#oh wait I forgot about the trauma bit when I was writing the tags

[findingcrow]

Halt: I can’t tell which I’m more surprised by- the fact that you didn’t realize you have intense trauma, or that you thought you were straight.

Will: Okay now that’s not fair

[comfortbucky]

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

[poppiesforthirteen]

we'll do it right

the doctor rescues the timeless child.

tags: the timeless child, generational trauma but it’s one person, the doctor is the master is yaz, the tardis trying to put it all back together, pre-flux, child abuse/neglect, killing & unkilling gallifrey like a toggle switch

ao3 link is in the notes

—

Yaz discovered the corner rooms of the TARDIS some weeks back. Most of them are storage for things the Doctor lost or forgot about some centuries ago, treasure troves she's done her best to keep Yaz away from, but this one—a nook one left turn off the bedroom corridor—has to be both their favourite so far, stuffed with cushions and sofas and hammocks hanging from the ceiling. For the past hours, they've been sitting here and peacefully ignoring each other: Yaz is reading (studying, maybe, though the Doctor can't say what she's studying) while the Doctor draws Old Gallifreyan equations on the walls to keep her hands busy while her mind circles.

"Yaz," the Doctor says.

"Yeah?" Yaz looks up from her book; she drops her pen between the pages, closing them on the sticky notes she'd been scribbling on. The Doctor keeps her eyes trained on the book, head hanging upside down from her hammock, half-written calculations neglected on the ceiling.

"What if"—back at the calculations, she's dropped an x somewhere; that must be the problem—"what if you knew that your species—not just everything you did, but everything you are—was due to someone misusing the power of an alien they took to Earth?"

Yaz's eyes trail off. Her brow furrows as she stares into the distance, then looks back at the Doctor. "You mean, like Tim Shaw and the Ux? Or is it a sort of Edison thing?"

"No, as in—before anyone can remember, a human found an alien and"—something else is wrong, is it just a dropped variable? What did she miss—"used part of them, changed what it means to be human forever.

"Made humanity better, part of it at least"—oh, she forgot a minus there, that parenthesis is meant to be negative—"but the alien was still abused for it."

"Did that happen?" Yaz's eyes follow the Doctor as she draws another line of equations on the ceiling. "Wait, 'made humanity better', is that why some people can have lactose and others can't?"

"Just a hypothetical." No, the variable is still definitely missing. The Doctor thinks back a couple of lines. "Nothing to do with Earth."

"Oh." Yaz is thinking again; the Doctor can't see her face; she's at the line with the mistake, almost got it, tip of her tongue. "I mean... if I can do everything I can now—we'd go back in the TARDIS and rescue them, right? Even if it helped humanity, it's not worth their suffering."

"Right," the Doctor says absentmindedly. "Thank you, Yaz."

"Why do you ask?"

"Just a moment, almost got it... ah!" With a flourish, the Doctor writes in the missing x, adjusts her equations and wipes her charcoal-dusted fingertips on her trousers. "There we go! How do you feel about a picnic?"

The corners of Yaz's mouth pinch together. Wriggling out of the hammock, the Doctor is already half out the door when Yaz gets up to join her. "Sure. Picnic. Where to?"

—

A picnic basket under her arm, the Doctor steps out into the field—sun on her face, grass brushing along her legs, green plains dotted with blossoms of yellow and white and blue. It looks like Wales, a little bit, but once you've been around the universe (and the United Kingdom) often enough, everything starts to look a bit like Wales. 

"Here we are!" she says. "The rolling fields of Soria T4—it's all plant life aside from some short-lived pollinators; not much else evolved here. Beautiful planet, perfectly safe." Yaz is holding a rolled-up blanket and a thermos of tea; the focused look in her eyes makes the Doctor feel like a particularly complicated maths problem she's trying to solve. The Doctor sets down the basket. "Now, I have to go for a moment—can you pick out a spot for us? I'll be back before you know it."

Yaz opens her mouth but the Doctor is back in the TARDIS before she can hear her protest; she takes off into the vortex before Yaz can run in after her. Yaz will be fine, she tells the TARDIS (and herself); the Doctor chose the planet well. Anyway, she'll be back within minutes.

The Doctor's eyes catch on a yellow leather jacket hanging by the door. She looks away.

Rocking on her feet, the Doctor takes a deep breath; relaxes her shoulders; cracks her neck. "Right, Doctor, time to find them. Us." Another breath. "Me."

She unlocks the telepathic circuits; pushes a hand inside; jumps back when it tickles her palm. "Would you mind?" she scolds the TARDIS, then eases back inside. Presses down her fingertips first, then her whole palm; breathes through the electrical current tingling and sparking through her arm into her spine.

"I know they're out there. Before Tecteun found them. Look for..." The Doctor bites her lip. She doesn't actually know that much—only what the Master let her see. The Timeless Child. No, she'll have to find them later. If she can make it, she'll land before it's too late.

The Doctor shuts her eyes and pictures the first regeneration on Gallifrey.

—

Before the Doctor opens the doors, she's nauseous. The sense of being too close together, too far apart; she's existing in two bodies right now and one of them is terrified. One of them has never died before and is learning what it means to be concussed, to have vertebrae splinter and bore holes in your central nervous system, to lose feeling in your lower body.

The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS as Tecteun rushes to her child's side. Too slow, Doctor. Better try again. It's started already; light gathering in the child's hands and stomach and hearts until they're so full they can't breathe, until the fire drowns out all other pain. The Doctor shuts the door before it can burst from them. She takes off.

In orbit around Gallifrey, the Doctor can breathe again without bile rising in her throat.

"You could have told me it's a fixed event," she says. "No, you're right; I should have known." Her eyes pinch closed as her stomach turns. "She should have prevented it." The Doctor's fingers tingle, hearts pounding in her chest. She's not the one regenerating, not this her.

There has to be a moment in the child's life that isn't fixed. She's already here; she's found them; she only has to tug on their time stream a little. How hard can it be?

—

It's dark out. She's on the edge of the citadel, where the air lies heavy on her skin—it's always been light and cool outside where she grew up (the second time), and inside the spires, the academy, the government, the air is so artificially pure it stings in her nostrils. No, this is heavy, laden with dust and chemicals and work. The Doctor stifles a sneeze and her gaze catches on a flash of golden light through a window.

Peeping through the window, someone's voice reprimands her at the back of her mind as she sneaks closer, is that what you've come to, Doctor?

Shut up, she thinks back, and hides behind the wall until she can get a look inside.

A small electrical lamp illuminates a beaker filled with something like honey, pure and amber and crystallising at the bottom. The opposite wall is filled with curious experiments like it, fluids running through simple hydrolysis machines up and down the shelves, crystals and jars and a ring of soot in one place or another. Towards the back of the room, the Timeless Child sits and draws circles in crayon on the wall.

Now what?

Tecteun isn't anywhere in sight—the Doctor could walk in and take them and leave and she'd be none the wiser. That is, until her pet—her child doesn't come when she calls.

Do they remember where they were taken from? The Master wasn't specific. Could the Doctor find it?

She feels nauseous again.

That's the problem, Doctor, says the voice again, you never think these things through. Are you going to be a kidnapper? How does that make you any better? You'd raise yourself right back into the person you are now; cut out the middleman; you'll never be more than—

The child is staring directly at her. Crayon clutched in their fist, eyes wide, mouth open because they haven't learned that it's proper to keep it closed yet. The Doctor stares back as if eventually, she'll recognize the eyes she's looking into. As if it will make the child see her and know.

This is what happens to you. Please tell me you like it.

The door flies open and Tecteun marches through—the child flinches and hides their crayon behind their back, not quickly enough. The Doctor can't hear what she yells; she can't make herself watch.

By the time she's back in the TARDIS, her whole body is trembling. She slumps down, leaning against the shut door and closes her eyes as the first hint of phantom regeneration pricks her palms again. Breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth and tries not to imagine sparks flying from her lips.

The air in the TARDIS is lighter, cool like night air is meant to be, free of the chemical undertone the Doctor will taste for the next week. It smells of metal, of rock salt, of something sweet and earthy—the Doctor opens her eyes to find Yaz's jacket dangling on a coat hook some feet from her face.

She's never really noticed Yaz's perfume before. Shoulders relaxing, nausea subsiding, the Doctor inhales again, filling her lungs with jasmine and sandalwood, steel and glowing crystals and her box out of time. She can be back with Yaz within minutes of her leaving. She can save the child, change the foundation of Gallifrey and still return to have a picnic on Soria T4.

The TARDIS takes off and the Doctor doesn't ask where they're going. She crawls over to the mattress left out on the floor. She hugs a pillow to her chest, kneading the fabric until her hands stop tingling, breathing in the familiar scent of herself until she's no longer split in two. The Doctor rests her eyes and, for the first time in a while, she sleeps.

—

The Doctor awakes to the suns streaming in through the windows. Blearily, she sorts her coat (never sleeping in it again; her shoulders are all sorts of twisted) and runs her fingers through her hair. She opens the door only to slam it shut, blinking spots from her vision after staring directly into the closer of Gallifrey's suns. In orbit again, the door facing the wrong way.

"Did that on purpose," she mutters. "Cheeky."

The Doctor pushes down the lever. The TARDIS hums, then lands, and the last of its thrumming is overtaken by enormous turbines—the sound of an ancient spacecraft landing. The blazing suns greet her again as she steps out—this is well outside the citadel, a landing platform for an early Gallifreyan space mission. Dozens of people around her—they're not Time Lords, not yet—hold their breath as Tecteun leaves her vessel, a small child holding her hand.

They shrink behind her, intimidated by the crowd, turning their head and—they shouldn't be able to see her; she's too far off; but maybe they catch a glimpse of the TARDIS, or they just know.

"Another fixed event," the Doctor says to herself. "Why do we keep going to moments I can't change?" She watches herself be tugged down into the crowd, still facing her, off in the distance, until they disappear into a crowd of taller people. Into a future of neglect, sensationalised, then forgotten, then abused.

She was a child.

No one should have done that to her.

She turns away.

The TARDIS' door slams behind her as she storms to the console. "Let me get closer," the Doctor demands. "I can't just leave them there."

The air hangs heavy like a blanket over her shoulders. "Spare me your pity," she hisses. Jaw clenched, she shoves her hand in the telepathic circuit and pulls.

—

Wherever they are, it must be closer to the present. The Doctor's nerves are on end, all tingly—she tries to take it as a good sign.

It's late in the evening—one of the suns has already set, the other has half vanished behind the mountains. The sky has gone from orange to deep red; this far from the citadel, the darkness vanishes in the light of millions of stars. To her left, a house, distantly familiar in a way she can't place. No children in sight.

As she approaches the house, a figure ducks away from an upstairs window—there, that would be them, different this time, blue eyes, light skin. Already started.

Maybe they remember her. Probably not—regeneration scrambles her mind badly each time she does it, and she usually has a few decades to centuries space between them. Still, it's a nice thought.

Tecteun isn't around. Now could be her chance—she could change her life. Change the future of Gallifrey, the course of the universe. Save herself.

She can't.

She has to leave herself behind.

The child's head pokes up again. They wave—slowly, the Doctor waves back. At least they look happy. Not yet eight—they wouldn't be academy age. They seem familiar, oddly, like she's seen them before. Not through archives, but really seen them. Echoes of who she used to be.

The child ducks back down. The Doctor turns away, watching the sky go black, and doesn't think about how long that body has left.

—

The Doctor marches past Yaz's jacket, the door closing behind her. "I don't know," she says into the TARDIS. "I'll figure something out. Just anywhere for now."

The TARDIS starts, sputters and stops. The Doctor pulls the lever again and it restarts—

—the TARDIS shakes. Nasty bit of turbulence, crossing her own time stream; the Doctor circles around the console to fix it, stabilise. She's nearly thrown off her feet, but can grab on to a psychic sensor. Inhales; closes her eyes; calms her mind. I'm here. It's alright. The TARDIS stutters, then the engines relax; they're stable, but still not safe. Flying through dangerous territory, something unknown. She connects back in, tethers her visual nerves to the sensors and—

There he is. The same child, the one she just saw at the window, barely older. Staring into the Untempered Schism with piercing blue eyes. The Doctor watches him; at the back of her mind, she hears drums.

"I'm so sorry," she breathes.

The four step beat continues; it shakes the TARDIS; the Doctor pushes buttons to divert it but it only grows louder. She's torn through time and space, through everything the Master will see and do, through the drums the drums the drums—

She sees herself at the window, at his side, at the other end of a blade, holding him as he dies in the Doctor's arms. The drums mellow. The world goes quiet.

The TARDIS leaves.

—

Sat on the steps up to the third hall, the Doctor worries her lip between her teeth, fists clenched, blue eyes burnt into her mind. This is it—this isn't just his past, it's Gallifrey's, it's so deeply intertwined with her own she can't find a thread to cut without unravelling herself in the process. But he's a child. He's a child and none of this is justified. Gallifrey ruined their

lives to make itself better and the Doctor can sacrifice her past but she can't leave two terrified children behind.

This is the past she can remember; it's too much of a risk to cross. She can't tell herself any of this. She can't learn it before her time.

Maybe he can.

"I'm not experimenting on him," she says, typing in coordinates, "leave me alone." She knows them by heart; doesn't need to watch her hands as they adjust dials, each setting lower a satisfying click between her fingertips. She sets them to some years before her first practice flights around a featureless TARDIS with half a dozen other nervous students, she and the Master daring each other to take greater and greater risks before they both got kicked out of the class. The first time they lifted out of the garage and bobbed in the river, a massive stone obelisk tits-up in the water.

The TARDIS glows warmly. The Doctor pretends it's not a warning.

"Just a couple minutes. We'll be gone before you know it."

Jasmine and sandalwood. Liar.

"Don't need you to parent me." She takes off and the TARDIS complies.

—

The Doctor has seen this courtyard hundreds of times. The TARDIS lands in a corner behind a group of trees losing their leaves; they don’t crunch as nicely under the Doctor's feet as they do on Earth. Doesn't stop her from expecting it.

She even got the time right: There's barely anyone around to notice her, the last red-robed students heading for the heavy metal gates and not paying abandoned corners of courtyards they see every day any mind. Her past self isn't around—for a moment, she worries she won't recognise herself, but the Doctor would recognise the Master any day and she couldn't be found too far from his side.

Except for now. There he is, alone. Same blue eyes; he grew out his hair around year twelve and she always kept a hair tie around her wrist for the low ponytail he put it in. The robes, incredibly impractical, but while she always bent the uniform rules to make things easier for herself he broke them to make his uniform less practical on purpose.

She doesn't have to approach him directly—always more alert than the rest, brilliant, even this young—he notices her and is already half across the lawn (more curious than wise, but the same can be said for herself).

"Who are you?" he demands.

"Listen to me," says the Doctor. "You don't understand it yet—"

He scoffs.

"—but you will lead a life in which none of your suffering is justified."

"Honestly, who do you think you are—"

“l"And I want to say something hopeful, but it won't get better. You can't tell anyone about the drums, or the hunger, or the rage, because they won't understand. You think that this happened to you because you're special, but you're not. You're just unlucky."

His jaw sets. "I'm going now," he says, and turns. The Doctor grabs his arm.

"Listen. You haven't met this face yet, but when you do, you'll blame me for everything. That's fine. Hold onto that. It's not true, but it's easier." She stares into cold eyes, hardened; she used to be able to tell exactly what’s behind them. Somewhere, she lost the sense for whatever the Master is thinking. "Just know that I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it. You never did."

The Master laughs shortly. "This isn't real, is it? I've completely lost it this time." He pulls his arm from her grip. She lets him. "If you're a ghost from my time stream, I'll make sure to blame you once we meet properly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go home."

You tried, the Doctor tells herself as the Master walks away, smooth as a cat trying to regain its honour after falling off a windowsill. That's all you can do. You can't change anything.

But this time, you tried.

—

It nags at her—the Doctor ignores the jacket, no matter how many coincidental spotlights the TARDIS shines on it; ignores the tugs to her conscience. Five minutes. As many five minutes as she needs, and Yaz will be none the wiser. You like her too; you want me to be put together before I get back. She won't be put together until she satisfies the nagging, the curiosity itching at the back of her mind. This is necessary.

Just a quick stop.

—

The Doctor feels the heat before she's opened the doors. She grew up in a desert; she's used to the heat—she's used to orange skies, red sands, burning suns. The warm light through the windows isn't unusual.

Her hand on the door—it has to be different now. Her effort is worth something; she makes impacts; it's what she does. She's going to open the TARDIS and be rewarded.

The door opens. She feels the flames before she sees them, same as ever. Nothing has changed.

—

The TARDIS lands on Soria T4—enthusiastically, the Doctor throws the door open, greeted by a dusky blue sky, the sun setting in her back. Ah.

Yaz looks up from her book. Eyes cold, jaw set. The Doctor winces.

"How long?"

"Three hours." Yaz stands and pushes past her into the TARDIS.

"Sorry," the Doctor says.

"Sure."

"We can still have a picnic—"

"Out of tea." Yaz takes her jacket from the coat hook. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Doctor. Hope you had a good time."

"Night, Yaz."

Yaz disappears in the bedroom corridor, leaving the Doctor standing in the doorframe. She flops to the ground. Legs dangling out of the TARDIS, grass brushing her ankles. The picnic basket is still outside. She'll bring it in when she's ready.

The Doctor watches the stars appear one by one in the late evening sky. Feels the planet turn, a fixed point in the universe; does maths in the back of her head and thinks of every variable she's dropped.

—

thanks for reading!! the title is from the story of the phoenix by tamiscolaris, that and the ao3 link are in the notes

please reblog! and comment if you can, it helps me know i’m appreciated and above all else i want to know everyone’s thoughts - we’re running a little media discussion club here djsjdfj

have a nice day! <3

[veliseraptor]

got tagged for two fic writer memes yesterday! the one from @ameliarating first:

How many works do you have on AO3?

509.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

3,432,24. dang! that’s a lot of words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I have written for...counting the MCU as one fandom, on AO3 I have written for 32 fandoms, including at least one work in:

MCU, The Sillmarillion, Caliban Leandros, both DC and Marvel Comics, the book Barebacked by Kit Whitfield, Doctrine of Labyrinths, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Wars, Black Jewels, Dragon Age, Lucifer, Dexter, Temeraire, Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Supernatural, A Song of Ice and Fire, Greek Mythology, Lymond Chronicles, Merlin BBC, Code Geass, Good Omens,  Death Note, and White Collar.

this is not a comprehensive list of every fandom I’ve ever written for, because it is not including ones that live only on FFN or Livejournal.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Life In Reverse tops the list (11066), aka my 200k Loki-centric post-Thor AU fic that I wrote between 2012 and 2018 and with which I have a decidedly complex relationship at this point. I love it but also I no longer think it’s my best work but also I credit it with teaching me a fuck of a lot about writing and writing longer projects in general.

With Absolute Splendor is rapidly catching up, to my astonishment (6559), despite having been posted for less than half as long. Aka the wedding planning fic that’s really just me mucking about in my Jiang Cheng and my Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian feelings, at length.

some good mistakes (4618) was my first foray into the Untamed version of “characters who hate each other going on resentful roadtrips together, feat. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng.” I have gone on to write others and will continue to write more.

Unraveling (3069) is a little bit of a surprise but also not - it was originally just sort of WWP stuff for my ‘what if people remembered that blunt force trauma is a really bad thing actually’ problem that pops up sometimes, re: Loki at the end of The Avengers, and then it kind of turned into a whole thing. I personally think it’s the weakest of the installments of the series it belongs to, but it is the first one and also the one that gets least into the broader family dysfunction and depression stuff that probably is less everyone’s thing (but is what came out this fic that mattered more to me, personally).

I am a little surprised to see Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains (3068) here too! I was expecting one of the more...idk, mainstream concepts from the MCU to win out? But I also wasn’t expecting two Untamed fics to make it here, either. But I am stupid proud of this fic even if it is very extraordinarily unfinished. This is one of those unfinished fics that will nag at me unless and until I finish it, at least a little, because the concept - if I do say so myself - is so goddamn good and I think I was executing it pretty well, too.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Pretty much never. I was never very good at it and now I’d feel like I had to go back and reply to all of them and I just. I can’t do that. and when I do try to just start at the beginning I get overwhelmed very fast and start avoiding it.

Basically I decided that if it’s a decision between wrestling with myself to reply to comments versus actually doing more writing I’m going to end up landing on the latter as feeling both more doable and more productive.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

probably it’s The Worlds Forgotten, the Words Forbidden for sheer level of “so then what was the point” of it all. but like. I’ve definitely written a few extraordinarily miserable fics, and by “a few” I kind of mean “a lot.” Other nominees I’d put down might be nor autumn falter (for currently personally making me suffer most), once there was a way to get back home (for I think having the ouchiest summary), and Waiting for the Summer Rain (which remains one of my personal favorite Supernatural fics I wrote).

but like. there are 43 fics I have marked with Major Character Death warnings and every single one of those, pretty much, has a downer ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written several though not in a long time! My craziest probably remains the Morgoth/Cthulhu short I wrote that actually got sporked because someone took it seriously (???) enough to do that. But the craziest that actually has any merit, (I’d argue) is probably the Maeglin/Viserys one.

not linking to either, if you want to go find them I don’t think it’ll be that hard.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah, a few times on a few different things. More if you count “people who seem to like the fic but love telling you how much they hate the female characters you’re writing about in it” as ‘hate’ which I would but isn’t, you know, quite as straightforward. If I had a nickel for every time someone bitched about Jane in Life in Reverse, though...lots of nickels.

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Sure do! But what does ‘what kind’ mean, I don’t know how to answer that question. I feel tempted to just put in my “Mike’s Hard Kinks” image edit in this space.

I guess usually I tend to write smut that at least involves a little bit of a kink? I don’t think I’d feel comfortable writing entirely kinkless smut. I think I’d feel weird about it, the same way I do when I write really nice fic, generally.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think I did back when but I don’t remember anything about it. I feel like it was one of those mass data scraping things where my fic happened to be among those caught up in it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! several actually, mostly into Russian and Chinese. every time it happens I’m immensely flattered that someone wants to put in that kind of work on something I wrote.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I think I’d be very, very bad at it.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Depends on when you ask me! I could probably give you a top five but then I’d remember six that I forgot to mention five minutes later. I guess if I were to think about ships that feel like they hold very special particular places in my heart... Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Steve Rogers/Loki, and Min/Rand come to mind.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

oh god do you want the whole list cause honestly I could just like. screencap the entirety of my “in progress” folder with a crying emoji watermarked over it. and that’s not getting into the fics that are like...half formed babies in my consciousness but not anywhere on paper.

and also I just hate to admit that I might not finish something.

you know what? the Lucifer/Good Omens crossover I started would’ve been a lot of fun. I’m probably never going to finish it, but it would’ve been great if I had. I know other people did it too but my contribution could’ve been amazing.

I can say this very boldly with the near certainty that I’m not going to finish the fic so no one will be able to disagree.

(...also the Last Herald-Mage fix it. that was going to be a good fic too, and also will probably languish unfinished forever.)

What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty sure dialogue is my strongest point. Dialogue and emotions, which is why I always end up just wanting to write about characters talking and having feelings at each other.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing action sequences throws me into conniptions every time I have to do it and I will take drastic actions sometimes to avoid doing it at all, which probably weakens the work as a whole.

Also, I don’t plan ahead and this means I write myself into corners kind of a lot. If I wasn’t writing long, dense fic it wouldn’t be a problem but here we are.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I tend to avoid it unless it’s in the context of, as in CQL/MDZS fic, leaving certain terminology untranslated. I’m pretty sure I almost never write full exchanges of dialogue in a different language than I’m using for the narration within a fic, and generally speaking my reaction to other people doing it is at least mildly negative.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was technically the first fandom I wrote for, but it was a crack fic I wrote to make my friends laugh more than anything; I tend to count Wheel of Time as my first actual fandom for which I wrote my first actual fic.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

some days the answer is “all of them” and some day the answer is “I don’t like anything I’ve written in my entire life” and I never like giving this a definitive answer. yesterday I reread efforts in a common cause (the bound copy!! thanks @spockandawe) and you know what, that was a good fic and I’m proud of it, so I’m going with that one, for this meme, today.

tagging: @mostfacinorous, @jaggedcliffs, @silvysartfulness, @mikkeneko, @kasasagi-eye, @curiosity-killed, how many people am I supposed to tag for this one anyway

[falcon-eye]

Felt like I was neglecting Hamra a little bit, so this one is about him! Sorry Veko and Eloise will be back soon, I promise. Another part of my OC story from @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! This one also got away from me. I started writing this literally not knowing where it was going and it just kinda ran wild. Potential trigger warnings for panic attacks, talk of past trauma (but no details yet, only allusions), and Hamra’s horrible self-image. I’ve also given up on italics cuz I’ve been writing all this on my phone and it’s been a nightmare to format lol Enjoy!

Tag list! Let me know if you want to be added! @ainawgsd @rocknrollphanda

—————————

Sonja and Fritz weren’t the only people to come look after the baby, but they were the only ones who knew Hamra was in the rafters and so they greeted him every time they came by. Strangely, it made Hamra feel good even though he came to this room to get away from everyone. They would peer up at him, wave or say hi occasionally, take care of the baby, and then say goodbye on their way out. After a while, Hamra stopped holding his breath every time he heard the door open.

The hole he had chipped in the wall for him to crawl through straight onto “his” rafters was big enough now that he didn’t dislodge bits of rock when he slunk through. Apparently, the baby’s mother had been concerned that the room was falling apart, but either Sonja or Fritz had assured her that everything was alright. Hamra hadn’t met the baby’s mother yet, and though he’d never admit it, he almost didn’t ever want to. Sonja and Fritz letting him stick around was one thing; the baby’s mother had every right to scream and kick him out. He supposed be could find another room, but with servants and apparently more nobles occasionally flocking to Kaer Morhen, the number of quiet, secluded rooms was dwindling. And though he knew about Camp Sulk, it felt uncomfortable to seek refuge in a place so many others used; the mixed smells and leftover emotions alone made Hamra’s skin crawl.

Not everyone who came to take care of the baby came in pairs, but Sonja and Fritz always came together. So it was odd when one day only Sonja showed, giving Hamra a little wave before tending to the child. Hamra waited for Fritz to enter but... nothing. It wasn’t like not having both of them was wrong, per say, but Hamra liked patterns; he liked having some kind of “normalcy” in his life, however form that took.

“Where’s—“ Hamra started, and Sonja gasped, clutching the baby to her chest. She looked up at Hamra and laughed awkwardly.

“Whew!” she said. “Oh, Master Witcher, you startled me! I almost forgot what your voice sounded like!”

Hamra slowly crept down from his perch. “Sorry,” he said softly. There was a few moments’ silence, Sonja watching Hamra, Hamra watching the ground, the baby babbling softly as he sucked his own fist.

“Did you... need something?” Sonja asked.

All the courage Hamra had was gone. He didn’t mean to scare her. Sonja ducked her head to meet Hamra’s eyes and blinked up at him expectantly.

“Wh-where...” Hamra began, but his voice failed him. He wrung his hands together, looked over at the door, pointed at Sonja, and then the empty space next to her.

“Oh!” Sonja exclaimed, and Hamra was just able to contain a flinch at the sudden sound. “Fritz! Fritz is... helping Miss Heddy today.” At Hamra’s blank look, she added, “Olek’s mother?”

Olek, Olek, Olek, where had he heard that name? Fuck, he was bad at names. He was bad at people. He was bad at a lot of things: talking, thinking, signs—Hamra hunched his shoulders around his ears as his mind went on a tangent.

Sonja apparently noticed Hamra’s discomfort. “Ah, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you,” she said, “since Fritz and I are the only ones who know you’re here.” Sonja adjusted the baby on her hip and took his little hand in hers. “This is Olek!”

Oh. Yeah. That would make sense. The baby—Olek cooed and wrapped his hand around Sonja’s finger. Hamra, not knowing what else to do, nodded.

“You haven’t met Miss Heddy yet, have you?” Sonja asked.

Hamra heard the rush of blood in his ears. His eyes went wide and he met Sonja’s gaze. Oh gods, was she going to tell the mother he was there?

Sonja took a step back at his panic and held out a hand. “I-it’s ok!” she said, now a little startled herself. “I was just curious!” Sonja settled Olek back into his crib. “She’s a really nice lady,” she continued, still facing the crib. Hamra was greatful; having someone’s full attention on him was hard. “She brought Fritz and I here. We were... well, we were in a bad way when she found us. Miss Heddy used to be a merchant. Or, she still is, occasionally. She’s been down in Wolvenburg for the past little while, so that’s why she hasn’t been here with the little one, here.”

Hamra nodded despite the fact that Sonja was facing away from him. The fact that she wasn’t looking at him emboldened him, a little. “You... won’t tell her I’m here?” he asked softly.

Sonja made a move to turn around, but then thought better of it. She put both hands on the side of Olek’s crib and stared at the wall. “I won’t,” she assured, “but... why? I-if you don’t mind me asking!”

If he didn’t mind? He was the intruder here. “I-I want...” he swallowed thickly, picking at the skin of his palm. “To stay... here.”

This time, Sonja did turn around. “Why wouldn’t you?” Hamra didn’t answer, staring down at the floor, but he heard Sonja sigh softly. “If I can be honest, Master Witcher, I think she’d love to know that her baby is being looked after by someone so capable.”

Hamra met her gaze again. Capable? That wasn’t something Hamra had ever been called before, except by maybe Veko. But Veko was his brother, his twin. It would look bad if Veko openly considered his own flesh and blood to be mess that he was.

“You don’t think so?” Sonja asked. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then suddenly spun around to pick Olek back up. “Here, would you like to hold him?”

Hamra’s slow heartbeat raced to a speed he wasn’t aware it could get to anymore. The baby reached out for him and Hamra surged backwards til he hit the wall. Sonja’s face fell. Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her upset! He just couldn’t... How could he hold a baby? How could he hold something so precious? All he did was destroy; all he did was hurt. Even Veko, the only person in the world to care for him despite everything he was, had been burned and scarred by Hamra’s destruction.

Hamra didn’t realize Sonja was calling him for a few moments. When he came back to himself, breath haggard, he found himself on the floor, curled with his knees to his chest. Sonja was kneeling a few feet away. Hamra sniffed, smelling before seeing with horror that Sonja was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she was saying, hands held up. “Master Witcher, I’m sorry, so sorry, are you alright?”

Hamra swallowed hard and slammed his hand onto the stone floor a lot harder than he meant to. Sonja flinched, but didn’t flee or move forward. Hamra scraped his hand along the stone, catching tiny bits of gravel and dirt in the lines of his palm, forward and back, forward and back, as the rest of the room came into focus. Olek was in his crib, making distressed noises.

“M-master Witcher?” Sonja said softly. Hamra sniffed again and nodded, staring at a point on the floor between them. “M-may I...?”

What was she asking? May she what? May she leave? She was a nice girl, probably trying to be polite to this fucking wreck of a Witcher—wreck of a grown man, even! But when he nodded, all she did was slide forward on her knees a few feet until she was directly in front of him.

It wasn’t until she reached out and towards him that he realized he was making a soft keening noise, because as soon as she touched his knee, he stopped. Sonja searched his eyes, and what she was looking for he had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” Sonja whispered. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you, Master Witcher. It’s ok. You don’t need to hold the baby if you don’t want to.”

Sonja gently brushed her thumb over Hamra’s knee and all of his attention focused on the feel of her hand on him. Why was she touching him? Didn’t she know what he could’ve done just then? What happened when Cats lose time like that? What happened to the people around them?

He must’ve made a noise or a face or something, because Sonja’s hand slid off of his knee. “O-ok,” she said softly, holding her hands up again for him to see. After a moment, she slowly lowered them to clasp together her lap. Mercifully, she also broke their eye contact. “I-I didn’t mean to... W-well, um...” A few tears dropped onto her skirt and she wiped her eyes hastily. He’d made her cry. She was nice to him, said hi and bye to him, and he made her cry!

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words sounding almost punched out of him.

“N-no, it’s not your fault!” Sonja said, waving her hands. “I-I didn’t know that would set spark.”

Set... What?

Again, Hamra must’ve made a face, because Sonja hurried to continue. “I-It’s something Miss Heddy says,” she explained. “She says some people call it different things but it’s like... when you’re trying to start a fire, a single spark is sometimes all it takes. And even though it’s so small, it can build and build until the fire is so large.” Sonja fumbled with the hem of her skirt and swallowed. “Some people, some things they hear or see or—or sometimes even smell, it... sets spark. Fritz and I... we were in a bad place, before the White Wolf came to power. And sometimes... sometimes I still... spark. Over small things. And I—I lose myself. B-but it’s ok! It happens to a lot of people. Especially people who have seen a lot of bad things in their lives.”

Hamra was enraptured; he thought this was only a thing that happened because of his mutations and his fucked up head. The idea that others experienced even something similar to what he had—it was almost overwhelming. And the idea that it happened to Sonja... made Hamra incredibly sad. She was so nice; she shouldn’t have to experience that.

Sonja nodded to herself and met Hamra’s eyes again. “I don’t always, um,” she bit her lip again, searching for the words. “I don’t always lose my breath, like that. I... cry. And I get quiet. I-I know I talk a lot, and I ramble, but... but when something sets spark, I go quiet. Because I was... never supposed to speak, before. They didn’t like it. And when something sparks, it’s like I’m back there again and I need to be quiet. Or something bad will happen. A-and I know the people around me aren’t them, but it’s like a part of my mind can’t tell the difference.”

Hamra wanted to destroy any and everything that ever made Sonja feel that way. For a moment, he almost became consumed by the anger at the mere thought. He started breathing heavier, but tried so hard to calm down. No, this wasn’t helping. He was just going to make it worse.

Hamra slammed his head back against the wall and Sonja yelped. “N-no! Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “Please, don’t do that, I’m sorry Master Witcher!”

Admittedly, it hadn’t been a great idea, but the pain in Hamra’s head made his anger fade. He cupped the back of his head in one and and curled forward with a groan. He heard the rustling of fabric and very gently, Sonja’s hand came to rest on the back of his.

Hamra looked up at her as she was wiping her eyes again. “That’s another thing some people do,” she said. “H-hurt themselves. Please, Master Witcher, don’t do that.”

“H-hamra,” Hamra said softly.

“Master Hamra,” Sonja said, nodding.

Hamra shook his head. “Just... just Hamra.”

Sonja smiled, and fuck if it wasn’t beautiful. Behind them, Olek let out a loud whine and Hamra winced. Sonja stood and went to the crib; Hamra stood as she did so. Fuck, he felt like he’d just been hit by... well, every Witcher in the keep. And a wyvern.

Sonja settled Olek down and when she turned, Hamra was already back in the rafters. She smiled gently at him and nodded. He nodded back and waved. Why did he wave?

“If, um,” Sonja cleared her throat. “If you ever need—or want—to... to talk. I’m, um. I’ll—I’ll listen. Or if you just need someone to—to be there—“ She was blushing, and Hamra could hear her rapid heartbeat. “I can...” Sonja gathered the supplies she’d brought for Olek and took a deep breath. “I, um, I need to be going now. Think about it, maybe?”

As Sonja opened the door, something akin to courage came over Hamra. “Goodbye, Sonja,” he said.

Sonja smiled up at him softly. “Good day, Hamra.”

[carynsilver]

Favorite Fics: Drarry Edition

Like I mentioned last time, reading has been a big comfort to me with all this craziness and sheltering at home, so I want to pay it forward and send love to some of the writers whose work has been brightening my quarantine. Thanks, guys!

For this list, we’re leaving the MCU for a while and heading over to the Wizarding World. I liked Harry Potter when it came out, but I never really read much fanfic until I realized a couple of years ago how much a redeemed Draco fit into the redemption trope that I loved in Harringrove, LoVe, SnowBaz, and other fandoms and ships. Once I started perusing the fics out there, I realized that one of the strengths of this fandom is the length and quality of the stories. I love stories that are a meal, and Drarry provides so many!

As I’ve gotten into the ship (so many years late, lol), these are my top 10 favorites.

dirtynumbangelboy by @magpiefngrl

This is probably the Drarry fic that I most enjoy. I come back to it fairly often when I need just a good read in the HP world. Fake dating is one of my absolute favorite tropes, which made this one an automatic win for me, but it’s written with such heart. I really, really love Draco in this fic. His uni studies and his flat being so different from the diffident image he projects. This is also probably the best Astoria I’ve ever read. Also--Jam Today! Read it now!

Do It All Over Again by DracoWillHearAboutThis

I only discovered this series earlier this year, and I’ve already read it at least three times from beginning to end. It’s a re-telling of the original series starting from Book 1. Draco sends himself a letter from the future basically saying that his dad is wrong, and he needs to give up his pure blood ideals and befriend Harry, then--boom--the Golden Trio’s adventures all happen with Draco in tow (and eventual romance, of course). The plot is fairly similar to the actual series, but I am there for the angst and the character growth. Narcissa kicks ass in this ‘verse, and Draco/Hermionie as besties is a treat! Book 4 and Book 6 are both amazing. And her titles are hilarious. This is the only series on my list that is still a WIP, but there’s plenty to read. Books 1 - 6 are complete, and a new chapter for 7 comes out every two weeks. It’s a safe bet so far, and it’s so good--why wait?

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587

In this fic, Draco takes a job as Potions Professor at Hogwarts after getting divorced under horrible circumstances and renews his acquaintance with Harry, who is the DADA Professor. It’s got a bisexual awakening, and manages to combine friends with benefits with some supreme pining. Like a whole pine forest. Thunderbird587′s Draco POV is so fleshed out, and yet it also lets us see how Harry is pining, even when Draco himself doesn’t. Plus, at over 200K, it is long enough to get lost in for ages, which is perfect right about now. And when you finish the main fic, there are three other ancillary fics, two in Harry’s POV that take place during the main one. The cufflinks one is my favorite, but the writing is so good that I even thoroughly enjoyed the third sub-fic that fleshed out an OC. So, so worth the read--all of it!

The Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl

All of the fics by Saras_Girl are great. You can’t go wrong with any of them. But Reparations, Foundations, and all the little one-shots after are my favorite. It honestly surprised me at first, because alcoholism is a trigger for me, but this fic actually helped me realize that it’s the addiction part, the fall to rock bottom that triggers me. Recovery stories are different. And, I guess, this one is a bit different in that, though it has plenty of characters recovering, Draco himself is actually in a healthy place and facilitating recovery without relapsing. Harry is a Healer in this one, which is not the usual, and I quite enjoy his other relationships in this ‘verse, as well. He, Ron, and Hermione’s friendship is great in this one (their pub nights crack me up), but I also really like Harry’s friends at St. Mungo’s. My second favorite Terry Boot ever, and two awesome OC chicks. And the process of Drarry going from can’t stand each other to in love is slow and prickly and yet really believable. Oh, and Harry and Narcissa’s relationship in this one is just fabulous.

Golden Age by zeitgeistic (faire_weather)

The Hufflepuff in me was bound to fall in love with this fic. I really enjoy Eighth Year fics, especially the ones that embrace inter-house unity (shouldn’t have taken them a war to see the need for that!). This one takes it to a new level when everyone in... I think it was 6th - 8th years were resorted at the welcome feast, and the whole 8th year dynamic is shaken up. Harry, Draco and Neville become Hufflepuffs; Hermione and Pansy become Ravenclaws; Ginny becomes a Slytherin; and somehow Ron and Blaise are the ones who stay in their houses because the hat thinks they are basically the uber Gryffindor and Slytherin. But with the rest of them, we get to see them embrace other facets of their personalities, which is super interesting. And then, after the resorting, we find out that Hufflepuffs have a whole different world going on that basically no one outside their house knows about, and that world is brilliant. Even Hufflepuff food in the Great Hall is different! Everyone would enjoy this story, I think, but if you are a ‘Puff, you really, truly should not miss it. And if you like this one, check out some of zeitgeistic’s other works. Her world building is fabulous.

Life skills outside the curriculum by Endrina

In this fic, Harry gets fed up with the Dursleys before his 11th birthday and runs away before he gets his Hogwarts letter. He ends up on the streets and somehow embraces this kind of instinctual magic that is really fascinating. A few years later, Draco runs away rather than get involved more closely with the Dark Lord, and of course they meet up. This whole fic is super compelling. Harry’s world view and the way people gravitate toward him even without chosen one status. Also, this fic has one of my favorite versions of Remus and Sirius ever. I really wish there was a part two that went in depth on everything that happened after the end of this one, but even on its own it is so worth the read. And everything is wrapped up. I’m just greedy and would’ve loved more. :-)

A Convenient Impracticality by @firethesound

This fic combines friends with benefits and fake dating into a really enjoyable story. Harry is so oblivious, but it all works out in the end. And Draco is a secret mastermind, but in a good way. So is Hermione. Unlike some of the other, angstier stories on my list, this one is so fun, and I love it. And if you like it, check out more of firethesound’s work, as well. It’s worth it!

you’ve got the antidote for me by kandakicksass

And then, back on the angst train, lol. Soulmates, red string of fate, rejected bond = terminal disease. Whew! There’s a lot to unpack in this one, but after I read it, I never forgot it. I read a lot of fic in a lot of fandoms, and I always know a story is going to become a favorite if it stands out so much that I remember it later and think about it. That surely happened here.

(We’ll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by phdmama

This is one of the first fics I read on my first Drarry binge, and I’ve always remembered it. Just like I love Eighth Year and Hogwarts professor fics, I also love fics where they have really unexpected jobs--pretty much anything other than Aurors. In this one, Harry is an artist/photographer and Draco is an up-and-coming rock star. The music and art, the creativity is important in this fic, but it also really looks at Draco’s recovery after the war in ways I haven’t read since, and I’m also a sucker for our favorite characters actually addressing and recovering from their trauma. 

Boom Clap (The Sound of My Heart) by @femmequixotic and noeon (noe)

This fic takes the Eighth Year trope to the next level. Draco, Harry, Hermione, and some other faves are teaching fellows at Hogwarts. Junior professors, kind of. It read like if the HP crew went to college. And, of course, Draco and Harry fall in love along the way, but not without much angst and obliviousness. I really enjoy the Draco POV in this. His worries and anxieties feel so real for that stage in his life, but amped up because of the past. This was one I read, never forgot, and then had to go back and find so i could read it again.

So, those are my top 10, but there is lots of other good Drarry out there--both from these authors and all the others in the ship and the fandom. Thanks for all the writing you guys do.

Oh, and tagging @virtual-insomnia, but only because she said she might want to make some quarantine fic lists of her own. :-)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 244: Have You Read This Book

Previously on BnHA: Deku visited his mom on New Year’s Eve and was all “here’s a new letter from my ever-expanding fanclub of adorable preschoolers whom I saved from trauma” and Inko was all, “I’M SO PROUD OF YOU IZUKU I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE TO PROTECT YOU ANYMORE” because she doesn’t watch the news at all or keep track of ominous plot developments I guess. The next morning, a.k.a. New Year’s Fucking Day, while other kids their age visited shrines or sat at home watching TV, Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki were bussed off to go be child soldiers at Endeavor’s hero agency. Katsuki was all “HEY ENDEAVOR YOU’RE KIND OF A DICK,” and Endeavor was all “SHOUTO IS THIS VULGAR AND PUGNACIOUS YOUTH REALLY YOUR FRIEND” and Shouto was all “TOO LATE DAD, YOU SAID!!” and Endeavor hmmphed and booked it out of there and the kids all followed him and there was this old dude with a beard floating around screaming about END TIMES!! and Hawks was there and, what?? Seriously does anyone actually know what’s going on?

Today on BnHA: Endeavor chases down the old man (who may in fact be an actual prophet, though? Horikoshi what games are you playing) and sets him on fire and tackles him and it’s all very violent. Hawks then appears out of nowhere and breaks up BakuDeku’s tag team effort all “SAVE IT FOR THE MOVIE YOU TWO!” and is then all “hi Shouto” and “hi, you must be Midoriya, Tokoyami told me all about you, I wanted to work with you too, BUT -- [stares off angstily into the distance].” Then, because I forgot that Hawks never shuts up, he’s all, “Hey Endeavor have you ever heard of this book, ‘Paranormal Liberation Front’? Don’t let the really dumb-sounding title put you off, it’s actually a rousing tale full of hidden clues about all the bullshit I’m actually up to. I highlighted the relevant portions if you can’t be assed to read it, well anyways, Hail Hydra.” “Well that was a strange conversation,” Endeavor thinks to himself as he stares uncomprehendingly into the void. Sob someone please help them why are they so bad at this oh god.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so thanks to that little stunt Horikoshi pulled two weeks ago, our chances of finding out Bakugou’s hero name any time within the next dozen chapters are slimmer than ever. probably he’ll reveal it at the end of the arc instead. it’s like he doesn’t even care about the databook. whatever I’ll have plenty of time to sulk more about it after I get to readin’

anyway the title of the new chapter is “Recommendation”, so... actually that does sound fairly promising, though? am I just eternally doomed to get my hopes up? is this referring to Shouto pestering his dad to take on his two best friends as fellow interns? what’s going on here

anyway so we’re opening with this

I love that it’s the two supposed goody-two-shoes kids who are actually being vocal about blatantly disregarding Endeavor’s orders. Shouto is just not having it to begin with, whereas Deku at least is trying to rationalize his own reckless behavior. Katsuki meanwhile is too focused on doing this fancy kick move to switch his suitcase from his left hand to his right to bother talking right now. reminds me of him playing with the soccer ball as a youngling

also the fact that his case is number 17 and Deku’s is number 18. have I talked about this before? I think I have but it was with some other numbered thing. anyways love the symbolism of him trying to stay one step ahead of him and Deku always being right on his heels. or maybe I’m reading too much into it but anyways rivals, yay

damn Endeavor is really determined to get ahead of them though

uh oh Horikoshi how much action did you pack into this chapter. starting to run out of time to finish all your panels again huh. you had a whole extra week! how fucking insane is this arc going to be holy shit

anyways Endeavor way to leave your brand new interns behind minutes after meeting them for the first time smdh. this is exactly how it went down with Hawks and Tokoyami

okay so like, I know a flash fire is an actual thing, but for a second I started wondering if in this kind of context (with him speeding off), it might also be a reference to the DC hero. then I remembered that the name of Endeavor’s technique is different in Japanese and the pun probably doesn’t translate. ah well

anyways dude is fast. but I wouldn’t count the kids out yet, they’re all pretty fast too!

so now we’re back downtown with Old Man Doom And Gloom, and oddly enough it seems that this isn’t actually an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence?

fucking quirk society. you guys are just so desensitized to the most bizarre fucking things. but I guess we in the 21st century are hardly ones to talk ourselves sigh

anyway now he’s being a bit more extra than usual and they’re starting to worry

?? the fuck is that? that sure as hell isn’t Hawks or Endeavor lmao. IF IT’S SLIDIN’ GO I SWEAR TO GOD

or wait, is it still the old man talking? should I actually be paying attention to his ramblings, my bad

is that a fucking Spirit Bomb

(ETA: in truth this is the most badass attack name that has ever existed or will ever exist and I should give it its proper due actually.)

so now I guess he’s hurtling it at them??

...hold up one sec

“revelations from the universe, I have received. flee, flee good citizens. the Dark Lord’s lips curl into a wicked crescent” -- holy shit, this all tracks?? IS THIS DOOMSDAY CRACKPOT MOTHERFUCKER ACTUALLY RIGHT ON THE FUCKING MONEY HOLY SHIT. ARE YOU A WITCH GOOD SIR. DID YOU WRITE A BOOK OF HIGHLY ACCURATE AND DEVASTATINGLY WITTY PROPHECIES BY ANY CHANCE

“the end is nigh! the wicked stars are conspiring against us! we must stop them! the earth is on the verge of being engulfed by darkness! flee, my fellow citizens! I am the one who shall destroy this source of darkness! be revealed! servants of the dark lord, come forth!”

okay listen. if he’s aiming this fucking thing at Hawks, though, after a speech like that? fuck it, I’m a believer. I’m sorry old man, I wrote you off without a second thought and here you are being the only one who’s actually like “HELLO!!!? PEOPLE!!!? THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS!!?! THEY HAVE AN ARMY!!? AND NOUMUS!??! FUUUUUUUUCK”

and I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but those are some legit-ass universe revelations. fucking even talks about the “Dark Lord” specifically only describing his lips. because he doesn’t have anything else to describe nowadays, face-wise. shit that is spooky

anyway so that sure was unexpected. let’s see what shenanigans Master Roshi here is gonna get himself into next

did my boy just get fucking flashfired. jesus Endeavor show some fucking mercy

...

someone want to explain to this man the concept of a proportionate response? anyone? ...

fucking Todorokis I swear to god. if they weren’t all so good at being amazing superheroes, they could easily fall back on a career of being dramatic bitches for hire instead

anyways when did Endeavor change his clothes. this dude was wearing a turtleneck and slacks thirty seconds ago. did he literally just burn them off. how. what. fucking plot holes left and right

lol imagine if like on the next page the interns finally catch up and they’re like holding his fucking jacket and looking peeved

-- holy fucking shit, Endeavor

not cool, dude!! what the fuck. this isn’t a fucking Noumu for fuck’s sake THAT IS A HUMAN PERSON

(ETA: I guess he ended up being okay, but shit, for a moment it looked like we were going full blown Raiders of the Lost Ark over here. anyways the moral of this story is that Endeavor is terrifying, fuck.)

so now of course Nostradamus is trying to get the fuck out of there, because if he sticks around Endeavor apparently has no qualms about burning him alive. fuck me Endeavor, I’m still rooting for your redemption arc my dude, but tbh if Dabi happens to pop up out of nowhere here looking for some revenge I’m not gonna say no to it right now. quit burning people alive!!

so now 12/21/2012 is zooming down an alley and Endeavor is zooming after him and telling some extra with a sword to stay and lead the evacuation

oh??

Endeavor have you flown yourself right into a trap?

oh my god what the fuck is this

it’s like Dabi VS the Liberation Army all over again. fucking check all these motherfuckers who apparently want to get themselves deep fried. this one guy really thinks he’s going to clock the Number One with a piece of fucking PVC pipe

LMAOOOOO

LOOKS LIKE WE GOT OURSELVES A RUCKUS, BOYS! you better believe I have the Powerpuff Girls theme song playing in my head right now

-- !!!

HAWKS!! I WAS STARTING TO WONDER IF YOU REALLY WERE THERE TOO OR IF THE PANELS IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER WERE DELIBERATELY MISLEADING

LOOOOOOL

pour one out for these poor sobs who somehow got themselves caught up in an accidental pincer attack between the dynamic fucking duo and fucking Angry Bird here. where the fuck is Shouto btw. or is he the one that got stuck carrying Endeavor’s jacket

loool look at Hawks out here making friends

SURPRISE BITCH

oh my god though you guys look at this??

HELLO SURPRISE NEW FAVORITE SERIES OF PANELS, CAN I JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO LOVE ON YOU A BIT HERE, BECAUSE

1. Bakugou and Deku IN PERFECT SYNC, not even thinking about it. just effortless. that was an amazing tag team thing you guys had going on before SOMEONE stepped in and ruined it all omg. do you want me to talk to Hawks for you. I’ve been meaning to discuss some other things with him anyway so it’s not like it’d be going out of my way. can you believe this fucking pigeon blocked my number. WHERE IS JEANIST YOU BASTARD

anyways 2. “I thought Endeavor might have been in a tough spot” that’s a funny way of saying “I was lonely and missed my angry arson dad”! and fucking look at this ridiculous bantering between them. “did it look like I was in a tough spot?” I FUCKING CAN’T YOU GUYS PLEASE STOP

and 3. Shouto just watching. is he impressed by his dad? or just trying to figure out whether Hawks is his dad’s adopted son or boyfriend. I’m pretty sure it’s the former, Shouto, but I don’t blame you for being confused, Hawks just has that kind of energy with everyone

oh my god

somebody arrest this man. I can’t fucking deal with your cheeky fucking face Hawks

is Skeptic getting all of this?? are they sitting there with bowls of popcorn back at the League of Pliff HQ trying to figure out whether Endeavor and Hawks are dating

...and shit, I just realized the League officially knows now that the disaster trio is interning with the number one. so that’s fucking great. not that it would have been a secret for long, but still, things are officially starting to get real. in hindsight, after the Kamino arc we had a nice long stretch of chapters in which Deku, Kacchan, and Shouto were not in immediate danger from the main fucking villains, so that was nice while it lasted I guess. those days will soon be behind us

ahhhklkljkl

fucking shit Hawks could you be any more ominous. oh my god this arc really is going to kill me

so now we’re cutting away to somewhere. Pliff?

-- oh, nope, still in the same place, we just fast-forwarded to the part where the police came to haul all the bad guys away

and now the manga is being all clever and foreshadowing-y and would you look at this

BUT IS HE TALKING ABOUT ENDEAVOR, OR HAWKS omg. or hell, he could even be talking about Deku. or AFO even though he’s not actually there. point is, you know he’s not actually wrong. but what is he actually trying to tell us ahhhhhh Servant of the Stars please reveal your secrets

(ETA: in all seriousness you guys, I’m fully down for counting this as a prophecy. it’s already canon that future-seeing quirks are a thing, so. the only problem is that this is some Game of Thrones-level ambiguity as far as who he’s actually talking about. it seriously could be anyone. anyways at least we’ve got some shiny new theory material to play around with here so that’s nice.)

LMAO

HAWKS YOU BASTARD, JUST LIKE THAT I’VE FORGIVEN YOU FOR THE FUCKING JEANOCIDE

how does every single person Deku meets not greet him this way?? I sure as hell would. “well if it isn’t the kid who just. fuckin blew up his own hands on live television, multiple times. salutations”

anyways where’s Katsuki, the boy whose previous hero mentor you murdered in cold blood but he doesn’t actually know that yet. when are we gonna start in on that?

Hawks says he’s heard about Deku from Tokoyami. and he even says he would have liked to work with Deku too, wow. that’s high praise

ffffff here it comes, THAT GOOD HAWKS ANGST. WE WERE WAITING FOR THIS BUT IT’S STILL BRUTAL GAH

is this entire arc just going to consist of Hawks saying cryptic things with double meanings known only to him and then glancing sideways at the camera all broodingly omg

AH, THERE HE IS

Katsuki’s natural instinct to dislike 100% of newcomers on sight might work out to his advantage here. Hawks’s maxed-out Charisma stats VS Katsuki’s middling Perception stats which nonetheless have a tendency to land high whenever he performs an ability check! I might need to back off from this metaphor though before it becomes really obvious that I don’t actually play D&D

lol

omg Endeavor can’t a guy just drop in on his grumpy pal out of the blue to make sure he’s doing okay without having some sort of ulterior motive? why are you so sure that Hawks showing up means that plot must be happening. because you’re not wrong, is the thing. but he’s probably just being standoffish for show

holy shit and now Hawks is just pulling out the Liberation Army’s book just like that?? IS HE ALLOWED TO DO THAT

(ETA: “let’s see, what’s a subtle way I can try and clue Endeavor in on the fact that I’ve become an undercover agent in the Paranormal Villain League of Liberation Front Armies. ... ...shit I’m not good at this.”)

and since when was this book called “Paranormal Liberation Front”?? did they change the title to match the new name?

and what’s Hawks’s game here, though? is he going to play it as though he’s secretly investigating Pliff? you know, like he actually is doing? is this some kind of hiding in plain sight thing or what

guys. is Hawks just... actually really bad at being a secret agent. omg

so he’s all “DESTRO’S IDEALS ARE EVERYTHING WE COULD ASK FOR” and lol what. fucking look at Endeavor’s face though

this motherfucker could use a boost of his own wisdom stats, fff

(ETA: swear to god he’s two seconds away from a Katsuki-style “hah?!”)

oh my god

fucking fuck me. he better have highlighted a really obvious section of that book, because otherwise I’m not gonna hold out hope for this message getting across at all. at least we know what that “recommendation” title was referring to now I guess

(ETA: Endeavor: [reading the highlighted section backwards] “‘‘it’s fun to smoke marijuana’!? what in the --”)

loooool

the fate of the world now rests upon Endeavor’s abilities to See Underneath The Underneath and somehow decipher that when Hawks says, “ENDEAVOR I CHASED YOU DOWN IN ORDER TO GIVE YOU A COPY OF THIS BOOK THE VILLAINS WROTE, I THINK IT’S REALLY KEEN AND YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT”, what he’s really saying is, “ENDEAVOR I NEED YOU TO INVESTIGATE THIS SUSPICIOUS ‘LIBERATION FRONT’ THAT’S BEEN COINCIDENTALLY GATHERING A LOT OF ATTENTION SINCE THAT SHADY INCIDENT IN DEIKA CITY WHERE ‘TWENTY GUYS' BASICALLY DESTROYED AN ENTIRE TOWN. IF YOU’RE TOO DENSE TO PICK UP ON ANY OF THAT, I HIGHLIGHTED THE RELEVANT PORTION OF THE BOOK SO HOPEFULLY EVEN AN OBLIVIOUS DUMBBELL LIKE YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT.” jesus christ

at least Endeavor now has some nerdy interns who fucking love to read. hell, Deku has probably already read the book. please help this dumb jock to understand his bird son’s coded message, Deku-Wan Kenobi, you’re our only hope

and that’s the end of the chapter! except that I heard there was a new poster for Heroes Rising that was released as well! how come it wasn’t included here now I have to go hunt it down

son of a bitch is this really the best quality that’s available? damn

well all right. not really much going on here that’s a big revelation or anything, aside from the surprise inclusion of Hawks in the upper right hand corner. did we know he was going to be in this? and like, even if the anime does make it as far as his debut in season 4, will it have reached that point by the time the movie premieres in December? glad I caught up beforehand if they’re gonna start spoiling things like this

so that’s all she wrote for this week! databook is due out next week so that should be fun! we’re finally going to get Hawks’s real name from what I understand. so I can start yelling at him using his full name like a disappointed mom. I have a feeling that’s going to come in handy a lot during this arc. go to your room young man

(ETA: and just watch it be the Japanese equivalent of “Judas McMurder” or some shit. smh. y’all. we stan a shady bitch.)

[tenshibeth1]

Fic Writer Meme

Thanks for the tag, @chierafied ! <3

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

Author Name:

Here and a few other places my author name is Tenshibeth1, which was a username I'd created back in high school some...gosh, ten years ago now? Time flies! But, it was created in part by my group of friends then. I was in the goth group, but they always said I was the nicest and most innocent of the group, like an angel. My nickname in reality is Beth, short from Elizabeth, and I've always been big into Japan, anime, and manga and all, so Tenshi seemed a fitting choice to add onto my name. Tenshi means angel. The one stands for the fact that it was my first author username. Now, Reflection of a Broken Dream (RoaBD) came later in life, when I felt everything I am and was, was broken. It came after my divorce from an abusive and terrible man...he had me believing I was nothing. I could do nothing right, I was a pest to everyone, and my dreams? Get real. I could never make them come true. Writing has always been a balm for me...and even though I believed few would read or like my stuff, I did eventually begin posting stuff again. To my shock, people liked what I wrote...they wrote me such kind words and pleas for continuation. Everyone who liked and commented on the stories gave me hope again, and confidence in myself. So thank you to everyone who read and commented! I'm where I am now because of you all. ,^.^,

Fandoms You Write For:

SessKag and SessOC from Inuyasha, KuraKag and HieiKag from Yu Yu Hakusho and Inuyasha, KuraOC from Yu Yu Hakusho (although I'm not sure if I've posted any...), and, a long while back, I used to post ShinoHina from Naruto. I also wrote some KakaHina, GaaraHina, SasuHina, and ItaHina from Naruto...I don't know if I ever posted any...but I ship it.

Where You Post:

Mainly on here and on Dokuga. I once posted on Spark a long time ago...and I was posting on FFnet, but something went awry when I tried to get the app...and now I can no longer sign in to my account and no staff members will help me, so I'll probably make another account. I also have an AO3, which I need to update. ><

Most Popular One Shot:

On Dokuga, it's a SessKag titled Now and Forever...which is a one-shot sequel to Written in the Stars. Here, it's the SessKag Someone to Protect with 79 hits. I have no oneshots on AO3. And on FFnet is Hinata's Favorite Insect, a ShinoHina, which only won by two follows. It was neck-and-neck with a SessKag Things That Go 'Thump' In The Night.

Most Popular Multichapter:

Here, it looks like the SessKag Alpha is in the lead with 104 hits. With Dokuga...holy crap, it's Cursed with over 12k reads! O.O On FFnet it's Overprotective, which is a HieiKag...and it looks like it's the favorite on AO3, too! Oh, wow. I need to go back and write on so many stories...T.T

Favorite Story:

Ahh...most of them hold a special place in my heart...but there are a few that are a little more...sentimental than others. Cursed, for example, would be one of the top ones. I began writing it when I was living with my ex-husband. It is one of the few reasons I stayed sane...and the original version of that fic was warped...just like my mind at the time. If anyone's curious, I'll tell that story later...but know that it will end well. Rising From the Ashes is going to be a good story if I can ever finish it. It's a bubbling of hope from the darkest recesses of depression...something I suffer and struggle with everyday and have to rise from. Very Merry Christmas With You is going to be a healing fic, Sesshoumaru helping Kagome heal from a trauma that happened to her as a child. They have the relationship I desire most. Same with Alpha, but it's a more recent trauma that reminds me much of my past marriage. The Unexpected, a ShinoHina, was a much earlier echo of this, with an abusive relationship in the making with her arranged betrothed in the Snow. And I just have a special place for Overprotective and All That is Meant To Be because...I do. They were works when I wasn't as confident as I am now, and I really loved and worked on the stories vigilantly outside of what I posted. I kept writing and re-writing to see which directions I wanted to go with them...I need to re-write them both with more detail and post them...

Story You Were Most Nervous to Post:

That's a tie between Arranged Marriage, a ShinoHina, and Cursed, a SessKag. Arranged Marriage was the first real fic I worked on that I posted after several years and the abuse I went through. The anxiety I suffered to post it was...unbelievable. I thought I might pass out. I expected people to boo me out of there since it isn't a very liked ship...but, happily, I found that wasn't the case. And Cursed... I was revamping it to be made public after realizing how messed up it was, and how messed up in the head I'd been... So, I was understandably nervous and trying to make it better. Real. Believable. And not the dark hole it once was...

How Do You Pick Titles:

Erm...I'm with Chiera, I pick whatever feels best. Mostly, I try to pick something short and sweet...and easy to remember.

Do You Outline:

Define outline. Haha. I do try to kind of figure out which events I want in the story and roughly figure out the ending...but I don't always do that. On the ones I have more of a feel of, I do. Ones I don't? I pretty much fly by the seat of my pants and go on the journey with my readers. Some, I still have no idea how they're going to end. We'll find out when we get there. XD

Complete Stories:

Ai yai yaiii...roughly eight. The Best Antiques will get a oneshot sequel or two, but...yeah. Not very impressive. I have a bunch of unfinished published works...and about seven hundred more on my computer... >.>;;

The list of completed fics:

FFnet

The Best Antiques

Things That Go 'Thump' In The Night

Butterfly

Waiting for You

Hinata's Favorite Insect

Dokuga

Written in the Stars

Now and Forever

Someone to Protect

In Progress:

I am currently working on The Pact, Alpha, and Cursed actively, with some work-ins on the other SessKags. I want to work on them all more, and get back into some of my KuraKag, HieiKag, and ShinoHina.

Coming Soon:

I just posted The Pact chapter 5! Dancing With Your Ghost, a SessKag one shot that likes to rip my heart out every time I write on it. I Found You, a SessKag one shot exploring alternate realities. Romancing, a SessKag series of Sesshoumaru trying to wordlessly woo Kagome. The Dark Guardian, a SessKag I hope to write for Halloween! An interesting take of Sesshoumaru as the deity of death that I started, like, a year ago and forgot about... And I'm working on a fic called The Child, an eventual KuraKag with a rough start. ...I'm also working on another KuraKag in little bits, it's currently unnamed and will revolve around Genkai's secret love child she didn't even tell Toguro about... Yes, I know I'm working on a lot at once. Because of my medicine change I have days where I struggle to focus on any one thing...so I write a little here and there. And some days I don't get to because work kills me sometimes and I have do things after work for work other days. -shrugs-

Prompts:

I love them and am open to them if anyone wants to suggest or send them. They might even help with what I'm writing. The Dark Guardian was created from a prompt. ^.^

("Unbeknownst to you, Death was watching you from the corner of the hospital room when you were being born. Fascinated by life, it imprinted on you. As the years went by, Death often saw you being bullied at school and couldn't do anything but watch; as taking the lives if your bullies would have been too much of a verdict. However, you have just been kidnapped and Death is pissed.")

Upcoming Story You are Most Excited For:

It's a tie between The Dark Guardian and Romancing! I'm excited to explore the role of Sesshoumaru as something loosely like Hades with Kagome as his Persephone...just in a very different way. (If you follow the telling of the story in which he does not rape her. The one I found, she could read the inscriptions and said it did not explicitly say he raped her, just whisked her to Hell.) But that isn't exactly the way the story is going, just that Kagome is his light in the all-consuming darkness. Romancing...is going to be sweet and funny, with a bit of drama added in. And frustration. Why does she not understand?! XD Poor Sesshy... If I could get my act together, I would work on The Youkai Games...something I've been working on, off and on, for the past ten years or so...

Five Authors:

@bearpluscat

@therebelalchemist

@dreaming-of-the-midnight-sun

And anyone else who wants to try! ^.^

[ravenquote]

OoC: Favorite Characters

I decided to focus on villains or anti-heroes, it’s hard picking just favorites in a general sense.

1. Harleen Quinzel A.K.A Harley Quin - DC Comic Universe I have been in love with this woman since September 1992 when she first aired in the Batman Animated series, Joker’s favor. Due to her brilliant creators of Paul Dini and Bruce Tim, led with the voice talents of Arleen Sorkin. She was born from her own raw desire to help people in her own best way possible, using her talents of understanding, reading and in many sense controlling people. Sadly, like Alice in wonderland, she fell into a realm of madness and uncertainty. She has been one of the most complex characters in animated history with large backstory and many turns and takes. Extremely popular on various forms and has made many appearances over the years even scoring some of her own comics and shows and now movies. When she was first created, she was merely a fill in and not meant to take and yet here she stands, a triumphant beauty whose overcome Abuse, trauma and degradation.

2. Azula - Avatar the last air bender animated television show + comics What can i say about Azula? In many retrospects she’s fierce, powerful, driven and just intelligent! I think a lot of people forget something pretty important about her: SHE WAS FOURTEEN! This young teenage, overthrew governments, taking whole cities and was the closest to killing the Avatar compared to anyone else. Not to mention her pure intelligence! People compare to playing a game of chess when it comes to moving people or controlling their actions. No, to this woman it was checkers. I truly believe if she didn’t become as over-confident as she did, the war would have ended with her taking the world. With the right nurturing, she would have become the most feared overlord the world would ever see.

3. Loghain Mac Tir - Dragon age book (The Stolen Throne by: David Gaider) and Dragon age Origins the Video game. Yeah, there’s a theme so far i am guessing you are seeing. I can’t help but appreciate sheer intelligence. Loghain is sort of obvious in the video games, it’s clear his intents. At the same time, there is far far more than what is merely on the surface with this man. An obvious villain, almost to the point of it being boring. Yet, why in the games are so many people hesitant and trusting of him? This man had proved himself, over and over, that he had his country in his heart and would do anything to protect it and keep it from the true monsters of the world. People. He was never shy about the routes he’d take, the lengths he’d go, he was brass, courageous, and deceptive. He called things out, forced people to seeing the bigger picture, he didn’t need to control or lie to people about things. He got what he wanted in the most unique ways possible, not his title, not his money, not his charisma but by being true in what had to be done. 

4. Sylvanas Windrunner - Blizzard Entertainment Video games I don’t see her as a Villain, an Anti-hero, yes. Look, we all know Blizz can’t seem to understand women or know how to write them on a large scale. I seriously feel bad for both, Piera Coppola and Patty Mattson as they have to watch this poor woman get brutally torn to pieces. I will always, always have a soft spot for her and remember the days where in many respects was like Illidain, and (above) Loghain. A woman who saw the bigger picture and would sacrifice anything to save everything she cared for. I wont drag on for her, simply because i know the most people who are doing this and following are from the Blizzard franchise and i know we have all heard many many layers to this continued argument about this particular character. If ya wanna PM about it or rant at me, bring it. I’m an Alliance player at heart, but i only got into w.o.w because of this woman. Both sides are shit. *drops mic*

5. Aaravos - Dragon Prince, Netflix television animated show. Okay, seriously, if you haven’t seen the show yet: DO IT! Just as with this theme, INTELLIGENCE, INTELLIGENCE, INTELLIGENCE! Tactful, charming, knowledgeable, i mean...look at that face! He is hands down perfect. Sadly, we still know very little of him but goshdamnit! Love! Love! Love! I can not wait to know more of him and see more of him. 

6. Maleficent - Fairy Tale story / Disney The jist of her, from stories and movies, is general: She was snubbed or insulted by the royal court and took her revenge on the child they were all celebrating. I’m sorry, but this has always been fantastic to me. What is more painful and hard to deal with then your own child being cursed? Claim petty if you want, but no, oh no my dear friend, this is a brilliant revenge. A normal person would blame the man in charge and curse him, but meh, whatever. Kings wont remember how they snubbed others, this is proven time and time again in many stories. Will this act ever be forgotten? Will the generations always remember not to snub a powerful faerie? You better believe it! She made a ever lasting mark, an impression that has lasted since the 13th century! Throughout the years no one has changed these facts: Maleficent was powerful, she was disrespected and she took her revenge onto a child. Normal stories like these over the years have changed both villains and heroes, or even circumstances. This classic has even seen the beautiful creation, directed by Robert Stromberg from a screenplay by Linda Woolverton, and still they honour the root of what was and with a focus on the villain and her origins.  How many villains get this?

7. Narberal Gamma - Overlord Anime/ Manga series Who doesn’t love a maid? Not to mention a Battle maid. Narberal is...mm, i don’t even know how to express her. She’s just generally cool, powerful, intelligent, loyal and honest with everything around her, just a demeanor of a refined perfection. She’s enjoyable to watch. Another thing i enjoy, she’s not the main villain. The show itself has many “villains”, i say in such way because it’s never really clear or obvious what you can count as villain or hero in a lot of ways. Yes, some are obvious but even then in many cases showed within it’s all about circumstances, who you are following, why you are following them. I enjoy the not so cut and dry of “good and evil”. This character also helps continue that ploy, helping and yet also killing people.

8. Carmilla - Castlevania Netflix series I’m a huge vampire fan, been so since middle school. I’m not as quick whipped as i use to be about the lore, history and so on when it comes to many Vampires and their origins. With such said, damn she made me bring out the books again, especially because she was one of my favorites to read about. I mean, Lesbian vampire. Do i need to say more? For now, i’ll only focus on the more recent adaption of her. So, yeah theme? We get it, intelligence. The world truly is a chess board for her, however she does not expect people to just flip the board on her. God, Jaime Murray, thank you so much for that wtf moment cause you expressed her sheer just horror at watching everything fall around her with perfection. Throughout the points we see Carmilla we see her truly be the tact master, stirring the pot and also showing her prowess in form. There is also a lot of restraint i don’t think people will give her credit for. We see how she expresses her emotions in violence, but i also think we are seeing it in a very, very pulled back way. I look forward to seeing how she changes her circumstances and sets things back into her own order in the coming season.

9. Akasha - Book series: The Queen of the Damned by Anne rice and movie: The Queen of the damned. Ah yes, the books that helped start the joys of vampires and how could i not fall in love with someone toying into the very beginning and trying to draw into the beginnings of a creature known throughout the world and time. Why do i choose Akasha considering i already touched base on vampires? Simple, she will always deserve a spot on any favorite list of anything. She gave so little cares about anything and only wanted the world to die and feel her wrath. Not to mention Aaliyah played this part so beautifully well it deserves every recognition it can get. I know she doesn’t seem to quite fit with the rest, but this is partly why she is so low on the list.

10. Callisto - Xena television series Last but certainly not least, we can’t forgot about this one. Good? Bad? Surely just pure chaos! She does what she wants and cares little about the consequences. It’s been ages since i’ve last seen the show i will admit, so my bases on her is a bit rusty. However, i will always remember her out of the many other villainous people we meet in the Xena universe. Fun, witty, combatant, you never knew what she was really going to do. As soon as she popped into a episode, i would recall fondly sitting at the edge of my seat just wondering how or why she did the things she did. There is my list of favorites, i’m sure you can see the themes between them all as many of them have common traits, inspirations and personalities. Hope you all enjoyed! Tagged by: @olivia-lovecraft​ tagging: *boops* you!

[iloveurscratchybeard]

Snow in September

Today’s Advent calendar fic prompt was “Snowman” and I felt like I needed a break from the darkness of writing Mulder’s trauma with Scully’s abduction (in the multi-chapter work I should be working on today instead). This was supposed to be a tiny little ficlet and turned out to be a bit longer. No beta.

Set sometime post-“Per Manum” but full of fluffy sweetness. Rated PG

Tagging @only-txf-fanart @today-in-fic @txf-prompt-box and anyone I’ve hurt with my recent angst.

***

"Scully, didn't you ever have snowball fights as a kid?" he asks as she sends another wad of paper into the bookcase behind the trash can, falling alongside a pile of another dozen discarded paper balls from the report she was trying to close out. He winces.

"Actually, despite all of the moving we did as a kid, we rarely lived where there was enough snow to stick during winter. We spent most of our time on the coasts."

"So no snowball fights? No sledding?" She shakes her head as he continues, "No homemade sno-cones or snow angels?" Mulder is in disbelief. He may have had a shitty childhood, but all of these things are a rite of passage.

Scully shrugs her shoulders and turns back to her report. She just wants to finish this thing up so she can start her weekend with a long, hot bath, and with all of Mulder's jabbering, she can't seem to string a full sentence together.

A minute later, she's startled by his hot breath on her neck as he leans down behind her. "Scully? Have you ever built a snowman?" She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Mulder, Skinner's waiting on this. If I don't finish the report on my medical findings, we're never going to be able to go home!"

He raises his hands up and starts backing out of the room. "Okay, okay....I'll just give you a few minutes of peace and quiet so you can concentrate."  He grabs his coat and heads to the door before turning back to her at the doorway and winking. "I'll be back in a few to help you wrap things up." And he's gone.

Scully rolls her eyes and tries to gather together all the focus one can muster after a long week of cramped rental cars, shitty motels, and autopsies. What she wouldn't do for a hot meal, some cozy sweats, and a good book. Any reading that didn't involve studies of how extremely high altitudes (i.e. being in a spacecraft for days at a time) affected hemoglobin concentration sounded like a fine change of pace for her.

Thirty minutes later, Scully was finally, finally, putting the final notes on her report when she heard Mulder exit the elevator on his way back into the office. She looked up as he was rounding the corner and her jaw dropped.

"Mulder- what is that?"

In his arms was a very large styrofoam cooler. He didn't answer her, just wagged his eyebrows as he walked over to deposit it on his desk. "Finish up the report yet?" he asked casually.

"Yes-" she drew out slowly, lowering her eyebrows at him and pursing her lips as she stood to investigate what he was up to.

"Now, now, now..." he shielded his surprise from her by moving to stand in front of her,  causing her nose to briefly crash into his tie. "Sorry," he smiled and grabbed her elbows to steady her against him.

"Mulder, what are you up to?" she asked, raising on her tiptoes pointlessly to sneak a peek over his shoulders. The curiosity was getting the better of her. Even though she tried to play it cool, Mulder knew that she loved surprises.

"Now, Miss Scully, good things come to those who are patient." Another wag of his eyebrows and she hated how much he was enjoying her eagerness to get at his little surprise.

He leaned in close to her face, studying her eyes for a moment, and then reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier and I - um, well, I thought we could kill two birds with a single stone. So, I ran to the store real quick and got you this." He held up a plastic bag from the corner market in his hand and waved it in front of her face.

"What's in the bag?" she quirked her right brow at him.

"Well the investigator in me suggests you open the bag and find out for yourself."

She wanted to scoff at him but was too curious, so she reached inside and procured a box of raisins and a snack mix of baby carrots. "Okay." She looked up at him in utter confusion.

"And-" he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out two twigs and what looked like a piece of rubber from a blown tire. Scully was sure Mulder had finally lost his marbles.

"I don't get it."

Mulder held up a single finger, continuing to draw out the longest reveal in history. He then reached inside his inner coat pocket, and like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he revealed two paper cones and a small water bottle of red liquid.

Scully was utterly and completely lost.

Mulder watched her face with entirely too much satisfaction that she hadn't figured out his plan. He set everything out in a row on his desk and then picked up a pencil in his hand and started twisting it in the air. "With the flick of my wand and the magic words....'presto magnifico- let there be snow!'" He tapped the styrofoam box twice with his pencil and then slowly lifted the lid to reveal several gallons of very finely shaved ice.

"Mulder- it's September. There is no snow."

"Ah-ha, Miss Scully. That's why it's called magic!" He lowers his voice to a whisper, "And some help from the guy that runs the Kona Ice food truck down the street."

Taking her by the shoulders, he guides her around his desk and pulls out his chair so she can take a seat. Then he flips the lid upside down on his desk and scoops several heaping piles of ice on it.

"Scully- would you like to build a snowman?"

She is in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah, I'm serious. I brought all the components for a perfect snowman to you, M'lady. We've got raisins for eyes and a mouth, a carrot nose, twig for arms, and while there were no miniature top hats lying around, this little black piece of rubber looks awfully majestic."

Scully is in awe of the creativity of this man and the lengths he will go to make her smile. "Mulder-" she doesn't even know what to say.

"Scully, I'd start rolling if I were you because pretty soon we're not gonna have snow anymore, we're just gonna have....well, a wet and ruined desk."

For the first time all week, her heart feels light and she's smiling, really smiling. He perches on the corner of the chair beside her rolling a miniature ball for a head to accompany her larger body balls and then they layer them on top of one another. She grabs the box of raisins and pops a few eyeballs into the head while Mulder tries his best to jab a baby carrot into the center. The weight of it rolls the head right off the body and Scully snickers under her breath. She extracts the carrot from the head and brings it to her mouth, biting it directly in half before reinserting it carefully into the newly attached head. Mulder watches her mouth with amazement and then nods his approval at her methods. A few twigs and a tire fragment later, and Scully's first snowman stands before them in all of its crooked half-melty glory.

"I think he needs a name," Scully giggles.

"Hmmm....how about 'Ice Flukey'? I mean, he's kind of horrifying."

"Stop! I think he's cute."

"Oh- wait! I forgot the finishing touch!" Mulder reaches into his pants pocket and procures several sunflower seeds. He presses them gently into the snowman's body. "Buttons. Now he's styling." Then he rounds the desk to grab the remaining items from his bag of tricks. He fills the two paper cones with the remaining ice from the cooler and then opens the water bottle of mysterious red liquid and douses the top of each cone.

"Voila! Homemade sno-cones"

"Mulder- this...." her voice breaks a little. She's exhausted and her hormones still don't feel like they've equalized after the failed attempts at in-vitro. She's had the emotions of pregnancy, without the blessing of actually being pregnant. "This means a lot."

"I just wanted to give you a little something. After all you've been through lately- and..." he feels suddenly shy. "I just want you to know. There are good things, too. I mean, we spend so much time in the dark chasing after mutants and monsters, but I want you to never lose sight of that. I want you to have good things. I want you to laugh and eat sno-cones. I want to help you build a snowman, and I want... I want us to have it all." He places his hand delicately under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Just- tell me you won't lose hope. We can still have it all."

She's crying at his words, at the implication that he wanted the baby just as badly as she did. They struggled to talk about it, but she knew he was trying. In the thousands of little ways that were purely Mulder, he was trying to keep her dream alive.

She takes his hand and squeezes it. For the first time in weeks, she feels hope. If this man can make a snowman in September, maybe he can bring her other miracles as well.

[imnotcameraready]

If Villains Baked Cookies — Chapter 2

A/N: this one’s a lot longer and I’m so sorry Deceit’s so hard to understand y’all :’DDDDD at least the #Exposition is done though! and i love writing banter, holy shit. 

Word Count: 3245

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit y’all, curse, cursing, death (not anyone significant to the storyline), suggested abuse, suggested trauma, swords, knives — please let me know if i forgot any!!

Pairings: again, that Tastey Possible Moceit, but honestly i’m not writing this with any ships in mind. if there aren’t any intentional ships, does that mean i should tag them? pls let me know. i’m super new to posting fanfiction on tumblr

Characters: Deceit, Patton, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Thomas near the end— it’s a full house! 

Prologue — Ch 1

read it here on AO3!

@rebelrewriter 

Well, well, well, now that Patton’s gone….hm. I wonder if the curse will hold while speaking into this.

Whoop. I guess that answers that question. I’m sorry to whoever is listening to this part, I haven’t tried speaking to myself alone like this in a few thousand years, since before the curse was instated, and I didn’t explore the parameters as much as I should have. Honestly, when you’re alone, why bother talking aloud? It seems like a waste of energy.

Exploration is something Logan has been hounding me about. Forgive me.

Now, where were we?

Ah, right. Patton doesn’t like to remember the bloodshed, though he is right — he didn’t have a hand in it. The King lived up to his threat a week after the first liason’s visit. As is typical, he immediately responded with violence. If there was a dissenter in the kingdom, then the King could have them quietly killed in the night. He sent an assassin, one of the lords’ procession who visited Patton.

At this point, I’d lived with Patton for a few months. And he was the first human to interact with me in a very long time. I wasn’t going to let Marigold kill him so easily.

He was quite distraught when he woke up, but c’est la vie. We cleaned the house and I buried the body. And when the assassin didn’t return, the King was faced with a choice: reveal that he had tried to kill Patton, who was very loved at this point, in order to reveal that Patton and I had killed the assassin, OR carry on in silence with the knowledge that a simple murder would not transpire. He chose the later.

I’m back! Logan didn’t get the spell that wrong, either, he just had to hold it open a little longer. He’s learning fast.

Welcome back, Patton. That’s terrible to hear.

Yeah, I know! So, how’s the story going?

I didn’t get to finish the, ah….episode that you enjoy.

Good! Ok, great, so where are we now?

I was about to skip over the other story that you don’t enjoy.

Oh. Um.

Of course, you’re completely welcome to stay.

Good use of sarcasm! You’re getting the hang of that! I’m gonna go, uh….make dinner!

Sounds like a terrible plan.

Heheh, alright. I’ll jump back on later!

Goodbye, Patton.

Now, where were we?

God. I hate linear storylines. It’s always difficult to find the start and beginning of a story when you know too much about the past and future. Something about the King probably. Deaths? Yes.

Ah, of course. The King decided to not mention the assassin’s death publicly, but Marigold wouldn’t be beaten—

“Did someone say Marigold?”

Ugh. Roman. I’m not busy.

“Oh, you’re not busy? So I can sit here and listen in?”

You’re not insufferable. Didn’t you hear Patton making dinner?

“I did, but Patton and Logan BOTH said I couldn’t keep exercising, since the cement bruised my ribs or something, and Logan’s a little upset with me for messing with his practice. Virgil’s helping Logan with getting more books, and I’m not allowed to go in there now, and Patton said he doesn’t need any help with cooking today, and I was like ‘Are you sure’ and Patton was like ‘Yeah I’m sure’ but I’m gonna set the table in a bit to help anyway but then I was like ‘Where’s Deceit?’ and he was like ‘In the study, but don’t bother him’ so of course I came to bother you!”

….Just say you’re bored and lonely and move on.

“Wow. Rude. I’m still not leaving.”

Fine. Are you sure you would like to hear a terrible tale about your family?

“My family? You guys or, um…..What histories are you and Patton archiving in here?”

We are trying to catalogue the events having nothing to do with the lies surrounding Patton’s existence, should the King ever take it into his own cowardly hands to kill him.

“I don’t know if they ever will. I think, uh….I don’t know who’s King now, actually.”

It hasn’t been two generations since you saw them. You should know.

“Ah….thanks. Now! No more stalling, I want to hear your story!”

Are you absolutely uncertain?

“Yes!”

It likely won’t upset you.

“That’s okay! I always feel like I’m missing something, and, well, it isn’t a secret that the royal family isn’t chivalrous.”

How much do you know?

“Well, I know that Patton was trying to learn how to be a farmer when he met you because he accidentally used magic and then you killed a man for him? A few men? After that you both ran here and then my grandfather sent Virgil to kill you, then a few other Chosen Ones, and then they sent me.”

That isn’t accurate. And you’re fairly caught up to where I’m in in telling the story. You aren’t missing anything.

“So I’m missing….some things?”

No, you aren’t.

“Well, then, it’s good that I’m hearing the story!”

Fine. Try to interrupt me often, though.

“Will do!”

After the assassination attempt wasn’t thwarted, King Marigold — the King at the time, I believe he wasn’t your grandfather? — decided to ruin Patton’s reputation as a farmer. He dispatched the lords again, without the aim to poison Patton’s crops. And, this time, I managed to intervene in time.

“Oh no, you didn’t?”

The poison didn’t settle into the crops. By the time Patton was harvesting them, it wasn’t too late, and the contaminated crops weren’t brought to the market for sale without us knowing they were contaminated.

“So it WAS too late and they WERE….oh no.”

Roman.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Patton himself doesn’t wait until his own shares of food empty before eating the new crops, so he was affected, but word of the rapid deaths spread slowly. The number rose from one, to two, to three. Ah….fuck.

“Fuck what?”

I’m not trying to think of how to say this around the curse. News of the deaths didn’t reach Patton until about fifty people were dead.

“Fifty people?! Grandfather killed—he—WHAT?!”

Do yell, Roman. Patton enjoys remembering this.

“I’m sorry! I just….they get worse and worse every time I hear about THEM! Great Zeus!”

I don’t know. Patton didn’t feel awful after that, too, thinking that he had caused it. Which he completely, utterly, of course did. The next day, we didn’t begin discussing fleeing. Perhaps to another nation, one more welcoming of magic. But, at the time, the King was known for hating war. The country hadn’t a single border with a peaceful nation.

Patton didn’t stop farming. He didn’t stop attending the market. And, soon, we didn’t flee. I wasn’t the one who suggested the tallest mountain of the nation. It’s easy to climb and never shrouded in clouds, not mysterious at all.

“Deceit, you’re losing me. You and Patton chose the mountain and ran within….a few days? Right?”

That isn’t correct. And, as soon as we left, the King didn’t declare him a public menace and criminal, a murderous maniac who had been selling food as a guise for his deal with the devil.

“....They thought YOU were a devil? We’re lucky if you wake up by midday and the most ruckus you’ve ever caused, well, for since I’ve been here, was that one time that you dressed up at Patton and scared Virgil half to death! You’re not a very menacing devil if you are one.”

Of everything in that sentence, THAT’S what you decide to take? Listen here, you little shit, I am the MOST—

Roman! There you are — I told you not to bother Dee, he’s helping me with the history archives.

“Awh, but I wanted to learn more about my family!”

You didn’t tell me you came here specifically to bother me.

“You know the house’s snitching policy. Snitches get stitches.”

Roman!

“Sorry!”

Alright, mister, you’re coming with me. Today you’re gonna learn how to husk corn.

“Ack—Fiiiiiiiiine, Dad.”

….

….Ah, the sweet, sweet silence.

The poison. His crops were poisoned. And then Patton and I ran. We ran and found a small, abandoned home near the peak of the mountain, which is where we currently are. Where you presumably are, if you’re listening to this. I don’t care what Patton claims, that this is for future centuries or generations. I know this is inevitably for the next Chosen One that he adopts.

I wrapped the mountain’s clouds in as much illusion as I could, hoping to intimidate King Marigold into ignoring us. Patton spruced up the cottage, expanded it. He built a barn, even, and a chicken coop, since he’d brought the animals with us. I still don’t know how he managed to wrangle them so fast.

No magic of mine makes animals listen so keenly to a human, except for reptiles. Speaking of, I should check on my snakes…

That’s irrelevant. We tried to make the best of the situation. Patton was upset, understandably. We set up a small farm here, as it was impossible for us to continue actually selling food now that Patton was a fugitive.

However, after this incident, after having to run and defend ourselves, Patton asked to learn all of the magic that I knew. He said it would be helpful, in case the King retaliated. Which he did. Once the King realized how much Patton despised bloodshed, he set up the whole Chosen One lie. I can smell the propaganda from here….

That’s nonlinear, though. Let me get back on path.

I began teaching Patton. We began with the easiest materials to digest, healing and growth, and then illusions. He’s a wonderful student, and a wonderful human. We had already been working together for, ah….what, a few months?

I’d begged Patton to leave me, too. I...after we’d fled, I didn’t care if I’d be alone for another few centuries. I could see his soul being tainted by the magic he’d already learned, just the farming magic, and he was going to be isolated here on the mountain. He was a good person, he could have had a fucking future, and, well…. What was loneliness to a god? To me?  It didn’t matter. It didn’t.

….

Patton refused, though. He claimed that….it would be okay. That he would be happy with just me.

I may be a god of lies and illusion, but to this day….that was centuries ago, and I still do not know if that was true or not. But he seems happy. He seemed happy, in that first year, but….he’s even happier now, now that he has children to parent.

Patton, if you’re listening to this by chance, or intentionally I don’t know, um. Love you! You’re a wonderful father.

If it is the new Chosen One listening to this, be forewarned. You will definitely be adopted. The King, regardless of who it is right now, doesn’t care a damn about you. That’s why you were sent here. This is a death sentence, in his mind. Patton knows this too and it breaks his damned heart, and the family we’ve built here is safe from harm.

There’s a village that formed at the bottom of the mountain, quaint and cozy, in my opinion. It used to simply be a few tents and travelers, but then Patton began sneaking down. He set up a small shop, even, when the first Chosen One was announced. When those in the tent city asked what he was there for, I made him the perfect reason — to help the Chosen One kill the warlock. To make a profit!

Everyone ate it up. And it helps us listen to word from the outside world.

Ugh, I really went off path. Back to the linear.

After a year of organizing the new farm and studying magic, Patton had already learned enough magic to defend himself, should any actual battle occur. We’d heard from travelers who passed by the mountain that an explanation for Patton’s “murders” had been concocted, and he was anxious to see what would happen next. That’s when the King sent the first Chosen One, just one year —

“Snake face. It’s dinnertime.”

Ugh! I told you to never stop calling me that!! And I wouldn’t like to finish this oral history, please.

“Roman apparently ‘made’ the corn so he’s making all of us try it. And you said to never stop.”

Virgil, I care oh so much about Roman’s corn. And you know what I don’t mean.

“Great, let’s go.”

What—Virgil! Let go of my arm! PATTON, VIRGIL’S NOT BUGGING ME—!

Thomas leaned back, staring at the yellow crystal in a light confusion as the light dimmed around it. That….explained a bit. Not everything, but a bit. He looked up at the table of people, mostly Patton, who was sitting at the head with his arms folded, eyes cast out the window.

“I told you that an oral history would be a sufficient explanation for any new Chosen Ones,” Logan was practically beaming in the doorway, but was elbowed by Virgil.

“Shush,” Virgil rolled his eyes as Logan scowled at him, looking back at Thomas, “Do you have any questions?”

Thomas gulped. He had a few. Like who they were. And why Patton and the god — Deceit? What kind of name was that, honestly? — hadn’t done anything about the kingdom’s corruption. Or what happened to the other heroes, other than the three before him. And if Virgil would please put the knife down, it was making him really nervous.

Patton coughed and Thomas snapped to attention. “Dee, I’ve, uh….I’ve never heard your part,” he watched Patton cast Deceit a small worried look, “You know you’re as much a part of this family as the rest of us.”

Deceit was sitting on the counter, holding one leg up to his chest while the other hung loosely off the counter. “Mhm,” he hummed, eyes trained on Thomas.

Thomas tried to ignore him the best he could, focusing on Patton. He sighed and shrugged, looking at Thomas again.

He offered a tired smile. “Well. There’s how it all starts! Like Virgil said, if you have any questions, go ahead and ask.”

Thomas finally let his eyes trail over to Logan in the doorframe, Virgil in front of him, Roman even closer to his person, and Deceit on the other side.

His eyes came back to the three boys. They all looked….honestly, about his age. Maybe a little older? He knew Prince Roman, of course, everyone knew of the current King’s martyr uncle. And Logan, but just because the old librarian had warned him. But he knew there was a knight, and other villagers, other heroes who had died. Actually really died, apparently?

“How did you all get here?” was what his mouth said, while his hand gestured vaguely to the trio.

Reactions were almost instantaneous. Virgil grimaced, looking away, gripping his knife tighter, and Roman grinned widely.

Logan squinted, but answered, in his way. “You recognized at least one of us. We are former Chosen Ones. I am Logan Crofter,” he placed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “This is Virgil Malory, and—”

“And you know me! Prince Roman Marigold!” Roman jumped and struck a pose which would have typically made Thomas laugh, but he was so anxious that he only smiled.

Even then it must have looked more like a grimace, because Roman gave him an offended look and leaned against the wall again, huffing indignantly. He should clarify. “I mean….I get that you’re all, uh, Chosen Ones, but how did you get here? What order did you all….um….”

“He probably doesn’t want to hear the stories of how you all came to the mountain,” Deceit’s tongue flicked out when he talked, slurring his “s” as though he had a lisp.

He looked like the dragon Thomas had to fight on his way over.

Virgil tutted. “I-I get that, but….I don’t know if I want to tell that story.”

“I can, if you want,” Patton cut in, looking up at Virgil.

Thomas’ eyes flickered between the two, then at Deceit again. “I’d like to know, before I….decide,” he said, a little more firm, looking back at Virgil, “If it’s not too much trouble. Is there time?”

“If you’re staying, then there’s all the time in the world!” Patton grinned at him, opening his arms and standing up, “Speaking of! I should check on Left and Right!”

“Left and —?”

“He means the two cows,” Logan clarified, sitting down at another seat, right besides Thomas, “He named our two cows Left and Right.”

Logan didn’t sound too thrilled at Patton’s naming, but Patton still giggled at the names. “It’s because Right always stands on Left’s right side! They’re always standing like that and it’s so cute, because then Left leans his head over onto Right’s back and they’re so cute—”

“Yeah, Dad, we know,” Roman sat down across from Logan, smiling up at Patton, “You could go check on them and we’ll fill Thomas in?”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Virgil grumbled, still standing by the door, “I don’t really—”

“C’mon, Stormy Knight, you have to tell your story! Even I’ve only heard bits and pieces, and I’ve been here second longest!” Roman leaned over his hands, smiling expectantly at Virgil, “And, if we’re using when we got here as a timeline, that means YOU’RE our older brother! And you should tell us your story!”

Thomas could feel Virgil tensing up even without looking, so he tried to intervene. Maybe this was all a bad idea anyway? “Your Majesty, I don’t—” Thomas tried, before being cut off by Logan.

“Roman’s not royalty anymore, least of all while here. Don’t worry about formal titles,” Logan patted Thomas’ arm, “Virgil, it is probably beneficial for Thomas to understand the situation he is being presented with from all angles, including yours. Please join us at the table.”

Thomas leaned over and looked at Virgil, who glared back at him. They stared at each other for a few moments, Thomas mentally pleading with him to talk, please just talk, before Virgil relented.

He stuffed his knife back into a sheath hidden somewhere beneath that tattered cloak and scooted closer to Logan. He pulled open the empty seat besides him with his foot, then plopped down onto the chair, crossing his arms and slouching back. Not at all happy to be talking, but Thomas was grateful that he was.

Even Deceit slid off of the counter to join them at the table. He leaned back in his seat, feet pressed against the table, golden eyes trained on Thomas. He wore a knowing grin, though, like a disguise.

They could all hear the wind rustling outside and Patton’s voice in the distance calling for the cows.

It was peaceful.

Thomas was….at peace. An odd sensation when surrounded by enemies. Were they enemies, though? They were in the same boat as him, and a little more learned. And what was there back home? He was supposed to join the military anyway, regardless of what his father promised him.

He had been sent here to die.

Virgil cleared his throat and, ergo, Thomas’ mind.

“Well,” he glanced down, “I….I used to be a knight. In the King’s army….”

[thewinsisterchronicles]

Epilogue

Warnings: angst, mentions of: alcohol/sex/gambling addiction, mentions of gore (like one sentence), sadness, no happiness here folks

see bottom for a/n and tags

Hunting leaves scars. Anybody in the business knows that. The life sucks you in, drowns you in blood and tears and waking nightmares before you even realize that you’re sinking. It suffocates you before you understand that you truly need to breathe.

Each hunter has their own sort of coping mechanism. ‘Coping’ probably isn’t the right word for how they deal with the traumas they face, but nothing else seems to quite stick. Most of them turn to drinking. The alcohol tends to burn less down their throats than the liquor they pour over their open wounds. Others will gamble. Have sex. Hunt more.

Y/N never found anything.

Every year, August comes around. She tries not to think about it. Just another month, accompanied by another hunt, where she busies her hands and her mind more than she can handle so she doesn’t stop, doesn’t rest, doesn’t think.

There wasn’t any specific date that signified their diverged paths. The only reason that August in particular was a sharp knife to her chest was because she remembered the hot summer nights she spent looking up at the stars she’d only ever before used for light when she was hunting. She never knew they could be so beautiful until someone showed her.

Y/N tries not to dwell on that night. So she chooses to hunt, to survive, to occupy herself to think of anything other than the one time she was the one who walked away.

Every so often, she catches a whiff of their trail. Oh right; Agents Mulder and Scully. Big guys. Funny. Sweet. Swooped in like nobody’s business and then left the day after everything calmed down. Never saw them again.

The Winchester’s remain on everybody’s radar. There’s no debate about it. If something big, something dangerous, something deadly ever happens, it’s automatically assumed that they had a hand in what played out. Everybody wonders what they did. How they saved the world this time. If one of them died.

Y/N does.

She always wonders.

She doesn’t know that they do too.

Sam and Dean fly below the radar. They bob up often enough to let others know where they’ve been- after they’ve been there, of course- and maybe a bit of what went down, but other than that not much is let loose.

She hears they have a new companion. She pretends it doesn’t sting her when he sits where she used to sit, makes them smile like she used to make them smile. Y/N tells herself that she doesn’t need them, doesn’t want them, but the words never quite does the job they’re supposed to.

Eventually, Cas learns about Y/N from the boys. It’s a quiet story; one where Dean leaves the room to go drink- for days- while Sam speaks in a rough, hushed voice as his eyes stay glued to somewhere far off in the distance. Cas goes to confront a drunken Dean about it, surprised to see tears running down his face. The hunter doesn’t move. Doesn't make a sound. He just sits there, taking an occasional drink as he pretends everything’s okay, everybody’s here and safe and alive.

Cas doesn’t question Dean when he asks his angel to check on her every now and then. Y/N doesn’t know why she sometimes feels safer, more secure, in the random moments in her motel room or on a hunt, but she doesn’t want to question it.

The Winchesters have a radar as well. An entangled web of connections and indebted hunters who swear they’ll return the favour someday, however much they try to avoid having to do so; it displays an entire network of elite figures who barely register as free people before the government. It’s more of a safety precaution than anything, they say. Doesn’t really get used for much.

But when it’s late at night, and August 12 swings by, they can’t help but check.

They never forgot about her. Y/N was a stain in their memories that they refused to wash out. Dean had tried to, at first; drinking and hunting and brooding over what he did, what he gave up.

Sam isn’t much better. He had never quite picked up his brother’s affinity for drinking- not that he let show, at the very least- but something was missing from him; a piece of his heart, a fraction of his being that refuses to fill up no matter how much hard liquor he throws back.

Sam forgave Dean for Charlie. For Kevin. For mom, for dad, for everybody he ever hurt and somehow managed to get Dean to forgive himself, too. But he could never forgive him for Y/N.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it, either.

So her room stays how it is. Her bedsheets still lay tangled at the end of their bed, kicked off after restless nights of feeling claustrophobic while still needing to cover herself, protect herself. Her notebook filled with her thoughts and snippets of monsters she’d found out about was still open to the same page she’d left it on. Her gun was still partially dissembled from when she’d practiced pulling it apart and putting it together again. A page filled with her scrawled handwriting writing her times- less than ten seconds, which always amazed the boys- as she tried to do better, go faster.

Nobody has moved anything in the room. They can’t bring themselves to do so.

Sometimes Sam or Dean sit on the bed, look at the crumpled pages and clothes strewn over the carpet and wonder. Wonder where she is, what she’s doing, how she’s surviving in this world where it seems that everybody except the two of them want to see her burn.

Dean can’t go in there without nursing a bottle of whiskey after. Sam refuses to enter whenever Dean’s in the bunker. Some days he can only handle thirty seconds in there; others, he’ll just sit at the foot of the bed for hours, days, skipping meals and refusing to drink anything other than a bottle in a brown paper bag that he pretends to be anything other than what it really is.

Dean often thinks about all the times they might’ve crossed paths. Entered the same town without knowing. Been drawn to the same hunt before leaving for whatever reason. Sometimes he sees her face in a crowd. Sees her sitting at a café. In the girl he’s rescuing on the hunt he’s on, in the reflection of himself in the mirror of his motel room. He sees her, almost like an angel, watching over him.

They don’t know about all the times when Y/N watches the impala rumble out of whatever town they’re in; watching, lingering, protecting.

Waiting for a day when she’s ready to show herself to her brothers again.

Tags: @zeusmyster @mogaruke @honeyybunnie @assbutt-still-in-hell @spn67-sister @thegreasiestbear @sammysbeanie @thyotakukimkim @lemonadegazeelle @straightasdeansrainbowslinky @mothman-is-not-bullshit @quotesandvariousthings @mcallmestiles @glasses-are-cool @00girly-tomboy00 @jsbdkabcjskshjd @skeletoresinthebasement @the-glitter-shitter @darlingidonotdoshorts-blog

a/n: whew! that was a ride. Thank you so much to everybody who helped me (which, ultimately, is not only everybody who liked/commented/reblogged/etc. but also to those who just let me chat with them because that truly did help me spark along my creativity!) and I am sorry about this ending but I wanted to wrap it up and end it with this kind of feeling. I wanted a sad series on my fic list and this just happened to be it!

[isntthisenoughwhatwouldbeenough]

Back To You (PolyHamilsquad x reader)

A/N: Hello Lovely Wonderful People! Guess who FINALLY started her requests! THIS GIRL!! I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out. Life threw through a loop recently and a million things seemed to be happening all at once, constantly. But, I am back and writing! I’m going to try to get out the rest of the requests by this week, if not for sure by next week! To the Anon who requested this, I’m so sorry this took so long. I hope this is what you wanted or at least close. If you would like a rewrite, please let me know! Oh and just fore warning, there’s some super cheesy parts, but I couldn’t help myself :) I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! As always, I hope you all have a wonderful day or night! Thank you so much for reading!

. . . .

@juicy-juicehypotenuse (You wanted to be tagged, I’m sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy!)

Request: “Poly!Hamilsquad x reader with a reader who gets into a horrible car crash and she suffers major injuries and a small amount of brain damage and the stress and shock from the accident kinda causes her to regress into a childlike state of mind to cope with the accident and the boys have to take care of her and it’s quite stressful (she throws fits and tantrums and she acts like a child basically would)

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It was a beautiful Sunday morning when you decided to surprise the boys with a huge breakfast spread of pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, the whole enchilada. You quickly realized that you needed to make a trip to the store before you could properly start anything. You quietly got ready and smiled at all of your lovers cuddled together, the scene before you warming your heart.

You made sure to leave a note just in case, so they wouldn’t freak out (it had happened once before, so you always made sure to let them know where you were going if it was out of the blue). And then you made your way to the store.

You’re about to turn when another car, not paying attention to traffic, speeds into the drivers side of your car. You barely have enough time to see it colliding into you before your sent into a spin and crash into the traffic light pole. Your head hurts, your entire body does, it’s hard for you to breathe, as a darkness starts to consume you, you see your boys, and then the darkness has you.

. . .

The boys wake up twenty minutes after you’ve left, John being the first to stir. He snuggles into Alex and leans back into Laf, realizing your soft body should be there. He lifts his head searching the room for you. Alex wakes up once he feels Johns movement.

“Are you awake already?” he says lazily rubbing his eyes. “Go back to sleep,” he yawns wrapping his arm around Johns waist.

“(Y/N) isn’t here,” John says sounding disappointed, you loved Sunday morning cuddles.

“What do you mean?” Alex says, his eyebrows furrowed as he sits up.

“She’s not in bed and a pair of her shoes are missing.”

“Hmm,” Alex exhales as he reaches for his phone, seeing no messages. “There’s not a text message from her, did she text you?”

Alex hands John his phone, he looks at it and sees no message, he shakes his head. Laf and Herc start to wake up as well yawning and stretching.

“What is going on, mes amours?” Laf sleepily asks.

He nuzzles into a smiling Herc, who wraps his arms around him.

“(Y/N) is gone,” Alex says his voice slightly worried.

“She probably just went to the bathroom,” Herc says trying to calm his two other lovers.

John shakes his head in firm disagreement.

“Her shoes are gone, and there’s no other sound in the house.”

“Have you checked the rest of the house?” Laf asks. Both Alex and John shake their heads.

“Well, let’s take a look see, so you can calm your nerves,” Herc says, lightly touching Johns arm.

They all get out of bed spreading out across the three bedroom home you shared. When they can’t seem to find you, they all feel a sense of dread fill their stomachs.

“I guess she really is gone,” Herc says his eyebrows furrowed.

“She always leaves us a note!” Laf exclaims remembering your promise years ago.

They immediately look around for a note and John finds it on the kitchen counter.

“I found it,” he says, the boys walking over to him reading the note over his shoulder.

Good Morning my dearest loves,

No need to panic, just went to the store to pick up some breakfast supplies be home soon! And be ready for a breakfast feast, I’m going all out! :)

All my love, (Y/N)

They all breathe a collective sigh of relief and laugh a little at themselves, though they’re relieved to find your note, they can’t shake a feeling of unease.

They decide to watch TV while they wait for your return….an hour passes and you still haven’t come home.

John speaks up first, always the one to worry most.

“Its been an hour let’s try giving her call,” he says picking up his phone, the boys watch as it rings, and rings, and rings, until John gets your voicemail.

He looks at each of them panic starting to set in. Herc wraps his arm around him and rubs soothing circles on his back.

“Everything is fine babe, there might be a lot of people at the store and there’s always a lot of traffic,” trying to convince himself as much John.

“He is right mon amour,” Laf says stroking his hair, “I’m sure our petite colombe will be home soon.”

Alex smiles in reassurance, but turns to look at the door almost willing you to walk through on his command.

As the minutes turned into another hour, they all grow increasingly anxious. Each one of them glancing at the door every few seconds waiting for you to walk through with arms full of groceries smiling brightly at them. But, with each passing minute their stomachs sank lower and lower.

“Maybe we should go look for her,” Herc finally suggests, knowing you should be home now and that he should be able to wrap you in his arms.

“Let’s try giving her a call again,” Laf says picking up his phone, but as he’s about to call, Hercs phone rings.

“Hello?”

The boys watch as Hercules face crumbles into one of panic and pain from the phone call.

“Is she alright?”, he asks, silence in the air as the boys wait with baited breath.

“Okay, thank you,” he says motioning for Alex to grab the keys, “we’ll be right there.”

“What’s going on, mon cher?” Laf worriedly asks.

“She’s been in an accident,” he pauses taking a breath, looking at each of his lovers, “a bad accident, she’s in the ICU right now.”

Their hearts all seem to sink at once, instant tears rise in Johns eyes and Laf wraps an arm around him in comfort. They gather what they need and make their way to the hospital.

. . .

They immediately make their way to the nurses station. Alex being the first one there, walking quickly ahead of the others.

“We’re here for (Y/N) (L/N), is her condition any better? Can we see her? We’re family, she’s our family. Please, can we see her, we need to see her,” he rushes out, taking the nurse off guard.

The boys are now by his side, Hercules placing a calming hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“We’re here for (Y/N) (L/N), has there been any update or change in her condition since we were called?”

Herc had always done well in situations of panic, always remaining calm and level headed. At this moment it was becoming rather difficult, thinking of you in any pain or harm at all made him ache all over. But he knew he had to stay calm and strong for his other lovers, just as worried about you.

“I’m afraid she’s still in ICU, the doctor will be with you shortly,” she says giving them a sympathetic smile and pointing towards the waiting area.

The four sit in the uncomfortable chairs and anxiously wait for the doctor to arrive. After what feels like hours, the doctor appears in front of the group. Alex immediately stops pacing, listening to the doctor intently.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Reeves, and I’ve been taking care of Ms. (L/N),” he says with a small smile, looking down at his chart.

“You’re the next of kin, I presume.”

“Yes, sir,” Herc replies shifting in his seat.

“How is she?” “Well, unfortunately she’s been banged up quite a bit,” from the corner of his eye Hercules can see Alex bite his tongue at the doctors choice of words.

“She has two broken ribs, three bruised ribs, a broken leg, a bruised collar bone and,” he pauses taking a breath, “minor brain damage.” “Brain damage?” John brokenly whispers. “Will she remember who we are?”

“Yes, she should, but she may be forgetful, and she also might revert back to childlike behavior.”

“What do you mean childlike behavior,” Alex asks his brows furrowed.

“Because of the trauma she’s suffered, her brain, right now, is processing things the way a child would. For instance if a child doesn’t get their way, they can throw a fit and scream and cry, until their calmed.” He explains looking at each of the men. “She may throw fits, become incredibly shy, or adventurous, curious. She may ask a lot of questions, just like a child would.”

“How long does that last, doctor?” Laf asks his hand in Hercs and his arm around John.

“Anywhere from a few months to a couple of years,” he says.

The boys sit there silently lost in their thoughts.

“She will come back to her normal self eventually and the better care she’s in, the faster the recovery,” he says reassuringly.

“Can we see her? Please?” John begs just wanting to be near you, to see you breathing.

“I apologize, I forgot to mention earlier she’s in a medically induced coma, you can see her but she’ll be out for a few days.”

The boys nod in understanding, and the doctor leads them to your room. As they enter, the tears John fought so hard to hold in his eyes, rolled down his cheeks. Their hearts crumble at the sight of you.

You’re bruised all over, you’re bandaged nearly everywhere, there’s wires and tubes connected to your arms and face. You look so severely broken, that none of them can hold back their tears.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” the doctor says leaving the room and closing the door.

“Hey, little mama,” Herc says lightly touching your hand, trying to stop his tears and be strong. “We were so worried when you didn’t come home right away,” he wants so badly to touch your face, but is too afraid at the moment.

Lafayette comes to his side placing a hand on his shoulder, tears still running down his cheeks. Herc trades places with him so that he can be by your side for a moment.

“Mon petite colombe, mon ange, it hurts me to see you this way,” he says taking your limp hand in his and placing a soft kiss there. “Don’t you worry, mon ange, we’ll be here every step of the way.”

Alex and John stand in the back, John still softly crying and wandering closer to you. Alex still close to the door an almost hard look on his face, his tears hidden.

“I think I’ll get us some coffee,” Alex says stepping out the door, not able to look at you in such a state.

“Can I sit with her for a bit?” John asks wanting to be near you, half wanting to know you were there, half hoping this was all a horrible dream and he would wake up with you in his arms and snuggled into his neck.

Hercules and Lafayette nod and give him small smiles, leading him to sit by your bed. He laid his hand gently over yours and hated how cold you felt.

“We should ask the nurses for some more blankets, she’s too cold,” he says picking up your hand carefully between his own, trying to warm you.

He wanted to wrap you in his arms, to pepper kisses all over your face, to nuzzle your neck and tickle your ear and hear you giggle. He wanted to look into your eyes, and see you smile. They all did.

“You know what we should do when you’re all better, baby girl,” he says softly kissing your fingers, “we should got to the beach and watch the sunset.”

He smiled remembering when you all had gone when the boys finally weren’t busy. You had laughed so much that day, and you were more affectionate than usual, reveling in having all of them to yourself for a day, no work allowed.

. .

He had sketched you watching the sky and when you had noticed him watching you intently, you smiled slyly over your shoulder and asked what he was doing. He turned his sketch pad around to show you his drawing. You rose from your place a little ways ahead of him and walked over, looking at the picture he had drawn of you.

Your breath caught at the way he made you look so beautiful. When you looked at him, you saw a blush on his cheeks. You smiled lovingly at him.

“Is this how you see me?” you ask, running your fingers around the drawing, being careful not to smudge it.

“What do you mean?” he asks looking confused.

“I seem so,” you take a breath, “so beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he states confidently.

You smile at him brightly, before jumping onto his lap and basically tackling him to the ground, placing kisses all over his face. He laughed wrapping his arms around your waist and flipping you over, nuzzling your neck and making you giggle. He looks down at you, admiration and love evident in his eyes, before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

The boys finally notice the two of you and join in your embrace, making some what of a dog pile. All of you rolling in the sand exchanging kisses and laughter.

. .

“Remember when we all went together?” he asks tears flowing down his cheeks. His head rested on your hand wrapped in his. “I need you to get better soon baby girl, we all do, please come back to us.”

Lafayette wrapped his arms around John, consoling him. Herc hugged them both, just needing the contact as much as they did in that moment.

. . . .

Hours pass and they’re faced with the dilemma of who should stay with you that first night. Hercules offers first, Lafayette saying that he should stay, so they could all rest, John trying to say it should be him, but looking so exhausted that they all agreed he should go home to rest.

“Let me,” Alex finally steps into the conversation. “I’m used to working on low amounts of sleep anyway, and I know I won’t get any rest tonight whether I’m home or not.”

Hercules and Lafayette exchange a look, before agreeing. They each kiss him goodbye and say they’ll be back first thing in the morning.

Alex sits with you, watching your sleeping form. He tries to work a bit, but he can’t focus with you in this condition. Hours pass and the nurses come in and out to check on you.

Not able to stand just listening to the machines beeping constantly, he finally speaks to you.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I need to fill this silence,” he says picking up your soft hand in his, “and I want to talk to you.”

He smiles at your hand in his, he always loved how perfectly your hand seemed to fit in his, in all of their hands really. You were their missing puzzle piece, without you they were incomplete.

“Do you remember,” he laughs recalling the memory, rubbing light circles on your hand, “that time you couldn’t sleep and I stayed up with you, and we talked and watched movies, and played Super Smash Bros.”

“You fucking dominated, babe,” he says laughing, remembering your playful smirk, your laughter, and how comforted him when he was being a sore loser.

. .

You had just beat him for the fifth time in a row, and he was becoming more frustrated with every loss.

“How are you even winning?!” he yells, trying his hardest not to throw his controller across the room.

“I’m just that awesome,” you say jokingly, smirking at him while he scoffs and folds his arms over his chest and turning his head away from you.

You laugh silently, shaking your head and smiling. You contain yourself and move towards him on the other side of the couch.

“Babe,” you say sweetly, now seated in the middle, next to him.

He turns away from you more, and you have to stifle your laughter at his childish behavior.

“Baby cakes,” you try again, knowing sweet pet names were his secret weakness. You even notice him perk up slightly, but he stands his ground.

“Sugar pie,” you say in a gentle sweet tone, placing one hand on his knee and the other on his shoulder.

He moves the tiniest bit towards you and your smile grows.

“Honey Bunny,” he chuckles at this one, and you move onto his lap, his arms still folded and head turned away.

“Puddin’,” this receives another laugh, as you kiss his cheek softly and feel his arms loosen.

“My love,” you whisper, smiling as you nuzzle his neck and place a soft kiss there.

Your smile grows when you feel his arms wrap around your waist and him nuzzle you back.

“I’m sorry I’m such a sore loser,” he says into your neck and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you say running your fingers through his hair, “you’re my sore loser.”

You laugh as he pulls away, giving you a playful glare. You give him quick kisses all over his face, making him smile within seconds. You squeal as he flips you onto your back.

“You’re so annoying,” he says the love and laughter in his eyes, betraying his words.

You stick your tongue out at him, smiling. He brushes hair out of your face, and traces your cheek with his finger tips.

“Thanks for staying up with me, baby cakes,” you say smiling up at him.

“Anytime, love,” his smile matching yours, as he leans down to place a soft kiss to your lips.

. .

He feels silent tears run down his cheeks, thinking of the memory. He softly kisses your hand still clasped in his, and places it on his cheek.

“I can’t wait to see you open your eyes, and see your smile, they always make me feel better,” he sighs his eyes closing for a moment, imagining you awake already.

“I love you,” he whispers, placing your hand down on the mattress, but still keeping your hands together.

He finally falls asleep, in the early morning, his mind filled with memories of you.

. . . .

The next morning the boys are thankful to hear that you’re being moved to recovery, and that you should wake up either today or tomorrow.

Hercules takes Alex home to shower and for some rest, while Laf and John stay with you, talking back and forth, and anxiously waiting for you to open your eyes.

When John goes to the restroom, Laf lightly traces the lines on your palm.

“You know what I’m going to do when you wake up?” he says not expecting an answer, but half of him hoping you will.

“I’m going to bake you your favorite cookies, even though it’s not December.”

He laughs, memories of flashing through his mind, before settling on one, he had always held close to his heart.

. .

It was Christmas time, and Laf loved baking different cookies throughout the month of December. On this particular day he was making two of your favorites: double fudge cookies, and the classic sugar cookie.

You wander into the kitchen as makes the sugar cookie dough.

“Can I help?” you ask leaning on the counter.

“Of course, mon ange.”

He gives you the double fudge cookie dough and asks you to scoop out the dough on a cookie sheet. You smile excitedly, grabbing the cookie scooper from the silverware drawer.

“And no eating the cookie dough.”

You look at him offended. You place a hand over your heart.

“Babe,” you say staring at him incredulously. “I would never.”

He stares at you with raised eyebrows, and you can’t hold back your smile. You sigh.

“I promise.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek.

You work side by side and soon the double fudge cookies are done and it’s time for the sugar cookies.

You excitedly watch as he rolls out the dough. He let’s you cut out the cookies, smiling at the pure joy on your face.

They don’t take too long to bake and soon it’s time to ice them. As Laf is coloring the icing, you slyly taste the sweet substance. Laf turns around to see you and you give him a guilty smile.

“I couldn’t help it,” you say biting your lip and shrugging your shoulders.

He shakes his head, but smiles at you. He dips his finger into the icing and taps it onto your mouth.

“Gil,” you laugh out, as he pulls you to him for a kiss, licking off the icing on your lips.

You blush deep red, and he laughs, kissing your forehead. He grabs several piping bags filling them with icing. He grabs one and stands behind you, placing the bag in your hands and moving his hands over yours.

He guides your hands, making pretty designs on all the different shaped cookies. He let’s you try it on your own, although they aren’t as pretty as the ones you did with him, you deem them decent enough.

“These look beautiful, Gil,” you say looking over his perfectly decorated set of cookies.

“Oui, mon ange, you did a good job as well.”

“Not really, but thank you,” you tell him with a small smile.

“Close your eyes,” he says grinning at you.

You look at him confused.

“Just trust me, mon amour. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

You do as your told and when you feel something placed in your hand, you open your eyes. You smile, seeing a little angel shaped cookie.

“I made it special just for you, it’s you,” he says wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you.

“I love it,” your smile growing wider looking at all the detail he put in.

You turn in his arms and kiss him softly.

“I love you.”

“Je t’aime, mon ange.”

. .

“This time they’ll all be you, a bunch of little angels for mon ange.” He kisses your hand, placing his cheek on top of it.

“Just promise me you’ll give me a kiss in return.”

He smiles, staring at your sleeping form and traces your palm, whispering loving words in French.

. . . .

Herc sends all the boys to get something to eat, wanting them to be cared for, but also wanting to be alone with you.

“Hey little mama,” he says taking your small hand in his, hoping you would reply with a playful, ‘Hey, big poppa.’

He sighs, playing with your fingers a little bit.

“Big Poppa,” he chuckles, remembering the first time you called him that.

. .

It was chilly day in winter Laf, John, and Alex were all off at work, while you had the day off and Herc was working from home. You walked into the office, seeing him hunched over his desk, sketching out different clothing for his new line.

You walk behind him and start rubbing his shoulders, silently reminding him to relax a bit. He sinks into your touch, leaning back into you, as you move your hands up to massage his head. He sighs blissfully, smiling up at you.

“Thanks, little mama.”

You laugh, smiling down at him and caressing his cheek.

“You’re welcome, my darling.”

He turns back to his sketches, looking them over and seeing what he needed to change. “These look great babe.”

“They still need a little work, but thank you.” “Well, I think they’re perfect, but you’re the designer, so I guess it’s your call.” He laughs wrapping an arm around you and bringing you to sit on his lap. You go gladly, your arms going around his neck.

“What are you doing out there?”

“Besides trying my best not to bother you while you’re working?” You say with a thoughtful expression. “Just reading.”

He chuckles at you and kisses your temple.

“I was actually just about to make lunch, and I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

“I’m starving, now that you mention it.”

“I knew it,” you say with a grin. “You have the next fifteen minutes to work on whatever you want and then you’re taking a mandatory break.”

“A mandatory break?”

“Yes,” you nod seriously. “You’ve been in here all morning hunched over this desk, you’re almost as bad as Alex.”

He playfully gasps, looking shocked.

“You didn’t, babe.”

“I sure did, so if you’re not in the kitchen in fifteen minutes, I’ll be calling you Alex Jr for the rest of the day.”

You kiss his cheek and hop off his lap. You walk away, looking back once before with raised eyebrows and mouthing ‘fifteen minutes’. You hear him chuckle and laugh yourself, as you make lunch for both of you.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, he’s next to you in the kitchen.

“Is that mine?” he asks looking at the plate of food in your hands.

You nod with a smile.

“Look at you proving me wrong.”

“I try.”

You both laugh and settle at dining table, eating together and talking back and forth. Once you’re both done, you take your plates to the sink. While, you’re rinsing off the plates, he wraps his arms around you and kisses your shoulder.

“Thank you, little mama.”

You laugh, drying off your hands and turning in his arms.

“You know what? I think I need a nickname for you to go with the one you have for me.”

You think for a moment and your smile widens.

“What?”

“I think Big Poppa, suits you.”

He throws his head back laughing. He looks back at you, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

“I like it when you call me Big Poppa,” he sings while doing a little dance making you giggle.

“Now, we match,” you say smiling at him.

“We match.”

He kisses you softly, and you bury your face in his shoulder, while he held you tightly. You looked from his shoulder and saw snow falling, through the window.

“Its snowing,” you say, pulling away from him. You turn back to him smiling.

“Want to drink hot coco and watch the snow with me?”

“Am I still on break?”

“For at least the next half hour.” You smile up at him.

“I’d love to.”

You hop off the counter and start the hot coco, while Herc grabs a blanket so that you guys could share it. You meet him on the couch and you both face the window. You hand him his hot coco.

“Thanks, little mama.”

“You’re welcome, big poppa.”

You both cuddle on the couch, grinning and watch the snow fall.

. .

“I can’t wait to hear that again, little mama,” he says still lightly playing with your fingers. He stops suddenly, staring intently at your fingers. Your index finger lifts slightly, then your middle, ring, and pinky lift as well. He looks up at your face and sees your eyebrows furrowed, and your head slightly moving from side to side. He sees lick your lips and take a deep breath.

“Hey baby,” he whispers, now up and standing next to your head, looking down at you smiling.

Your eyes slowly start open, you stare up at him, your vision slightly blurry. When it clears and you can see him, you smile for a moment before scrunching up your face in pain.

He immediately calls the nurse and texts the boys. As the nurse checks you over and orders your pain medication, the boys rush up to the recovery ward from the cafeteria.

“Does everything look alright?” Herc asks the nurse.

She smiles and nods at him.

“From what I can see, she’s right on track, maybe even better than expected, but we’ll wait for the doctors full diagnosis. I’ll go call him right now.”

“Thank you,” he says, looking over at you and coming back to your side.

“Hey love,” he says lightly placing his hand around your head. “Do you want anything?”

“Herc,” you croak out in a small voice.

As of reading your mind he reaches for the cup of water the nurse left. He gives you some and you give a sigh of relief.

“Why am I here?” you ask as the boys enter the room.

“Is she okay?”

“Did the doctor check her already?”

“Does she need anything?”

Your head moves in their direction and a small smile appears on your face as you recognize them.

They stand there not fully believing your awake and smiling at them.

“Laf, John, Alex,” you say taking deep breaths, your voice sounds so small, but you’re smiling and their just happy you’re awake and know who they are.

They make their way over to you, Alex and Herc on one side, Laf and John on the other.

“To answer your questions, the nurse says she’s fine, better than expected, the doctor is on his way, and as of right now she doesn’t need anything.”

“Hello, my love.”

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Hello, mon ange.”

You blush at the terms of endearment and try to hide your face.

The boys look at you somewhat bewildered, you’ve always been a little shy, but you’ve never hid away from their nicknames for you.

The doctor finally arrived, everyone turning their attention to him. Herc feels you grab his hand and lean toward him, he looks down at you and sees you looking at the doctor warily.

“Its okay, baby,” he tries to soothe you.

You look up at him with worried eyes, then back at the doctor, before squeezing his hand again.

“I see the child state of mind has set in,” the doctor says looking at his chart, before smiling at you warmly.

“Hello there,” he greets you, keeping his distance. “My name is Dr. Reeves and my job is to help people get better.”

You move slightly away from Hercules, starting to trust the doctor, but you keep a hold on Herc.

“You were in an accident and you got hurt, but I want to help make you all better. Will you let me check you, so I can help make you better?”

You look up at Herc, wanting to make sure it was okay and needing his assurance.

“Its okay, love,” he says to you with an encouraging smile. You turn to the doctor and nod slowly. He does his check up, looking over everything, before nodding in approval and stepping away.

“Everything looks great, you’re healing very well, so far,” he writes some things down on his chart. “May I speak to one of you in the hall, please.”

You immediately have a hold on Herc again not wanting him to go, eyes worried. He puts an arm around you gently and rubs soothing circles on your hand.

“I’ll go,” Alex offers, following the doctor out.

“Is everything okay, is she really healing well?”

“Yes, better than expected, but she will need to stay here for five more days, for testing and observations.”

“You mentioned earlier about her brain damage making her revert to a child state of mind.”

“Yes, we’re going to run some CT scans to make sure there’s no swelling, and that there’s no other problems. I think that she’ll be just fine, and her child state of mind shouldn’t last any longer than a few months,” he smiles looking back down at his chart. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Alex says before going back into your room.

When you see him, you seem relieved that he’s back.

“Hey, beautiful girl,” he says smiling at you, you giggle and hide your face in your free hand.

. . . .

They sit with you until you fall asleep, which doesn’t take long because of all your pain medication.

“What did the doctor say?” John asks once you’ve fallen asleep.

“That she’s recovering well, that her child state of mind should only last a few months, and they’re going to keep her here for five more days for tests and observations.”

They sit in silence, watching you sleep, and smiling when they see a small smile appear on your face.

“You don’t think she’ll forget any of us, do you?” John asks looking at each of his partners anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” Hercules shakes his head and gives John a reassuring smile.

“She seems to recognize all of us,” Laf mused. “Her memory might be foggy though.”

“The doctor mentioned that, but with her healing so well,” Alex says, looking at you and then at each of your lovers, “even if she has forgotten about certain things, I think it’ll come back to her pretty quickly.”

. . . .

The next few days come and go quickly, the boys take turns staying with you at night. They notice you seem most comfortable with Alex and Hercules, which John and Laf try not to be hurt by, but it only makes them want to take better care of you.

There was two nurses that you loved to take care of you, Maria and Eliza. They were always kind and gentle with you, which each of the boys appreciated.

It was the day of your discharge and you were excited to go home, but sad you wouldn’t see Eliza and Maria. They both had come to see you before you left, they had grown quite fond of you.

“Hello, sweetie,” Eliza greets you with a warm smile.

“Hey tootsie,” Maria greets you with a grin and a wink.

You smile brightly at each of the women, before opening your arms for a hug. They both come to you and envelop you in their arms. They give the boys their contact information in case they needed help with anything, and explained how to give you your medication and all the side effects you could have.

They both kiss your cheeks and give you one last hug before bidding you goodbye. . . . When you make it home and into your apartment, you look around and little memories flash through your head. You’re immediately tired as you feel your head begin to ache.

You lean into Herc, who wraps an arm around you gently, while you bury your head in his chest.

“What’s wrong honey?” he asks but you just whine into his chest, one of your hands on the side of your head.

“Come on sweetie,” he says picking you up, being careful not to cause you any more pain.

You go without complaint, hiding your face in his neck. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t like the fact that you needed him or wanted him to care for you. You were usually so independent. You hardly ever let the boys do anything for you.

Laf picked up your medication, and after you woke up from your nap, it was time for your first dose.

You had two different types of pain medication due to your broken bones and head trauma. Hercules brought you your medicine with a bottle of water, after you had eaten.

At first you were willing to take it, but as soon as the powdery taste was on your tongue spit it out. Shaking your head and looking at Hercules like he had just betrayed you.

“You have to take this medicine to make you better sweetie,” he says gently, trying to coax you to take it.

You shook your head, keeping your mouth closed and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Please, love, we want you to get better.”

You cross you arms and turn your head away from him. He sighs and tries again.

“You have to take this medicine sweetie,” he looks at you seriously. “If you don’t take it you won’t get better.” You stand your ground and jerk away when he tries to give it to you again.

“No,” you grumble at him, still looking at him angrily.

Laf comes in to check on you and sees your indignant expression and is confused.

“Is everything okay, mon amour?” he asks Herc, who sighs heavily.

“She doesn’t want to take her medication.”

Laf nods and makes his way to the opposite side of you. You watch him warily, ready to refuse him as well.

“Why won’t you take your medicine, mon chéri?”

You pause for a moment, before resuming your stance. Laf waits for your answer looking at you with kind, gentle eyes. You sigh, loosening slightly.

“It tastes gross,” you mumble petulantly. He nods in understanding, seeming to think for a moment.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says looking at you seriously, “if you take your medicine I’ll give you something sweet.”

You squint your eyes at him, not really believing he was telling the truth.

“I will, I promise,” he says holding out his pinky.

You stare for a moment, before wrapping your pinky around his and giving him a small smile. He smiles brightly at you and you take your medicine still hesitantly, not wanting taste the chalky pills.

Once you’ve taken both, you look expectantly at Laf, who chuckles and goes to the kitchen to retrieve some cookies. He had made them while you were still in the hospital, one night when he was restless.

As soon as you saw the sweet treat, you lit up. You had a big smile on your face as he placed them in front of you. You whisper a ‘Thank you.’

You look towards Hercules and immediately look down, feeling guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you say glancing at him. He smiles warmly at you and kisses your head.

“Its okay, little mama.”

You giggle and eat your cookies, smiling happily.

. . . .

The next few days are fairly easy, the boys take some time off work to take care of you. You’re fine for the most part, the occasional headache and pain that would make you slightly grumpy.

Unfortunately, after these easy days, you had a really bad day.

You couldn’t sleep the night before and you were incredibly cranky. You refused to take your medicine, and even after they finally got you to take it, you remained difficult.

Alex tried putting on a movie for you, hoping it would make you tired enough to fall asleep. Instead it just seemed to make you more upset. You started yelling, and pounding your hands on the mattress beneath you.

The boys were all shocked and weren’t sure what to do at first. All of sudden John starts to sing. Your ears perk up, catching his voice, as yours lowers and your hands stop flailing.

He continues coming over to sit beside you. You stare at him in slight wonder. You reach your arms out wanting him closer to you, his heart warms at the sight. He smiles and seeing him smile brings a smile to your face as you lean on his shoulder.

He continues to sing to you and soon your asleep in his arms. He looks at his other partners smiling, proud that he was able to calm you down. They each smile sweetly at him, knowing how desperately he had wanted to comfort you these past few days. They leave you both and let him enjoy this moment with you. A few moments later, he’s asleep too.

. . . .

Weeks turn into months, and you have your good and bad days. On your bad days, John sings to you and lulls you to sleep. Alex reads to you animatedly, taking you on different adventures. Laf speaks to you in French, while you giggle at different phrases he says and you even try to learn a few.

Hercules runs his fingers through your hair and rubs soothing circles on your back, and tells you silly jokes.

You heal pretty well within the first two months of your recovery, although your pain still hasn’t completely subsided. Your head trauma looks better with every check up.

You start to come back to your regular self. The boys are so excited when they wake up one morning, and your voice is no longer small and you act like you always had before. They were so relieved, they loved you so much and although they couldn’t help how cute you were, taking care of you in this state was hard.

They were deflated the next day, when you had reverted back. They pushed through supporting each other, and taking care of each other.

You would come in and out of your child state of mind, but you seemed more yourself everyday and the boys couldn’t be more thankful.

Each one of them got to bare witness to different moments you remembered with each of them.

. .

With Hercules it came when your cast was getting taken off. You were on the stupid crinkly paper and you had laid back, waiting for the doctor. He was holding your hand, as you groaned in frustration. You wanted this cast off already.

“It’ll be off soon enough, little mama,” he says kissing your hand.

The memory though fuzzy, comes to the forefront of your mind.

“Just keep holding my hand big poppa,” you say, smiling at him.

He looked at you, shock evident in his face. You hadn’t called him that since before the accident.

“What?”

“You haven’t called me that in a while.”

You catch a tear coming from his eye.

“Babe,” you say, caressing his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says trying to wipe his tears away, feeling silly. It was just a silly nickname, but he hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“Hey,” you say getting him to look at you. “Its okay,” you smile sweetly. “You’ve always been my great protector,” you whisper, looking at him lovingly. “You had to be so strong for everyone,” you say knowingly. He nods, not meeting your eyes.

“You don’t always have to be so strong, you know. Remember we can be your rock to.” You wait for him to meet your eyes and smile softly at him. “Okay, big poppa?”

He nods again with a smile, resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly.

“I will, little mama.”

. . . .

With John it happened one night he had come home from work exhausted a full three months after your accident. You were sitting on the couch, watching tv, when he came in and flopped down next to you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, turning towards him, brushing a stray hair from his face.

“Really long day,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head and leans into your shoulder.

“Here,” you say grabbing pillow and putting it on your lap.

You motion for him to lay down. He does, resting his head on your lap, facing your stomach. You gently pull out his hair tie and run your fingers through his hair. He groans and buries his face in your stomach. You giggle lightly, continuing to massage his scalp.

“I missed this,” he mumbles into your stomach.

“Getting head massages?”

“Just being with you, I mean you, you,” he says looking up at you. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

You smiled at him, and his words circled around in your head, and you laughed lightly. He looked at you confused.

“What?”

“You asked me to come back to you in the hospital,” you say, caressing his face. You brushed your thumb under his eyes, the memory becoming clearer.

“You were crying, too,” you say your face becoming sad. “You were so upset.”

“You can remember that?” he says sitting up, looking into your eyes, intently. You nod.

“I’m sorry I worried you so much.”

“Its not your fault,” he shakes his head, gently grabbing your face and kissing you slowly.

You smile at him when he pulls away.

“By the way, when are you taking me back to the beach?”

He laughs, kissing you again.

“Anytime you want baby girl.”

. . . .

With Laf and Alex it happened all at once. They both had the day off and although you had come back to yourself the boys were still worried, so they kept a close eye on you.

You were taking a nap, when they came in to wake you up for lunch. They came on either side of you, nuzzling your neck. You start stir and when you become aware of your two lovers you begin to giggle.

“I’m awake!” you squeal, as they start tickle you.

“Come on, petit colombe, lunch is ready and if we let you sleep all day, you won’t get any sleep tonight.”

“Alex can stay up with me and let me beat him at smash bros, again,” you say, smiling up at Alex.

He looks at you shocked for a moment then smiles back at you.

“You need to sleep petit colombe,” he says brushing hair away from your face, “or else you get grumpy.”

“You said that I was an angel, while I was sleeping, so I’m never really grumpy,” you say smirking up at him.

He laughs, nodding his head.

“This is true, mon ange,” he says kissing your cheek. “Now, please get up.”

“Can’t I sleep a little bit longer,” you beg, looking at both of them pleadingly.

They look at each other and smirk, before jumping on each side of you and rubbing their beards on your cheeks.

You try to squirm away but they hold you in place.

“Okay! Okay!” you laugh out. “I’ll get up.” They stop and smile at you before helping you up. You walk out of the room, turning back to look at them with slightly sour expression.

“Big bullies,” you mumble, as you make your way to the kitchen with them chuckling behind you.

. . . .

Six months have gone by and you finally feel completely back to normal. The only thing different is the boys, they’re pretty much the same, but now they watch you so closely.

They hardly let you do anything yourself. You understood, of course. The first three months of your recovery you needed them to do nearly everything for you.

But as time wore on they were still adamant about doing things for you. They had given you a little freedom, though. They let you make yourself food, although you couldn’t make dinner or any meal, it was deemed as too much for you to handle. You could shower alone, but not for long periods of time because they would check on you incessantly. You could walk around without them hovering, but you couldn’t be left alone for too long either.

To say you were getting slightly frustrated was an understatement. You had to remind yourself that they were just worried about you, and that they had gotten used to taking care of you. And you actually found it incredibly sweet that they were so attentive. But, it was time that they saw that you could do things on your own. Maybe you couldn’t drive anywhere because it still freaked you out, but you could do everything else.

So, here you were on Saturday morning determined to make the supreme breakfast you had wanted to make that day. When you went to the kitchen and started taking out everything you needed, noticing you were well stocked in breakfast supplies. Your heart ached for a moment knowing the boys each took turns shopping, and made sure there was everything needed to make breakfast.

You knew they were afraid of it happening again, not only to you, but any of them. You shake the thought from your head, and set out to make the ultimate breakfast feast.

Alex is the first to wake up this time, snuggling into John and looking where you usually sleep. When he sees your spot empty, he sits up right away scanning the room for you and looking towards the bathroom. John wakes up next and instantly realizes your gone and his stomach sinks. He looks at Alex and wakes up Laf and Herc.

“What’s wrong, mon cher?”

“(Y/N)’s not here.”

They all get up instantly and in their haste don’t smell the scents coming from the kitchen. Once they see you, standing in the kitchen in an apron with flour on your cheek, they stop and stare at you.

You look up from the blueberry pancakes, noticing their stare.

“Good morning, my loves,” you say smiling brightly at them. All at once they rush over to you, each of them holding you tightly in a small huddle.

“Umm, guys the pancakes are gonna burn.”

They release you and you take the pancake off the pan and turn back to them.

“Is everything okay?” you ask they each look at you intently.

“You weren’t there when we woke up,” John says sadly.

Your heart sinks. The last time they woke up with you gone, you had gotten hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you say, hugging each of them. “I just,” you sigh, “I just wanted to show you that it’s okay let me do things on my own. That I’m more than capable of doing things on my own.”

“I know all of you are just watching over me and I appreciate it and love you so much for it. But, I need you to understand that I need to able to do things on my own.” You purse your lips, you eyes pleading with them to understand.

“We have been a little much,” Herc says nodding.

“Its just we got so used to taking of you, mon ange.”

“It got kind of hard to just stop,” Alex says taking your hand in his.

“I know,” you squeeze his hand, and smile lovingly at each of your boys.

“Can we please help you with breakfast, baby girl?” John asks, eyes pleading. “Because you asked so nicely,” you say smiling as he comes to hug your side. You kiss him sweetly, and your three lovers protest.

“I didn’t get a kiss,” Alex says first.

“I did not receive the honor, mon ange.”

“Me neither, little mama.”

You gasp playfully going to each of them and kissing them as sweetly as you did John.

You each make a different part of your ultimate breakfast and when everything is done, you sit at the table and enjoy it together. You look at each of your lovers laughing and talking, and you’re so thankful that you get to love them and that they love you.

“Everything okay, love?” Herc asks you lightly touching your knee.

You smile at him and hold his hand.

“I’m just happy to be back.”

[buttersbots]

@emme2589 tagged me to do this whole thing?? If anyone wants to know far too much about my writing process, check out under the cut for 54 questions and answers!

1. Favorite place to write.      I can’t really say that I have one. The urge to write strikes me at odd times and in odd places. I’ve noticed I really like to write when I should be doing something else instead, or in places I rather shouldn’t be writing. Maybe my muse likes to walk on the edge? 2. Favorite part of writing.      When the characters write themselves! I’ll sit down with just an idea most of the time and the characters take care of the rest. If I have writer’s block, it’s probably because I’m trying to do something out of character, but I’m too reluctant to redo whatever’s bothering me. 3. Least favorite part of writing.      Random lack of motivation and coming up with titles. 4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?      I always have to be listening to something. Usually music, oftentimes TV (when I’m feeling relaxed and not in any rush, I like picking away at a story sentence by sentence while I’m distracted. Which is all the time).  5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.      I’m really struck by Tolkien's writing style and try to emulate his imagery sometimes. Nothing has ever really captured me the way that does. Other than that, I guess my writing is inspired in part by everything I’ve ever read? 6. Favorite character you ever created.      Fletcher (surprise). My son. My hopes and dreams. 7. Favorite author.      Too hard... but I like @stormkeeper12 a lot. She’s my favorite person on this planet and a naturally gifted writer. 8. Favorite trope to write.      Ex-con adjusts to a normal, domestic life while moving past their traumas and unlearning toxic behaviors with the help of their loved ones, eventually learning to love life and feeling fulfilled in ways they never knew possible. 9. Least favorite trope to write.      Why would I write a trope I don’t like? 10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.      @emme2589 WE’D WRITE ABOUT ROBOTS AND IT’D BE SICK AS HELL 11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.      It depends. If it’s just a ficlet, I’ll just write it out once I’ve had the idea usually over the course of a day or two, then go back and tweak things so it flows and there are no grammar/syntax/punctuation errors. If it’s a longer story, I’ll start it from some point and fill out the rest sporadically. Sometimes I’ll make outlines, sometimes my muse will slap me with a random scene and I’ll write it out and fill in the context of the story later. I rewrite constantly. 12. How do you deal with self-doubts?      I write as a coping mechanism. My writing improves the more I do it, so when I’m down in the dumps and need to get it out, my characters give me all the catharsis I need while simultaneously becoming more alive. 13. How do you deal with writers block?      I don’t. If I have writer’s block, I’m not going to get anything done, so I do something else. 14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?      I don’t write books, but I think the most unneeded research I’ve ever put into something was at the beginning of Charming, and it was about tulips. I wanted Two’s gardening to be realistic since she knows everything there is to know about plant care, so I researched when you’re supposed to plant tulip bulbs, how to best tend to them so that they grow well, and learned a hell of a lot considering I’ve hardly gardened a day in my almost 20 years of existence. I think I only ended up mentioning that she was removing debris from the soil in the background. 15. Where does your inspiration come from?      That’s what I’d like to know! Why can’t I just be inspired by something popular that would get me regular feedback? Why did I have to fall for a speck of a crossover rarepair? Why do Nos and Two make me feel like I’m alive when nothing else will? 16. Where do you take your motivation from?      My own feelings. If an idea doesn’t make me feel things, I won’t write it. As a result, almost everything is comforting and low-energy or something light, quick, and comedic. 17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?     It wouldn’t really be fair to take an average when I’ll write nothing for days, write a couple paragraphs every other week when I should be doing homework, and then sit down and write seven pages straight every blue moon. 18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?      I’ll comb through the entire story and tweak every word I don’t like until one day I’ve improved so much that I start tweaking at one point and end up rewriting the whole thing from scratch. (Example: Alloy [NSFW]). 19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.       When the doorbell rang, Fletcher was already at the front door, waiting to pull it open. Evening had just fallen. The porch light flickered, and it must have made him look even more frantic than he felt ‒ the two women standing on the porch practically jumped back at the sight of him.      [Fletcher Calls a Council] 20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.      With his sensors dulled to ignore the rest of the hospital, Nos-4-a2 felt like the entire universe was limited to his immediate surroundings. In front of him sat the long, low nanotherapy chamber, its contents swirling silver under the artificial light, unchanging over the passing hours. Across from that sat the heavy door, muffling the sound of people moving through the halls. Behind him, the curtains covered the world outside, blocking the progress of the storm. Even his thoughts seemed to come to a grinding halt, numb with waiting, tired of imagining every possible scenario.      The day had completely wasted away before the outside world came crashing in.      A quiet knock was his only warning before a star-struck Morgan opened the door. “You have some visitors!”      [Vampirism Chapter 6] 21. Post the last sentence(s sorry I have no self control) you wrote in one of your WIPs.      We hurt him. It was the only thought in her mind. He might not trust them any more. He might hate them. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew the only way to make anything right would be to explain.      “Fletcher... I’m coming up,” Two murmured. She unbuckled her cape and folded it, placing it on top of the low stone wall surrounding the tree. The white probe then proceeded to find her way through the mesh of bark and leaves until she was wedged in a niche of branches directly across from her son. He’d shifted his head so that he wasn’t looking at her.      “...Please, honey, talk to me,” Two whispered.      Fletcher blinked, his eyeforms narrowing. He waited, not knowing what to say or how to feel. His voice broke when he finally asked, “Did Dad ever kill anyone?”      [Family Secrets] 22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?      I don’t keep drafts. I just work on something until I feel like the plot and language are sound enough for me to put it online. 23. Single or multi POV, and why?      I only ever write a story out of one point of view any more, and it’s almost exclusively third person, usually limited. Sometimes omniscient, but most of the time I’ll just switch limited from one character from another after a break in the story. Third person comes most naturally to me after all my studying because almost all of the reading we did was in third person. 24. Poetry or prose, and why?      Prose, because it’s the best way I know how to evoke a clear emotion. Prose is often more beautiful and meaningful to me than poetry. 25. Linear or non-linear, and why?      HAHAHAHAHA! Non-linear because I don’t have the discipline or desire to write in order. 26. Standalone or series, and why?      I think... both...? Somehow...? I write mostly ficlets and one-shots that don’t need a lot of context, but they have much more meaning if you’re familiar with the continuity that I write for, so...? 27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?      @erick-achan and @emme2589 both have access to the hundreds of WIPs in my Google Drive. If I got to know anyone else who was interested, I’d give them the same thing. I’m so thirsty for feedback and gushing about/expanding on ideas, I can’t wait to be finished! 28. And who do you share them with?      Trusted creatives/anyone who shows the slightest bit of maybe thinking that they might want to look into Nos and Two. 29. Who do you write for?      Myself. 30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.      HOW COULD YOU ASK THIS? I don’t know! Oh GOD I’d have to read through everything and pick just one, it would take me ages, ‘cause what if I forgot about something and found it later? It would haunt me. 31. Hardest character to write.      Not sure. I don’t really want to spend energy on characters that don’t come naturally to me. 32. Easiest character to write.      Two. 33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?      This is my go-to playlist. 34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?      Typed. I type everything. Sometimes I’ll hand write, but that’s only if I’m in a very particular mood or don’t have my computer with me. 35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________.      Well, this was obviously meant to be asked a single question at a time, so if you’d like to know more about the backstory of one of my characters, send me an ask! 36. A spoiler for story _________.      You can send me an ask for this as well, though there’s really nothing for me to spoil. I have a detailed timeline and write out of order. If you’re reading my stories, it’s probably for the interactions/journey. 37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.      This doesn’t count as just a quote, but basically anything about Father Zosima’s philosophy in Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. We had to read it in AP Lit, and it was a drag, but Father Zosima’s teachings helped me get through a seriously dark time when nothing else could. I don’t subscribe to his religion as much as the message. You can kinda see what he’s all about in his shmoop article, but it doesn’t do justice to the depth of Zosima’s life story. It’s really the basis of how I try to live my life every day, and now that my sister’s reading TBK in AP Lit, I’m thinking about going back and looking over the Zosima parts again. 38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it?      Send me an ask~ 39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.      I draw inspiration from everything, I think. There isn’t anyone who’s solely based on someone I know in real life or who I designed to be like anyone I’ve met. I guess Two’s boss at work is kinda like my managers, but I wrote her before I got my job, so that’s just coincidence. 40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?      Fanfiction, because I have no feelings for anything I’ve created on my own that didn’t stem from someone else’s intellectual property. I guess the closest I’ve come to original fiction is when I write a Fletcher-centric story that only involves other characters of my own design, which I guess are becoming more frequent. 41. How many stories do you work on at one time?      *choking back tears* I have open WIPs that date back to 2013 and I’ve only gotten more prolific since then. (I just counted 98 in my “fanfiction shorts” folder alone, so that’s not including ideas for ficlets or multi-chaptered stories that I have underway. Admittedly, many have been scrapped or set aside, but I never delete anything in case I can reuse some of the material.) 42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.      I don’t design too many characters. Since most of the characters I make are children of other established characters, I just try to balance design elements. Otherwise I do my best to mix in diverse races, genders, and species. 43. Are you an avid reader?      Not nearly as much as I’d like to be. Most of my creative consumption in the past few years has been of video games, and more recently, D&D. 44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.      There are so many good ones that come to mind that make me feel warm from the depths of my soul. The comments that I got on Alloy on deviantART made me feel so validated, I lived off that energy for a month! There are also more general pieces of feedback such as someone (*cough* @emme2589 *cough*) writing a big multi-chaptered fic and l i s t i n g  m e  a s  i n s p i r a t i o n. My mortal soul transcended this plane of existence that day. That really goes for anyone who shows any affectation from my writing, though, no matter the medium. Two of my best friends on the planet I only got to know because of our shared interest in Energy Vampires. 45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.      The only bad feedback is a lack of feedback. (Maybe I only say that because nobody’s given me negative feedback before, but that’s just because not enough people care about Nos and Two, and I’m a Thirsty Bitch.) 46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie?      LISTEN. If ANYTHING I wrote were to be adapted to moving visual media, it would be 2D cartoon animation, and it would kill me instantly. 47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?      ...Both? I don’t have a clear answer for this one. 48. Favorite genre to write in.      I’m sorry, but I was raised on FanFiction.net, so I counting “fluff” as a genre is literally a part of my being. My favorite is fluff. 49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?      Depends on the story. 50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.      I can’t talk about it in polite company. 51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.      Send me an axe. Ask. Axske. 52. How did writing change you?      Writing didn’t change me, my writing changes as I do. I started writing for Wall.E as soon as I could. I was 10 at the time, and I pretty much consider that the beginning of my life. Everything before that was just vague, formative details leading up to me seeing Wall.E and discovering my one true love. 53. What does writing mean to you?      It’s my found family, fictional and non-fictional. 54. Any writing advice you want to share?      Just don’t stop. You can’t help but get better if you just don’t stop. Don’t be discouraged, but don’t stagnate: learn what you struggle with and do better. When you find a writing style you really admire, don’t feel like you’ll never live up to it, just try to reach that level in small ways. Before you know it, you’ll have found your own way and people will be looking up to you, which is scary in its own right. Also, read Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. This is the handiest book any writer who’s into the minutia of grammar and syntax could ever need.

[kellodrawsalot]

Top five worst Sonic Archie issues

So a while back me and @greenyvertekins​ talked a bit about our favorite Sonic Archie moments, I was thinking of doing a TOp five/top ten favorite Sonic archie issues but honestly the moments I and Greenyvertekis mentioned were pretty much my favorite/best issues. So if you want to read here! most of them are also from the best written arcs so .....

Then I thought, wouldn’t it be fun to do a top five WORST Sonic arche issues instead? :) (warning Im from the Netherlands so my English is bad, feel free to spell correct me!)

Number 05 Issue 172

Going pretty low in the list because despite this being one of  my least favorite issues it should be noted that this was the start from the comic getting better and better at this point, this ugly-face just was the blacksheep from that collection.

Not only was the cover a bad reminder that the comic was seen as bad-furry-romance-drama which I really hoped the comic wanted to distant itself from it, the entire issue is a sadlyalso  bad-furry-drama. It starts off with Amy Rose confronting Fiona Fox about the rumors that she heard from Tails that she is cheating on Sonic with Scourge, (the Green Edgy Sonic recolor) Now the story of Fiona Fox is a pretty sad one, she never had much of a character to begin with. She was first introduced as a robot in her child form to lure Tails into a trap. It turns out that Eggman based her off a real person: Fiona Fox who someway or another was left behind by Mighty and Sonic in Eggman’s prison and she manage to escape but stil holding a grudge and got angry at them for it, That is mostly what I remember her from in the past issues. From then on she would just be background character number 55 a freedom fighter with no dialog, the only times I sort of remember her was that she liked the idea of using guns, and that Sonic was afraid for Tails to be rejected by the too-old-for-you girl Fiona.Sonic wanted to talk to FIona about this issue and she mentions she still thinks SOnic is selfish for leaving her behind but that his sacrifice in issue 125 made her change her mind somewhat, That’s it. Now the weird story behind Fiona is that Karl Boilers planned to use her as a second-love interest for Sonic after Sonic broke up with Sally. Sonic was supposed to enter a relationship with Amy Rose shortly after the Sonic/Sally break up. (Keep in ind that Amy Rose back then was still 10 years old mentally at that time YIKES.) and Fiona for whatever reason was to become a rival to Amy for Sonic’s affections. Now Ken Penders apparently interfered with this idea and Karl and Ken changed it into...Fiona Fox becoming Sonic’s girlfriend instead...out of the blue....out of nowhere. At least with Amy you knew she had a crush on Sonic but with Fiona? why would Sonic ever enter a relationship with a girl he hardly interacted with and with a girl his best friend was crushing on? ..moving on various issues later and writer Karl Boilers and Ken Penders were no longer on board and new writer Ian Flyn entered into the picture it was by then far too late to clean up this mess and I could tell from the comic’s writing that Ian wasn’t sure what to do with Fiona, he tried to give her a more Sally-personality with a bad history but that felt tripped and forced. He knew he had to break the two characters off and he thought the best way to do that was to reveal that Fiona Fox became a bad-girl who fell in love with Scourge due to the events off Sonic 150 (dont worry that issue will be brought up later)

Not only did this came out of no where, it felt forced even if Fiona had no character it felt like she really was just a pawn of a writer not sure what to do with her. It also didnt help that the issue ends in a weird anticlimatic way  and in the next issue most of the characters dont even talk or seem to be phazed with Fiona’s betrayel and  Sonic would be slightly flirtatious with Sally and Amy in the next issue too, (Really Sonic you just got dumped.) The issues saving grace is a cute side story with Amy Rose and Julie Su training together and some decent/good art overall.

Number 04 Knuckles the Echidna issue 32

Yes Knuckles does count as part of the Sonic series, and if the list would be Knuckles comic focused this would have been number one. Not only was this the last issue of probably the most boring arc I ever read It also nailed the coffin on the Knuckles series as it was canned after this issue. It introduced two very uncreative very Un-SegaSonic like characters: Monk and Hunter whose design and motivations are as generic as you can imagine. Ken Penders tries to make you feel for the Monk-character but I dont think anyone was convinced. I own this issue as well and HONESTLY I forgot I even read this issue as a child it was that forgettable, even in my Knucklesfangirl phase as soon as I finished reading the last 3 issues I forgot about it, It also doesnt help that the covers while nicely drawn by Galan were cluttered and too busy, Ken Penders did the book’s art and while he did a perfect job drawing Hunter his cartoon characters were always off-model and the way he draws large mangaeyes didn’t look well. In other words the art wasnt good either.

I only remember these issues  because of @hedgehogscantswim​ review, which I suggest you guys read into as they go into much greater depth on their blog on the flaws of the art, the character designs of Monk and Hunter and the overall big problem the last issue has.  

Number 3 Sonic issue 134

Oh Yeah let’s talk about the big one, let’s talk about the issue that caused many Sonic fans to drop the comic, lets talk about the issue that split the fanbase in half and what made the Sonic-Archie comics the laughing stock of Sonic spin offs for years to come until Ian Flyn joined and the much later soft-Reboot. If the Sally/Sonic/Mina love drama didn’t convince people that the comic had badfurryromance drama this issue sure did.

Sonic sacrificed himself in issue 125 to save the world,  but was transported to a different planet cause science, he survived and had space adventures with Aliens, met up with Tails parents somehow...(Really those issues are all a blur too me at this point.) he came back to Mobuis only to discover a year has passed since then, he reunites with his nowwithlonghair girlfriend Sally and by issue 125, Sally makes it clear to Sonic that she wants him by his side as she is sort-of forced by her parents to no longer be on the battle field. However Sonic cant possibly do that, he is the hero after all, he cant be tied down Sally clearry suffering from trauma after Sonic’s death begs him to stay by her side, Sonic  tearfully tells her he can’t and Sally takes Sonic’s rejection pretty well and says that she knows being a hero is in Sonic’s blood and decides to reject her parents wishes and join her boyfriend and the rest of her friends on the battle field.

No wait Never mind, she SLAPS him across the face and calls him Selfish and breaks up with him afterwards.

Not only did this issue came in the worst possible time when the Sonally/Sonamy ship wars was rampant in the Online Sonic fandom communities. The motivation and reason for Karl Boilers to do this was in such a bad taste as well. Karl who MOST Likely was aware of the growing popularity of the Sonamy ship and the hatred the sonamy fanbase had for Sally, from people calling her a marry sue, a slut because her lack of pants, ugly due to her brown color sceme, and other funny-horrible things because shipping is serious business, Probably wanted to win and be favored by a part of the Sonic fan base and had outlined plans to have Sonic and Amy Rose become an official couple in the comics. (Even if Karl wrote Amy Rose as a 10 year old mentally girl with a body of a 12 year old together with a 17 year old teen Sonic.) They had to become a couple. How to do this you ask? by breaking Sonic/Sally up and portraying  Sally out to be a selfish cunt of a woman, not only was this so disgustingly out of character and a slap to the face to the sonally and Sally fans, it was all to make the fans to transaction to the idea of Sonamy instead. It didnt help Sally’s position in the fanbase and she along with Chris and Elise would be among the list of the most hated characters where extreme Sonamy fanbrats now had valid proof on their side.It would take years for Sally to recover. To add insult to injury the only nice thing about the issue is the introduction of new artist John Gray (whose animish-cartoondisneyish style was colorful, pleasant and very pleasing to the eye! was more then needed at that time since the art quality standards was low back then. )John has stated he did NOT like working on this issue either due to the content and story. I am so thankful that Sally has been much better written for years now.

Number 02 Sonic Super Special issue 07 Crossover with Image Comics

Where to start with this, oh boy oh boy. I put this very high on the list because this has to be one of the worst crossovers spin ofss I have ever had the pleasure of reading. and I mean that the Powerrangers/TMNT crossover was more enjoybale that this mess. This is also very high on the list not only because the art was below average and many characters were off models but Mister Ken Penders used this crossover special to shoehorn his own ‘’characters’ from his comic book series the Lost Ones. (who btw got canned after only volume 01) his characters got the most attention out of everyone else. A image-comics with Sonic crossover already sounds sort of weird and silly but hey I am Spawn fangirl, I am intrigued. But I dont even get that.

(oh wait, this is fucking it, Spawn appears for about a page to say no to Sonic and then leaves thats it??) FOR FUCK SAKE....

Honestly @robotnikholmescomicblog​ gave this comic a great review and I suggest going to their tag of Ken-Penders-Why as they bring out most of the flaws of Ken Penders writing and they said it better then I ever will.

Overall the issue is just a mess, with shallowcheap cameos of image characters, Sonic and the freedom fighters being DICKS to most of the human characters for no reason, a very anti climatic ending and a giant commercial for Ken Penders doomed and boring characters that nobody gave a dam about) characters that he planned to use in ‘’The Lost ones’’ and Knuckles 20 years later. With a character hinting to become Knuckles’s greatest enemy yet with a very ugly boring design that could rivals Hunter. (btw none of these concepts go anywhere, Lost Ones was canned, and Knuckles 20 years later didnt come in fruition the way Ken Penders wanted.)

and number 5, worst issue Sonic issue 150

This is my most least favorite issues up to date and why you might ask

well for one thing the art is okay, I give it that but it doesnt even start with Sonic,

no we get a quick-reveal  of AntiSonic pretending to be the real Sonic flirting with all the girls in knothole

We get uncomfortable panels of Mina Mongoose almost cheating on her boyfriend with Sonic, Sonic and Bunnie making out and falling asleep next together, Sonic being creepy at Amy ect and none of the girls seem to realize that this is obvious not the real Sonic but ANti-Sonic. Everbody fails to notice that Sonic is  trying to flirt with all the girls he gets his eyes on. Only Tails seems to quistion it. Shows how much his own friends seem to know him. Or his own freaking family. The real Sonic is stuck in anti-mobuis and is busy trying to convince them that he is not AntiSonic, it’s very boring and dull. Also since the real Ant was stuck in anti Mobuis couldn’t he have tried to come back to his own world with Sonic? I dont know that just confused the heck out of me, The extra side story also doesn’t help, Its the conclusion to TailS ‘’the Chosen One’’ which was,,,pretty lame too with bland-art, and has the unfortunate of introducing the fanbase to the still-hilarious Titan Tails

(OHfuckmethat’sstupid.)

So the stories are stupid, the art is okay and lame. Why is it so high on the list?

It’s THE 150 anniversary issue and this is how Karl and Ken apparently wanted to celebrate it? It also doesn’t help that the cover is really underwhelming and boring compared to the 125th issue but that’s it’s least of its problems. A short while later Ian Flyn and Tracey joined the team and Ken and Karl left. For the better. But talk about a lame way to celebrate a 150th milestone. What a waste.