, and it is hoped that it will stay that way. So far, no other records have been accessed, or at least not published. Legal is already working tirelessly to understand what has gone wrong, but for now there is nothing Marc can do. News has spread fast, and Marc does not doubt that by tomorrow the entire grid will know about how fucking pitiful he is. The thought makes his head hurt and his eyes water.

“You should try to get some sleep. The team are putting out a statement about respecting your privacy but for now there is nothing more we can do”.

Marc nods slowly, feeling adrift amongst all that has happened today. He rises unsteadily to his feet and shuffles to the bathroom. He flicks the switch and blinks heavily at the harsh lights which blind him. He almost doesn’t recognise the person in the reflection, with a pale face and hollow eyes. He shudders, it reminds him of a time when every mirror would render the same hideous portrait of despair every day. Marc pointedly avoids looking at his reflection again. He knows Alex won’t leave him alone tonight, fearful of the unhealed wounds the past has left which have once again been reopened. Instead, with a resigned sigh, Marc finishes in the bathroom and hauls himself into bed, Alex curling up on the other side. The position is so reminiscent of their younger years, filling him with a hollow kind of sadness. A heavy blanket of exhaustion weighs upon him, and that, alongside his brother's soothing presence, lulls him into a deep sleep.

*

Marc awakes to an empty bed and the sound of knocking on their motorhome door. He takes a moment to recentre himself. It must be around 8 am, given the way the light spills in from the window. It is Saturday morning in Misano and yesterday the entire MotoGP world discovered arguably his biggest secret. Marc isn’t sure good morning is appropriate.

The hushed whispers of two familiar voices filter in from the living area, clearly speaking softly to let Marc rest. He groans and blindly feels around for his phone, before remembering that Alex had taken it off him at some point yesterday. It was probably for the best that he didn’t know what the media were saying right now. Bastards.

He rolls out of bed, grabs a pair of sweats and the first t-shirt he sees (it is definitely Alex’s, given that it’s way too long for him) and stumbles into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee is already waiting on the counter. He has never been more grateful for his little brother and his worldly knowledge that 8 is too early for Marc. He’s a little shocked to see Aleix Espargaro sitting next to his brother on the sofa, both watching him with matching worried expressions. He would laugh at the sight of the two men mirroring each other in such a dad-coded way, if not for the current circumstances. Instead, he frowns back at them. Aleix rises to his feet, approaching Marc cautiously, giving him a chance to move away, before drawing him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

The older man holds him for some time, Marc’s head tucked into his neck. As he pulls away, Aleix’s hands come to the side of his face, holding him gently.

“Promise me you will tell me if it happens again, I do not like the thought of you in so much pain. But now I see that you have already been through it. You should never have had to do it alone, Cariño.”

His eyes are anguished but sincere throughout his speech, observing Marc with undisguised worry and affection. Marc can’t stand it and looks away once Aleix has released him, worrying his lower lip. The older man takes this as his cue, thanking Alex for his coffee, and quietly making his way over to the door, not before shooting him a concerned glance.

“You will let me know if anyone gives you shit today, I will keep an eye out for you. Look after yourself, Marc.”

And with that, he’s gone, the quiet snick of the door behind him. Marc raises an eyebrow at Alex.

“What was that?”

Alex sighs, “He is concerned about you, hermano, he has always had a soft spot for you. He is annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner.”

“I hide it well”

“I know”

*

The rest of the morning is relatively normal. The people he interacts with are evidently unsure of the acceptable conduct for this situation; Marc finds it terribly amusing, in a dark kind of way. He has decided the best course of action is to pretend nothing has happened in the twisted hope that if he ignores it, everyone else will too. He’s sure his old therapist would be delighted. The security presence in the paddock appears to have suspiciously doubled overnight. People are staring, he can feel it in the way the back of his neck prickles, but no one approaches him. He doesn’t care if they must bring in the goddamn military if that’s what it takes to prevent another PR disaster.

He makes it to the pitlane in record time, dodging all signs of human life, taking the back alleys wherever possible. He enters the rear entrance of the Gresini garage, finding his crew to check in before qualifying. He is pleased with the bike set-up from yesterday, feeling confident in the pace this weekend. On the bad days, Marc thinks he will never know the feeling of winning again, that he will never experience a champagne shower from the top step of the podium, the world chanting his name. That he will fade into irrelevance, a has-been of the sport, once Valentino Rossi’s great rival, now just another name. But this year is the closest he has come in 3 years, and he is not willing to let go without a fight, because Marc Marquez is synonymous with winning, it is his purpose and his destiny. If he is not riding, if he is not winning, he does not know who he truly is.

He watches the junior categories warm up, reminiscing on those days of his career, before the pressure and before Valentino. He is glad to see David achieving so much this season. He sees a younger version of himself in the boy and it scares him, terrified that the young Columbian will get burnt in the same way that Marc did. He vows to do everything in his power to protect him but let him grow into the world champion he is destined to be. They already training together, and Marc can see the way he is rubbing off on the teenager, he just hopes that does not become a curse.

*

The second free practice of the weekend occurs without a hitch, landing both Alex and Marc into Q2, much to the chagrin of the Italian fans (and really, could people not let it go by now?). Marc is determined not to let the recent events hinder his performance. Despite this, he is increasingly aware of his rising anxiety about facing the others on the grid. His mind is consumed by thoughts of judgement and disgust, creating pictures of his colleagues deserting him, refusing to be seen with him as in 2015. No matter how hard he tries, even after his talk with Aleix this morning, he is frantic with worry, unable to sit still.

“You will wear a hole in the floor if you do not stop soon.”

Alex appears from around the corner, watching him pace.

“We need to get ready. Are you feeling okay?”

Marc can’t face the idea of putting the younger through even more pain because of him, so he simply nods in agreement, refusing to meet the unconvinced look Alex is no doubt giving him.

He already has his leathers on, so he grabs the rest of his kit, and starts towards his crew, Alex heading in the opposite direction. He shoves down his fear and greets the people waiting for him with a plethora of fist bumps and hugs. He is grateful that his team are treating him as usual, seemingly recovered from yesterday’s shock. Some had wrapped him in a hug earlier this morning, others laying comforting hands on his shoulders, unabashedly showing their support and filling him with warmth. He holds onto that feeling as he prepares to ride, knowing a few more people are fighting in his corner.

*

Marc feels alive. The bike is singing underneath him, so responsive to him. Every move is calculated to perfection, cornering on the edge of impossible - he’s probably giving the guys in the garage a heart attack every lap. But he feels like he’s flying, whipping around the track on a bike that loves him as much as he loves it. He knows he’s putting in good times, his pace almost matching the newer Ducati, something which is the talk of the paddock at the moment. The move to a different constructor has brought a new lease of life to his career, quieting the doubts and prompting the whispers: “Marc Marquez is back”.

By the time the checkered flag falls, Marc is on top of the world. His mind wiped clear of the media, Valentino, and 2015. He doesn’t know where he placed, and it isn’t until he looks up at the timing board and sees his 93 at the top of the list, that he allows himself to grin.

Marc rides back to the garage, tailed by Alex, still grinning under his helmet. He is greeted and is greeted with a warm reception from the team, cheering as he and his brother come to a halt. He is rained in congratulations from his team, hands slapping his back and wide smiles directed at him. It is then that he spots Dovi. His old friend is standing to the side, a proud smile face. Marc has no idea what he is doing here, but he isn’t about to complain, having missed the older man in recent years. Dovi was one of the few people who had his back all those years ago, for which he is endlessly grateful. He jumps off his bike and almost straight into Dovi’s arms, uncaring of the cameras trained on the pair.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, can I not come and see my friend outperform everyone in the sport that we both love?”

Marc huffs a laugh in response, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. He knows why Dovi is truly here, despite his friend’s bullshit, but he cannot bring himself to be annoyed about his obvious weakness. It is nice to have a friend who is not Alex around. He knows affection is rolling off him in waves but simply does not care -pleased at the ease that is quick to settle between them, despite the years.

“I will be with you in a few minutes, go annoy someone else whilst we debrief”

Dovi laughs at that, making Marc grin, all teeth, in return.

Debrief is a quick affair, the team are delighted with p1, and simply want to talk about the race set-up, as well the minute areas for improvement on track. They release Marc after 20 minutes, giving him proud smiles and comforting touches as he leaves. He is once again overwhelmed by his love for the team which has re-awoken his passion for the sport which has taken but also given him so much.

A quick scan of the garage tells him Dovi has found one Alex Marquez to annoy, much to Marc’s amusement. He grabs his phone off the table (he had regained possession of it from Alex earlier) and turns it on for the first time in 12 hours, desperate to check his messages since he has 5 minutes to himself. He scrolls through his notifications.

His manager and parents have messaged, the latter asking him to call them when he has a chance, although he’s sure they have probably spoken to Alex, explaining the lack of urgency. He has a message from Casey Stoner, telling him to keep his head up and to ignore the media, although his choice of words is a little stronger. Marc lets out a startled laugh, warmed by the unexpected gesture from the older man. The next text makes him stop in his tracks, confusion bubbling inside him. It’s from an unknown number, and simply reads “Stop playing games.” A sense of unease fills Marc as he deletes the message, unwilling to entertain whoever thinks they can hide behind a screen and say what they want, he should just forget about it. The final and most recent text is from Dani. It simply reads “Tell Dovi he’s a dick for stealing my thunder. Unfair advantage, he was already in the country. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind, and Dovi’s head follows. Nosy fucker. He lets out a cackle at the text, pulling away to laugh even harder. Marc very much feels like he’s missed a joke, and he has no clue who “we” refers to. He simply replies to the chat with a thumbs up and accepts his fate of being coddled by the older riders for the rest of the weekend.

*

The pole position high doesn’t last very long. Marc and Dovi are walking back towards the motorhomes when he comes crashing back down to earth. Saturdays are always a bit chaotic at the track. But today, it feels worse than usual, with people staring and murmuring as they pass. Some of the comments are less than pleasant. Marc tries not to let it affect him, portraying a persona of indifference, no matter how much the words sting. Dovi talks lowly as they walk, his presence reassuring amidst the harsh whispers washing over them, swelling in a crescendo of cruelty.

“-he should have taken more pills”

“-can’t believe he actually did it”

“How selfish-”

“Have you seen the articles? I read that-”

From the limited information he has been given, or overheard, Marc gathers that the public reaction to the news has been mixed, to say the least. Some people are outraged by the leak and the subsequent media frenzy, destroying any sense of privacy left in Marc’s life. Others have been senselessly cruel, spewing hatred online about his mental health or even going as far as suggesting that he deserves it. Marc swallows the bile in the back of his throat, unwilling to break now. He knows he can’t let the public see his defences crumble, it will only give them more opportunity to kick him when he’s down. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice who they’re walking towards, until it’s too late.

Marc hears Valentino before he sees him, talking to Pecco in hushed tones. His rapid-fire Italian is so familiar, yet also a distant memory. He feels the way his companion stiffens as they approach the pair and senses their eyes burning into him in return. No doubt Pecco has already told the older all about Marc’s breakdown yesterday. The reminder that Valentino is once more witnessing his life falling apart is nauseating. Marc steadfastly ignores them as Dovi steers them in the right direction. A confrontation is not what he needs right now.

He doesn’t register anything is off until someone careens straight into their path, sending Marc stumbling backwards in shock. He flinches at the look of pure hatred on the fan’s face.

“You should have done it properly; you couldn’t even kill yourself correctly. The world would be a better place without you.”

Marc chokes on his breath, his eyes burning, rapidly blinking as he tries to parse the scathing words. Dovi is frozen in shock, horrified that anyone would utter such a thing. Time freezes as the people close enough to have overheard all turn to look in their direction, willing a response from Marc. Ironically, it’s Pecco who breaks the moment, face like thunder as he storms over. Marc watches in a haze as Pecco reaches them, breathing heavily and shooting a look at Dovi, prompting him to drag the Spaniard to safety. Marc distantly registers Valentino frowning over at them, a flash of unreadable emotion in his eyes as he watches Dovi tugging him away.

Marc doesn’t look back, mind too preoccupied with the stewing self-loathing in his gut and the cloud of dark thoughts in his head. As such, he doesn’t see Pecco looming over the man who spat such vicious words at him, gesturing at security for him to be removed and permanently banned. He doesn’t see the older Italian glaring at Marc and Dovi’s retreating forms, a mixture of resentment and jealousy staining his features. He does, however, hear Valentino whispering that it’s not worth it, leading a distraught Pecco away, cracking Marc’s heart clean in two, once again.

[maleficore]

It always makes me feel so ehh when people use chosen!Durge when they strictly mean this bloodthirsty cruel person because be honest, what choice did they really have? Unless you play Durge as being incredibly suicidal and unhealthily self-sacrificing, telling Bhaal they will do his bidding is for the most part a survival choice. Durge as a character doesn't know Withers will just swoop in and bend the fabric of the universe to his will to save them, they have no idea that their refusal won't be the last thing they do. So it makes perfect sense for someone who is not necessarily an Evil person to go along simply because they're scared of dying (and being tortured in the Bhaal's domain forever), but both the game and a large portion of players refuse to acknowledge it.

Chosen Durge is always the baddie, a lost cause, and while that can well enough be true for some characters to me it's just.. boring? Unless you play/write them evil from start to finish, it really falls flat. Where are the blurry lines? Where's the moral complexity? Not everything is binary, but it feels like in Durge's case everyone from the characters in-universe to a lot of people engaging with the story only believe they can be one or the other. Completely different, changed person who would rather die than to endure Bhaal's hold on them or a monster so soaked through to the bone with Bhaal's taint, even amnesia wasn't enough to save them. That's what the "redeemed" and "chosen" shorthands look like to me. Even using [alignment]!Durge is better. Someone saying they made a redeemed!Durge tells me nothing. Yeah they let Bhaal kill them, great. What are they like, though.

Ezra could very well fall under the Chosen category, but he is SO far removed from what that means in the fandom, using it for him would be doing him a disservice. I refuse to simplify him that way, he has too many layers and is too complex as a character to put him in a box like that. Even alignment does a shoddy job at summarising him to me. People don't work like that. They're often self contradictory and don't think before they act. Okay his baseline is chaotic neutral, but sometimes he borders on evil and other times he's so incredibly selfless you could call him chaotic good even. Circumstance and emotions can affect people greatly!

It really just boils down to.. PLEASE try to get out of the black hole of Larian's rushed "Oh shit we need to put a bhaalspawn origin in this" black and white narrative and see just how many galaxies there are to explore. Don't constrain yourself to the story forks they established, you're just hurting your character writing in the long run and putting a big ass sign on them that pretty much makes them get lost in the sea of all the other "redeemed" and "chosen" Durges. They might make good descriptors if you're just crafting characters to play as, but I wish we dropped them entirely. It's not OC language, it's AU language for canon characters who already had all the work done on them by writers and that people at large know well enough to tell there's more to them than that. In here it doesn't work.

And I also consider it kind of TikTok lazy and uncreative to use, but that's just me.

[fushiglow]

One year ago today, I shared the first chapter of Over the Threshold to AO3.

I vividly remember my nervous excitement, fussing over the art and the summary and the opening paragraph, carefully laying the foundations for the overarching themes I'd eventually bring full circle in chapter 11 almost a year later.

I'm proud of myself for attempting a work of this magnitude. I'm proud of myself for committing to such ambitious creative goals from the very first word. I'm proud of myself for seeing it through, too. Though we're not at the end yet, the reason I take my time with this story is the same reason I know I'll finish it: Over the Threshold is too close to me to give it anything but my all.

I often jokingly dismiss this story as "my silly little idol fic", but that does this work an enormous disservice. Writing Over the Threshold has truly been a life-changing experience for me, and one that's shown me the value of art runs even deeper than I knew.

It's enriched my life in countless meaningful ways and, to my endless joy and surprise, it's even done the same for others. This time last year, I never would have anticipated that this deeply personal story could ever resonate with other people the way it has.

One day, I'll try to put into words the impact this story has had on me and others, but for now — thank you for embracing me and my art the same way Suguru and Satoru embrace each other in their entireties ❤️

[always-is-always]

Insights come, through original content

It's definitely worth the time, to watch as much original content as possible. BIG note to self.

I've watched all four seasons of Bon Voyage, and just finished the four years of Summer Package. Lots of stuff that I have seen bits and pieces of before, in a lot of compilation videos and "analysis" videos. VERY interesting to see all of it within it's original context, in each show.

Yeah, there's a bit of Jikookery as people call it, in some of it. Most of it I had seen out of context, during my first couple of years in the fandom (when I didn't have any idea about anything). There are a few moments here and there that I haven't seen before which are primarily touches, and super subtle stuff.

The interesting thing is how people have taken so many of those moments out of context to support a story that they are presenting, in their compilations or "analysis". Yes, it can be said that other parts of the fandom have done the same thing, for the same purpose.

One of the moments from BV in Malta that everyone has seen comes to mind, here as I type. It is when they are all at a restaurant, and Jimin and Jungkook are seated across from each other. They reach out at the same time, to offer a bite of food to each other. That is a favorite clip that j-kookers love to use, to prove their theory. I mean, I do think it is cute and sweet, and I do believe that Jimin and Jungkook are together (in a closeted relationship), I just think that it's really a disservice when people leave out the other part of that scene. You know, when Jimin is then offering bites of his food to the other members, too. It wasn't just a Jimin and Jungkook thing, like is portrayed in many of the YT videos I have seen...

The other things I noted are how the editing was just so chopped up and discombobulated at times. Like When you see Jimin literally sitting down right next to Jungkook and then suddenly it is edited and next thing you see is Jimin on the opposite side of the group, not sitting where he had just sat down a second before. lol... Yeah, there's a TON of that crappy editing in all of the series and shows. I'm guessing that as they got into 2017, 2018, 2019 that they had to do a lot more editing as Jimin and Jungkook kinda started being more open with their antics. lol...

I kind of understand why people like to create those videos over on YT. There's thousands of them probably, and literally millions of viewers who like that type of thing. I was one who watched a bunch of it, as I mentioned before. It was before I understood what a lot of it was, and before I understood how much manipulation there was.

What's next on tap for me? I'm not sure. There's a ton of content still for me to make my way through. It has been enlightening to say the least. I do see the shift in the way that Jimin and Jungkook were from the early years into 2019, from what I have watched so far. There's so much there that clearly shows that they had particular types of experiences with each other, behind closed doors. I mean, anyone who has ever had a lover would see it in their energy(if you sense or see energy) and in the way that they would touch each other. It is as clear as the sun in the sky.

I can only imagine the complexities that the members had to navigate in their relationships with each other, their communication of how they felt to each other, and in working out HOW to have two members in a close intimate relationship within the group. Talk about a complicated situation. That puts it mildly. No wonder Namjoon had so many moments when they were in front of cameras, audiences, interviewing and such. No freakin' wonder.

Sorry for this long ramble..... I've just been thinking a lot about them and about what I have seen in these shows. Like I have mentioned, I hadn't seen much of the original stuff that was on Weverse, sold on DVD, or behind pay walls. I didn't actually understand what the heck "Summer Package" meant! lol... There's a TON of content that I have still to watch. This will be an ongoing thing for me, during these months while we wait for June 2025. There's probably going to be more rambles like this one, to come.... 😁💜

[starswornoaths]

3. Tempest

Post 6.0, things are changing for the Scions.

They just haven't told all of them yet. So naturally, that becomes an issue.

word count: 1,313

-

“Big things ahead for us, I should think,” Alphinaud chimed happily without looking up from the letter he had brought in to work on. 

“Hmm. Bigger than what we just finished?” Serella asked, her own focus deterred from goldsmithing between his comment and the ache in her ban.

“Oh heavens, I should hope not! Many changes loom on the horizon, but much will feel familiar. It will be nice to go to ground again, so to speak. Not that we should hasten to our next task, of course, but having a plan is preferable.”

There was a peculiar pause there—only a few moments, but long enough that Serella caught the way he flitted his eyes toward her with as little movement as possible. Had she not stopped fiddling with her project, she might have missed it entirely…which she suspected he had been hoping for.

“What do you mean,” she asked slowly, “when you say we will go to ground again?”

That got him to set his pen down, though he kept his eyes on the paper in front of him. 

“We Scions have been talking—”

“—Without me?” she asked with care.

“Oh!” Alphinaud was startled into actually looking at her when he seemed to realize how horrible it sounded when put like that. “No, not with the intent to leave you out of the discussion, of a certainty, but we thought to bring it up when you were perhaps a bit further along in recovery—”

“What are you lot talking about, then? What’s this plan I’ll find out about later?” she pressed, already thin on patience.

Silence stretched for another few heartbeats, drawn out further by Alphinaud’s resumed refusal to look at her.

“I— well, ‘tis hardly a plan just yet, but…given all that we have accomplished, and how far the Alliance has come—”

“The Grand Company of Eorzea.” Serella corrected him.

“Yes, yes, the Grand Company,” Alphinaud hastily corrected, adding, “though even that name change proves how far they have come. Far enough along that I believe it time for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to slip back into the shadows. We aim to announce our disbandment upon your medical clearance—”

“Disbandment?” Serella gawked. 

“Not in truth! Only insofar as the official story will tell!” Alphinaud reassured, at last turning to her fully.

Serella wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation, at the way he looked surprised that she might take umbrage with the notion.

“We are an organization that has always worked in shadow in service to the star—”

“Oh come off it,” she cut him off waspishly, “Minfilia called us the worst kept secret in Eorzea before we had even moved to the Rising Stones. If you think for one second we were ever fully hidden—”

“I am under no such delusion.” Alphinaud huffed. “Even if only in principal, however, we were not outwardly acknowledged.”

“Until Minfilia specifically declared that we would be a public institution. To be open and honest with the people we fight to save. And you would undermine that, Alphinaud?”

“The world has changed, Serella,” he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “to even begin to speculate on what Minfilia would do after all of this is a disservice to her memory.”

“And the choice to lie to our friends isn’t? To our allies? After fighting alongside them in the name of truth and unity? When we have only barely started pulling back as arbiters for advanced technologies and mediators between peoples post-Calamity? For what purpose, even? So you won’t be pestered by the things they don’t ask of us anymore?” she asked.

“Not—not lying—well, alright, ‘tis a lie, but one that we feel—”

“We?”

“—is necessary. The city-states will continue to grow independent on their own—”

“You know they only asked us for help when they couldn’t do what we did, yes? That such needs were why the Scions were even founded to begin with?” she pressed him. “I don’t even particularly like the governments we’ve worked with, and even I would not be so uncharitable as to consider them demanding.”

“They did ask much of us—” he began.

She was having none of it, however, citing, “Eorzea was losing to Garlemald when I joined the Scions. Do you even remember that? It was a lifetime ago, aye, but they didn’t even ask us at first—do you not recall how close they came to surrendering? Now that they have the means to combat primals without the Echo and a cure for tempering, you cannot even trust them to restrain themselves from asking needless favors?”

“‘Tis not only up to me—” he sidestepped.

“But you suggested it, I’d wager.” She countered.

When the silence re-entered the room, it was incredulous. Stifling. 

“That…is a cruel assumption,” Alphinaud said slowly, eyes averted.

Unfazed, Serella blanched, “Am I wrong?”

Silence chimed in to answer on his behalf: of course he did.

“I think it more than fair for us to step back from—” he tried to pivot.

“So do that. Assign other Scions to Eorzea’s care if you feel you’ve done your part. Disbanding would displace dozens of our colleagues. How many of us have rooms in the Rising Stones with nowhere else to go? For how long was I one of those colleagues?”

“Everyone would remain on the payroll—”

“But disbandment would require us to scatter. To “keep up appearances” and give credence to the lie. Have you factored in where our colleagues will go? How long will we be scattered? What will happen to the Rising Stones and the Waking Sands?”

“We’re barely starting the talks for this now, I know not what we will do to address these things—” he tried to argue.

“Have you told Estinien?” she asked pointedly. “Does he get a vote?”

Silence once more interjected—of course Estinien doesn’t know yet.

Nor was he an Archon.

“Well…” Alphinaud meandered.

“After all the effort the lot of you used to cajole him into joining, finally reassuring him he’s got a steady place to rest his lance outside of Ishgard, this is his thanks not even six moons on?! And what of the others?!”

“As I said, we’re still working it out—”

“So you’re bringing this to the table with no logistics, no plan, and nothing to act as a safety net for those of us that aren’t Archons?” Serella pressed.

“Were our deaths not enough?” Alphinaud asked, tired. “I care for our comrades’ well being. You know I do. But I haven’t the answers yet.”

“Were any of mine?” she countered. “You got to come along for the full ride once, and that was enough, was it?”

“I know not why this is an argument,” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he added, “I still want to work to help Garlemald—your betrothed leads the charge in that—”

“Which makes it all the more insulting you would have me lie to him. You would leave no organization behind the lot of you, nothing to help future generations, no “guiding light” like Loui—”

“I know,” Alphinaud said in a low voice, “what my grandfather wanted. And I know what we want.”

“And who is we, Alphinaud?” Serella asked again in a matching tone.

Silence’s presence made itself known in the room again. It hummed in her ears, it buzzed in his blood. 

“I think…I should go.” Alphinaud murmured, easing himself down from his chair. “Mayhap we can revisit this once you are better. You’re talking like you did years ago when you thought yourself alone.”

“And little wonder. You talk like you did when you thought to form the Braves. You’ve never seemed younger.” Serella quipped, already leaning back into her pillows.

If his flinch was any indication, Alphinaud understood it as the furthest thing from a compliment, yet silence saw him out of her room.

[indigovigilance]

@tangerine-ginger, @nonlaregina, @sparklyshinymagpie, @lesbianlazyhouse, and others (if your AO3 handle doesn't match your Tumblr handle I'm helpless, sorry):

Hello! It's Tuesday! There will not be a new chapter of Give Me Death in a Big Cup today! (I'm sorry, but there's a good reason, I promise. See below.)

Okay guys, so here's what's up: Chapter 69 is massive. It has taken more time to put together, it will be worth the wait, and no, I'm not splitting it up. It would be a disservice to you and the story. So just... hang tight.

ALSO:

There will be general change to the publishing schedule. I am starting school very soon. @taraiha has changed around her work schedule. Between these things, continued once-a-week publishing just isn't tenable. The story will continue, but right now it's my "soft schedule" that new chapter drops will be the first Tuesday of each month. Taraiha and I are both committed to seeing this story to its finish, it's just going to take longer because, let's face it, real life comes first. It just has to.

Thank you all for your ongoing love and support, your thoughtful comments mean everything to me and I'm so grateful to @taraiha, Jeremy's artist @redmenacelives, and alpha reader @bowtiepastabitch for everything they do to make this story come to life.

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 15

We are nearing the end, my lovelies. I have about one or two more parts to go (depending how far part 16 takes me) and then we’re done. Which makes me so sad. I love this story. It made me so happy. I don’t even know what sparked the idea.

I named it after a muse for three reasons. Steve becomes Eddie’s muse. Eddie becomes Steve’s muse. And my muse caught this story and refused to let go until I completed it.

Normally I have the next part completed before I put up a part (if I post part 8, I’ll have part 9 already done type thing), but I got a really bad migraine last night and didn’t finish part 16. I hope I’ll get it done today, but I’m not sure. So part 16 might not go up until late tomorrow or early Monday.

Also and this is important, lovelies: THE TAG LIST HAS OFFICIALLY REACHED MY LIMIT OF 50. ALL FUTURE REQUESTS FOR TAGS WILL BE IGNORED. Thank you!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14

*

Steve was working with Crystal who was by far the chillest dude he had ever worked with. Bar none. Steve was pretty damn sure that he was stoned most of the time.

But since it didn’t affect his work, Diamond looked the other way.

Crystal and Steve got into a rhythm that got them a lot of attention. Steve’s showy style of bartending mixed with Crystal’s flare created quite the show.

After a particularly complex set of maneuvers, Diamond came over to Steve and patted him on the shoulder.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Diamond asked, his voice rough with emotion. “You really are the heart of this team. You get along with everyone, you know how to put on a show, and you’re a great worker. I’d even triple your rate, man.”

Steve blushed. “As tempting as that sounds with that being more than I would make as a teacher...it’s what I want to do. I want to be that influence for good in teenagers that might not get that from anywhere else.”

Diamond gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re a good man, Garnet. Don’t let anybody change that.”

Steve grinned. “Thanks, Boss.” He ducked his head bashfully, scratching his cheek. “Besides it would be a disservice to my host teacher. He’s really put himself out on a limb for me.”

“You’re going to be a teacher, bro?” Crystal asked. “That’s pretty freaking amazing.”

“Art teacher,” Steve clarified.

“You draw, too?” Crystal murmured. “You’re going to do awesome!”

Steve just shook his head and got back to helping the next customer in line.

*

Steve and Eddie walked into class together bantering back and forth when Joyce came running to them both. She hugged them tight, one arm around each of them.

“I’m so glad you guys are safe!” she cried.

They hugged her back.

“I’m fine,” Eddie murmured. “Steve had my back.”

She pulled away and glared at Steve. “Jim said that you were trying to take on five boys with just your nail bat.”

Eddie mouthed ‘Jim?’

Steve mouthed back ‘Hopper.’

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up.

“I was just stalling for time until Hop showed up with reinforcements,” he promised Joyce.

“I really wish you wouldn’t get into fights like that,” she admonished gently. “You know how much it scares Jim.”

Steve shook his head, holding up his hands placatingly. “I wasn’t fighting, honest. I was just stalling for time like I said. I tapped him twice on the back of his heavy letterman jacket as a warning and nothing else.”

Joyce’s face softened. “If you’re sure?”

“I can attest to the fact that Steve just danced around the guy and never engaged directly,” Eddie said, putting himself a little forward to place himself between Joyce and Steve.

She looked back and forth between them and sighed. “I’m glad everything turned out well then.”

As Steve and Eddie walked to take their places, Eddie said, “You are giving me the complete rundown of everything I did not understand in that conversation over coffee and you’re paying.”

Steve laughed. “Fair enough!”

*

“That was by far the most confusing conversation I have ever been in,” Eddie said after taking a sip of his black coffee. “And that includes the time my guidance counselor told me that after three times I was actually graduating from high school.”

Steve chuckled. “What do you want to know?”

Eddie laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, using his elbows to prop him up. “Why does Joyce Byers know the chief of police well enough to call him by what I am assuming his given name?” He batted his eyelashes at Steve.

Steve raised an eyebrow and took a long sip of his iced coffee. “Because they’ve been dating for years?” He gave a little half shrug.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “How the hell did I not know that?”

Steve pursed his lips and then licked them slowly. “They don’t like people to know usually. The only reason I know is because Hop was the FBI liaison after my attack and Joyce was acting as my parental advocate until I turned eighteen.”

“Huh.”

“Anything else you want to know?” Steve asked.

“You lied to me pretty boy,” Eddie began. “You said you couldn’t beat Nick if he chose to start a fight.”

Steve laughed. “I said a fist fight. I can’t even begin to tell you how many of those I’ve lost.”  

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully. “So then why did both Joyce and Hopper admonish you like you’d done this kind of shit before?”

Steve ducked his head to hide the flushing of his cheeks. “I’m not sure how much you remember about what I was saying to Jason and his gang. You were pretty terrified out of your mind.”

“Which part are we talking about?” Eddie asked. “You goading Jason for not being able to swing properly or before that?”

Steve laughed again. “Before that, when Robin threw me the bat?”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth slowly. “Something about it being an anti-homophobe bat?”

“That’s the one,” Steve said with a grin. “I take it to Pride festivals and LGBTQ+ events to ward off assholes like Jason and his gang. Sometimes it takes more than just swinging it around to get them to back the fuck off.”

Eddie put his hands flat on the table. “How the hell have you not been arrested?!” He leaned forward into Steve’s space.

Steve pushed him playfully. “My notoriety and my relationship with Chief Hopper, if I’m honest. It’s the only time that’s ever worked out in my favor. But now I’ve got a reputation for taking on homophobes.”

“That is objectively the most hilarious thing I’ve heard,” Eddie said, sitting back down.

Steve grinned. “Yeah, I like to think of it as karma if I’m honest.”

“Steve Harrington, the avatar of vengeance, is that it?” Eddie asked, in all seriousness.

“I never intended to be,” Steve defended. “It just worked out that way.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie winked at him.

Steve looked down at the table and rubbed a finger along the surface. “Since we’re answering questions. Can you answer one for me?”

Eddie’s expression became guarded. “You want to know why Jason Carver was playing ‘hunt the freak’?”

Steve nodded. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Eddie reached across the table and lifted Steve’s chin. “It’s okay. I want to tell you. It’s just not my story to tell.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Chrissy.” It wasn’t even a question.

Eddie nodded. “He seems to labeling under the delusion that I turned her gay.”

Steve started laughing and couldn’t stop. Eddie tried to not join in, but one side-eyed look at him and he was busting up, too.

“God are all straights this stupid?” Steve asked when he was able to catch his breath.

Eddie grinned. “No, just too many of them.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said returning the grin.

*

Eddie noticed the dwindling number of students the closer they got to the last day of class. Soon it was down to Steve and a couple other students.

“Hey, Joyce,” he said, bounding up to her after class. He was waiting for Steve to finish cleaning up.

“Hey, Eddie!” she greeted cheerfully. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great,” he replied and then pursed his lips. “So I was wondering where all the other students have gone?”

Joyce frowned for a minute. “Oh! I guess I forgot to tell you. When the students finish their final they don’t have to keep coming to class.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Oh. So Steve hasn’t finished his final yet?”

Joyce giggled but quickly covered her mouth to stifle it. Eddie glared at her.

“No, sweetheart,” she said fighting to keep her smile in check. “He turned it last week.”

Eddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He stays because he wants to spend time with you.”

He turned to where Steve was cleaning his paint brushes and then back to her. “So what is he working on if not his final?”

She gave him a half shrug. “I would assume a personal project.”

Eddie hummed. “You don’t find it weird that he’s still painting me nude?”

“Why? Do you?” Joyce asked with a raised eyebrow.

He ducked his head and blushed. “I mean, it’s flattering. But at the same time...I don’t know. I feel seen I guess.”

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can see that both of you are so smitten with each other, I don’t understand why you two aren’t together.”

Just then Steve came up and put his hand on Eddie’s lower back. “Hey, Eds. I’m done. You about ready to go?”

Eddie nodded and let him lead him away from Joyce as they both waved goodbye.

Once they were out on the pavement, Eddie asked. “So Joyce was telling me that you already finished your final.”

Steve grinned. “Yep! It’s going into the art show they have for all the graduating art students. You should totally come.”

“Does that mean that people are going to be staring at my naked ass all day?” Eddie teased.

Steve laughed. “Well there will be a 18+ area that little kiddies aren’t allowed to go into. But, yeah those that want to will be able to see you in all your naked glory.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, all right. I’ll be there. If only to see Karens clutching at their pearls at the mere thought of nudity near their precious children.”

Steve laughed again. “I can’t wait for you to see my painting.”

“I’m excited too,” Eddie agreed. “But you know I’ve got to ask...”

“Why I haven’t just not come to class like everyone else?” he asked and Eddie nodded. “I know it might come off a little creepy but I just liked spending time with you. And I know that you’re working hard on your music and trying to get a record deal and technically I could just meet you after class and go for coffee, but I just–”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s arms and said firmly. “Steve.”

Steve finally took a breath.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “You were starting to spiral again. You need to take a breath, okay.”

Steve nodded and then ducked his head between his hunched shoulders. “I just didn’t want you to think I was being all creepy and gross about wanting to continue to paint you after my turned in my assignment.”

Eddie frowned, wondering where this was coming from. And then it hit him. The very first thing he had thrown at Steve that first day of class was that he had only taken it because he was there to leer at the model.

He gently cupped Steve’s cheek. “Oh, Stevie. I know you’re not like that. I’m flattered, okay?”

Steve leaned into Eddie’s touch. “Okay,” he breathed.

“I was only curious, no judgment.” Eddie pulled him in for a hug and Steve just melted into his embrace. “Come on, let’s go get that coffee, huh?”

Steve nodded and reluctantly let go. Only to be pleasantly surprised when Eddie slung his arm around his shoulder.

And if Steve leaned into it, that was no one’s business but his. And maybe Eddie’s, too.

Part 16  Part 17  Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy @messrs-weasley @sharingisntkaren @nohomoyesbi

[moosescribbles]

Over the last 6 weeks I have been working on a book for a LARP here in the UK, the holy book of one factions god of the hunt, Kubeth. Leant into a woodcut style that I think came out well. The title page came in mostly to make a nice symetry in the binding, bringing the total to 36 pages, also made the font and a lil moose for a makers mark.

The writing was done by the player of Ardentia, she wanted something simple and rustic, Kubeth is one of the most feral gods of a faction with a lot of gods that lean towards people and civilisation. I wanted a nice rough look to the images, looking at actual woodcuts is impressive, I honetly feel like my facimilie is a bit of a disservice to how wonderful they can be. I have two @3eyedog linocut prints above my desk and I'd often look at them for inspiration on texture and technique.

The hare here is the second image I did and when i really felt confidence that the style would work, angular, defined prints with some soft watercolours is just nice, and quite striking. the occasional bits of ink running throughout. The pup in spoils was a lot of fun, and while the subject is grim I don't think the gore of it is initially striking, with the indistinct shape of the kill in the background, a little "it gets worse the longer you look".

The "Eyes of the Hunted" 'chapter' was the first section I fully finished, the "To Survive" and "Too Slow" are majority black ink, I wanted the hunted to feel a bit opressed, minimal colour. "Too Slow" was the style test concept image, to make sure the writer was happy, it turned out a bit more stylised than the rest of the book imo. "Defend yourself" is one of my favourite pages, the page turn for it is great. After the darker pages it is quite barren, with a little running ink. There isn't much triumph to the page, for the hunted the victory is only temporary. Finally the "Prey Medley" (and therefore all of the medleys) are very inspired by @mothsprout, I was constantly looking in their blog for vibes, and when I saw "Canis Lupus + Flora" I knew that this was how I'd want to end each chapter to end.

Probably my favourite section, every one of this images fights for my favourite, the bear intentionally pushes up on all the margins for the power, the swooping eagle for the speed, the utterly desolate hungry wolf, it's also where the colour pallet shined, I used a pallete someone kindly put on the CSP asset store featuring historical pigments so i could stick with a little fantasy, even the black ink is "bone charcoal ink" rather than just pure digital black. The "Hunters" medley took a couple goes, the first one was mostly neutral, writer wanted snarls, I had put a wolf head on in the center, then again Moth Sprout as an inspiration with the swooping owl, looks so much better. There's more than a few hidden layers of different animals on that file.

Ok cutest image in the book, writer insisted that not all this section would be human, and i struggled to think, until she suggested just a cuddle relaxed pile of wolves which I felt like, of course, I had been wanting to make some hunters not on the hunt. This whole section was very guided by her, and I feel that it comes off well. The "Gifts Medley" is my least favourite, I think it was the one place where I found the style to lack, I also had issue coming up with enough items to feel I'd fleshed out the medley, and then also depicting them in such a style, I think the message is conveyed, but at the cost of some of my self imposed style rules.

And here we go, the final image, I like this one, the final medley as a probably the most colourful page. This was a really fun project, different from OCTs I had a more intricate brief with a longer time frame, so I took my time, grabbed refs overall I'm happy with the project. Though I do now have a goal of trying to do some linocut prints of some of the pages.

Ardentia did the bookbinding, and a pretty good job of it too!

My greatest regret? I didn't take any good photos of the finished product, I did a rambly video but it was finished day of the event it was due for, and has now left my hands and is loose in the system. Below are the links to the CSP pen, watercolour brush, and historical pallete I used to complete this.

[sarahsmi13s]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

oh star, darn you! making me be nice to myself... but also how can i just pick three? i love all of my brain babies 😭

my three (in no particular order):

'Tell Them' Universe: after nearly losing someone very important to him, jake decides it's finally time to reveal his secret to the dagger squad

i feel like it would be a disservice to not include one of the first pieces i've done. and the only series i've finished so far. i have pieces in the works for this, fun things that go along with it. so i hope i can get a resurgence going 😂

'J and S' Universe: jake seresin met sarah grant in one of the least likely circumstances... moving his younger sister into her dorm room. a year after meeting, they confess to each other in the front seat of a truck. and the rest is history

this series is my baby. i love jake and sugar to no end. it is another one of my early babies, stimming from a fic i fell in love with that the author gave me a character in ( his little girl ). this series is entirely self indulgent with the main oc essentially being the fanfic version of myself. i haven't updated it in a while, sugar has been pregnant for a minute... maybe i can get back to them when my ideas slowdown 😅

'Duckie' Universe: as the daughter of goose and carole and twin sister to bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, y/n bradshaw also got her papers pulled when she tried to enlist in the Navy. which turned out to not be as bad as she thought.

and this wouldn't be complete without duckie. this summary is a little lack-luster and rushed, i really need to update it LOL but duckie and nicky hold a very important place in my heart.

these three are only scratching the surface. i adore the pieces i've made, whether they've done well or not. they're all important to me, but these three are what brought me back to posting my writing and have lead me on a path of maturity in my writing that i don't know if i would have reached otherwise.

[hopepaigeturner]

Hope's Review of S3: Other Subplots

There were some interesting subplots this season. I feel that the real problems was that they added little weight to the story. You could remove them, and they wouldn’t have any impact on the story.

AND THAT IS A PROBLEM.

Bridgerton does not have the time to put in plots like this that don't wither push Polin's story, or set up a future Bridgerton romance. And even worse, most of them were solved within an episode or within one conversation.

E.g. Lady Danbury and her brother. Legit one conversation and decades of resentment suddenly crumbled away. I think such a disservice to the characters.

Violet & Lady Danbury

Concerning Violet and Lord Anderson. It was cute and I understand that they set stuff up in QC but they really didn’t need to give that much screen time to establishing yet another couple. 2 couples in one season is a lot, 3 made it feel stuffy—and we lost precious Polin time because of it.

If the problem was that you wanted Lady D and Violet to do something, then that is easily fixable.

Let Lady Danbury have her OG book role. Have her be Pen’s champion through the season! Have her meddle with Colin. Have her good naturedly question Pen about Debling. The plot is literally in the books!

Violet storyline with Francesca was so good this season. A really interesting subplot that gave insight into both characters. That would have been plenty enough to do for Violet. As for her desire for companionship? Why not let the storyline with Francesca teach Violet not to close herself off to a slow match, let her realise that it might not be like Edmund. Why not let her have a convo with Anthony about it? Why not have her meet someone at the final ball? Then allow it more space in later seasons.

Featheringtons

Again, I loved the moments, like this one. ICNOIC. But not so much the writing.

Albion Finch and Phillipa were undoubtedly the cuties of this season. PERIOD.

But the whole baby making plot whilst funny was unnecessary. Especially as it was mostly forgotten about in part 2. Perhaps the writers could have spread out the storyline of Penelope becoming friends with Penelope and Prudence's jealousy?

Their subplot was a little more justified because they were connected to Penelope, but that is now gone. Polin have finished and there is no need for them to have substantial plots going forward. Moments? Yes. Subplots? No.

Will and Alice

I ADORE Will and Alice. I love their relationship and how it is so unproblematic--just two people deeply in love. Also their personalities are brilliant, especially Alice's. I would much rather watch them over Featheringtons any day. And being the only working class couple in the show is so refreshing.

But, if I am going to say that the problem with other subplots were that they didn’t impact the main story…then I’ve got to apply it to everyone.

It was nice that their storyline was separate from the Bridgertons, but that was also its problem. It was separate from the Bridgertons. You could take it out and it wouldn’t make a difference just like the Violet & Marcus plot. And that is a problem in a show already stock full of characters with only 8 episodes.

I also think they’re subplot could have been more interesting and useful to expand the Bridgerton world. I've touched upon it here.

I am also going to do a separate post about some other things I found…interesting with the way they wrote that storyline.

JUST GIVE ME THEIR OWN SEASON--PLEASE!

Queen Charlotte

Now, while I don't have much to say, it was a great example of how you can utilise a subplot that pushes along the story.

QCs 'journey' this season was sort of understanding that she actually likes the competition of Whistledown and secretly wants it to stay--but that journey pushed the main plot (Polin) along due to the announcement of the reward. Tf, for me it didn't feel out of place or disjointed unlike other subplots.

Also, I'm not mad at all that the Queen was the one who started the hunt for Whistledown. it made a lot more sense for it to be that way.

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

Don't worry ladies and gentlemen. I'm almost done. Just one more post that ofcourse I kept to last.

Can you guess who?

[aaeds]

I have to say it. 

As someone who works with data, logistics and metrics for a living I really don’t like Netflix’s recipe for success.  Putting multi-season shows up against new releases does a disservice to new shows - pushing them down the list and potentially out of sight especially as they are counted not as a show, but as a season of a show on the top 10 on metrics websites. This is particularly annoying if your new release coincides with something like Stranger things - it can’t compete. 

Uncertain ‘deadlines’ and a measure of success for a show based on completion is arbitrary and focuses on a select group of individuals who are willing to sit through 8-10 hours of television in a day or two which is an unhealthy expectation. People get busy, they want to wait for their SO, they want to read the books first, or a number of things. 

Personally with several shows like 1899 I started but couldn’t finish because I got extremely ill and was unable to follow the flow. I was shocked to hear it got cancelled. I’d love a backlog of shows to watch but episode 8 of Lockwood broke my heart. So much of it was a mix of Book 5 and earlier throwing readers a bone and hoping for the best. Lockwood could become big, with a better budget and one or two more episodes to make things less rushed and more impactful - it’s got so much praise from so many sources with actors and writers pushing for folks to give it a go.  And shows like these are good, and they can get better with time and patience.

I’m convinced at this point Netflix is chasing its next Stranger Things and nothing else and I’m afraid that’ll be Wednesday. When those numbers become the basis for your KPI expectations you’re setting up multiple studios for failure. You’re not looking for a reason for your completion rates you’re rolling over them.   Because in the end these shows, cancelled or no, remain in your graveyard of a catalogue.

I feel like at some point you have to stop greenlighting new shows and look at your existing catalogue and data and see whether or not there is something worth renewing. With all the bad press they’re getting I would rather not have an adaptation of anything at all. 

Also I think genre and age range shows should be measured differently. 

Fucking coco melon was in the top ten for how many months? And now Wednesday for some reason is moving up in the list. It’s stopped feeling like a gauge for interesting content and more like a public hit list of Netflix’ next cash cow. 

I loved Stranger Things, but I’m starting to think it was a mistake. 

[mimbotomy]

more writing asks!! 5, 9, 28?

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

If you asked me this a few months ago, I would have had a different answer for you, but I recently feel like I got over some of my weirdness about tags! For a long time, I was super picky about my tags because I didn’t want to overwhelm anyone like I’ve been overwhelmed scrolling through my feed and having to keep scrolling and scrolling through a fic that tagged absolutely everything the author could think of. So while I would sometimes include personal notes like “I don’t know how the Isu work and I don’t care,” which fyi that applies to all my fics, I wouldn’t necessarily tag all the major characters or even all the ships. I didn’t tag any ships for the Children of Kephallonia until a few months ago because I was worried doing so would make it too long, but I got over myself eventually.

I also don’t really tag genres like angst or romance or fluff, although all of my fics tend to be majority fluff, but I think that’s because I don’t think any fic is just angst or just romance or just fluff. There’s always so much emotion in a fic because the author had to have a lot of emotion to write it, and so searching for one specific genre just feels like a disservice to the author a little bit. And tagging it sorta feels like a disservice to me if that makes sense?

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

I have a love/hate relationship with cliffhangers, which I’d argue is the norm lol. I think they’re hard to get right though, and while I’ve definitely read some stories that do cliffhangers so well, a lot of times I feel like they’re just mean and done for shock value rather than to add anything of value to the story.

For me though, I don’t feel like I use cliffhangers in my work that much. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I don’t really see them as cliffhangers? I like to have each chapter tell a relatively self contained story, so any cliffhanger I might have feels less like a cliffhanger and more the natural end of one storyline and the jumping off point for the next, at least to me. Plus I don’t think my work is that groundbreaking or full of twists, so I feel like it’s pretty obvious that whatever trouble the characters find themselves in will be resolved pretty quickly lol.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Not going to lie I think these are all pretty weird but they work for me 😂

First off, I act out a lot of my scenes, albeit in my head so my dog and husband don’t look at me weird, kinda moving around the space as I run through and refine dialogue in my head. Like I will legitimately stand on one side of the room pretending to be one character and then go to the other side of the room pretending to be the other. I think it helps me figure out people’s vibe and mannerisms and visualize the scene before I put it onto paper.

I also draw a lot, although I don’t finish a lot of my drawings to the point of being comfortable posting them, but those are more to force me to think about character relationships. For example, for my drawing of Kassandra, Barnabas, and Herodotos all hugging, I sat there for a long time thinking about how they would hug each other, and there’s a lot of symbolism in like the ways their arms are wrapped around each other, at least in my opinion. Down to explain that in the comments if anyone’s interested but that would make this way too long and it’s already too long lol.

Lastly, and I’m not quite sure how to say this without sounding like an asshole, but I literally just write until I can’t write anymore. Like whenever I find myself stuck, whether I’m stuck on a specific line or a transition or even an entire scene, I write XXX and either add a short note or a little drawing about what I’m imagining and move on. And then I’ll go back later and search for every instance where I wrote XXX and fill in the gaps. Or if I’m unsure about which direction I want a scene to go, I will write brief snippets of all my options. Sometimes they aren’t very brief - for example I have five different half written versions of the Arkadia arc of my fic the Children of Kephallonia because I know how I want that storyline to end but I just keep changing my mind about what should happen in the middle RIP.

But if I’m just totally stuck on a story in general, I will literally open up another doc and work on that one, and I do that again and again until I am all out of time or creative writing energy. I’ve talked before about how I have way too many WIPs, but those are also just the ones I talk about. I have a bunch of stories that probably will never see the light of day but are fun to write, like a super weird modern AU or ridiculous crossovers that make no sense or just a bunch of random unconnected scenes of various Kassandra ships. So if I’m stuck on all of my actually published or planned to be published fics, I go work on one of those until I become unstuck on one of my real fics or need to close my laptop/put my phone down for a while. Probably why I’m pretty slow at updating but it works for me!

Imma be honest this doesn’t read overly coherent to me, but I’m really tired and I have a lot going on this week too and so I will probably continue to be tired. So I’m not going to edit 👍🏼 If you would like to read more my semi incoherent ramblings about my fics, more prompts can be found here! These are always fun to do and I could definitely use the mental break this week.