#technically just a happy canon compliant thought

[lyculuscaelus]

Ok now maybe imagine if it didn’t take too long for Odysseus to finish the oar quest as instructed by Teiresias, say, a year or two (maybe three but tops I swear) from when he sailed from Ithaca to the mainland and went all the way northwards, until he at last finished the ritual and then returned once more back to his homeland.

It wasn’t a woeful journey, this time—just receiving Xenia from different cities, meeting some old faces and new faces (cue Acarnan and Amphoterus sons of Alcmaeon in Acarnania; maybe catching up with his brother-in-law Alyzeus in the city of Alyzia; maybe visiting Amphilochus in Amphilochia cuz why not; maybe helping out a young Thesprotian prince Polypoetes son of Pheidon the deceased king in a war and having to sign an adoption contract), disguising as an old man, lying his way northward—“hey look I’m just a simple Cretan but I can tell you about Odysseus if you want” (turns out all those non-Homeric traditions are stories Odysseus in disguise told to those Epirotes along the way), maybe all the way to Buthrotum where Helenus and Andromache welcomed him unaware of his identity (as he yapped about how he was a Ciconian whose hometown Ismarus was destroyed by cruel Odysseus as he was brought along the way until getting marooned in Thrinacia and something something Phoenicians and stuff) as they traded stories and ended up lamenting the fall of Troy and talking shit on Odysseus—including Odysseus himself (“fun,” says Odysseus as he continues throwing slanders on himself, “now shall I tell you how he died by some guy named Telegonus, someone born to him on Aeaea though I didn’t see anything”), maybe reaching the land of Illyrians where he heard about their history from Cadmus’s arrival to the not-so-recent Epigonoi war (and all Odysseus can think about is his bestie), maybe finding his way past the Riphean Mountains to Hyperborea where he finally performed the ritual (I mean, no ship, no salt…sounds like it).

Then maybe he’s picking a path south-east to visit some old friends (*snaps* what did you say Nauplius has done again *picks up a rock* alr say it again), maybe traversing the rest of Greece from Thessaly (didn’t see you back in war—how are y’all faring, O so many sons of Heracles?) to Mycenae (your dad sends his regards from hell, Orestes) to Argos (wait where the heck is my Diomedes) to Sparta (Menelaus: hehehehe I knew you’d make it old buddy oh btw your son has your thighs) to Pylos where Nestor finally gave him a ship to go home cuz he had no oar left (Nestor: also Peisistratus my boy I know you want to go to Ithaca for some…*coughs* specific reasons so here’s the ship and you’re the captain).

Back to Ithaca! Telemachus celebrated Odysseus’s return with joy (and was surprised by Peisistratus’s arrival). During his father’s absence he had run the kingdom well—a good job continuing to reestablish the class of nobility in Cephalonia as Odysseus willed it. Then Odysseus found Penelope waiting at the olive tree, as she met his gaze and smiled—and the world was again back into shape, for Odysseus, the great craftsman.

And this time, Odysseus finally realized he was this old, this tired, after all the years of traveling. The world of wanderings, in the end, had become too much, too far away, for the man of twists and turns. Not even the world of reality could mend the scars left in his heart, a mind forever haunted by shadows of the past. But for now, a world of home would do—it’d be everything for him, really—just a man with his family, and the peaceful days he had long craved.

So he swore to stay, here by the side of his love ones, never again to be apart. So he stayed, for the rest of his life, till death in the coming days did them part…

He’d inherit his father’s farm after old Laërtes’s death, and teach Telemachus the art of gardening, to take care of all the grape vines, fig trees, pear trees, apple trees, and…olive trees. He’d sing his tales to the new generation of Ithacan children, mentoring them on the virtues of Xenia, of bravery, of love. And he’d go back to his old habit of carving, sculpting figurines out of wood—oh, but he’d make so many wonders—the monsters of legends (that he had seen), the faces of old acquaintances (that he would never forget), the images of gods (that he had stolen)…and he’d show them all to his family, and sometimes, to his people struck by curiosity.

Meanwhile, Telemachus would be so delighted to indulge a father who had long missed the chance to raise his own child, as a son who had never got the chance to make any childhood memory with his father. And so often would they roam around in the forests, catching up days forever lost to them both. Meanwhile, Penelope would be so enamored of her husband’s passion, as the one who knew his mind best (oh, what a blessing of homophrosyne). And so often would they pace around in the farm, chattering at length from the rosy-fingered Dawn till the star-filled night…

Maybe at some point, the memories would prove to be too heavy for the old king. Days and nights his family would find him whispering commands that went unheard, words of comfort that he no longer needed—or that he needed the most. All he saw were illusions of the horror he had once witnessed. All he heard were hallucinations of the Siren song he had once heard. Maybe after all these years, ptsd had finally caught up with him. Maybe it went even worse after Penelope’s passing…

Until one day, a stranger knocked the gate of Odysseus’s palace open.

Prince Telemachus offered him food—he politely refused, asking to meet the old king right away.

Odysseus came out, fixing his gaze on the visitor’s face—it seemed foreign, yet strangely familiar—it was as if he had known him so long ago, in a place he couldn’t quite name. But the stranger only moved forward, meeting Odysseus’s eyes.

“Come,” he said gently. “Time to join the rest of them…time to join her.”

And Odysseus knew.

Turning to his son, Odysseus muttered a few words of comfort. Somehow, Telemachus knew this to be a farewell—he embraced his father one last time, smiling in tears.

The prince of Ithaca watched the two of them walk away, to the sea where the stranger came from, as he suddenly leapt, spreading a pair of wings, carrying Odysseus off quickly. Realization struck him finally.

The stranger was none other than fearful Thanatos.

So this is the Death that comes to him from the sea, in such a gentle way.

[the-godly-beef]

Gyaru Nart because why not ✨️

[slowd1ving]

ACT IV: DECAY ✦ . 　⁺ VIL SCHOENHEIT NSFW

Vil Schoenheit and second place aren't supposed to be a thing. He's supposed to be the very embodiment of perfection, so why the hell is someone else's name usurping his crown on the Potions leader board? In which our starring actor cannot quench the flames of academic rivalry and resentment that consume him, nor can he fathom the enigma that you are. gn! scientist! reader warnings: contains nsfw but only later, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for book five, canon-compliant violence

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

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MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ✧ ･

Scene I: Ink . 　⁺

It all starts again on a very dull morning. Staccato beats of the rain on the rickety windows of Ramshackle provide background music for Vil to drink his smoothie to. Except that’s not the only miserable music. His ears are assaulted by the conversation you’re currently having with Jamil, Rook and Ace. Does Grim count when he’s technically the other pea in your miserable pod?

“All I’m saying is that there’s no reason to make a movie series that long,” you argue. Whose movies are you referring to? Vil wishes he was paying attention earlier. “Like what have you got to say for that many movies?”

“Trickster, some people are just dedicated to the pursuit of their passion,” Rook intercedes, leaning his head on his hands to gaze at you more efficiently.

“The Fast and Furious franchise has no reason to be that long,” you lament, frustration creeping into your tone. Vil’s never heard of that movie series. He doesn’t think he wants to know what it is.

“Rook, there’s like nine sequels, and the last one especially does not make any sense,” Vil takes back his earlier thoughts. This seems to be a conversation between you and Rook, in which Ace and Jamil are unenthusiastic spectators. “There’s nothing less beautiful than plot holes.”

“Anyways,” you continue in the same breath, all hints of sadness gone. Vil’s not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Do you guys feel ready for the SDC tomorrow? Your routine is really impressive.”

“My bones hurt so much,” Ace groans from behind his food. “I’ve never felt so pulverised.”

“We will win,” Jamil promises you, fiddling with his spoon on the table. You give them both a cheerful thumbs up while eating - for once, you’ve got scraps of decorum.

“I will put on my most beautiful performance knowing you’re watching, mon cher,” Rook clasps your hand between his gloved ones. Sure, Rook’s probably just being himself, but Vil can’t help the trickle of unease that he feels.

“I don’t doubt it,” you respond with a grin. “Those RSA twerps won’t know what hit them. Although, I’ve had a really weird set of dream-”

“Spudling,” Vil clears his throat to get your attention. You turn to face him, still wearing your jubilant grin. His heart almost stops. It takes all he can to not fumble while taking the lanyard out of his blazer pocket. “Keep this lanyard safe so you can come backstage as the NRC Tribe Manager.”

“Cool,” you take it one handed, still allowing Rook to clasp your other hand. Why does Vil care so much? He tries desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Thanks!”

“We’ll go over the routine and iron out any wrinkles in around twenty minutes,” Vil continues, meeting the eyes of each cast member. He’ll just have to ignore whatever he’s feeling until after the SDC. “Make sure the rest of the potatoes are up and ready to go.”

The tell-tale signs of nervousness creep into Vil’s being after he exits the room. He has to beat Neige. No longer will he be cast aside to play the villain. The world will see what he’s got to offer.

“Mira mira, tell me who, at this moment, is the fairest of them all?” Vil speaks slowly and quietly to his phone as he makes his way to his room to get some items for practice.

“Neige LeBlanche.”

He should’ve expected it, really, but he cannot help but let his teeth grind slightly in anger. Just you wait, Neige. He’ll beat Neige fair and square. Finally, he’ll be able to step out of the villain’s shoes.

His muscles ache after his gruelling training. Nothing he won’t be able to recover from; he can’t help but push himself to his limits at the prospect of beating Neige. The rest of the crew somehow manages to execute a near-flawless performance, with only a few minor hand-placement errors.

“Wow,” you cheer them on by your designated spot next to the speakers, cradling Grim in your lap. “You guys are absolutely gonna shred the competition.”

“That’s right!” Ace grins at you, catching the water bottle you toss at him and taking a few enthusiastic swigs.

“Pass me one too,” Deuce reaches out as you toss another water bottle. It’s a natural cue for a break, and the crew decides to take a breather. Vil feels an absurd surge of pride at the sight; somehow, these ungainly tubers have managed to grow into shapely potatoes who can no doubt beat Neige.

“We’ll regroup in ten,” Vil instructs. He’s not satisfied completely, but the passion that’s been poured into this routine is undeniable. Before he can question his body, his legs are already taking him to you. You’re scratching behind Grim’s ears and look up in abject surprise at his approach.

“I need your opinion,” Vil murmurs, leaning down to you so your faces are in close proximity. You furrow your brows; he knows how unlikely it is that he’s approached you. Still, your analysis skills are seriously impressive. “Can you give me a detailed observation of our performance? Spare no detail.”

“Right,” you pull out your phone nonchalantly, scrolling through your gallery until you find the recording of the practice. Of course you’ve come prepared.

“Right at the beginning it’s a really strong start, but as soon as those first few seconds are up, Deuce always misplaces his hand-” Vil’s not sure when he joins you on the floor, leaning ever so slightly into you as you zoom into the areas of imperfection.

“You’ve noticed that too?” Vil comments. You murmur your assent, pressing play again.

“It’s only a slight error, but yeah,” you continue, pausing the video again where it’s Kalim’s misstep. “I think it’s just overeagerness and the adrenaline of performing. The rest of the errors are really just minor hiccups with the singing - but I won’t be able to point them out as well.”

“I’ll give them some extra individual instruction,” Vil promises, more to remind himself than reassure you. You turn to scrutinise him; it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the weight of people’s gazes, but it’s just you.

“I’ve made notes on the small, consistent screw-ups that’ve surfaced recently when it comes to dance steps. Rook and Jamil are both fine, and Epel only has one,” your shoulder brushes against him as you turn extra carefully to not disturb the snoozing Grim on your lap. You hand him your class notebook, which has been filled with quick sketches of the mistakes. Vil’s eyes widen considerably at the level of diligence you’ve afforded your role. Sure, he knows your eye for detail in science, but he never thought-

“You can borrow it for a bit,” you turn the page to show him the notes you’ve made. Then suddenly you flip back to the previous page.

“I forgot you won’t be able to read them,” you sigh in exasperation. “All that work for nothing.”

Vil is oddly touched. You’ve made extensive notes just for him? He can feel the gesture warm his cheeks as he stares down at the outreached notebook, waiting for him to take it.

“The thought is appreciated,” he thanks you, carefully placing your notebook within his lap. He’s lucky the diagrams are circled with different colours marking out areas of weakness, or he’s sure he’d get lost trying to read through the scribbled notes right next to them.

“I can always just read them out if you need me too,” you lean back on one palm, balancing your body weight as you scritch under Grim’s chin. As much as the little furball wants to deny it, he’s very clearly got the mannerisms of a cat as a large purr rumbles from him. You stifle a little giggle into your shoulder.

“That- that would be great,” it’s so unlike Vil to get flustered, but he can’t help the smile that stays on his face well into the remainder of the practice.

He can’t seem to hold onto whatever hatred he had for you.

Scene II: Rot . 　⁺

The next time he sees your face is around ten minutes before the dress rehearsal on the SDC stage. Vil can feel his already straight posture adjust itself so it’s completely perfect, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Rook, given the look the hunter shoots him. He’s ignoring that.

“They almost didn’t let me in,” you complain, striding over to Rook and waving the lanyard that’s around your neck. Vil’s not sure how they could’ve missed it, with it being what can only be described as a neon red.

“It’s good to see you regardless, mon chou,” Rook is once again clasping your hands, and once again you’re not pulling away.

“I’m going to ignore that you’ve just called me a cabbage,” you comment, looking around at the stage. The little furball that’s normally with you is nowhere to be found; Vil isn’t sure whether to be relieved that he isn’t wreaking havoc here, or whether to be worried that he’s wreaking havoc elsewhere. “Where do I sit while watching?”

“There’s actually the front seats directly next to the stage,” Vil points to the special row reserved for managers and important personnel. You unhook your hands from Rook’s to turn to where Vil’s pointing, your eyes lighting up as you see the comfortable looking chairs set up.

“Right, thanks,” you flash an extremely brief smile at both of them. It seems that whatever rivalry you had with him has been dissolved on your end. He doesn’t know if he should be insulted or happy about it. “Break both legs for both performances.”

“What?” Vil mutters to himself as you stride away enthusiastically. Maybe it’s just a saying from wherever you’re from. It’s ‘break an arm’ for performances, what are you on about? “What could that possibly mean?”

“Mr. Shoenheit, we’re about to go on air to tape your practice performance,” a cameraman apologetically interrupts Vil’s musings. He snaps to attention, letting his face fall back into the most professional poker face he can manage.

“Of course, I’ll get the NRC Tribe into formation,” Vil responds smoothly, waving the rest of the crew to the front of the stage. It only takes a minute; they’re clearly enthusiastic (if not a bit nervous) to perform in front of people who aren’t you and Grim. Deep breaths. A wave of resounding calm flows through him; it’s a lucid state he’s perfected before each and every performance.

The first notes of the rhythmic song start. His eyes unfocus slightly, allowing his muscle memory to take control for the most part. It’s now just a matter of pouring his emotions into the song and dance to truly capture the hearts of those watching. The flow. The haze. It all becomes a part of him, and he knows the rest of those dancing up on stage with him can feel it. Surely they feel the connection of their passion?

He meets your eyes, your wide, enraptured eyes as you gaze at him. He doesn’t fully realise, but the words he sings are for your ears for now. Let this be dedicated to you, and he can worry later about sharing the passion he feels with the rest of the spectators. Vil’s not emotionally stupid; he can tell his feelings have veered into territory that he simply doesn’t want to acknowledge yet. He just has to let them flow into his performance and worry about the rest later.

His mind is deliciously clear, enjoying the endorphins pumping through his blood at the pleasant stretch of movement. It’s already halfway done? The altered passage of time when he’s in the zone is always a surprise. From your excited grin, he can safely assume this performance is one, if not the, best they’ve given. And it’s all for you to watch, before it’s posted for the world to see.

Raucous applause disrupts his flow as the cameras are cut with a signal from the camera crew. You’re standing and clapping your hands with some serious force as you join them up on stage.

“Almost moved me to tears,” you joke, congratulating them on a flawless performance. “Seriously though, you guys are ready.”

You don’t need to say anymore. You stand back to give them space, but Vil watches in dawning horror as you bump into the one and only Neige LeBlanche. It’s only a mild shoulder bump, but it’s happened. The two of you have made contact.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise profusely, taking a big step back. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine, really,” Neige smiles at you, sickeningly sweet. Beside Vil, the NRC dance crew members look at you with incredulity. Why are you so goddamn oblivious? “I shouldn’t have approached this way.”

“If you’re sure,” you trail off, noting the weird looks directed your way by Ace and Deuce. “What the hell are you guys gawking at?

Before Vil can say anything, you’re already being yanked away by Ace’s insistent tugging. Your brows are still furrowed. Goddamn. Have you really never heard of Neige LeBlanche?

It seems Ace is interrogating you with that very question, judging by the furrowed glances he sends both your way and Neige’s. It seems Neige is quick to mask his surprise, walking towards Vil (which was probably the whole reason he approached the group in the first place).

“Your group was amazing,” Neige gushes - his eyes are lit up with awe. Vil feels… nothing, eerily enough. All that’s coursing through him is malicious calm.

“Thank you,” he maintains the professional image easily and smoothly, not missing the way Kalim and Deuce’s eyes swivel between him and Neige.

“It was truly a sight to behold; I had chills just watching,” Neige continues with starry eyes. “I can’t wait to work with you again!”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Vil muses calmly, letting the air of conversation fizzle out. Out of his peripherals, he spots you and Ace rejoin the group. Unfortunately, it seems Neige has also spotted you again; he shoots you a smile and turns to you.

“Hi, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Neige’s innocent question leads you to a quick pause before introducing yourself. You’re not overly friendly, more like care-free as usual.

“I didn’t catch your name either, sorry,” you continue politely. Did Trappola wander off-topic while lecturing you? It clearly seemed like it from your slightly bewildered expression.

“Neige LeBlanche, at your service,” Neige’s eyes carry that stupefied look for only a second before it’s swiftly replaced by a cheery smile. Nothing. Vil suppresses a snort of laughter at your politely unknowing expression. Of course you’d be like this, meeting the arguably most famous person in the land with no respect for their importance.

“Cool, I’ll leave you guys to it,” you respond amiably, sending a thumbs up his way. You’ve just upped and left? Vil turns to the side slightly to stifle his laughter as you wander back to the seats where you’ve left your notebook. Utterly lacking proper conversation etiquette as usual. He supposes it’s a positive seeing the Neige LeBlanche seemingly at a loss for words.

“Was that NRC’s manager?” Neige asks Vil. With dawning horror, Vil realises that most of his crew is also standing at the first row with you, due to their practice slot being finished.

“Yes,” Vil responds succinctly, watching Neige watch your movements as you talk with Rook. You’re currently being rattled like a rag-doll with the way he’s clasping your shoulders and shaking you slightly, no doubt grilling you over how you didn’t know who Neige was. He can hear your raucous laughter from all the way on stage.

“Your manager this year is awesome,” Neige compliments, leaning forward slightly to see the action further. Vil suppresses the shudder of disgust. No way this is happening right now.

“Ah, I’ve got to go round up my own crew,” Neige comments distractedly, looking around him. Vil gladly takes this opportunity to take his leave to join the rest of his group, leaving nothing behind but a goodbye.

That bastard. Vil watches the concluding moves of the RSA crew’s performance with barely concealed disgust from his seat in the stands.

“We’ve been had,” he utters in shock. No way. That bumbling performance they’ve put on-

“What do you mean?” Kalim asks in dismay at Vil’s change in attitude.

“He’s right,” Jamil agrees with a heavy sigh. “Look at how much they’re appealing to all demographics with their sugary sweet performance.”

Deep resentment begins to fester within Vil. A familiar ringing noise fills his ears as he tunes out the chatter of everyone surrounding him. He almost doesn’t feel the way he slips out of his seat and down the stairs leading to the rooms within the colossal arena. He feels the pressure of a heavy glass bottle within the palm of his hand, not even having to look at it to know it’s one of Epel’s apple juice bottles. He’s only dimly aware of subconsciously infusing the drink with the same curse he used during the poison assessment.

May those who drink this fall into an endless slumber, Fairest One.

The comforting bubbling slosh of the drink lets him know it’s been tampered with. A small, rational part of his brain urges him not to do this; the rest of his body is consumed by an abyss of disgust and hatred. Gunpowder and other acrid chemical smells appear in wisps, only registering faintly as familiar with his nose. He ignores it all.

“Hi, Neige,” Vil smiles brightly at the youth in front of one of the backstage doors. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your wonderful performance.”

One heartbeat.

Neige turns at the sound of Vil’s uncharacteristically cheerful voice. He doesn’t suspect anything amiss, but Vil supposes he’s always been that way.

“It makes me really happy hearing that from someone I admire a lot,” Neige beams back. Perfect.

Two heartbeats.

“How about a drink? I’ve become rather partial to this brand of apple juice,” Vil’s smile is rehearsed; it’s absolutely oozing with venom.

“Sure!” Neige agrees enthusiastically. “I saw the brand on your Magicam a few weeks back - I was even going to order before I realised it had all sold out.”

Three heartbeats is all it takes to deceive him.

It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Vil’s downfall has been secured by Neige over the course of his life, whereas Neige’s downfall will be brought about in only a few seconds. The smooth glass of the apple juice bottle does not reveal the curse roiling within. It’s perfect - scentless, colourless and lethal. He wants to laugh when Neige accepts the cool glass bottle so easily. Has he no sense of danger?

“Roi des Neiges!” Who does that voice belong to? With a start, Vil turns to see Rook’s slightly dishevelled form as he runs up to Neige. “My apologies for interrupting the two of you, but the staff were looking for you, Neige.”

“Roi des Neiges..” Neige’s voice trails away as he stares contemplatively at Rook. “Wait-”

“My, I’m absolutely parched after running around looking for you,” Rook swiftly takes charge of the conversation. Why now? Vil can feel sharp cracking within his very soul. “Might I trouble you to let me have some of that refreshing juice you hold?”

No.

“Of course,” Neige agrees enthusiastically, if not a little perplexed.

“You should hurry back, Neige,” Rook continues, taking the bottle offered kindly. “And do not come back here.”

“Huh? What do you-”

“Go on, off with you! Away!” Neige’s question is sharply cut off by Rook’s insistence. Vil can hear him scurry off, like a little rodent.

“That sweet, tart aroma,” Rook breathes. With a start of horror, Vil notices that the cork of the flask has been removed. “Truly.. Epel’s hometown beverage is magnifique, to say the least.”

“I shall drink it to the very last drop, Roi des Poisons,” his knowing gaze meets Vil’s stricken one as he slowly raises the bottle to his lips.

No.

“Don’t do it, Rook!”

Glass shattering. It’s all Vil can do to keep track of what’s happening. His head feels like it’s underwater.

“He used his signature spell to curse the apple juice!” It’s the same speaker from earlier. Kalim?

“-look on his face was the same as Jamil’s-”

“-lost control-”

“Rook,” Vil’s voice rasps. He’s not sure he made the conscious decision to speak. The hunter turns to him with eyes not holding anger or disappointment, but concern. “Why did you..?”

“I wanted to believe in you,” Rook holds his gaze with no traces of accusation. “If it was cursed, I still wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste the fruit of a poison derived from an obsession with beauty bordering on madness.”

Madness?

Vil tunes them all out. He’s dimly aware of you speaking in concerned, hushed tones to the rest of them. Why are you here as well?

“Vil, do you have any idea how foolish that was?” Kalim’s voice is rimmed with desperate emotions. “After all that work, after saying the other teams would look like spuds compared to us, why stoop to this?”

Why stoop to this? Can’t he see that there is no other way? Rage pummels his veins, ripping through his body, his mind, his soul. Something gathers within him, dark and inky and fatal.

“That’s what I want to know,” Vil’s voice is laced with ice, and pure venom. “I’ve come to a realisation. That I… can never win! I’m going to handle Neige myself.”

“Trickster, Kalim! Do not inhale that mist rising from the floor! It’s the evaporated form of that cursed liquid!” Rook’s urging has hints of desperation within it. He turns to Vil. “I don’t see why one glass would have such a drastic… Oh, Vil, you didn’t-”

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Vil pleads. It’s not just Rook, he can see you as well, looking at him with that gaze that makes him want to bury himself away. “I just wanted to be the fairest, so why? Why? Why am I so ugly?”

“Roi des Poisons, you are far from ugly,” Rook calls out to him, reaching out a hand. Vil longs to take it, but he can’t. He’s too far gone.

“You haven’t actually hurt anyone!” Kalim’s pleas fall on uncaring ears.

“Silence!” Vil’s voice snaps. He can almost see himself from a separate plane, mist rising up around him in acrid, poisonous billows. He can see you, swaying on your feet slightly, looking more shaky than your companions. “What do any of you know? What does it matter if any of you forgive me? I can’t forgive myself!”

Let go.

Dark streaks overcome his vision, ebbing and flowing along the edges. It would be nice, to hand over the reins for a while, wouldn’t it? To let go of his fury, his resentment, his jealousy. What a dream.

“If I just melt everyone into hideous messes,” Vil’s barely aware of speaking. It’s a rather distorted voice, isn’t it? He can’t help but laugh. “Then I’ll be the fairest one of all, won’t I?”

The last thing he sees before it all overcomes him is your stricken face. He’s not sure you’ve ever worn such an expression before. He’s unlikely to forget those eyes, your facial muscles contorting into a painting of intermingling horror and worry. Why does he feel that shame rising again?

Didn’t he let go already?

Scene III: Wake . 　⁺

“I was the villain bullying the hero in the last play, too. Why do I keep getting picked to play the bad guy? Do I really look that mean?”

Villains never stay on stage for the whole play. Once their role is finished, all they can do is watch from the shadows as the happy ending plays out. What I want is to stay on stage longer than anyone else.

“Those kids were trying to hold me accountable for a work of fiction. Silly boys, the lot of them.”

I always aim for one role - the hero. But… all I ever get to be is the villain.

“Vil is too special to play the part of a regular teen that viewers can relate to. Without that reliability, I don’t think he’ll ever pull off playing a hero.”

I would do anything to be beautiful. The most rigorous training. The most tedious hair and skin care regimens. I would shy away from none of it. And yet.. Why? Why is it never me? All I want is to stay on stage until the end of a show.

In the end, it’s not the gentle splattering of rain on his face that wakes him up. It’s some foreign warmth on his face that causes his eyes to slowly open. Framed by his eyelashes and the haze of a deep slumber is your face. It’s as if you know, the way you look at him with such tenderness and concern. It’s as if you’ve pulled him from the deep recesses of his memories yourself, with the way your rough hands prop his head up so gently.

“How am I..” Vil rasps out, looking at you with nothing but queries in his eyes. His eyes search over your tired expression, the way the sclera of your eyes is still tinged a slight purple, and the various small cuts across your face. Did he do this? Waves of shame hit him and he can’t bear to meet your gaze.

“Thank goodness you’re awake, Vil,” you murmur down at him. Is this the first time you’ve said his name? It sounds foreign on your lips, and unbearably sweet. Why aren’t you mad at him? Why do you keep looking at him with those unaccusing eyes?

“Oh, Vil.. fair Vil,” Rook sighs in relief, crouching beside you on the rain soaked ruins. Ruins? Vil takes the opportunity to look round the battle site, the upheaved flagstones, the despoiled decorations. Another wave of shame meets him when he notices the haggard faces of his crew (is that Kalim bawling his eyes out? And is that Jamil scolding him?).

“I’m.. sorry you had to see that undignified display,” Vil apologises, making sure each and every one of his words is sincere. He cannot begin to comprehend how much shame he’s feeling at the moment. “Only third-rate people throw temper tantrums and take their problems out on others. My conduct was most unbecoming of all…”

“Y’right about that,” Epel grumbles, but without a trace of actual malicious intent. “Thought ya said people grow out of temper tantrums by the time they’re three?”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right, Epel,” Vil uses your shoulder to haul himself up so he can sit up. You don’t seem to mind, even grabbing on to his wrist to steady him. With another crash of guilt, he realises how your grasp is shaky, no doubt due to your exposure to the curse when you don’t have any sort of natural magic resistance. “I’m no longer fit to be your leader.”

“You haven’t actually hurt anyone, Vil,” Kalim argues. Vil can see him approaching and standing next to where Rook crouches. “You haven’t stepped over that brink.”

“He’s right,” Jamil says, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of outside the coliseum. “Neige is dancing out there happily with the seven dwarfs. It’s a stretch, but we can say we got worked up and had a team brawl in here.”

“Yeah,” Ace interjects. “No way we’re letting you pull out because of a few bruises, after the wringer we’ve been put through.”

“All of you,” Vil feels a horrendous mushy feeling swell up within him. You’re still supporting him with the way you’re steadying his wrist. “You just want to pretend nothing’s happened?”

“I never said that,” Jamil retorts, but his face blooms into his signature smile. “We can just hold off explanations until after the competition.”

“You truly are wicked, Jamil,” Vil replies with a small laugh. It hurts, and he feels his chest contort with pain. Your grip on his wrist tightens and you steady his shoulder with your other hand, clearly not missing the way his face twists into a grimace.

“Here, I’ll help you stand, alright?” you’re surprisingly strong, with the way you unceremoniously (but carefully) haul him up so he stands leaning into your firm touch. Even with your clearly weakened state, you still grip onto him as if he’s the fragile one that isn’t allowed to fall. Vil can’t even bring himself to protest.

“I wasn’t the one who made the shot so strong, Vil was,” Deuce seemingly replies to a conversation Vil’s unconsciously tuned out. “The spell stores all the damage I take, then hits it back all at once. So it was only potent because of Vil’s potent magic.”

Ah. Deuce seems to be describing the final hit Vil can barely remember taking, the one that likely brought him back to the brink of consciousness.

“Don’t make it sound so violent!” Deuce splutters in indignation, and Vil once again realises he’s tuned out. He doesn’t particularly mind, focusing instead on the way you unconsciously seem to tense your muscles against him when shifting, the way you still have that signature chemical smell to you, the way you’re looking directly at him with that expression-

“Signature… You mean that’s my signature spell?” Deuce seems to be coming to a realisation with sparkling eyes. Good on him. Beside him, Ace seems to be coming to an unpleasant realisation with the way he’s incredulously muttering to himself about how he can’t believe Deuce has mastered his signature spell before him.

“Behold, Vil is awestruck and weak-kneed from the splendour of your blow,” Rook proclaims, gesturing to the not-awestruck Vil.

“I’d wager he’s also weak-kneed from something else,” Jamil comments sardonically, looking pointedly at the way you’ve got him in your grasp. Vil only hopes you’ve become suddenly preoccupied with something else.

“No, I’m just beaten head-to-toe,” Vil swiftly retorts. “That last blow did strike soundly, though. Nicely done, Deuce.”

“Thank you, sir!” Deuce smiles at him eagerly. “Although, I don’t know what to do about the wrecked stage.”

“It’s not feasible to fix it all with magic,” Jamil replies pragmatically, looking around him with a calculating expression. “With what power we have left.. Every scenario running through my mind all ends with the same brick wall.”

“Does that mean.. SDC is…” Epel trails off, looking at Jamil with a dawning sense of horror.

“What do we have here?” The new, booming voice is accompanied by green fireflies that send a small shiver down Vil’s spine. What’s he doing here?

“I thought I’d arrive earlier,” Malleus hums with a touch of surprise, surveying the surroundings briefly. “What do I find but a stage laid to waste?”

“Hornton!” you exclaim, and Vil can feel your sternum vibrate through his shoulder. You’re.. acquainted with Malleus Draconia enough to call him nicknames? He can’t even be surprised anymore. “There’s still two hours until the SDC opens!”

“Hornton?” It’s a collective response from the rest of the crew, voicing Vil’s thoughts.

“Do you have a death wish, calling your upperclassman that?” Ace shudders at your audacity.

“Do you even know who that is?” Epel’s shocked voice causes you to blink in surprise at his tone.

“He told me to call him whatever, so I did,” Vil has to stifle a laugh as you shrug. Of course you did.

“However did you get into the coliseum, Roi des Dragons?” Rook sounds positively astonished.

“I was invited by the Child of Man from Ramshackle,” Malleus replies, gesturing to you.

“Yep,” you affirm. Vil feels as though you’re ignoring the other, more pressing question Rook’s asked.

“The entire venue is still enveloped by the poison mist generated by Vil,” Rook’s explanation trails off as Malleus holds up a clawed hand.

“I am impervious to any curse, no matter how powerful,” Malleus takes another look around the wrecked coliseum. “Whatever could’ve happened here?”

Vil watches as you briefly and efficiently describe the events, listening extra hard for the parts where he would’ve been unconscious. It’s curious, the way you don’t let any trace of exhaustion or pain enter your voice. It only takes around two minutes for you to give the gist of the situation to Malleus.

“Children of men, I shall bestow upon you a gift,” Malleus’ words come with an incredible magic pressure that leaves Vil’s eyes wide. He steals a glance at you, and watches your own expression become slack with awe and curiosity.

“That’s Malleus Draconia for you,” Vil murmurs to you. Your brow furrows as you look down at Vil.

“That’s Malleus? Hornton over there was the one everyone was so excited about at the Spelldrive tournament?” you ask incredulously. After all this, you’re still holding on to that nickname? Your eyes dart back to those green fireflies that are somehow lifting all the ruined flagstones and pillars, and rearranging them into pristine condition. Within the space of a few heartbeats, Malleus has managed to restore the conditions of the arena into an exact replica of how they were before.

“He’s ludicrously out of our league,” Ace mumbles in awe. Vil can’t help but agree.

“Thanks a bunch, Hornton!” you beam at Malleus, who stares at you for a brief second before breaking out into chuckles. It’s the first time Vil’s ever heard the fae laugh, but you’re full of surprises as usual.

“Though you know who I am, you still stick to that pet name?” Malleus sounds terribly amused, looking at you as you fumble with an explanation. He interrupts whatever apology is about to leave your lips with another chuckle. “Truly, I do not mind.”

He turns to look at Vil with a resolute expression in his eyes that’s made all the more disconcerting by his piercing green eyes. “I’ve set the stage for you, Schoenheit. I trust you will keep me entertained.”

“I hardly need your urgings to put on my finest performance,” Vil suppresses the wince of pain as he straightens his posture, ignoring the very tangible reality of you still grasping onto him. “Be prepared for a standing ovation.”

“I’ll expect nothing less. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Malleus’ last words fade out with his disappearance. The only traces left behind by him are those green fireflies.

“Lady Luck is truly on our side,” Rook comments after the flashes fade out. “I was hardly expecting Roi des Dragons to appear here.”

Me neither. Though it seems today is a day full of surprises.

Vil leans into your warmth a bit more, and you indulge him. The arm carefully wrapped around him is sure and steady - he wants nothing more than to stay here until the end of time. You don’t ask questions, looking past his shoulder so you can direct the crew to their water. He knows he must let go to perform - it’s highly unusual to see the Vil Schoenheit rely on anyone, even if it’s a little bit. To see him clinging to someone, his rival of all people…

Gingerly, he lets go of you. Your grasp on him is firm to the very end as you let go and make sure he’s not at risk of fainting. The concern you display is almost comedic, but you don’t say anything.

He can feel your eyes burning into his back as he walks away, but he doesn’t look back.

Scene IV: Unopened Missive . 　⁺

Vil supposes it’s comedic as he pours everything he’s got left into the final performance, only to score exactly one point below RSA. It’s always like this; him, exactly one step behind Neige. He can’t fault Neige, anymore, not after he’s come to terms with it. As the thrum of music faded and the flow of performance left him, he was acutely aware of the raucous applause he drew. He did not care. All he was searching for were your eyes.

He’s sure Lady Luck is laughing straight at him as Rook proclaims himself as one of Neige’s biggest fans. What betrayal! Of course this has been added onto the list of surprises. It’s strange; he doesn’t feel the annoyance he’d expect to be simmering through his veins at that moment. It seems he’s let that go.

It’s practically hilarious as he joins Neige on stage to sing an encore. Only scraps of bitterness remain - had Vil not exhausted the whole team earlier, they might have won and took back that one measly vote. He’s accepted that. Still, his frustration is palpable as he leaves his crew to sing with Neige, though not to the audience. His professionalism is the one thing he’s managed to keep up.

“Hey,” your voice breaks him out of the reverie. It’s bizarre, the way you’ve escorted him back to Pomefiore, even though he’s got Rook and Epel to do that. It’s even more bizarre, the way he’s let you gently drag him to his room, where Rook and Epel have already gone back to their own chambers. They already know it’s best to leave him alone when he’s in a bad mood. So why.. why are you still-

The sharp tang of medicinal ointment brings him back to the current situation. You’re poised between his legs as he sits at his vanity, with an assortment of bottles behind you. It’s strangely intimate with the way the soft dusk lighting envelopes you with its mysterious aura. He’s not wearing any makeup, but you don’t seem to care; your gaze caresses his features, laced with only concern.

Please, don’t look at me with those eyes.

“I’m going to begin, alright?” you murmur, searching his eyes for any traces of discomfort. Vil nods wordlessly. The pressure on his chin from one hand of yours is feather light; he finds himself leaning into it slightly. Your other hand lightly brushes over the cuts on his face with the ointment swabbed onto a cotton pad - strangely, it lacks the usual sting which normally elicits a sharp hiss of surprise.

“I made this ointment myself,” you explain after seeing the surprise conveyed in his eyes. Of course you did. In any case, it seems to be working fine, judging by the rapid cooling sensation he’s feeling across his face.

“Why-” Vil begins to ask as you cap the ointment bottle and twist it closed with practised ease. Your hand is still on his face, but he can’t bear to pull away. Not here, in the privacy of his room, where the only eyes upon him are yours. “-why are you still here? Don’t you dislike me?”

You pause in the rummaging you’re doing in your pocket. Vil holds his breath as you turn to him with that contemplative look you wear while figuring out potions.

“I don’t actually dislike you,” you comment matter-of-factly, tilting his face to each side to observe your handiwork. “I’ve got better things to do than spend my energy stewing over you.”

Ouch.

“You still haven’t answered my first question,” Vil’s composure is rapidly slipping down the drain as he remains (quite literally) in the palm of your hand. Your gaze doesn’t falter. “Do you just feel bad for me?”

“No,” you respond idly, still tilting his head this way and that. It’s like watching a cat bat at a toy. “I thought it might be good to have company and rely on someone else for once.”

There’s something else you aren’t saying. It’s unspoken in your eyes and the way your brow makes imperceptible furrows every few minutes. Vil’s breath hitches in his throat slightly.

“Did you-” he’s interrupted by that look, not one of pity, but one of resolute determination.

“Yes, I saw those memories,” you admit. You don’t look at him with an apologetic expression, one that screams pity. It’s a relief. “I didn’t mean to, like at all.”

“It’s fine,” Vil supposes it is fine. You wouldn’t tell anyone, he feels. He watches as your expression shrivels up into one of abject surprise as you feel around in your pocket, drawing out what seems to be a cream-coloured, expensive looking envelope. Vil knows exactly what it is, even as you scan the front quizzically then shrug. Of course. You can’t read the runes.

“It’s the results for the poison assessment,” Vil supplies. Strange. He doesn’t feel any excitement, or fear - it’s bordering on the neutrality of acceptance. It seems you feel the same way, as you just toss the envelope down with disregard onto the vanity and continue your search in your pockets.

“Aha!” your triumphant exclamation leaves him blinking in surprise. Why haven’t you acknowledged the results at all? You brandish another bottle of ointment in front of him excitedly, almost hitting him on the nose due to your very close proximity. “I’ve found the muscle and bone ointment!”

“Aren’t you going to look at the results?” Vil asks incredulously - it slips out before he can even comprehend he’s said it.

“I can’t even read them,” you untwist the ointment with your teeth, leaving tiny dents in the metal cap. “I’ll look at them later.”

The potent tang of nettles permeates the air as you set the open bottle onto the table behind you, letting go of Vil’s face.

“I’m going to need you to undress so I can access your back,” your nonchalant tone makes Vil’s reaction delayed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up at your words. “I heard the nastiest little crunch when Deuce’s spell hit you, so I’m gonna have to check those ribs.”

“Right,” Vil swallows thickly, standing up. Wrong move. You’re much too close now, pressed up against the vanity with him standing right in front of you. His body is brushing up against yours, and he can feel your body heat. Shit. He moves out of the vicinity to the bathroom, with all the composure of a professional actor.

“This ointment’s designed for deeper use than surface level injuries,” you call out behind him. “It’s gonna sting!”

“That’s fine,” Vil responds before shutting his bathroom door. He quickly loosens his shirt, wishing it were your hands doing- His heart pounds in his ribcage as he shuts down the thought. It only takes a minute before his shirt and blazer are both tossed into the laundry basket, all too soon considering the flushed sheen emerging on his face.

One final cursory inspection of his face in the mirror is necessary before he goes out to face you. He’s almost taken aback - not by the lack of makeup which he’s already accustomed to, but the sheer vulnerability within his expression. He looks like such a mess, and you’ve not even commented on it? You’ve just accepted that it doesn’t matter what he looks like; you’re going to treat him the same regardless. It’s a far cry to what he values as his principles.

He pushes open the door hesitantly. His torso is exposed, and he suddenly feels the jarring pangs of shyness. Why now? He’s gone topless for movie scenes before, for Sevens’ sake! Steeling himself, he opens the door completely. You’ve placed the vanity chair by the bed- surely you’re not-

“You can either lie on your stomach here, or sit up on the chair, which might be more uncomfortable,” you explain briefly, rolling up your uniform sleeves as if you’re about to conduct a lab practical. Am I the lab rat? “I’ve picked up a few massage tips here and there, so overall it should be a quite pleasant experience. Of course, if you want to omit the massage-”

“No, it’s fine,” Vil lets out a shaky breath at your nonchalance, gingerly lying on his front on his covers. Jack of all trades, aren’t you? He doesn’t realise just how tense his muscles have been until you press your thumbs into the muscles situated around his scapula. Your hands are coated in some sort of resinous, volatile substance, judging from the brief alcohol fumes flaring up whenever you place your hands down. You were right, there is a sting, but it’s not as sharp as he expected.

Why are you doing this? It’s a question that keeps replaying in his mind’s movie theatre, with the cruel laughing soundtrack interspersed in a tragic loop every few seconds. The two of you aren’t friends, and what you’ve done goes beyond the level of care Vil normally receives from friendship. He can’t complain, not when your warm, rough hands are finally on him, even if it’s to just rub the ointment in.

“Now, I’m no medic,” there’s a faint apology in your tone as you concentrate the ointment into a specific, aching spot. Vil barely registers the sting of pain due to your burning touch. “But I think that your rib’s been bruised at the very least in that spot, and that ointment should’ve healed the worst of it.”

His rapid heart rate distracts him from the loss of body heat from you as you move your hands away from his body. Please don’t stop. He feels a heavy pressure on his right shoulder, and to his surprise it’s the palm of your hand waking him from his reverie.

“I’ll bandage you up just to be sure,” you murmur, shifting your weight from foot to foot and looking around. It’s clear you’re hesitant, maybe due to your lack of experience playing a so-called “doctor”. Still, judging by the way the deep ache within has eased, you’ve done a pretty darn good job, as Epel would no doubt say. “Sit up.”

Vil obeys, gingerly swinging his legs round the bed until he’s sitting, and you’re once again hovering over him as you slip a clean bandage out of its plastic wrapping. He breathes in the comforting warmth of your body heat and repertoire of chemical smells that mask the floral traces on your skin. Don’t you feel the rushed thrum of blood that’s pumping through each vein and each capillary, as you wrap your arms around him to begin winding the bandage?

Is he nothing more than a mere patient to that clinical precision you currently sport?

“What would you have chosen, if you won the poison assessment?” Vil suddenly asks as you clip the bandage into place with a satisfied hum around the middle of his torso.

“Why are you asking as if I lost?” you let out a bemused chuckle, gesturing to the still-very-closed envelope sitting on his vanity. “We don’t know yet.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Vil could melt with the way you’re gazing down at him as he sits with you standing in between his legs. Your sharp eyes contain a warning, one he has no intention of heeding as he presses the subject. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Fine,” your voice rasps slightly as you stoop down to his level. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation of your warm breath rustling past his ear. “Are you really that eager to know?”

“Go on,” Vil almost pleads, and he’s sure you hear the quiet hints of desperation in his voice. Your eyes lock back onto his; he’s slightly regretting asking you as he sees the dangerous glints in your eye. His breath hitches as he realises it’s the same, all-consuming look of seriousness you reserve for your experiments and potions. It’s as if he already knows what your answer will be, with the way his blood excitedly thrums to the surface to respond with an echoing yes.

Please.

The rough pads of your fingers meet his chin again in that gentle grasp as you tilt his head upwards. This is really happening, right? It’s as if he’s in a haze; anticipation of your movements is the only thing breaking him out of it.

“Can I..” you murmur, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. He holds his breath. Yes. Your mere touch calls forth fireworks to explode in a vibrant cacophony.

“Please,” Vil’s quiet gasp is all the encouragement you clearly need, because the next thing he knows you’ve stepped forward and met his open mouth with yours. The heady taste of woodsmoke and cherry syrup lingering on your tongue is positively intoxicating. He’s not sure, but he can also taste the coppery tang of blood as well. Perhaps it’s from the heat of battle earlier? Regardless, his blood rises in response; he’s sure his face is flushed a deep pink.

You don’t hesitate, leaning his head to the side with your fingers to kiss him deeper and deeper. He groans into your mouth, feeling you smile as you taste his desperation. He positively convulses as he feels your hand trace the bare skin of his side; he’s so vulnerable like this, and he knows you feel it as you press into his body.

Vil gasps for air when you pull back. A string of saliva connects your lips to his; with a start, he realises that your lips are shiny and traced with the purple lipgloss he’s wearing. Your eyes are half-lidded with intensity and some other roiling emotion he can’t place. It makes his breathing even more uneven when he realises he’s made you look like that.

“Like what you see?” even now, traces of rivalry still lace Vil’s tone; he cannot help but provoke you to elicit another reaction. Your gaze slowly travels up and down Vil’s dishevelled appearance, making sure to scour every inch of it. He holds his breath when your lip curls in disdain.

“Please,” your voice rolls deep from your throat with sarcasm. It makes Vil’s blood cells burn with want. The sharp, intense look in your eyes only becomes more turbulent; it’s insanely attractive to be at your mercy.

“Don’t make me laugh-” your fingers curl into his chin more, and Vil can feel the suppressed strength within the grip. Blood is rushing straight down, and he can barely keep track of all the thoughts racing through his head. “-not with the way I’ve seen you almost do flips for my attention, with your one-sided rivalry.”

“Ah-” Vil’s gasp sounds suspiciously like a moan as you move closer, pressing a knee in between his legs inadvertently. You’ve clearly heard it, with the way you furrow your brow and pause your motions.

“Did you-” your eyes fully take in his heavy breathing and the way he’s coming undone from just kissing you. Your question is answered immediately.

“Please, keep going,” Vil pleads, removing one hand from where it’s gripping the sheets to your hip. You swallow thickly, eyes darting between his hand and face.

“You sure you want to continue?” you prompt, eyes settling into that same dangerous glint once again. “I don’t want to aggravate your injuries..”

“Please,” Vil all but begs, seeing the way your eyes glaze over with desire. The hazy, smoky smell of your skin almost acts like an aphrodisiac; he cannot help but be ensnared.

“Alright,” your voice is hushed when you tilt his head upwards to access his jugular, biting into the area slightly with sharp canines. He knows you feel it: the way his pulse jumps erratically beneath your touch. You draw out quiet, hushed gasps with every mark you make on his throat, with every movement of your waist against his bare torso, with every nudge of your knee in between his legs.

More.

He doesn’t even realise he’s slowly rolling his hips against your leg to feel any sort of friction until you press down on his hips with the hand that’s been supporting his shoulder.

“Not so fast,” you breathe against his skin - his back can’t help but arch slightly at the feeling of your breath against his neck. “Allow me to take care of you.”

It’s your words that make him pause in shock; they’re an eerie echo of what you said in his dream. Judging by the lack of change in your expression, you don’t know about it; thank Sevens.

You’re pressing into him, forcing him into the bed on his forearms while you lean in, kissing his mouth feverishly to bring out his gasps and moans. He’s unbearably hard, all the more so because of your knee moving out of reach each time he chases that delicious high. This is better than any dream.

Burning kisses trail their way from below his ear down to his collarbone. He’s suddenly glad for the wonders of concealer as he thinks about the marks you’re leaving. On the other hand, he’s strangely into the idea of people seeing he’s taken by you, so much so that you’re marking him up like this.

“Ah- right there,” Vil can’t suppress the noises he’s making as your lips travel down to his chest. He doesn’t care who hears him; he’s seeing goddamn stars with the way your tongue circles his nipple and your thumb mirrors the action with the other one. The pressure you’re applying deftly is making him intoxicated.

“You look so beautiful like this,” your fingers glide over the neatly wrapped bandages on his chest, trailing down to his waist. He doesn’t think it’s possible for his heart to beat any more erratically without thumping straight out of his chest. Is he really sure that you haven’t magically seen his dreams? After all, you’ve seen his memories. He waits with bated breath for your next move, not realising that you’ve already positioned yourself to hover between his thighs with a small grin on your face.

“Mind if I take these off?” you hook your thumbs around the tailored trousers he’s wearing. It takes considerable self-restraint to not tell you to just rip them off.

“Go ahead,” it’s a wonder that his voice doesn’t crack from the sheer pressure of what he’s feeling at the moment. Your grin is all edges as you efficiently unzip the front and slip the pants off. It seems that he’s surprised you when you look down at his smooth legs with your eyebrows slightly raised, taking in the fact that he’s wearing sheer black stockings to his mid thigh underneath his pants.

“All for me?” you run your fingers down his legs appreciatively, feeling the soft material underneath your fingers with an even sharper grin than before. Vil can’t help but shiver at the feather-light touches you give, contrasted sharply with the jagged vertices of your smile.

All for you.

It’s as if you can read his thoughts. You’re once again hovering between his legs, spreading them with nothing more than a gentle push. The touches you leave on his legs feel almost possessive; he cannot help but adore it. Will he be the only one seeing that expression on your face? He wants to be the only one, the only one to see the tumultuous desire warp and thrash within the glints in your eyes. It’s a far cry from your usual composure.

Sticky residue from his lipgloss is left on his soft inner thighs as you press kiss after kiss to the skin. He can feel desire pulse through you with every bruising mark you leave. It entrances him. The unspoken words you leave him are more than enough to assure him that even like this, with all his bruises and scrapes and tears, he’s beautiful.

Your hands slowly ease his underwear off; the cold air on the sensitive skin makes him hiss slightly, but it quickly turns into a gasp as you leave kisses in the crook of the skin connecting his thigh to his pelvis.

“I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” you promise quietly. The ravenous look in your eyes doesn’t subside as you gaze at him from between his legs. He can’t help but let out a small groan at your words. What would his fans say if they saw him, lying so pliant for his supposed academic rival?

One of Vil’s hands fly up to his face to muffle the moans escaping his lips when your thumb circles his slit, made all too easy by the flow of pre-cum from his dick. The other hand is left desperately clutching at the sheets of his bed as his hips involuntarily buck upwards into your hand.

“Uncover your pretty mouth,” you slowly twist your hand down, all while gazing at his flushed face. He’s already seeing stars at the friction and can barely register his hand leaving his mouth to grip the sheets. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He can only hope that his door is soundproofed from the obscene noises leaving him as you pick up the pace. It’s not enough. Your hand moves away each time the haze of pleasure builds up, leaving him chasing after your touch. He’s sure he looks an absolute mess right now with the way tears are leaving his eyes and his brow has the sheen of sweat; you clearly don’t care as you lithely move upwards to kiss him. The cool fabric of your clothes presses into his bare skin, making him feel incredibly exposed to you.

You’re still moving with that teasing pace as you swallow down his moans. It’s unbearable, all the more so because you’re still covered in your uniform. He almost sobs in relief when your hand picks up speed and the pleasure starts steadily building in his stomach. His hips desperately grind into your hand and you let him, let him come undone with your touch and quiet praises. He’s close; the dopamine is flooding through his veins and all he can focus on is the way you touch him, the way you’re currently kissing his jaw and leaving more marks on his neck, the way you’re coaxing such obscene sounds from both his throat and from the skin on skin friction.

It builds and builds and builds, until all he can fathom is saying your name over and over, as if he’s some devout worshipper invoking some otherworldly being. He lets go, feeling the way you slow down to allow him to ride out the climax. Only white-hot pleasure courses through his mind, fading out more slowly than usual. He kisses you feverishly, feeling the warm skin on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer and closer. You’re now lying side by side on his bed, with you pressed up against him wearing your despoiled clothes, ones that have been despoiled by him.

“You’re removing your clothes as well, I hope?” his gaze trails down your body, looking at the offending uniform that you’re wearing. It’s a wonder he’s managed to form a coherent statement. Still, it’s only fair that you also remove the fabric with those deft hands like you did to those tailored trousers he was wearing.

“Right,” your gaze softens, moving your hands away from his body. His brows furrow with a question as he watches the hand sticky with cum approach your face- oh my. A scarlet flush blooms on his cheeks as you use your tongue to clean your hand up, before using it to lazily remove your blazer and vest. You don’t give them a second glance as you toss the clothes on the floor. The warmth you’re emitting is all the more palpable as only a thin buttoned shirt separates your skin from his. It’s incredibly attractive, watching your languid movements as you discard the shirt off to the side as well as your trousers.

The feeling of your bare skin on his shouldn’t elicit such a burning reaction from him, but it does; he groans as you lean back to slowly kiss him, feeling the way your body heat envelopes him without any barriers. He’s acutely aware of all the points your skin brushes against him - it’s insanely addicting. You’re kissing him without a care in the world, judging by the way you lazily cradle his face with your hands. He’s so malleable under your touch, so starved of affection that he’s wrapped around your pinky finger. He’s sure you can feel the way his skin flushes with a simmering heat.

The blue hour soaks you both in the gloom as your hands press him closer and closer, until he can barely distinguish where he ends and you begin. Is this what it means to become one, united in flesh?

Does he look beautiful to you like this?

He knows he does. He knows he does when you reverently trail down with your kisses, settling between his thighs again to fill him up with your fingers. He knows he does as you feverishly coax those angelic moans out of him; your eyes are blazing with desire for him. He knows he does as you draw out his climax for as long as you can so wave after wave of pleasure can keep hitting him.

It’s late evening when the two of you fall asleep, tangled together and worn out.

The letter on the vanity lies forgotten; Vil doesn’t particularly care about the results when he already feels your equal.

Scene V: Closing . 　⁺

“Goodness, trickster,” Rook’s exclamation when you emerge in the Pomefiore lounge room in the morning thankfully goes unnoticed by the few students milling about. “Our dorm uniform looks simply ravishing on you.”

“Yeah, mine got quite ruined from yesterday’s events,” your voice sounds raspy as you try to sell your act to Rook, who’s positively cooing over you. What a little prankster. Vil can’t help but glance at you from his favourite armchair. As the culprit responsible for ruining your uniform, he of course had to lend you a uniform. Still, you do look rather good in it.

“Don’t tell me you slept over and didn’t tell me?” Rook plasters a look of mock-hurt on his face, and Vil implores you to shut your mouth for once and put on the best act of your life.

“Something like that,” your expression is innocent, with the exception of your raised eyebrows. You don’t look at Vil at all as you smile at Rook, who’s unfortunately glanced over at Vil, scrutinising him with that disgustingly perceptive look.

“Does that explain the bruises on his neck?” Vil chokes on his smoothie hearing the hunter’s whisper. Of course he forgot something this morning. Of all days.

“Whatever could you mean?” you inquire nonchalantly, straightening the ironed collar of the uniform.

“Oh my,” Rook’s eyes are as wide as saucers as his gaze swivels between you and Vil. It’s rare to see him this gleeful. “You two totally slept-”

“I’m going to need you to shut it, Rook,” you cover the offender’s mouth abruptly before he can say anything more. You’re not denying it though, looking back at Vil with a wicked grin on your face.

Shit.

[nieded]

RR has quickly become my one of my top goto comfort fics (series in this case). I wonder what are yours?

hello! this is a really lovely ask. i'm happy that #rr is a comfort fic for you! i also found a lot of comfort writing it for personal reasons.

i think a highly overlooked fic in fandom that i love is (Slow) Burn, Baby Burn by orchidlocked, E, s1 canon-compliant, 278,780k. i think about this fic a lot, how prior to season 2, it fit so seamlessly into canon, how it made my heart ache, how i related to crowley from the opening chapter just from the way he listened and processed music. there are a lot of challenging things in this story that made me feel uncomfortable but in a good way. in many ways, it made me feel seen.

for other long fics i love dearly, i must also include The False and the Fair by @princip1914, E, AU, 173,064k. it's a captivating story that is brilliantly written. the author is a master at using literary devices and good foreshadowing, so it's technically exquisite as well as just being an incredible story. there's a point in the story (if you know, you know), where i had to put it down, scream, and take myself for a walk.

and

stalwart sun, wily moon by @dustandhalos, M, AU, 369,969k. do you want an incredible art heist story with well-thought-out plot twists, its own accompanying illustrations, and beautiful prose? well, this story is for you! i actually had the pleasure of reading this for the first time as a printed book, which was a special and amazing experience in and of itself.

these two fics above are rec'd a lot (and for good reason!) so here are two more that i rarely ever see.

Curse of the Witchfinder by KitschyKit, M, s1 canon-compliant, 2,244k. i have had many bi people reach out to me about #rr to say they were glad to finally find a fic with good bi representation. well, Curse of the Witchfinder was that for me. and on top of that, i love reading about an older queer because we don't see that in media today. in part, it's because young and sexy sells, but also, we lost a whole generation of gay men to the AIDS epidemic. there's something about this story that undoes me and leaves me completely exposed in so few words.

and

side effects by @darcylindbergh, E, canon-compliant, 7,704k. this is a story about being loved in spite of illness or disregard for illness. it is amazing to me how this is a story about supernatural beings, and yet it feels so human. it's as if someone laid me flat under a microscope.

and so i guess a theme to these recommendations is that i find great comfort in stories that bear the ugliest and most frightened parts of me with love.

[saxandviolins77]

What are your thoughts about what the relationships between the Constructicons are like?

I didn't know if this was G1 specifically or my AU... So why don't we do both?! Better yet! I even finished those relationship charts I talked about with Tumblr user @/the_last_magpie (hi!).

So, first of all. G1. My canon-compliant and headcanon-less take is: they're a group of good friends. Nice and simple. Episodes like "The Core" and "City of Steel" really solidified this for me. They banter, they talk and they work together almost seamlessly. This really endeared me to them because... They're 'Cons and... They're friends! Mind-blowing right?

For G1 is just that, no deep takes for them that don't border on headcanon territory.

Now, if you just wanted a G1 take, you can skip the other part of this post. Now we're entering AU-zone! Of course, the eagle-eyed followers at home know that my Fan Continuity is just: "G1 but sitcom... and the Constructicons are main characters."

LOOOOOONG POOOOOST

I always say they're a polycule, for quick recognition. But if I wanted to be specific, they are really more akin to "fictive-kin", a group unrelated to each other by blood bonds, but which functions much like a family. You can say "found family" too, but that's so diluted nowadays. For extra context, yes, they had lives and were full individuals before they became gestalt. They are all from different backgrounds and socioeconomic realities.

SO RELATIONSHIP CHARTS + MORE EXPLANATIONS GO!

Scrapper is a bottle of joy and supportiveness. The way I write him is some kind of fusion between the idealized figure of fatherhood and the idealized figure of motherhood. He genuinely cares for the team, no ifs or buts.

He is in a romantic relationship with Long Haul. They are a very boring and disgustingly happy couple. They love doing anything together, even if sometimes they have a quarrel they'll always communicate first and try to find common footing. The bad thing is that Long Haul is very silently unhappy with this whole "gestalt" thing and not so silently unhappy about his function in the team. Scrapper feels immensely guilty for that, even if Long Haul just shrugs it off.

Hook and Scrapper are also in a romantic relationship! Their relationship is definitely more "work-based" in a way? Like, Scrapper is in love with Hook's talent and his mind and how he's so logical and cold (and how problematic he is). They make a great working duo because Scrapper knows how to handle Hook perfectly and how to get the best out of him. They're also into more inventive ways of having sex.

Scrapper sees Scavenger as a mentor in a weird way. If Long Haul's common sense and Hook's hard logic aren't doing it for him, he'll go to Scavenger for advice. They're also great friends! Scavenger can control Scrapper when he's getting ahead of himself and Scrapper reassures Scavenger when he's depressed.

Scrapper is in awe of Bonecrusher, not only of his technical abilities but also his fighting skills. He's very worried about his problems to open up and how hard on himself he is because of the whole "gestalt" thing. Tries to reassure him and support him as much as mechanically possible.

Scrapper and Mixmaster are a dangerous duo. Scrapper is really impressed by the other's mind and chemical knowledge that sometimes they simply get in trouble if left alone, with Scrapper saying that everything is fine and nothing will go wrong. Scrapper's general tendency to be unorthodox does NOT go well with Mixmaster's impulsiveness.

Hook is a creature. He has trouble socializing outside of the gestalt and he's emotionally constipated AF.

Hook admires and respects Mixmaster's prowess in chemistry. Very veeeery annoyed by his antics and "jokes". Every interaction of theirs ends with Hook frustrated and angry and with Mixmaster laughing his ass off. Hook still likes Mix' as a friend and will defend him to anyone (awww).

Hook is definitely in love with the enigma that is Scrapper. The thing that made their relationship actually become a thing is the fact that Scrapper respects Hook as a whole, his personhood and skill. Hook rolls his eyes at Scrapper, but will always look out for him... In his own way.

Brooooooo, these guys. They're in a weird non-relationship and they fuck every once in a while, just casual. Hook views Bonecrusher as "the person who is actually worth his time". Maybe even an equal in some way. When Hook needs an opinion, he'll very much go to Bonecrusher first, because he'll say what Hook is already thinking and maybe what Hook wants to think. Just by that, they make each other worse. They also pretend that they can't stand the other, and bicker like hell. (that's how they flirt.)

Hook has a weird, almost romantic kinda platonic relationship with Scavy. I'll just say, they knew each other for a very long time and were each other's comfort in a violent and dangerous environment. Hook has been Scavenger's caretaker for the longest time, and he's very proud of that, in a way. Hook has a very foggy type of possessiveness with Scavy too.

Hook and Long Haul DO NOT see eye to eye. Their whole view of being "gestalt" differs and it makes them fight a lot. They respect each other, but their relationship is estranged.

Mixmaster loves the team and being in a gestalt (where he's finally understood and accepted.) He wouldn't trade them for nothing... Not even a new bigger and improved lab...

Mixmaster really likes Scrapper! He doesn't have that "oh, I gotta respect the boss" mentality or anything, Scrapper is just his friend who takes care of them. Very much likes all of Scrapper's crazy ideas and goes along with them in a heartbeat, also puts his own two cents because he knows he'll be heard.

Hook is like his brother in a way. Loves to bother him and annoy him. Also loves him in general. He'll try to give Hook advice on his problems but sometimes he feels like he doesn't quite get what is going on in Hook's mind.

Long Haul is the person Mixmaster has been trying to understand the most. They are actually very good friends, Mixmaster is a very positive influence on Long Haul's more downer personality... He's also just a real goober. (Thank you Mr.Meanor on Twitter for pointing this dynamic out to me, very endearing!)

Mixmaster and Bonecrusher are best friends, point-and-blank. Bonecrusher will follow Mixmaster on any of his schemes and new projects to take care of him and Mixmaster helps Bonecrusher out when he is in "angst mode".

Mixmaster really likes Scavenger and sees him as his "cool grandpa". He tries to listen to Scavy, but knows that he can be really hard on him sometimes. Cares a lot for his well-being and happiness, even if he drives Scavy insane with his antics...

Scavenger sees the team as his support net but also sees himself as a burden to them. Tries to work 2x as hard to make up for it. (Oh, Scavy... You poor old man.) Might I say that Scavy is also disabled, and suffers from chronic back. Sometimes has difficulty walking, standing, or transforming (does wonders to his self-esteem).

Scavenger is out here gentle parenting Hook ha ha. Ok, seriously Scavy really tries to look out for Hook, he knows he's the only person that can go through him and actually help his problems (they both suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, forgot to mention). Scavy is very much Hook's therapist and friend, and it sure makes him feel useful.

Scavy really tries to take care of Mixmaster and make him stay out of trouble, to... Mixed(lol) results. Scavy genuinely wants Mix' to live his best life and be free from the expectations of outsiders, but he can't help but think: "What will everyone else think?". Really makes an effort to understand Mix' and accommodate for him.

Respects Scrapper more than anything. Tries his best to be helpful and "return the favor", but still, he thinks Scrapper is unreachable. Loves spending time with him, and values the quiet moments between them. Always brings him a cup of energon when he forgets to refuel.

He can't treat Bonecrusher like Hook and that confuses him. He'll try to press and coddle him, but it only works in making Bonecrusher more distant. Respects how Bonecrusher values and cares for the team, but he can see this is very much a responsibility and trauma response and not something that comes naturally to him.

Since Long Haul is more stern than Scrapper, Scavy tends to REALLY put weight on anything he does, says, or thinks. Really respects Long Haul and finds him impressive and a figure of inspiration. When Long Haul is around he pretends he's not in pain, even if he's having a really bad flare-up.

Talk about being emotionally constipated. Bonecrusher really makes this "nonchalant", "aloof" and "detached" persona but the truth is, he values these five guys more than he values his own life.

Thinks of Scavenger as a "little guy I gotta protect". Keeps an eye on him to make sure he's not stressing himself or doing more than he can, and will often take his tasks for himself. Doesn't really know how to talk to him without making him think he's mad at him, really trying to balance the persona and the "making the gestalt happy" thing with this one.

Respects Long Haul. Even when he doesn't agree with him, he'll disagree in silence. However, in comfortable conversation, he'll freely pick on Long Haul and try to wrestle with him. Really thinks Long Haul should use his strength to fight Autobots and is death-set on being his teacher.

Bonecrusher is crazy loyal to Scrapper, like CRAZY LOYAL. He respects Scrapper so much he'll pick fights on his behalf. To him, every word Scrapper says is law and he should be the one to take it upon himself to fulfill his every wish (Scrapper lowkey hates this). Also endeared by how chill and caring Scrapper is.

Values Mixmaster's friendship and company a lot. Makes sure to protect him from himself and from anyone who means him harm. Secretly enjoys his antics and laughs at his stupid jokes. More willing to open up to him due to his carefree nature.

Bruh moment again. Bonecrusher also thinks of Hook as "my equal but not really". Pretends to hate him, but actually values his opinion and most of the time not only gets where he is coming from but will share the same viewpoint. Very angry to get used as his "personal bodyguard"... won't stop getting into fights because Hook crossed someone they both hated. These guys are disgusting and they should die, now.

Long Haul is the odd one out. He likes the guys, sure... But he very much doesn't like the whole gestalt concept. This is just his job.

He's so deep in love with Scrapper, it's ridiculous. Values Scrapper more than anything, will go to hell to make him happy, puts him above himself, and is just generally sappy with him. Sure, he's more reclusive, so the way he shows love is different from Scrapper's. Maybe he'll put a blanket over him, remember his favorite human song, make food for him- ok, I'll stop because I'm getting sick just from thinking about them.

Respects Bonecrusher a lot, even if he thinks he can be a bit over-the-top in... Generally everything. Doesn't like all of his enthusiasm for fighting and teaching him how to do it, but whatever. Doesn't mind talking to him, even if he has "Hook Behaviour" sometimes.

Cares for Scavy, and doesn't know how to show it. Hates it when Scavenger goes out of his way to "prove how useful he is". Thinks Scavy should value his own health more and stop worrying about others. Even if some projects will need to have their deadline extended, it doesn't matter in the long run.

Rocky relationship with Hook, respects his skills but does not respect his mindset. He definitely gets mad pissed when Hook goes over the deadline and budget because he "just needed to get this part perfect". Also doesn't get his distaste for people outside the gestalt and thinks he's crazy for this. Also also, doesn't know what an OCD is.

Even he is surprised with how good friends he and Mixmaster are. He may not find everything he does funny, but he tries to understand what is going on with Mixmaster's mind and talk to him equal to equal. Defends Mixmaster even if he knows he is 100% in the wrong, a little bit ashamed of his lack of professionalism but damn if he isn't endeared by the guy. Will scold him later, probably with Scrapper there to nod and agree.

.

TL;DR: these bitches are dysfunctional but love is love ig ❤️.

[raelis1]

Okay, @midnightestsun, this is for you!From longest to shortest, almost all are R/E, background Ben/Bev, sometimes Bill/Mike, Stan/his canon wife Patty.

Fix-its, Eddie (and sometimes Stan) don't die, post-Derry 2.0 get-together, canon-compliant in everything else, basically variations on 'Eddie divorces Myra, moves in with Richie (or vice versa), they figure their shit out, a sexy happily-ever-after ensues)

Now What I'm Gonna Say May Sound Indelicate by shinycopperpenny (this one is unfinished, although I hear the author's still working on it and doesn't intend to abandon it), but it's 370k of slow-burn goodness, pining and quality writing. It's really great.

Things that Happen After series by shinycopperpenny (1st story is Richie/Eddie, 2nd is Ben/Bev, but with R/E as a background pairing).

Our Perfect Secret-Keeping by cathedraltunes

After Derry by pineapplecrushface

Risk-Seeking Behavior by Dwarfankylosaur - this one is also unfinished and ends on a cliffhanger, BUT LISTEN! It's so fucking funny, and the pining is delicious, and the characterization is so on point, I cannot recommend it enough. It's one of my faves.

when everything feels like the movies by glorious_spoon

little pieces of the nothing by glorious_spoon

we were always here at the right time by fuckener

New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring

it's about time that you just unwind by fuckener

Calling Cards by andloawhatsit

Fix-its, Derry townhouse smut (which involves cheating on Myra, in case that's a deal-breaker)

A Taste of Salt by bottle_of_smoke (which also doubles as post-Derry get-together)

the places you will be from by glorious_spoon

when lightning strikes by anon

out on the bevel by anon

Fix-its where Eddie does die, but is brought back from the dead somehow (sometimes with Stan!)

Angarum by andloawhatsit (lovely time-travel AU, gives a lot of thought to Eddie's life pre-Derry 2.0 and his relationship with Myra's family)

Nothing Dies in Derry by glorious_spoon (ghost!Eddie and Stan)

the sound of your feet upon the ground by glorious_spoon (insp by Orpheus and Eurydice)

Non-shippy fix-it (ships are implied, but not the focus)

the chain by younglegends (Stan-centric gen, time-loop)

hours they seemed like days by PositivelyVexed (Mike-centric gen, time-travel)

Richie and Eddie meet as adults during the 27 years gap between the movies and don't remember each other (but hook up nonetheless! Usually involves cheating on Myra)

Fingers Crossed That I'm Something You'll Keep by thefourthvine

fruit from a forbidden tree by glorious_spoon

Memories of a Stolen Place by glorious_spoon

The Lost Words by bottle_of_smoke

Sooner or Later in Life by pineapplecrushface (technically a no-Pennywise au, which I usually don't read, but can be read as canon divergence au)

Pennywise takes on Eddie's form to torture Richie (my favorite trope that should be WAY more popular 😢)

all that you wish by liesmyth

No Cash Value by fullborn

It wore all their faces by remusjohn

give that twist of grace by glorious_spoon

Richie and Eddie get together as teenagers

Euphemisms by what_alchemy

maybe when the summer ends by charactershoes

ice cold pool by orphan_account

Today is the greatest by pineapplecrushface

don't swallow the cap by scorpiod

No Makeup On, That's My Sugar by shinycopperpenn

Social media/Outsider POV/Humor/Richie's stand-up routine fic

Richie Tozier is famous and loves his boyfriend, OK by kyaticlikestea

The Exoneration of Richie Tozier by Blissymbolics

Outside, Looking In by andloawhatsit

I killed a clown. AMA! by liesmyth

What Beauty Is For by pineapplecrushface

Richie Tozier Is [Fill in the Blank] by pineapplecrushface

Richie Tozier: The Manchild Tour by hellotailor

Tragic non-fix-its (because sometimes some angst makes a happy ending even sweeter!)

soul, I hear you calling by serenityfails (ghost!Eddie and Stan, gives closure and catharsis, but they stay dead. I cried the whole night!)

Waiting for the Click by waketosleep (canon, missing scenes)

Broke Free on a Saturday Morning by PositivelyVexed (this one is post-canon Richie/Mike, but it deals a lot of their grief and guilt over Eddie and Stan's deaths)

Plus One by fuckener (ghost!Eddie again)

walk it off by liesmyth (also ghost!Eddie)

PWPs

Clowntown Kinkmeme Fills by glorious_spoon

reddie kink meme by anon

And the lone soulmate AU! (I don't usually go for them, but this one got me good. I cried and everything)

Hand On My Stupid Heart by what_alchemy

Also, you gotta keep in mind all of the fic I've read heavily draws from book canon, so if you haven't read the book, some things might be confusing.

The most important plot/characterization points from the book that aren't in the movies but are often referenced in fic are

Maturin the Turtle. Basically an omnipotent god-like creature who's Pennywise's natural enemy and a friend to the Losers, but he has some prime directive non-interfering policy, so he can't or doesn't want to off Pennywise himself and relies on the Losers to do it. He's the ultimate deus ex machina, so pretty much every fix-it fic references him in some way.

Pennywise's 'true form' (or more like, as close it can get to how it truly looks before a human goes insane from looking at it) is a giant female spider who lays eggs (which the Losers destroy)

Eddie has a supernatural sense of direction, basically a human navigator

Stan is obsessed with birds, so he's usually associated with a bird in some way. And Eddie really likes cars, trains and running

Richie constantly calls Eddie 'Eds', 'Eddie-Spaghetti' and 'cute' (usually while pinching his cheek), and Eddie pretends to dislike it

In the book, Pennywise assumes the form of a werewolf to scare Richie, and it's frequently brought up in fic. Fic writers like to use the werewolf as representation of Richie's internalized homophobia

The 'leper' Eddie sees in the movie also offers him a blowjob in the book. 'I'll blow you for a dime, I'll blow you for free' is a quote that's often used in fic (and interpreted as Eddie possibly being gay, especially given that his marriage to his wife is basically sexless and, in his own words, 'psychological incest'- also book canon)

It's only used once or twice in the movies, but the phrase 'beep-beep, Richie' is a very frequent occurence in both the book and fic (code for 'shut up', basically)

Adult Beverly has a best female friend Kay who's a passionate feminist

In the movies, Ben has an interest in Derry history, but in the book, it's entirely Mike's thing. Ben's thing is building things (he helps the Losers buld a dam at some point)

[theallianceofcelestials]

I think killcode had this small inclination towards family in the beginning in canon, if he didn't he wouldn't have called eclipse his son knowing it's not something he could really use to manipulate eclipse but calling bloodmoon his sons absolutely work as a manipulation tactic and eclipses entire reason for his aggression at the beginning is because moon was still around and what moon said when eclipse tried to talk to him. And sun seems like he was so eager to have some sort of family, good or bad, and we'll eclipse and killcode were moon but now they also have a lot of sun in the . So I feel there would be a lot of manipulation from killcode/eclipse towards both sun and new moon/Nexus to try and made the two see killcode/eclipse as family to make them more inclined to help get them their own body and keep them around. I could imagine after that they keep the two unaware of when they kill, keep them close and happy and compliant and well if sun and new moon/Nexus ever find out I doubt eclipse/killcode would have anything against a little memory tampering to keep their new family from leaving unless sun or new moon/Nexus were about to keep calm and understanding about it then they wouldn't have even hinted at the thought. And well if the creator still sends Earth their way I'm still unsure of or how it would go

-🩸

I'm putting this here later because I kinda got debaty for some reason :P Don't worry about it, I'm just engaging in my favourite hobby of analyzing my hyperfixation. You can ignore most of it, seein as AUs are all in good fun (￣▽￣) I'm just like this for some reason

Killcode called them his kids mostly as a manipulation tactic yes, but also as a powerplay I think. Like as much as I love dadcode, he was absolutely awful and didn't really care about neither Eclipse nor Bloodmoon. So to me it'd make sense that he'd basically give Eclipse the middle finger by calling him his son, and thus placing himself above him in some sort of hierarchy, which'd absolutely grate on Eclipse's nerves

Also, if I remember correctly, one of the first things Eclipse ever said to Moon was "I'm going to kill your brother", before he was really provoked. Eclipse himself says when we see him waking up right after the separation that he wasn't supposed to get left behind, and that they had a plan to kill Sun. He was hostile from the beginning, not just after talking with Moon. He may be rather peaceful for one, but he's still a killcode. The only reason he really showed himself was for answers and to torture Moon. He didn't care, but also weirdly did, for Sun. He'd have probably killed him

And one of the big parts of the first Eclipse arc was that he can't be taken out of Sun, because his code can't take another separation. Moon's was already miraculous enough, which destabilised him I think. Eclipse had to be expelled by magic to really be rid off. Tho it's a fact I ignore as well most of the time, so there's that.

Also I think Sun's want to be family with Moon was a survival reflex. Like Moon was absolutely awful to him, and being brothers put him out of the immediate line of fire. It bettered their relationship, however marginally, which is why I think he was really pushing that. And they're also technically two halves of a whole, knowing each other inside and out quite literally. Like Moon mentioned to Sun that whenever they switched, even after their relationship became better, he always woke up in the place where Sun put what he didn't want. So to me it always kinda felt a bit questionable whether it was entirely genuine at the beginning.

So I think Killcode/Eclipse would be more likely to keep these two around for fun. Like they can just take over the body, Sun can't stop them, he won't even notice it if it's not pointed out to him. He has absolutely no idea what went wrong, only that Moon doesn't remember a thing, Monty doesn't care that much about stuff, and then later he may or may not be approached by this weird entity/entities in his head who aren't supposed to be there, and claim to be cut off pieces of his brother's code.

But if they progressed into the happy family, Sun would not be helpful and calm when they kill. He hates that.

Like current Sun's kinda chill with death and murder now right? He doesn't fight as much about their enemies needing to die as he did in the past right?

Well current Sun has been battered and broken way too many times, having never died and having witnessed and experienced every piece of trauma life threw at the family.

Sun back in the days we are currently speaking of, absolutely abhors murder. Current Sun does too, to be fair with him, but old Sun used to be VOCAL about it. He'd always start reasoning with Moon about just how awful it is whenever it happened, and you could really feel just how dejected he was whenever it happened anyway.

And bloody murder, something the killcode craves, is something he absolutely would not be able to stand. He would not help in any way with it, aside maybe clean up after it all, which I think is something Killcode/Eclipse would absolutely adore torturing him with. And then gaslight him into thinking there's nothing wrong, and because Sun'd rather go along with stuff like this so he's not in pain as much, he would fall in line.

Newmoon/Nexus would be against it however. Because right now it's just Newmoon, and Newmoon condemned morally questionable behaviour. Even if he also partake in it, but that was somewhat because he followed in the footsteps of his predecessor. Like he absolutely had no issues doing the wrong thing to protect his family. That was a trait he also shared, even if he didn't like it. Becuase it made him fear he was as bad as the old one, and he wanted to avoid that through ANY means neccessary.

But he doesn't exactly have that right now, he can't watch the channel, only hear the stories Sun'd tell him, and maybe get the occasional semi-playful jabs and taunts from Eclipse/Killcode about being a dumber reboot.

So honestly I don't know if Newmoon would help or not with the murder. Potentially he would be, seeing as that's what he came into. Or mayne those couple months it took for Killcode/Eclipse to appear were enough for him to decide he wants none of the shady stuff. That's a 50-50 on what you decide for this AU.

And Earth being sent there happened because the Creator wanted her as a clueless file uploader there, so his own crimes will be transferred to Sun and Moon, because he's a jerk who wanted them to suffer.

She might just be instantly murdered, depending on how she tickles Eclipse/Killcode. She might be completely wiped of everything because of the whole file uploading, so she'll be just reset too. She might get murdered later on when she starts protesting against the questionable things going on here. Or she might manage to fix this mess and somehow make them a family.

So uhh, yeah, I had some ideas/opinions that feel free to throw out the window lol. My brain just went off like what I do when Sunray and I make an AU. I'm aware it can be annoying :P

Just know I'm looking at the concept you've come up with big autistic eyes, and I'd be happy to hear all about it, even if I just went off here for some reason

[dayseternal-blog]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Bunny-senpai!!! 💕

I answered an ask similar to this one last year in March and I don't think my answers have changed...

I rewrote each blurb haha, so it's not an exact copy-paste from before.

1 “It’s No Secret” - Rated M, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Hinata returns to Konoha after 5 years studying abroad in the Moon Kingdom. She just wants to enjoy her last year of high school as a normal girl, but blossoming love forces her to confront her future. - My top fave. Back then, I wrote this like I was possessed. This story consumed my mind, and I was posting chapters every 1 or 2 weeks. I'm amazed at myself from back then. No, it's not my technically best writing, but I was having so much fun thinking up all kinds of scenes!!! Oh, to be a fanfic writing newbie all over again. Major love to everyone who's read this flirty teenage shenanigans mess and enjoyed it!!! One day I will write part two 🥺

2 “Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war. - This fic idea came to me sometime after I read agitosgirl's "A Special Friend," and I wanted Moooooore!!! I wanted more of this hurt/comfort dynamic between NaruHina!!!! So bam, the fic almost wrote itself, it flowed so easily (except for when it didn't). I'm so happy that people reread this fic, and then tell me that they're rereading it :D. Once in awhile I reread it, too, and think, oh, I should fix that sentence, or whatever loll, but I don't. I kind of think it's nice to leave it as it is, imperfect in little ways to bother me. Please read this fic and recognize that I was copying Katarinahime's writing techniques throughout.

3 “Awkward Jocks” - Rated G, 1990s High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. She knows that if he were to ever ask her out, she would accept in a heartbeat. After all, he’s the star quarterback and basketball player. Plus, she’s liked him since…forever. But when her home phone rings, and he’s on the other line, she hangs up. - It's interesting to me that even after all the fics I've written over the years, it's a few of my oldest fics that take the top 3. I guess I really have been trying to write for myself since the start. This one is based off of my ex-coworker's love story. Even though I don't work with her anymore, I still think of her as my role model for good leadership. When you read this, I hope you can feel how much I love her!

4 “About You” - Rated G, 1970s High School AU, One-shot. A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other. - This is my most personal fanfic. Based on stories my parents told me and stories I found online from people of their generation, I tried to dive into their time using NaruHina. Ever since I was inspired to write after reading emmykay's "Torch Song," I had wanted to write a fic with Japanese-Hawaiian pidgin dialogue. This fic is close to my heart, but it's not higher on the list because there are inaccurate details that bother me 😅. I'm thinking of writing a fic about my great grandparents' generation one day, I've done a ton of research for it! Anyway, I'm so happy that others love this fanfic, too.

5 “Matcha” from “Shared Vows” - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto calls Hiashi “father” for the first time. - According to my previous blurb, I picked this one because I loved how I structured it, I thought I wrote it really well. I also loved the notion of Naruto finding his own family. On deeper reflection, I think I also picked this one over "Finally Home" because I have a not-so-secret agenda for reconciliation between Hinata and Hiashi, fed by my own family's dynamic with my dad.

If I were to recommend any one of these for someone to read, I'd say they should start with Nightdreams or Matcha as an intro to some of my work since canon universe fanfic is always easier to digest.

[jin-jamm-desu]

SatoSugu but it T4Tppppa

Fluffy/No Lemon!, GAY, trans Gojo, Trans Geto, technically Canon Compliant, doomed!yaoi because if I can't be happy then neither can you, T4T, fanfiction

Paring- Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto

WARNINGS- [Name/Pronoun] - when a character is called by their dead name or they are misgendered. I won't call them or make up a deadname for them, this is just to show you when its happening.

Red is for [Geto]

Blue is for [Gojo]

-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-

Part 1

- it was so odd coming to Jujutsu High in Tokyo- such a big empty school, away from civilization in a way. it was nestled aways in the mountains. and at some point- you'd have to stop taking a car so you could walk the winding stairs on foot.

- 'this should be fun', was thought by a certain new sorcerer to the school.

- '[he] calls [himself] [Suguru Geto], and [he] has just transferred here from a different school in the city', spoke Yaga, one of the few teachers at the highschool. he said this to two of his pupils, Satoru Gojo and Ieiri Shoko.

- he had known both of them since they came to the school.

- Gojo hailed from the most prestigious jujutsu clan, the Gojo Clan, and was heralded as 'The Strongest' since his birth. he was the only sorcerer on earth who wielded the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques. as of now, noone was able to match him, for he was a greatly apt and skilled fighter. monumentally great and perfect at all things he set out to do. but even if those were the luxuries afforded to him by his title and skill- he was not free of the weight of the chains that shackled him to his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer.

- being the strongest, as one could only describe Satoru Gojo, meant keeping and holding and uplifting extreme expectations in the jujutsu world - at least, that's what Gojo was taught since birth.

- Ieiri Shoko was one of Gojo's closest friends. She was a sorcerer who was gifted with a great grasp of RCT, Reverse Curse Technique, and was on her way to becoming one of the greatest jujutsu technical doctors today. She was more aloof, as one could put it, than Nanami and Yaga combined. even so- she always found a way to put up with Gojo's attitude.

- Gojo didn't seem very interested in the new transfer student, so he didn't hear when Yaga had told him that he'd be the one to show [him] around the school. after Shoko left for something else, and after having repeated himself for a 3rd time when Gojo was listening- Yaga sighed, stood up and walked towards the window where he began to muse-

- 'Gojo', started the teacher, 'make sure you're nice to the new kid. make 'em feel welcome. i heard that [he] was kicked out of his old school for not only the misuse of [his] cursed technique, but also for something that seemed more... personal. hopefully you'll both get along. i'd hate to see someone feel as cast out as you did before.'

- the mention of the first days when Gojo came to jjh made him cringe. he tried to keep himself neutral to all things, but remembering the things he had endured before coming here was something he couldn't stand the think about.

- Gojo stood and bowed silently before leaving the room to find the new student. face stoney and uncharacteristic, he made his way through the almost bare balls of JJH. passing a few students that whispered and gawked at him in envy, intimidation and judgement. unfortunately for him, as much as he'd like to not admit it, almost everyone knew who he was before coming here. yet not a single soul even dared to confront him about it.

@arcielee @katkot333 @humanransome-note @sillyariii @numelfanclub

End of Part 1

If you want to I will create a tag list for you

[bugwolfsstuff]

@parrotxx You asked earlier and I already had it in my drafts for a bit so heres all ive written for it so far.

I wonder if this still technically counts as canon compliant cus its the same scene and dialogue and doesnt go against anything in the book because we dont get Loki's thoughts.

Anyways im having a fucking blast with Loki's narration.

------

I do love my kids, despite popular belief and some of my actions. Yes, I'm aware that forcing one of my daughters to marry a giant doesn't exactly scream 'Parent of the Year'. But it'll only be for a day at the latest. Then I'll be free and kill everyone—except my children and my wife.

That snake's gonna get it, though.

"Welcome, Magnus Chase!" I grinned at the boy, "I hope you'll excuse me if I don't get up.".

"Gods." The boy muttered, looking at me with...

Was that pity in his eyes? I haven't seen that kind of feeling towards me in years. More pure hate and disdain is what I'm used to.

I chuckled, forgetting for a moment. "Oh no; no gods here! They never visit. They sealed us in and left us. It's just me and my lovely wife, Sigyn. Say hello, Sigyn."

Sigyn stayed silent, as usual. She looked up at the entourage but didn't show any emotion.

"Oh, that's right," I said bitterly. "Sigyn hasn't spoken in a thousand years—ever since the Aesir, in their infinite wisdom, butchered our sons and abandoned us here to suffer for eternity."

It was actually two thousand and sixteen years, ten months, and four days. But hey, who's counting?

"But where are my manners? This is a happy occasion! How are you, Thyrm, son of Thyrm, son of Thyrm, son of Thyrm?"

Happy for me, more like. I can't say the same for anyone else in this cave; most of them will be dead. Sigyn hasn't been truly happy for two thousand and sixteen years, ten months, and four days, and my daughters have already made their feelings well known about this.

The giant groom—nope, nope! I can't even say it, and if I have to ever again, I'm throwing myself on Heimdall's sword—the giant looked uncomfortable.

The discomfort might have been because it was his wedding day, which was understandable. I remember my wedding day with my first wife, Angrboda. Gods, I was so nervous I shapeshifted into a goat at the altar. It was so embarrassing!

Or the discomfort could have been because he was in my presence. Which is also understandable, considering my —mostly true— terrible reputation.

Either way, I was enjoying his discomfort. I'm really not liking the way he is looking at my daughter.

"H-hello, Loki. It—it's actually just three Thryms..."

I do not care, I thought.

"And I am ready to seal our alliance with a marriage".

And I have been ready to be done with it since you walked in. I also thought but decided to, for once, keep my mouth shut voluntarily.

Instead I said, "Yes, of course! You brought the Skofnung sword!"

[whinlatter]

reading | listening | writing | summer '23

sulking in bed with tonsillitis - never had it before, thought i was built different, crushed to discover i am, in fact, built the same (sickly). so thought was overdue a share of some of the fics i have loved that i've read these past few months (even though my TBR remains colossal), as well as some tune/travel updates, a lil writing check in, and a lil sneak peek of chapter eight of Beasts because the ex boyfriends are back, baby!!!

Reading

Bookbinding by @saintsenara (Myrtle/Tom Riddle, AU, 35k, multi-chapter, completed)

look. this is how it's going to go. i'm going to say myrtle/tom riddle AU, you're going to say 'are you right in the head you're a canon compliant girlie kindly get a grip on yourself'. but then you're going to click the link, and read it, and then you'll be chuckling and filled with boundless delight and want to read this stonkingly well-written properly funny rich magical little fic all over again as soon as you've finished and you'll have me to thank for it. it's a rom-com, people. dare you not to be enchanted. their ship name is literally tyrtle? the tag is 'she said: I can fix him! and she's right'. (and then you're going to read this hinny one, also by @saintsenara as a gift to me as a delectable chaser and lose your mind!)

everything i am is yours by @brightlybound (Hinny, AU, 4k, oneshot)

remember when i was like, AUs, not my bag! and then i read a load of AUs and realised i was talking out of my arse? weird. anyway, here is a lovely little hinny AU that i've gone back to a bunch because it's just really beautifully written and deeply charming and actually does something a lot of muggle AUs don't always do, which is play with harry's characterisation ever so deftly to say, hey, harry is harry, but if nothing bad had happened to him and james and lily lived, he'd be a little bit different, wouldn't he? this harry is our harry, but he's just that bit more confident, that bit more capable of digging an active flirt out of his back pocket. and that makes me happy!

The Last Something That Meant Anything by anonymous (Percy POV, Percy/Audrey and Percy/Oliver, short multichapter, 21k, completed)

i have a lot of percy thoughts these days. fanon percy, steeped in weasley bashing, doesn't do very much for me, so i really loved this belter of a percy character study that considers him both within and apart from his family in a way that attends to his trauma and inner life, but also shows the truth: he's not doing well, he does fuck up with a big moral lapse, and then he has work to do - interesting, deep, personal work - to make it right. please check the tags with this one, as it does contain reference to SA, but really do recommend a read if you feel able.

haunted mansion by @bronzeagepizzeria (Sirius-POV, 1.5k, oneshot)

this brilliant short fic really left me with so many sirius feelings: it just gets the claustrophobia and the grief of sirius' last year alive exactly right, and it just has these fabulous cameos that have detonated a thousand deep sirius thought bombs in my head forever. l o v e d it

perpendicular by akissinacrisis (Hinny, AU, 4.5k, oneshot)

harry/ginny AU, where harry goes to stonewall high and meets ginny at a party. it's so tender and beautiful and stiff and sad and understated, and it's really stayed with me. also it does what all good hinny fics must do (have them chatting. just talking, hanging out, shooting the shit together. they just love to chat, those two lil magnets snapping to each other).

empire builders by she-crow (Prongsfoot, possibly canon-compliant but technically AU I guess, 25k oneshot)

i read this laid out beside a lake and needed at least four more days of lying by a lake to think about it. it's a) one of the most beautiful fics i've ever read b) rip your heart out and staple it heart-wrenching and good and c) some of the best sirius and james characterisations i've read that really serves as a manifesto for playing around with marauders multiships to really different characters in such different lights. the other beauty of it is that it could be canon-compliant? like it could be read as a fabulous doomed tragic love affair between two boys completely infatuated with each other and not sure where to put it. and i think that's kind of gorgeous. so yeah uhh big fan

Notes from the Ravenclaw Bulletin Board by lostrobin (Gen, 11k, completed)

this is a fic told through (very funny) little notes on the ravenclaw bulletin board. been thinking a lot about different house dynamics atm and this a) made me laugh out loud and b) really think, you know who is really sound? those ravenclaw kids. love those bookworms. the crookshanks and fred and george cameos really make this, too. you'll zip through it and you'll giggle. there's nothing more to it!

Listening (while out and about)

i listened to things like this:

pink light by muna (saw em live, lost my mind!) | space invader by the national (anthemic) | mountain by the joy (they're too good) | the greater wings (album) by julie byrne (literally stunning) | gorilla by lil simz (best beanie man sample of all time?)

Writing

other than this birthday microfic for mr potter, a bit of tinkering and dawdling with other misc projects that i pick up and put down over and over again, and my usual meta nonsense, i've just been writing Beasts! put four chapters out since last check-in, and am hard at work on chapter eight, which has some of my favourite scenes in the fic so far. we're gearing up for some chapters away from the castle (writing the winter break chapters in august. what am i like!) and some scenes i've been sat on for ages and some others that i'm having so so so much fun writing. i'm a michael corner stan now? who knew?

She lugs the trunk off the bus at the final stop and traipses around the warren of streets in Soho for a while, looking for the address written on the piece of parchment clutched in her hand. Finally, she finds the building, battered door with the doorbell hanging half off, and stands awkwardly in the street, catching her breath, until the machine crackles and a familiar deep voice says: ‘Hello?’ 'Hi, it’s me.’ She clears her throat. ‘It’s Ginny, I mean.’  ‘Oh, hi. Come on up.’  The hallway has an unmistakably damp, squat-like feel about it. Loud laughter spills out of the flat on the first floor, and a group of uni students, squabbling amicably among themselves, parade past her on the second floor staircase as she rings the doorbell and loiters in the corridor, feeling hopelessly out of place. ‘Your hair’s so nice!’ one girl with thick black boots and a face full of piercings says admiringly as she passes by, just as the door to the flat swings open.  ‘Oh, good, you found it. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to.’ ‘Why wouldn’t I be able to?’ Michael rolls his eyes. ‘You know, Ginny, seen as it's Christmas, maybe we could try not to argue before you’ve even set foot in my flat.'

okay, one more 🕺

THE BOYS OF 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE INVITE YOU TO  THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY OF THE CENTURY Eight til late, BYOB because we’re skint THE THEME: ‘MUGGLE MAGIC’ (BRING OUT THE MUGGLE IN YOU -  BECAUSE MUGGLES ARE MAGIC, TOO!)

[dreamtigress]

20 Fanfic Author Questions

Thanks for the tags, @theprinceandagcd, @tinyarmedtrex, and @onthewaytosomewhere. I did one of these a while back, and it's fun to see what answers have changed.

1. How many works on AO3?

31. Ranging in length from 542 to 75, 125 words.

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

554,762

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos

Plan van Vertrouwen

Intermezzo

Plan van Leder

Geliefde

Krai Kat

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Six of Crows / Grishaverse

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. I absolutely adore interacting with people who have taken the time to not only read, but leave a comment. 

6. Angstiest Ending?

I've got a bunch with angst in there that wrap up in less angst, or resolution, if not a happy ending. Probably Verbanden & Geesten, though, because while Kaz has mostly gotten himself to an even keel, he has Gone Through It in chapter 3. Runner up would be Geliefde, because Inej sails off, and Kaz is not okay.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

For wholeseomness: Plan van Leder, because Kaz finally says "I love you" out loud to Inej.

For uh, "happy endings"... Well, that would be most of my smutty stories. Heh.

8. Do you get hate?

I am very lucky to say, not really? Not yet? The closest was one anonymous user that seemed sad I am slowly headed towards Polycrows.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, unabashedly. 74% of the current published stories contain explicit content. Some of it is sweet, some of it is kinky, and I always strive to show healthy, consent oriented fun.

10. Do you write crossovers?

At the moment, I have so many canon compliant/future canon stories on the docket that I am not sure I will ever get to doing crossovers, but I am not ruling it out. I did have fun conjecturing an Omegaverse version of some of my OC's with my partner tonight, though.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but that would be amazing.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not entirely. I am working on world building an entire set of stories about two OC's with my partner, that I very much want to give them credit for, since they keep writing snippets of back story and such that fit in SO well with my existing canon. If/when those stories get written and published, I plan to give them credit.

14. All time favorite ship?

Kanej, baby. Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, from Six of Crows. Wesper is a fairly close second, though.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I so need more time to write. I have SO MANY WIPs and ideas and outlines.

16. Writing strengths?

Witty banter and subtle character development through dialogue. (The latter was said by one of my writing friends.) Editing for myself.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

Length... sometimes I know pieces are getting long, but I just keep finding things that want to be in the story. Sometime they get edited down, and sometimes, the piece just ends up at novella length. Whoops. Getting bogged down by intermediary scenes. Sometimes, I just need to skip ahead to the next bit of action. See also, pieces getting too long.

Edit runs until I feel like the piece is crafted as well as I can get it. Double edged sword, this one.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

So, because I write Six of Crows fics, I include a lot of the 'foreign' languages, and have 'invented' even more of each language. I even went to far as to do a fic based on language lessons between two of my OC's, Een Taal Aanleren. I like to include a translation guide in the notes, but also try very hard to have the other language explained in context and naturally flowing exposition.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically? Pern. I just didn't really write any of it down on paper.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

It's a bit of a tie at the moment, honestly. Verbanden & Geesten for various reasons, like the gang meeting from Jesper's POV. And then chapter 3, and it's view into Kaz's past and childhood memories. It's tied with Vakantie. Because we get ALL sorts of Kaz and Inej insights. More of Kaz's past, but this time, he's *sharing* it with Inej. They're getting to try on a whole different life for a week, and they have so much quality time together.

Soft Tagging: Anyone who wants to fill this out?

[rose-tinted-vision]

1, 11, 14, 16, 17, 19 for the behind the scenes of fic asks! ((this is hualianisms, i can't send asks from my sideblog🥲))

Hello @hualianisms!! Thank you for the asks (๑>◡<๑)

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

(／。＼)...am I going to embarrass myself on main today because the first fic that I published on ao3 was for the ReoNagi pairing from Blue Lock, but I technically wrote fic for Inazuma Eleven when I was a wee little child. What was yours?

If you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be?

Definitely angst, it comes easier to me than fluff or smut 〜(＞＜)〜

If you were stuck on an island with only two characters, who would you pick?

Only two? That's a hard choice >_< Shi Qingxuan (TGCF) and Yu Shisan (A Journey to Love), probably. SQX can just whisk us away~

What is your most underrated fic?

I'll take underrated to mean not doing as well as I thought it would since I really liked this? It's a toss up between one of my Link Click fics (Qiao Ling centric, S2 canon compliant) and one of my earlier Mysterious Lotus Casebook fics (Gen, LXY/LLH centric). I really enjoyed the process of exploring what went on in Season 2 of Link Click through Qiao Ling's eyes, and thought that there weren't enough fics featuring her, which is why it's a fic that's really dear to me. As for the Li Xiangyi centric fic (i must admit that imagining pre-canon stuff is a favourite of mine), I wanted to explore the process of Li Xiangyi becoming Li Lianhua, and how he had changed so much over ten years. It was fun to imagine him traversing the jianghu and picking up various skills along the way! But I do understand that Genfics aren't for everyone, so it's okay. I do have more recent ones that aren't doing that well but I have...complicated feelings regarding those

What fic are you most proud of?

(I also cannot simply choose one, my bad).

I have this ShiGuang fic that was loosely inspired by a manhwa called "The tale of the Yellow dragon", that was nearly complete by the time the S2 finale came out and I figured, why not throw Lu Guang's lines in there? and it fit, so I was really happy with how it turned out :D Another fic that I'm proud of is Tales of Tianji Manor, mainly because I wasn't sure that people would enjoy a fic told from Madam He's pov, but the fandom was so nice about it ^^ and it was fun to explore the OT3 dynamics from her pov!! and (last one, I promise!!) I was really happy with how the ZhanHua fic turned out :D Zhan Yunfei was one of my favourite side characters, and explore his ten years of yearning and devotion was interesting.

Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

I'd say the hardest is Di Feisheng's (MLC) pov for me, I'm not sure if it's writers block or burnout, but trying to wrangle his character has been a challenge lately. Another would be Ning Yuanzhou (A Journey to Love), because the man thinks so damn much, and he has to be a leader, a lover, a father and a brother all at the same time. Oh and Yi Zhi Hua's (White Cat Legend) tone is quite tricky for me to grasp...

easiest would probably be what I call the "simp characters" (not that I'm calling them one-dimensional, it's just that they have Prioritised that One Special Person): Fang Duobing for one, he has a rather straightforward personality, he places his family and Li Lianhua first, and he's honest about his feelings. Qiu Qingzhi is another. (it's harder to see beneath his layers but) imo his motivations were mainly to protect Li Bing. and I just really like to write Yu Shisan, the man loves so deeply and freely.

[gladosluver]

thinkin about my fic idea ive been curating for the past few months.

DANGANRONPA: MITARAI

instead of being a backstory series like dr: kirigiri/togami, it's the story of what ryota did after the tragedy and how ended up at the future foundation. takes place immediately after the events of trigger happy havoc

why specifically him? i thought it would be interesting (and torturous) for him to see the true effect of junko manipulating his talent. trying to overcome the despair of losing his classmates, as well as his reaction as he realized the full extent of the tragedy.

ryota tries to get as far from hopes peak after hearing about the killing game and how the foundation had apprently rescued the survivors after they defeated junko. he plans to get the foundation's help in reverting the remnants of despair.

along the way he meets a bunch of others with similar goals like finding their families, saving others, rebuilding the world, etc...

in case i do really kickstart this story, i wont spoil who exactly is in here, but i will say it's canon compliant. no original characters will be present, and if they are, they'll be incredibly minor (like the random adults you can talk to in udg)

rather than just including a bunch of ocs, i plan on expanding on characters that are already known, but not really talked about. ie. scrapped/mentioned but never seen characters, thh motives/udg hit list targets, some novel characters, etc

the story will work as a sorta addition/fill-in as to what happened between the end of thh and when ryota joins the foundation. and since it's unknown what any of the characters i'll feature in it were doing at the time, it's ***technically*** not straying from canon if ya think about it

stay tuned if i overcome my writers block and decided to write some!! ive got the entire thing planned out already 😼

[angelasscribbles]

TRR One-Shots

These are all from The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir. For my main master list: click here.

Riley x Multiple LIs

I Do: Riley’s getting married, but someone isn’t happy about it.

Almost: Drake and Riley were always almost something. A Quote me on this prompt story.

Social Climber: Based on the song ‘Fancy’ by Reba McEntire. Riley uses each of the guys as a stepping stone to her true ambitions.

Daylight: Unable to resist his best friend's wife, guilt threatens to take him down.

What Happened in Vegas: The aftermath of the Vegas Fling.

Drake x Riley

Surprise: My submission for Drakes Birthday Bash hosted by @twinkleallnight

First Date: The night before the Beaumont bash, book one. Drake’s point of view.

Fall(ing) in Love: Drake takes Riley to the Stormholt County Fall Festival. But is it a date?

Winter Wonderland: Max schemes to trap Riley and Drake alone at Christmastime. Will they admit their feelings for each other?

Change of Plans: Drake goes after her the night of the coronation.

The Proposal: Drake’s secrecy around his planned proposal causes some angst.

What Happens in New York: Max talks Riley into getting on that plane.

Still Believe: For choices prompts Rewrite Challenge. Crosses TRR with The Lost Boys.

Chain of Love: For the choices prompts Song Rewrite Challenge.

Picture Perfect: Drake and Riley's public image and what goes on in private are two very different things.

Drake x F!OC

Summer Vacation

Birthday Surprise: Short follow up to Summer Vacation

Extra for Birthday Surprise

Liam x Riley

Fate: Liam contemplates who he’d like to choose at the end of the social season, though there’s a reason he can’t follow his heart.

Betrayal: Riley encounters Liam four years after the night of his coronation, but everything she thought she knew is wrong.

Mistakes: Liam sleeps with Hana after Riley is drug out of the coronation. She finds out. Can he win her back?

Mother in Law Hell: Regina creates havoc in Riley and Liam’s marriage.

Obsession: Liam and Riley are in love, but someone isn’t happy about it.

King Breaker: Riley isn’t what she seems. Her actions set off a civil war. Launched the series Insurrection.

Single Again: Riley's most recent divorce is finalized and it's just the opportunity Liam has been waiting for.

Max x Riley

Where Have You Been: Riley disappears from Cordonia, leaving Max heartbroken. But why did she leave and is there a way back for them?

Maximum Frustration: Riley pushes Max’s buttons to find out just how far he’s willing to go. 🍋🍋🍋

The Best Christmas Ever: Max’s friends and family embarrass him with childhood stories. Will this be the night he admits his feelings?

Hana x Riley

Probably a Bad Idea: Riley puts forth Liam as a sperm donor. Hana isn’t really on board.

Leo x Riley

Wild Ride: Technically a Bad Romance one-shot but could be a stand alone Leo x Riley fic so linking it here as well. 🍋🍋🍋

The King's Mistress:

Justin/Anton x Riley

Infatuation: Anton is on a mission but his mark is a massive distraction. 🍋🍋🍋

Other Pairings:

Go Your Own Way: Olivia withdraws from the social season just before the ball, but it’s not exactly canon.

Last Hope: Coronation night shatters everything for this couple. Now what? Short drabble.

Friendship and Family

Friendship: The beginning of Liam and Drake’s friendship.

Confrontation: A conversation that could happen if Liam were paying enough attention.

Coronation: Yet another take on Coronation night. One brother contemplates the effects of his decisions.

Series Compliant:

Yoga Pants: Three Weeks in Ramsford

Pride: Lavender and Crimson

Auld Lange Syne: Forbidden Passion

My Lonely Valentine: The Agreement

[lenorelovesmax]

Thank you @angelosearch for the tag! Took me a while but here I am!

I have to confess I have two ao3 accounts, but one is secret so I'll mostly talk about the stories on LenoreNevermore. I also technically have a third that I deleted after orphaning all my fics.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 4, plus another few on secret account. I also had a few orphaned fics on LenoreNevermore but I don't remember how many.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 73,142 on LenoreNevermore, 33k on secret account, and on my deleted one it was over 500k

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I don't even have 5 on LenoreNevermore rn 😂 but;

- One Last Chance, (Life is Strange) 292

- Righteous Retribution (Life is Strange) 76

- It Happened Once in Konoha (Naruto) 22

- Princess of the Forest Owls (Final Fantasy VIII) 4

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes of course! I wanna let the readers know how much I appreciate their feedback

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? We don't do that here. Only angst with happy endings!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I guess One Last Chance since it's the only one I've finished 😂😂😂 And Princess of the Forest Owls is a canon compliant one shot

8. Do you get hate on fics? So far I haven't. But I got a really weird comment on a now orphaned fic once, that I don't know if it counts as hate.

9. Do you wrote smut? If so, what kind? Nope, we don't do that here.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? Oh, as a kid I used to do that all the damn time. Mostly between the final fantasy games and kingdom hearts, and Naruto. I had this fic planned, of a Life is Strange x Ouat crossover but... I don't think I'll be writing that anymore. I'll talk about this more on question 15.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes one of my orphaned fics.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? Ouch that's a hard one. I can only pick one? Idk... It's either NaruHina or Squinoa, I can't really pick one.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? It was called Endless Blue... My Life is Strange x OUAT crossover. Before the entire cast ruined ouat for me forever. I get sick whenever I see the actors faces now. It was supposed to be a post bay ending where Max traveled across the country and somehow found Storybrooke, and here she would learn more about time travel, then traveled into the past saving both Rachel and Chloe without fucking up the timeline. I loved this story and I've wanted to write it for the longest time, but the actors ruined the show for me to the point that now, whichever scene of the show I rewatch, it seems stupid to me. Plots I once loved now appear like the trashiest writing I've ever seen. I don't know if their shitty behavior just opened my eyes to what has always been shit writing, or if I just see it that way because the cast are pieces of shit.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Oh I love doing that.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Final Fantasy! Although most fics I wrote when my age had less than two digits are lost to old computers that stopped working and notebooks that are who knows where :(

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Right now is Righteous Retribution, but I'm really proud of Princess of the Forest Owls too.

I tag @weer02 , @celinou and everyone who wants to do it!