#not to mention creative energy would be less for fic -- and i miss writing fic :(

[brynnmclean]

I have been daydreaming recently about getting five of my female friends + maybe my sister (if I can lure her out of her apartment) to play D&D with me. We could play monthly. I could brave running base 5e so people can play spellcasters. We could make the setting together via Ex Novo and/or the Session 0 System. Or, I SWEAR, I'll read and run Ghosts of Saltmarsh. Or... I could enlist them to help me figure out the starter box for The One Ring 2e which I think starts out with hobbit pregen PCs. It could be fun. Trouble is... I HAVE to wrap up AKB first. I have tried to run multiple campaigns at once and it is Too Much for me (not to mention I have other hobbies)! So. I have to sit on my hands until Spring anyway. Alas.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

dudeeee ik ur reqs are open so why not give this a shot and see what u think abt it! since the new agatha trailer came out I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABT HERRRJDID!! so this is abt her! (plus love ur agatha content!! ive read all of em ALL OF EM)

so.. what abt a AU where agatha is the reader's manager and the reader is a famous actor? this could lead to a dark fic or just a wholesome light one! whichever u prefer ill leave it up to u!

~p.s i hope ur feeling better!! have a nice day and feel free to ignore this if u want to^^

a/n: first off, i love ur energy so much omg, and also SAME! the trailer goes through my mind 24/7 and i’m not mad about it! ooooo i love this idea!! definitely have to take creative liberties bc i’ve sadly never been famous😔 word count: 2.6k warning(s): fun fact: i am making all of these things up, if you're secretly an actor keep everything i did wrong in this fic to yourself - slight jealous!Agatha - friends to coworkers to lovers - agatha definitely knows how to communicate - all movies and characters mentioned in this are worlds/stories i have written- kinda rushed ending but then again i feel like everything is rushed - i really hope you like this! thank you so much for the ask and i am feeling a bit better 🫶🏻 - i really can't write kissing my apologies

i was the saint, you used to adore me

You remember when you first hired Agatha.

You were just beginning to dip your toes into the pool of acting, cautiously testing the waters by sending out your less than perfect resume to anyone who would accept. Agatha was the first, and only, acting manager to respond. She too was new to her field, so far only representing people who specialized in car commercials and medicine ads. She wanted a change of pace and your lack luster resume spoke to her. Some part of you still wanders why she picked to represent you, even though in the end everything worked out incredibly well, you wanted to know why she wanted to work with you.

Because now it seemed like she wanted nothing to do with you.

At the beginning, it was like the two of you couldn't be seperated. Outside of work hours, many movie nights happened, sometimes an excuse for Agatha to show you her favorite directing and acting techniques, sometimes an excuse for you to binge watch Sandra Bullock's entire cinematography. You would fill her inbox with emails of dream roles, she would fill yours with links to acting classes if the number of emails in her inbox from you exceeded 1,000.

She was your best friend.

You missed her.

If you had to pinpoint the time when she started drifting away, it was right after you landed your breakout role of Aerin Fey in the movie Pillars, which became a boxoffice hit, making nearly three times the production cost in theaters. Soon, your portrayal of the multiversal anti hero was on billboards, had sequels and contracts signed, had custom dolls on toy store shelves. It was everything you wanted, seeing little girls inspired by you as you either walked down a red carpet or passed them in the grocery store. You loved signing autographs in the signature Agatha and you spent nights perfecting. You loved taking pictures with fans, almost equally as excited as they were, after all your dream was coming true.

All you wanted was to share these moments with your closest friend but soon Agatha started only filling the manager role in your life. No longer did she appear at your door bearing tubs of ice cream to celebrate a role you had been offered, no longer did she let you cry when you lost a role you had been desperate for. Your texts and emails became dry, only notifying you of roles she had sent your portfolio in for or sending you calender invites for interviews and late night show appearances.

All this was swirling in your head as you scrolled through your old texts with Agatha, your eyes becoming watery as you went further into the messages. You sat in your living room on your large couch, a purchase Agatha practically had to force you to confirm. You still didn't understand why you needed such a large couch or house for that matter, as you were the only one living in the space. It was damn comfortable though. You let yourself sink into the cushions, your mind running wild with theories as to why Agatha suddenly cut your friendship off. Sure, you two would keep a professional appearance when seen together on the carpet but you were absolutely certain people noticed the tense atmosphere between you.

"Bitch if you don't answer this door right now I'm going to assume you're dead and call every TMZ reporter here!"

The voice of your co-star turned friend Wanda Maximoff interupted your self pity episode, making you realize that the pounding you had subconsciously been hearing wasn't a sad theme song your mind created for you. No, it was the furious knocking of the red head. You reluctantly got out of your comfy spot, slightly taking Wanda's threat seriously. You opened your door, revealing your friend holding a folder with Pillar's studio name printed on the side and a bottle of champagne. You nodded to the bottle.

"Where's the rest?"

Wanda laughed, nudging her way into your home, bumping your shoulder with hers.

"Oh so it's that kind of day."

Wanda took her place on your couch, setting the bottle on the coffee table and crossing her legs with the folder in her lap. She patted the spot next to her on your couch, a smile wide on her face.

"Now come on, we have to make sure we know the answers to questions and what not to answer!"

You groaned at the reminder of your TV appearance tomorrow. Which also meant enduring the new cold demeanor of your be-manager. Wanda seemed to read your face as you made your way to sit back on the couch. She patted your knee once you were sat, her face a mix of pity and a bit of anger for your sadness.

"Is Agatha still acting weird?"

You nodded while staying silent, not wanting to cry in front of one of your only real friends. Not yet at least.

"God that's so stupid honestly. The least she could do is tell you what's going on instead of acting like a fourth grader who's favorite swing is being used during recess. I know you love her Y/N, I'm sorry."

You both laughed and choked at Wanda's words.

She was right, you loved Agatha. You've loved her since the first time you met her and your feelings only grew and intensified as your partnership continued throughout the years.

But you'd never say it outloud. That would make it real. And if it was real, that meant the woman you loved hated you and you had no idea why.

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Agatha was leaning against the wall of your dressing room, her eyes glued to her phone as she typed furiously. You watched her in the mirror as your hair stylist put the finishing touches on the style that was supposed to look effortless. Almost as if she could feel your stare, Agatha looked up from her phone to meet your eyes in the mirror. You felt heat rise up to your cheeks as your own eyes widened, standing up a little to quickly. Realizing once you were up that you didn't have a reason for such a reaction.

Wanda burst into the dressing room, her red dress sparkling in the light.

"They want us to walk on stage together, shall we?"

Wanda held out her elbow for you to hold on to, winking in an exaggerated way. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Agatha's intense glare at Wanda but decided that you weren't going to let your manager's weird behavior affect this interview. You hooked your arm through Wanda's, playing along.

"We shall!"

Agatha followed behind the two of you, her stare burning into the back of your neck as the two of you walked onto the stage, cuing the raging applause and cheers from the audience. Agatha stayed off-stage, watching with crossed arms and an expression that could take down the toughest of tough.

The lights were burning and bright as you and Wanda took a seat next to each other across from the interviewer. You immediately regretting your choice in seat as Agatha stood across from you in the wings, her stare like ice as it stuck to your skin. Taking a deep breath, you plastered on a wide smile as you were introduced. Purposefully ignoring Agatha, you focused on how the interviewer angeled her body towards Wanda, indictating who she would be asking a question to first.

"Ok, I got to say," Darcy Lewis, the host of this show, threw her hands in the air as if she was giving a confession, "I can't ask any questions about the movie until I get confirmation about something that's happened in your life recently, Wanda."

Wanda smirked, obviously understanding where Darcy was going, You, however, were confused, your eyes flickering between Darcy, Wanda, Agatha, and the audience, hating the feeling. Your smile stayed plastered on, not wanting to reveal your confusion. Wanda met your eyes and reached over to cover your hand with hers, her left hand on top almost purposefully. You looked down to see a beautiful ring with a braided band of gold set with a sparkling diamond of reasonable size.

"Oh my god!" You gasped out, grasping Wanda's hand and bringing it embarassingly close to your face. Wanda and Darcy laughed, the latter clapping as her vague question was answered in a hilarious way.

"I can't believe it's taken you this long to notice!" Wanda laughed out, tugging her hand back to marvel at her ring herself, "I've only been parading it around for a week!"

You flushed with embarassment, a real smile painting your lips as you covered your face with your hands. After the crowd calmed down, Wanda confirmed outloud what the ring symbolized.

"A little over a week ago, my long time partner, who I met on this set by the way, proposed to me in the park we had our first date. Oh, he was so nervous but I couldn't let him finish his speach I was so excited! Obviously I said yes."

You wanted to give your friend a giant hug but decided against climbing over the arms of the chairs, choosing to keep your dignity as you didn't want your dress to ride up too much.

Darcy continued with the interview, the air of the stage light and friendly as you and Wanda evaded questions and made jokes about being trapped in these roles until you're 90. You realized once the interview was almost over that you couldn't feel Agatha's stare on you anymore. Since you had been actively avoiding the spot she was standing in the whole time, you hadn't notice her slip away. A spark of anger lit in your chest as memories floated around your mind. What had you done that she deemed worthy enough to sever your relationship?

You were surprisingly thankful when the interview was over, everything becoming a blur as you made it back home. Wanda had a date with her fiance, Vision but told you that she wanted to get coffee the next morning. You already knew you would be needing that coffee, as you had a few pages of script to begin memorizing for a cameo scene you were doing for a spin-off show of Pillars.

You wanted to just curl up on your couch and binge watch old Disney movies but you forced yourself to walk in circles around your living room, script in hand as you acted out your scenes. A few hours in, you were getting frustrated. Your mind just wouldn't grasp the script, each line entering your mind quickly but leaving even quicker. You were about to learn how to use your fireplace just to burn the papers when your door shook with someone knocking. It was rapid, almost desperate and it sent a sense of urgency pooling in your gut. You practically ran to your door, afraid of what you would see on the other side. Did someone die? Oh god, hopefully Wanda and Vision didn't break up that would be awful-

The door swung open.

It was Agatha.

Her eyes were ablaze with an emotion you couldn't pin point, her hair was a mess but it only added to her beauty, and she was gripping her phone so hard in her hand that her knuckles were white.

You were frozen in the doorway, your eyes wide and your jaw slack. Agatha just stared back at you, her chest heaving as if she had ran all the way to your home. Blinking, you broke yourself from your trance, and against the voices in your head that sounded suspiciously like a specific redhead, stepped to the side to let Agatha in. She barged in, going to stand in front of the couch, arms crossed as she continued to stare at you. Wringing your hands, you decided you wanted to mend what was broken.

"I'm just practicing for the shoot in a week, would you help me? I can't seem to get-"

"Were you ever with Wanda?"

Her sudden question made you choke on your words and you were back to being frozen, the script falling dramatically from your hands. Agatha came to stand in front of you, her face inches from yours. Your tongue was heavy with shock and all you could do was shake your head in denial.

Why was Agatha asking this? Did she like Wanda? That would explain why she wouldn't be happy with you, as you had grown closer to the redhead throughout the years and Agatha didn't.

Something clicked in your mind, reversing your sinking stomach into nervous butterflies.

But if she liked Wanda, why would she be glaring at her? Unless, the person Agatha liked wasn't the now engaged redhead and was-

"Y/N, please, I need you to answer me."

Agatha voice contradicted her body language, her words broken and shaky, as if she was afraid of a potential answer. Her hands flexed in the postition of her crossed arms, as if she wanted to reach towards you. You took a deep breath, preparing your answer.

"Is this why you started avoiding me? Because you thought I was with Wanda? I've only ever been her friend, Agatha and we only grew as close as we are because you stopped talking to me! God, I thought you hated me!"

Agatha's eyes lost their iciness and filled with panic instead. Her hands shot out and grasped your arms.

"Hate? No, I love you! I though the giant annoucment at the interview would be that you were in a relationship with Wanda! I didn't want to ruin your relationship with her because of my feelings!."

You shrugged Agatha's hands off your arms and took a step back.

"So you ruined ours? All because you thought your feelings were unreciprocated?" Agatha's eyes lit up with hope at your words, "Wanda's been with Vision for years, all you had to do was open Google!" You had started to raise your voice towards the end, all your frustration being let out at once. Agatha shrugged sheepishly as she slowly stepped to once again be close to you.

"I didn't want to be right."

Agatha smiled nervously as she brushed a hair from your face.

"I didn't know what to do and I'm terribly sorry for how I acted. God, Y/N, it hurt seeing you with someone who wasn't me. I thought you just wanted to be friends. "

Her whispered apology melted away the ice that had been hardening your heart for protection and you reached up to cup her face in your hands. Agatha leaned into your touch, her eyes closing for a second before opening and almost blinding you with how much hope was shining towards you.

"I loved being your friend and it really hurt me when you took that away but," you smiled at Agatha, shifting to be even closer to your manager, "I would love to be even more."

Agatha smiled softly, her eyes saying everything her words couldn't. Her smile melted into a smirk as she leaned in, your hands falling from her face so your arms could wrap around her neck.

"I would really love to make up for lost time."

You barely had finished nodding before Agatha's lips crashed into yours, consuming you. Her hands now cradled your face as you kissed, her tongue battling with yours. She started walking, directing you towards the stairs, where the door to your bedroom taunted you with it being far. As the two of you stumbled up the stairs, laughter breaking the kiss, you felt Agatha tugging on your dress, the one you still hadn't changed out of. Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and once you hit your bed, from the look in Agatha's eyes, you wouldn't be leaving it anytime soon.

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a/n: please tell me u liked this bc i loved writing it :) i love this AU idea and would love to expand on it in the future! i wanted this to be a one shot but the potential in this pairing could lead to a series 👀 thank you so much for reading!! hopefully my writing slump hasn't affected my writing too much but i'm going to keep practicing to get better!!

[regulusrules]

FIC RECS: Tore apart my sanity edition

Missed doing those, especially that the brilliance of this fandom is quite endless. You'd think you've read everything, then a fic comes and makes you stare two ceilings above. I think we all have PhDs in ceiling reading at this point.

1. through storm and hellfire by @prattery.

Look, I know I scream a lot about fics, but this time it's so rightfully, I swear. There is something about this one that just unravels you so fully, so reverently. It was a spiritual experience; reading this fic. Anything written by this author is a spiritual experience. If you're new to my blog, you will soon know that I fall apart for such beautiful prose so easily. And the way Arthur was written here.. holy lord in the sky. I haven't survived this fic as of yet (weeks later). It was not Merlin who got kidnapped here; it's our literal hearts.

2. you hold a knife at my throat (i tell you exactly where to cut) by @nextstopparis.

All I can say is that I found this one on the night of my final MA exam and risked failing because I stayed up till dawn reading it. And guess what? I'd do it a hundred times over. Because this fic killed me 🤩 With a knife knowing exactly where to cut 🤩

Whenever it's Protective!Arthur that is as much consumed by Merlin's safety as Merlin was with his, then know I am absolutely and utterly gone. And everything that comes with Arthur teaching Merlin how to wield weapons and its close proximity trope. Oh boy. I was literally killed, I'm telling you.

3. Of Course Falling in Love is Awful. Why Else Would They Call It a Crush? by watchriverdale.

Respectfully, how does this marvel of a fic have less than a thousand reads?? If I may, it's one of the best AU - Canon Divergence that I've read in so long! Merlin being an actual physician, Arthur making silly excuses to go visit Merlin and it ending up for him falling head over heels, BAMF elements of both, just everything! Absolutely AMAZING. And the full circle at the end; what an icon.

4. The Walls of Camelot by spqr. (@andthepeople)

I'm literally not joking when I say my brain function grew and developed more after reading this fic. It was so fully-fledged in a way you don't find in literal published books. The amount of creativity and research combined in this fic.. WOW! You just literally live the war with them, all emotions entangled, all thoughts experienced. I think I had the hardest time processing that the fic ended more than anything else because of how invested I was in the story. I didn't want it to end. It was a wonderful, wonderful ride.

5. I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown) by WingedWolf121. (@lancelotofthelake)

You know when fic writers begin to narrate Arthur through Merlin's eyes and describe him as golden? That is what I would say as the overall feel of this fic. I felt it radiating gold and beauty. It was unmatched, truly. From the AU idea to its execution.. I was hooked all 18K. I'd give it 18K kudos of my own alone. And the way it was written !!! Please. Any Arthur who just loves Merlin a tad too much is unparalleled. And when the same energy is returned by Merlin >>>

Oh and lastly: “Ask me who you were there to me, Merlin.” I'll leave you at that.

+ 1: My heart is readily yours by yours truly.

Have I mentioned how much this one tore my own sanity apart while writing it? (yes. yes I already have like a thousand times, tell me to shut up about it already). But it's for good reason. I am a changed human being after this fic. For better or for worse, I'm still not sure about that.

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 17: VCDRKAA & 18: language & 19: knowledge & 20: again

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 17: VCDRKAA & 18: language & 19: knowledge & 20: again

I hope no one was expecting a line-by line complex exegesis of chapter 17, because I generated a wall of TEXTSLOP. It was never intended to mean anything specific, although I did edit it selectively, for poetry and interest. I didn't really expect anyone to read it, I just wanted them to open the chapter and go "what the fuck is this shit??"

I think I used this page to generate it, which must be twenty years old, at the absolute minimum, and the code is from the 1990s. It's beyond irritating that Markov chain text generators, along with other venerable methods of cut-up and creative mixology, are probably now tarred with the same brush as bullshit like chatGPT. Anyway, you could call it a Small Language Model, in that it only uses the text you put into it, doesn't steal it to do plagiarism, and doesn't require the energy and water usage of a small country to run.

I... had totally forgotten which texts I put into it, and had to spend way too long cross-checking fragments. All I remembered was that the nonsense-title of the chapter was taken from the title-letters of the input books, and it was supposed to be things Iriel had recently encountered, to represent a chaotic vomiting of his subconscious.

I think it's this:

V = 36 Lessons of Vivec

C = Chimarvamidium

D = The Book of Dawn and Dusk

R = A Less Rude Song

K = The Ruins of Kemel-Ze

A = Song of the Alchemists

A = Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi

...but I'm pretty sure there's also Special Flora of Tamriel there, in an uncredited role. I don't think that, or Song of the Alchemists is mentioned as something Iriel reads in-fic, but since Ire's an alchemist, I shovelled them into the word-hopper, too. I suspect I never noticed at the time that Song of the Alchemists is not an alchemical textbook, but silly Marobar Sul doggerel, and not exactly something Iriel would read.

Anyway, please do go ahead and cancel me for "writing fic with AI".

Playlist pick: Of Montreal - Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse. For when you really, really need the drugs to work. Or something to work. Anything. It's all just chemicals, right? C'MON, CHEMICALS!

Once we're done with the psychedelic breakdown, we have a temptation scene, specifically, Iriel wakes up in a wizard's bed, and barely resists intellectual seduction by House Telvanni.

The mage laid the book across the bed and opened it, revealing page after page of writing in Dwemer script.

Neither of them can read it yet, but the book is Divine Metaphysics, one of the three books you need to solve Trebonius' Dwemer mystery quest.

He sighed, and turned another page, revealing a complicated diagram of… Iriel wasn’t sure, but he was interested enough to sit up fully, and examine it. “Chimarvamidium,” he said, eventually.

Iriel is reacting to the diagram in the book of an anthropoid Dwemer construct, a theme that also occurs in Chimarvamidium. The picture under his nose is almost certainly Numidium, something he should be at least theoretically aware of. Tiber Septim used it to conquer Summerset in the Second Era, within living memory of older Altmer, and if Ire wasn't concentrating in history class, he was fourteen years old at the time of The Warp in The West. Admittedly, the giant robot was stomping about in Daggerfall, by then (so no trying to claim it had any weird effects on Ire's developing psyche!), and perhaps even a Dragon Break was barely a blip on his radar, compared to the horrors of being a teenager in Lillandril. Either way, Ire misses the obvious fact about the picture, and makes a more remote connection, something Baladas takes as evidence of a subtler, more esoteric intellectual approach, when it's actually far more to do with:

“I’m sorry. I think I’m still sssomewhat under the effects of an Imperial fuckton of skooma.

Iriel was previously only ever doing moon sugar. Skooma is much, much stronger, more addictive, and, for a magic-sensitive Altmer, extremely psychoactive and hallucination-inducing. He also drank two bottles, straight. Skooma is a liquid, and can be drunk, but is more commonly smoked (inhaled as a vapour?) through a pipe. I am assuming that smoking is the preferred method because the effects are slow and gentle, whereas drinking it is extremely neither of those things.

Yes, fine, the line about skooma being like "eight hundred orgasms tied to a brick" is an echo of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy description of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster cocktail as being "like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick". NO that is NOT a pop culture reference, that's just me stealing shit, which is totally different okay?

“Was that a Daedroth back there?”

Baladas keep a pet Daedroth. Wait... is it a pet? Are they sentient? Some of them are named, and have relationships to other characters that could imply they were intelligent. But... hmm. Dangerous tangent. Let's assume it's just a pet, yeah?

“It’s adorable! What’s its name?” Ire poked it, giggling in delight as it contracted its metal limbs back into its shell.

Again. Please let the record show that the first time Iriel interacted closely with a non-hostile Dwemer automaton, he was overcome with nothing more lascivious or sinister than childlike glee and wonder. You filthy animals.

Poor little centurion, does your daddy not even care enough to–”

He did indirectly call a Telvanni wizard "daddy", though. I can't really defend him from that one, since I'm pretty sure he knew exactly what he was doing*. And so did Baladas, because he shut that bullshit down FAST.

(* exactly what he was doing = being very silly and no-filter. Iriel is not actually looking to get "mentored" by a much older wizard, even if he could find one more interested in doing it.)

“The miners report that a screaming, semi-transparent Altmer, covered in weeds and soaking wet, broke into the eggmine from the lower levels.

This whole bit is confusing, and I don't like it. It's not funny, and it really doesn't matter about the stupid route Iriel took to end up with the book on Baladas' doorstep. But yes, you can get into the Gnisis eggmine via the riverbed outside town, and from there, into the Dwemer ruin and back. If he knew, Iriel would feel smug about the fact Edwinna would have tried to make him go there, on purpose, later, if she hadn't expelled him by then.

“Auri-El, what did you do to them?” Ire had heard about Telvanni methods.

While he hasn't encountered many Telvanni in Morrowind, he would have read things like this, in which Telvanni mages are notorious for being fans of inventive magical torture.

Iriel knew the score. Baladas Demnevanni was a serious Dwemer scholar, [...] He could make far better use of it than Ire ever would. And yet, something in Iriel resisted.

Iriel does know the score, and part of the score that he knows is: while Baladas is much older and more powerful, he's not technically Iriel's senior. Because Ire's not in House Telvanni, or any other structure that makes him Demnevanni's subordinate. Which Ire leaves free to resist. Sure, Baladas could take the book by magical force, but Iriel has enough pride to want to force him to do that, to not capitulate based purely on academic bluster. (Yes, of course Iriel can have a powerful and resilient scholarly ego, while simultaneously having zero self esteem. You've met academics, right?)

“It’s mine,” he said. “I found it. And I never asked you to take care of me.”

Saying this feels good. It's true: he didn't ask to be taken care of. And Baladas' reasons for doing so are cleanly self-interested, and make perfect sense to Ire. There's no messy pity involved, no need to spare the feelings of someone who thought they were being a good person, when you're too bitter and damaged to be grateful. This whole conversation is, in many ways, Iriel's ideal type of social interaction.

I will give you information about the location of Dwemer ruins on Vvardenfell, and in return, you will bring me any more books that you find there.”

The location of known Dwemer ruins on Vvardenfell is not, at this point in time, especially secret information, so Baladas is rather getting the better end of this deal. But if he wasn't, he wouldn't be making it, would he?

The only people qualified are my fellow mages, but Telvanni do not co-operate. Anything they found, they would keep for themselves.

His reasoning checks out, though, so Iriel is inclined to trust him. I really did think Ire would take him the other books at some point, and Ire himself intended to at various points, but... in the end, things got complicated. Iriel comes back to Gnisis, but not to Arvs Drelen, and he keeps all his findings to himself.

“Sweet Mara, no. I just want to be left alone to read.”

“You have just spoken the unofficial motto of House Telvanni.

The problem, I suppose, is that Ire is entirely too Telvanni at heart. It was always touch-and-go, as to whether he'd find an excuse to join the House. After all, he's perfect for it... but that's exactly why he resisted.

Iriel knows he's an obsessive, isolationist weirdo, who's probably going to end up alone in a tower, reading esoterically taboo books all day. Surrounded by robots and summoned Daedra, because that's the only level of social contact he's capable of tolerating. He knows all that, he knows exactly the sort of person he is. He just doesn't like that person. And when Telvanni start tempting him to fully embrace weird hermit mage life, he's forcefully reminded of what Telvanni are known for, and how isolating yourself with only Daedra for company makes you lose all contact with pedestrian concepts like "morality", and "not torturing people to death with lightning spells".

Clearly, Ire's being ridiculous to think his own morality is so fragile, but after the day he's had, he's feeling fragile in all sorts of ways, and unwilling to trust his own limits.

each mage seeks only solitude and freedom to continue his or her work.” [...] “Knowledge may be power,” he was declaiming, “but for some of us, it is enough that knowledge is knowledge.

And Ire's right to question the actual content of Baladas' rhetorical  flourishes: freedom to do what? Power to do what? Knowledge of what? Doesn't it matter? The Telvanni answer certainly seems to be "no". But Ire's experiences with education have left him questioning the value of the "knowledge" he obtained. Certainly, if he was supposed to convert it into power, he appears to have missed a crucial step in the process. He's not sure he wants Telvanni instruction, for taking that step.

He stood up, and began to concentrate a sphere of magicka between his hands. “Where should I send you?”

I have a question about teleportation. What are the rules? Guild guides only transport people to other guild halls, but is that restriction due to rules, or ability? UESP says that guides "maintain magical contact with their counterparts in other branches", but I can't find an ingame source for this. If true, that would explain the restriction, but I'm not sure I buy it. It's possible for a guild guide to send you into a guildhall where the "receiving" guild guide is no longer there, for example during this quest. And the mage who sends you to Mournhold in the Tribunal expansion isn't a guild guide, but sends you as a favour, since she's a "powerful mage".

So: my theory is that it's totally possible for a skilled mage to teleport people to other locations without another linked mage "catching" them, but the right location helps. Receiving chambers are magically set up in guildhalls to act as teleportation beacons, and that's the focus, rather than the other guide. This fits with how Divine and Almsivi Intervention work, not to mention Mark and Recall. Guild guides are trained to be specially attuned to these beacons, but any sufficiently powerful Mysticism expert can sling people into them, as Baladas does, here. Really powerful ones might not even need beacons, though I imagine there are exponential risks to the subject, as the location gets more distant and/or unfamiliar.

So, because it's theoretically possible, if difficult, I also think there are strict rules about where guild guides can send people, just like you can't ask the bus driver to take you anywhere you want, even if he technically could. Because teleportation would have to be a highly regulated skill! You can't just send people anywhere, that could cause all sorts of trouble.

As an aside, every guild guide in Morrowind is a beautiful woman. There's something a bit retro air stewardess about that, isn't there? Male game devs thinking women should be in travel service roles, or something? Hmm.

“Um… Ald'ruhn, please. The Mages’ Guild, for preference, but as long as you don’t teleport me inside a wall, I’ll be happy.”

Iriel's not keen to launch into his Queer Coded Villain arc, yet. So despite Baladas' blandishments, it's back to the loving arms of the Mages' Guild, for now.

“I want you to know,” Edwinna was saying, “that this is not about the Dwemer tube.

...Ah. Never mind.

“Whilst you were gone, some disturbing information came to light. When I agreed to mentor you, I was unaware of the crimes for which you were convicted in Cyrodiil. I’m sure you understand why the theft of magical artifacts is not something I can simply ignore.”

I realised something really funny just now, which is that if Edwinna has been digging into Iriel's background check, presumably through a contact at the Arcane University, then she must know Iriel is also supposed to have straight-up murdered one of his professors. But that's not what's bothering her at all!

“In addition, there is the matter of your drug abuse.

I can only assume that when Iriel took a little too long returning with the Dwemer tube, she couldn't resist the temptation to go through his bedroom. In her ensuing freak-out at finding DRUGS, it emerged that no one had ever actually looked into the squirrelly-looking Altmer's claim on application that he'd studied at the Arcane University.

Ire stopped recasting the Paralyze spell on himself

I was determined to try and find creative ways to use Illusion spells, and to some extent, that was the motive for this whole scene.

He had fully expected to burst into tears as soon as he was alone, possibly sooner, but instead, he found himself gripped by a cold fury.

So, I had planned to get Iriel expelled for a while, and originally I, like Iriel himself,  assumed that he would be devastated, because the number of times he's got himself kicked out of magical institutions is ridiculous at this point. But coming right off the conversation with Baladas, that wasn't where his head was at, at all. He was furious, and when a character gives you the gift of an unexpected emotional reaction, you always gotta lean into it, because it's one of my favourite things about writing. Iriel's vitriolic contempt for the Mages' Guild (and Edwinna Elbert in particular) gave him the motivation to do all sorts of fun things later, and really channel that "I'll show those fools at the institute!" energy. Even if he never did join House Telvanni.

At the last minute, he stopped, turned back, and retrieved Vivec’s Sermon 14 from under the bed.

On the one hand, yes, I am making fun of Iriel for considering porn* an essential, but also... not entirely? At the risk of getting too brutally real about mental illness, masturbation can be a key hammer in the mental toolbox, albeit one that tends not to get included on cute little listicles of harm-reduction coping techniques like taking bubble baths or snapping an elastic on your wrist. For people who spend their lives trying to manipulate their brains into staying above the line marked "basic functionality", orgasm can occasionally seem like the brief boost of feel-good chemicals that might kick it over that line. It is, at any rate, cheaper and safer than many alternatives, and while it's not nearly as effective as skooma, at least you don't have to fight smugglers in a cave for it. Or worse, interact with Tsiya.

*Iriel's current opinion of said text. We can make fun of him for this one.

“I’m sorry, Iriel.” Erranil shook her head, primly. “I’m no longer authorised to transport you.

It is the stupidest fucking thing that you don't have to be a member of the Mages Guild to use guild guide transportation, but if you've been expelled from the guild, they put you on a permanent no-fly list! This was often extremely annoying, ingame.

That said, it was funny to be playing the opposite of a "proper" Morrowind character, who ends up head of all the factions, including being Pope of two different religions at once. Iriel, by contrast, got expelled while still Apprentice rank in the Mages, never got past the early ranks in Thieves, and while he got one or two Imperial Cult ranks, he stopped once it wasn't going to get him laid any more.

But yes, I did get Iriel ingame-mechanically-expelled from the Mages' Guild on purpose (possibly by stealing a spoon?). For immersion. Method gamer, y'know.

next: 21: refinement & 22: fragile previous: 13: legs & 14: plan & 15: claws & 16: door

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 4/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Denver, CO Rocky Mountain Expo Henry thanks the powers that be for allowing Pez to crash the tour for the next two days. And by that, he means he cannot thank Alex enough for arranging for Pez to join them at Rocky Mountain Expo in Denver. He figures it might’ve been him mentioning one too many times how much of a Crescent Valley fan Pez was that Alex perhaps took pity and worked some magic behind the scenes to get him to fly out. Whatever it is, Henry is immensely grateful. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed Pez’s presence. Certainly they’d kept up well with FaceTimes and texts over the last few weeks, but there’s nothing quite like genuine face to face connection with a person– especially when that someone is none other than Percy Okonjo. At his side now, Henry watches Pez drink it all in. The convention center, like every other stop so far, is brimming with people from all sorts of fandoms. It’s chaotic and exciting, all baselines for a guy like Pez.  Alex had left from their hotel earlier than Henry so that he could attend the scheduled fan breakfast and Henry could be available to get Pez sorted. It’s such a small thing, but it was almost as strange being apart from Alex this morning as it has been to be away from Pez these past couple of weeks. Henry hadn't realized just how dependent he’d grown on Alex’s company.

Henry’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he and Pez visit different vendors in Artist Alley where creatives sell their custom made pieces. He takes a look at the screen and sees a text from Alex.

Alex everything going well with you and pez?

Henry smiles and notes the time. There’s still thirty minutes before Alex’s panel and having the experience firsthand, he can just imagine Alex behind the scenes, keeping busy to work out his excited energy.

Henry Indeed. Would it be alright if I brought him round to meet you now? Or would after be better?

Alex now pls!

“We’re being summoned,” Henry says, pocketing his phone again. 

Pez doesn’t need any more prompting and Henry leads them through the crowds to get to the hall Alex’s panel is being held. He’s surprised but pleased to find Alex already waiting for them by a private set of doors. Henry’s heart does a funny little swoop seeing Alex standing there, greeting them with a smile.

“Alex. I wanted you to meet Pez.”

Alex beams his thousand-watt smile at Pez.

“I feel like I already know you. Henry talks about you all the time. Nothing but good things, I promise,” he says.

Pez looks more and more like the Cheshire Cat as his smile overtakes his face.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, as I live and breathe,” Pez says in a scarily good Southern debutante accent.

“You’ll have to forgive Pez. He has consumed far too much American media from the time he was a small, impressionable child. I fear the damage cannot be undone.”

Alex laughs. “It’s paid off pretty well. That sounded authentic as hell. You could give me a run for my money.”

Pez, unshakable formidable Pez, actually giggles at the compliment.

“You’re a charmer. Go on now. Keep saying more nice things. I won’t object.”

Henry watches them go, riffing off each other as if they’ve known each other forever. It feels like Henry has entered into an alternate universe of some kind, watching his worlds collide.

“I’m sure you guys must’ve made plans, but if you’re interested, I’d love to take y’all out for dinner tonight,” Alex says.

Pez’s eyes light up. “I’m sure we could shuffle a few things around,” he says, looking at Henry for confirmation. He nods and Pez smiles.

“We’d be delighted. Dinner sounds positively lovely. Thank you,” Pez continues.

Henry turns to Alex. “We could all meet back in the hotel lobby at quarter to 7 perhaps?”

Alex nods. “Yeah, that’d be great. Things should be pretty hectic at the expo today. I’ll look into making reservations nearby afterwards."

Voices carry a bit louder from inside the hall.

"I should probably get back," Alex says. "But have fun you guys and enjoy the panel. Pez, it was really nice meeting you. I will absolutely be expecting a truckload of embarrassing stories and any overall dirt you might have on Henry, so start brainstorming now,” he says with a wink.

 Henry already rues turning them into co-conspirators.

Pez smiles and wiggles his fingers at Alex before he leaves them to head to the greenroom. The moment Alex rounds the corner, Pez does an unseemly victory dance right there in the corridor.

“How can you possibly stand being around him all day every day without wanting to jump his bones? He’s even more attractive in person. That’s just unnatural. Dare I say, it’s supernatural.”

Henry touches his hand to his forehead.

“Come on. Let’s go grab our seats. They’ll be starting shortly.”

~*~*~

The secret of his true dynamic with Alex haunts Henry like a tell-tale heart. Each time Pez mentioned Alex’s name after the panel and now back here in their hotel room, Henry feels as if he could choke on the secret.

“I’ve hit rock bottom,” he says, apropos of nothing as he and Pez watch an episode of Crescent Valley on his laptop in bed.

“Welcome! There’s plenty of room down here,” Pez says, yanking Henry to rest his head in his lap. “Come now, tell Auntie Pezza what ails you, my darling.”

Henry sighs and hits the spacebar, freezing the show. It’s a small mercy that it isn’t a scene with Alex. He’s not so sure he’d be able to get through this conversation with Alex’s face right there in front of them.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Pez’s fingers scratch lightly against Henry’s scalp.

“My dear Henry, you’re a writer. I need you to put your fancy degree to good use and elaborate for me, love.”

Henry looks away, unable to maintain eye contact for what he’s about to say.

“Part of me is falling for someone that I shouldn’t. Maybe ‘falling for’ is a bit too much. I need more time to parse it, but I feel…different sometimes.”

Pez’s hand stops combing through his hair.

“Hang on now. You haven’t met anyone new recently that I know of. I mean, there’s that secret midnight hookup back in New York and of course, scrumptious Alex. The latter would be bonkers, but it can’t be the former. You never got his info.”

Henry bites back on his lower lip. Pez is so close to the mark.

“That’s not exactly true. I sort of…ran into him the next day.”

“Have you any Advil here? I swear you’re giving me a headache talking in riddles like this. You had lunch with Alex the next day and then came straight home, no?”

Pez’s eyes grow wide, realization sinking in. Henry sits up and not a moment too soon as Pez’s hands fly to his mouth and he muffles a scream.

“No! Oh, my god, wait. No. There’s just no way! You don’t mean to say…Alex is Javier?”

Henry looks down at his hands, suddenly very fascinated with them.

“Well, now, that just shattered all my illusions. Pity he wasn’t good in bed. As fit as he is…hmm.”

“He wasn’t good that first night, no. But since then…”

“Since then! ” Pez shrieks, completely scandalized. “Grab the smelling salts! Get me a lounge chair! I’m going to pass out, I swear it. This is simply too much for me to take,” he says, putting a hand over his heart.

Pez shakes his head almost cartoonishly.

“Do you mean to tell me you two have been shagging this whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Henry says reflexively. “Look, Pez, you cannot say a word to anyone, do you understand?”

Pez’s face grows serious, all his theatrics subsiding at the drop of a hat. 

“I give you my word. You know that. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

Henry nods. “No, I know. I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing anxiously at his temple. “I’m just…there’s so much riding on this, you know? The book, my contract. Most importantly though, he’s only out to his friends and family right now. This isn’t even my secret to tell. But, heavens, Pez, I feel like I’ve been dying keeping this in. Things are so good with us. I’ve been loving being on this tour.”

“Well, I should think so,” Pez says, smirking a little. “If I were spending my nights tangled in the sheets with none other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, I’d be having the time of my already fabulous life too.”

Henry shoves him gently.

“You’re horrible, but I’ll admit, that’s been an added bonus. But honestly? I simply like being around him. He’s clever and funny and smart and infuriating in the best ways at times…I don’t know. It’s been fun getting to know him.”

Pez’s brows furrow a bit.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Hazza? It actually does sound an awful lot like you’re falling pretty hard here. I assume you two have struck up a deal of some sort with guidelines?”

“It’s just casual. Platonic even. I’m merely giving him pointers in the bedroom and by the time I leave from the tour, that’ll be the end of that. We’ll both move on from this,” Henry says.

Pez doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I don’t think you can put a hard deadline on feelings. No offense, but casual has never quite been your factory setting.”

Henry shakes his head. “It’s fine. This is so unlike me. I’m only being silly now, getting swept up in the secrecy of it all.”

Pez grins. “That I can understand. This is terribly salacious. I’m eating it up with a bib and a spoon.”

Pez hums and taps his chin. “Now, let’s back it up just a taste for one moment, honey. When you say he’s improved since New York…”

Henry buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to give me something here,” Pez insists. “You’ve been sitting on an absolute treasure trove of a secret for weeks now!”

Henry looks up and takes a deep breath.

“He…takes instructions very well. He’s a rather quick and adept learner. An enthusiastic one at that.”

Pez’s smile grows even wider which Henry didn’t think was humanly possible.

“I’d absolutely hate you if I didn’t love you so much. I’m dying. Good on you though.”

Henry laughs at the absurdity of Pez’s praise.

“Anyway, I needed to tell someone before I popped, so thank you for indulging me.”

“No, no. Thank you, my dear, for this cup of delicious, piping hot tea. I’m all the more excited for dinner now, to get to know the kitten who has gotten my best friend so smitten.”

~*~*~

After an incredible dinner at one of the trendiest restaurants Henry has ever been to, Pez insists they keep the night going with drinks downtown. It’s truly a marvel to see how easily his best friend is able to be at home anywhere, even a place he’s only now visiting for the first time.

From the moment they entered the club, Pez took his place on the dancefloor like a king holding court among his subjects. He dances with perfectly good strangers, cozying up to a few of them. Henry is already wondering if he’ll have to arrange to sleep elsewhere tonight.

He shakes his head to himself as he reaches for his drink where he and Alex sit in a corner booth, away from the crowd but with a perfect view to see it all.

“You told Pez about us,” Alex says out of the blue, a statement not a question.

Henry bites nervously on his bottom lip, stunned. He thinks back to dinner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He actually thought Pez did a good job of hiding the fact that he was in on the secret. Yet still, Alex clearly picked up on something.

“I did. I’m sorry. I promise, he wouldn’t tell anyone. Subtly may not be his strong suit,” he says, glancing over Pez with his bubblegum pink hair and flashy sequined jacket, an all-out blur on the dancefloor, “but discretion is. He knows you aren’t out. He’d never in a million years breathe a word of any of this.”

Alex nods and smiles. “If you trust him, so do I. Honestly, I’m not worried. In all fairness, I told my sister and Nora.”

Henry can’t even begin to absorb that information or the possible implications of it. It’s just enough to know that this dynamic between them felt worthwhile enough for Alex to tell the two closest people to him.

“And do they think us mad for this?”

“Actually, no. They damn near threw me a party,” Alex says, reaching for his beer and laughing to himself.  “Your fan club increased by two automatically.”

Henry lifts a brow. “Am I to assume you’re a member too?”

“Sweetheart, I’m the president. The founding member.”

Henry smiles demurely and shakes his head. 

“Once again, I must say, you do wonders for my self-esteem. Thank you.”

Alex eyes him curiously.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Henry says. “What’s on your mind?”

“How the fuck are you single? Not that I’m actually complaining because, selfishly, there’s no way in hell we’d be able to do any of the things we’ve been doing since New York. I’m counting my lucky stars and all that jazz, but still. It’s absolutely crazy to me that you aren’t seeing anyone. I’m sure that’s a conscious choice on your part. It’s got to be. A guy like you wouldn’t have any issues finding a boyfriend if you wanted one.”

Henry rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I’m too closed off.”

“Bullshit. The night we met, you opened up to me. You were so easy to talk to. I felt like I’d always known you.”

This brings Henry up short. He’d felt that same connection with Alex too, but to hear the man echo the sentiment almost identically to how he’d thought about it is slightly disorienting.

“I think we’ve established that night was a special case. It was different with you. I was different with you than I normally am with literally every other guy I’ve pursued. I don’t know why. I just felt comfortable so it was easy, for the first time in God only knows how long to open up. It was a fluke.”

“Or fate,” Alex says. His eyes widen and he blinks twice quickly. “I’m like…I’m not trying to say we’re soulmates or anything,” he stammers. “I just mean, I don’t know. It’s rare for me too to click with someone like that. I think there’s something to be said for two people like us just happening across each other then crossing paths again the very next day. What are the odds of that?”

Henry is quiet as he mulls over Alex’s words. 

“I don’t mean to freak you out. Shit, just forget I said anything.”

Henry shakes his head.

“You didn't. I think you might actually have a point and I don’t know what to make of it.”

He searches Alex's eyes then looks away, back down to his laptop.

“Anyway, to answer your question, I suppose I’m single because it simply isn’t my time right now. I’ve never truly been lucky in that department. Our night aside, I really do have a tendency to guard myself.”

“Why?” Alex asks. “There’s so much good in there. I could see it on day one. That’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“So it wasn’t just my dashing good looks and accent?”

Alex cocks his head to the side and gives him a look.

“I’m serious. I’ve been seeing it ever since. You’re depriving people, Henry. Most of all, yourself and I think that’s the worst part in all of this. It’d be a shame to never share that.”

Henry’s brows furrow. In a way, hadn’t he been letting Alex in this whole time? Henry realizes belatedly that maybe it didn’t count. After all, none of this was actually real. 

If only his heart knew that.

“Shall I get us another round?” he says, rising from his seat, suddenly needing to be away from this suffocating booth.

Alex runs a hand through his hair.

“Fuck. Henry, wait. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Henry says, perhaps too quickly. He tries again, setting his hand down on the table. 

“We’re good. I just…I need a moment is all. Besides, I should probably get Pez a large glass of water before he passes out.”

Alex’s knuckles touch the back of his hand. It’s so subtle and faint, any passerby wouldn’t even notice. But that small point of contact becomes the sole focus of Henry’s entire world.

“You’re sure we’re okay?” Alex asks again.

Henry stares back at him.

“Always.”

~*~*~

Columbus, OH GalaxyCon Day 1

Another week, another time zone and Henry is convinced tour life might actually be the death of him.

When they arrived in Ohio yesterday evening, Henry had felt a bit off. He ignored the feeling, not wanting anything to put a damper on the upcoming con and Alex’s excitement over it. He’d be joined again by his castmates and was looking forward to the big dinner they had planned before they were all parting ways again.

Henry liked how pumped Alex got ahead of and during cons, the way he’d light up at the prospect of seeing familiar faces in the crowds and new ones alike. Since the announcement, Henry has noticed the uptick in fervor from both Alex and fans. The last thing Henry wants to do is give Alex any cause for concern or worry.

He gets through most of the morning at GalaxyCon pretty well until close to noon when Alex’s panel is set to start.

“You okay?” Alex asks. “You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, I think all this traveling is catching up to me.”

Alex puts the back of his hand on Henry’s forehead.

“You feel warm, Henry. You must be coming down with something.”

Henry can hear the worry in Alex's voice.

“I’m fine.”

“I can literally see and feel that you aren’t.”

Henry can hear fans being let into the hall. Maybe all he needs now is just some time away to sit alone with some peace and quiet.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to pop back to the hotel and get some rest.”

Alex’s lips and brows are pinched with concern.

“Of course it’s okay. Do you need anything?”

Henry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. You have your panel to focus on. I’ll be fine.”

Alex doesn’t look convinced and Henry can see the debate he’s having with himself.

He touches Alex’s arm lightly. “I’ll check in with you later. Go have fun out there with your friends.”

Almost on cue, the rest of the cast starts to line up behind the stage. Henry watches them go past but Alex doesn’t budge.

“Go, Alex. I’ll be fine.”

Alex sighs and nods, finally accepting defeat.

“The second we’re done here though, I’m calling you.”

“Fair enough,” Henry says. “I’ll be as good as new by the time you do. You’ll see.”

~*~*~

There’s an annoying pounding sound that makes Henry’s already aching head feel worse as he opens his eyes.

“Henry, let me in,” he hears faintly.

Henry groans and rolls over in bed, instantly regretting the move. His vision feels like a dizzying kaleidoscope. He shuts his eyes again and takes a breath before looking around his room.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been knocked out, but the sun is no longer in the sky and that’s telling enough.

“Henry?” the voice calls again. There are three more quick knocks on the door. “You’re freaking me out. Open up.”

Alex. 

Henry sways as he gets to his feet. It takes a moment for the room to stop feeling like it’s spinning before he walks over to the door and opens it.

On the other side, he’s met with an anxious looking Alex who takes a deep breath of relief.

“Thank God. I was about to get hotel security.”

“I’m fine,” Henry says. 

Alex’s face is incredulous. “You look like shit which I never thought was possible. No offense,” he tacks on. “Shaan has been calling you. I’ve been calling you. I thought you’d passed out though, by the looks of things, I’m guessing that’s exactly what happened. You’re sick.”

Henry rubs at his left temple.

“I need…to sit. You…can keep talking if you want,” he says, stepping away from the door and back into the room.

Behind him, Alex scoffs and presumably comes inside. Henry hears the door close, but it feels like it’d take too much effort to turn around and confirm.

He sits on the edge of bed and wraps the covers around himself like a cocoon.

“I wanted to ask you some more stuff for the book. I just need thirty minutes more. You can go. I’ll set an alarm,” he says, fumbling around the nightstand for his phone but he soon abandons the task when he forgets what he’s searching for a moment later.

“Forget the book. Do you know what day it is?” Alex asks as he approaches his bedside.

“It’s Friday,” Henry mumbles, the comforter falling from his shoulders. 

“Okay, yeah, technically. But it’s also Opposite Day. So, I will be doing the polar opposite of everything you suggest.”

“Alex. How is that— in any way, shape, or form—different from any other day of the week for you?”

Alex grins, his nose scrunching as he does so.

“You may have lost the ability to breathe through your nose, but it’s nice to know your sass is still firmly in place.”

A wave of nausea hits Henry just then, holding him back from making another quick retort. The discomfort he feels must register on his face as Alex’s smile disappears and concern quickly takes its place instead. 

“Come on, seriously, lay down. Please let me take care of you.”

Henry’s tired body responds at once as if it’d been waiting for the command to allow him to finally give in. He settles in on his side and Alex is right there, pulling the comforter over him.

Henry’s surprised as Alex crouches beside the bed, their faces on level as he brushes damp strands from Henry’s forehead. His fingertips are soft against Henry’s skin where they lightly graze him. Alex’s eyes track the movement of his own hand, but Henry can’t look away from the other man's face, taking stock of the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones and his perfect mouth parts slightly. 

“I’ll be right back,” Alex says softly. “I’m going to find the nearest pharmacy and grab a few things for you.”

“I just need to sleep it off.”

Alex scoffs. “Christ, and I thought I was stubborn. I might’ve finally found my match.”

Those words shouldn’t have the power to make Henry’s heart leap. He chalks it up to his sickness for the temporary delusion that Alex could mean anything more. They aren’t a match, even if they’ve been proving to be compatible in virtually every regard. He’s simply not the kind of person Alex actually settles down with.

It’s far too much to think about now; perhaps even when he isn’t feeling like Death warmed over wouldn’t be the best time to attempt dissecting all his complicated feelings.

“You’re the hottest nurse I’ve ever had.”

Alex winks. “If only I’d had time to get a uniform. You’ll just have to use your imagination, sweetheart.”

“A literal interpretation of a fever dream, huh?”

Alex smiles and strokes Henry’s hair again.

“Speaking of dreams, get some sleep while I’m gone.” Henry watches Alex snag his keycard from the nightstand. “I’ll let myself in when I get back. Call if anything changes while I’m out, okay?”

Henry nods, but already his brain is starting to shut down, his eyes too.

He feels a gentle hand against his cheek and what he thinks could be lips on the crown of his head for a brief moment before sleep overtakes him.

~*~*~

When he opens his eyes again, Alex’s back is to him as he sits at the front of the bed. An episode of The Golden Girls is playing on the television and Henry thinks, surely, this fever is playing tricks on his mind.

He sits up slowly and Alex turns at once just as the show breaks for advertisements.

Alex smiles and gets to his feet, going over to the table in the room. Henry sees two tote bags there that Alex begins to unload. The haul is serious, complete with cough medicine, throat lozenges, vapor rub, and even soup and orange juice.

It warms Henry’s heart to see the care that’s gone into this, but he can’t imagine this is how anyone would want to spend a Friday night.

“You’re sweet for this, Alex, thank you,” he says, sniffling a little. He clears his throat.

“You’re going to get sick if you hang around much longer though. You should probably go. I can take it from here. Honest.”

“Do I make for such poor company that you’re giving me the boot already? I’m borderline offended.”

Henry lets out a breath, the closest thing he can muster to a laugh, and gets into bed again, pulling the covers over himself.

“Of course not. I’d just feel even worse if you caught this because of me.”

Alex brings the container of soup over and sets it on the nightstand.

“I’m from Texas. We’re built strong. And besides, I always prepare for the con circuit. At this point I’ve probably got more Airborne than blood running through my veins. I’m good and I’m staying now shh, commercials are over.”

Henry shakes his head to himself as Alex focuses back on the screen and sits beside him now on top of the covers. Henry studies his profile, the sharp angles on a still soft face.

“You must be starving by now and if you aren’t, that’s all the more reason to eat. Here, try a bit of the soup.”

Alex leans over him and grabs the circular plastic container and takes the lid off. Vapors rise from it and it hits Henry then just how hungry he really is. Alex dips a spoon inside and brings it to his lips.

“I can feed myself. I’m not a baby,” Henry protests.

“No, but you’re acting like one. Now shut up and let me take care of you, dammit,” Alex grumbles.

“Your bedside manor could use a bit more work,” Henry says, but he obliges, leaning forward and taking a sip. 

Alex’s eyes look anxious as he watches him.

“Is it good? I went with chicken noodle, a tried and true classic. But if you want something else, I could always—”

“It’s perfect, thank you. You’ve done more than enough, Alex. Seriously.”

He lets Alex coddle him and finishes the soup before taking some cold medicine and orange juice. They watch more TV though Henry doesn’t really pay attention to anything on the screen. His body feels drained again and he's glad Alex had been stubborn and insisted on staying. It’d be an even more miserable scene if he were alone.

He tucks in on Alex’s side and rests his head against his chest.

“I’m really glad you're here,” Henry says after a moment. He listens to the steady drumming of Alex’s heart as the man cards his fingers through Henry’s hair, his dull nails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s enough to lull Henry; he feels himself quickly losing the battle to fatigue all over again.

“There’s no place else I’d rather be. Get some more rest, sweetheart,” he hears Alex’s voice say quietly as he begins to drift. The final word hit Henry’s ear a bit differently. It’s not as if Alex has never said it to him before, but this time, it sounded sincerely affectionate. Romantic even.

His exhaustion and delirium must be at an all-time high and working together to make him conjure up the term of endearment Alex has never uttered in that particular tone before.

~*~*~

Columbus, OH

Day 2

“You missed the cast dinner,” Henry says almost accusatorily, setting his plate of breakfast and mug of tea down on Alex’s table the next morning in the hotel's dining hall.

“Hi, sunshine. Good morning to you too. Slept well then?” Alex replies, popping a grape into his mouth.

Henry frowns as he takes a seat.

“Alex, I’m serious. I just realized you were supposed to meet up with everyone last night.”

Alex shrugs and plucks another grape from the bunch on his plate.

“And yet the world is still spinning. The sun is still shining. It’s not a big deal. I see them all the time and you needed me more. It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

Henry feels his face warm slightly at the sentiment. 

“You didn’t have to sacrifice your night for me.”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. I wanted to be there for you. It’s as simple as that.”

Henry pulls out a chair and sits.

“Well, thank you. I appreciated it.”

Alex smiles. “You look good today. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Considering the fact that you bought up half the pharmacy, my immune system didn’t have a choice but to get itself in order. How much do I owe you?”

“And here I was thinking we finally moved past this. I’m not accepting any form of payment or payback for last night,” Alex says, spreading cream cheese on a bagel.

 Henry smiles to himself.

“You’re infuriatingly stubborn.”

“I might’ve been told that once or twice before, yes.”

Henry laughs and decides he’s better off shifting gears.

“What would you like to do today? Are any of your castmates still in town?”

Alex shakes his head.

“Nah, not for long. They had early morning flights and should be at the airport by now if they aren’t already in the skies.”

Henry bites his tongue to avoid apologizing again.

“Perhaps we could hang out then? Maybe we could get lunch or do something fun before we kiss this city goodbye too.”

Alex grabs his phone and types something into it.

“Have you ever done mini-golf before?”

Henry laughs.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“There's an adventure park near here. Mini-golf, go karts…you in?”

“Are you an adrenaline junkie?” Henry asks, taking a sip of his tea.

Alex eyes him for a moment.

“I’m a fan of most things that get my heart racing. Surely you must know that by now.”

Henry tries and fails not to look affected. Usually Alex saves flirtatious talk like this for their lessons, when they’re in the privacy of one of their rooms.

He figures he’s overthinking it. Anyone passing by would simply think it’s an innocuous statement. Only Henry knows the deeper meaning of his words. It excites him, having this secret hiding in plain sight.

“That makes two of us then. I’m game.”

~*~*~

They unwind after a day of adventure in Alex’s room watching Crescent Valley. Alex gives Henry behind the scenes commentary on what it was like filming on the show and he takes advantage of the insights, letting his phone rest between them as they lay side by side in bed, recording all the stories so that he can add more color to the book.

Henry creates a new voice note and puts the show on pause, switching over to his running notes document.

“Can you talk to me about your journey learning about your sexuality?” he asks. “It’s such a key part to the memoir, I’d love to hear more about that.”

Alex pulls in a breath and Henry feels a bit guilty about switching gears so suddenly. In contrast to how easy it was for Alex to share on-set anecdotes, he seems unsure of where to start now.

“It used to be a distant, vague thing in my head. The first concrete period of time I can pinpoint is freshman year. I played lacrosse in high school,” Alex says. “And I was damn good.”

Henry can picture it easily, Alex in uniform, a complete rockstar on the field. He’s patient as Alex parses his thoughts.

“I’d get super competitive with guys I thought had an edge on me. I can’t really describe it. But sometimes I’d reason, if I could beat them, they’d be impressed and I’d get on their radar. I really don’t know how to explain it,” he repeats. Henry can hear the frustration. “I guess I was seeking some kind of validation. I wanted them to notice me and not just as an athlete.”

Alex sighs.

“I’ve only genuinely hooked up with one guy other than you. I’ve gotten wasted at parties in L.A before and I’ve made out with some dudes, but it was always something I could explain away like, I was drunk or just doing a bit. Messing around, you know? But then I’d think about high school and the way one of my teammates and I would kinda orbit around each other. It wasn’t…the same with him. With Liam,” Alex sighs and Henry doesn’t miss how soft Alex’s voice gets when saying his old teammates name. 

“I didn’t get that competitive streak. It was different. More real. With him, it was like we were on equal ground.”

Alex shakes his head, toying with his fingers.

“We were good friends. We’d hang out a lot after practice or games. We kind of fell into it. I almost don’t even remember how or when I noticed it for the first time, the way we’d hold each other’s gaze a little longer than was needed. Or the way we’d make excuses to casually touch either other in almost stealthy ways. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Point is, it eventually came to a head. We’d be so hopped up on adrenaline after lacrosse most times and one day, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew, we were making out in my room.”

Henry studies Alex’s profile, sees the deep furrow of his brow as if, years later, he’s still trying to understand his actions.

“The first time it happened, I thought that’d be the only time. We were both kinda spooked by it, to be honest. After he left though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about how much I actually liked it and wanted it again. For fuck’s sake, I got off thinking about him and our kiss that night. That was the first time I ever got off thinking about a guy.”

Alex sighs.

“I saw him the next day at practice. At first, we kept our distance in the locker room. We went out on the field with everyone else, and played our parts well. Then he showed up at my house afterwards totally unannounced and it became a recurring thing after that. If we celebrated a win or if one of us had a shitty day at practice...we’d keep seeking each other out. It was mostly always just kissing. But every now and then, we’d touch. Nothing over the top. Hell, we’d mostly just get ourselves off together. I think I was too scared to touch him like that. It would have made what we were doing too real somehow.”

Henry listens on quietly, fully present in this moment with Alex.

“We… I chalked it up to goofing around. Just boys being boys or whatever bullshit I used to convince myself it meant nothing. Liam is actually engaged now to a pretty great guy. We’ve talked since high school, you know, about everything. I thought we were just messing around, but he told me how serious it was on his end, even back then. He’d always felt different than our classmates. He always knew this truth about himself even though he was afraid to say it out loud. He genuinely liked me as more than a friend.”

Alex frowns and collects his thoughts.

“Looking back on it, I feel like such an asshole. Liam had real feelings for me and I know now that I was attracted to him, but we were in two totally different headspaces when we were hooking up. Each time, it was reaffirming something for him. He knew fully that he was gay. For me, at the time at least, it just felt like a way of getting off and having fun. He felt like an exception to everything, an anomaly. I still went out with and hooked up with girls regularly, you know. I didn’t know what it actually meant about me that I was in fact drawn to both.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m glad he and I have had the chance to talk things through. And I’ve apologized to him several times, but it hardly feels like enough. I should have been more careful. I should have seen what that really was. I never meant to hurt him.”

Henry inches forward, his heart breaking as Alex looks at him with wet eyes.

“You’ve done all you can since learning the truth. It wasn’t intentional and I’m sure he knows that. Liam isn’t upset with you, right?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No, but he’d have every reason in the world to be.”

Henry places a hand on Alex’s.

“You can’t beat yourself up over this. You’ve made amends. You were just kids back then. This isn’t easy. You’ve got to give yourself some grace.”

There’s a distant look in Alex’s eyes as he blinks his tears away.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right and logically, I get that. Still, I can’t fully shake it. I can’t help but to wonder what my life would have been like if only I would have realized what it meant that I kept going back to him. Because I really wanted it with him specifically, but it felt like a one-off, like no big deal, you know? If I thought a few guys were attractive, I saw it as just having eyes and being observant. It didn’t feel like some life-altering thing. But in reality? The things I was doing with Liam, the things I wanted to do with him but didn’t have the courage to say…that was a huge turning point and I totally missed it. Sometimes, it almost feels like I was robbed. But it was my own ignorance that kept me in the dark for so long.”

Alex shrugs and looks away and Henry’s heart shatters at once.

“Anyway, that’s a conversation for me and my therapist. I won’t bore you with it any further now,” Alex laughs, but Henry can hear the pain in it. 

He stops the recording. He’s asked enough of Alex tonight.

“It’s never a bore, a bother, or a burden. You can always talk to me. Even if I weren’t tasked with writing out your life’s story, I’d want to listen. I…perhaps it’s improper, but I sincerely do consider you a dear friend, Alex.”

Alex quirks a brow.

“Given the things we’ve done to each other’s bodies, I’d say friendship is the least improper territory we’ve waded into.”

This time Henry laughs as he concedes.

“You’ve got me there,” he relents. 

Alex smiles softly and reaches for Henry’s hand. 

“I appreciate it though. The offer and…you know, you in general. You’re helping me in all sorts of ways, it’s actually kind of crazy. I don’t know if I’ve even said thank you yet, for any of it. But I am grateful for everything.”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to know I can be useful,” Henry says, aiming for levity.

But Alex’s face is serious as he shakes his head and laces their fingers.

“It’s beyond that, Henry. You’re essential to me. I don’t ever want you to forget that.”

[drawthething]

5, 15, 19

5. Who is your favorite side character? One-off character? Antagonist?

Side character: Uh oh you just unlock my Jimmy Jr enthusiasm. Okay okay I'm joking, no rambling this time pffft. My honorable mentions would be Zeke, Rudy, Andy & Ollie, Jocelyn, Ambrose, Branca and Bosco

One-off character: I live for Flip White Fudge and his ma Shelly, they're absolutely legends. There's also the Deli guy whose energy i love :D

Antagonist: Probably Jimmy Pesto 👀Look at that obnoxious annoying awful buttchin. His rivalry dynamic with Bob is so stupidly funny I really do miss it. Him and Trev are also very fun and I kinda wanna see more of his relationship with his kids, they do make one interesting dysfunctional family :D

Honorable mentions would be Cynthia & Logan, very entertaining characters. Their episodes are hilarious and really enjoyable for me

15. Least favorite season?

Alright don't you folks kick me in the butt okay? But season 11 & 12 are just, very disappointing for me. There're only a few memorable episodes, and I can't really recall any moment that's truly hilarious. Most of the storylines are not engaging at all, and I don't think the characters' personalities are as strong and fun as before, like they've all become a less lively version of themselves.

Maybe it's the writing, maybe it's the voice acting. I still love the show, and I appreciate the writers' efforts to make things more emotionally impactful, but comedy and story wise i think it has gone downhill which makes me quite upset :/

19. What’s something you like and something you dislike about the fandom?

Like: This fandom? This tiny funky fandom? I love how fun and creative the folks are. So many great fanworks: the artworks are outstanding, the fics are amazing, and the headcanons and analysis are so interesting :D I love that almost every character or dynamic gets to be someone's fav so I can see them hyperfixating on it for forever. It's a pretty healthy fandom too, I think. No big discourse or whatsoever. Everyone I'm familiar with is so lovely. To all the folks out there keeping the fandom alive, thank you and i love ya :D Be funky and go crazy 🤘

Dislike: Character bashing. I know it's impossible to just enjoy every character of course but eh, sometimes the takes are a little too serious, harsh and one-sided to me. Characters like Jimmy Jr, Teddy, Frond or whoever are flawed in a sympathic interesting way but some folks act like they just committed the worst crime ever and that's all they are. The antagonists? They create conflicts while being memorable and fun (and some of them have *gasp* redeeming traits). We can dislike them of course, but I don't get why someone would want them off the show cuz ya know, they're meant to fulfill a role here. In the end it's a TV sitcom, I think having a more light-hearted and easy take on the characters would make things more enjoyable.

[moku-youbi]

This is so, so fucked up.

Look, I get there is a level of classism in any sort of creative pursuit, because you need free time to be able to work on it, and there are people who simply don't have enough free time, or who are too exhausted in their free time to get in the proper headspace to be creative, and that sucks. However, using AI to create *isn't* creating. It's THEFT.

AI IS THEFT, plain and simple. AI IS PLAGIARISM.

It is generative. It uses other people's words, thoughts, and ideas. And by and large, it uses those without the original creator's permission or knowledge. It uses them without any real understanding of the words. It's simply mimicking.

I get that as someone who writes transformative fiction, this can be a fine line at times. But let me try to make it super clear. There's using another person's work as inspiration or a springboard--taking the characters and plopping them in a new setting or scenario. Taking the setting and creating new characters and scenarios. Taking the plot and changing major events to see how things would play out differently. This is where the writer's creativity and skill comes into play.

With AI, it's basically like taking the source text and just cutting it up and rearranging it and maybe mixing it up with another text or two. And even that could be an interesting experiment, except YOU AREN'T DOING IT! A program is doing it.

This is particularly galling coming from NaNoWriMo. I gotta talk a minute about the first year I did NaNo. This was 20 years ago, when I lived paycheck to paycheck. I was that constantly exhausted person doing temp jobs after losing my job as a waitress. My wife and I had only moved in together less than a year before, and barely made enough to cover rent/utilities/food. So yeah, I was that person who didn't have a lot of free time or energy, but I loved writing and missed writing, and saw NaNo as an opportunity to push myself.

**warning that this story contains mention of suicide in this paragraph** I'd started out strong and steady. It was an original fic. I was so proud of how it was going, at 22,000 words on November 16th. Then, on November 17, 2005, my father killed himself. My relationship with him was complicated, to put it mildly. He had been physically abusive in my childhood, and verbally and emotionally abusive my whole life, but he was a recovering addict, and he'd tried to be a better person. There were moments of profound kindness from him, and he was capable of such beautiful things. He was so intelligent and loving, but also bipolar, and I knew he was just a broken, mentally unwell man who'd also suffered abuse, and I hoped he would continue to heal and change. So his sudden, unexpected death brought up a LOT of shit I wasn't prepared for and didn't fully understand. I was so angry that so much between us was unresolved. That he'd never fully owned what pain and lasting damage he'd caused. And that we never had an opportunity to repair or know one another better or maybe heal.

I was in a daze for days on end. Alternating between numbness and what felt like, at the time, inexplicable bouts of sudden sobbing. I couldn't understand, given how bad our relationship had been, why it impacted me so much. Why, when I'd been younger, I'd wished he'd just die so he'd stop hurting and tormenting us. I basically did nothing but sleep and exercise and go to work. I didn't work on my story for at least 10 days, I'd given up the idea of it as a lost cause as I spent time with my family, got through the funeral, and tried to get back into my daily life.

Then somehow, on the 27th, I decided I *had* to finish what I started. I *HAD* to get to 50k, and I had 4 days to do it. And I did. It gave me something to focus on and achieve when I felt adrift and confused. It was a cathartic experience. The story wasn't complete, but I met the word count and I was proud of what I'd created and accomplished.

If I had used AI, what would that have even meant? What would *I* have accomplished? It would have been a hollow accomplishment. It would have been taking something created by other people and putting my name on it.

Obviously, people can do whatever the hell they want. We're not going to stop people from using AI, and even publishing and profiting off it. But for an organisation like NaNo to legitimise it is just sickening and so deeply disappointing. NaNo is telling me that it's perfectly fine for people to take my work, without my knowledge or permission, and call it their own. Why should I *ever* support them again in any way, shape, or form. I'm SO GLAD I didn't buy a shirt last year, though I'd completed my word count. They're not getting any more of my money.

Who's starting an alternative site for this November?

NaNoWriMo has gone full clown shoes, I fear

fellas... is it classist and ableist to expect people in the novel writing challenge to actually write their own novels?

[matildashoney]

London Town

Loving You’s the Antidote Extra

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin, @detroitkiwis

talk to me about it!

thank you miss @berrynarrybanana​ for creating the sex bucket list fic challenge! i wanted to write something with the mile high club for harry and ames a while ago and this gave me every opportunity to do so. this is pure filth about harry and amelie getting back to london recently after being stuck in malibu during the quarantine.

warning: this is literally 4.4k of filth. i can’t be sorry for what my brain has done. i take no responsibility.

Harry is guarded, to say the least. There was too much happening for him not to be.

One of the security guards that was driving them to the airport got out with Amelie first, making sure that there weren’t any photographers waiting outside for them (which there shouldn’t be, all things considered) and having her get inside to wait for Harry when he was able to get all their luggage and out of the car. Harry was nervous, his hoodie tugged over his head and his passport and identification all sitting in his hoodie pocket. Amelie was wearing the hoodie they bought at a Spice Girls concert the year before, but it was beginning to fit a big snuggly around her tummy and they knew that anyone that saw them would start pregnancy speculations before they could even begin trying to have a baby themselves. Her hand grabs his as soon as he walks beside her, interlocking their fingers and hiding her face in his chest, the exhaustion beginning to set in and the bruising on her hips from the needles beginning to ache as she stands for much too long without rest.

Harry guides them through security, his heart breaking as Amelie knuckles her eyes and desperately clings to her last bit of energy and pouts as his bag gets checked once more and she isn’t able to sink into his embrace as she wants. Considering the amount of time Harry and Amelie have spent together in quarantine, it would have made more sense that they need space, when in fact, Amelie has never been clingier. Not that Harry pays any mind to it. He knows that it’s with the best intentions, all because she loves him and is happy to be with him. Her hormones are messy with the new birth control she was trying, as well, with all intentions to perhaps make her body ready to be pregnant later in the year. All Amelie wanted was a good snuggle a very hefty amount of the day. Harry was happy to give that to her.

Los Angeles International Airport is surprisingly empty, Harry thought there would have been more celebrities trying to get back to wherever they’re from now that flights are slowly beginning to depart again – not that they really should be. Harry is excited to get back to England, London particularly. Amelie, although her heart is in love with California, misses London, misses home. All of the exhibition pieces that she was working on were left there, and for nearly four months her creativity was dry and there was nothing she could think of. Harry misses his family, his home. He even misses Tigger, especially now that he’s been staying with Anne for nearly six months. Harry misses their routine. Amelie misses the comfort of being home.

Malibu is home in a lot of ways.

Malibu is where they said the three words for the first time. Malibu is where they got engaged. Malibu is where they got married on a whim. All of Amelie’s family is nearby and their best friends and godchildren are only a fifteen-minute drive away. Mostly, it’s being together that makes it feel like home. Home is so subjective. To Harry, after travelling for so many years, unsteady relationships, the media overwhelming him with labels and rumours and the way his mental health suffered, Amelie really became the one thing that made the most sense, that made him feel safe. To Amelie, with all that she went through, the idea that someone could make you feel like home was absolutely mad, and there was a nagging voice that always told her she wouldn’t find it, and then Harry waltzed into her life and simply knocked every single thought she had about her life into another world; Harry made her feel as though there was nothing that she couldn’t do, and maybe he was right about that. Home was with each other, no matter where they are or where they go.

Harry squeezes Amelie’s hand, the engagement ring and wedding band ice on his skin. He smiles though, the feeling that the symbol gives him making his eyes sting with tears. He sniffles, drawing her attention and her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He shakes his head, kissing her hairline and nodding to the near-empty terminal that was about to board their flight.

“’ey,” Amelie whispers, brushing her thumb under his eye and moving the mask slightly to kiss his cheek, “you okay?”

“Thought about how we’re married and got all,” Harry mutters, his nose in her hair and laughing to himself. “Don’t know, guess m’heart is softer, now.”

“Always has been, baby,” she smiles, laying her thighs over his legs and cuddling into his chest, her eyes falling shut as he gently rubs her back. “Think they’ll yell at us for laying in the same bed, again?”

“Don’t think so since everyone has to stay away,” he mumbles, taking in the way the ten other passengers for the flight are wearing masks and gloves. “Can’t wait to be home and don’t have to wear this thing.”

“Meaning you’re gon’a be naked in the garden most days and dragging me out with you.”

Harry snickers, meeting Amelie’s knowing stare and shrugging his shoulders, “As long as you’re naked, too.”

“Don’t try your luck, Mr Styles,” Amelie sighs, squeezing his hips as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of her leggings. “Harry.”

“Didn’t wear any knickers.”

“Je ne voulais pas qu'ils me montent au cul pendant douze heures,” she whispers under her breath, trying to avoid the entire terminal hearing that her decision this morning was to go without any knickers on an eleven-hour flight.

Harry smirks, tugging his mask to his chin and pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, “Tu essaies d'entrer dans le club du mile high, chérie?” For a man that slept maybe three hours, Harry is awfully horny at barely four in the afternoon.

Amelie lightly smacks his hand as his fingers inch towards her inner thigh, coming dangerously close to her centre. “Harry, I swear to God.”

“Oh, it could be fun, Ames.”

“Ah, yes, because you,” Amelie’s voice lowers to a whisper that even Harry can barely hear, “fucking me in our seats in first-class sounds like so much fun when we could get caught.”

“’s the thrill of it all, baby.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t use the baby card,” she says warningly, her eyes narrowing at the man she loves with her whole heart, trying to convey her seriousness. Her thighs clench around his hand, a near-death grip to break his movements where his fingertips would brush over her heat.

“Need those fingers, Cherry.”

“Don’t stick your hands in my leggings, then.” Harry smirks at Amelie. “That doesn’t mean you find a loophole and stick your hand over my fanny either, thank you.”

“Mean, technically I’m not over your fanny.” Harry laughs so loudly, the entire terminal turns to face him. “Need you to tell me when the hell you started calling it that, though. Taking to all the slang now that you’re half a Brit, huh.”

“Much less aggressive than calling it my,” Amelie whispers, “cunt. Don’t you think?”

“Quite like calling it that,” he shrugs, weaselling his hand further up her thigh, nearly holding her heat in his palm. “’s mine to call anything, you know.”

“Oh,” she snorts, shaking her head and lightly pushing his shoulder and smirking when he grabs her hand with his other hand, kissing her palm with a smirk. “Is that how marriage works? Don’t think that was on the document we signed.”

“Mean, as far as I’m aware. Got like,” Harry hums, pretending to count on his fingers the number of months since they’d gotten married in March, “three months under m’belt. ‘s kinda like how you say you want my cock in your mouth.”

“Harry, quit it. There are people around.”

“Half of them would need a hearing aid to hear me, honey.”

Amelie shakes her head, “Whipping your best terms of endearment isn’t making me any more inclined to have sex on the plane.”

“Hate to break it to you, angel, but you saying, fanny, doesn’t really give me an inclination to stick my hand in your pants, anyways.”

“Good,” she says, wrapping her hand around his wrist and moving it away, interlocking their fingers and grabbing their bags to walk to the desk to board. “Not to mention, it’s barely four in the afternoon.”

“Oh, time is a social construct, baby. Isn’t that what you say when you’re begging for it in the morning before I have get on a flight out somewhere?” Harry whispers in her ear, smiling at the flight attendant and handing his phone for the boarding passes.

Amelie releases Harry’s hand, tugging her sweatshirt sleeves over her fingers and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate you.”

Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head, his phone stuck in the front of his The Face sweatshirt that Amelie threw onto the bed for him to wear while he was sleeping. “No, you really don’t.”

“Welcome,” one flight attendant says through their mask, oblivious to the sexual tension spurring in between the freshly married couple and the way her hand was holding his simply to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze her breast with his hand hanging limply over her shoulder.

Harry steps inside the row first, and Amelie knows why he’s hiding in the seat that would be the least likely to be seen by the flight attendants. Her head shakes with a sigh, heaving a breath and settling into the chair, giving a warning glance to him as his lips toy with a mischievous grin.

“Garder les mains pour soi.”

“Can’t keep m’hands to m’self for eleven hours,” Harry stresses, his cheek laying on her shoulder as he stares at her through hooded eyelids, the separator pushed away to allow him to cuddle into her, the way her nails are scratching at his scalp making him want her more.

“Harry, yes, you can,” Amelie says, knowing that Harry is trying to wear her down with the dramatic nature of the conversation. Her thighs are warm thinking about the adrenaline that would course through her veins by having sex where they very well shouldn’t be, but with the environment being heavily closed away from interaction, maybe this was just the right time to do so.

Amelie wouldn’t admit that to Harry, though. No. Because that means he won.

“Haven’t touched you in like, three days.”

“Because we had to get all of our things together, see our godchildren, and see my family. Not because I didn’t want to.”

“Alright, well, now we have eleven hours.”

Amelie sighs, carding her fingers through her hair and gently pulling out the tie in her curls and letting the baby pink fall over her shoulders. Through her peripheral vision, she can see Harry roll his eyes, trying to look away as she tugs on the sleeves on the sweatshirt, gently pulling the material away and leaving his eyes to bask over the loose-fitting shirt from his closet and her chest free from any restrictions.

“For fuck’s sake, Amelie,” Harry groans, sitting up and beginning to pull his mask away from his mouth, all the passengers boarded and the flight attendants beginning to go through the safety measures as he’s heard a million times before. “Did you not wear a bra, either?”

“Like you said, eleven hours,” she shrugs, a smirk playing at her lips as she set the sweatshirt over her thighs, dragging the blanket over her body, locking his hand between her legs.

“Know just how to get what you want, huh?”

“Maybe,” she hums, spreading her thighs the slightly amount to give him the ability to roam further across her skin. “Have had quite a few years of practice.”

Harry smirks, taking Amelie by surprise and sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, her thighs unable to be held together as his fingers drag slowly and teasingly across her mound. “About, five years, huh, baby?” Amelie gulps. “Don’t go quiet on me, now. Have had the wittiest comebacks for an hour and now you’re quiet?”

“Harry,” she says through a clenched jaw, trying her swallow back a moan as his fingers delicately trace along her core, arousal collecting on his fingertips as his finger draws over her clit lightly, barely touching her skin. “Either you do it or you don’t.”

“Do you want me to?” Harry smirks, lips ghosting across the shell of her ear and making her sink further into her seat, her thumb between her teeth as she nods shamelessly. “Amelie Fay, tell me what you want or I’m going to take my hand back.”

Harry rarely uses Amelie’s whole name. And by rarely, Amelie means that Harry only uses her whole name – first and middle – when they’re arguing and she won’t listen (which is most of the time) or they’re about to do something filthy and she won’t give verbal consent (which is most of the time they’re taking to exhibitionism). But whenever Harry uses it, fuck, it’s another type of sexy. His accent draws out every syllable, especially when he’s trying to use an accent that her mother has or it’s deeply his own.

Amelie sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and not melt into the chair with the barely-there movements of his fingertips, his middle finger teasing her warmth by dipping in to collect more arousal over her clit. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, what.”

“Need you to use your fingers,” she sighs, his fingers beginning to ease into her warmth and brush against the velvet that squeezes him in. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet,” Harry says strictly, his cheek laying on her shoulder and his lips touching the cut of her jaw. “Have barely touched you and you’re already squeezing me, doll. Maybe I should’ve tried a bit harder to get you into bed, hm? Have I been neglecting you? Horrible husband, you have.”

Harry and Amelie never could describe their sex life as neglected – certainly not that – but it definitely was not what it was when they first got married at the beginning of March. Harry and Amelie tiptoed around the subject because there were days when there was too much frustration to even think about getting naked and sharing their thoughts with the other person. That definitely isn’t what want they wanted, what they promised each other. And so, here they were, three months into the isolation and just being able to go home, and there was a desperation lingering between them that neither really knew was there. Getting comfortable was something they didn’t want, and that’s exactly what they did.

His fingers work at a speed that could only be described as desperate and longing. His thumb pressed against her clit with patterns that have her hips longing to writhe beneath him, his middle and third finger curling inside of her with every thrust, taking a second to ghost across the spot that would have her screaming inside their bedroom.

“Baby, please,” Amelie whimpers, tucking her face into his hair and breathing out through parted lips, squeezing her eyes shut as the flight attendant walks through the aisle, completely unsuspecting of what is happening beneath the linen. “Harry.”

“All over me, honey. Gi’ me all of it.”

Amelie tugs on Harry’s curls, earning a smirk and a grateful kiss, swallowing her moans as the orgasm ripples through her body. Her hands shaking as she grasps onto the blanket and her hot breaths hitting his neck. His hand is coated with her orgasm, his mouth watering at the thought of her taste on his tongue.

If Harry couldn’t go down on her, right now, this is the next best option.

“Get out the fruit and water from your bag.”

“Huh?” Amelie whispers, her eyes barely opening to try and read Harry’s expression. “For what?”

“For you to drink,” Harry smiles, kissing her hairline sweetly. “And so, I can stick my fingers in m’mouth and it won’t look like I just fucked you under the blanket.”

“Christ, Harry,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as he chuckles under his breath. “Do you realise you still have your fingers in me?”

“And?”

“Can’t lean over and grab everything with you puncturing my cervix.”

“Don’t flatter me that much, baby,” Harry quips, nodding towards the bag laying at her feet and gently tapping his thumb against her clit once more. “Already have a big head.”

“Hate you,” Amelie swallows, trying to control her breathing as she leans forward and reaches for her bag, Harry’s fingers wiggling inside her warmth. He is just as needy as she is, at the moment, except, Amelie would rather wait until they are home and can’t be caught. “Here.”

“But, baby, I know you don’t.” He chastely kisses her cheek, gently taking his fingers from her warmth and slowly removing his hand from her pants, pouting his lips, “My hand is cold, now.”

“Unfortunate,” she shrugs, taking a long sip from her water as his tongue licks along his palm, his two fingers suckled between his lips and tasting all that he’s missed in nearly four days. He isn’t used to going that long. Maybe, he’s a bit spoiled in that regard. Harry and Amelie are running on the same sex drive at all times. Call it inspirational in some respects. Amelie has found it quite useful in the exhibitions recently. Harry finds that flattering.

“Quit being a brat,” Harry teases, squeezing her knee over the blanket and standing on his feet, nodding towards the bathroom a few feet away. “Have to wash my hands. Got a bit messy.”

Amelie shakes her head, wiggling around in her seat and shrugging her sweatshirt over her torso, settling under the blanket and laying over the chair, waiting for Harry to get back and cuddle into. Harry smiles at the sight, wiping his hands over his sweatpants and manoeuvring around her legs and settling into his seat. His arms open wide, graciously accepting Amelie as she climbs over into his seat and lays in the reclined bed with him, tucking her face into his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi, Cherry.”

“Can’t wait to go home,” she whispers, yawning as his fingertips drag through her hair. “Miss home.”

“Know you do,” he says, kissing her temple and bringing the blanket tighter over her body. “Me too.”

“Need a really good night of sex, too. Or day. I’m not picky.”

Harry snorts, “Have our other nights not been satisfactory to you?”

“Always the best with you. Don’t worry,” Amelie smirks, kissing his jaw and breathing in his cologne. “Different when we’re home, though. Don’t care about anything or anyone. Can just do it wherever, whenever. Don’t have to worry about my parents or sister, or our friends coming and knocking on our door.”

“Love your sister,” Harry says, his voice hanging on the last word, “but she is the biggest cock block in the entire world.”

Amelie laughs so loudly into Harry’s chest that the flight attendant peers over his novel. “God, you’re right.”

“Need to just be alone with m’missus for a while.”

Her voice is quiet, once again, barely above a whisper as she begins to fall asleep nuzzled into his warmth. “Alright.”

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “No argument? No rebuttal?”

“Not today.”

Harry laughs breathily, shaking his head and kissing her hair, his hands dragging along her spine as she drifts asleep. He stays awake until nearly eleven, waking her to eat and watching a film on his phone until they’ve fallen back asleep together, only waking to the sound telling them to buckle their seatbelts and settle into landing. Harry can see the relief on Amelie’s face, the smile that sits permanently on her lips as the pilot welcomes them to England and Heathrow Airport.

Amelie nearly forgets their luggage when Harry pulls into the garage, rushing inside to see Tigger and breathe in the scent that is permanently a mark of their London home. He tugs in their bags, setting the mickey mouse printed luggage in the foyer and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck sweetly and nosing her hair away from her skin.

“Fuck, ’m happy to be home.”

“Know you are,” Harry smiles, gently biting her neck and licking over the red mark lingering on her skin. His hands squeeze her thighs, lifting her onto his hips and wrapping his arms under her ass, his eyes rolling as their cat begins to rub along his legs. “Not the time, Tigger.”

“He missed you.”

“Flattered, but not really the time. Quite missed shagging m’wife, so that’s the priority at the minute.”

“That sounds really sexy coming from your mouth,” Amelie hums, dragging her thumb over his plump lips.

“Hm?” Harry asks, carefully making his way up the stairs and shoving their bedroom door open, careful to make sure that their cat would not be in the way when the door closed behind him. He became way too good at carrying her up the stairs when they moved in two years ago.

“My wife.”

Harry snickers, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the light with his elbow, setting Amelie on the counter and harshly pressing his lips to hers. “’s what you are, m’wife.”

“Can’t wait to have this on me,” Amelie smirks against his cheeks, her fingertips dragging along his beard as Harry tugs their sweatshirts and shirt off their bodies. “First place you’re going to have sex with me in our house is the shower.”

“Know you better than that to think you’ll let me on the clean sheets after we were just on a plane for twelve hours.”

Amelie giggles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tugging him into her, his arms circling her waist and his tongue tasting her lips, her tongue, her. “Know me well.”

“Hope so after five bloody years.”

“Go turn the water on.”

Harry nods eagerly, walking away and turning the water in the shower, the waterfall faucet sprinkling water over him as he tugs on his sweatpants tie. His head rolls back as two hands skirt along his naked torso, dancing dangerously close to where he wants them most, his cock already painfully hard between his thighs.

“Don’t tease me, now.”

“Am I not allowed to have a taste, either? ‘s been four days, remember?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry moans, squeezing his eyes shut as Amelie’s hands bring his sweatpants over his ass and thighs, her gently hand tugging teasingly over his shaft. “Get in the bloody shower, woman.”

Amelie laughs, taking Harry’s hand and stepping inside the shower, the steam already beginning to fog over the glass doors. His back hits the tile wall, a gasp leaving his lips as she sinks to the ground, her knees printed with the tile, her tongue dragging over the arousal wetting his tip. He moans, the sound spurring her on, his hand running through her hair as she wraps her fingers around his base and begins sucking on his cock, all of him surrounded by her tongue and her wet lips and her warmth.

His stomach tightens, nearly spilling his entire orgasm down her throat. His whimpers as she pulls away makes her laugh, his eyes barely open before he’s helping her stand and grabbing her thigh to wrap around his waist, his cock sliding deep inside her warmth without warning. Her forehead falls to his collarbone, the sensation overwhelming and deeply missed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, their kisses messy and sloppy as his thrust reaches every inch into her core, his thumb drawing shapes around her clit the way he knows she loves.

“Missed this so much,” Amelie moans, her fingers tugging at his curls and bringing his mouth to hers. “Can’t go that long again.”

“Fucking swear on m’life,” Harry grunts, the way his cock is driving into her making her lift onto her toes. “Gi’ me your leg.”

“Do you want to fall over?”

“Trust me.”

Amelie wraps her legs around Harry’s waist, sighing when her back hits the cold tile that is out of the water’s reach, a gasp leaving her lips as his shaft sits deeper inside her warmth.

Harry is grunting mercilessly into her neck, Amelie’s moans echoing inside the bathroom, and to anyone that doesn’t know them, they might have thought that they’d not seen each other for a month, maybe two, with how intense their orgasms spill onto each other. Her thighs shake around his waist, their orgasms dripping out of her and onto his legs as he holds her, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

And their shower isn’t devoid of more touching and kissing, in fact, the water goes cold before they’re fully finished washing up and rinsing the shampoo and conditioner from their hair.

Harry watches Amelie change intensely, soaking in the way she’s never changed the way she looks in their time together – except for the new three tattoos – the way she’s never felt the need to. Harry adores every curve and tattoo and mark and dimple, especially when she’s naked and he’s touching her skin.

“Can you look away for maybe two seconds?”

“No,” Harry deadpans, laying his hands behind him on the bed, the towel still loosely covering his waist.

“Are you going to eat lunch with me?” Amelie wonders, tugging one of Harry’s old shirts on and sliding briefs onto her hips – he never wears them anyways.

“Think I need to go for a run, and then I’ll shower and come back and eat.”

“You want to go for a run? After a twelve-hour flight?”

“Need to otherwise you and me will be in that bed for the next twelve hours,” Harry says surely, taking a deep breath and nodding his already semi-hard cock between his thighs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Amelie breathes, shaking her head and walking to him on the bed. Her lips press against his chastely, once, then twice, smiling when he tugs her onto his chest, and they fall against the mattress.

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Go for your run. Think I can take, like, six hours in bed, with breaks, alright? I’m not a machine.”

“Ooh, a compromise.”

“Married men get three compromises a year, this is one.”

“Deal.”

[arizonapoppy]

Heck if I know.

So my New Year's resolution was to stop whingeing about lack of interaction, because I know my friends are probably sick of hearing it. But let's have one last round for the road.

Long data-fueled rant behind the cut.

I never got the big numbers that every else seemed to get on their BTS fic posts. I did everything "They" said to do to increase engagement. I joined networks, joined fic rec book clubs, participated in gift exchanges, taught myself GIMP to make fancy headers for my fics, made a masterlist, sent other authors asks, posted lots of writing ask games myself, reblogged my stories at different times of day, participated in seasonal writing event challenges, and even grovelled to my contacts in The Possums to use their star power to recommend my stories.

The most interaction I ever got was 70 notes on "Game Night" two years ago. The last two chapters of "All the Things You Are" got literally no notes- not even the porn bots read it. Two of the last three "Mischief Managed" episodes this year got one kudos each on Ao3. My stories consistently rank in the bottom 5% of stories on Ao3 in the BTS tag by both kudos and hits. (I spent a weekend counting once.) While my four friends in the Peanut Gallery (affectionate) have consistently left me beautiful comments and reviews, I have never once received a "fan mail" ask about my BTS fics from someone who is not part of the Peanut Gallery.

My day job is doing IT for a bunch of scientists, so I got data sciencey.

As an experimental control, I created two sock puppet accounts a while back and posted BTS stories to them. One of them is wildly popular: the most popular story I've written in the six years I’ve been writing fanfic as an adult. The other one has seen moderate success by the standards of the BTS fanfic scene. Both have done vastly better than anything I’ve posted on Tumblr or Ao3 as me. But interaction on those "successful" fics has dropped off too.

Maybe it's that people have less time now that quarantine is over.

Maybe it's the vicious circle of spite that "if people aren't going to reblog or recommend my stories or even acknowledge my nice comments, why should I bother leaving nice comments or reblogs on other people's stories?" I don't believe in quid pro quo- I have good fandom friends whose stories are not my thing and my stories are not their thing. But eventually, after faithfully reblogging and reviewing too many other authors' stories to count and being able to count on one hand the authors who ever returned the favor by checking out my stories, I'm done. Why bother putting energy into the system that never pays out to you?

Maybe it's burnout. The Yet To Come era has been some traumatic fandom whiplash that coincided with a deep mental health trough of other reasons. I just want to try out other fandoms and hobbies that don't have the bitter tinge to them. I've got some lovely cheerleaders in my other fandoms, so I've decided to focus my creative efforts on the other fandoms where I get encouragement.

Or maybe it's Tumblr's search functions.

The last straw was around a year ago when I missed a challenge gift exchange deadline because a story I posted vanished into a Tumblr shadow-ban zone. Poof. Gone. It’s nowhere in the tags or mentions. For all intents and purposes, it doesn’t exist if you tried to search for it. I’ve tried changing the tags, resizing the header, all sorts of stuff. [And dammit I was bouncing in my chair for three weeks about that fic, hoping people would like it!]

But the result is the same.

The lack of interaction has caused me to frequently sob on friends’ shoulders across multiple fandoms, been a contributing factor in my burnout, made me doubt my abilities as a writer, cultivated an extremely unhealthy relationship with my stats page, and led me to run out of burner email addresses. You can’t begin to imagine how much better I feel knowing that it’s not anything I’ve done or failed to do; the Tumblr website really does seem to hate me. It’s a sea change.

Any wonder I've walked away from the world of participating in BTS fanfic?

Appendices (a/k/a random other things I’ve observed in my experiment):

Sex sells. My wildly popular fic has a sex scene (although it was popular before the sex scene came along), which leads me to my second bullet:

People will generally not click on an “& reader” fic. My "X reader" fics get much more interaction than my genfic/fluff "& reader" stories. This has lead me to debate with myself the merits of truth in advertising vs SEX (now that I’ve got your attention)-style tagging. I would rather tag honorably and be ignored than annoy a reader with a bait-and-switch.

Making someone’s rec list is really what drives traffic. Finger hearts! to those of you who have recced/reblogged my stories, both here and for the sock puppet account. 

Fancy graphic headers and network reblogs don’t seem to matter. Game Night (my most popular BTS fic under my name) has no header and was published before I belonged to any networks.

You will get more interaction on Ao3 if it isn’t members-locked. (This is logical, as an expanded potential readership.)

Shoutout to the loyal Thryce fandom who will read anything, even when it’s in a foreign language. And the lone Tolkien fan subscribed to my Ivriniel mystery fragment? You rock. I promise, eventually you will get an amazing rest of the story.

One of my favorite quotes is from the movie Red Dawn, where the downed pilot tells one of the Wolverines: "All that hate is gonna burn you up, kid," and the Wolverine says, "It keeps me warm at night." My bitterness has kept me warm for a year and a half, but it's eating a hole in me.

I resolved at New Years that I'm going to just let it go. For my sake, and for the sake of my ever-patient friends who are probably sick of hearing about it from me. <Deep breaths>

Where is Everybody?

Hello there! So, this post here is gonna be a doozy, but I need to get some things off my chest and hopefully, I can get some answers at the end of the day.

For the last few months, I’ve noticed a significant downtick in interactions on here. And it’s not just for my blog, quite a few of my moots seem to going through the same issue as well.

On top of that, the ever-present issue of liking over reblogging seems to have just gotten worse.

The main question I want to ask is why?

Keep reading

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with VivWiley

VivWiley has X-Files stories at more archives than I could list, but you can find the biggest collection (30 stories) at AO3. She's been prolific and around the fandom for a long time. I've recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Autumn's Threshold and Equilibrium. Big thanks to VivWiley for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does and it doesn’t.  As someone who is always discovering new shows and new fandoms, I know that one of the first things I do is go hunting for the related fic.  I love the ways that fanfic can fill in missing gaps, give us other POVs, and just generally help us see characters that we love (or are growing to love) in new lights. The X-Files, in particular, left so many freaking plot holes and jumps in logic, that I suppose it’s logical that people newly discovering TXF would gravitate to the fic.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

First, I should say that my “fandom” experience was really limited to the fanfic for TXF.  I didn’t get involved in discussions about the actors, the show runners, etc. Nor did I go to any of the conventions.  But, from the fanfic experience, I remain astonished by how many smart, funny, wonderful women I met (sorry, guys, I know you were out there, but I mostly didn’t get to know you), and how many of them are still close friends. My life would be infinitely less interesting and rich without all those friendships.

I also took away from that experience a confidence in my own creativity that I didn’t previously have.  I have done a great deal of professional writing throughout my career – policies, reports, protocols – but TXF fic writing allowed me to exercise a whole other part of my brain and heart.  It was fun and also felt like another way of learning and building a skill set I’d lacked.

Finally, I say that it was an early exposure for me to both the good and ill that online communities can foster.  There so many amazing acts of kindness and support.  One of my friends organized the Beta Readers Circle, a group of volunteer fic editors who would read and help you with stories on everything from grammar to “is this character acting in character” questions.  I both used and volunteered with the BRC. On the flip side, some of the discussion threads on the email lists could get a bit ugly.  Forerunner to the comment threads on today’s posts. So, humanity in a nutshell, right?

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I initially discovered XF fic through a Washington Post article that was trying to drum up interest in the World Wide Web (as it was then talked about).  Every week, they featured a list of “hey you might find this cool/interesting” sites, and one week one of the sites they listed was the Gossamer archive.  I dove in and emerged utterly hooked.  I also discovered one of the early fic mailing lists (the name of which now escapes me), and from there I began sending feedback, which allowed me to start building relationships with authors, etc.  I later joined other mailing lists like Scullyfic, Sparky’s Doghouse, etc. I never connected with atxc or the message boards, really.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The characters! Particularly Scully, at first.  It was clear from almost the beginning that the “story arc” (or the notion that there actually was an arc) was pure fiction, but I loved the relationships between the characters, the nuances that so many of them had, and the interplay of the notion of skeptic-believer could have.  And, of course, later on, Skinner was a personal favorite. [Lilydale note: VivWiley wrote a number of really great fics featuring Skinner.]

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

In many ways I think about TXF and TXF fandom in the same way I think about fond memories from high school or college.  Something that helped shape who I am today, in ways that aren’t always straight-forwardly apparent.  I still don’t really get involved (or care TBH) about the lives of the actors, the politics of the show construction, etc. I keep in touch with a large number of fandom alumni, and we will still occasionally reference the show, but our real-life connections have long-since overtaken TXF as our common denominator.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I read and wrote in several other fandoms post-XF, but nothing ever grabbed me in the same way, and I certainly never found the kind of real community that I did through XF.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I think I’m drawn to characters who are human – flawed, nuanced, neither purely good nor purely evil – and who are ultimately driven by higher principle or purpose, even as they make mistakes along the way. From early days, King Arthur was a particular favorite, as are Raederle from the Riddle Master of Hed series (Patricia McKillip), Sam Vines (Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series), and Codi Noline (Animal Dreams, Barbara Kingsolver).

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I did watch the most recent reboot/seasons of XF (and try not to think of them too much as I don’t need that kind of stress).  I do think about Mulder, Scully and Skinner on occasion.  Sometimes when the news reports something particularly weird or absurd, I wonder how Mulder and Scully would react to that, or amuse myself by thinking about how Skinner would be clenching his jaw and subtly undermining the current misuse of federal law enforcement resources.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I still read a lot of fic.  I kind of cycle through fandoms.  I read a lot of Marvel stuff, but have gone through other fic cycles.  I tend to find an author I like and then follow them into other fandoms.  That is, if I can find characters and stories in those fandoms that call to me.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I’m a really old school XF ficcer, so some of the folks who drew me into the genre were writers like Madeleine Partous, Parrotfish, Meredith, MustangSally, Rivka, etc.

There are so, so many other writers and authors I could mention, so I think I’ll just stick to some of my early favs.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

In XF, my favorite is Equilibrium.  It was the most plotting I’d done, and one where I wrote from several POVs and where I had to really let the characters tell the story. In order to avoid spoilers, I’ll just say that there was a moment where a character did something I thought was really stupid, and I actually quit writing the story for about a week during which I argued with the character.  Then I had to go back and just let the story unfold. It’s the only time I’ve ever actually shed tears while writing a scene, but at the end of the day (end of the story?) it was the correct decision for the story I was writing.

Of other fandoms in which I’ve written, I think Fieldstripping (Farscape) and Gravity is not Responsible for your Fall (Firefly/Serenity) are ones where I felt I got it most “right.”

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I actually have a long Skinner-related story that I’ve been threatening to write for about 10 years.  I have it 80% outlined and a very clear picture of the first and last scenes…. I just need to find the energy and focus to sit down and start writing.  I think I finally tracked down all my old fic and it’s posted up to AO3.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Which one?  Ha!  I’ve had a few.  Viv Wiley is a weird one – it just sort of came to me while driving one day.  Not entirely sure where it came from, just settled into my brain while at a stoplight in Northern Virginia (where I was living at the time).  I ultimately consolidated all my fic under that name.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Some friends and family know.  I’m judicious in who I tell.  I think people find it surprising, and of course, up until 5 years ago or so, I’d have to explain what fanfic is to most folks.  Now it’s so mainstream that I think if I were to tell someone new about it they wouldn’t be that surprised.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Everything is on AO3 under VivWiley

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

At the end of the day, what I care about is stories.  I think about the Doctor Who quote:  We’re all stories in the end, just make it a good one.  I am so grateful for all the nooks, crannies, and giant chasms of plot holes that the XF writers left for us to fill in.  Through that filling in, I discovered so many other wonderful stories, and wonderful writers and people.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 8, 2020)

[amyscascadingtabs]

2020 in writing

tagged by the wonderful @feeisamarshmallow and @b99peraltiago! thank you, this took me seriously three hours but it was fun. 

tagging whoever has three hours to spare!! but i’d love to see @amydancepants-peralta, @letsperaltiago, @johnny-and-dora, and @fezzle do this, although no pressure because this took me the entire evening. 

1. List of works published this year

oh god this is going to take forever...

i’ll walk through hell with you, chapter 5, 6 & 7

all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

a single kiss and i’m under your spell

paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

dust off your highest hopes

i can’t see the future, but i know that it’s there

look now, the sky is gold

look at where we are, look at where we started

bracing for the winds i always summon

just know that i’m already home

there’s magic everywhere you go

we’ve found a love to cross the ages

all my days, i’ll know your face

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

(three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life

if devotion is a river, then i’m floating away

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

evermore

i am not a stranger to the dark

in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

21 works!! 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why)

I am really really proud of finishing i’ll walk through hell with you, that’s still one of the highlights in my writing “career”. bracing for the winds i always summon and (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, because they were both longer works with a lot of introspection that focused a lot on jake and amy’s feelings about upcoming parenthood. especially the last one I still love dearly. i’m also really proud of the fics i wrote all from rosa’s perspective (paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans and when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)).

3. Work you are least proud of (and why)

none! I guess a few of them are shorter and written way quicker than some others, but I always take that into consideration when “evaluating” how proud I am of them so no. personally, I’m proud of everything in different ways. 

4. A favourite except of your writing

referring to the creator tag meme for this where I posted excerpts from the five works I’m most proud of!

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received

questions like these remind me that I need to start saving my favorite reviews somewhere! that’s a goal for 2021, haha. but every comment that have listed their favorite moments in the fic I reread like five times over and smile every time, and all the comments people left me on the last chapter of i’ll walk through hell with you were so wonderful. and the rosa fic. and the -

you know what, I just started reading through old comments and I can’t pick one, it feels too unfair to all the other incredible ones I ’ve gotten. so. all of them!!!! I love you guys!!

I will mention this one that someone sent me in the middle of summer, during a period when I wasn’t writing or publishing so it ended up meaning that much more for that reason as well. comment on look at where we are, look at where we started (in the brief period of time when we thought peraltiago baby would be named Leo)

“Idk why, but the way Jake was talking to Leo made me wonder if my parents ever talked to me like that right after I was born. I've been told the story of my birth every birthday since I was born, so I know it by heart, but despite the countless Peraltiago baby fics and other fandom baby fics I've read, this is the one that made me wonder what my parents were thinking when I was born. And then it made me wonder what I'm gonna think when I give birth to a kid, or if I adopt a kid.” like, I was just so floored that something I wrote made someone reflect so deeply on their own life. and I want to underline that I have so so many favourite reviews but yes, this one stuck with me!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

this summer was the hardest it’s ever been. first the (rightful) hesitance and reflection that followed the BLM protests and then some trauma and deep depression added onto that for me was… yeah. it took a really long time to find real joy in it again. 

7. A scene of characters you wrote that surprised you

Jake and Rosa’s friendship in i am not a stranger to the dark! I’ve written a bit of Rosa and Amy and feel quite comfortable with their friendship and dynamic but far less of Jake and Rosa! 

“At least this is still way better than... that.” “Literally everything is better than prison.” “True that.” Rosa looks up at the tv, realizing she’s missed at least ten minutes of the movie already. “I’m glad we got out.” “Sometimes it still feels like a part of me didn't,” Jake says, quietly. “You ever feel that way?” “Sometimes,” she admits. “We did, though. That's what's important.”

Rosa can hear someone talking in the background on the other end, and Jake mumbling something back in reply. “I have to go,” he tells her, and it makes her a little sad, because he's good company. “I can't miss dinner. Wouldn't want to piss off the entirety of my fiancées family before I’ve even married her, right?”

8. How did you grow as a writer this year?

I wrote more Rosa! that’s probably the single thing which helped me grow most, because she’s arguably a much harder character to write than Jake and Amy, since most of the time you really have no clue what she’s thinking. I have to think a lot harder about how Rosa thinks and feels and reacts to things and I feel like that makes me a better writer overall. 

9. How do you hope to grow next year?

I don’t have any big expectations tbh. I know next year is going to take so much of my energy “”professionally”” or well, study-wise, so I think it’s the wrong year to set ambitious creative writing goals for me. then there’s also the inevitable fact that I’ve written a whopping ninety-nine stories for this show now and I’m always asking myself for how long it will last. there was a point in april-may where I thought it was going to be the end and during the entire summer as well. so… we’ll see. I don’t have any WIP I’m aching to finish right now. 

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

@fezzle, @johnny-and-dora, @vernonfielding, @amydancepants-peralta, @feeisamarshmallow, @amazingsantiago and @letsperaltiago all deserve their own shoutouts here for various reasons!! (if you want to know more about why just message me!) 

11. Anything from real life show up in your writing this year?

always, in different ways in how I relate to the characters and different feelings and moments and experiences that would take way too long to explain. but if I could choose one fic it would be paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans. I worked through a lot of feelings about a breakup I went through in this one and they were ones I hadn’t really had the chance to let myself feel before writing this. It isn’t similar to how my breakup went, at least I didn’t mean for it to be and haven’t put any intentional similarities in there (although I guess there are a few if you look for them) but some of the things Rosa thinks, says and feels after being broken up with were quite personal. i am not a stranger to the dark and the way it focuses on healing after trauma was also partly personal although way much less obviously so because the experiences are quite different lol.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers?

make writer friends! talk to other writers! you’ll both learn so much and it makes writing and developing fics so much more fun!

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

I currently have zero WIP and zero real plans so genuinely who knows. all depends on what my life will look like and what s8 will bring us! 

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year

all the favourite five, but maybe when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet). I think it’s a great complement to the Rosa and Amy action we saw in season 7 and it has a lot of peraltiago from someone else’s viewpoint as well. 

15. Year word count

are you kidding meeeee okay here we go.

okay, so adding everything I’ve published this year together… 111 283 words.

😳 😳 😳 

DEAR GOD.

additional trivia: the shortest fic was 651 words (evermore), the longest if you exclude the three chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you (they are 24.6k together though) (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, and the average word count for a fic of mine this year was 5 299 or 4 838 words, depending on whether you count the chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you as one or three works. that makes sense because i feel like i’ve written a loot of fics around that length this year! 

[yamadadzawa]

Oooh thank you for taking prompts, that’s so cool of you! Can we get an Aizawa accidentally finding out his resident problem student Midoriya is an orphan and/or homeless and adopting him with Mic? All the specifics of the hows is up to your own creative liberty! Bonus if they find out about his past trauma and quirklessness but idk if that would fit given it’s a short one shot hehe

Thank you so much for this prompt!! Yours was the first I received, and I finally got some inspiration and time to write a piece. I’ll share it below, and will post a link to the fic on ao3 separately! 

---

A Fragile Promise

General Audiences | No Warnings | M/M

Aizawa Shouta & Midoriya Izuku, Yamada Hizashi & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi, Yagi Toshinori & Midoriya Izuku (mentioned)

Aizawa Shouta, Yamada Hizashi, Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori (briefly)

Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Homeless Midoriya Izuku, Not Dead Midoriya Inko, Disappeared Midoriya Inko, Protective Midoriya Inko, Parental Aizawa Shouta, Parental Yamada Hizashi, Aizawa Shouta & Yamada Hizashi Adopt Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, Dadmic, Sensei | All for One is Midoriya Izuku’s Parent, Dad for One

Shouta notices the shift shortly after the students return from their internships. He doesn’t see it right away. It seems the Problem Child’s internship was good at giving him a boost in confidence—something that has suddenly dropped in the last few days. Midoriya’s usual bubbling energy is subdued. He still greets his friends each morning with a bright smile and brighter words. His performance in class hasn’t wavered, and he’s still giving hero exercises that plus ultra effort. 

But something is missing. His smiles don’t stretch quite as wide, his voice is a fraction lower, his hand is slower as he takes notes. Instructions for practical exercises are followed by silence, where once Shouta could count on the thrum of mumbling words from Midoriya. It’s like something is just wrong enough for Shouta to notice, but when he tries to pinpoint what it is, he gets turned around and lost. 

Fortunately, Shouta is a stubborn man, and he listens when his gut tells him that he shouldn’t let this go. He keeps a mental list of things that don’t make sense with his Problem Child. Day in and day out, it grows. Deeper, darker bags under his eyes. A gaze that darts around corners, lingers on his belongings, narrows when others get too close to them. A growing lag in his energy, shaky hands. Lips bitten raw, cuticles torn red. His uniform, once mostly meticulous, now consistently wrinkled, and occasionally stained. There are a few possible answers that linger in Shouta’s mind, poking and prodding at him every time he sees Midoriya. But nothing concrete. And then Yagi comes to him near the end of the day that week, and that nagging feeling that something is wrong grows. 

“I think something may be wrong with Young Midoriya,” Yagi confides in him. “But when I tried to ask, he quite cleverly avoided the question, and now I fear he’s avoiding me.” 

“You think I’ll have better luck?” Shouta raises a brow at the man. It’s no secret to anyone that Midoriya is Yagi’s favorite, and vice versa. 

“Perhaps,” Yagi nods, sounding somewhat reluctant to admit it. If the topic of their conversation wasn’t the wellbeing of one of his students, Shouta would be tempted to smirk. “His respect for you is...different. Than it is for me.” 

Shouta snorts. “His fear, you mean,” Shouta huffs, rolling his eyes when Yagi blanches and coughs quietly. “I know my reputation among the student body, Yagi.” 

“I assure you, that is not what I meant,” Yagi insists. “I only meant...well. Young Midoriya’s respect for me is closer to hero worship, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Shouta inclines his head. 

“His respect for you is for his teacher,” Yagi continues. “My hope is, that will be the difference.” 

Shouta passes a hand through his hair and considers that. “Alright, you’ve got a point,” he admits. “And I’ve noticed something has been off for about a week or so now. It started a few days after the kids got back from their internships. It could be what happened in Hosu with Stain-” Shouta scoffs when Yagi tries to hold back a shocked cough. “I’m no fool, Yagi. I can piece together what actually happened. But I don’t think that’s it. Or at least, that’s not just it.” 

“Keep me posted, please,” Yagi frowns, and Shouta will never admit out loud that he hates seeing that expression on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shouta waves a hand, dismissing himself from the conversation and tucking his face into his capture weapon as he walks away. He needs to find Midoriya. 

Of course, when he reaches the classroom, his Problem Child is nowhere to be seen. A few of the students linger around, including Iida and Uraraka, and they look as confused as him when their eyes catch on Midoriya’s empty seat. So he snuck out without them realizing it, Shouta thinks, mildly impressed. He sees no reason to stick around if Midoriya isn’t here, so he turns on his heel and walks to the teacher’s lounge. 

Hizashi is waiting for him when he gets there, sprawled across one of the couches, already changed out of his Present Mic apparel and dressed down, hair in a loose bun. “Midoriya gone already?” He asks. 

Shouta sighs and nods. “Looks like he slipped out without his friends noticing,” Shouta answers, dropping down onto the couch across from him with his head draped over the arm. “Part of me wants to make a home visit, but at the same time, that could make things worse if I’m not careful.” 

Hizashi is silent for an uncharacteristically long time, so Shouta lifts his head to look at his husband. Hizashi’s eyes are narrowed, fingertips pressed together, teeth pressed down on his bottom lip. Shouta sits up and leans forward. He knows that look. “‘Zashi? What are you thinking?” 

“Come with me,” Hizashi says, in lieu of an answer. Shouta nods, though, and does as Hizashi asks. If showing him is easier, if Hizashi can’t quite find the words, that’s fine. Shouta will trust him. 

-----

Shouta begins to piece together what Hizashi was thinking as he follows him out of the car, and into the unsuspecting building across the street. It’s packed full, which isn’t a surprise given the population of the city. Shouta isn’t as familiar with this food bank as Hizashi is, so he lets Hizashi keep the lead once they’re inside. It takes them a few passes around the space before Shouta’s eyes catch a hint of green that looks familiar. Midoriya is alone, tucked in at a table in the corner, with a tray of food. 

“You were right,” Shouta murmurs to Hizashi, nudging him and directing his attention towards their student. 

Hizashi sighs sadly. “I was hoping I wasn’t.”

Shouta hums and reaches down to squeeze Hizashi’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he walks over to Midoriya’s table. He’s careful to approach from the side, where Problem Child will be less likely to see them until they’re close. He’s impressed when those green eyes snap their way sooner than he expected, and in any other situation, that wide eyed look on his face might be funny. 

Shouta doesn’t say anything as he slides into the seat across from his student, but Hizashi does murmur a gentle “Hey there, little listener.” 

“Yamada-sensei?” Midoriya asks, curiosity overriding his panic, eyes flitting over his teacher, then to their joined hands. 

“Yeah,” Hizashi smiles. “This is my incognito look. Works surprisingly well.” 

Midoriya gives them a wobbly smile, then looks down at his food, pushing it around on his tray instead of eating. “How, um,” he stops and swallows. “How much trouble am I in?” 

“None,” Shouta says simply, as if the question doesn’t surround his heart with ice. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“O-Oh,” Midoriya’s brows do something funny there, clearly not expecting that. “But, um. But I’m…” 

“You’re what?” Hizashi asks kindly, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm, squeezing Shouta’s hand. When Midoriya doesn’t really answer, Hizashi hums. “Maybe this will be easier. Midoriya, do you have somewhere to stay?” 

Problem Child shrugs, eyes still locked on his food. Shouta sees the way his hand shakes, knuckles white as he squeezes his chopsticks. 

“Hmm,” Hizashi hums. “Maybe not the right way to ask. Midoriya, do you have a house or apartment to go home to?” 

This time, Midoriya doesn’t answer, but the color on his cheeks and the tears that adorn them are enough. 

“Oh, kid,” Hizashi voices their heartbreak, and releases Shouta’s hand to stand and slide into the seat next to Midoriya instead. His movements are carefully telegraphed, as he wraps an arm around their student and pulls him in close. 

Shouta frowns and looks around the room, trying to spot anyone who looks like Midoriya. “Kid, where’s your mom?” When he turns back around to face Midoriya and Hizashi, the kid has gone pale and rigid in Hizashi’s embrace. Shouta meets Hizashi’s eyes, a silent conversation between them, and Hizashi takes back over. 

Hizashi shifts to try and catch Midoriya’s eye, though the boy is doing a good job of avoiding that. “Midoriya, did your mother...kick you out?” 

A firm head shake, those green eyes flashing indignantly. And that’s certainly something. “Kid, why isn’t she with you?” Shouta presses. More head shaking, slower this time, eyes guarded. 

Shouta has two options here—he can continue to push, and risk the kid closing off completely, or he can let it go, and salvage what he can of this. He opts for the latter, albeit reluctantly. “Alright,” he sighs. “I won’t ask you about your mom anymore. If,” Shouta pauses, waiting for Midoriya to lift his head and meet Shouta’s eyes. “If you’ll agree to come stay with Hizashi and I. At least for now.” 

Shouta is used to his Problem Child being extremely easy to read. He doesn’t know what to do with this Midoriya, who looks back at him with a wall behind his eyes that Shouta can’t see over. The only reason Shouta knows his anxious student is still behind that wall is because Midoriya’s nervous habit of twisting and pulling at his fingers prevails. 

“You won’t be a burden,” Hizashi murmurs. “We’ve got a guest room, and plenty of food to feed three people.” 

Shouta can tell they’re close. “And cats,” he adds on, mouth twitching when Midoriya’s fingers still and some light peeks through in his eyes. “Three of them.” 

Midoriya ducks his head down, biting at his lip and pressing his hands against the table. Shouta knows they have to be patient here, and wait him out. Thankfully, it pays off. 

“Okay,” Midoriya whispers.  

-----

Midoriya is predictably skittish when they get him home. He keeps his bag hugged tight to his chest, and looks like he isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to put on the slippers Shouta nudges his way. The cats, of course, are good at breaking that tension. 

“This one,” Shouta stoops down to lift up the biggest, a deep gray Maine Coon. “Is Umbra.” 

“Just a warning,” Hizashi grins. “He doesn’t really seem to understand that he’s big and heavy. He’ll lay on your back or your chest and crush you.” Hizashi’s grin widens when he earns a small giggle from Midoriya. 

Umbra hangs limp in Shouta’s grasp, though he watches Midoriya, and is quick to thump himself against the boy’s legs after Shouta sets him down. Unsurprisingly, the smallest of the other two cats is quick to try and steal Midoriya’s attention. Midoriya gasps when he sees her, crouching down to get a closer look. 

“Ah, yeah,” Shouta says. “That’s Iris.” 

“So small,” Midoriya whispers, trailing gentle fingers over her back. 

“She’s a Singapura,” Hizashi crouches down to pet her too. “Or at least, that’s what we’ve been told. She was a stray, so we took her in. This is apparently as big as she gets.” 

Midoriya looks between Umbra and Iris, and he doesn’t even need to say anything. Shouta snorts. “Yeah, it’s sure something.” Midoriya looks past Shouta and spies the last cat, a grouchy, gangly, and orange bastard. “That’s Bean. He’s not exactly the friendliest, so it might be best if you…” Shouta trails off, staring as Bean prowls over to Midoriya, and bonks his head against the boy’s cheek. 

“Huh,” Hizashi says, grinning widely. 

“Huh,” Shouta echoes. 

Midoriya beams at Bean, and holds his hand out, letting Bean rub against his knuckles until he’s satisfied and walks away. Midoriya turns that smile towards Shouta and Hizashi, and Shouta knows they’re done for. 

-----

Having been in Midoriya’s position once, Shouta knows to camp out on the couch. He’s not at all surprised when, around three in the morning, his Problem Child creeps through the living room with his bag on his back. 

“Midoriya,” Shouta calls gently. 

Midoriya yelps and jerks back, frantic eyes searching for Shouta in the dark, guilt flooding them when they lock eyes. Shouta sighs softly and pats the couch next to him. Midoriya’s shoulders droop, and he shuffles over, dropping down onto the spot. 

“Was it something we did?” Shouta asks, being sure to keep his voice kind. 

Midoriya sniffles quietly and shakes his head. Shouta hums and leans back. He has a thought, and wonders...

“Is it...your mom?” 

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, and then no sound at all as Midoriya holds it and goes perfectly still. 

“Izuku,” Shouta murmurs. “Please.” He doesn’t say anything else, and for once, it’s a feat. He doesn’t usually have to bite his tongue to stop the flow of words from passing his lips. But right now...he needs to wait. 

Minutes pass with no sound between them except quiet breathing, and the occasional sniffle and hum from Midoriya. Until, finally, nearly ten minutes later, Shouta’s patience pays off. Midoriya pulls his bag into his lap, and unzips a compartment on the front. There’s a faint rustle, and then a hint of white in the darkness. 

“Here,” Midoriya whispers, holding out a piece of paper. 

Shouta takes it between careful fingers. He can just make out the writing from the glow of the window. 

I have to draw him away. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t look for me. I will come back. 

“Him?” Shouta barely breathes the question, unsure whether he’s scared that the boy or the paper will fall apart. 

“I don’t know,” Midoriya replies, matching his tone. “I don’t know.” 

Shouta sighs shakily, curling a hand across his mouth, fingers clenching against his jaw. 

“S-Sensei,” Midoriya whispers. “Promise me, please. Promise me you won’t look for her. She said, said not to. She’ll come back. But I, we can’t, can’t look for her.” 

Shouta closes his eyes and exhales shakily. “Alright, kid. Alright.” 

It’s the worst kind of promise Shouta can give a child—one he’ll have to break.

[vios-rockland-corner]

How I’m going to tackle “Rumors of Rockland”

Hello there!  Today there was a RIDICULOUSLY large information dump on Outlaw’s Patreon about upcoming game layouts.  There’s far too much there to comment on right now, but there’s one thing in particular I wanted to focus on today.  This post actually is less of me talking about the possibilities of the game, and more so how “I” personally am going to approach these particular “games.”

Overview of what’s below:

- What is “Rumors of Rockland” (RoR)

- My OC Sasha Holmes

- What kind of posts you’ll see from me as these RoR installments come through

What is “Rumors of Rockland?”

Of the long list of future games to come from the creators in the Rockland Universe, one of the very first things mentioned that’s new is the “Rumors of Rockland.”  THIS might actually be the first bit of solid content besides the demos that you may see pop up.

“Rumors of Rockland” is a little interesting.  I’m not 100% sure I’d call it a “game” first of all.  I do fully believe it will be presented to us in the same visual format we get with Ren’Py.  The visual novel style basically.  But there’s two big keynotes on what makes this piece of media different from the creators’ other games.

1) The MC in these “games” is going to be more of an observer.  It’s specifically going to be different from the rest of the games where the MC is directly involved in the story.  Here, it sounds more like the MC happens to be in the same setting as another set of characters, but otherwise does not affect what’s going on.  With that being said, I don’t even know if we’ll be playing through with any choices to select.  The creators also said that it would ideally be the same MC in all the scenarios, further suggesting that the MC isn’t being placed in a perilous situation here.  They are an untouched bystander.

2) There will be several installments of this series.  Oh yes.  When I said “scenarios” before, I didn’t necessarily mean that there’s going to be a lot of things happening in this one...I’m going to refer to is as a “visual novel” until further notice.  What I mean is this is a series that will be continuously updated throughout the development of other Rockland games.  New installments can be called new chapters to the visual novel.  “Rumors of Rockland” appears to be a way to supplement extra information to the audience about certain characters and what is going on in Rockland.  That solidifies even more for me why I would prefer to call this a visual novel over a game.  Yes I know lots of games will sometimes continue to get DLC content to add further progression.  Call it a hunch though, I think the creators would want to save their time developing multiple games rather than developing one and just continually adding updates for it.  They have a lot of characters to go through, so this could be an effective way to show some elements that may not be able to make it into a main game.

Apparently, the release order of games has switched around once again and Rumors of Rockland is going to be released first, followed by “Welcome to Rockland” (this is a path focusing on just one character), THEN Misfits: First Blood.  I know, sometimes this gets a little confusing to keep track of.  Just trust me, a lot of this has to do with character shifts for the groups.

Right now the first Rumors of Rockland we’re supposed to get is just listed as “Introduction/Prologue.”  It might not be long, but we’ll see soon what we’re working with here.  There also was a BIG list of potential chapters touching on all sorts of different elements of Rockland.  It’s kind of wild.  Chapters may not be long themselves, considering how many they have planned.  But the good news is I think if they’re doing this the way I suspect...it won’t be difficult to pump out a lot of chapters at a faster pace than any of the other games.  I think all they need is a stock set of backgrounds and sprites...then it’s just recoding and new script each time.  That’s not really so bad if they don’t have the MC have to make a lot or any choices at all.  No complaints from me in that case.

My OC

Okay, little detour here, but this WILL become relevant to this blog and tie back into RoR.  I don’t make many OC’s, but I made one from scratch here.  Her name is Sasha Holmes and I created her specifically to be an NPC in the Rockland Universe.  

See I’m not really the creative type, but I wanted to try practicing character creation and development.  I’m NOT the type of person though who usually a) visualizes/creates my own MC for a game (I prefer games even with pre-made protagonist avatars) or b) self-inserts.  I have NOTHING against anyone who does either of these obviously.  My brain just...lacks the creativity to do the former, and since games are a form of escapism, I don’t self-insert because that’s not part of the fantasy and escapism aspect for me.

What’s more, lots of these games are going to be horror survival.  I feel even LESS inclined to craft an OC I may fall in love with only to throw them into the pits of hell.  Likely any character I make would die, and I don’t have the mental energy to create another OC for every.single.game, haha.

To get around this, I said: “Well what if I just make a character that solely exists in this universe, but never interferes with the story.  Surely there are just normal citizens that live in Rockland?”  What I was planning on doing was occasionally utilizing Sasha for extra posts when I couldn’t think of anything to write.  Something like journal entries she’d make about her day and gossip that she’s heard around town.  Perhaps gossip about people going missing even or shady dealings.  How would Sasha react?  Sometimes a normal person will wave something off as too outlandish to be true.  If it doesn’t directly impact you, it’s easier to ponder one second but push it to the side the next.  Or maybe what you hear could make you start to feel paranoid.  Especially if things persist.

Originally, I was going to split things so that some of the gossip or rumors Sasha heard were actually based on real things that “I” know happen in the games and universe, and some things that are false (because you know how rumors get pretty outlandish if someone mishears something or someone’s just looking for attention).  I was prepared to just kind of craft my own type of content like this in due time.  In addition to all the analysis posts, don’t worry.  The posts regarding my OC would have just been filler when I couldn’t think of anything else.

Now that Rumors of Rockland is a thing though…do you know what this is for me?  It’s a template. I am literally being gifted the EXACT kind of scenario I would have previously had to craft myself.  This visual novel doesn’t need an interactive MC, just one that observes the events happening.  If they’re the same MC in every chapter too, that means they should be safe!  I am beyond ecstatic and not going to look a gift horse in the mouth!

My Rumors of Rockland Posts

So here’s what going to happen in the future.  I’m going to try to do at LEAST one post for every Rumors of Rockland chapter that comes out.  Even if the chapters are short, they’ll still be enough for characters to comment on. The goal here is for me to try something new and have a little fun while also putting out content.  At the moment, I don’t know which of the two types of posts I will end up preferring to do:

1)     Journal Entry- The RoR event has already taken place, and Sasha’s just writing in first person her exact thoughts on the day/information. This would be beneficial if I don’t feel up to describing a whole lot of actions for Sasha or what’s happening around her and just want full dialogue.

2)     Present time fic?- Writing the story as the events of the chapter take place.  This means placing Sasha directly there and describing all that’s happening with her and getting her IMMEDIATE reactions to certain information.  I’m not going to lie, I need to see an RoR chapter first to kind of figure out how I’d write a present time piece.  I certainly don’t want to copy paste all the dialogue she hears. Could do a –cut to RoR chapter- note literally in there, and do more of Sasha’s before and after behaviors and emotions.  This one would be more dynamic definitely, but I would have the advantage where I could practice having Sasha interact with other characters I bring in such as coworkers or friends.  It could be interesting depicting Sasha conversing with another person about what she sees/hears rather than just focusing on her inner thoughts.  I also have another side character I might want to utilize to explain why Sasha is even repeatedly going back to where these events take place.

I will admit, I’m not really a creative writer.  So I’m going to apologize ahead of time if what I put out isn’t all that stellar. This is going to be practice for sure. Like I said, I may start to favor one post type over the other.  I don’t know if I’ll keep them short and sweet, or make it long.  Whatever I feel up to I suppose.

I will also mention that I may still end up doing an ADDITIONAL analysis/thoughts post of sorts along with my OC post for an RoR chapter.  This is only if there is information revealed that “I” personally want to comment on that I know Sasha can’t.  Sasha might not be able to either because she, as an in-universe character, is not aware of the bigger picture, or because her personality doesn’t allow her to think about something in a different way.  Sometimes characters are very set in their beliefs and views, which can affect how they perceive information.  So if there’s people viewing this blog who are more keen on the analysis posts and don’t really like OC content, don’t worry.  Not only will all the big games solely get more analytical posts, but the RoR chapters may still get some as well.  It just depends on what kind of information I get fed.

I need to stress again that Sasha is NOT a self-insert.  She’s a completely human OC, but she is not me.  Now, of course it’s not uncommon for a creator to put just a little bit of themselves into any OC they make.  Sasha’s no exception.  What’s more, I just realized she’s one of the few purely human OC’s I’ve crafted. I might accidentally end up having her share similar beliefs and mannerisms to myself simply because…that’s what I know best.  Sometimes you write better if you write what you know.  That being said, I do also try to go out of my way to give my OC’s both minor and major differences to myself, whether it’s small likes and dislikes, physical appearance changes or certain beliefs. The only reason I’m explaining this is because in the event I have both an OC post AND an analysis post that seem to contrast greatly, it’s because my OC and “I” are reacting differently to something.  Don’t assume necessarily that the way Sasha views something is exactly the same way I view it.  If you do, you might get confused, haha.  I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of times where it can’t be helped that Sasha and I think very similarly.  But for this, I want to try my best to give Sasha a consistent personality and system of beliefs. Big or small.

I don’t know if I will be putting out a post immediately once the first RoR chapter drops. I’m feeling pretty good about the image I have of Sasha in my head, but there’s still some BIG bio points I need to settle on before I can get started.  I know I shouldn’t try to nail down every little piece about her right away so that I can have some flexibility later, but a couple of things I think I need to settle on include:

·        Age and occupation- There’s a time skip I know we’re going to get for the Rockland universe, so it’s important for me to decide where I want to start and where she will potentially be in the future.  I know some of the other characters’ ages now, so that helps a little in deciding how much younger or older she is compared to some characters. It’s also a big deal whether or not she’s a college student pre-time skip, or already started a career.

·        Long term resident of Rockland vs. New in Town- As cliché as it sounds, I may be leaning towards “new in town” simply because it really IS an easy way to explain why she’s never noticed anything strange before in Rockland. While it’s true that children are often ignorant to a lot of the world happening around them, I don’t know enough about the Rockland universe to say WHICH things should be “common knowledge” to a local.

Those are the big ones.  After a lot of thinking, I’m sticking to my original plan that Sasha will just be “good.” Don’t expect her to be TOO sympathetic to a person who she hears committed murder for example, haha.  I just think not only will it be easier for me to write someone who is a “normal civilian” with a good conscience, but also because I think it might be fun later down the line to tackle a little fear that grows and pondering on why people do bad things to begin with.  She’s be a good girl, right now most likely lawful good.  Maybe if I ever wanted to craft a side character that’s a little more chaotic than her to bounce off dialogue with to get other perspectives in there, I could do that.  That’d be another challenge for me altogether though.  

I’m sure not every single chapter though in RoR is going to be about hearing characters describe how they’ve murdered someone recently though.  Especially not continuously in a public place.  Not everything is going to be crystal clear I’m sure. Sasha might brush off some things that happen, and other stuff seems so incoherent without the context that she won’t know WHAT to make of it.

I’m also still debating whether to not only wait for at least the first RoR piece to come out, but if I want to wait for “Welcome to Rockland” to come out as well before finalizing Sasha.

Last thing before I end this!  I wanted to get this post out as a just heads-up on what you’ll see from me in the future.  This should work fine considering the RoR chapters sound like information dumps in visual novel format for the most part.  I want to be make it clear though that I am NOT copyrighting this way of commenting on the RoR chapters.  What I love about these installments, is that you could literally have any viewer’s own OC operating in their own space and just reacting to what happens in plain sight. Anyone should feel free to imagine themselves as the MC here and it’s not going to interfere with anyone else’s story.  I would certainly love to see if anyone else tries to do something similar to what I want to do with the RoR updates.  There’s so many different types of MC’s people can make and I’m positive they won’t all react to things the same exact way as each other.

[someobscurereference]

im very into the 3H hype now as well, but i have missed your FE14 talk more than i can say lmfao! any plot ideas/headcanons/other concepts that have been nagging you lately and that you want to share? (i know i just specified fe14, but 3H is also fine !) if not though thats okay, and i hope you have a nice day! :D

Aw, I missed it too, anon! That was the downside of closing my ask box. I was assured I wouldn’t see any spoilers before I wanted to, but I was sorry to put a hard pause on any cool questions anyone had to ask. I don’t normally have any HCs that I get on my own (since they’re usually tied into the plot of any given fic I’d wanna write and usually not a “this is how I Always with a capital A think about X”), but let’s see about upcoming plots! I’ve left you guys hanging for a little while now.

Mafia AU

Firstly, I’m probably going to be actively working on Mafia AU with @kimium again in the next few days. Holy cow, seriously, she has the patience of a saint with this AU. I could not ask for a more understanding person to be writing that with, because I have not been looking at the Mafia AU or really much writing at all in Forever. Granted, I was very busy with real life stuff and final projects/work as my study abroad was coming to a close, but I probably would have been understandably annoyed if I had to be partnered with myself for that too because I have been So Bad. Like, Very Bad about writing! So thank you, @kimium, for your kindness. You deserve a reward. Seriously.

(Did anyone notice that I wrote less fic when I was in Japan? I sure did! I felt bad about it, but while I loved being there and all my classes and friends, I really had no energy or time for anything that didn’t immediately pertain to university life in some way. My hobbies all got put on a big hold while I was over there. But I’m back now! And am working on making more time for myself for creative outlets!)

Spooky FE14 Fic

Also, I have another FE14 Spooky Horror Fic that’s on the way! With all the FE ships you know I love to write! Probably… somewhere between ½ to ¾ths done? Including blocking for future scenes, I’m at about 37K word count right now. That will go up as I take the blocking and turn it into actual dialogue and narration and stuff, lol. It’ll still be a while before I’m done though. I’ve had this thing sitting in my drafts for literal months and haven’t been able to work on it in a while. But I want to very badly!

I’m trying hard to make this spooky fic different from my previous fics. I don’t want to spoil too much, but I am actively trying to make sure I have a few different dynamics than who I paired up in Dark Things Grew (which you should check out if you like spooky stuff!) and also more getting together than established relationship. Also more, like, having real flaws in relationships and as people? But we’ll see how that works out, haha. It’s my first time writing a lot of things, so it’s a little new to me too. And spooky in the “oh no, what if people don’t it when characters are, like, realistically an asshole?” But I want to to be good! And I think you’ll like it! Or at least some will, haha.

FE3H

I sat down trying to write some FE14 stuff earlier, but I think the 3H bug really bit me because when I tried to write, something just wasn’t clicking right. And I just kept thinking about some of my 3H faves?? So I guess I’m halfway through a short-ish Caspar/Linhardt fic now, lol. (I also have a half-written Raphael/Ignatz in my drafts too, but I don’t know if I like it or not, so we’ll see if I ever come back to it. I’m thinking of that one as a warm-up.)

But it’s been literally a minimum of 2 years since I’ve written something that wasn’t for FE14, so getting to know new characters again is interesting. Normally I like to scan wikis and consume literally everything about a character before I write them so I write them as accurately as possible, but 3H is so new that a lot of that info is really scarce rn! So I’m nervous! But trying!

Also, because you asked about various things and I feel bad just naming upcoming, unfinished fics:

A Few Fic Ideas I Think About Often And Actually Have In A File On My Laptop Titled “FE Fics to Write” (much more on the real list)

Chef/Baker AU Owain! (I also talk to @kimium about this often. But also I know nothing about baking or cooking at all so like??? We’ll see if I ever get this one done, haha.)

AU where Owain (and maybe the others, but this is more Owain focus) is an Android but nobody knows it except him. (Slowburn Leo/Owain/Niles? And also maybe Nina and Forrest are there?? This one is also a little vague but it Haunts me)

I wanna write a fic like this one where Inigo made a deal and the price of Severa and Owain living was their memories except this time around it’s more of the aftermath and a little more magic is involved. Also, Owain/Inigo established relationship but Owain forgot. Also, Owain hates Inigo.

On that same line, I want to write a fic that takes place during the “Owain and Inigo Do Not Get Along” time period of their lives. I always write them as established friendship. But they legit were Not Friends in Awakening for a good part of their friendship. They would die for each other but also shove each other’s faces in the dirt if they could. I want to write that. Also maybe with hate romance.

Established Leo/Nlies Modern AU where Owain is their neighbor/someone they know who they sleep with on the regular. Owain thinks it’s all casual. Is it??? *Eye emoji*Insecure Owain? (maybe tied in with the above? maybe something else? mentioned in another fic I’m writing and I want to explore it more. He so easily has breakdowns in canon when Felicia and Severa call him weird.)

Can u tell I love Owain

Anyway, those are some of my top fic ideas and fic that I’m actively working on atm! I hope they seem appealing to you or anyone else reading this, lol. I’m trying to get back into the swing of things as I go! Definitely always feel free to hit me up with more FE questions anytime though! (Awakening, Fates, 3 Houses–it’s all on the table again!)

Thanks for asking!

[ailelie]

Like a Bad Penny (not!fic, crack treated seriously; Damian is Stephanie’s Dad)

This is over 2.5k of not!fic going more or less scene-by-scene of how I’d write the Stephanie-is-Damian’s-Daughter fic I first mentioned here. This is crack treated seriously. This is not written as fic. This is written as an in-depth, first draft description of a fic, scene-by-scene, with a few rare moments of dialogue. It involve an OC who is the daughter of an old and off retconned out rogue, the Penny Plunderer or Joe Coyne. Of course Coyne named his daughter Penny.

This is Steph/Tim. And would inevitably be followed by a half-dozen ficlets focusing on the weird father-daughter relationship between Steph and Damian.

---

“I’m just saying—knowing Penelope was Joe Coyne’s daughter would have helped us solve this a lot sooner.”

Tim and Bruce are in the Batcave after a case. The giant penny is prominent in the background. The case involved an Arkham breakout of Joe Coyne and Zachary Gate. Gate is still focused on eliminating the founding families of Gotham. The villains always seem one step ahead until the Bats realize that a new engineer at Wayne Enterprises, Penelope Finger, has been feeding the villains information and providing them with weapons. When caught, Penelope talks about how her father had turned his greatest failure into the cornerstone of his success. He taught her to always learn something from failure. She points out a pair of pennies on the table and chides the heroes that they should pay more attention to the things they think are useless. She moves one of the pennies, completing a circuit embedded in the table, and causing an explosion. She escapes in the confusion.

Penelope’s thing is about how people overlook the terrible potential of the mundane and undervalued. Her inventing prowess focuses on using the seemingly useless and unexpected with great creativity.  While Batman and co. focused on Gate, Penelope and her father quietly stole the materials she needed to finish making a time machine.

Gate and the others are recaptured, but Penelope and her father remain at liberty. Penelope finishes her time machine. Joe Coyne, though he helped with the thefts, wants to use the time machine to change the past. His time in Arkham really did rehabilitate him. Penelope, however, for reasons unknown, was aware each time the timeline changed. She remembers the timelines where her father almost ceased to even exist and blames the Justice League, but mostly Batman since he captured her father in the very first place and then had the gall to forget him.

It eventually gets revealed that the Batman Beyond universe exists through her machinations. She either helped the Joker get his three uninterrupted weeks with Tim or provided the microchip, for example.

But all of that is late reveal stuff. At this stage in the game, the Bats think she helped Gate to buy herself time to get her dad somewhere safe and out of the way.

Bruce goes to bed and advises Tim to go rest as well. Tim, instead, sits at the Batcomputer and starts writing a program to identify familial relationships among the DNA samples saved in the computer’s memory, as well as a secondary program to ensure this doesn’t lock the computer up like tea aboard the Heart of Gold in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

A few days later, Tim is using the Batcomputer for one his cases while Bruce runs tests on a new drug growing in popularity in Gotham. By this point Tim has grown slightly annoyed with his own program as it so far has identified relationships such as Bruce and Damian, Ra’s and Damian, etc. When yet another Damian alert pops up, he almost closes it without read it. Except Bruce tells him to wait.

Then Tim pays attention and realizes what it says: a paternal match between Damian Wayne and Stephanie Brown.

“Run that again,” Bruce orders.

Tim minimizes his case files and pulls up Damian and Stephanie’s DNA profiles. Time drags as they wait, but the answer is unchanged. A paternal match.

“Could the DNA files be corrupted?” Tim asks.

“I’ll call them in.”

This leads to Stephanie and Damian in the Cave. Tim and Bruce each conduct their own paternity tests, just to be absolutely certain. Hours pass. Damian and Stephanie’s patience dwindles.

“Father, I demand you explain what is happening right now.”

“Seriously, you’re both acting super weird.”

“Maybe we should just show them,” Tim says, looking at Bruce.

“Show us what, Tim?”

“Show them. I’ll be right back.”

Tim sighs, glaring at Bruce’s back. “This.”

Stephanie and Damian are still ranting in disbelief when Bruce returns with a strange device that he explains he took from the Flash. He asks Stephanie to step aside and he runs the device around her. The readings are faint, but enough to confirm his suspicions

“Stephanie is from the future.”

No one takes this particularly well. Tim chases after Steph when she bolts.

Tim and Steph have a cute conversation about this changing nothing, which ends with Stephanie starting to find the humor in the situation.

“Damian is my dad. Wait, Tim, you realize what this means? You’re dating Damian’s daughter.” She laughs, then her eyes widen. “Your brother Damian’s daughter. I’m dating my uncle! This horror show’s got levels.”

Tim buries his face in his palm. “Please stop.”

On a lighter note, she also gives him an envelope of purple glitter and tells him “happy 18th.” He tries to toss the glitter out, she refuses to let him and tells him it is punishment. “On my birthday? For what?”

“I’ll think of something.”

Meanwhile, Bruce uses the very faint readings from the device to pinpoint from when in the future Stephanie came. Damian is training and occasionally ranting in the background. He alternates between anger and nascent protectiveness.

“Brown can’t be a Wayne. She’s not worthy of our name. There must have been a mistake. She can barely hold her own. Could you imagine what Mother would think of her?” He stops, in sudden alarm. “The League cannot find out about her. They’d destroy her.”

The readings on Stephanie were too faint to pinpoint an exact year. With help from the Justice League, Bruce gets a device to allow time travel. He decides to travel to the last possible year in the range he determined, deciding that it is far better to return after her disappearance than it is before her existence.

Tim, Stephanie, and Damian join him.

Dick, Jason, Duke, and Cass stay to hold down the fort in Gotham.

Here the narrative splits. One of the four in the present time discovers the case Tim pushed aside when the paternity alert popped up. The case is cold and involves a string of strange thefts that took place while they were trying to re-capture Zachary Gate. Investigating these thefts eventually leads the present-time crew to realize that Penelope has built a time travel device of her own and has been using it.

The future time crew finds out that the Batfamily is no more. Batman was last seen five years ago. Terry McGinnis is, at this point, three years old.

“Is this the darkest timeline?” Steph asks quietly reading Tim’s wiki page over his shoulder. Older Tim is in Communications. Damian, Jason, and Cass are all missing. Dick is in Bludhaven, though Nightwing appearances are increasingly rare. Bruce is alone. Leslie Thompkins is still operating her clinic and they decide to start by talking with her.

Leslie fills them in, not just on Stephanie, but Tim’s time as J.J. (which, they realize with horror, is not too far into their future) and Damian’s recent arguments with Bruce. After Damian’s daughter, Isra Wayne, disappeared from the hospital, Damian’s marriage fell apart and he blamed Bruce for not being able to find Isra. Last Leslie heard, Damian was off looking for someone who could help. She also tells them about Bruce’s heart attack and retirement.

Instead of going to old!Bruce next, they track down Dick. Dick, at least, hasn’t completely given up Nightwing yet and may have more connections that can help them. By this point, Damian has decided to call Stephanie “Isra” and nothing else. This is what gets overheard by older!Damian who is also in Bludhaven to visit with Dick.

Older!Damian is investigating a break in at Cadmus (he’s been promised access to various tools to help him find his daughter if he helps them find the thief; Damian hasn’t completely joined up with his grandfather yet, but he is wavering) and wants to consult with Dick. When he hears younger!Damian use the name “Isra” he shadows the group. He is nearly caught by Bruce, but manages to escape.

Once older!Damian confirms that Stephanie is Isra, he calls in a favor from his mother. Talia arranges a diversion and older!Damian abducts Stephanie.

Dick is furious. He points out the ways better infrastructure could have made the attack impossible or, at least, more difficult. “When do we stop cleaning up messes and start preventing them from happening in the first place?” he demands.

They regroup at Dick’s. Dick, Damian, and Bruce bounce ideas off each other and Dick tries to contact older!Damian to no avail. Tim, needing to stay busy, looks through Dick’s open cases. One of them—a break-in at a Cadmus Lab in Bludhaven—piques his interest because it is very similar a string of thefts he’d been investigating in Gotham. He starts searching for similar cases. Damian is the first to realize the shift in Tim’s energy and calls him out on it.

Tim startles and then explains—he thinks whoever broke into the Cadmus Lab is the same person who kidnapped Stephanie (“Isra,” Dick and Damian correct) as a baby.

They re-break into the lab to do their own investigation. During the investigation Bruce notices a dropped penny. Dick doesn’t understand the significance at all. But Tim does. It was the sort of thing one would overlook. Less a clue than a taunt. They don’t say anything to the others yet.

Scene-jump over older!Damian and Stephanie. Damian is in awe of his daughter. He can’t believe how old she is, nor how much she resembles her mother. He tells her about her mom, how they met, how they played chess together, the wedding, Isra’s birth, and the terror of losing her. They talk and he asks her to remain, but she can’t.

She tells him about her life in his past, about her childhood, career as Spoiler, friendships, and relationship with Tim. She asks him to let her go.

He agrees on one condition—he goes with her.

When the others return to Dick’s from the Lab, older!Damian and Stephanie are waiting for them. Quick reunion. Bruce and younger!Damian are surprised by older!Damian. Tim shares the Lab information with Stephanie and she starts helping him crack through it. She asks about the envelope of glitter. She takes a pinch and throws it on older!Damian as punishment for abducting her.

Ultimately Stephanie is the one who finds Penelope’s true target—a microchip that can overwrite a person, creating a clone. Stephanie wonders if the chip was used for Joker Junior. Tim and older!Dick & Damian dismiss that. That was just brainwashing. Bruce, however, gets it—crimes hidden within crimes. Tim looks sick and the two future people questioning, so Bruce explains about Penelope.

Older!Dick and Damian both blanche. Older!Damian shows a picture of his ex-wife, Penelope. (Stephanie’d never met the woman in the past and so did not recognize her). Tim realizes she must have used her father to abduct Isra (he uses Isra for baby!Steph and Stephanie for his!Steph). Then she blames Damian for the abduction, divorces him, and disappears.

And she may be involved with Tim and the Joker.

“If I hadn’t created that program, if we hadn’t figured out that Damian and Stephanie are related—” Tim trails off and gestures around the room. “This would have been our future.”

“It won’t be,” Bruce promises.

“We have to go back,” Stephanie says. “We have to stop her.”

Bruce agrees and he sets up the device to create their portal home.

Older!Damian quietly squeezes Dick’s shoulder and says “good-bye” before rushing through the portal too quickly to be stopped.

“I lost her once,” he says on the other, “I refuse to lose her again.”

When the others say having two Damians is too confusing, older!Damian offers to go as “Ian Head” instead. He has the fake ID and passport to go with the identity.

(Later Ian will adopt Stephanie. Even though, as she’ll point out, she is turning 18 in a month or two and doesn’t need to be adopted. He uses paternity as proof. And the old, long forgotten news articles about the hospital lying about Crystal Brown’s baby being stillborn resurface. Stephanie keeps her first name, but changes her middle name to “Isra” partially for Ian, partially to explain he and Damian call her that. There are long arguments about whether she’ll keep “Brown” or change to “Head.” Connections are made. Media goes wild.

Talia notices the surname and that Ian’s name is just the last three letters of Damian’s. She will be stopping by for answers. But that’s in the future and not yet).

The present!time crew explains about what they’ve been doing. They tracked the thefts, concluded time travel device, and figured out it was Penelope. They have an idea for where she might be as well.

Before anyone can act on that information, though, alarms ring. The Joker is free.

They have to catch him. Someone needs to stay with Tim at all times, too. Of everything that went wrong in the future, Joker Junior was the start. It ends up being Ian who watches out for Tim. Unbeknownst to the others, however, Ian wants Tim captured. He’s hoping if he follows the Joker, he’ll be able to see Penelope. (Has this Penelope met him yet? Is Isra in her past or future?) He needs to confront her, to get answers.

So Tim is captured and Ian follows. Tim is still in his suit and tied up, rather than strapped down. Penelope arrives and Ian breaks in. His break-in diverts attention from Tim, leaving him tied up insteadof strapped down). Ian confronts Penelope, but is caught by the Joker who scolds him for being in the wrong time. Penelope and the Joker realize that the rest of the Bats might know where they are, so they need to move.

Tim finds the envelope of glitter. He has to hope that Penelope will be too wrapped up in the larger scheme to notice. He doesn’t drop a ton; just enough that he hopes Stephanie will notice.

Stephanie does.

It takes a few days, but they do find Tim and Ian. Penelope is not with them. The Joker is. A big battle ensues. Tim and Ian are rescued. And then Tim is there with a gun in his hand. And some things repeat no matter what. He shoots above the Joker instead, freeing something precariously attached. It falls and knocks the Joker out. Batman ties the Joker up and calls the authorities.

In the distance, watching, Penelope pulls out the microchip she never did give the Joker after Ian’s interruption.

And then it all epilogue. A birthday party for Tim. Ian bonding with Jason of all people. The adoption. And Ian breaking into Arkham and very quietly killing the Joker in his cell. Nothing personal, but his little girl cares about Tim and the Joker had hurt him. And, more importantly, it was time to take one of Penelope’s chess pieces from her.

And then the end.

[glitch-writes]

Writing Reflections - 2/4/2020

(I’ve admired my friend Linn’s process of keeping a writing journal, so I’d like to try the same as I get back into things! ...Doubt they’ll always be this long or organized tho lmao)

I feel like rambling about a few different general things, so I’m gonna break it down by topic instead of addressing any specific fics this time. (I must also say that I don’t expect anyone to read this, it’s more that I want to organize my thoughts, and I invite anyone to read if they’re interested)

Interests: 

I feel like I should talk about this first, since most ppl follow me for Haikyuu, and I've hardly been writing for it the past year. In my burnout, I preferred using what little bits of creative energy I had on writing for RWTW cause there’s less content for my preference there.

My current primary interest is filling the MusaShin tag! Which I’ll ramble about more further down. I’d also like to start writing some video game stuff, like FE3H. 

I would like to write some Haikyuu stuff again in the future, but it would likely be a while, and I’d like to change my focus to EnnoFuta and AsaDai! 

(I will be vague, but if you think you know why I need a break and a change: you’re probably half right. It is not some statement against it or “Oh no, this isn’t my preference” or anything like that, but rather, there’s an element that reminds me of some bad experiences in my past. Similar to “This song played when something bad happened to me, so now I can’t listen to it.” As a result, I’m taking time to let the negative associations ease, and going forward, there’s a handful of male characters and a character archetype I will avoid writing.) 

I do have a ton of HQ wips I don’t intend to go back to, so I'll likely share them here sometime soon before deleting them, cause why not. 

2020 Projects:

So far, I’m running Run with the Wind Week in May, and a RWTW Exchange during the summer! I’m hoping to write at least five fics of varying lengths for the week... all of them MusaShin ofc, lmao

I’m also in a zine for Somnium Files! I cannot properly express how excited I am about this. (It’s such a great game, and it’s on sale, nudge nudge wink wink.) I’ve already finished my first draft, too! It’s been a great experience to step out and write fics for games with this and the DR:Growth zine. 

I mentioned wanting to fill the MusaShin tag above; in short, I want to write them a bunch of oneshots and work on at least one slowburn for them. My problem is that I have so many ideas, I have a hard time settling on any of them, and end up constantly bouncing between wips instead. I’m limiting myself to bouncing between the fanweek fics for the moment, but once that passes... god knows what I’ll end up working on lmao. But also, I should be on something that’ll help me with that, which leads me to:

Mental Health, Burnout, and Pacing:

Wow, that burnout was baaaad. I struggled hard to write anything for what, a year? Every time I thought I was getting back into it, I’d get hit with that feeling again. I definitely feel better now, but I’m also definitely doing more to help avoid the feeling again. 

I set a super small daily goal of 100 words, and honestly? It’s been incredibly helpful. I usually end up writing more than that (usually a lot more), and no matter how much I write, I feel good about making progress, versus not writing for days and feeling stressed over it.

With the burnout gone and this helpful routine in its place, my biggest obstacle now is my ADHD. Concentrating is stupidly difficult no matter what I try (exercise, clean work space, scented candles, trying all sorts of music, etc etc). 

But the good news is: I’m getting treatment for it. I’m on my first prescription for it now, and honestly, it hasn’t worked in the least lmao, but finding a med that works can often take some trial and error, so I’m optimistic that we’ll find something that works for me in time. And when that happens, I hope I’ll write a TON, cause I miss having that as my main hobby. 

And lastly:

god i miss space aus so badly