#so i was like okay there will be plenty of fics to peruse

[touyaz]

Another thing about me is that I love some plot w my porn <33

[ahummingbirdwitch]

OH MY GREAT HEAVENS your Cypher are so good,, I would love to request a fluffy Cypher x Reader fic, possibly one where he tries to DIY a gift for you (it ends up looking not as he expected)

Thank you sm anon!! Here ya go :)

Makeshift (Cypher x F!Reader)

Summary: Cypher DIYs a gift for your birthday. So sweet it’ll give you cavities.

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 944

Warnings: none

Notes: I had the same Reader character in mind from my usual Cypher fics but y’all are free to imagine anyone you like!

Your birthday was coming up, and your gift had to be perfect.

Cypher wasn’t one to brag, but he liked to consider himself the best gift-giver in Valorant. There was no competition, really. He had every agent’s passwords, to all their devices and accounts; he knew what kinds of sites they perused, what things they added to their carts while shopping online, so when birthdays and holidays came around, he was practically Santa Claus. It wasn’t a secret how he knew what his friends wanted, but they were all grateful nonetheless.

The ones he cared about, anyway. Sova got a lump of coal every Christmas.

You were no different. He knew pretty much everything you liked, all your favorite sites and items and things you were saving up for. He could easily just buy you the first thing on your wishlist or have your favorite meal delivered to HQ, but you weren’t just any agent to him, and this wasn’t just any birthday. You were his girlfriend, and this had to be special. You deserved something straight from the heart.

So, after much deliberation, he’d decided to make something himself.

He’d made plenty of gadgets in his life, all for work, but he’d never made anything of that nature for someone. Nothing meant to be a gift, anyway. He’d thought about making you something practical, like a hair dryer or an electric massage stick, but nothing seemed personal enough. You needed something sentimental.

You loved bears, so at last, he decided he’d make his first real robot: a little bear-shaped friend.

In all honesty, Cypher struggled to put it together. He was good with tech, that much was true, but his devices weren’t nearly as advanced as Killjoy’s. He’d thought about asking her for help more than once, but ultimately, he’d stuck to his work and pressed on alone. This was his gift to you, and he could do it himself. No challenge was too big.

The night before your birthday, it was finally finished. He wiped his forehead and took a step back, admiring his handiwork. It wasn’t as flashy as something Killjoy would’ve made, but that was okay. He’d done it all himself.

He just hoped you liked it.

^ ^ ^

“Alright,” Cypher said, guiding you towards your desk chair. “Sit down, and close your eyes, dear.”

“Ooh, is it time for my surprise?” you asked, giggling as you took a seat.

“Yes. Come on now, close them.”

“Okay.” You did as you were told.

Cypher removed the bear from its box, taking a deep breath before holding it out to you. “Okay. Open them.”

You obeyed. The second you saw the bear—a miniature version of your teddy bear in white and blue colors—your eyes nearly popped from your skull. “Aww, Amir!” you exclaimed, accepting it from him. “It’s my Teddy! But he’s little!”

Cypher’s face flushed under his mask. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” You were grinning from ear to ear. “I love it! He’s so cute!”

His heart warmed, fluttering with love and relief. “I was calling him Mini-Bear,” he said. “But you can call him whatever you like.” He took a step closer, taking the bear from you gently so he could feel around the back. “He… also speaks.”

He pressed a button, and his own voice came out of the bear: “I am always watching you, my dear.”

You stared in awe, looking absolutely delighted. “Oh my God. That’s so sweet!” You took the bear back from him. “You really made him all by yourself?”

Cypher chuckled. “Yes. It was… a bit tricky, I’ll admit. But I think he turned out okay.”

“He turned out great.” You hit the button again, beaming when another line came from the bear, also in Cypher’s voice: “Thinking of you, sokar.”

Cypher blushed. “Maybe don’t run through all of them right now…”

You gave him a cheeky grin, then hit the button again. “Sleep well, princess,” the bear said.

“Princess?” You smiled coyly. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

Cypher scratched the back of his neck. “It is… cheesy, I know. But the bear said it, not me!”

You laughed and hit the button again. “Goodnight, my dear,” the bear said. Suddenly, it began to stutter. “I—I love—love—love—”

Cypher froze, panicked. “Shit,” he muttered. He hurried to grab the bear from you. “I—oh no. Oh dear. I thought—I thought the voice box was stable.”

You looked up at him, eyes round, still smiling. “Hey, it’s okay! It just glitched for a sec.”

“No, no.” He looked over the bear, wanting to phase through the floor and disappear. “Shit. I can—fix that. It was—not supposed to do that.”

Especially not when he’d been in the middle of saying… that.

“Amir.” He felt your hands on his, and slowly, he allowed you to take the bear. “It’s okay, I promise. I love it.” You cradled Mini-Bear in your arms, blushing as you smiled down at it. “That line… were you saying what I… thought you were saying?”

Cypher looked at you, heart full. Embarrassed as he was, he could see as clear as day how happy you were, and relaxed. “Yes,” he murmured at last. “I have… been meaning to say it. For some time now.”

You got to your feet, leaving Mini-Bear in the chair before wrapping your arms around Cypher. “Thank you, Amir,” you whispered. “I love him. But I love you most.”

Hearing those sweet words from you made all of his work worthwhile, even if it hadn’t all turned out perfect. He held you closer, hugging you tightly as he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

[kbrick]

Peak Drarry: Celebrating Incredible Writers - lettersbyelise

Peak Drarry is a series of posts celebrating the absolute treasure trove of talented writers in this fandom, and a reminder of how lucky we are to have them here with us. Find last month’s post featuring @aibidil​ here. This month features a fan-and-personal-favorite, @lettersbyelise​.

✨lettersbyelise✨

I was introduced to Elise’s writing when they returned to the fandom in late 2021 after a little haitus. Being fairly new to Drarry at the time, I had not yet heard of Elise, though plenty of other readers were chomping at the bit to get their hands on Elise’s new work. I kept hearing good things, so I figured I’d check it out—and immediately fell in love after reading Burn the Witch. The fic was poignant, exciting, and, above all, full of dreamy, delicious romance. So, why should you read Elise’s fic? Here are a few reasons:

The ungodly levels of UST

Elise’s Harry and Draco are fully in lust from the first, even if they still despise each other. In Unfold Me, Harry hates his roommate Malfoy so much that he can’t stop thinking about him or the smell of his laundry detergent. And then, when Malfoy accidentally includes his own t-shirt in Harry’s clean laundry pile, Harry has had enough. He sleeps with Malfoy’s t-shirt under his pillow (and does other, unspeakable things while sniffing it) as retribution. In Cabin Fever, Harry doesn’t like Malfoy or anything, but he can’t help but notice when a sudden gust of wind “whipped through Malfoy’s burgundy, standard-issue Auror cloak and exposed his shapely posterior for Harry to admire.” Okay, and fine, he’s also noticed the way Malfoy laughs, how he strides “through the Auror department corridors like a young prince perusing his future kingdom” (Harry’s words, not mine), and sometimes runs a hand through his “short, stylish, impossibly blond hair.” But don’t worry! Malfoy’s also lusting over Harry, a fact that he accidentally lets slip when he calls Harry ‘pretty’ out of nowhere (which obviously makes Harry lose his damn mind).

Sometimes Harry and Draco’s lust is very inconvenient, like in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar, when Draco recalls a time Potter was pressed against him in the lifts and afterward, Draco had to “walk around with a manila folder held in front of his crotch for a good fifteen minutes.” Poor Draco. Sometimes, Harry is so hot that Draco’s body can’t handle it, like in Burn the Witch, when Draco sees Harry for the first time in years and his heart skips a beat. Literally, “[s]kipped a fucking beat, like in a cheap romance novel.”

Thankfully, Harry’s usually in the same boat. He’s cursed with having a sort of sixth sense when it comes to Malfoy. He can “walk into a room and know Malfoy is there before he even sets eyes on him.” (Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar). The back of his neck prickles whenever Malfoy’s around, okay? It’s not his fault. Malfoy only encourages it, doing things like wearing body-con leggings during a play (Upstaged) so that Harry is basically forced to go and see him perform a bagillion times in a row.

Further complicating matters, Elise’s Harry has typically been thinking about Malfoy for a very long time, in very R-rated ways, like in Laws of Gravity, wherein he muses over the fact that Malfoy kneeling in front of him in a cloakroom is “every fantasy Harry has ever blocked coming to life with an incandescent lack of warning.” Oh, generic gay fantasies, you ask? Hardly. We’re talking Malfoy-specific fantasies that involve “the version Harry’s always kept in the back of his mind, all these years—a hungry, debauched version…” Mm hm. This lust has been brewing for ages.

Occasionally, Elise likes to throw in they-almost-go-there-but-stop-themselves moments that make the UST levels fly off the charts altogether. I literally wrote in my notes on Had To Be You, “oh my god! No!! No! Just have sex! Oh my godddd!!!” (look what you’ve reduced me to, Elise). But Harry and Draco did not have sex at that time. Instead, they proceeded to eat dinner together, sporting what I can only imagine were horrendously painful blue balls. Don’t worry, though—it’s worth the wait when it happens.

Because, listen, if you’re sitting there thinking that all this UST buildup must lead to some scorching hot smut, then you are one hundred percent right. I’m not going to spoil these sexy, delicious, smutty scenes for you here by telling you too much about them, but as a preview, here’s Harry narrating in Had to Be You:

Harry’s heart keeps wanting to escape his ribcage, or at least burst it open, it’s beating so loud. He’s never felt anything like this — this anticipation, like the second before a kiss, only drawn up for minutes, for hours, for bloody months, if Harry’s perfectly honest with himself. There hasn’t been anyone else than Draco for months, maybe years...[T]he back of Draco’s hand brushes his, soft and warm and secret, and Harry nearly gasps, because just that tiny touch of Draco’s is the most erotic thing he’s experienced.

A brush of Draco’s hand does that, ladies and gentlemen. So, yeah, the smut is good.

All that sweet, sweet pining

Listen, I’m not going to say that Elise enjoys torturing readers—I can’t see into their mind! But if I had to guess, I’d say maybe they enjoy it a little? Because Harry and Draco pine so hard in Elise’s fic. Oh, sure, they’ll eventually come to experience a life-changing, soul-filling love for the ages, but first they are going to suffer. If you are anything like me, though, you’ll eat it up because it’s beautiful in its own right, and because it makes the payoff so, so sweet. But first, the pain.

Sometimes jealousy is involved, like in Had to Be You. For years, Draco and Harry watch each other date around and absolutely hate it. This results in various degrees of tantrum-throwing. When Harry makes out with Draco’s friend at a music festival, Harry notes that Draco is in a black mood the next day, and that it has “nothing to do with the weather.” Draco stops talking to Harry for a month after that. A month! When Draco sets off on an Italian holiday with a boyfriend, Harry stomps around until he gets a text from Draco that says Draco misses him (yes, Draco’s texting Harry that he misses him while on a holiday with his boyfriend, and no, neither one of them realizes what this means at this point).

Other times, there is no one else in the picture, and yet our dear boys still pine. They yearn for the thing they think they cannot have (even though they definitely, definitely can have it). In Laws of Gravity, Harry is completely obsessed with Malfoy from the start, although he’s sure it won’t work out because Malfoy’s a pickpocket, and also because he’s Malfoy. Harry thinks maybe the feelings will fade? Fat chance, when he readily admits that his life is “bisected into before and after Malfoy’s mind-boggling blowjob.” Harry. Buddy. You’ve divided your entire life (which included a starring role in a war, mind) into pre-blowjob and post-blowjob. I’m pretty sure your feelings are here to stay.

And the reality is, sex is never enough for these two. Nothing short of lifelong love and devotion is ever enough. After Malfoy keeps putting out for Harry in Laws of Gravity, Harry tells him he’s sending mixed signals. Malfoy points out that he’s given Harry not one, but two blowjobs at this point, and he very clearly wants him. Harry argues that it’s “not the same as liking someone.” Because see, Harry and Draco want everything from each other in Elise’s fic. Not just blowjobs, not just friendship, not just casual dating. They want everything.

They’ll make you believe in true love

Which brings me to my final point. Elise’s stories are about the most unabashedly romantic things I’ve ever read. In their first fic on AO3, Had To Be You, Elise notes that it’s inspired by When Harry Met Sally, a film they admit to having watched ‘a hundred’ times. This is not surprising to me. Because if you love When Harry Met Sally, you are someone who loves love, who has a tender center and a soft heart. And after going through Elise’s fics one by one, let me tell you: Elise loves love. Elise loves romance. And this comes through in all their stories, which are, at their core, tender and beautiful depictions of true love.

In Elise’s fic-universe, Harry and Draco were always meant to be, and literally everyone around them knows it. In Had To Be You, Hermione has a heart to heart with Harry in which she makes him acknowledge his feelings for Draco. “I’ve seen how you’ve been practically drooling over Draco for months now,” she says. “And you’ve been obsessed with him…for years. It was the weird thing you had for him in Sixth Year, and now it’s this very intense friendship.” Harry argues with her about the intense friendship, but eventually has to concede the point. In The Generation Who Lived, Neville and Luna scheme to get Harry and Draco alone in their house so that they’ll reconcile (again, because everyone knows they’re meant to be). My favorite fic in this vein is Re: Harry’s Crush, wherein the entire Ministry is emailing back and forth about how obsessed Harry and Draco are with each other. It’s common knowledge. Everyone else can see it, it just sometimes takes Harry and Draco a while to catch on.

But Harry and Draco do know, deep down, even when they don’t admit it at first. It comes out in flashes, like when they have sex for the first time in Had To Be You and Harry notes that “the connection was something [he’d] never felt, not with any of the many lovers he’d had in the past, and it left him feeling raw, exposed and shy, despite the deep pleasure coursing through his veins.” Or in Paper Rings, when Draco reminisces about his Eighth-Year fling with Harry and how he knew, even at the time, that it had been both “inevitable” and that he would never recover from it, emotionally. Or in Laws Of Gravity, when Harry realizes he doesn’t want Malfoy to go, even though he doesn’t know what that means. (It means you love him, Harry!).

One of the things I adore about Elise’s fic is that there is always this fantastic, pivotal moment when things click. It’s the moment when our guarded main characters let their walls fall, let themselves see what everyone else has known for so long. And then this thing—this love—that has felt so impossible suddenly seems easy. There’s a surety that comes flooding in, a recognition that yes, this is the person for me, and yes, they want me too. It’s even said tongue-in-cheek (although we know it’s hilariously real) in Kill, Fuck, Marry when the boys wake up after their first night together. They’d been playing the titular ‘marry, fuck, kill’ the night before, and Draco says, well, you’ve already tried to kill me and you’ve already fucked me, so “[t]he only thing left to do is marry me, I suppose.” Does this scare Harry off? Not at all. “You’ve already got more birthday presents than you deserved Malfoy,” Harry says. “This one will have to wait until next year. If you’re good.” One date and shag, and they’re already joking about getting married. God help us.

But lest you think this is some sort of shallow insta-love, it’s not. Elise, particularly in their long fic, depicts a love of equals, of two men who root for one another and stand up for one another, who have each other’s backs. It’s lovely, the way they see one another so clearly, the way they advocate for one another. Whether it’s Harry in Burn the Witch fighting against a Ministry that’s unfairly targeted Draco, or Draco in Paper Rings advocating for Harry in Harry’s divorce, these are two people who admire and respect each other. It's evident in Harry’s thoughts about how brave Draco is regarding his sexuality in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar. Or, beautifully, in Draco’s thoughts in Paper Rings, when he contemplates that “Harry had spent so many years not being appreciated for who he was…not being loved.” He wonders how “blind Ginevra Weasley must have been not to see how good [Harry was]…how utterly perfect in every one of his complicated ways.” They know that the other is not actually perfect (after all, they, more than anyone, are familiar with the other’s faults), but they love them just the same. In Fire Meet Gasoline, Draco spells out his shortcomings to Harry—all of them—and Harry just says, “Do you think that frightens me? ‘Cause it doesn’t. I told you already. I want everything you are.”

Incidentally, after that gorgeous bit of dialogue from Fire Meet Gasoline, Harry asks Draco to stay with him. Draco thinks about how he doesn’t do love, but Potter was the exception (sort of like how Harry muses that he’s “Draco-sexual” in Paper Rings). Then he says, “I couldn’t leave you if I tried…I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, Potter.” Cue the violins. Le sigh.

Ahhh, Drarry in its best and most natural state. Soulmates, each other’s one and only, together forever and ever, amen.

And one of my favorite things about Elise: they will get you there every time, no matter how improbable it seems at the start.

You can count on it.

Recommended For…

Lovers of love. Connoisseurs of quality, emotional smut. Anyone who wants to get swept up in an epic sort of romance, who believes that romantic partners should lift you up and bring out the best in you. People who believe in soulmates. Those who believe (or want to believe) in happily ever after. Here are a few you might want to check out, but honestly, you can’t go wrong with anything Elise has written.

Top 3 Fics Over 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Burn The Witch (E, 96k) - When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

Had To Be You (E, 59k) - Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London. This is the story of how Harry runs into Draco once, twice, three times, and how he doesn’t leave their next meeting to chance. A fic inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

Top 3 Fics Under 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Kill, Fuck, Marry (E, 4k) -  Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar (E, 2.7k) - Draco Malfoy offers to help his coworkers to improve their seduction techniques, with unexpected consequences.

Re: Harry’s Crush (T, 1.9k) -  Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for.

Kbrick’s Picks (in order of obsession)

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

The Laws of Gravity (E, 31k) - When he runs into Draco Malfoy picking pockets at a charity gala, Harry Potter is forced to face the desires he’s avoided for years — at the risk of shattering the public image he’s so carefully curated since the war.

Fire Meet Gasoline (E, 63k) -  When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

[kalinara]

There is no position that gives me a headache more than anti-anti fans.

Look, I get that "anti-fandoms" are annoying.

It is ANNOYING to post things about ships and characters and have people make assumptions about you based on your feelings about fictional characters.

I've had it happen to me. Hilariously, it wasn't even about one of my actual problematic ships, but because I had a "meh" reaction to the idea of pairing characters from the Umbrella Academy of all things.

But, I'll disclaim right now, I have plenty of ships that an "anti" could confront me about. There's a reason I don't always stay logged in when I peruse AO3. No one needs to review my fic reading history, including me.

So yeah, I get that it's annoying. And some folks take it too far. There's no excuse for threats or insults. Personally, I don't think this behavior is limited to antis, but as mentioned, I've seen some do it.

But I will always have a knee jerk disgust toward people who act like the very act of criticizing a ship or the reception of a character is the same damn thing.

There's some Bat-shipping post going around that equates people being disgusted by Bat-shipping to homophobia and real world oppression. And no, sorry. That's not the same thing.

I think you can definitely make the argument that moral panic can lead to some terrible decisions, particularly legislatively. Frederic Wortham decided that Batman and Robin were in a pedophiliac relationship, after all, and eventually we all got saddled with the comic code.

But, you know, we can still point out that IF Batman and Robin were in a relationship, while Robin was canonically 12 years old, in a comic book intended for children, that would have been categorically NOT OKAY.

Fans love to try to sidestep any criticism by equating their critics with some kind of censorship boogeyman. As though the average fandom critic has any kind of ability to legislate a form of media. Heck, disgusted fans can't even get AO3 to set limits on blatant extreme underage shit.*

(* Disclaimer: I respect AO3's very consistent position on content bans and censorship. I may not personally agree with every decision that they make, but I respect that it's their right to make it. My point is that the average "anti" has no real influence or power here.)

Here's the thing. If you ship something gross. More power to you. I do too. But you also have to deal with the fact that someone out there is going to say "Hey, that's gross." They may not be talking to you directly. Common fandom etiquette means that they probably shouldn't (unless you're invading the anti-tags, in which case, you're asking for it). But they're allowed to have opinions and say them. Free speech works both ways.

The older I get, the more protective I find myself of the right of people to be negative about things. "Don't yuck someone's yum?" I can yuck if I damn well want. I just need to remember that it's not your problem.

My own position is that fandom goes too far to protect the enjoyment of their largest groups, to the point where anything that could possibly cast a pall on said enjoyment is quickly shushed. We can't point out that a ship involves abusive tropes, because this is fiction. We can't grimace at the thought of an incestuous relationship, because that's judgmental. We can't point out hopefully-unconscious examples of racism and sexism because that would make someone feel bad and discourage them from writing.

I still remember how slash fanfic writers started bemoaning about how they can't possibly write FinnPoe anymore because they keep getting called out for racist tropes. The idea of actually making an effort to IMPROVE somehow never seemed to make it into the discussion.

Here's the thing. If I don't like a pairing, I'm going to say so. If I don't like a character (or maybe more accurately, fandom's treatment of said character), I'm going to say so. If I don't like a trope, for whatever reason, I'm going to say so. It's not my job to muzzle my own opinions to make random people on the internet feel better about how they get their rocks off. Why do you care what I think anyway?

Again, harassment's bad. But I think a lot of "anti-antis" are quick to equate "having a negative opinion that makes me feel bad" with an attack. Not the same thing and we all might be a lot happier if we kept that in mind.

[the-lost-girl-you-didnt-know]

Would it be possible for a fluffy Edgar frog fic, including just some awkward and cute interactions between a fellow teen? If not it's completely fine (I also know that the request is vague, I just like Edgar)

Totally possible; I'm sorry for the long wait, but I hope this meets your expectations!

Newbie (An Edgar Frog Oneshot)

Warnings: None! Just some fluffy, awkward Frog shenanigans :)

Word Count: 1,597

The day started like it always did: wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, brush teeth. Prepare weapons for possible supernatural attacks, and make sure that Alan did the same. Last was to put their parents to bed after they returned from getting high with their friends all night, only for them to join the brothers at the store later in the day.

That's how it always was, at least during the summer. They didn't really have friends, not from school and not from around town. They had each other, and that usually was plenty. That's why when they met them, it made the ordinary day, well… different.

It was just after their lunch break when the new teen in town walked into Frogs Comics, looking incredibly curious as they perused the aisles that were lined with comics from DC to Marvel to Archie. Edgar Frog figured it was business as usual, not saying anything to the new customer and not looking up from the finance files that were in his hand. It wasn't until the latest occupant of the shop passed in front of him that it forced his eyes to look up from the documents and ultimately caught his attention. It was another teenager, definitely close in age to him and his brother, and looking very, very new to the boardwalk with bright eyes and an air of curiosity surrounding them.

It wasn't as if they never saw other teenagers in their store, what with kids from their high school milling around during summer vacation and tourist teens coming from out of town with their families. But when Edgar saw them, it was different. He could feel his body tense, feel something anxious and exciting fill his chest as his skin heated up from the inside, tinging his skin a faint shade of pink.

Looking around in an attempt to check that the coast was clear (clear of what, he really didn't know), he shut the folder in his hand and tucked it beneath the counter, coming around it and approaching the teen. His palms felt clammy, and he rubbed them on his cargo pants to try and dry them off the best he could as he swallowed down the new nerves that were plaguing him. As he reached them, their attention turned from the comic in their hands to him, looking at him with those curious eyes as he stopped and leaned against the support beam that held the ceiling of the store up.

And dammit all, he hadn't thought of anything to say, causing him to look like a fish gasping for water as he blinked a bit, searching his brain for something to break the ice.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi… are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm- I'm fine… just fine, um…"

The young Frog was mentally kicking himself; he was a warrior, for Pete's sake, ready to fight werewolves and demons and vampires at a moment's notice, but here he was floundering in front of a cute person his age. He reached for the closest thought he could grab onto, nodding at the comic that was still in their hands.

"That's a good issue. It really ties up a lot of loose ends and answers a lot of questions. Like a good ending should." "I know; I've read it before, but it was my cousin's, so I wanted to get a copy for myself," they replied, smiling a little at the flustered teen that was talking to them. "Oh, cool, cool… I like to have my own issues, too…… Sooo are you new to Santa Carla or just visiting?"

The teen smiled a bit more, closing the comic they were holding and turning to face Edgar more fully as they spoke.

"I'm new. My dad had to move us here for his work, so he waited until the school year was over. We've been here for a week, but since we've been unpacking and all I haven't had a chance to explore the city much."

Edgar raised his brows at hearing that they were new, adjusting his stance and pressing his hands into the large pockets of his pants.

"Really? Maybe once you're finished unpacking I could show you around. A lot of the area's rural land, but the more urban spots can be… fun."

They raised a brow themselves, looking at him with a bit of disbelief as they grinned, laughing a little.

"You don't seem so sure about that," they replied, "but it would be nice to learn about my new home. Sorry; I don't think I caught your name-"

"Edgar," the boy said quickly, "I'm Edgar. Frog. Edgar Frog."

"And I'm Alan Frog," Alan said, walking up and leaning on his brother's shoulder after having come from the back room and overhearing the most recent part of their conversation. Edgar glanced sidelong at his brother, silently annoyed at him butting into their conversation, but being sure not to let it show on his face as he smiled back at the person he'd been talking to.

"A pair of brothers," they noted, smiling as they looked between both of the brothers, who nodded at the same time like it was innate between them. "Well, we can make it a group outting, then, I suppose."

"Sure, sure," Edgar grinned, though a part of him was a little disappointed that it wouldn't just be him and them. "Better in numbers. 'Murder Capital of the World' and all… How's Saturday at 9 A.M. sound?"

"Sounds good to me," they confirmed, nodding in agreement with the plan.

"Great," the older Frog brother said, his voice nearly cracking with excitement as he smiled to them, "We can just meet up here, then." Noticing that they were still holding onto the comic that he'd interrupted them reading, he quickly jumped into employee mode.

"I can check you out- I mean check that out-- ring that up for you, if you're good to go," he offered quickly, stumbling over both his thoughts and his words as he gestured at the comic book they held. Alan couldn't help but glance at his brother with confusion, wondering why he was acting so out of the usual as he looked between him and this other teenager.

"Sure," they laughed, following the two brothers as they led them to the cash register. Edgar took a breath, trying to reground himself as he turned back to them and took the book when they held it out.

"Okay, that'll be seventy-five cents," he said, but before they could dig too deep into their pockets, he spoke up. "But uh, I can cover it for you. Call it the 'newbie deal'… first visit, get a comic free," he said jokingly, chuckling a little as he smiled at them.

They blinked a bit, looking between the brothers for a moment before smiling at what Edgar said and retrieving their hand from their pocket. "Oh," they said, amusement evident in their voice, "Thank you. That's really cool of you."

"Yeah, he does this for all the cute newbies," Alan said sarcastically, raising a brow as he looked between them and his brother, to which Edgar promptly shot him a look that meant to cool it, after which he looked back at the teen with a smile, waving his hand nonchalantly to wave off what Alan had said.

"Don't listen to him. I don't do that for everyone," he said as he slid the comic into a flat paper bag, trying to cover his tracks and hide the fact that he really liked this person, at least based off of first impressions. Punching in the seventy-five cents, he printed a receipt for them before grabbing a pen that was loose on the countertop and crossing out the total. He then slid the receipt into the bag as well before handing it to them with a lop-sided grin. "Here you go. Your own copy."

"Thanks," they said, smiling at him as they took their purchase from him. "I'll see you guys on Saturday."

"Looking forward to it," the older brother returned genuinely. They nodded, their lips upturned as they said 'bye' and waving a little as they turned and left, Edgar watching them leave with heavy interest. It wasn't until they were gone that Alan spoke up, turning to his brother as he leaned with one hand against the counter and the other on his hip.

"Dude, what was up with you?" he asked, an expression of pure confusion on his features. Edgar didn't answer; instead, he grabbed onto Alan's shoulder, pulling him closer and speaking lowly to him. "You're not goin'," he stated, "You've gotta' come up with a reason to not be there, dude." Connecting the dots in his head, between his brother's behavior, appearance, and words, Alan caught on to what was going on as his mouth widened into a knowing grin.

"You like them-"

"Dude, shut up. I'm serious."

"Yeah, about liking them-"

"Don't make me get out the pliers, man, 'cause I will."

Alan stifled a laugh, bringing his hand up to hide his grin as he chuckled against his knuckles.

"Whatever, dude. Tell 'em I came down with a cold or something and enjoy your date."

"That's it, I warned ya!"

And Alan took off, laughing as his brother quickly pulled out a pair of pliers from beneath the counter and chased after him. But he was right, Edgar thought; he did like them. He liked them a lot, and already he was counting down the days until Saturday when he would see them again.

[thegeminisage]

okay liz. i want to start reading cambionverse. where do i start?

HELLO AND OH MY GOD THANK YOU.......you've made this old woman's dream come true :') (i am only being a little dramatic)

i'm gonna give you a short answer and a long answer. you don't really need to read the long answer if it seems overwhelming. i get excited and overexplain things!!!

short answer:

the very first thing to read is the fic cambion. we wrote this fic first, which is why the verse is named after it. after you read cambion, you can reasonably jump in anywhere else on the series page and not be too confused, as long you don't jump to envesseled. cambion first, envesseled last. if you can just remember that, then any amount of shuffling the middle will be perfectly fine.

i have my own opinion for how to read the middle but i'm saving it for the end. please feel free to skip to it!

long answer:

this series is about jesse (half-demon kid from 5.06), ben (dean's maybe-kid from seasons 3 & 6), and claire (cas's temporary vessel in 4.20, and the daughter of his current vessel; she technically returned in s10, but "our" claire had already become her own totally different character by then), and their search for sam and dean, who have been missing for three years. cambion is jesse's fic, only human is ben's fic, and envesseled is claire's fic. but there are a lot of other fics that we wrote taking place in between them.

since we started writing this series while the end of s6 was airing, it will be helpful, but not necessary, to have passing knowledge of s6. we have plenty of exposition to fill in people who didn't watch but the added context is always nice.

ok, down to business! you know how the narnia books and star wars movies were published not chronologically? as in, stuff that happened later was published before stuff that happened earlier? @cambionverse is kinda like that. we have the jesse-ben-claire era and the sam-dean-cas era and even the ben-claire only era, and everyone will have their own preferences about which order to read it in. some options are as follows:

you can read it in the order we published it. pros: you can see things unfold in the same way we did as we went along, and the relationships will feel like they build more organically. cons: you will be going back and forth in time a lot, which may get confusing.

you can read it in chronological order. pros: you can go start to finish without skipping around too much in time. cons: it will take absolute ages to meet jesse, the star of this show. also, the first chronological fics have massive spoilers for cambion, so if you read them before you read cambion you're kind of ruining that fic for yourself, which is a huge bummer.

the published order and the chronological order are both on the series page. here is a screenshot:

WHAT I WOULD DO:

since both of these orders are flawed, i made my own idea, which is to read cambion, then go (mostly) chronologically. like this:

cambion - jesse's big pov fic, the ultimate verse-establisher

enter night - sam-dean-cas prequel. also meg is there <3

synchronicity - ben and claire's meetcute & budding partnership

antichrist problems - jesse, post-cambion, going thru it

only human - ben's big pov fic, an adventure w/ djinn & bisexuality

a house in nebraska - this one is about jesse's adoptive parents

oneshots collection - odds and ends

envesseled - claire's big pov fic, which we are currently publishing

i think this is the best of both worlds. you avoid most major spoilers, get to meet jesse early, and there's not so much going back and forth along the timeline that you get confused (you only really jump like twice).

thank you SOOOOO much for asking, i hope this post didn't put you off or anything and that if you decide to give it a try you enjoy it...it's definitely my pride and joy more than anything else i have ever put on ao3

edit also i forgot to add we have a blog specifically for the series if you wanna peruse it, it's @cambionverse

[the-force-awakens]

Thank you for the recommendation!! It's hard finding Poe centric blogs on here.

I was gonna dm you a question about your gifs but tumblr is telling me I can't because we're not mutuals (rude tumblr) so I'll ask you here. Would you be okay with me using one of your gifts for my header? /nf. I promise I'd give you credits if you were comfortable with it, but it's totally fine if you're not.

I also just posted my first bit of writing for Poe and I'm kinda nervous.

I feel like I just keep rambling on in your inbox about whatever thought lands in my head (pls lmk if it gets annoying)

- @happybeepshere

It is, it's very hard! It kind of baffles me when he's one of the main characters of the saga, but you just....can't seem to ever find anything focused on him (or solely him, I'm all for ships but it's definitely hard to find nonromantic creations for him). That said, here's some blogs that love on him (they're all multifandom tho! so keep it in mind): @leiakenobi, @nowritingonthewall, @cal-kestis, @wildfirewildflower, @aimmyarrowshigh, @ladybokatankryze, @karmas, and i'd be remiss not to mention @hermitmoss who is also my qp partner, they don't often post about the sequels (mostly swtor and pt) but they've made me some lovely poe graphics & fics in the past <3 And these blogs aren't active anymore but I occasionally peruse @dailypoedameron (which i actually used to mod way back when i was a teenager, good fucking god I've been down bad for this man for so much of my life) and @dailydameron. You'll mostly find tfa-era stuff and a trickle of immediately pre-release tlj stuff on those <3

I'm sure there's plenty more blogs out there but I'm uh. a hermit.

Yes, I'd be fine with that! It always makes me happy to see people using my gifs for their headers! My only caveat is I do request that gifs made specifically for someone else (i.e gifsets made for birthdays! it'll say in the caption) not be used, but everything else? up for grabs. I appreciate you asking for permission!

Oh no, definitely not annoying. I've had tumbleweeds going on in my askbox for literally ages, I've missed having people rambling away in my inbox! Especially, you know, when it happens to be about the literal light of my life.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

you're in luck, [https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/742353044577124352/httpsxcomabrilovesebstatus175721355802930422] anon! mr s here is a true purveyor of oral fix seb fics, so his masterlist is just bursting (heh) with inspiration for your perusal 🤭

(okay i'm half-serious, half-kidding and i'm pretty sure anon already knew that lol, i just wanted to share the post this ask immediately brought up in my head:)

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/710465299806404608/this-is-a-little-but-my-first-thought-abt-the

but yes, the source material is very inspiring so the thots, as always, are also plentiful 🤤

related to this

also related to this old drabble

Lmao, thank you! I am always happy to be a purveyor--a connoisseur if you will, lol--of pics and drabbles in Sebastian's oral fixation. I love that for me 💀💀

Thank you for reminding the other anon but also, really, me. I forgot about the existence of that ask answer, haha

And like I keep saying--I need to write more of this! More of orally fixated Seb! Ugh! All I want to do is write filthy shit for Tumblr, but I've been so, so tired as a result of my busy as fuck term that I can barely keep up with asks, let alone come up with new ideas 🙃

[tren-fraszka]

Yuletide 2023

Dear creator,

Thank you for taking your time to check my requests. I know my requests can sound a bit tricky, but please don’t be discouraged. I wish you will have good time writing first and foremost!

My AO3 is Tren, if you wish to check it out. I’m open to treats.

Likes: comedy, angst, casefics, canon compliants, canon divergences, AUs, time loops, bodyswaps, roleswaps, “being hoisted by your own petard” plotlines, snark, pettiness, rivals, enemies to friends to lovers, pining, bed sharing, violence, friendships, and character bonding,

DNW: explicit sex (makeouts and fade to black is okay), A/B/O, mpreg, rape depicted as positive (so no “it’s okay, because the other person enjoyed it/it was what they truly wanted”), trans headcanons, soulmate AUs, stories ending with surrender to fate/destiny, fourth wall breaking in canons where that doesn’t occur, character has cancer or other real-life terminal disease AU, word “queerplatonic”.

Also, I included what ships I’m okay with in each fandom. Please do not include any ships that aren’t canon and I have not allowed in those sections (if you feel really strongly about a ship I haven’t mentioned, you can always ask through mods just in case).

On a separate, but similar note, I’m okay with OCs as long as they don’t overshadow the characters I requested.

Additionally, while I almost never request fanart as possible medium, because I prefer my main gift to be fic, I would be very okay with receiving fanart treats. Also, feel free to peruse my old letters if you get your hands on them. I never stop being interested in fandoms, and if I requested something once I will still want it in the future.

                                       REQUESTS

REIGN OF SEVEN SPELLBLADES

I’m up to date with anime and read the first 3 volumes of manga.

Oliver Horn

Pete Reston

I'd equally love a genfic or shipfic with those two.

I just love how tropey “my roommate has magically changed gender and now I’m helping him keep it a secret” is. The moment I saw it I was sold. Especially, given that Oliver has plenty secrets of his own.

Also, the setting being just edgy Hogwart with swords is so good. I love how dangerous Kimberly is, and how well it captures the charm of magic with the madness of people who end up pursuing it too far and the system that encourages them to do just that.

I’d love an exploraion on how much changes about their cohabitation. Pete mentions wanting to set a curtain, but is it the only change that happens? If there are other changes, what prompts them? Are some changes only applicable to when he’s a woman and get removed if he turns back to his original gender (since it’s mentioned that reversi can change between genders)? Are there situations where Oliver has to help Pete protect his secret? How does he go about it?

For something more shippy, Oliver is teaching Pete swordfighting which is such a good opportunity for extra bodily contact with helping him adjust his stance and such. I’d love to see Pete getting distracted, while Oliver is just doing his best to be hundred percent professional teacher and try to ignore his feelings. Extra points for accidental sword-related double entendres.

I think an exploration of what happened after the anime's final arc wraps up would be very interesting, given just how intense that hug was when Oliver got reunited with Pete.

AUs and ships

I’d prefer no setting changes, I just really, really love the idea of Kimberly as this edgy take on Hogwart. Though as always I’d be open to canon divergences. Maybe Pete catches a hint of Oliver’s secret and tries to carefully figure out what’s going on. How would he react if he learned of his revenge? Would he try to stop Oliver? Alternatively, you could go into more angsty route where Pete's rescue in the final arc doesn't go as well as it did. I would honestly be fine even with tragic ending for this canon, given in how much danger everyone constantly is (including death of requested characters)

I’m fine with mentions of Oliver’s fascination with Nanao (and Pete potentially feeling jealous of Oliver giving her attention), but I don’t want an outright love triangle, or shipping Oliver and Pete with someone else

AKANE-BANASHI

I’m up to date with manga, feel free to include new development

Akane Ousaki

Hikaru Kouragi

Finally, classic shounen rivals - female version. I’m so glad we are finally here.

I'd love to see more of their competition. Maybe another clash at an event. Or maybe they both end up performing at the same event and use it as opportunity to set up a little competition. It'd also be cool to see them interact in a more casual setting. Maybe they accidentally run into each other while shopping and decide to stick together. Or they bond over seeing a particularly bad movie.

I'd love to see them becoming closer with every rakugo event that they meet at. Going together to rakugo events to watch other performers or maybe visiting places connected to the stories they’re working for inspiration. Would they try to help each other if either of them ran into trouble?

However, I'd also be very much into rivalry slowly turning into romance! How would a confession look like? Would it be something open, or would one of them slip it between the lines. Would there be pushback about them dating given how traditional rakugo it? I won’t be surprised if there had already been some gay relationships the rakugo community that were an open secret, but what if Akane and Hikaru decide to come in the open about their relationship

AUs and ships

I think a setting change could be pretty fun as long as the element of rivalry stays intact. Different time periods, fantasy AUs, or such could be really interesting for them. Maybe they’re singers now, or bards. I would also be very up for a fastforward to when they’re adults and their rakugo career is in full bloom. How had relationship between them changed? Or has it stayed pretty much the same?

Please don’t ship Akane and Hikaru with anybody else.

ENDING MAKER (WEBCOMIC)

Please no light novel spoilers. I’m keeping up to date with new chapters so feel free to include new developments.

Yuder Bayel | Outboxer009 & Cordelia Chace | Sandstorm

Two no-life gamers get transported into the world of the MMO they play and suddenly have to stop actual world-ending plot. While being engaged. If anyone can do it it’s them. And maybe they’ll even admit they are in love while they’re at it.

I think it would be interesting to explore their relationship before the story started. We got a small glimpse into their rivalry, but it would be fun to see more of their MMO misadventures, especially to contrast it with how they’re currently having to co-operate. Aside from the server rankings, did they engage in other competitions? PvP? Guild versus guild events? Were they racing to see who can get the newest armour or weapon from raids?

For something happening after they became their avatars, it would be intersting to see them doing engagement activities when they don’t have a direct incentive in the form of some quest they’re trying to complete. Maybe they have to attend some sort of festival together as a part of their noble duties. How do they feel about all those little buildups to the fact that someday they may have to get married? I feel like they may initially come at it from the perspective of engagement being a part of the game, but then slowly start to feel the weight of their responsibilites since their engagement has real impact on their new families.

I’m also basic and always there for those two no-lifes abusing game lore and mechanics. Feel free to go wild with some orginal adventure or side-quest

Yuder Bayel | Outboxer009

I would really love a look into Yuder’s struggles with his illness. It’s one thing to struggle a bit with the gameplay and another to actually have to live through an affliction that leaves you very weakened. He acts pretty nonchalant about it when interacting with Cordelia, but is he really that unaffected? He mentions spending the first two days of his new life as Yuder bedridden and that must be one terrible first impression of the new world.

I’d also enjoy seeing more off his interactions with Maia and his family. How exactly does he feel about suddenly having a new family? Is he managing to balance everything or is he putting up a front? How well is he adjusting to actually using a sword?

Cordelia Chace | Sandstorm

I love that out of the two protagonists she’s the brawns of the team despite being the mage, more prone to choosing direct violence. It’s also obvious that she still carries hangups about being forever second in the rankings. Is her new situation helping her slowly overcome those issues or are they getting worse? How does she feel about actually being able to use magic?

What was her initial reaction to becoming Cordelia? Was she happy to become a character she loves or despaired thinking of all the tragedies that awaited her in the near future? What did she think of her engagement before she discovered that Yuder was Outboxer009?

AUs and ships

I prefer no setting changes for this story, but would be up for some canon divergences both befor and after the start of the story. Maybe Outboxer009 and Sandstorm accidentally met in real life (but didn’t realize that). Maybe the events they encounter after being transported the to the game worlds aren’t actually identical with the game and they run into complications due to that. Also please consider - status effect shenanigans.

I ship Cordelia/Yuder and Maia/Dalia

MACHIKADO MAZOKU (ANIME)

I watched both anime seasons, but haven’t read the manga yet. Please don’t spoil developments that weren’t yet in anime.

All three characters don’t have to be included, but I want the story to focus on at least two of them. I like the relationships both as platonic and romantic and would be equally happy for genfic or shipfic

Chiyoda Momo & Yoshida “Shamiko” Yuuko

Do I even need to explain? Those two are just perfect together - a depressed magical girl finding love and acceptance with very clumsy demon who makes the dark side look way more tempting than it ever should have been.

I’m definitely here for both Shamiko trying to pull Momo out of depression through her “evil” schemes and for some more serious plot. Whether it be cute moments of bonding or Shamiko proving her worth when her friends or family are in danger, I’m here for it.

I would be up to more outings of those two. Maybe they go to aquarium or movies? Or maybe Momo requires more mental support and has Shamiko dive into her dreams (this time consensually) to help her deal with some sort of bad memory or recurring nightmare. What if some rouge demon or magical girl came into town and started causing trouble? How would our duo resolve it? Are there more secrets left behind by Momo’s sister than need to be solved?

Chiyoda Momo & Lico 

I love that despite all the animositiy Lico has towards magical girls she's still clearly willing to help Momo, even if she does prank her in the process. I'd love to see the process of Lico slowly warming up to her. Obviously, she only helps her at first, because of Shamiko, but I feel like she does start to appreciate Momo on her own, even if it mostly manifest through pranks and attempts at making Momo eat weird things.

I'd love any scenario where Shamiko is busy/sick/indisposed and Momo and Lico have to join forces to deal with whatever weird thing is happening in town, because they feel indebted to Shamiko. I'd love all the banter they'd get up to. Or maybe they just try to throw a surprise party for Shamiko, but keep trying to one up each other which results in a whole lot of shenanigans.

Yoshida “Shamiko” Yuuko & Lico

I would love some work shenanigans and maybe a more extended look on Shamiko's newfound career. How much Lico helps her and how much does she leave Shamiko to struggle on her own? How do they handle more problematic guests? Are there regulars that Shamiko had to interact more regularly with? Are there times when Lico's culinary experiments cause some unintended side effects for clients?

Yoshida “Shamiko” Yuuko & Chiyoda Momo & Lico

I really loved the addition of Lico to the cast. She’s such an chaos element, because at one moment she’s extremly useful and the second she’ll be trying to spike your food with suspicious herbs. Just 100% trickster fox and I love her for that.

I found her relationship with both Shamiko and Momo extremely compelling. She’s a bit of a cunning senpai for Shamiko, obviously happy to teach her, but definitely not above a harmless prank here and there. On the other hand, there’s Momo, who visibly reminds Lico of her bad experiencess in the past, but at the same time she’s very willing to help Momo, but not without being very snarky about it and pranking her like there’s no tomorrow. I feel like that complex relationship between the characters is so good.

I would be curious to explore Lico’s point of view when it comes to Momo’s descent to the dark side. Is that the reason why she warmed up to Momo despite her bad experiences? Does she have some specific hangups that she needs to work through before she can truly accept her? Does Lico want to influence Shamiko’s development as a demon in some way, or is she satisfied helping her along on the path Shamiko choose herself? Does she try to teach Shamiko some of her magic? What if Lico engaged in some pranking that got out of hand and now is desperately trying to hide the truth from Shamiko and Momo by creating a fake villain?

AUs and ships

I don’t want any setting changes, but would very much enjoy other AU shenanigans. What if Sakura was still around and trying to play a matchmaker? What if something goes wrong when Shamiko dives into Momo’s dream and they end up bodyswapping? What if Momo also started working in the cafe? Time loop could be very fun for this fandom.

TOTAL FANTASY KNOCKOUT

I’m fine with story based on either anime or manga, I’m caught up with both.

Jinguuji Tsukasa

Tachibana Hinata

Childhood friends who are practically inseparable and strongly dependent on each other? That’s already perfect, but now throw into it a crazy goddess who isekais both of them, turns one of them into a girl, throws an unspecified curse, and forces those two to confront the fact that their feelings for each other might go beyond friendship? That’s beyond perfect. That’s galaxy brain and I want more of that mishmash of tropes.

I’m all about everyday interactions and weird rpg shenanigans they get into, so you can never go wrong with leaning into it. But for something else: What if at some point one of them got returned back to their original world? How would the other cope? Would they be able to establish communication between the two worlds? How would they go about reuniting?

I would love to see them taking their relationship a step further. I crave all the awkwardness that’s going to come with those two idiots trying to figure out how to admit their feelings to each other. And the inevitable defeat of any villains who get in the way of them having a moment. Will Jinguuji and Tachibana try to go on a date with a disasterous results? Will Jinguuji desperately try to find a dating manual in another world? And will they be able to enjoy a romantic moment without “CHARMED” status ruining it?

I also love the new development in manga with Love Goddess reappearing and messing things up even more. I’d absolutely love if you delved into those new changes!

Feel free to include any other characters, they are a colorful bunch. Though if you want a suggestion, I’m very partial to Schwartz and Shen

AUs and ships

I don’t want setting changes, though I would enjoy seeing a different spin on how those two dorks get isekaied and under what circumstances they end up inflicting the wrath of Goddess of Love. Or I would love an AU where the goddess doesn’t succeed in her first killing attempt, so she keeps trying to isekai Tachibana and Jinguuji keeps foiling her plans every time (or maybe he fails at some point?). What if the curse placed by the goddess manifests in some other ridiculous ways? What if Shwartz wormed his way into the protagonists’ party and third-wheeled like only he can?

Feel free to include any one-sided crushes from canon.

SOUSOU NO FRIEREN

I read new manga chapters as they get translated so feel free to incorporate anything from the manga that’s available in English.

Frieren

I love how this manga is a slow-paced fantasy dealing with loss and inevitable passage of time. And I love Frieren for being one of the best depictions of an elf whose long life actually affects their outlook on life and actions.

I love the intersection of Frieren’s present with her charges and the past with hero party. What other shenanigans did the hero party get into on their journey? What kind of weird magic Frieren pursued? Maybe some more insight into how they fought with demons, since Frieren seemed to have picked up a number of enemies during that time. Or Frieren's attempt at being mentor to Fern and Stark.

For some more specific prompts: maybe Frieren accidentally stumbles ona cursed item that erases her memories (or just her memories of Himmel). How would it affect her? What would the party do to help her? Or maybe a demon kidnaps someone from Frieren’s party. What if Frieren and Himmel ended up stranded in enemy terriory during their travels, having to survive. Maybe they have to pretend to be demons?

I also greatly enjoy the current manga arc and would love anything set during it. Is Frieren going to try to quell some of her regrets furing this adventure?

If you are also a fellow enjoyer of Fern/Stark, I think a story where Fern watches their budding romance and reflects on her own relationship with Himmel would be interesting. Especially if it makes her realize she had missed some very obvious flirting attempts.

AUs and ships

I’m fine with AUs as long as Frieren’s long lifespan is preserved. Her perspective is very much shaped by how long she has lived, so I wouldn’t want that aspect to change. One exception would be, a roleswap where Himmel is an elf, while Frieren is a human, and exploration of how both of them would be affected by having a different lifespan. An AU with mythological creatures or similar could also be interesting.

I would very much love Himmel/Frieren, though I also enjoy how the manga softly builds on their connection. I also enjoy the budding romance between Fern and Stark.

[clonewarswritings]

Okay, sorry if this is, like, too soon for your worldbuilding in the Squad Spouse AU but I NEED to know how Palpy’s Plot gets ruined by the Spouses™️

I don't think it's too soon at all! The Squadron Spouse AU is likely one that I'll explore non-chronologically, so I have no issue in talking about how it's going to royally FUCK with the canon of Order 66 ahead of writing anything about it specifically in a fic.

This post is also a LONG boy so it's going under a readmore, but I promise it's worth the perusal!

The problem begins with the fact that the Companion Program was created and approved by the Galactic Senate entirely without intervention from Palatine himself. It's a rogue variable, a completely unplanned part of the war, but the most dangerous thing is that Palpatine completely disregards it as being completely beneath him and his grand scheme.

So, how does it get through the Galactic Senate? In this AU, the senate and larger public eye has a semblance of sympathy for the clones even at the start of the war--maybe it's because of a rogue journalist, or maybe its just because the clones are seen as the military slaves they honestly are in the existing canon to begin with.

"Companionship is the right of any sentient being," one senator perhaps had argued, "And as long as there are people willing to make use of their skills in medicine, psychology, emergency first aid and so on, then there is no reason they can't be an asset to the Republic and a companion to its army."

The Companion Program is shuffled through the senate one way or another, and soon it becomes apparent that a large number of civilians are plenty happy to join--largely those from less wealthy or safe-guarded planets, though there's a multitude from Coruscant that apply to be part of the program as well. The applicants that make it through are those who are fairly well-prepared to deal with the fact that they are the equivalent of deployed military dependents, but it is that exact same situation that makes them a prominent culture of people within the Grand Army of the Republic.

Stress can do a lot of things to people, but in the case of war and armies, it often builds a sense of camaraderie that is impossible to develop elsewhere. Members of the Companion Program (soon casually called 'spouses') often get to know one another very well--and an entire network of relationships between spouses and the clones they're assigned to is woven from loose threads into an entire, intricate tapestry that stretches from one side of the galaxy to the other.

And it was this very network that Palpatine didn't expect--a group of people that cared about one another and the clones they had been with (for some spouses, since the start of the war), and it didn't take long before a rumor would come rumbling through: there's something wrong, stories of nightmares weaving with the offhand report of a clone who had gone berserk and tried to kill a Jedi, one spouse going missing when they tried to investigate the cause of a strange recurring headache a member of their squadron was experiencing.

It's one little piece of the puzzle after another, coming together until the conglomerate of the Companion Program--which was filled with admittedly experienced civilians across all walks of life, not to be underestimated by any means--learned the secret. The horrible, atrocious secret that was Order 66 and the implant of a control chip inside every clone that came out of Kamino; this discovery would be entirely hushed, kept to only the few who could be trusted with it while general knowledge continue to grow in what they could do to try and stop this from happening.

Spouses with medical knowledge and training enough to be allowed to operate the surgical wards started organizing secret operations to remove chips, while others passed on information they had gathered from the chips itself--going back to Kamino, to a dark plot, an order yet to be given by the very Chancellor himself.

Not every clone is able to be saved when it comes time for Palpatine to send out the call for Order 66. But, by that time in the war, when so many had done so much work in order to stop it, it means that scarcely any Jedi are killed, the clones in majority are spared from their waking nightmare, and Darth Sideous himself is exposed and tried for his crimes against the Republic.

What does this mean for the world afterwards? Who knows! I'd like to say that Anakin doesn't ever betray the order and instead goes on to try and reform some of their doctrine with backing from many others of his peers. The clones are slowly merged into the civilian populace, though not without plenty of challenges to be explored. It's not a perfect ending, but it's at least a better one!

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

[mcugiggles]

Shame

I never see fics that are just a conversation about tickling, so I thought I’d make this!

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Loki has a conversation with the youngest resident of the avengers tower.

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Loki’s temporary stay in the avengers tower was unexpected to say the least. Thor’s decision was barely mutually agreed upon, but Loki needed a place to stay, and Stark’s tower had plenty of extra space.

You had avoided running into the prince for as long as possible in fear of perhaps angering him, or getting into trouble, but something was bound to happen sometime.

Stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes, and keeping the light off for comfort of your tired body, you went in search of a snack. Opening cabinets and the fridge, you found yourself staring at a box of cheezits on the top shelf of the cupboards. You were in truth not too short, but living in a billionaires house meant big rooms and tall cabinets.

Huffing, you reached up as high as you could, but couldn’t possibly reach the box. Now that you were awake, you refused to settle for anything but cheezits. It was the middle of the night, so no one was up to your knowledge, meaning no one could come help you.

Maybe Stark has a ladder. The thought was held in your head for a moment before you turned around, breath hitching at the site in front of you.

Long dark hair, green eyes, and a smirk, all belonging to the handsome prince of Asguard.

“Hello, young one. Do you need help?”

Immediately realizing how underdressed you were compared to him, your face turned red, standing there in your big bird pajamas.

“I- I was just gonna get the cheezits.”

“Allow me to help” Loki said with a smile, walking forward.

“No no, you don’t have to.” Despite your protests, you moved to make space for him, and he easily fetched the box for you.

“Thank you.” You mumbled as you grabbed them from his hands.

“You’re very welcome, darling.” He said with another quick smile, walking back where he was standing before.

“So… why are you up so late?” You asked after only a moment of quiet.

“No one is up, or so I thought.”

Not knowing how to respond, you nodded your head a little and looked down at the cheezits. You weren’t very hungry anymore.

“And why are you up?” He asked you. He spoke to you with a layer of what sounded like sarcasm, as if he didn’t actually care to hear your response.

“Umm, I got hungry.” You replied, not looking him in the eyes, which you realized were a nice shade of green.

“Well, you don’t seem to be hungry now.” He was right. You lost your appetite among the awkwardness of the situation. Possibly you were making a bigger deal out of this than you needed to, but it was hard not to be embarrassed in what looked like children’s pajamas, despite the fact that you are a child, in front of a very handsome prince.

“I- I guess not.” You risked a glance at his face, only to be met with a sly smile and your heart beating rapidly. You quickly moved your gaze to the table.

“I never introduced myself. I- I’m (y/n).” You held out your hand for him to shake, but he only held it.

“And I am Loki, of Asguard.” With that he kissed the back of your hand, causing you to blush and avert your gaze.

He chuckled at the site, a shy young girl, clad in big bird pajamas, embarrassed by a simple greeting.

How sweet. He thought.

“Well, hello Loki.” You said nervously. After a moment of silence, you stood from your chair, heart racing, and attempted to push it in, but your foot got caught, making you fall into the black haired god.

Loki’s immediate reaction was to grab you, as he didn’t want you to get injured, and almost in slow motion he caught you under the arms before you could crack your head open.

The sudden stop and feeling under your arms made you tense, heart racing even faster, and no matter how much you tried to push out a “thank you”, you were simply too shocked.

Not to mention ticklish.

A squeak left your mouth as you tried to stand up on your own, pushing your feet on the ground, a smile threatening to break out upon your face.

“I- I- thank you, Loki. I’m good- I’m good.” You stutter out, feeling like a complete mess, the flush in your cheeks brighter than a light bulb.

Loki allowed you to stand on your own, amused at your embarrassment, watching you stand awkwardly.

“Are you ticklish?”

Wide eyes. Red face. Breath quickening. The usual. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, trying anything, anything at all to stray away from the inevitable.

“It’s okay. I won’t tickle you.”

Doubt and relief wash over you at the same time, battling each other in your head. Your breathing slows slightly, but your face is still a bright red. With a simple statement, so many emotions make their way to the front. Disappointment? You should not be disappointed that the god of Mischief will not peruse such childish behavior, and why would you want him to anyways? There’s embarrassment, why would you want him to? It’s not like you like it. And there’s the guilt and shame. Are you weird for this? Is this weird? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable if he were to ever find out you find joy in something so trivial, which you don’t, thank you very much.

Amidst your panic, you realized he had been watching you, almost observing you. His green eyes were a comfort in a sea of worry. They grounded you. His cheekbones were a pleasant distraction, too.

“Why do you feel so much shame?” He knew why you felt so much shame, but he wanted to understand it more. He felt a need to take away this anxiety, understand it more thoroughly.

“I- what? Shame?” Confusion took over your body, tilting your head and knitting your brows together. How did he know you felt something just by looking at you?

“I know you feel shame for enjoying tickling. Why is that? Are you embarrassed?”

Loki knew magic. Loki could read minds. He could work his way into your head just by looking at you, not dissimilar to the way he worked his way into your heart just by existing.

You felt fear, shame, so much shame, and even more embarrassment. “I- I promise it’s nothing weird, really! I was just thinking, and I was thinking too much, and then I thought about other stuff and I eventually just worried myself-“

Your ramblings were cut short by Loki interrupting you. “No need to feel embarrassed. I know you don’t want to make other people uncomfortable. Don’t worry, darling, you’re not making me uncomfortable.” He said with his soothing, quiet voice. You calmed down immediately, drawing slightly closer to him.

“I- I just think it’s cute…” You mumble quietly.

After a moments of hesitation, he answered with a smirk, “Well, that’s quite adorable.”

You look up to see his expression, face heating at his words. You scowl at him, barely able to meet his eye. “Shut up.” You say, sounding more like a child than you already are.

To Loki, you were a young girl with a scowl like a puppy, and one of the most adorable things he’d seen on earth. He’d have to ask Thor if they can keep it.

“Well now you’re embarrassed, which just further proves my point.” He was saying this just to rile you up, but it ended up working.

“Ugh, stop.” You complain while putting your burning face in your hands. A nervous giggle slipped through, only entertaining him more.

“What was that? A giggle? No one is even tickling you!” He said, walking closer to you.

You remove your hands from your face, saying, “I need to go to bed, Loki”, not once looking at his face.

“Well then, you sleep tight, Darling.” He says with a wink, allowing you to leave the kitchen with a red face.

Loki watched as you walked to your room, nervousness splayed across your body. No doubt in his mind did he think you were adorably precious.

[the-l-spacer]

Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

- 

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

- 

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Geometry of a Triangle

I found a few hours of quiet time and what better way to spend them than to revisit that beautiful thing called, “Triangle” ...

It’s a standalone and I’ll be tagging @today-in-fic ...

:)

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh, brother.”

With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”

“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”

The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”

Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.

She really fucking hated panic mode.

Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.

Whatever.

She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.

And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye  given mortal embarrassment.

She needed a vacation.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, many deep breaths later, she was back at his door, numbered 342 in the grand scheme but from her last count, it was hospital room number 206, give or take; she also counted emergency room curtained off areas as rooms so her count might be a little skewed.

Walking back in without knocking, she thought maybe he’d be asleep and she could do her thing and go home to warm bed, fragrant bath, cup of hot chocolate, not necessarily in that order. He wasn’t asleep, however, instead looking up at her, tracking her as she carefully shut the door, turned, crossed her arms, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“I had to get rid of them before I could …” her voice cracked here, tears rushing to the surface, falling freely down her cheeks in under a second.

Mulder tried to get up but was forced back down by gravity and dizziness, so instead, he reached out his hand, “come here. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“If you wouldn’t do such stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t have to cry.” Swiping her face, the torrent already slowing to a trickle, she sniffed hard, “maybe you’re like a puppy. You need a good swat every now and then in order to learn not to put me through this crap.”

Beside his bed by now, he reached his hand out, hooking it in the pocket of her jacket, “I have never intentionally set out to make you cry. I swear.”

Growling at him, she dried her face one last time with her fingers, looking down at him, “did you really say earlier that you loved me? How many drugs are you on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You should know. You’re the doc, doc.”

Moving to see his chart again, she zoned in on the narcotics area, perusing then sifting through her memory, “looks like plenty. More than enough to say all kinds of incriminating things.”

Looking at her sheepishly, “did I really say ‘I love you’ though?”

And her heart jumped then sank, bobbed back to the surface and sank again, “you don’t remember?” He looked innocently guilty and she tilted her head at him, “I won’t hold it against you then.”

“Thanks.”

Moving back to his side, she pulled the chair over, slotting her feet in the undercarriage of the bed and settling back, head comfortable after a moment, Mulder’s fingers wiggling in her direction, his discreet invite to hold his hand while they fell asleep.

She both hated and loved their routines.

“I really am sorry I always make you cry.”

“I can’t imagine this life without you, Mulder, such as it is.” Thinking back to all the times she’d cried for him, both inside and out, “I have often wished that my stress levels weren’t congruent to the production of my tear ducts but they are and we have both learned to live with that.”

“I still hate that I make you cry.”

Squeezing his fingers, “go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

&&&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, she expected him to be deep in dreamland but looking in his direction once she realized she didn’t hear his whistle-snoring nose, she saw his eyes open, staring intently at her, studying form and function of his Scully, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Trying to ignore my headache while I think about a few things.”

Dusk was dropping outside, their room growing dim and soft, her voice quiet across the vast region between them, “what kinds of things?”

“Nazis and Thor’s hammer and shiny red dresses.”

He must be wandering his delusions again and she figured, why not wade in with him, “were the Nazis wearing the red dresses?”

“No, thank God but you were.”

“I was wearing a shiny red dress? How did I look?”

“If I answer that question, you’ll hit me again.”

Maybe she shouldn’t play into his medication after all, “well, why don’t you go to sleep and dream about things and tomorrow, we will get another head scan.”

The side of his face ached from her 1939 clenched fist and deciding to go for broke, given he knew she’d chock up anything he said to drug-addled haze, “your hair was slicked back, pin-curled, perfect even as we ran up and down the halls, thwarting Nazis and trying to find a way to get me home.” Continuing when all she did was tilt her head, listening with both ear and he hoped, heart, “you saved the world in a knee-length dark red dress and heels and,” pinpoint focus on her darkening blue eyes, “you looked more beautiful than I’ve ever deserved to see you.”

Oh, she could so easily be dragged into his delirium … dream … reality …

This was headed to a bad place and she needed to stop the train before she got fully onboard, believing every last word falling from his lips, “I always thought I looked pretty good in my pajama pants and Yosemite Sam t-shirt.”

“That’s my t-shirt, by the way.”

Returning to lightness even as her heart pounded unexpectedly in her chest, “you say yours, I say mine. I keep it. We both win.”

“How do I win?”

Was she really going to say it?

“Because you get to see me in it.”

She said it.

“If I ever find that red dress, Scully, I’m buying it and you’re wearing it and we’re going out on the town to make sure everyone sees you in it. There’ll be so many guys falling at your feet, you won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’ll just stand there and let them swoon?”

“And then you’ll come home with me.”

She felt the blush blooming across her chest and crawling up her face, “you need to go to sleep, Mulder. As both your doctor and your …” she hesitated without understanding why, partner seeming cold, friend seeming inadequate, anything other distinction making her blush even more, “you need to get some sleep, Mulder and so do I.” Standing quickly, squeaking chair legs against tile, “I should probably go. I’ll pick up some clothes for you and bring them back tomorrow when they release you, okay?”

She still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Odd.

In fact, her fingers were firmly joined with his, zippered closed, thumb stroking thumb.

Very odd.

“Hey, Scully,” tugging her hand so she moved towards him, she leaned across the bar of the bed once again.

“Yes?”

“Be with me tonight. Spring me from this place and take me home and hover and feed me meds and check my stitches and just … be with me.”

Another ‘oh, brother’ should have risen up her throat, fallen to his ears but instead, she leaned in even more, “let me go find a doctor.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was finagling and promising and coercion to the highest levels but in the end, she helped him off the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, setting him on the bed, taking in his weary eyes, his pale face, “you look terrible.”

Not able to argue such a valid point, “could you find me something to wear, please? I feel like I’m about to die or at the very least, begin having hallucinations of pink elephants playing poker in the corner.”

Not about to dispute the obvious, pink elephants fairly likely at this point in their day, “can you sit up for a second or do you want to lay down while I find things?”

Hands firmly gripping mattress edge, “I’ve got it. Just don’t leave.”

She’d return to that statement later on but for now, “I’ll be back.”

At the dresser, she pulled out stuff for both of them, missing the Yosemite Sam shirt but happy with her find of ‘Sit on it, Potsie’ black, frayed glory. Soon, she was back beside him, gently pulling his shirt over his head, wincing along with him when she passed the collar over his bruise-darkening eye. Pants weren’t too difficult, Scully holding his arm for balance while he dropped scrubs and pulled up ratty sweatpants, “remind me not to follow any ghosts ships in the near future.”

“No.”

He smiled as best he could but most of his energy and being was wrapped up in desperate need to lay down, go to sleep, rid his head of the terrible pounding that had wedged itself behind his eyes, “did you bring drugs home with you?”

“Several. What color do you want?”

“Rainbow me up, please? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Drugs swallowed, Scully changed – he would comment on her shirt at some point in the evening – and after tucking him in, she turned out the light but came back to his side, “I’m going to go sleep out on the couch, okay? Do you need anything?”

Even through pain and wavering reality, “be with me, remember? The couch is too far.” Indicating over his shoulder, eyes already closing for longer and longer intervals, “I have plenty of room behind me, softest mattress in the place, I promise.”

She could seriously just wait two minutes then go out to the couch, he’d never know but Scully being Scully, especially tonight, especially now, especially here, “okay but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m kicking back.”

Slurred, sleepy, “I’ll try not to kiss you in your sleep, promise.”

Nearly correcting him, she instead checked the front door locks one more time, then, incremental debate later, folded back the covers opposite him, sheets cool, pillow shockingly comfortable. She’ll admit it, she may have let out a slight, happy, back of the throat groan when her head sank down into it.

This pillow may have to go the way of Yosemite.

&&&&&&&&&&

Never expecting to fall asleep so quickly, she had no idea she had until she found herself blinking, eyes rolling and lids sticky. Concept of time had disappeared, clock telling her it was after 2 am but mind firmly believing she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Wondering what had woken her, she turned to her other side, coming face to face with Mulder, still asleep but hand twitching, searching.

He must have touched her back while he moved and taking his wandering fingers, she was surprised when he bought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I should have kissed you again after you hit me.”

Wondering if he was still dreaming, “Mulder?”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide awake like she’d never seen him, “You saved the world and I should have kissed you again.”

“You kissed me?”

Smiling, his eyes closed, drifting back to dreams, “and I want to do it again.”

Still back on the last statement, “you kissed me?” He answered with a deep sigh, sleep capturing the conversation in limbo and driving her forward, 2 am a thing of both beauty and shadow, she maneuvered to get her lips to his, a light brush, a tentative touch, a fleeting taste, “I love you, too, Mulder.”

[brasskier]

Chapter 3 of my modern AU holiday fic series is up, and this one is the much-anticipated Jewish!Ciri chapter.

Hanukkah 2018, or The One Where Jaskier Conquers Judaism (A Year in Review):  When Jaskier discovers Ciri's birth mother is Jewish, he's determined to help her keep in touch with her heritage. He tries - and oftentimes fails - throughout the year to provide her this connection. Maybe he'll finally get it right for Hanukkah.

Find it on my ao3, or keep reading below the cut:

It all began with an offhand comment from Geralt not long before the new year. It was burger night, one of the few nights Geralt was actually around to cook. Most evenings Yennefer prepared dinner, or else they were left with one of the handful of dishes Jaskier could reliably not burn. And when he called into the living room for everyone's cheese preference - cheddar for Jaskier, pepper jack for Yen - Ciri had asked for a slice of American on hers. And Geralt had huffed a laugh, bemusedly muttered,

"That's not kosher." And for whatever reason, the statement attracted Jaskier like a moth to light. Before Geralt knew what was happening he'd flitted into the kitchen, pressed his elbows on the island counter and leaned forward.

"What's not kosher?" It sounded like an innocent enough question, but the shit-eating smirk on Jaskier's face said otherwise.

"Cheeseburgers," Geralt shrugged, returning his attention to the stove. Jaskier raised an eyebrow, dropped his chin into his hands. "Her mother was Jewish. Clearly not that Jewish, though." 

"Huh." And that was the end of the conversation, except the wheels were already spinning in Jaskier's head. He knew very little about Judaism, but he did know it was matrilineal, making Ciri, by birth, a Jew. And, just like that, Jaskier had found his new year's resolution. 

Jaskier was by no means a religious man. He loved his Hallmark holiday Christmas, but that was about the extent of it. He was certainly not a Jew. But how hard could it be, he figured. If he found a way to celebrate Christmas and Easter without really knowing what he was doing, he could surely find a way to give Ciri a slice of her heritage. 

Shabbat seemed like a reasonable place to start. Light some candles on Friday night, take a much-needed break from tech, have some challah. Except, Jaskier was no ordinary parent; he was going to go above and beyond for his lion cub and bake his own challah. 

This was mistake number one. 

The challah caught fire in the oven. He only had a split second to react before that godforsaken fire alarm went blaring, sending Yennefer trudging down the stairs to inspect the situation. Thank god Ciri's school let out later than the high school. He yanked the charred bread from the oven, sustaining a neat little burn on the inside of his wrist that he'd have to find an excuse to explain away later. 

"I'm going to try again," he declared, more to himself than anyone else, his wrist held under the running faucet. Yennefer shook her head, busying herself rummaging through their first-aid kit. 

"You're no cook, Jask." She turned the faucet, dabbed carefully at his arm with a paper towel. "Just go to the store and buy one. Ciri won't know the difference." His face fell, and he rubbed at his jaw with his free hand.

"But I will." She spread a glop of antibiotic ointment over the wound, trying her best not to scratch him with vampire-red nails. 

"You better not burn the house down," was all she had left to add, smoothing the band-aid over his skin.

The second challah (mistake number two), thankfully, did not catch fire. It did, however, refuse to rise, remaining a goopy mess in the bottom of the pan. Yennefer shuffled back through the kitchen again, presumably just to tease him further. A quick glance at the clock informed him he had just enough time for a third try before Ciri came careening in from the bus. Yennefer not-so-subtly recommended he go to the store yet again.

The third challah (mistake number three) did not catch fire. It didn't refuse to rise, either. Instead, it simply exploded, sending half-baked shards of bread splattering all over the interior of their oven. Geralt was going to kill him. Hell, he still didn't have a challah to show for his labors, and Ciri was going to kill him. With a beleaguered sigh, he shuffled on his coat, yanked his keys from their hook in the foyer, and called up to Yennefer that he was running to the store. 

After nearly wrecking his car in a race against the school bus and almost cracking his head open on the counter in a dash to make it to the kitchen, Jaskier finally had a beautiful, golden-brown challah waiting on the table. Well, actually, two challahs. He wasn't sure if he should get the regular one or the kind with raisins and, not wanting to mess up any more than he already had, he bought both just to be safe. 

He wasn't sure the hug Ciri flung herself into when she caught sight of the rolls waiting for her was well-deserved, but he found his voice wavering with the threat of tears anyway as he stumbled through the blessings over the candles. On the bright side, Kiddush was a fantastic excuse for a glass of wine. With a joyful b'tayavon, they tore into the challah. Yen was right; Ciri didn't know the difference.

Purim was early in 2018, on the first of March. This was, admittedly, something he knew very little about. But he did know that there were services for Purim, so he perused Google until he found a nearby synagogue that welcomed non-members. Perhaps it would've been better advised to reach out ahead of time, but Jaskier was never really one to plan in advance. 

This was mistake number four. 

He dug out one of the suits he reserved for parent-teacher conferences, enlisted Yennefer's help in wrestling Ciri into a sparkly yellow dress with more ties and zippers than Jaskier knew what to do with (mistake number five), and loaded her into the car before heading off. The first thing he noticed upon crossing the threshold was the costumes. A Batman sprinted past him, followed by an Optimus Prime, while a Princess Anna shouted after them. He glanced from the costumed children, down to his dolled up lion cub, and then back up. Fuck. A sympathetic father wriggled away from his wife and approached him, sticking out a hand for Jaskier to shake.

"You're new, aren't you?" He asked, and Jaskier nodded slowly.

"She, uh… her mom's Jewish," he muttered, tilting his head towards Ciri. She beamed up at the man.

"Papa is learning how to be Jewish for me because Momma celebrates Diwali and Daddy doesn't like holidays," she declared, and Jaskier tightened his grip on her hand. He was humiliated enough as it was; the last thing he needed was to explain his unusual family arrangement to a total stranger. The man quirked an eyebrow at her before returning his attention to Jaskier.

"She's a charmer, isn't she?" He laughed before gesturing towards a redheaded little girl around Ciri's age in a Wonder Woman costume. "That's my little girl, Eliana." Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.

"This is Ciri." She waved up at them with her free hand. "And I'm Jaskier." 

"David." Jaskier shook his hand again, not really certain whether he'd already done so. "Well, I think it's awfully sweet that you're trying to learn for her. But for future reference, the kids usually wear costumes." Jaskier wanted to ask whether that applied strictly to Purim or services in general, but didn't care to embarrass himself further.

The service itself was not terribly long, which was a blessing, because it was entirely in Hebrew. Ciri, for what it's worth, seemed more entertained than him, enraptured by the opportunity to make as much noise as possible at the antagonist, Haman's, name. On the bright side, they got plenty of hamantaschen afterwards, and Jaskier was very grateful that he hadn't had the thought to try to bake them on his own.

Jaskier didn't know much about Jewish holidays, but he did know that Passover was pretty important, and that it was his opportunity to really test his mettle. It was perfect; he loved to entertain, and what was a Seder but one big dinner party. Valdo Marx, his distressingly put-together PTA arch-nemesis/band director of his biggest rival high school, had extended him an invitation to his massive yearly Seder, because "it's tradition to invite literally anyone ." Jaskier refused. 

This was mistake number six. 

The occasion started to unravel when he found out his parents couldn't make it, but he pressed on anyway (mistake number seven). He decided to cook for the occasion (mistakes number eight through twelve), but the matzo balls came out soggy and underdone, he cut himself slicing apples for charoset, the brisket ended up overcooked and rubbery, his potato kugel was a bland, tasteless mess, and he even managed to mess up hard-boiled eggs. No matter, he could surely just go to the store. But then Yennefer texted that she'd gotten caught up in City Hall and wouldn't make it back in time, and Geralt had work that night, and two did not a Seder make.

Jaskier tucked his tail between his legs and texted Valdo to belatedly take up his invitation. Along the way he ran in for a bottle of Manischewitz (mistake number thirteen). At least he'd checked the internet to make sure Ciri didn't need to be in costume for this holiday. Valdo leered at the bottle of wine he shoved into his hands as he shuffled through the door with Ciri in tow. Go figure, on the table sat an array of much more expensive (and tasty) wines. 

When it came time to recite the Ma Nishtana , Valdo scanned the room before his gaze settled on Jaskier and Ciri tucked away in the corner.

"Cirilla," he asked, "how old are you?" 

"Seven!" She provided eagerly, and Jaskier decided he needed to have a conversation with her when they got home about how it's sometimes okay to lie, actually. 

"That makes you the youngest child," Valdo continued. "Go for it." Ciri, very clearly, wasn't all too sure what exactly she was supposed to be going for, and Jaskier's heart sank. "The four questions?" Valdo elaborated, as if that would be of any help. At her continued and increasingly distressed silence, Valdo set his sights on Jaskier. "Tell me you didn't forget to teach her the four questions." (Mistake number fourteen.) Jaskier shrunk back in his seat, guilt drawn across his face. He leaned to the side and whispered into Ciri's ear.

"I'll do it with you, okay?" She rubbed at the tears forming in her eyes with a small fist.

"You're not a kid," she argued back.

"Your Dad begs to differ," he laughed, tracing the transliterated text with his finger. "Come on. Let's do it together." She nodded meekly, and let her voice fall under his as they stiltedly recited the four questions.

Valdo was onto him and his abject failure as a parent, and if he hadn't been already, Jaskier was sure of it when Valdo interrupted himself just towards the end of the Seder and gestured to him.

"My dearest Jaskier here is an esteemed colleague of mine." His words dripped with sarcasm, and Jaskier felt very small. "A fellow music educator." He raised his glass as if making a toast. "Jaskier, why don't you treat us to that impeccable voice of yours and lead us in Dayenu?" He tried to escape, he really did.

"My concentration was in trombone, you know. Not choir, like our marvelous host." Oh, but Valdo insists he has a beautiful voice (which he does , thank you very much.) "I haven't gotten to warm up." No matter, Valdo assures him. Take your time. "I think I might be coming down with something." Well then he should be in bed, shouldn't he, the poor dear, Valdo interjects. Finally, Valdo's uncanny ability to shoot down every last excuse outpaces his capacity to wrack his brain for them. Thank god for the musical notation printed with both Hebrew and transliteration, and thank god for years of sight-reading practice. He hobbles his way through it, and Ciri buries her head in his side. 

The Seder is not a total bust. For one, if someone had told Jaskier a minimum of four glasses of wine were in order, he would've converted a long time ago. Second, Valdo is actually a good cook ( damn him ), and his matzo balls are round and fluffy. Third, Ciri found the afikomen and all of Jaskier's transgressions were swiftly forgotten. She was asleep in her car seat before he'd even pulled out of Valdo's driveway. He decides to write the evening off as a wash and vows to do better next year.

Rosh Hashanah is the next holiday to roll around that he thinks is significant enough to bother with. And it's simple enough, right? Some challah, apples and honey, a few blessings? He can surely do that. Hell, how could he mess it up? 

He entirely writes off the prospect of baking his own challah and picks up one of those beautiful, braided loaves the day before. Unfortunately, no one at the kosher bakery thought to warn him that Rosh Hashanah challah should be round, so he has to run back to the store and get another one the next morning (mistake number fifteen). 

He cuts himself slicing the apples. Again. (Mistake number sixteen.) Perhaps, Geralt warns him, his knife privileges should be revoked. Except, this time, the cut won't stop bleeding. Spending Rosh Hashanah in the ER with Yennefer mercilessly teasing him the whole way through had not been part of his plans. Six stitches later, Yen swings by the grocery store and picks up a pack of pre-sliced apples on their way home while Jaskier slips in and out of sleep in the passenger's seat, and prays Geralt hasn't put Ciri to bed yet.

Ciri is wide awake when he sheepishly steps through the front door, curled up with Geralt on the couch and already in her pajamas. He leans over the two, plants a kiss on each of their foreheads. 

"Sorry, princess," he muttered, slumping onto the couch next to her. She smiled, wriggled free from Geralt's arm and pressed against his chest. "So much for Rosh Hashanah."

"It's okay." She tugged at his hand. "Can I see it?" She asked, gesturing towards the bulky bandage wrapped around his left hand. He held it out for her to inspect while Geralt reminded her to be gentle. "Did it hurt?" He couldn't help but laugh.

"It did. Which is why we don't let you use the big knife." And why Jaskier also probably shouldn't be allowed to use it either. 

"Who said Rosh Hashanah had to be cancelled?" Yennefer emerged from the kitchen with a plate full of sliced apples, round challah, and honey, shifting onto the couch next to Geralt. Ciri leapt up, elbowing both Geralt and Jaskier in the process, and devoured the plate eagerly. Maybe it wasn't entirely a bust, after all. Just no more apple slicing moving forward.

Yom Kippur is a big deal. Like, a really big deal, and very serious. Jaskier knows it's not exactly the holiday Ciri is looking forward to, but he has to prove he's serious. It's very important. So, he decides they're going to services.

This was mistake number seventeen.

Step one is waking up at the crack of dawn, dragging himself out of bed, and making an entire pot of coffee before he remembers he's supposed to be fasting (mistake number eighteen) and can't actually drink it. Step two requires digging the suit up again and stopping Yen on her way out the door so she can fix his tie. Step three is to rouse Ciri, singlehandedly deal with the inevitable meltdown that accompanies waking an eight-year-old early on a day off from school (mistake number nineteen), and enviously watch her devour breakfast before the inevitable battle of getting her into a dress. 

The service is long . It is boring. It is entirely in Hebrew. And it is certainly not designed with hyperactive elementary schoolers (or their starving, restless parents) in mind. After the third time he thinks it's finally ending, only for the Rabbi to launch back into prayer again, Ciri starts to get especially antsy.

"I need to use the potty," she tells him urgently in that whisper-shout that is a trademark of youth. Fine, he can handle that. He shimmies her through rows of enraptured attendees, waits like a sentinel outside the door to the women's room, and then tiptoes back in. 

"Papa, I'm hungry." Not exactly something to announce to a room full of people who can't eat, but so be it. Another hushed escape, a quick munch on the Goldfish he'd been smart enough to pack, and then their cautious reentry. 

"Papa, I'm bored." There's not exactly much he can do about that, so he shuffled his phone out of his pocket as discretely as possible, makes absolutely certain the volume is off, and passes it off to her. Unfortunately, this is only a temporary solution, and she's squirming in her seat before long. "Papaaa, I'm reeeally bored." 

"Just a little longer, lion cub," he assures her. He should've fled while he still had the chance to do so with dignity and grace, but he's sure it must nearly be done, and they can brave it out (mistake number twenty). This is, apparently, the very worst decision he could make. It is not, in fact, nearly done.

"Papaaa!" She's getting increasingly louder, wriggling around with increasing intensity. That heart-melting, will-bending pout of hers is drawn on her lips. This is decidedly not good. "I wanna go home!" That one was loud enough to turn a few heads, which means it's definitely time to go.

"Okay, okay," he attempts to placate her, "we're going now." But it's too late. The tears are coming. 

"Now!" That one's nearly enough to grind the whole service to a halt. He does the only thing he can think to do: tuck her under his arm, scurry through the aisle, and run. 

He feels dizzy and especially winded by the time they reach the car, and he's not exactly sure why. All he knows is that Ciri needs to please stop crying for a moment so he can catch his breath. It must be a Yom Kippur miracle (do those exist?) when she relents, jerking a hand free and placing it against his cheek.

"Are you okay?" Her voice is so tiny he nearly doesn't hear it.

"I'm fine, kiddo, just gimme a sec." He leans heavily back against the car, Ciri still clung around his chest. The dizziness passes just as quickly as it came on, and he hurries home eagerly, relieved when Ciri dozes in the back seat. 

They cozy up on the couch while Geralt mows the lawn outside, and spend the rest of their day off watching a movie - Ciri's choice, which is Moana, no surprise. He's sick to death of the movie but he sings along with every last song anyway. Damn that Lin-Manuel Miranda can write a catchy tune. 

Jaskier has all but forgotten about the earlier dizzy spell when the front door clicks open and a very sweaty Geralt parades inside, Yennefer, fresh home from work, on his heel. Which is why he really doesn't understand what's happening when he rises to greet them and the whole room tilts with him. He wavers, eyes squeezed shut and hand pressed against his face in a desperate attempt to will his head to stop spinning. It's no use, and before he can even go to sit back down he's careening forwards. 

His eyes fluttered open to a sharp prick on his hand, a high-pitched beep, and a total stranger hovering over him. He startled, fighting to prop himself up in a sitting position, but a firm hand he recognized could only be Geralt's forced him back to the ground. 

"The fuck's going on?" He managed to ask, and his own voice sounded oddly far away. He scanned the room for clues as to what could possibly be happening and settled on Yennefer's face just as she shot him a glare that he knew translated to watch your language. 

"You passed out, Jask." Geralt, somewhere overhead and out of view. "Hit your head good on the coffee table." Well, that would explain the pounding headache.

"And he is…?" He gestured vaguely at the stranger only visible in his peripheral.

"An EMT, sir," the man supplied, shifting back into view and shining a flashlight in his eyes. 

"Ah." He blinked reflexively, wincing at the fingers that firmly held his eye open. "You didn't have to call an ambulance, you know." 

"I didn't." Of course Geralt didn't, the man would probably gladly perform an appendectomy in the back of the bar at which he worked. It had to be Yennefer.

"Wasn't me." He considered for a moment if she could read his mind or if he was accidentally saying everything aloud before shakily remembering that he had a betrayingly expressive face. Well, if it wasn't Geralt, and it wasn't Yennefer…

"They taught us at school to call 911 if there's ever an emergency," Ciri casually explained. He couldn't help but smile. His little lion cub looking out for him, it made him feel warm.

"Alright," the paramedic commandeered his attention, helping shift him upright and propping him against the couch. "You're not diabetic, correct?" He nodded, which was a mistake, because silver stars erupted in his vision. "Your blood pressure is a little on the low side and you're pretty hypoglycemic. When did you last eat?" Oh, yeah. Fuck .

"Last night? It's Yom Kippur, I'm fasting…" He felt thoroughly, indescribably humiliated. He tries to be a good dad/surrogate Jew, and this is what he gets. As they say, no good deed goes unpunished.

"Happy new year," the EMT offered earnestly. A bottle was pressed into his hand, and he shakily raised it to his lips and drank without even questioning it. Whatever it was, it was incredibly sweet. "Some fast-acting carbs and a good meal should sort that out, but I'd still recommend you go in, just to rule out a concussion." He sipped some more on the mystery beverage and was fully prepared to politely decline when he felt small arms wrap around his shoulder.

"Fine." The second Jewish holiday in a row spent in the ER, just what he wanted . He was going to start racking up frequent flier miles if he kept it up. And all three of them accompanied him, evidence enough that he'd clearly rattled them. At least the doctor was sympathetic, suggesting he eat a bigger meal later at night next year. (Which was giving Jaskier a lot of credit, assuming there would be a next time.) He typed out sub plans on his phone while he waited for the discharge paperwork, knowing full well he wasn't making it to work the next morning. On the bright side, he didn't have a concussion after all.

Hanukkah was his chance to finally get it right. It was Jewish Christmas, right? And he'd always been pretty good at Christmas, so surely he'd nail this one. He dug around a few shops until he found a menorah he was fond of - cast in gold and decorated with music notes and a big treble clef - and proudly set it on the kitchen counter. He even bothered to watch a few YouTube videos of the blessings over the candles, so he'd nail the melody. Finally, he had to buy gifts. Eight of them. For three people. So, twenty-four gifts. He perused the dollar store, the budget section at Target, and every clearance section he came upon until he'd collected every last gift. Even wrapped them in paper adorned with little menorahs and dreidels.

The first night finally rolled along, and he could hardly contain himself. Ciri, too, was bursting with excitement; apparently Hanukkah was the one holiday her mother ever really bothered to celebrate with her. He wedged the first candle in place, carefully lit the shamash candle, and managed to return it to its spot without burning the house down. He led them in the two blessings without so much as a crack in his voice - plus shehecheyanu, which was reserved for the first night only (if reformjudaism.org was to be trusted, which he was sure it was) - and breathed a sigh of relief when even Geralt knew better than to blow out the candles. 

Gift-giving was always one of his favorite aspects of Christmas, so watching his family tear into his tiny presents and enjoying a warm embrace from each was easily his favorite part of the evening. They played a rousing few rounds of dreidel, in which Ciri inevitably won every last piece of gelt. The latkes he'd picked up at the kosher market were delicious, and this time it didn't even take Yennefer to convince him not to try cooking them from scratch. The final piece of the puzzle was the box of jelly donuts he'd hidden away from Geralt all day. 

And yet. Something was wrong, he felt like something had to be missing. It made him uneasy. So he finally did what he probably should've done to begin with; he reached out to a Rabbi.

"Are you looking to convert?" He was not prepared for the first question from the Rabbi - an older fellow named Levi with a gentle smile and kind eyes. 

"I don't think so. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for. Just to give my daughter a connection to her heritage, I guess." He'd been caught up in the personal mission of it all, but that was truly all that mattered. "We've always kind of been the spiritual-not-religious type, Christmas-Easter only. I was hoping there was something like that in Judaism, but there's so much history. It's hard to keep track." Levi nodded sympathetically.

"Judaism is beautiful because we are more than a religion - we are a people." He smiled fondly. "If you ask me, I don't think there's a wrong way to be a Jew."

"Then how do I know I'm doing enough?" That's all he really ever wanted, was to be enough. For Ciri, for Geralt and Yennefer, for his parents, for his students. "Which holidays do I celebrate? Is it okay if I can't bake my own challah? Do I really need to drag her to Yom Kippur services? Should she be Bat Mitzvah'd?"

"You ask a lot of questions, young man," he chuckled,  and Jaskier felt his cheeks flush. "Is she happy?" 

"Yes." That was at least an easy question to answer. Every step of the way, as overwhelmed and harried as he was, she was always a constant source of joy (or, at least, most of the time).

"Then there's your answer." There's his answer. Ciri is happy, and that's all that matters. Hanukkah 2018, it seems, was a success.