#not me dusting off my ao3 and writing something for the first time in years

[gina-the-machina]

Chapters: 3/8 Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Arthur Fox/Catherine Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue), Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Catherine Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Arthur Fox, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Hunter (Red White & Royal Blue), Spencer (Red White & Royal Blue), Liam (Red White & Royal Blue), Shaan Srivastava, Zahra Bankston Additional Tags: Man Up (2015 movie) au, okay bear with me on this one I promise it's good, Mistaken Identity, First Dates, Blind Date, Arthur Fox Lives, and Phillip isn't awful, Henry Just Wants To Be Loved, So does Alex, alternative universe, Set in modern day London, Healthy Relationships, although at first Alex and Henry are not one of them, Liam also sucks im sorry king, Discussions about divorce, switching POV, no beta we die like men, Gratuitous use of italics Summary:

Set-ups do not work. Henry Fox will not be moved on this point. That is, of course, until, on his way to his parent's 30th wedding anniversary party, one Alex Claremont-Diaz finds him under the Waterloo Station clock and mistakes him for his blind date. And Henry is so immediately gone on this complete stranger that he doesn't correct him.

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Or: the Man Up (2015) au that literally no one but me asked for

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Updates every Sunday and Wednesday !

[pandapetals]

Stay With Me

old man logan x fem!reader - angst, set during logan film, logan injured, established relationship, mentions of death, no y/n used, no reader description, hopeful ending

a/n: sorry for writing this shit. i'm emotional rn due to my period and being sick.

Logan comes back injured again and you debate whether you should stay or leave because you can't keep watching him kill himself.

read on Ao3

The blazing sun prickled sweat from your skin as a gust of hot wind swept across the barren landscape, stirring up dust and sand. This was the middle of nowhere—a wasteland, forgotten by the rest of the world—but it was your home now. Isolated, bleak, but safe. At least, it was supposed to be.

Your arms were crossed, eyes scanning the horizon, searching for the familiar black limo. It had been days since you last saw Logan, and the worry gnawing at the pit of your stomach was becoming unbearable. You knew he wasn’t doing well. His healing factor was fading, almost gone, and each time he returned, there were new scars. New wounds that didn’t close as quickly. Grey streaked through his hair now, more prominent with every visit, and his eyes... his once-sharp, steely gaze was dulled by spotty vision.

The question haunted you, whether you wanted to admit it or not—How much longer can he survive like this? Would he even last another year? Another month?

You should’ve been inside, checking on Charles. Instead, you were out here, frozen in place by the gnawing fear that today, Logan wouldn’t return at all. And if he did... how bad would it be this time?

You spotted it just as your mind began to spiral with worst-case scenarios. The black limo, limped along the horizon, dust trailing behind it like a funeral procession. The familiar knot of dread tightened in your chest as you watched the car slowly crawl toward the makeshift home you’d built out here. He had made it back—but something told you this wouldn’t be a quick recovery.

When the limo finally came to a stop, the door creaked open, and Logan practically spilled out onto the cracked earth. Your heart jumped in your throat as you rushed over to him, your feet moving before you could even think. His body was slumped, his clothes torn and stained with blood. Too much blood. You could see the jagged gashes across his arms, his chest, his side. Deep cuts that weren’t healing.

“Logan!” you called out, voice tight with panic as you dropped to your knees beside him.

He groaned, brushing you off with a grunt as he tried to push himself up. “I’m fine,” he rasped, his voice rough and ragged, like gravel scraping together.

“You’re not fine,” you snapped, your hands hovering over his injuries, unsure of where to start. His body was a mess of torn flesh and bruises, the telltale signs of another fight he couldn’t fully walk away from. “Logan, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

Logan let out a pained chuckle, his lips curling into a grimace. “It’s just a scratch, darlin’.”

You glared at him, frustration bubbling up as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. How many times had he said that? How many times had he limped through that door, barely holding himself together, only to shrug it off like it was nothing? This time was different. You could see it in his eyes—the exhaustion, the pain. He was getting worse, and it terrified you.

“Let me patch you up,” you muttered, your voice softer now but still laced with anger. “You’re not invincible anymore, Logan.”

He didn’t argue, which in itself was alarming. Instead, he just gave a slight nod and allowed you to help him to his feet, his weight heavy against your side. You guided him inside, to the small, cluttered living space where the first-aid kit was always waiting.

Logan collapsed into the nearest chair, his breathing labored as you grabbed the supplies and knelt beside him. His blood-soaked shirt clung to his skin, and you winced as you peeled it back, revealing the extent of the damage. Gashes deep enough to need stitches, burns, bruises—he looked like he’d been through hell and barely crawled out alive.

You worked in silence for a while, cleaning the wounds, stitching up the deepest cuts. Logan winced here and there, but otherwise stayed quiet, his gaze far away, lost in whatever battle he’d just fought. His hand rested limply on his knee, trembling slightly.

“Logan, you can’t keep doing this,” you said after a long stretch of silence, your voice strained with the weight of all the worry, all the fear you’d been holding back. “You’re not healing like you used to. I... I can’t keep watching you come back like this. You’re dying.”

He grunted, barely acknowledging your words. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” you snapped, the frustration finally boiling over. You paused, trying to steady yourself, but the tears that had been threatening to fall stung at your eyes. “I’m scared, Logan. I’m scared that one day, you won’t come back. That I’ll lose you. And you won’t even care.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’ve been through worse.”

You stared at him for a long moment, shaking your head. “That doesn’t make this okay.”

Logan remained silent, his face set in a hard, stubborn mask, like he always did when he didn’t want to talk about his mortality, about how much time he had left. It was the same damn argument every time. He would dismiss it, pretend it didn’t matter, and you would let it go because you couldn’t force him to care. But this time, it was different. You couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine, not when his body was falling apart right in front of you.

“I can’t watch you like this,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep patching you up and pretending you’ll just walk it off like before. You’re not invincible anymore, Logan, and if you keep going like this... I’m gonna lose you.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and labored, as though every word you said weighed him down more.

Eventually, exhaustion took over, and Logan’s body slumped in the chair. He’d fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. You stood there for a long moment, watching him—watching the man who had been your strength, your anchor, slowly fall apart.

Your heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid, but you knew you couldn’t stay. Not if this was how it was going to be. Not if he was going to keep killing himself and expect you to watch him die a little more each day.

As you zipped up the bag, you heard a low, gravelly voice behind you.

“Where are you goin’?”

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, you turned around to see Logan standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame for support. His face was pale, his body still weak, but his eyes... they were wide with something you hadn’t seen in a long time. Fear.

“I can’t do this, Logan,” you said softly, the words catching in your throat. “I can’t watch you die.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he limped toward you, his body swaying slightly as he fought against the pain. “You’re not leaving.”

“I have to,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t just sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab your arm, though his grip was weak. “I can’t lose you,” he rasped, his voice breaking with desperation. “I’ve lost... I’ve lost everyone. I can’t lose you too.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice. Logan never let himself get emotional—he always held everything at arm’s length, especially when it came to his own feelings. But here he was, standing in front of you, broken and desperate, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re killing yourself, Logan,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I can’t.”

“I’ll take care of myself,” he promised, his voice rough but full of urgency. “I swear. I’ll do better. Just... don’t go. I need you.”

You stared at him, your heart torn between the overwhelming love you had for him and the fear of what staying would mean. But the way he looked at you, the pain in his eyes... he wasn’t lying. He was afraid of losing you and he was letting his guard down to show you.

“You promise?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Logan nodded, his hand squeezing yours. “I promise.”

For a long moment, you stood there, the weight of his words settling between you. Then, slowly, you let out a breath before dropping the bag to the floor.

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of his embrace as he held you close. “Okay.”

Logan held you tightly, his breathing ragged but steady as you allowed yourself to believe him.

[sotwk]

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.  

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.” 

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.  

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers. 

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for  breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door. 

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit. 

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed. 

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement. 

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing. 

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

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[mollymauk-teafleak]

when we begin again

I wanted to write something for my little huskerdust babies au! So here's some devastating angst!!

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for being the first to indulge me in this madness and the general encouragement and huge thanks to @hangsters for putting up with me singing these songs on repeat whenever by brain goes into standby

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

cw trans angel dust, male presenting pregnancy

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“You have to deal with Angel Dust.”

Husk had been hearing that a lot lately. It made him happier than he’d be willing to admit to anyone with working ears. 

Well. Anyone apart from Angel Dust himself. 

But that surly voice didn’t belong to his man, it was Vaggie who had appeared against his bar, hands braced on it and interrupting the game of poker Husk had been playing against himself. There wasn’t much to do when you were a bartender who’d promised not to drink for the next six months, two weeks and three days. But who was counting? 

Husk didn’t look up, rolling the olives he used as chips from one pile to the other, blatantly cheating and willing himself not to notice, “Let me guess, he made Charlie cry again? Or was it Nifty this time? Ah fuck, did he piss off the radio demon…”

He’d rattled them off in order of likelihood but he wouldn’t put any of them past his spider demon lately. Angel Dust had always been an acquired taste with that sugared armor he put on and the sharp tongue underneath, the teasing smirk he faced the afterlife with. Hell, it had been a while before Husk broke under his charms and that was only after seeing them for what they were, pretty decoration on someone who’d been through a lot and chosen his weapons carefully. He was an asshole, smug and bitchy and vulgar, and Husk had learned to love it.

But for someone who’d actively chased chemical imbalance for years, the guy was not handling pregnancy well.

Tired, aching and hormonal, his time lately was mostly spent sulking on the couch, scowling at anyone who came near, firing off cutting remarks that weren’t so funny without the smile and wink to go along with them. There were very few people in the hotel he hadn’t upset, hitting every square on the bingo sheet, losing his shit over the smallest thing until he deserved some kind of special prize for acidity. He’d be sorry when he calmed down, continually brought to tears by his friends’ patience with him, all of them ready to play the whole scene out the next day.

Hence why Husk was asked to deal with him as often as he was, riding on his baby daddy pass. Being the spider demon’s keeper would lose its shine eventually but it hadn’t happened yet and he didn’t see it on the horizon either. 

“Well, no more than usual but…” Vaggie continued, her palm still over his winning hand. 

Husk sighed, “Look, I know he’s a lot to deal with right now but you can’t blame the guy. He was a bitch with booze, cigarettes and drugs mixed in, now he’s had to drop all three on short notice, topped off with two spider kittens using his organs as a trampoline and turning his brain into soup.” 

“No,” Vaggie’s voice shifted from surly to irritated with an edge of worry that shattered Husk’s warm feeling and pulled his eyes off his cards, “No, it’s not like that, Husk.”

“What’s up with him?” he felt his ears pick up, like if he strained enough, he could hear Angel somewhere upstairs. 

When he’d come back from the store, laden with sweet treats that made his teeth ache just looking at them and insane combinations Angel’s cravings had been demanding lately, he’d just assumed the sofa was empty because the spider was upstairs, sleeping. But Vaggie’s expression said something different. Guilt settled over Husk like a wet blanket. Why didn’t he go and check on him…

“That’s the thing, we don’t know,” the former angel folded her arms, “He was sitting in the lounge like usual, watching TV, me and Charlie were setting up for today’s lesson and suddenly he just got up and stormed off. Slammed the door and hasn’t left since. Snaps at anyone who comes knocking to go fuck themselves.” 

Husk felt the fur across his shoulders lift. Some of that was normal. Some of that gave him the concrete feeling of knowing the next card you turned would blow your hand or knowing that fist was sailing right for your nose. 

“Um…guys?” Charlie’s voice had a tremble that made it sound ready to break, “I think I know what upset him.”

The television was blaring when they ran over to where she sat in the lounge but that had a lot to do with the voice of Katie Killjoy, curdled nastily and accompanied by a dangerous lioness smile. 

And a grainy, lopsided paparazzi shot of Angel Dust, pupils wide as silver dollars and a grin so loose it was sliding right off his face, a poisonous looking martini in one of his hands, a rolled up note in another. 

“Ah fuck…” Husk groaned softly. 

“...with the frankly staggering revelation that the bumbling efforts over at the Hazbin Hotel actually work, somewhat, Hell is left with questions. How did such embarrassing methods actually produce results? Is this the first step on the road to ascension? Is this all an elaborate hoax by the Princess of Hell in a bid to sell us on her hotel? All valid questions in the wake of this news! But we here at Vox Media Productions have another to add to the list.”

The photo of Angel Dust was blown up, becoming footage, bleeding into clips from his more violent pornos. Husk doubted he had a heart anymore but something in his chest ached at the sight of a clear downward spiral. He used to watch Angel like this and tell himself he didn’t care, that the kid was none of his concern, an afterlife imploding to the same tune he’d heard a thousand times, living and dead. 

But he was long past lying to himself. Now he had no shield against the pain of watching the man he loved drown in front of him, knowing there was a version of himself just in the wings, too damn stubborn and too damn drunk to help him. 

“The well known sinner at the center of this shocking story is no stranger to scandal, though he’s far more used to making a profit from it. Angel Dust, star of many award winning pornographic films, is the supposed father-to-be but close, personal friends of the spider himself have raised their concerns.”

Husk could feel the growl running between his teeth like an electric current. He could take a guess at just who’d fed them this story. 

“Sinners, ask yourselves, is this really the person who should be in charge of Hell’s very first children? A known drug addict who makes his living from indecency? And, according to insider reports from Porn Studios, an unreliable, temperamental, unstable individual? There have been a lot of very worrying leaks about his on set behavior and, while we were all willing to turn a blind eye before, there are now young lives at stake. Can we really allow this to continue? Vox Media certainly doesn’t think so.”

A dagger flashed out and crashed through the screen, turning the chatter and flashing images into gurgling pops of static and then silence. Vaggie wrenched her weapon free, eyes flaring enough to burn holes in the wall. 

“Someone needs to crush that fucking bug,” she spat, “Pin him to a goddamn corkboard.”

“They said it’s their top story, they must have been talking about it all day…” Charlie flickered between forms, horns phasing in and out, tears welling in her eyes, “Angel must have seen it…”

“We knew Valentino would throw a bitch fit over you keeping the kids out of his hands,” Vaggie spun the dagger between her fingers like there might still be something to throw it at, “But getting Vox to do his dirty work? Fucking coward…”

“They can’t…they can’t actually take the babies from him right? Right?” Charlie shook herself, hands twisting in her hair, “No, no, of course not. Because we’ll do something about it! I’ll…I’ll get them to interview me! We’ll run our own piece! Start our own news station?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Husk’s voice, oddly calm and empty of anger, brought his friends up short, stalling their fury and their panic. He wrenched his claws out of the furrows he’d dug in the back of the sofa, keeping his breathing steady and even as he took the stairs two at a time. 

The more demonic part of him wanted to howl and break things, smash glass and break his claws against the wall. The part of him that had once been an Overlord wanted to track down Valentino and tear the wings off his back, grind him into the ground until he was as small as he’d ever made Angel feel. The human part of him wanted to find the nearest bottle and drain it dry, rob himself of all feeling, blunt the edges of this pain until he didn’t have to deal with it at all. 

But Husk ignored all of them. It took a moment but he managed it eventually, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t take control of his limbs. There was only one thing that he could let matter right now. 

Angel Dust wasn’t the only one who was struggling with the change in their afterlives.

The bedroom behind the door was still his own, technically, but he hadn’t thought of it that way in a while. They hadn’t been an item long before pink started bleeding into the otherwise lifeless space, bright clothes actually making use of the wardrobe, make-up left scattered in front of the mirror, Fat Nuggets snoring on Husk’s side of the bed more often than not. Angel Dust still had his room down the hall, Husk knew he got a lot of reassurance out of having his own space (and he had a lot more shit) but his paws brought him here first. 

He knocked lightly, pressing his forehead to the door, “Angel? Baby, it’s me.”

There was a very deliberate pause where Husk knew there was a good chance he’d be told to fuck off, a static weight where lightning might strike or it might not. He held his breath, tail whipping anxiously, not praying, he wasn’t fool enough for that, but hoping pretty damn hard. 

Eventually, he heard a soft murmur, the sound of fabric moving, “M’here.”

He took that as permission to gently ease the heavy door open. Their room was dark, almost completely, apart from the sickly blue light flooding out of the phone in Angel’s hands. The spider demon was slumped on the bed, angular limbs folded in like someone had taken a rolled up newspaper to him, the only part of him that moved was the thumb scrolling endlessly through some newsfeed. Husk could hear tinny versions of Angel’s exaggerated moans and squeals from any number of pornos, interspersed with canned commentary from the 666 News broadcast. It seemed like Vox wasn’t the only Vee helping Valentino play dirty. 

Husk sighed, closing the door behind him and gently clambering onto the bed, though he gave Angel plenty of room, “Baby, maybe you should stop listening to that…”

Angel’s voice was thin and rough, like it had come through a belt sander, “He’s sending me them. Val. Making sure I don’t miss any.”

Husk swallowed back acidic anger, “Block him. You can put it down, Angel, it’s okay…” 

“Used to tell yourself that at the roulette table, huh? Just put it down?” Angel flashed him a bitter look. 

Husk couldn’t help it, he flinched. Immediately his boyfriend’s anger cracked and collapsed, horror and shame underneath. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing face down and dropping them into darkness. But the pentagram moon showed Husk more than enough, the tears bleeding down Angel’s face, his mouth twisted miserably as it swallowed him under. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Husk sighed, holding out his hands, “I know you didn’t, baby, I know. Look, can I touch you? That okay?”

Angel’s two sets of arms seemed to be in disagreement. One set trembled closer to Husk’s, the other hovered over the phone, both pulling against the other and both terrified. Husk found himself doing it again, that thing that wasn’t praying, harder than he’d done over any green-felted table. 

The stalemate finally broke and, thank fuck, Husk was the winner. Angel Dust crashed into him with more force than you’d ever think was in that skinny body, clutching him tight enough to hurt, not that Husk could find it in him to care. He felt warm tears soak the fur at the curve of his neck, welcomed them, brought his wings around to shelter the two of them, purred loud and unashamedly, rocked him the way he’d never been rocked himself but it felt right. 

“I don’t get it,” the words came waterlogged and painful, “I didn’t ask for them. I didn’t ask for these kids but I’m doing my fucking best and now I have them, all everyone wants to do is take them away from me.”

For a moment, Husk was envious of his lover, two arms didn’t feel like enough to hold him, how was he supposed to compete when the hurt was this big?

“I know,” he rubbed his cheek against Angel’s hair, forgetting to be self conscious of his feline instincts, “It ain’t fair, baby. And…and I need you to know…if it’s too much, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. You have a choice.”

Angel’s breath shuddered, two hands winding from around Husk’s middle, slipping down. He couldn’t see them but he knew where they were going, his own paws met them there. Demons glancing at him in the street would have no idea- well, they would now thanks to the fucking Vees- but Husk spent a good amount of his time staring at Angel Dust. He saw the gentle slope in his stomach, he knew where to press to feel it through the oversized sweatshirt he wore. He threaded his fingers through Angel’s so the two of them cradled it together, this little impossibility, this spark that had fallen through the cracks and somehow landed here in their afterlives. 

“I wanna do it,” Angel Dust rasped, “I know it’s dumb and selfish but I can’t help it. I got ditched by my family and this…they feel like a second chance. And I know I don’t deserve it but I can’t let go.”

Husk shook his head gently, shifting so he could rest his forehead against Angel’s, “Listen to me. I don’t know why this happened, I don’t know what asshole is up there above Heaven and Hell and all this mess deciding whose a sinner and whose a saint, whose spunk gets to work and whose don’t. I don’t know why these kids are here but I know there’s only one explanation that makes sense to me.” 

Angel sniffled softly, still looking down at their joined hands, “What?”

“You,” Husk breathed, running his thumb over that little knot low inside his lover, “You’re the only person I can think of, in heaven or hell or wherever the fuck else, who’s strong enough to do this. You’ve fought harder than anyone I know to be better than you were. And you’ll keep fighting for our kids, even when assholes like that bitch Val keep throwing punches. I think they’re here because you deserve that second chance, Angel.”

His slitted eyes had adjusted to the darkness, rewarding him with the sight of a small, trembling smile on Angel’s face. 

“Well…that means you do too, right?” he whispered. 

Husk chuckled softly, “Hell, I already knew I was on the path to redemption. I got you, didn’t I? Must be halfway to a fucking saint.”

Angel’s laugh was a shaky, broken thing but it was the sweetest sound Husk had heard in a long time, a prize he could never have imagined winning. To be trusted so much by someone who, by rights, should never have trusted anyone again, he wouldn’t have traded anything for that. 

Angel reached down, fumbling around in the blankets until he found his phone. He held the power button down until the screen went fully dark then tossed it over his shoulder, letting it land in some of the clothes scattered on the floor. He seemed to breathe a little easier after, glowing at the proud grin Husk gave him. 

“I love you, baby,” the words still left him quietly, like he was still unsure saying them, they were a trick he hadn’t mastered yet and was terrified to fumble, “You know that, right?”

Angel nods, plucking those words out of the air and clutching them so tight they were tattooed on his palm, “So you keep saying, Whiskers. Though I could stand to hear it a few more times…and I love you too. A whole fucking lot…” his eyes slid over his shoulder where he’d tossed the phone and it’s poisonous chatter,  “Enough that it drowns out all that bullshit on most days.”

Husk laid a paw against his cheek, brushing away the tear tracks on his face, “And on the days it doesn't, I’m right here. And soon we’ll have two little brats running around, I hear they’re pretty loud.”

Angel let Husk tumble him gently sideways, their bodies finding a way to comfortably fit together in their nest of blankets, “Not soon enough if you ask me. I could have been just enough of a spider to lay eggs and save myself the hassle but nah, I had to go and fall in love with a mammal…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Husk smiled crookedly, purring so Angel would feel it as he pillowed his head on his chest, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Too fucking right you will,” Angel’s gold tooth flashed as he yawned, the sadness draining away and leaving him empty, “Over and over again, in a wide variety of different positions…”

Husk could feel Angel Dust still shaking, even after he drifted asleep. It wasn’t the end of it, he knew that the tide had just gone out. The next months weren’t going to be easy and hell only knew what would happen after that. He’d certainly had better odds in his time. 

But Husk knew one thing for certain. He was all in. 

[handsome-john]

soup for hangovers

this is also something I did not feel like putting on my ao3 but i think its funny enough to collect dust here. vague clefdraki/system clef writing 1000-ish words

-

Kondraki opens his eyes and immediately closes them, half blinded by the glow of the TV. Batman Beyond ended half an hour ago so it’s just been looping the first few seconds of music the DVD menu plays. He swears if he hears that music again he’s actually going to lose it this time. 

He’s laying on his side, sinking into the couch cushions, the arm rest digging into his shoulder. On the other end of the couch is Clef, slumped backwards, his straw hat covering his face, snoring like a lawn mower. He has a dirt brown blanket draped across his lap. With Kondraki’s legs splayed across the couch, he’s in the perfect position to kick Clef off.

“Alto,” Kondraki grunts, kicking him in the stomach. “Hey Clef!” The second kick is enough to knock Kondraki off his precarious balance, sending him tumbling into the floor. The force is enough to rock the house, knocking over the pile of half empty glasses from last night's binge. 

“Huh?” Clef shoots upright, his hat falling into his lap. The fabric pattern on Kondraki’s couch is imprinted into his cheek. 

“I fell…” Kondraki whines, voice muffled by the foreboards. “Ugh… can you help me up? Clef? Cleffy? Cleffles?” He holds up his hand, blindly waving it in the hair. 

“Clef…?” Clef says, voice strange, a drunk man’s impersonation of an American accent. Slowly, he sits up straight, eyes growing wide. “I’m afraid you have me all wrong, my good man, for I am-!” he whips Kondraki blanket around his shoulders like a cape, “The Great and Powerful Chowderclef, Defender of the Night!”

“Well would the great and whatever you said Chowderclef like to help me up.” Kondraki inhales deeply, sucking in the floor dust and dissolving into a coughing fit. “Guh- fuck- ack-!”

“I shall!” Chowderclef says, springing forward fast enough to slam his knees into the coffee table. “For I am helper to all good men!” In one graceless bound, he steps over Kondraki’s prone body and takes his hand. “Rise my friend!” 

“Ugh, what the fuck?” Kondraki steps up, every joint in his legs cracking all at once. He blinks the dust out of his eyes and squints, his nose scrunched. “Isn’t chowder like… like the little purple bitch?”

“We s- wh- what?” 

“The little purple bitch,” Kondraki repeats. 

Chowderclef stares at him, not a single thought behind his glassy eyes. 

“Come on, work with me here.”

“No time for your ramblings! There are succulent soups to precue!” Chowderclef bounds towards the kitchen. In his mind he performs a great leap, sliding over the island, across the countertop, and into the kitchen. Unfortunately he is twenty years too old and two hundred pounds too heavy, so from Kondraki’s perspective he just crawls over the counters while wearing one of his blankets like a cape. 

“Are you fucking deaf or something? Stop shouting!” If this is one of Clef’s bits, then it’s certainly at least mildly more entertaining than his usual ones. “Man, I have a headache.” He’s at least conscious enough to turn off the TV before following Chowderclef. 

“Fear not! For with my skills and your resources, I will produce the perfect cure for all that ails you!” Chowderclef says, pointing a finger towards the sky. Kondraki stares at the ceiling, as if expecting to actually see anything. A single stink bug crawls across the wall. 

“If you wanted food you could’ve just said so. Let me see.” He approaches and opens his cabinets. “I’ve got cream of mushroom… some of that fancy ramen… whatever… this is?” He turns around, cream of mushroom in one hand and unlabelled mystery soup in the other, to see Chowderclef wearing a white chef’s hat. “I don’t have a hat like that. Did you bring that here?”

“A good hero always comes prepared for every situation!” Chowderclef’s eyes lock onto the unlabelled can. “Is that-? Yes of course! I would recognize that anywhere! My one weakness!” He snatches the can up and peels off the lip, revealing it to canned clam chowder. 

“Of wow that's…” Kondraki gags, pinching his nose. “Oh boy, that’s a smell. Can can food go bad? Can can- can canned? Can canned food-” 

Chowderclef slams a pot onto the stovetop. Kondraki blinks, having the strangest uncanny feeling that it’s not one of his pots. The soup wriggles out of the can in one vaguely gelatinous blob. There’s a dungeons and dragons joke Kondraki isn’t sober enough to make. 

“So are you like a superhero right now?” Kondraki asks, still holding his nose. 

“I am a Super Hero!” Chowderclef says, pronouncing it as two distinct words. He runs the can under the sink and adds the water to the soup. “Chowderclef! De-fend-er of the nigh-!”

“Holy shit you are loud! I’m gonna kick your ass if you keep yelling at me!” 

Chowderclef’s oddly jovial grin twists into a tight scowl, far more characteristic of the face he’s wearing. With the blanket draped over his arm, he holds it up to cover half his face. “You dare to challenge me in my own domain?” 

“This is my house. I’m allowed to kick your ass in my own home.”

“You are lucky I am far too honorable to accost a man in his own abode. Or else I would gladly have at thee!” He jabs at Kondraki with a metallic ladle. Okay, now he’s really pulling some of this stuff out of his ass. 

Kondraki holds up his hands in defense. No need for a hangover and a head injury. “Okay, none of that. Just make your soup.” 

Chowderclef smiles. “I am so very glad we could come to an agreement!” 

After letting it come to a low simmer over the flame, the chowder starts to look a little more like something edible. Kondraki lays out two bowls on the counter and Chowderclef beams at him, a little too happy for Kondraki’s comfort. 

“Your service will never be forgotten, my friend!” He says, filling Kondraki’s bowl with his ladle. 

“Okay.”

“You may call on me in your hour of need!” 

“Okay.”

The couch is much more comfortable when it’s sat on correctly. Kondraki stares at the blank TV screen, sipping at the soup. Too salty, he thinks, how is a liquid too salty?

Chowderclef plops down next to him, humming as he eats. Kondraki blinks and in an instant the comedic white chef’s hat becomes Clef’s regular straw hat. Clef gags, spitting the soup back into the bowl. 

“What the fuck is this?” Clef growls, voice back to his usual faux-southern. 

“I dunno man, you’re the one who made it.” 

“Well it tastes like shit.” He drops the bowl on the table and slumps back into the couch, arms crossed over the chest. “Man, I have a headache.”

And neither of them ever brings this up again. 

[fanfoolishness]

My Bad Batch Fanfiction Masterpost

Looks like I've started writing enough Batcher fic that a masterpost would be helpful! Fics are always tagged under #my batcher fic. My stories are typically canon-compliant genfic focused on angst, whump, family feels, PTSD, and grief. But, there's also the occasional bit of fluff and TechPhee. And Crosshair, Crosshair, Crosshair ❤️💀🖤

The whole series can also be found on AO3 in my Clone Force 99 series.

If looking specifically for Summer of Bad Batch 2024 prompt fills, my SoBB masterlist is here.

Last updated: 10/10/2024

Here's what I have so far, laid out in roughly chronological order from the Clone Wars on:

Growing Pains: Crosshair can’t sleep, but Tech has an idea that may help. Cadet fluff, 1700 words.

Stargazing: Crosshair and the batch go stargazing. Summer of Bad Batch prompts stargazing/you think you're going without me? not a chance. 2500 words.

Injury: Crosshair's first use of the Firepuncher. Crosshair and Wrecker, cadet days, summerofbadbatch prompt injured, drabble + art.

Comfort Zone: Tech and Crosshair relaxing on Kamino, drabble + art, summerofbadbatch prompt.

Flash and Bang: Wrecker loves the poetry of explosions. Drabble.

Field Experience: On one of the Batch's first missions, Hunter is unexpectedly injured and learns a valuable lesson. Hurt/comfort, whump, ~2000 words.

Lightweight(s): The Bad Batch's first night ever out on the town. Boys being boys and plenty of shenanigans at 79's! 4200 words.

Kashyyyk: Headcanons about each of Clone Force 99 from a mission on Kashyyyk during the Clone Wars. Drabble.

The Armory: Written for summerofbadbatch, prompt "It's not what you think." Wrecker and Crosshair visit the Armory in 1x01, drabble.

Evaluations: A series of evaluations of CT-9904 through the years. Nala Se POV. Angst, medical whump. 3200 words.

32 rotations: Drabble/art of Crosshair after being rescued on Kamino. Whump.

The Poncho: Wrecker and Tech debate the merits of ponchos. Cut and Run, Ruins of War. 450 words.

Ill-fitted: Crosshair prepares for his first mission after the fall of Kamino, but something feels wrong with his armor. ~1000 words.

The Hug: Drabble + art of Tech and Omega hugging.

A Light in the Darkness: Crosshair and Mayday struggle through the frozen night, 1100 words.

The Soldier: Hunter isn't sleeping well on Pabu. Set in late S2. ~830 words.

A New Fascination: Tech isn’t sure why Phee fascinates him so, but when she tells him about a mysterious creature near the shore, he takes the opportunity to investigate further. TechPhee first date fluff, 8000 words. Illustrations: TechPhee cuteness, Crosshair whump.

When You Wake: Hunter tries to figure out what to tell Omega, after Tech calls Plan 99. -1000 words, angst.

Radio Silence: Echo tries to send a message to a familiar channel. Written for the summerofbadbatch prompt of the same name. Plan 99 angst, 483 words.

the mess you left behind: Tech called Plan 99. Wrecker’s still here. Wrecker tries to cope with newfound grief, but he can’t do it alone. Shortly post-Plan 99. ~ 3500 words. Sibling grief.

Pretending. Omega pretends on Tantiss, but grief will always out. Drabble + art.

Something’s Off: Drabble + art. Crosshair tries to grapple with news of Tech’s death.

Visitation: Hunter has a conversation with a visitor, shortly after Plan 99. 1400 words, sibling grief.

heightened: Hunter struggles to understand Tech’s death, but even heightened senses don’t help. ~1000 words.

Lost Time: Echo works on Omega's crossbow after Plan 99. Drabble.

haunted: Crosshair's first trip to Pabu is more fraught than it would seem. Or: Crosshair sees Tech's goggles for the first time. 1375 words, all hurt no comfort.

dust: Crosshair reconciles with his old armor. The Return. Drabble.

Patching Up: After the events of The Return, Crosshair realizes Batcher needs patching up. She’s not the only one. ~2770 words.

Blind Side: Wrecker catches Crosshair for a heart-to-heart, and reminds him of something that happened long ago. Set between 3x05 and 3x06, ~ 1700 words. Illustrated by @collophora!

Breathless: After Crosshair nearly drowns in 3x07 - Extraction, the Batch heads back to Pabu to rest and regroup. But the danger isn't over yet, and they'll need to work together to save one of their own. Crosshair angst, medical whump, family feels. Canon-compliant/missing scene, ~5100 words. Illustrated by @collophora!

Still: When Crosshair can't hide his tremor any longer, Omega does her best to help. Maybe this time it'll be different. Fill-in-the-blank for episode Bad Territory. ~1900 words.

Patience: Set shortly after Bad Territory. Crosshair continues to attempt meditation with Omega's encouragement, but it's slow going, especially when the rain interrupts. 1500 words.

Under Sun and Shade: Omega and Crosshair share memories of Tech on a sunny day. ~ 900 words. Illustrated by @collophora!

Dawn, After: Hunter finds Crosshair after Point of No Return. Drabble.

In the morning: Hunter takes Crosshair aside before leaving Pabu. Set during Juggernaut. Drabble.

no choice: Wrecker struggles in the approach to Tantiss - no he doesn't. Whump, drabble. Written for summerofbadbatch prompt, "it's just a scratch."

Captured: drabble with art of Crosshair and Hunter being transported to the CX conditioning chamber during the finale. ;_; WHUMP.

aftershocks: Wrecker struggles to get through the assault on Tantiss and the aftermath. But no matter what, he’ll always look out for his little brother. Wrecker and Crosshair angst and whump and family feels. SPOILERS for the finale. 2200 words.

Breaching the Wall: After Crosshair’s injuries on Tantiss, AZI is forced to treat him with heavy doses of pain medication — and Crosshair starts talking. To everyone. Family feels, whump, hurt/comfort. 5800 words with 2 illustrations :)

Need a Hand? Crosshair knows he can ask for help, but it’s harder than it sounds. Post-finale, 655 words, summerofbadbatch prompt.

a rain that sounds like home: Complete; 43,000 words, 8 chapters. After the destruction of Tantiss, the Bad Batch is safe at last. As Crosshair begins to recover from his injuries, it becomes apparent that not all of his scars are physical, and that guilt and grief are wounds that cut deeper than any blade. His family is determined to be there for him -- if only he can let them in. [Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8]

Getting a Haircut: Wrecker helps Crosshair. Drabble + art, summerofbadbatch prompt.

Five Times We Woke: Five times the Batch wakes up in the middle of the night. Nightmares, PTSD, hurt/comfort, soft ending. ~2200 words.

sweet tooth: Wrecker and Crosshair, there for each other through the years. Drabble.

touch: Crosshair has nearly forgotten what it's like to be touched, but time changes that. Whump, hurt/comfort, family feels, soft ending. ~1160 words.

morning caf: It's an early morning on Pabu, and Crosshair hasn't slept well. Neither has Wrecker. When Crosshair goes to check on him, he doesn't expect the question Wrecker asks: "What was it like?  When your chip… when it activated?” Angst, family feels, ~2400 words.

Healing: COMIC. Crosshair finds a new use for his mirror pucks.

The Bad Birders: Headcanons and art of the Batch as birders. Crosshair’s up first, the rest to follow :)

Sick Day: Crosshair wakes up sick, and Omega proves herself the best big sister. ~1000 words.

the waves flowing, the dawn blooming: Hunter and Crosshair have a heart-to-heart, after their girl takes wing. Set directly after the epilogue, stuffed full of soft Dad Batch feels, lots of healing, and Hunter and Crosshair being close again. ~1900 words.

Senescence: Clones have always lived on borrowed time. On a trip home from the Rebellion, Omega and her brothers reach a new understanding. 2700 words, bittersweet family feels. Written for multiple prompts.

Clone Studies: a little meta post about the field of clone studies, long after the clones are gone — but not forgotten.

[lorifragolina]

The Devil Wears Metal

Finally my last entry for Metalsandwich Movie Mania! @now-showing-at-the-hawk-events!

It was originally thought for the Iconic Movie prompt out yesterday but I just missed the day, so, I post it today!

I really venerate The Devil wears Prada and it's so iconic to me that started thinking and preparing this entry the last year when I first knew about the event, and even so I was able to miss the date!! I couldn't stop me making our Metalsandwich version, although I cheated a little but a prequel and a sequel are possible!

Read it in AO3

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson Cast: Eddie Munson as Miranda Priestly Billy Hargrove as Emily Charlton Steve Harrington as Andrea Sachs With the special appearance of: Dustin Henderson as Nigel Kipling Robin Buckley as Lily Heather Holloway as Serena

Rating: Mature Word count:9390

One of my favourite dialogues above the line, I had really so much fun writing it!

“Come on, we have the cover briefing in 5 minutes, that means we are 10 minutes late” smiled Dustin, dusting the crumbs from Steve’s shirt.

Eddie was already there with Heather and another girl, and Gareth took inside two guitar amps almost identical.

“Stand here, watch and listen,” said Dustin, reaching Eddie’s side. Gareth plugs a guitar in one of the amps.

“Where’s my pick?” asking Eddie, and the girl runned searching in a box. “Why is no one ready?” Eddie grunted and raised a brow.

He wore the guitar’s strap and played a chord, then tested a string, adjusting the keys. Then they plugged the guitar in the other amp and played again.

“No,” he said, doing it another couple of times. “Listen? That little sting in the high”.

The sound seemed absolutely the same to Steve, and he was a little bored. 

Gareth nodded. “It seems completely different”.

Steve chuckled, snorting behind his notebook. “Something funny?” Eddie raised a brow. A stone cold silence fell on the room, and Billy came out from his desk and got close to listen. “No… no, no, I’m sorry, nothing” Eddie’s glance was so sharp that he just couldn’t stop himself. “This is… those sounded exactly the same to me… but, don’t mind me, I’m still learning about this stuff”. “This… Stuff?” Eddie growled slowly, in a low voice that was able to turn off all the sounds around him. “Oh, I see… You think this has nothing to do with you. You turn on your radio, your MTV, and think that you can listen to your easy pop just to fill the silence just while you do your laundry. You think that you should play a whatever instrument and mix it with a computer and dance it at a club when you’re drunk. But this is not just playing. This is not just pop music. This is technique. But you don’t bother to think that those tragic pop albums you listen to when cleaning are the job of a lot of musicians that spend a lot of their time searching for the right sound for you to bounce your little head. And it was in 1990 that U2 decided to explore new sounds and tried a lot of different equipment to release that album that you are wearing right now and probably you found at a tragic gas station, in the casual corner. You think this all is not about you, but in fact you’re listening to something that had been selected and produced in this very room, by those very people, playing with this stuff ”.

[carry-the-sky]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by my one and only brainpipe bestie @ninzied ♡

How many works do you have on ao3?

43!

What's your total ao3 word count?

163,202

What fandoms do you write for?

mostly good omens at the moment, but i am also tinkering with an old kanthony fic. i have so. many. hellcheer wips collecting dust in my google drive. and of course kastle my og, my beloved.

Top five fics by kudos:

say my name (and every color illuminates) - kanthony

the wonderful part of the mess that we made - stranger things trio

warm, solid things - hellcheer

every bit of beating heart - kastle

my head is filled with ruins (most of them, i built with you) - kastle

Do you respond to comments?

always! if i don't, i probably didn't see it.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

definitely any of my older kastle fics 🙈

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably the one lucky dog series? i based the proposal scene (spoilers for a fic that's five years old lol) off of my own, which made me happy, at least!!

Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no!

Do you write smut?

i have, but it's a struggle. the stage management of it all!! it's definitely something i'd like to work on and improve though

Craziest crossover:

probably my good place au. i was hmm shall we say overly ambitious with that idea, but it was a fun covid project!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i haven't!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

in theory i would love to, in practice i think it would stress me out immenselyyyyy

All time favorite ship?

i like nina's answer for this one. i love and appreciate them all for different reasons!! kastle will stick with me forever obviously. truly the fandom to rule them all. ♡

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

the hellcheer detention fic i started for @majicmarker under threat of being pushed into a pool if i didn't finish, oop. wrote about 5k and just lost the plot completely. tale as old as tiiiime

What are your writing strengths?

capturing a vibe. dialogue. exploring smaller moments.

What are your writing weaknesses?

plotting?? i don't know her. also finishing chaptered fics. i probably overuse semicolons and em dashes.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i've done this before with very simple words/phrases. anything more in depth should probably be looked over by someone who speaks the language?

First fandom you wrote in?

kastle!!

Favorite fic you've written?

probably warm, solid things. it's the longest one-shot i've ever posted, and it's personal to me in many ways. i'm happy it seemed to resonate with people!

honorable mention to my most recent good omens fic, which took years off my life to write, but i'm quite proud of the end result; also this kastle ficlet which sort of just fell out of my brain fully-written?? what sorcery????

tagging! (no pressure!): @majicmarker, @redbelles, @heartonfirewrites, @imashybear, @evilbunnyking

@onebatch2batch, @ejunkiet, @malachitegrey, @andromeda4004 and anyone else who sees this and wants to play :)

[starwarstrashy88]

Poor little bug on the wall

Summary : Omega wants to play with her Buirs Tech and Hunter for the day

A/N: Yes I based this on that one episode from Bluey. I started writing this a year and a half ago and only just now finished. I hope you all enjoy my first ever bad batch fic!

Words amount: 3002

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60769225

Summer was always a good time for the Fett household. The five brothers who shared the house on the beautiful planet of Pabu would all agree that summer was their favorite season out of the four. It gave them the excuse to go outside and bask in the warmth of the sun and do all kinds of activities outside as well. And it seemed that their most recent addition to the family, their daughter, Omega, couldn’t agree more. The four year old absolutely loved to play outside. Ever since she was first brought outside on her first few days of summer, her five Buirs could easily tell how much she loved the outdoors and was always eager to explore and discover things in their big backyard

So today was no different as Omega watched eagerly as her Buir Wrecker was busy hanging up a handmade swing made out of old blankets in a tree in their backyard for her to play on. Tying off the two blankets together around the lowest hanging branch, making sure it was extra tight so that it wouldn’t come undone by any roughhousing in it, Wrecker took a step back and admired his handiwork. “Well what do you think, Kiddo? Can I make a blanket swing or what?” Wrecker chuckled in amusement as Omega immediately got up from where she was sitting on the ground and running over before launching herself into the swing, the cloth thankfully catching her and swinging back and forth as she let out excited giggles

“I’ll take that as a job well done. Now then, I’m gonna go take care of the laundry, don’t go too crazy on this thing.” Wrecker joked with a chuckle as he reached down to gently ruffle Omega’s blond curly hair before walking off to go take care of the laundry inside their home. The little girl was now left alone in the backyard, although two of her other Buir were close by. Hunter was busying himself by pulling some weeds in the nearby garden while Tech was up on the back porch typing away at his holopad as he was apparently doing some work from home that day

Omega was able to busy herself with the swing for maybe a good ten minutes, but like all young kids, she got bored fairly fast. That was until she thought of a game to play, a game in which she would need two people to play with. And who better to choose other than two of her fathers that were already present in the backyard? Omega was a wiz when it came to coming up with games, and her Buirs practically had most of them memorized at this point with how many times she’s pulled them into her games to play with her

Hopping out of the swing, Omega quickly made her way over to Hunter who seemed to be taking a small break from pulling weeds, chugging on a spare water bottle he had. But as he was drinking his water, Hunter nearly choked on it when he felt something jump onto his back. “Daddy! Can you play a game with me?” Omega asked with a grin as she looked up at her dad with big wide pleading eyes. Damn those eyes. Hunter could never bring himself to say no to her when she pulled out those pleading eyes

“Well I don’t see why not. I could use a break from pulling weeds for a bit.” He replied with a small grin of his own as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, dusting the dirt off his pants. “Can Buir Tech play with us too?” Omega then asked, tugging on Hunter’s hand in the direction of the back porch where Tech was still typing away at his holopad. “Well, why don’t we go and ask him?” Hunter mused as he began to follow Omega towards the back porch. She quickly ran up the few steps onto the back porch and over to the table where Tech was still typing away

But as Omega came running up to him, Tech pulled his attention from his holopad away for a moment to smile fondly at her in greeting. “Well hello, Adi’ka. What’s got you all excited?” He asked in a slightly amused tone as he watched her bounce on her heels. “Can you play a game with me and Buir Hunter?” She asked eagerly as she grabbed ahold of Tech’s hand and began pulling on it to get him out of his seat. Tech however was unsure. He was awfully busy with his work and preferred to get things done as quickly as possible, but then again, he didn’t want to disappoint his little girl. So he ultimately decided to take a break

“Very well. I can step aside and play for a few minutes.” Tech hummed with a nod before standing up from his seat. “Yes!” Omega celebrated before immediately grabbing Hunter’s hand and Tech’s and pulling them both in the direction of the blanket swing and making them sit down on the ground. “Ok, so this game is called Butterflies.” Omega started out explaining as soon as her two Buir were sat down on the grass. “First the caterpillar crawls into the cocoon and waits to hatch.” She explained while demonstrating by crawling on the ground before climbing into the blanket swing. “Then the butterfly hatches out.” Omega added as she pulled herself out of the swing and began to walk around, flapping her arms to indicate her flying

“Very interesting so far.” Tech hummed in amusement as he watched his daughter explain the game to him and Hunter. “But, the butterfly catchers have been hiding.” Omega then suddenly chimed in as she ran over to the nearby shed in the corner of the back yard, hiding behind it before poking her head out. “They wait for the butterfly to come out and they catch it.” She finally finished up as she came running back over to her Buirs. The game was simple really, but so were most of her games. And her Buirs honestly wouldn’t have it any other way

“Alright, seems easy enough. So who’s gonna be the butterfly first?” Hunter then asked as he looked down at their daughter in front of them. Omega paused for a moment, the gears in her head turning as she decided who should go first before eventually she looked over at Tech. “You can go first, Daddy.” She told him with a grin, to which Hunter chuckled in amusement. “You heard the little lady, Tech. You gotta be the butterfly.” He mused as he playfully elbowed his brother in the arm before pushing himself up onto his feet. Tech merely let out a sigh. “Very well. I’ll go first.” He relented before getting down on his hands and knees and began crawling towards the blanket swing

Omega merely squealed in excitement before running off behind the shed with Hunter so that they could be the butterfly catchers. Once behind the shed, the two of them poked their heads out to watch as Tech climbed into the blanket swing. Of course he was much too big for it and his limbs hung out the sides of it, but it nevertheless held his weight. “You ready to catch the butterfly, Mega?” Hunter asked as he knelt down by his daughter’s side who excitedly nodded in reply. But before she could say anything, something caught her attention on the wall of the shed

Slowly crawling up the wall of the shed, was a little ladybug. Omega was always fascinated by bugs ever since she had first laid eyes on one. She just thought they were the coolest things ever. So to see a ladybug up so close, immediately caught her attention. “Ooo.” She said softly as she got closer to the bug, looking at it up close and getting Hunter’s attention in the process. Then as she watched ladybug climb up the wall, she began to sing a little song that her Buirs taught her

“Poor little bug on the wall. Inching. No one to love him at all. Inching. No one to tickle his toes. Inching. No one to blow his nose.” On the last line of the song, Omega blew a raspberry to punctuate her words before giggling quietly to herself, causing Hunter to chuckle along with her as well. But soon enough their attention was brought back to Tech as he finally pulled himself out of the blanket swing. “My metamorphosis is complete and I am now a butterfly.” He announced before gracefully flapping his arms up and down just as Omega had done earlier

“Ready Megs?” Hunter asked in a quick whisper to which Omega immediately nodded before the two of them immediately ran out after Tech, letting out loud war cries as they did so. Tech couldn’t get far before Hunter practically tackled him to the ground and soon enough Omega landed on top of him, effectively pinning him to the grass. “Gotcha!” She giggled loudly as she looked down at Tech beneath her. “You sure did, Omega.” Tech mused with a chuckle as he reached up to playfully boop her little nose

Soon Omega crawled off her Bui and started to crawl around on the ground instead. “My turn!” She announced with a grin. “Alright go on, Kiddo. We’ll be waiting for you.” Hunter hummed with a grin of his own as he helped Tech up onto his feet before the pair of them made their way behind the nearby shed

Omega wasted no time making a show of herself crawling along the ground, knowing fully well her Buirs were watching her from nearby. All the while she made little “eep”ing noises that she figured a caterpillar would make. Once she was close enough to the cloth swing, she grabbed the edge of it and hoisted herself up onto her feet. She attempted to climb inside but stumbled at first, but that didn’t bring her down. With another “eep eep eep” she pulled herself up and inside the swing with a quiet giggle

Once successfully inside the cocoon, Omega began to sing her bug song, a wide grin on her lips as she did so. Meanwhile at the shed, Tech and Hunter were both waiting patiently for Omega to “hatch” out of her cocoon. But their attention was suddenly brought back to their home when they heard a voice coming from the back porch. Upon looking over, they saw their brother, Echo, waving them over. “Tech! Hunter! I need your help with something!”

The pair looked at each other on what to do. They didn’t want to leave Omega in the middle of her game but upon looking back, she still seemed to be busy away singing her song inside her cocoon. Maybe whatever Echo needed help with wouldn’t take so long and they would be back before she even noticed they were gone. It was agreed. Getting up from where they were hiding behind the shed, Tech and Hunter quickly made their way back to the house and heading inside with Echo

Meanwhile back outside, Omega had finally stopped singing. “Okay! I think I’m ready to be a butterfly now!” She called loudly, giggling in excitement as she climbed out of the swing, flapping her arms up and down as she waited for her Buirs to spring out and catch her. But when nobody came after a few seconds, she figured she’d go to where they were hiding. “I’m flapping around. I sure hope there aren’t any butterfly catchers nearby!” She called as she peeked around the corner to where she thought Hunter and Tech were hiding only to find the place empty

Omega frowned slightly in confusion. Where could they be? Maybe they were hiding somewhere else to catch her by surprise. With a new found sense of excitement, she began to wander around the backyard to look for where her two silly Buirs were hiding. But after a few minutes of searching, there was no luck and Omega only got more and more saddened and confused. Where did they go? Did they not want to play? Upon checking up on the back porch, Omega heard their voices coming from inside the kitchen, so she immediately headed inside to see what they were doing

Upon stepping inside, Omega saw that Tech and Hunter were working away with her Buir Echo at cutting up fruits and vegetables for what seemed to be for lunch, the three of them talking amongst themselves about Force knew what. But that didn’t matter to Omega, all that mattered was that Tech and Hunter left when they were playing with her, without telling her. “Buir…you were both supposed to catch me.” She called to them with a deep frown on her little face

Tech and Hunter both shared a look of guilt and surprise when they heard Omega’s voice coming from behind them. Tech was the first to turn and move over to Omega. “Your Buir Echo needed our help with making lunch, little Star. It took us a bit longer to finish than expected but I promise that we will keep playing once we’re finished.” He explained to her to the best of his ability but even with his reassuring words, she still seemed deeply upset. “Oh…okay…” She said before turning and leaving out the back door and into the backyard

Hunter watched her leave with a deep frown of his own on his lips. He hated seeing his little Ad’ika so upset. He knew they should have told her that they needed to leave the game for a bit so she would be less disappointed but he thought they would finish up sooner than expected. As he gazed out a nearby window, Hunter watched as Omega walked over to the blanket swing and hauled herself inside. Letting out a sigh, he quickly finished up chopping the veggies he was working on and handed the cutting board to Echo. “I’m gonna go make sure, Mega is okay.” He explained before walking out to the backyard

Walking up to the blanket swing, Hunter could just barely see a tuft of Omega’s curly blonde hair sticking out of the edge. “Mega?” He called quietly as he sat down just a foot or so away from the swing. Of course he got no response. Omega was often always quiet when she was upset. “Omega we’re both sorry we left the game without telling you. Echo needed our help with making lunch and we thought we would be back in time for you to come out. We can keep playing if you’d like. Tech shouldn’t be much longer.” He explained as he watched the blanket swing patiently

No response and no movement from Omega. She really was upset. Letting out a defeated sigh, Hunter turned away and looked down at the grass beneath him. On a nearby blade of grass, he saw a little ladybug climbing along the grass. “Poor little bug on the wall…inching. No one to love him at all…” Hunter found himself singing quietly to himself. It was such a silly thing for him to do but he didn’t know what else to do in that moment

But from behind him in the blanket swing, he could just barely hear the smallest voice reply back. “Inching…” Came Omega’s muffled voice. Upon hearing her little voice, Hunter’s lips quirked up into a slight smile and he quickly turned back around to face his daughter. “No one to tickle his toes.” He continued as Omega popped her head out of one of the openings to the swing. “Inching.” She replied. “No one to blow his nose.” Hunter finished off and as soon as he saw a small smile grace Omega’s lips, he immediately reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, nuzzling his nose against hers

The father and daughter soon pulled away from their embrace just as Tech finally made his way out to the backyard. “There you are, Omega.” He called before making his way over to the pair. “I truly apologize, my little star. We should have told you we needed to help with making lunch rather than just leave you in the dark. Can you ever forgive us?” Tech asked with a deep sincerity in his voice. Omega only smiled and moved over to hug him, her little arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you.” She replied, smiling when Tech hugged her back, his arms squeezing around her torso

“Alright, Mega. You can be the butterfly again if you’d like.” Hunter then chimed in an offer. The little girl thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “Actually I wanna be the catcher.” She announced. “Me too.” Hunter added. “I would like to be the catcher as well.” Tech proceeded. “Oh. Well who will we catch then?” Hunter then asked in confusion once he realized that no one wanted to be the butterfly

At his question, there was the sound of humming coming from the back porch as Wrecker stepped outside with a basket of wet clothes. “I’m gonna put these clean clothes away, gonna put these clean clothes away.” He hummed to himself as he made his way over to the clothes line. Omega, Tech and Hunter all looked at each other and smirked mischievously when they all got the same idea

Wrecker was none the wiser to the three people creeping up behind him as he hung up the clothes on the line. But he was soon alerted to the sound of his daughter’s voice when she yelled “Catch him!” And not even three seconds later, Wrecker was tackled into the grass by two of his brothers and their sweet little Ad’ika. The fours laughter all rung out into the open air. Summer was a good time for the Fett house indeed

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Earthly Encounter

Pairing: Q x Counselor Ruby (s/i)

Word Count: 2,797

Warnings: Very light spoilers for Star Trek: TNG S4 E20, none otherwise

AO3 Link

Author's Notes: Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? It feels very nice to be posting a fic again, to be honest. This is just a cute fluffy story that I started like 3 years ago and abandoned because I didn't like the way it came out. I came back to it recently and kinda wondered what the heck I was thinking. Maybe my self esteem is just better! Either way, this was very fun and very cute to write and to perfect, and I hope you guys enjoy it.

Tag list below the cut. Click here or DM me to be added or removed. Reblogs are all seen and very appreciated!! ❤️

@ava-ships, @bee-ships, @beetleboyfriend, @canongf, @clawfull, @cloudyvoid, @discountwives, @dissonantyote, @edencantstopfallininlove, @final-catboy, @gible-love-nibles, @halsdaisy, @hoppinkiss, @hotrodharts, @hyperionshipping, @iyamifucker, @lex-n-weegie, @little-miss-selfships, @little-shiny-sharpies, @loogi-selfships, @lovebugexe, @mintpecks, @mrs-kelly, @nameless-self-ships, @nerdstreak, @paper-carnation, @patches-and-her-selfships, @reds-self-ships, @rexscanonwife, @ship-trek, @spacestationstorybook, @squips-ship, @tiny-cloud-of-flowers, @toogayforthistoday, @p-i-t-s, @winterworlds, @scroldie

Speckles of dust danced in the beams of light shining through the window of the bookstore that Counselor Ruby Ramirez had found herself in on that peaceful afternoon. She fondly ran her fingers across the spines of the books atop the store’s shelf, remembering all of the journeys she’d been on with those stories as a child. It was no wonder this section was labeled as “classics;” even though the shelf stretched to the ceiling and was filled to the brim with books, she hadn’t seen a single title that she didn’t recognize. She spotted a favorite novel of hers, and she was quick to pull it off the shelf and flip to the first chapter. She remembered it all so fondly: the prison and the rose bush, the first piece of literary symbolism that had truly taught her to analyze…

“Oh, what have you got there? Something actually worthwhile, I hope.” The sudden voice in her ear made Ruby snap out of focus with a startled jolt, but even as she whipped her head around to look behind her, she already knew exactly whose smug face she was going to see staring down at her.

“Q! I’ve told you a hundred times not to sneak up on me like that,” Ruby exclaimed as she playfully tapped his chest with the book.

“Hmph, you've hardly said that more than fifty times, actually," Q said with an exasperated eye-roll. "Besides, you can't really call it 'sneaking up' if I’ve been standing right beside you this entire time, my dear.”

Ruby let out a sigh and turned her back to her partner, putting her attention on the book she'd picked out as she leaned her weight back against him. “Well, then, that’s a problem, isn't it? The point of coming here was so you could explore some of the culture that humanity has to offer,” she explained, gesturing to the shelves of books surrounding them. “That meant exploring the selection here by yourself, sweetheart, not just staying glued to me the whole time.”

Q knew this already, of course; this was the second of a four-day vacation that the couple had agreed on taking together, albeit one more reluctantly than the other. He still remembered when Ruby excitedly came up with the idea months ago, the way she had been beaming about how much she could show Q about what it's like to be human. Although he had protested to the trip's merit, the reality was that Q would have taken any excuse to be with his beloved in a way that wasn't disturbing her duties, so he hadn't needed too much persuading.

When Ruby had brought the request for shore leave to Captain Picard, she had described it as "less of a vacation, and more of an experiment.” She had explained, “We've seen already that Q has a sliver of humanity, a seed of compassion nestled deep within him. Perhaps all that it needs to blossom is the right kind of earth?"

While the captain didn't quite agree with the scientific basis of the proposal - or appreciate the wordplay - the Enterprise would already be making a rare orbit of Earth for a routine crew exchange. Many aboard the Enterprise would be taking a few days to visit their families, so there was no reason to deny the counselor the same privilege.

Back in the bookstore, Q was still doing his best to convince Ruby that their time would be better spent, well, anywhere. He placed both his hands on her shoulders to hold her steady against him as he dramatically nuzzled his face into her hair. “But darling, you’re the only thing worth any of my attention on this entire dreadful planet,” he whined.

He suddenly dipped her backwards, making Ruby balance on her heels as he leaned down a great deal to place his face right next to her own and speak in a provocative whisper, “What do you say we just forget about all this and head back home now instead? I'll even indulge you with that ‘cuddling’ nonsense that you enjoy so very much.”

Ruby could already feel her cheeks getting warmer as she failed to fight back a flustered grin; even after all the time she’d been with Q, she had to admit that she was far from being immune to his charms. It wasn’t only what he was saying, but also the eloquent cadences of his voice and the way he was able to stare her down with that alluring gaze that made her fall so hard for him in the first place. Luckily, by now she was at least able to save his suggestion for later rather than give in right away, and she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before replying with a simple, “Very tempting, but no.”

She chose to ignore the way Q rolled his eyes in annoyance for a second time as he pushed her forward again to stand up straight, and instead she showed him the cover of the book in her hands in an attempt to catch his interest. He glanced over the title: The Scarlet Letter. "Look at this, hunny," Ruby said with fondness in her tone, "this was one of the first books I read as a child that sparked my analytical side. I remember the way it made me think about why the author chose to include certain details that might seem pointless, and why the characters would make the choices that they do." She turned her head back up to him and nudged her shoulder against his chest. "It was also the first book that really invested me in romance," she purred with a wink.

Q was not impressed. "It really does sound like a joy, starlight," he huffed sarcastically, "but you have no idea how difficult it is for an omnipotent being like myself to force his imagination to be confined to words on a page."

Ruby had already turned her attention back to the novel at hand. She knew that Q was fond of the sound of his own voice, so allowing him to rant on about the pettiest of inconveniences was the only way he ever felt better about the situation he was in.

Unaware - or just uncaring - that Ruby had turned her attention away, he continued, "Truly, think about it from my perspective. Why would I bother to 'visualize' the events of a novel in my mind, like you lesser beings have to do, when I could simply rewrite reality to bring these events to life? Or better yet, I could probably imagine my own story with a more gripping narrative and satisfying conclusion. In fact, if I may speak honestly, it seems to me that-"

Q's holier-than-thou speech was cut short as he felt a gentle tug on the leg of his trousers, just below the knee. He looked down to see a small child, a boy likely no older than five, staring back up at him with wide hazel eyes. Q grimaced and immediately recoiled his leg, the sudden shift in weight catching Ruby's attention as well. For a moment, there was an intense staredown between the disgusted immortal and the innocent toddler, until at last Q broke the silence and sneered, "Can I help you?"

The child pointed to the top shelf high above his own head. "Can yew get the Robin Hood book for me, mister?" he said politely, a slight lisp to his words as he spoke.

"If I do, will you leave?" Q asked bitterly. The boy's only reply was a thoughtful stare to the side, followed by a smile and enthusiastic nod of his head.

Q hastily located the book on the shelf of the bookcase in front of him, and he didn't hesitate to yank it from the shelving, pinching the very corner of the book between two fingers as he dangled it over the child's head with an outstretched arm, trying to distance himself from the boy as much as possible. "There you are, now please, begone with you."

The boy reached up and took the book into his small hands with a quiet "thank you" as he marveled at the green hardcover and golden cursive lettering. He then looked back up at Q, who had already turned his attention away, hoping for the interaction to be over.

Despite those hopes, the boy suddenly spoke up again. "I like Robin Hood," he lisped.

Q glanced back down with an eyebrow quirked, not even bothering to turn his head as he dryly replied, "Yes, I'm sure you do. Now don't you have somewhere to be?"

The boy shook his head with the same earnest smile on his face, clearly not taking the hint. Before the conversation could continue, though, Ruby - who had been watching this interaction unfold and barely stifling a laugh - stepped forward in front of Q and kneeled down to meet the child's eye level. "You're a fan of Robin Hood, you said?" She asked him with a gentle smile.

The boy gave her another enthusiastic nod and said, “Yeah, my dad tells me the story a lot for bedtime, but he has to go away on a starship, so my mommy said I should read the or… the orange-inal book while he's gone.”

Ruby smiled at his story and adorable mispronunciation. “That's a very good choice. You know, young man,” she said as she reached up behind her to hold onto Q's hand, “my partner Q here is a big fan of Robin Hood too. One time not too long ago, he even made all his friends dress up to act out the story!"

The boy's eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked back up at Q. "Wow, really? Did yew get to be Robin Hood, mister?"

Ruby smiled widely, both because of the boy's reaction and because behind her, she could hear Q faintly saying, "Starlight, what do you think you're doing?" as he recoiled his hand from hers.

But his Starlight wasn't listening; her mischievous side had quickly taken over, and she placed both hands back on her knees as she said with her bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout, "Actually, Q decided to be the big bad Sheriff of Nottingham that taxes all the poor people and makes everyone sad.

"But… that's the guy who Robin Hood fights with," the boy said, staring up at Q curiously. "Why did you wanna be the bad guy, mister Q?"

Ruby turned her head around to meet her partner's eyes. "Yes, why did you want to be the bad guy, Mr. Q?" she parroted the question to him with a cheeky smile.

If all-powerful beings could blush, Q would have been bright red. "Very amusing, Counselor," he huffed, crossing his arms, "but I'm above engaging with this little mindgame of yours. Especially not with this," he gave the small boy a stern glare, "… creature involved."

The boy let out a giggle, making Q arch his eyebrows in shock. It has the audacity to laugh at me?, the immortal brooded in his expansive mind. What could it possibly find so amusing?

"Yew talk funny, mister Q," the child laughed. "I think yew'd be a really funny bad guy."

Ruby chuckled along with him. "Oh, you have no idea, young man."

From around the corner, a soft voice was heard calling out. "Lance? Did you find the book you wanted?" A woman not much older than Ruby stepped forward from behind another aisle of books, and the boy ran to her with his selection brandished above his head.

"Yes, momma! I picked out this Robin Hood book! Mister Q here got it off the shelf for me."

The mother reached down to pick up her child. "Not even gone five minutes and you're already making new friends?"

Q sneered under his breath, "Not quite the word I would use, but-" "That's right!" Ruby addressed the mother, thankful that she hadn't overheard Q's snide remarks. "He's a very sweet boy, he told us all about how he's a big fan of Robin Hood."

"Yep!" The boy beamed proudly. "And, and she said that her partner mister Q played Robin Hood with his friends and, uh, he got to be the Sheriff of Naughty-ham."

"That's Notting-ham," Q enunciated spitefully as he gleaned down at the child. Even if he desperately wanted the interaction to be over, he still would never miss an opportunity to be right about something.

Ruby paid him no mind, in the hopes that the woman would do the same, as she gave both the mother and child a kind grin. "Well, it was lovely to meet you, Lance. I hope you enjoy your book." She took on a tone akin to an ancient English knight as she thumped her a closed hand to her chest theatrically. "Never stop protecting those who can't protect themselves, and fight for justice and truth, just like your Robin Hood."

And unlike Q, she had wanted to say, but she decided that Q had had enough teasing for one day.

Little Lance beamed proudly and copied her motion as he put his own small fist over his chest, clearly taking the words to heart. His mom wore a similar warm grin as she and her son bade the couple farewell and headed toward the checkout counter.

Ruby turned back around to face Q, grinning cheekily up at him as he firmly kept his arms crossed and refused to meet her eye. "That was absolute torture," he groaned, "you know that, right? I'm not sure why I ever agreed to this trip." His partner let out a small laugh at how easy his disposition was to sour, and upon hearing that delightful little giggle of hers that he so dearly adored, he couldn't stop a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked back down at her.

She chirped, "I'm sorry, my darling, but you know I can't resist teasing you.” A smirk overtook her face. “Besides, I believe I remember someone very intelligent once saying that one creature's torment is another's delight."

Q's eyebrows shot up in surprise before lowering in satisfaction, a grin snaking its way across his face as he pulled Ruby in close by her hips. If he had to make a list of all of his favorite things about her, the way that she was able to match his wit so effortlessly would easily clear the top three. Q was more than used to looking down on mortals, feeling superior to them, and he was somewhat justified in feeling so; even when encountering creatures cognitive enough to communicate, it was hardly ever that he came across one that didn't immediately bore him. Even with humans, as fascinating as the species itself was, the individuals were hardly worth stopping for. But there were always exceptions, and no exception has seized his attention, gained his respect, and retained his adoration more wholly than his Ruby.

Indifferent to who around may be watching, Q leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ruby's, allowing her to reach up and hold his face as he kissed her slowly and deliberately.

He just barely pulled away to groan against her lips, "I hope you appreciate my generous patience with you in situations like this." Ruby felt a shudder go through her body; as much as she saw and treated Q as an equal, she couldn't deny that, on occasion, she was exhilarated by the power he always had the capability of holding over her. She brushed any growing stimulation aside as she slyly retorted, "Only if you can appreciate me holding back in situations like this."

That comment earned her another kiss, this one much more brief but still holding just as much admiration, before Q stood up fully again. “Well then,” he sighed, “are we done here?”

Ruby chuckled. “Okay, you’ve been very good today. I’ll check out this book, and we can head back home.”

Q watched his partner as she headed toward the counter, an odd - but not unfamiliar - feeling washing over him as he replayed her words in his mind. He’d been very good today. It was still strange to him that such words of affirmation had any effect on him, even if. He’d never needed anyone else’s approval, or encouragement, or affection before meeting Ruby. He still didn’t need it, he supposed; he already knew that he was the most intelligent and powerful being in the universe. But something about hearing those things from her, the confirmation that there was one person who genuinely thought good of him, cared for him, loved him…

It was quite a wonderful feeling.

[cnroth]

Fanfic Q&A

I was tagged a long time ago by @curator-on-ao3 and meant to do this later when I had time, but then I forgot. More recently, I was tagged by @strkamand, which has prompted me to actually do it this time haha. So thank you both!! 🩵 😘

1. Why do you write fanfic?

Short answer: Cuz it’s fun!

Long answer: I started writing fanfic in 2016 because I had spent the last year and a half clawing my way back to some semblance of sanity after a really shitty time in my life. We got Netflix for the first time and I found my favorite childhood show—Star Trek: Voyager. It was like a warm blanket in the cold.

I still remember playing Star Trek on the playground with school friends, inventing stories of ourselves as original characters on Voyager, and suddenly I had the thought—what if I actually did it? Made an OC that was actually complex and fleshed out and stirred her into the mix? Added more representation of mental health issues to the show? I also applied for grad school around this time with the goal of eventually working in the mental health field.

So I dusted off my old creative writing skills and began making fanfic as a way to share my ideas with other fans, explore ships and characters I thought were interesting and/or underdeveloped, or just enjoy playing with my favorite dolls while processing my own experiences, as well.

And here I am now, eight years later, still doing just that.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

This is a complicated question, because the answer is and has always been the very first story I joined the fandom to share, and one that took me years to tell—the Far From Their Bones series. Technically, it is finished.

That being said, I may-or-may-not currently be working on something closely related to that… 👀

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

I honestly can’t think of anything I’d say. I think that my fanfic journey, bumpy as it may have been, was what I needed to go through to become the writer I am today.

4. What’s your relationship to fic stats?

I rarely check them. Honestly, I post so rarely and a fair amount of my stuff is niche stories few people are interested in reading, my stats are probably shit anyway.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

The closest thing to an answer for this question is I suppose J/C. I used to be fairly prolific in that ship, but the community for that ship was eventually taken over by a few toxic people who manipulated other participants (especially newer ones) into a very narrow idea of what was acceptable as a J/C fan and shit-talked people who fell outside of that, and I ended up deeply burned. It took out my ability to read or write J/C for a long time. I’ve dipped my toe back in here and there since then, and I won’t say I’m done with that ship forever, but it definitely was a major pain having to grieve the loss of a ship that had brought me so much joy.

6. What motivates you to write?

Usually random story ideas that pop into my head when I’m trying to fall asleep at night.

Also, comments can sometimes prompt me to write more.

7. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

I think that’s mostly explained above already. Someday, I might finally write the Hunger Games fic I’ve had in my head for many years, as that series of books/movies was also instrumental in my trauma recovery, but for now Star Trek: Voyager (and occasionally other Trek shows) is where I’m comfortable and inspired.

8. If you’re stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

There are two strategies I use most often to deal with this:

One, making playlists of songs that fit the story in some way, whether through the lyrics or even just the vibe. Then I listen to that on repeat to help drive me into my other strategy, which is…

Two, I use imagery to develop compelling scenes in my head, mentally watching them and shaping them until I feel like I can write them down—even if they’re incomplete. In the end, I may end up dumping the scene, or changing it, or writing the most inspiring scenes first and filling in the gaps between them later, but ultimately the goal is just to get myself moving again.

9. What do you wish people knew about comments?

Comments prompt my brain to make more dopamine and serotonin. As a mentally ill person with a neurodivergent brain, that is HUGE.

I do my best remind myself that I’m writing fic I want to read, and that can often mean not many other people will want it like I do (or have the time to actually read it), but in the end getting comments lets me know I’m not alone and that my exhaustive efforts in creating fic are appreciated.

It’s also just like fucking Christmas morning when I see that email from AO3. Like, massive mood booster.

I also would like people to know that comments have, more than once, given me ideas and/or energy to write more.

10. Maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. What’s that question (and answer)?

Not that I can think of 😊

I have no idea who has already done this, and most people I know who write have been tagged by the ladies who tagged me. If you have already done this, tag me in a comment on your post or something so I can read it!

And if you haven’t done this yet, consider yourself tagged!!

Let’s see ummmm @gijane-7702 @seema-unbound @cheile @caladeniablue @theredheadedcaptain @70thousandlightyearsfromhome anyone else who wants to join 🩵

[elodiah]

10 Questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag @kcscribbler and @lokimobius !

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22, which isn’t too bad considering I’ve only been writing fic for less than 4 months.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

90,309. Ooh, getting closer to 100k…

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Loki/Lokius, although I have written a mini-fic for Red Dwarf (Rimster ship)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always always ALWAYS. Comments, even tiny ones, make me giddy. I reply out of pure, unadulterated appreciation that not only has someone read my fic, but they actually bothered to say something about it too. Such a buzz and deserves a thank you. I often end up writing more in my replies than the commenter wrote, hehe.

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but I’m probably open to it? Although in terms of logistics, the way I write fics isn’t conducive to a collaboration (i.e. tapped out on the Notes app on my phone, I’m not kidding 🤣🤣)

7. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Well obviously right now I’d say Lokius, because I’m hyperfixated and can’t see past that. A year ago I would have said Rimmer/Lister (Rimster) from Red Dwarf. Maybe I’ll say Lokius is my fave, but Rimster is my longest-running (since 1999!)

My Mulder/Scully hyperfixation pre-dates that, but I haven’t ACTIVELY shipped them in many years, I just love them from afar now, lol.

8. What are your writing strengths?

I’m not actually sure? I know I have strengths, but can’t really put my finger on anything in particular. I enjoy writing angsty hurt/comfort, so I’m probably not too bad at that, and I can be good at scene-setting and describing actions, gestures, etc, if my brain is braining sufficiently.

9. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’ve been saying until this past week that I’m 100% incapable of writing softness/fluff (without an angsty, pain-filled preface at least). Turns out it’s not so much I can’t write it, it’s that I can’t write it without being provided with explicit prompts from outside sources! So “coming up with fluff ideas and developing them” is up there as a struggle.

I also don’t have a good time with dialogue. I’ve had compliments on my dialogue a few times which is really lovely, but it does not come naturally to me at all, and I will often avoid making my characters talk a great deal.

10. First fandom you wrote for?

Red Dwarf! My first ever fic, and the only one which is not Loki. I half-wrote it in Jan 2023, then in March this year remembered it, dusted it off, finished it and posted it. I was terrified, but when I woke up to comments and kudos the next morning I felt like I was walking on air, so I dove into Lokius that same day and haven’t stopped. 🥰

No-pressure tagging @silentxsymphony , @mirilyawrites , and @impulsemuppet

[gulliblelemon]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @bigalockwood!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

22

What's your total Ao3 word count?

266,115

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Young Royals. 

Top five fics by kudos

See You (Soon)

Where We Left Off

Please Try Again Later

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm

The Umbrella

(I have a whole kudos spreadsheet and watching the trends is fascinating 😉)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Well, I try to. It sometimes gets a little bit overwhelming, especially at the beginning when there's an influx. But they're all so wonderful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written anything with an angsty ending. I don't think I have it in me 😅

(Unless you count one shots in a series, in which case it's What Am I Going To Do? But that's part of a whole universe that does have a happy ending, so I'm not counting it - although when I posted there was no promise of a continuation of the story, so it was angsty for a while).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings. But I think they all feel like it's a happy ending to that particular part of their story, and will go on to be more after.

Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't as of yet. I still can't really believe that's a thing that happens.

Do you write smut?

No. And the longer I go on, the more I wonder if I should. But then again, I wrote a whole fic that was basically about hooking up without it, so maybe I'll be fine never writing it.

Craziest crossover

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I had The Umbrella translated into Russian and uploaded to ficbook.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a folder full of WIP documents, most of which are just a line or a few sentences scribbled down. Some scenes, some ideas. I doubt they'll all get written, but lots get pulled for other things. And Wille's Month made me dust some of them off and either expand on them or just publish as they were.

But as for actual WIPs that I'm actively working on, I haven't got one that I don't think I'll finish. Once I start, I kind of get to the end by whatever means necessary 😅 Even if it takes me ages.

What are your writing strengths?

Erm... horrible question 😅. Dialogue? Maybe? I don't know. Someone else would have to answer that for me. I think I have a very skewed view of my own writing based on what I do and don't like doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Also horrible question, for very different reasons. Repetition probably. When I have something I just need to get down, I stop paying as much attention to how I'm saying things (what words I'm using, how I'm structuring sentences etc). But luckily @iwouldnevergetintofanfic is pretty good at catching it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. I am not fluent, or even passable really, in any languages other than English. I'm not averse to dropping the odd word in, but in general I write the English translation (since they're speaking in Swedish anyway). I also discovered that the grammar rules are different, so ended up changing a load of stuff back to English in one fic because I wasn't sure which grammar rules to use.

First fandom you wrote in?

Young Royals.

Favourite fic you've written?

I don't know. I like certain ones for different reasons.

Where We Left Off was a massive undertaking. It's over twice as long as the next longest thing I've written (still not long by 'long fic' standards) and I was writing it for nearly a year. (And I'm not sure I'll ever write something that long again, that's not really how my brain works).

See You (Soon) was the first one where I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I think I will always be very fond of it.

I loved the process of writing Making Music, because it was a gift for a dear friend @purplehoodiesandclementines.

But I love them all in different ways 💜

No pressure tags for @unfortunate17, @enjoythesilentworld and @peakotp (and anyone else seeing this that wants to answer - I love reading these. I'll even retroactively tag you if you want!).

[weirdestbooks]

Hi!

Can I request a oneshot where Present-day Ame goes to the past and meets the British empire?

Love your books so much!

Can't wait for the next part the shot heard around the world!

When the Father Had Power (Wattpad | Ao3)

This was written as a request and is not canon to my other stories. It's just a fun request I wanted to write.

And thank you so much! I'm glad you like my books!

When America had woken up in his childhood bedroom at his father’s house, his initial response had been confusion. Most of the people within their system weren’t on good terms with Britain and wouldn’t willingly spend the night at his house. 

America himself was annoyed, knowing now that he might be roped into talking to his father, something that he hated with a passion.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up, “Who decided to spend the night at Dad’s place?”

“Not me or Becca,” James said as if his hatred for Britain were not obvious in every interaction they had, every word James directed towards that man.

“Not I. I have no reason to approach Britain,” Mabel said, her tone curt, “But I…I don’t think it was any of us. None of us have reason…unless there really is personification for that West Florida micronation.”

“I hope there isn’t,” America muttered before looking around, eyes narrowing as he looked around the room. This looked like his old childhood room, which he knew had been rarely used since his independence, but something looked…off about it.

The room wasn’t covered in dust as one would expect, and it looked…it looked lived in, with the same furniture that was there back in the 1600s, furniture America could have sworn was moved out of the room even before his independence.

“James, are you getting a weird feeling of déjà vu?” America asked. 

“I am, yes. I think we should leave. Now…this…this isn’t right,” James said, sounding unusually panicked about their whole situation. America couldn’t blame him. He felt it as well, something pricking at the back of his neck, alarms warning that there was something so unspeakably off about what was happening.

“Agreed,” America said before getting out of the bed and leaving the room. The hallways held the same feeling that something wasn’t quite right and seemed just as outdated as America’s former room.

“You don’t think?” Mabel asked. America shook his head.

“That’s impossible,” he said, cutting off the idea before she even vocalized it. Time travel wasn’t a thing. Britain was probably just trying to delude himself into thinking he was still important and that his kids were still afraid of him.

However, the nervousness grew, and America began walking quicker, hoping to leave Britain’s house before he ran into any of his siblings—or worse, his father. England had become tamer in recent years, but Britain remained as, well, Britain-like as ever.

America should have known his luck wouldn’t hold.

“What are you doing?” Britain’s voice snapped from behind him, somehow not in the soothing, manipulative tone that America was so used to, but one that was clipped and annoyed.

It was how Britain talked to people like France. Even after America’s war of independence, Britain had never dropped the attempts at manipulation in his voice and words.

Why now?

“Just ignore him,” James said, “He can yell at us later for being rude, but we need to regroup and figure out who was fronting when we entered his home.”

America took James’ advice and tried to do just that, but was stopped by Britain grabbing his arm, causing America to turn around, rolling his eyes at his father’s behavior.

“I don’t know how I’m here. I’m about…to…” America trailed off as he finally got a good look at his father.  

His flag was…his flag was wrong. It was his father’s voice, but his face bore not the Union Jack (any version of it) but England’s flag. America’s first thought was to open his mouth, comment on how his father had changed his face to match England, something that his father swore he would never do, when the rest of Britain’s appearance caught up with him.

“Shit. Mabel was right. Time travel,” James said, shock and disbelief in his voice.

Britain looked as human as a countryperson could without being in human form. For most of America’s life, that had been the norm until an ill-advised conversation with Wales led to Britain accidentally triggering the process that gave a countryhuman animal traits, resulting in him gaining dragon features eerily similar to Wales.

Britain didn’t have that.

“Oh my god,” America mumbled as James got close, ready to start fronting as soon as America expressed any sort of discomfort.

“Who are you?” Britain asked again as he looked America up and down. America’s mouth gaped open as he tried to figure out what to say to this past version of his father—a version…a version of his father that was shorter than him.

Huh. Britain had always felt so powerful and intimidating when he was an empire, when America was a colony, but looking at him now, he seemed…so small.

“I’m…your son. From the future,” America said, feeling himself start to unwillingly slide back into the mold that Britain had so lovingly crafted for him. Figures. Over two hundred years, and he still fits in that mold perfectly.

“Finn, I love you, but now is not the time. I can take care of this until we find a way back,” James proposed. America shook his head. He didn’t know why he wanted to stay. Maybe, just maybe, a small part of him hoped that there was something there within Britain that he could find. Maybe he was just sliding back into his mold and wanted Britain to punish him. He didn’t know, but he didn’t want James to front. 

This was important. It was something that America needed to do.

“America, don’t be a stubborn dick about this!” Mabel snapped, but James shushed her.

“He’s not a child anymore. He’s learned to handle Britain, and I can still step in if needed,” he said. 

“My what?” Britain snapped, disbelief in his eyes. America instinctively shrunk in on himself, and although he was taller than his father, a small part of him was whispering that they needed to make themselves smaller, smaller than Britain. He was supposed to be taller, after all.

“It’s me. Jamestown, Virginia, Colonies, whatever name I am going by right now. That’s…that’s me,” America said, voice growing quieter. This was so stupid! Why could he talk to his version of his father but not this one?

“Colonies?” Britain asked, his voice still disbelieving but still surprised, as it slipped back into that sweet, manipulating tone, like poisoned honey, seemingly sweet but with hidden malice.

“Yes. I don’t know how this has happened, Father,” America said, waiting, hoping that Britain would show an ounce of concern, of excitement over a son from the future. Instead, Britain huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Your posture is poor. No son of mine should slouch like that. And take off those glasses; they make you look undignified. And get a haircut. Honestly, what has happened to me in the future if I let you get away with these behaviors,” Britain said, crossing his arms, analytical eyes picking apart America and exposing his flaws to the world, leaving him bare and exposed. “And that rudeness. Clearly, you have forgotten your manners.”

“America, don’t listen to him. He’s a heartless bastard who would see the world burn to feed his own ego,” Mabel said, anger in her voice.

“And none of that is true. You’re just fine the way you are. You’re more powerful than him in our proper time, so clearly, his advice, like always, is useless,” James added.

“If this is the way you behave, then I should at least do my future self a favor and fix things,” Britain said before turning around, waving for America to follow him, “A harsh punishment will do you some good.”

America shook his head, tears building in his eyes. His father was no better in his time. Why did he expect anything different now? He hoped, and he hoped, but it never went anywhere. Why was he always such an idiot about this?

“You want your father to love you. That’s no crime,” Mabel said. 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” Britain said, turning around, a lip curling, anger blazing in his eyes.

“I said no. Fuck you. Fuck you!” America yelled, tears falling, “All I ever wanted was a fucking father, but that never mattered to you. You just wanted something to control! You’re pathetic! Pathetic, you hear me? You can’t stand to hear anything you dislike or stand to give up an ounce of control, and it’s fucking pathetic.”

There was a brief silence as Britan stared at America, face going through several phases of shock.

Then,

“Holy shit Finn,” James said, having clearly been caught off guard by America’s outburst.

“I’m ready to go, James,” America said, shaking slightly and feeling drained. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

[warcats-cat]

Autumn's Bounties

A/N: Another gift fic for @muppenthings based on her delightful OC-verse with my favorite found family, Snuffy and Hilda! Posting a little late for Christmas, but oh well. My apparent writing style is "Better Late than Never"... 😅

This one is short and sweet. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 💜 As always please let me know if I missed a tag!

Or if you prefer you can read this on Ao3.

-----

Autumn.

Autumn meant cool breezes, the end of the warm summer nights. Little creatures storing up their food supplies and preparing for a long rest ahead. Autumn was the mark of the Earth itself preparing to sleep.

Autumn was humans bringing in great harvests, preparing meals for the entire village at a time. Sweet spices and warm drinks. Cozy fires and late nights telling tales of old.

Snuffy flicked his ear. He loved summer, but he really loved Autumn.

It was barely dawn, and the grass near the house was crisp with frost. He could smell rain in the air, coming in in a few hours perhaps. If the storm got too bad, Hilda would invite him inside; they would build a little fire and, if Snuffy was lucky, she would make cinnamon rolls or pancakes. Maybe even potato dumplings.

Snuffy licked his lips. One of the kids in town had been teaching him ‘puppy eyes’ for even better effect.

Hilda would knit, and Snuffy would watch; the soft yarn weaving carefully between long wooden needles. He loved just watching her work, all of the clever little things humans could do with their hands. He loved visiting the craftspeople in town with Hilda, inspecting colorful fabrics and shining metals.

As he got used to the humans, they got used to him. The mail-carrier hadn’t jumped upon seeing him move in at least a month now!

There was a girl in town who liked to visit, just to see Snuffy and ask him about his home and family. The way he had grown up. She had taken a few scales from the yard that he had shed, which at first he’d thought was a little weird, but she never seemed malicious about it, and she had brought back little necklaces with beads and a scale on each one. It was endearing, if odd.

It was nice, at least, to be making his own friends in town.

There was a festival coming up that they had already been invited to; Snuffy received a personal invitation, and was informed that he was now being considered as a member of the community, and was there anything he wanted to bring or would need accounted for? Last year’s Yule celebration had been such an interesting event, and now he was being included in even more.

His tail twitched, and he smiled. The forest around them was getting colder, but in defiance, the humans became warmer.

Out of storage came the warm quilts and thick clothes, ready to defy the sharp winds of winter. Heavy curtains hung to keep the chill from seeping through cracks around the windows. Tall boots replaced thin shoes in anticipation of snow.

Yes, it was barely dawn, now, but the day was already full of promise and excitement. He and Hilda could exchange stories of family and celebration. They could go into town and she could shop while he played with the village kids in the rain. And if he came back with a sniffle, he could just use his ‘puppy eyes’ to ask for warm apple cider.

Time moved past lazily until, much closer to midday, Snuffy found himself watching from the side as Hilda and several other villagers worked; pulling ripe vegetables from the soil, dusting each off with gentle hands, and placing them in different baskets. The community gardens were close to the heart of the village, and everyone was buzzing with excitement for harvest festivals and feasts. Something close to the Yule festival in size, with a massive table for everyone and enough food for everyone to bring guests from other places. Pickling and stewing would begin in preparation for winter, and warm, thick stews would be made to feed the less fortunate among them.

Snuffy’s tail thumped idly against the grass. He had offered a hand, but even in his more human-shaped form, his claws needed somewhere to go. He’d cut a handful of the more delicate vegetables (and of course, they were all delicate compared to his strength), and though the others had laughed with mirth and not malice, and though Hilda had patted his cheek with a warm smile and leather-soft hand, he had decided he would be more effective help keeping larger animals away.

The funny girl was there, too, in the garden. Her boots were caked in mud, and she huffed with the effort of carrying heavy pumpkins and armfuls of tomatoes, but she was smiling brightly. She was singing to herself, the notes soft and lilting. It was quiet; too quiet, perhaps, for the other villagers to listen, but Snuffy twitched a sensitive ear in her direction to catch the song. It was clear this was a song she knew by heart, perhaps had sung many times before. He wondered how she would react if he hummed along.

Hilda was taking a break, now; sitting closer to Snuffy and helping to clean dirt off freshly pulled crops. He thumped his tail again, happily, and let out a low grumbling noise as she leaned against his side.

He liked it here, he decided. Not just living with Hilda, or being in the village. He liked being with the village, sitting comfortably with his favorite people close by. He liked being a part of their community, accepted for all of his quirks and celebrated in spite of misunderstandings. His village was warm, his friends were sweet.

They were his blanket to keep the world’s chills away.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. one step closer

A/N: Hello everyone!! I present to you my very first LoZ fic!!! And also my first ever poly ship fic that's been posted, so I hope I do this as well as I'd like to. This story is actually inspired by a post I came across that was posted by @fangirlingpuggle, who gave me permission to use their idea as story inspiration!! I'll provide a link to the post if you'd like to see it!! Now, one thing I'd like to say about this story is that it's not just a Sidlink fic or just a Linkona fic. It is also a Sidyona fic. It is all three ships. I will try to balance out each one, showing each individual love story, plus the big one of just all three together. I have not yet decided which ship will be getting together first, or if it'll be an all three all at once type of thing, and because of my indecision, I would like to hear from you guys, my lovely readers, as the story progresses, on which ship you think would make the most sense when it comes to getting together first. It all depends on how I write it out, of course, but I just wanted to let y'all know ahead of time!! Last thing, this chapter is a little short compared to where the other chapters will be at length-wise, but it's also just a letter exchange this chapter, so there will be lots more in the next chapter!! Enjoy!!

Inspiration Post

Pairing(s): N/A

Summary: Sidon and Yona exchange a series of letters, keeping each other updated on everything happening in their lives, as childhood friends do

Tag(s): N/A

Word Count: 2,258

Song Inspiration: A Thousand Years By Christina Perri

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Chapter 1]

~*~

[Read on AO3]

[Series Masterlist]

~*~

Dear Lady Yona,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, things around here have been a bit busy. Vah Ruta, the divine beast that my late sister Mipha once piloted, well, something has gone wrong with it. It's caused a near constant downpour of rain here in our domain and if we don't find a way to stop it, our reservoir will flood over the dam and completely take over not only our home, but much of the rest of Hyrule as well. And of course, us Zoras can survive just fine in such a situation, but the others in our land cannot, none of them have such an affinity for water as the Zora do.

With that in mind, I am terribly worried. We've been doing so much research it's making my head spin. I'm not sure I can take staring at another book right now, especially when everything it says is completely useless to our attempts in finding a solution to this problem. I just pray that we find a way to stop it soon.

How are things over in your domain? Good, I hope. I would never wish anything like the mess here on anyone. I miss you much, my friend, though I know if you were to visit right now, I would not be very good company to keep. And alas, I cannot bring myself to leave home at a time like this. As prince, I must face this head on. But once this is all over, we can work out the details, I suppose, no matter how far off that is. Get back to me whenever you find the time to do so.

Sincerely,

Sidon

~*~

Dear Prince Sidon,

Oh my. Please be careful. I, too, will be praying for a quick success in taming that divine beast. I wish I could help in some way. I am sending with this letter the few sheikah books I could find in our royal library, though I'm not sure if they'll be of any help, considering the sheikah have never spent much time here. But it's the least I can do. And do not worry about sending them back once you've looked over them. These have been collecting dust for decades over here. They will be much better off with you.

Things here in my domain are very well, though nothing very exciting has happened at the domain itself. However, recently, I've taken on two new handmaidens. Mother suggested I have them, especially since I've started doing a lot more traveling around our land. Khira and Chroma are lovely, when they're not bickering at least. Chroma can be a bit easily frazzled and Khira is usually very serious and strict. But I just try to remind them both that I am not counting on either of them being perfect. Just their companionship alone is wonderful to have.

But anyways. On your land, you have those winged tribe, yes? Those that resemble birds? I remember meeting one when we were younger, but I never had much contact with them besides that. But in my travels, I came across a very small village of them on our land! All the way across the sea! But they're much more colorful than the one I met. Brilliant greens and oranges and reds. I spent a few days there, learning about them and their culture. It's absolutely fascinating!

I may visit them again eventually, but for now, I've come back to the domain for awhile. I'll be setting out again soon, so I'll be sure to tell you lots more of my next adventure. And once this whole divine beast thing has settled down, I'll come visit your domain as soon as I can. Besides, mother has been a lot more pushy recently when it comes to our...arrangement. She believes it is time for me to finally marry, though I've tried to remind her that it's not just up to her and I, but you and your father as well. But there's no need to worry about that right now. That's for another time. Take care, dear Sidon, and I hope to hear from you again soon.

Yours,

Yona

~*~

Dear Lady Yona,

Thank you so much for the texts you sent. I will be going through them soon.  The rain is still neverending, but we're learning to get used to it for now. It's all we can do. And do not worry, I am being as careful as I can be. But enough of that. I'm so glad to hear of you going on such wonderful adventures, Yona. The... winged tribe, as you say, those are the Rito. It is indeed fascinating to learn of some being on your land, I thought they were only in Hyrule. The way you've described them, I bet they are quite the sight. Maybe one day I shall get to see them as well.

Tell me, what is having handmaidens like? I've always wondered. I have nothing of the sort, though I'm okay with that. Is it true they always follow you around and try to do everything for you that you may usually do yourself? I could never imagine having to deal with such a thing. Though my only experience with them is the few vague memories I have of Mipha having one and the stories I've heard about them, so maybe I'm not one who could be so biased against them.

Oh, yes. Our arranged marriage does seem to be coming up more and more these days. Both here and there, it seems. Father has been talking about it as well. Says he wants me to be prepared for when I finally take the throne, but I'm not so sure that will be happening anytime soon. But I suppose it would be best for us all to talk about it eventually. Once Vah Ruta is back to her normal self, our domain will happily host both you and your mother. Until then, I can't wait to hear of all your adventures to come. Please do keep in touch to the best of your abilities during your travels, I will find great joy in reading about them.

Sincerely,

Sidon

~*~

Dear Prince Sidon,

Ah, yes, the Rito! Forgive me for forgetting their name, it's been so long since I've heard it. Those I found here did not go by that name. They called themselves the Zitty. But they were the same species, I'm sure of it. Next time you find yourself on my land, I will definitely be sure to take you to see them. They're quite the lively bunch, and wonderful company to keep. I think you would fit in very well with them.

Silly Sidon. Yes, some handmaidens are very much like that. However, Khira and Chroma are not. While they do follow me to most places, they do not attempt to do something for me unless I ask it of them, thankfully. I could not handle being coddled in such a way either, so I am very grateful that they are not pushy in that regard. And no worries, I take none of your assumptions unkindly. I am happy to answer any questions you may have, about handmaidens or otherwise. You know that.

That sounds like a very good idea. I'm sure mother would love to spend some time overseas as well. Oh, it's been so long since I've paid a visit, I can't wait. Has any progress been made with Vah Ruta? Did my books help you at all? I apologize if they did not, though I hope that something has been found either way. Please keep me updated.

Yours,

Yona

~*~

Dear Lady Yona,

Yona. I cannot believe what this day has become. I do apologize if my writing isn't the best, I just can't keep myself from shaking. So much has happened in just this last pass of the sun through the sky. I will start with this. All of our research finally paid off and the books you sent me were definitely of great help with that. We learned of the way Vah Ruta works, of her mechanisms and what controls the water she spews. The best solution is to shock her system with electricity, like shock arrows. However, as you know, electricity is deadly to Zora, therefore we cannot use them.

Because of this, we'd begun asking for help. Traveling a bit away from the domain and looking for travelers, asking if any of them would be willing. We had no luck finding such a person, until yesterday. A young traveler was making his way past and I asked for his help. Later I found out that many others had spoken to him as well about what was going on. I asked for his help and he actually said yes! I was beyond grateful. He carried with him armor and weaponry, including a bow and arrow, so I already had high hopes for his success. He made his way to our domain and I did as well, trying to guide him whenever our paths crossed.

I had asked his name when we first met, and I didn't think too much of it at first. His name is Link. I'm sure he wouldn't be the first to be named after such a well-known hero. However, upon bringing him to meet my father, I found that I had been wrong. My father knows this young man. Because this Link is the same exact Link from one hundred years ago! And he came here to our domain to fix Vah Ruta as part of his quest to complete what was started all those years ago.

Oh, Yona, he's even more amazing than either one of us has ever imagined. Even better than all of our childish wonders. Him and I worked together quite closely in order to get Vah Ruta working properly again. I carried him on my back as I swam through the reservoir, getting as close to Vah Ruta as I dared so that he could shoot each of her mechanisms. I would launch him up and he would shoot up into the air, pulling his bow out with such ease. Once he had an arrow nocked, it was like time slowed down just for him. He made perfect shots each time. And then he ventured inside the divine beast to destroy the beast inside, the waterblight created by Calamity Ganon all those years ago, the same one that killed my sister, Mipha.

As soon as he was inside, I returned to the domain and waited anxiously for his return. He was gone for so long. He only just returned about an hour before I'm writing this, and the moon was already high in the sky. And when he finally returned, he looked exhausted. But miraculously, not a single serious injury was on him. He was covered in scratches and bruises, dried blood on most of them, and dirt all over his face, but that was the worst of it. And Yona, oh Yona. He's so beautiful. He's fierce, determined, kind, and gorgeous. I can understand why my sister fell for him so. I can't get him out of my head and my entire body is positively vibrating with excitement.

Now that Vah Ruta is tamed, you must come right away. With your mother, too, of course. You must come and meet him. He'll be staying in the domain for a few weeks before he moves on, so he'll definitely still be here when you arrive. Oh, I can't wait for you to see him. Please, come as soon as you can.

Sincerely,

Sidon

~*~

Dear Prince Sidon,

My friend, I write to you as my bags are being packed for my visit to your domain. Mother is delighted to be taking the trip and much like you, I find myself buzzing with excitement. What you've described...I cannot believe it. Link? The Link? How is that even possible? Oh, I'm sure you'll explain it when I get there. I'm so glad that the threat to your land is no more, I am so very grateful for whatever brought such a hero to your domain.

Oh, I want to know all about him. I haven't felt such a feeling since we were children, Sidon. And even now, my childish dreams are coming back to me, even if I know how silly they are. What do you think he thinks of you? What do you think he'll think of me? Do you think he likes women or men? Maybe both? What things does he like? What things does he dislike? I can't wait to ask.

Oh my, the excitement is overwhelming. I apologize for how short of a letter this is. It's mostly just to tell you that we will be leaving shortly and should arrive soon after this letter does. I cannot wait to see you again, Sidon. Make sure you put in a good word for me with our new hero friend, if it's not too much to ask.

Yours,

Yona

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A/N: What did y'all think?? Please let me know!! I'd love to hear your thoughts!!! All feedback is much appreciated!!!

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