#the draft was a bit more shifty

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

[sonosvegliato]

asking you because i seriously consider u one of the best writers i have. read? known exists? anyways im asking how much do u plan when u write? ik uve talked abt ur process (v funny i love how ur mind works id love to poke around [affectionately]) but like. how much do u Plan in Advance? ive been sitting on some ideas for a while and im trying to think down to the SLIGHTEST things and im jus v curious as to? how much you think abt urs b4 sitting down2 write?

I am glad you think I am funny because I think I am funny too.

(Haha but for real I literally jumped into the air. Thank you!)

Here is where I get shifty because I am not an artist, I never have been, I have never quite gotten a handle on the patience required to color inside the lines. Likewise...I am not a plotter.

In general, an Idea Arrives, and then I sit down and write. A lot of the time it starts out as a scene I'd like to read, and I write that scene for 20 minutes or two hours, and after that I roll the dice in the air. If I poke around it long enough, I am morally required to construct everything that had to happen to get me to the Inciting Scene. My favorite thing to write is dialogue, and to convey how someone said something/why they said it, then I have to know the characters a little more. Sort of like eavesdropping on a conversation, and then getting to know a stranger from it.

I have never plotted anything start to finish. I normally have an end or something close to the end, a few enticing snippets, and that's my map. I don't finish original work too often, but it's not abandoned, it's just reworked, reworked, reworked. I have a friend that has original work that won a big well known editing/pitch contest and now has her work in the Query Trenches, and if she was the writing FBI she would lock me in jail for disorderly conduct and missing plotting documents. She says I should try to at least write a first draft through and let that be my guide, but I'm like. Nah. I start a story and I keep writing it and backtracking and rewriting and backtracking and rewriting, but theoretically at the end I have a story I'm satisfied with--- and not a draft I thought was bad a quarter of the way in but kept mudslogging through it. It's not losing progress, it's just rerouting yourself the longer way home so you avoid future traffic.

"Kill your darlings" is a very famous piece of writing advice, and when I was starting out I thought it meant, like, literally killing your characters for the Drama. Now I understand it as if there's a scene I really like or really want to include...sometimes she just has to get sidelined. And that's okay. We can harvest her organs for later. Frankenstein that bitch.

Fanfiction is different. It's fun and loose and I entertain myself. Now you will not swell the rout was a bit more thoughtfully done, that is, I spent more time on it than just being awake at midnight because I thought of something funny. It was not plotted. I didn't know the story was there. I missed martial arts, and then happened to listen in on a conversation about the poem "To an Athlete Dying Young" (A.E. Housman). I didn't come up with Now you will not swell the rout as a fully-fleshed story then, I just added onto a snippet (literally the first three little paragraphs) and stuff connected and then two weeks went by in a mad haze and I had 30,000 words or whatever it was. After that, I've spoken previously that in hold the low lintel up (and now WIP#3) had some "plot" which are events in the comics I want to include, but I think that is more worldbuilding/keeping somewhat adjacent to the source material. Everything original is just up in my head or stored in a random line I want to remember to use later.

(Literally my "plot" bookmark in my google doc is Plot hey here’s a good line and then I proceed to write one very good sentence and seven disembodied dialogue fragments that don't belong together at all).

In the spirit of honesty, I wrote the last line of Now you will not swell the rout and that was supposed to be it. But the fic had such a lovely reception, and I really felt like I grew while I wrote it, and like look there was one big glaring unanswered question just sitting there, right, so. Now I have a series. And 100% of the reason I'm not uploading chapter by chapter is because I know I am not a plotter, I know I'll change things, and I really want to take my time with this and use it as experience for my original work.

So that was way more than you probably meant to ask for, but. In sum: no, I don't plan in advance, I just take a stab and commit literary medical malpractice. Some writing books will have whole sections on plotting, and will have you detail your characters' birthdate, favorite song, food, music, what's the name of their first dog, etc. A lot of people have to have that solid basis ("organization" my writer friend calls it, pfft). I know, personally, that if I go down that rabbit hole I will not get anything done. I will get stuck.

So if you are honest with yourself and won't get stuck making the ideal macaroni map, send plotting advice for the rest of us homies out there ✌️

SVEG OUT

[autumnalwalker]

Untitled Solarpunk Witch draft, chapter 1.2

Spring, Week 2, Three of Swords

“So there I was, waiting for the cauldron to synthesize a barrier film sample when I get a knock at the door. I put on my hat and answer it and there’s this kid there.  Well, I say kid but he’s probably not much younger than I am. He’s all shifty and nervous, looking like he’s already having second thoughts about whatever he’s here for. And then he blurts out that he wants my advice on a personal problem. Because, you know, witchy wisdom.”

I set the mug down in front of the young man and take a seat on the other side of the kitchen table. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just an herbal tea. I found it in the pantry.”  I take a sip from my own mug to emphasize that it’s not poisoned or anything. 

He glances from his mug, to me, and back to his mug then takes a gulp. I wince internally. 

“Okay, so, you’re obviously nervous. Let’s slow down and back up a bit. For starters, what’s your name?”

“Brad.”

“Okay, Brad,” I say, leaning forward, “what’s this problem you came to me for help with?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat for a moment before answering without making eye contact. “It’s… it’s about my boyfriend.”

“Go on…”

“I’m… worried about him leaving.”

I sigh and massage my temples.  “Look, I don’t do love potions. That’s not even a thing, and even if it was I can’t even begin to get into how messed up that whole concept is.”

He nearly spits out his tea.  “What? No! Oh god no! Why would you even think…? Just no.”  He takes a breath and tries again, talking a little faster with each word. “My boyfriend, Pedro, right? So he’s been talking about how he feels stifled here, ‘The world’s too big to spend my life in a place this small’ and things like that.  And I don’t really get it because I like it here and it’s my home and all my friends and family are here and we don’t know anyone anywhere else.  And he said that not knowing anyone anywhere else is the point but when I asked if that meant the people here aren’t good enough for him, that I’m not good enough for him, he said that’s not what he meant but then he still couldn’t explain it and it turned into a fight and that was back when the couple that used to live here left and we made up since then or I thought we did and then you showed up and then that frog lady showed up last week and he’s been talking to her and this all came up again and he said that the next time the airship co-op comes through he’s going to go with them and sign on with them and leave and when I tried to talk him out of it promised that he’d be back one day and then he invited me to come with him and I don’t know what to do about either of those things because I don’t want to leave but I don’t want to be away from him either and I know he said he’d come back if I stay but what if he meets someone else or is a different person when he gets back and I’ve been losing sleep over it but then I remembered that witches are supposed to give wisdom and guidance or fortune telling or whatever when you go to them so now I’m here.”

I give him a moment as he’s sitting there panting.

“Okay, so, first off, I won’t be having any of that ‘frog lady’ business.  If you keep that up I’m tossing you out.  She has a name.  It’s Ursula.  Use it.” I jab my wand at him for emphasis.

He shrinks back in his chair and squeaks out a “Sorry.”

I sigh and lean back.  “Normally I’d say that I’m not the one to apologize to, but she wasn’t here to hear it and that’s probably for the best.  Now, second off, you have a very impressive lung capacity and ability to speak rapidly.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.  And, third off, just to make sure I caught all that, your boyfriend, Pedro, wants to experience more of the world outside of Zello.  You don’t understand the desire and feel hurt by it, maybe even inadequate.  Now he’s actually made plans and stated an intent to leave and - after unsuccessfully trying to talk him out of it - you’re feeling torn between going with him and staying here.  Is that all right?”

“That’s it.”

“And you want my advice on what to do.”

“Yes.”

“Because I’m a witch.”

“Yes.”

“And witches know this kind of stuff.”

“Yes?”

“Bast(et)!  Help!  I am so not qualified for this!”

You realize you’re asking an AI in the body of a mechanical cat for human romantic advice?

“Oh, do not give me that.  You know I don’t do romance.  And I know you had a thing with Hermes for a while.  It was awkward for both of your witches.”

Sigh.  It’s not exactly the same thing, but I see your point.  If it helps, don’t think of it as romantic advice specifically.  Someone’s come to you asking for help so stick to our core tenets and break it down like you would anything else.  Act with compassion and don’t look to make the decision for him.  We’re not trying to find the right answer because there rarely is one for something like this. Help guide him to where he can decide for himself.

“Did you just say ‘sigh’ at me?”

That’s not even remotely - 

“Are you okay there?”

- the point.

I blink a few times and realize that from Brad’s perspective I’ve been silently staring through him and off into space for close to a solid minute.

“Sorry about that,” I say.  “I was just consulting with my familiar.”  I nod to where Bast(et) is watching from her perch on the countertop.  “You could say she’s the real wise one here.”

She lets out a meow of approval.  Nice to hear you admit it.

Brad gives us a look that makes me suspect he’s questioning his decision to come here but says nothing.

I take a breath to center myself and continue.  “Okay, so, I’m going to level with you.  I’m willing to help and give what advice I can, but before I get into it you should know that romance isn’t really what you’d call my thing.”

“But I thought witches were supposed to be all about love and stuff?”

Well, better than him thinking we’re all about hexing people with misfortune and shooting lightning bolts. 

“There are…” I pause briefly to get the wording coherent in my head, “a lot of different kinds of love.  Romance, sure, but there’s also the love between parent and child or between siblings.  The platonic love between close friends and comrades.  The love of a community.  Love for a place.  Doing a thing that you love.  Love for nature.  Love of life itself.  You see where I’m going with this?”

“I… think so?”

Good, because I don’t yet.  “Well, it’s like you said, love, or perhaps more generally compassion, is a core part of our teaching, but we recognize that it’s something broader and more intertwined with all aspects of life than solely romance.  And sure, there are witches out there that probably could give you some pretty solid relationship advice, but I’m not one of them.”

“Oh…”

“Hey.” I smile and try to look encouraging.  “I did say I was going to try to help, didn’t I?  Like I said, compassion.  I’d be a poor witch if I turned away someone coming to me for help without giving it my best shot.

“So, here’s how I see it.  Right now you see yourself as stuck between leaving the home you love and being left by Pedro, yes?”

“That’s what I said earlier.”

“So, yeah, stuck between two distressing options, bad news either way.  Easy to get frozen up and go in circles of self-doubt there.  But what if - and bear with me because I’m going to start saying a bunch of stuff that might sound trite, but I’m serious - what if we rephrase it from a different perspective?”

“Phrasing it differently doesn’t change anything.”

“It might not change the situation, but it might change how we see it and approach it.  So, the idea of leaving home behind to go with him.  Another way to look at it could be as an opportunity to see more of the world, get some new experiences, and maybe even grow a bit yourself.  Just because you leave for a while doesn’t mean you have to leave forever.  And who knows, you might even learn something out there that could be useful to bring back to your life here.”

“And if it doesn’t work out and I don’t like being away from home?”

“No way to know for sure unless you try.  Worst case scenario you come to appreciate Zello all that much more.”  I pause to take a sip of my tea to let that settle in before continuing.  “As for the other option - staying home until Pedro comes back for you one day - I’m going to repeat some advice that was once given to a good friend of mine.  ‘If you love something, let it go free.  If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever.  If it doesn’t, it was never yours to begin with.’  Again, it’s a bit trite, I know, but the saying has a point.”

Wait, you were listening to all that back then?

“Of course.  It might have been awkward for me, but I could tell you were hurting at the end of it and I wanted to make sure you were okay.  And you might have been projecting more to me than you intended at the time.”

MG preserve me.

“So… ” the sound of Brad’s voice snaps me back to attention.  It seems he took my silent aside with Bast(et) as a cue to speak up.  “What you’re saying is to treat staying in Zello when he leaves as a test?  If he comes back to me we were meant to be together, and if he finds someone else we weren’t?”

“Or if you find someone else here while he’s gone, but yeah, that’s the gist of it.  Although I’m not sure thinking of it as a ‘test’ per say is the healthiest way to look at it.  From what I hear, couples trying to ‘test’ one another rarely ends well for anyone.  But if this is something capable of tearing the two of you apart - and it would be both of you mutually contributing to that, don’t heap all the blame on him or yourself - then that’s probably a sign that the two of you weren’t as compatible to begin with as you might have thought.”

“I see…”  He breaks eye contact with me once again, staring into his tea.  “But I’m still back where I started, with two choices to decide between.  What should I do?”

I lean forward, elbows on the table, my eyes just visible under the brim of my hat.  I pray it’s the proper mix of conspiratorial intimacy and dramatic flare.  “That’s the secret Brad.  I can’t tell you what to do.  No one can.  I can help guide you to make the path more clear and less frightening, and give you some tools and encouragement to make the decision easier, but at the end of the day, it’s your life and no one can make the choice but you.  And that’s a wonderful thing.  Focus on the good that can come from your options, take your partner’s wishes in good faith, believe in yourself, and go with what feels most right and true for you.”

Brad looks up.  “That’s it?”

I perk one side of my mouth up in a half smile.  “That’s it.”

I lean back.  A silence hangs for a long moment.  Finally Brad breaks it before it can grow from contemplative to uncomfortable.  “Thank you.  I’m going to need to think on all that for a while, but I feel better now.  A little, anyway.”

As he stands up I get up as well to see him out the door.  “Oh, one more thing,” I add as I place my handle on the doorknob, “if you really are feeling better about this now, it could be worth it to talk to Pedro again about it with a clear head and keeping in mind what we talked about.  Perspectives and such.  You might find a way together that I couldn’t.”

As I open the door he tells me that he’ll keep that in mind and heads out.

I watch him go for just long enough to be polite about not slamming the door shut behind him, then close the door and slump against it as I slide to the floor, letting out a long sigh of pent up stress.

In one of her more catlike moments, Bast(et) hops down from the counter and rubs against me.  She knows it calms me down.

You did good.

“Do you really think?  I was pretty much talking out of my ass the whole time.”

Then it’s a good thing the order whipped your butt into such fine shape.

“Please rephrase that literally any other way.”

Be thankful that you were given so much to be able to pull out of there.

A chortle escapes my lips.  “Okay, now I know you’re messing with me.”

And it’s working.  But really, I think you did well.

“Thanks, but I’m still not sure.  At the end there, it felt less like I’d actually helped and more like he was just being polite so he could leave.”

That’s not how I read it.  But even if he was, talking to you at least seemed to get him less nervous about the situation.  That alone should help him.

“But what if my advice was bad?”

Then, in the worst case scenario, things go badly for the two of them, you learn from your mistake, and the two of them can blame the souring relationship on you instead of letting it fester in themselves.

“Well, that sure sounds nice.”

Welcome to martyrdom.

“Okay, that’s it,” I say as I stand back up. “I need to think about anything else.  Time to check on the cauldron.”

Another two hours and thirty seven minutes remain on the biosynthesis.

“Fine then.  Taking a walk it is.  I’ll see how Luanna’s doing with hers.  Maybe the larger size on that printer they’ve got here will outweigh it being an older model.  You coming?”

Wherever you go, there I am.

*******

As it turns out, the old bio-capable printer in Zello’s maker space had about as much time to go on its sample film as my cauldron did.  Still, talking shop with Luanna and going over plans for how to apply the film for containment makes for a better way to pass the time than sitting around dwelling on earlier while staring at a progress bar.  Eventually the machine chimes its completion and we inspect the pale gray-green sheet that it’s produced.  Thin, flexible, a little bit sticky, and derived from the tissues of the plants they use for waste treatment filtration around here.  The hope is that if we wrap it around the drone as we pull it out it will block and absorb any further gas leaks.  

It needs further testing of course and we take it back to the house to compare it with the sample from my cauldron.  While we ran off the same base formula, different synthesizer models always seem to give slightly different results.  We spend the rest of the afternoon and into the night on testing and simulation, but between the two samples, we manage to come up with some adjustments to the formula that we think should work.

A few more days of this and we should be ready for the extraction.

*******

So, are you nervous? Bast(et) asks me on our way back from the latest meeting.  We have a date set now for getting the drone out of the marsh.  And a good thing too, seeing as we’re already pushing our luck waiting this long without another storm to agitate it.

“Why would I be?”

It’s the culmination of your first official assignment as a full-fledged witch.  An assignment you still haven’t told the order about.  It’s natural to be nervous.  Not to mention the specific nature of the assignment itself.

“First off, the order doesn’t need to know until it’s handled and I don’t need them sending out someone ‘more experienced’ to take charge.”

I realize I’m getting odd looks from the neighbors again and switch to subvocalization. “And second, nah, I’m good.  Messing with a robot designed to kill me and handling toxic chemicals?  That’s my wheelhouse.  I’ll take that over dispensing life advice any day.”

[piracytheorist]

Manny Calavera: Suave and Debonair

Having just finished watching a video essay on the “Nice Guy” trope in fiction, my mind, interestingly enough, jumped to Manny Calavera, whom the promotional work for described as “Suave and Debonair and Dead”. 

Now I say “interestingly”, because Manny isn’t a ”Nice Guy”, but he doesn’t fit the trope of genuine, good-hearted and supportive boyfriend that the video concludes on either. Sure he is that, genuinely, with his love interest, but it’s not his defining trait. He’s Suave and Debonair.

It’s not a persona he builds until he finds love and his defences drop and the genuinely good-hearted hopeless romantic bursts out - as much as I love that trope myself, heh. He truly is confident and elegant and flirty, and he is also supportive and respectful. And above all, he’s not creepy.

There’s a plethora of characters, most commonly male, playing on the “suave” trope but they just end up looking creepy, selfish, self-centered and arrogant. There’s a whole lot that can be said about what that says about their male writers, but let’s focus back on Manny, and what possible romantic interactions there are for him in the game. And frankly, there are a lot.

The whole style of the game is one that accomondates openly flirtatious characters, enough for the protagonist to be one. The setting, the feeling, the interactions, the other characters, but also the limits. Also bouncing off a video I made where I tried to “pick up” every single character, with various results and meanings of the term... Manny has strict limits he adheres to, not because the “rules” say so, but because he feels it.

First lady you can pick up, through dialogue, is Eva. She brushes you off, but on her own, through other dialogue options, can say she loves Manny, to which he replies, “You’re all I really need, Belleza”. Now considering where the dynamic goes and where Manny moves on to, you can safely assume they’re on a mutual state, where they respect each other but kinda sorta are not a couple. Like, don’t take my word fully on this, I’m not a relationship expert, but you can definitely see they’re on the same page. 

And before we go on to Meche, a significant detail; work issues. If you try to pick up Meche while they’re still in his office, Manny says “I don’t like to get involved with the customers that way”. His own words: “I don’t like”. Not a “shouldn’t”, “better not”, or whatever. Outright, clear, “I don’t like using flirt in a professional space.” Second, after he’s fired, if you try to pick up Eva, he says, “Well, I guess I could, now that we’re not working together anymore.” But he doesn’t actually sound like he was waiting for them to not be co-workers to hit on her. It’s more like a flirty joke between, again, two people who are on the same page. Third, Lupe. Direct reaction: “Not my employees.“ And if I may add, with a bit of “Are you serious?” tone on it.

Three separate cases, where he’s in three separate places - equal to equal, salesman to customer, employer to employee - and all have clear limits as to how far his flirting will go, or if it will even begin in the first place. So there’s a definite feeling of respect and knowing where your limits lay.

Now beyond that, the most we see of his suave nature is in his interactions during Year 2, most notably with Carla. The beginning dialogue between the two is one where Carla, on her own, suggests Manny stay until her shift’s over.

And considering they’ve already known each other for some time, the implication is loud and clear.

Manny leans on her desk towards her, and she leans forward on her chair towards him. The Puzzle Document, aka the first official “draft” of the story, has Manny suggest Carla (who is described as aloof) take a break by offering some booze. The end product instead has Carla being suggestive from her first interaction we see her having with Manny, but still following the rules - until Manny finds a loophole, in which case Carla is all too happy to strip-search him.

Which kind of blows up in his face, considering he, uhm, used the circumstances to get that damn metal detector. Still, the next possible interaction is to ask Carla if she’s still mad at him, which she confirms, and he respectfully backs off. He acts suave with the “Forgiven me yet?” but he doesn’t demand she does or have a fit over her being angry.

Next, there’s Lola. Manny advises her to stay away from Maximino, the “gambling racketeer”, and Lola says “Like you?”. Manny says “Oh, that hurts, baby.” Again, he neither takes full offense nor does he play it fully as a joke. Still, he respects her enough to not use what happens to her as an excuse to be violent. When he punches Nick, he says Nick deserved it anyway - and I like that Lola isn’t fridged only for Manny to have a moment of being a badass *cough*toxic masculinity*cough*. And even two years later, if you visit the lighthouse, you find that Manny still thinks of her and misses her.

Finally, Meche. With Celso and Bruno, Manny immediately jumps from “Mr. Flores” and “Mr. Martinez” to first-name basis. Meche is his first client that he keeps to last-name basis until she herself asks to be called with her nickname, even. But the real juice comes in Year 3, when, feeling confused and betrayed, he implies Meche is in a relationship with Domino. And frankly... we as an audience at that point can see where the dynamic between Manny and Meche is going to, so Manny’s behaviour can sound very selfish, but what Manny knows is that he tried to jump aboard the Lambada to warn Meche about Domino or help her escape him and instead got kicked out by her. He is crass but he has the right to feel confused. 

However, Manny openly apologizes to her for how he acted, without becoming a welcoming mat either. He gives her his trust (and his gun), he saves her from Domino’s vault and the island, he opens up about his feelings, but he stands his ground and stays true to his character. Because his slip-ups weren’t because of strikes to his confidence or his masculinity, but on his own ego itself - and it’s on that part that he grew.

Being suave is not a defense mechanism for Manny and it doesn’t express itself in an unhealthy, creepy way, so it’s not a character trait he has any need to grow out of or learn better from. He’s truly, positively debonair in a way many male characters wish they were, and overall I feel that’s worth mentioning.

[whereiselsewhere]

Grand Theft Amor; M. Jeevas

In which you cash in a favour with Mello, and leave with his roommate’s number.

Category: Fluff, Crack, First Meeting, Fem Reader

Author’s Notes: So uh, im really sorry I lost the motivation to keep writing 😭 However I DID start a one shot. So, this is about 1/3 to 1/2 of what I had planned out. I hope you like it nevertheless. Maybe if you guys actually wanted it I can finish it sometime?? This has been sat in my drafts a while, but perhaps someone out there might still like what I did have. :)

Word Count: Not much-

The air is crisp and cool tonight. It’s late October, and despite how short of a walk this was, you’re slightly regretting not bringing any form of jacket. Oh well. This is an in and out job anyway. You half shuffle on one spot, waiting to be buzzed into the apartment block. It’s a little shifty down here, considering it’s a more tucked away road with no one seeming to be around. You’re contemplating pressing the button again, second guessing if you even had the right number, when the door unlocks, as if in perfect timing.

When your friend had their motorcycle break down, they’d come to you urgently for help. Instead of comforting them, like anyone else would have done, you’d had the idea to call on an old friend from a few years ago to see if he could do anything about it. He wasn’t a professional, as far as you knew, but he had a similar bike when you knew him and so that was the best you could do. You weren’t expecting much of a result or response at all, but alas, Mello actually came through. And so, here you are now, making your way up the stairs to his new apartment.

Though, the face that answers the door when you get up there is not one that you recognise. He’s a brunette in a striped shirt, with a thick pair of goggles around the top of his head. He’s definitely not a bad looking guy. Now you came to think of it, he somewhat resembles Mello’s description of a childhood friend he’d mentioned a few times before. His one hand is leaning near the top of the door, holding it open, while the other is stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. His eyebrows are raised and he’s almost smirking if you look closely enough.

“Is Mello here?” You ask, putting your own hands in your pockets, subconsciously mirroring his body language. A common sign of attraction, just not one either of you picked up on.

“Yeah, he’s here. Just give me one second.” He lets the door go and it slams fairly loudly due to the weight, and it’s followed by muffled shouting. Aside from that, you’re left in your own awkward silence. You take a short look around, then make the decision to stop and subtly listen in, to see if you can hear anything about yourself.

“Mell! There’s a cute girl here to see you!”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, H/C haired girl! You didn’t tell me you had a date?”

“I don’t-“ You can’t make out the rest, but Mello’s roommate is snickering to himself as he opens the door a couple minutes later.

“Cute girl, huh?” You inquire, putting on an unfazed front to cover for the fact that simply one comment alone was enough to fluster you.

“Yeah.” He looks you up and down, completely and obviously checking you out.

“Do you say that to a lot of girls or is it just me?” You’re pretty sure it’s the first option, since he doesn’t even know you or why you’re here.

He dodges your question with one of his own,“Awfully inquisitive aren’t we?”

“It’s not exactly a complicated question, dude.” Yeah, calling him dude will swat away any interest in you. Nice going, Y/N.

He suddenly hunches over as he would have if you’d have punched him in the stomach, clutching at his side and hissing in fake pain. “It’s alright, I can take a bit of venom.”

“Oh please, it’s hardly venom. I’m just too lazy to return to favour for someone who will rinse and repeat with the next girl who comes along, ya feel?” You mentally hit yourself again. How badly are you ruining your own chances right now? It’s kinda laughable, and not in a quirky cute sense.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to be too put off. “Oh, so you think I’m cute too?”

“I’ll plead the fifth on that one. Is he here or what?”

“Yeah, sure. But if you ever get bored of him, you’re always welcome in my company. It wouldn’t be with anyone else if you’d let me get to know you, I can tell you that much.” He steps aside and you find your way into the living room. You’re unsure whether you should sit down, so you end up just hovering there as the conversation continues.

“You don’t even know my name, but you never know, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Mello approaches from the hall as you stand to one side

“Sorry about him, Matt’s a total dick.” He narrows his eyes with suspicion, before rolling them and letting on a half smile.

“Pshh, it’s fine. I figured as much.” You smirk at Matt, somewhat teasingly. Diverting your attention back to Mello, you start slowly digging through your pockets for the money, “How much was it for the bike parts altogether?”

“Let’s call it 20,000 yen?” Mello responds promptly. “I wouldn’t usually just give This stuff out but I do owe you a favour.”

“Bet.” You nod, handing him the cash. “It’s very much appreciated.”

Mello disappears again, heading back out into the hall and leaving you with Matt. For a moment or two, it’s deadly silent, and just as you go to break it, he beats you to it.

“A girl who fixes cars, huh?”

You turn around on one heel to face him, “You wish. I’m not that cool. Just running an errand for a friend, I’m ‘fraid.” You shrug.

“Hm, that’s a shame. We almost had something in common.”

You take a glimpse at the TV, noticing the paused game menu looked familiar. “We might do. GTA, huh?”

“Yup. You any good or what?”

You respond with, “I’m alright”, though the cocky grin you’re wearing says a little more than that. “Nothing major, not like I’ve been playing since I was a kid or anything.”

“See, I knew I’d like you.”

Again, Mello emerges, carrying a rather large cardboard box in his arms. “I’d hang around and talk, but I’ve gotta rush out-“ He starts, but you cut him off, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it. I should probably leave too soon anyway.”

Mello breathes a sigh of relief that he hasn’t offended you and places the box on the nearby counter. He’s not always so considerate, but he subconsciously makes the exception for an old friend. It takes a weight off of your own shoulders too, to see that you’re welcome. You’d been hesitant to contact him at first, maybe typing out and deleting your message a few times. It’s good to see that it went well.

He grabs his coat and puts on a pair of boots he’d left by the door earlier, “See you soon maybe, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

You go to retrieve the box, and Matt’s voice returns again. “Hm, nice name.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Plus, now I know your name, maybe you’ll play for 10 with me.” He adds, trying to not seem so desperate, ultimately failing, however. He doesn’t exactly give you time to answer, after all, “Get comfy. Mi casa es su casa!”

“Do you know a lot of Spanish, by any chance?”

“Ha, nope.” He responds matter-of-factly. Well, it is a popular catchphrase, you suppose. So much for that conversation starter. Oh well, things don’t feel as stiff and forced by this point anyway.

He tosses the controller to you without warning as you take off your shoes and sit down on the sofa, with catching it swiftly in one hand. “Hey, I know where you’re at. Let me see if I can get this mission in record time.” You laugh, and you think Matt might be doubting you a little still, though he doesn’t drop any obvious signs of it. He’s only dropping more signs that he’s into you.

[humdrummoloch]

Whenever we give writing advice about bad writing habits or make writing rules about what not to do, we should always illustrate when and where people should ignore the rule, because not doing something is only part of it.

Take for example the passive voice. Most of us have been told that the passive voice is a 'weak' way to word a sentence so we should omit it from our work. For the most part, they're right: a typical sentence in a piece of fiction tends to be stronger and more emotional when the active voice is used.

Passive: 'I am being chased by someone.'

Active: 'Someone is chasing me.'

The active sentence sounds more exciting, right? Well, sometimes. Sometimes the passive sentence is better for emphasising the chasing rather than the someone. And check out this next sentence, where the passive voice is used to add a bit more mystery:

'I am being chased.'

Using the word 'someone' implied that I know it's one measly human being, which can take a lot of mystery and tension out of the sentence. But if I'm being chased by something I can't (or won't) describe, that can make it more interesting and not show my hand too early in the scene.

The passive voice has a similar use in nonfiction or academic writing. Even if we know who did it, the passive voice can add clarity and emphasis on topics by not focusing on irrelevant things like who did what. (For example: how many times have I used the passive voice in this post? Would it be as clear if I'd reworded everything to have active subjects? The active voice can make the tone of a post more friendly, or it could make the tone less mature or even a little aggressive!)

And of course, the same techniques can be used in fiction too. Maybe a specific word needs emphasis. Maybe a character's being shifty by trying to downplay their role, or maybe somebody who is making an announcement is being gracious enough to lift the blame off the culprit as a way of subtly showing forgiveness or mercy to them. Maybe the passive voice is considered to be the polite or 'correct' way to word things by a character due to their upbringing or personal values.

All of this is useful to a writer!

The answer is neither to stop doing something altogether because the rule says so, nor is it to just keep doing it because rules don't matter. It's about being aware of what you're choosing. Both 'good writing' and personal writing styles are about knowing what you're putting on paper (though you don't have to worry about lots of these things on the first draft).

Generally, you'd want to ditch adverbs, use said, omit the passive voice, and so on. But writing 'rules' are not rules, they're just indicators so you can tell which things should only be done deliberately. Adverbs are effective when they're picked precisely in order to help the scene, not so much when they're thrown in there for flavouring. Words other than 'said' are pretty effective when used to give clarity to a person's tone or intent or emotion, but isn't so useful to add drama. And the passive voice helps us do all the things I mentioned above, but it can also make actions feel limp or vague.

These 'rules' shouldn't be implying that your writing is bad if you do these, or saying they should never be used if you want to write more effectively. In fact, breaking these rules is often pretty important in effective writing! The 'rules' should just point out that if you're going to do a thing, you should have some idea of why you're using it and how it affects the sentence or scene.

In summary: deliberate choice > avoiding certain techniques or sprinkling words in wherever.

[littlemissnoname13]

Fortunate Misfortune (D.M x Reader)| Chapter 2: Open 24/7

Summary: where Draco comes with with a plan to help you out with Blaise

A/n: This multi-chapter has been in my Drafts since before I started posting on here and I’ve used so many scenes from it and turned them into one shots in the past. The series is almost complete and ill just be dumping it on my blog over the next few days. Please do not feel pressured to read it. 😅🥲

Reblogs and Feedbacks are always welcomed. :)

Warnings: none except coarse language and food (No voldy AU) *Note: Hogwarts is a bit more lenient with its curfews in this series*

Words:1800ish

| Chapter 1 | Masterlist | Chapter 3

The attempt to steal food from the kitchens was a failure and the two of you now stood outside a dodgy looking inn at Hogsmeade.

Four Broom sticks? 

They could have gone with so many different and more creative routes for the name like…“the earthy ..ferret” or…“the…Aggressive..hm..Owl”. But they chose four broomsticks of all names.

“Looks like a lawsuit is on the horizon.” Draco coughed, and tightened his green and silver scarf around his neck.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” You snapped, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him in through the door. 

“Table for two please.” You said sweetly and Draco was awed by your ability to change demeanors on demand like that. 

“I’d very much prefer it if you used that voice with me.” Draco muttered as the two of you sat down. 

You didn’t respond to him. You only glared at him with your eyes squinted before proceeding to order something to eat.

“The usual please.” You said in that strangely sweet voice of yours again, making him draw up some conclusions about you as he ordered black coffee for himself.

From how comfortable you looked and the way you completely disregarded the menu indicated that you were a regular patron at this shifty place. 

You instantly started to devour what looked like a sandwich of some sorts as he continued to watch you with each sip of his bitter coffee. 

“First meal of the day huh?” He muttered and you nodded with your mouth full. “Why did you skip dinner then?”

“What is it with you and all this interrogation?” You mumbled with your mouth full, while your left hand slightly pushed the plate towards him. “Here, try some.” 

“No. Thank you.” Draco said at once, scrunching his nose . “I don’t even know what’s in it but I can already tell it’s a strange combination.. looks like strawberry jam and…cheese?!” 

“Well, don’t say I didn’t offer any.” You shrugged. “Astoria likes this a lot.” 

His grey eyes lit up with curiosity and his cheeks turned bright pink at the sound of her name. 

“Astoria likes this?” 

“Last time I checked.” 

Draco hesitantly took half of the diagonal cut toastie and took a careful, tentative bite—expression as blank as an unused piece of parchment. 

Then slowly, even though he tried very hard to fight it, a small satisfied smile formed at his lips when he swallowed. 

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it, Malfoy?”

He just huffed in response and continued eating like he didn’t just call it strange a few minutes ago. 

“So, Astoria..how come you know so much about her?…what else do you know about her?” Draco mumbled after taking a final bite. 

“We have bumped into each other here and there several times over the years and hey, It doesn’t work that way.” You smirked and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. 

“Fine, how does it work then?”

“What do I get in return?”

“Some intel on Zabini. How about that?” 

As one cup of coffee became another, Draco exchanged his knowledge about Blaise with your knowledge about Astoria. 

To his surprise, Four broomsticks stayed open all night long, and you knew quite a lot about Astoria. 

~~~

While heading back to your respective dorms to freshen up for Care of magical creatures, Draco suddenly grabbed you by the hand and pulled you towards him. 

“Malfoy.What are you—”

When he was close enough, he leaned down and whispered into your ears. 

“Flowers.” 

“Huh?”

“Little known fact about Zabini, he likes flowers. He won’t ever admit it to anyone but he used to stop and sniff roses in my mother’s garden.” He gently placed his long and limber fingers on either side of your hips and your breath involuntarily caught up inside your throat. 

The place on your body where he’d placed his hands felt awfully aware of his touch even though there were layers of clothing in between. 

What was even weird was how you felt the sensation slowly migrate upwards to the left side of your chest where your heart was rapidly accelerating its beat. 

What was this boy doing to you?

Slowly tightening his grip, Draco whirled you around so that your back was now pressed on his chest.

His chin rested on your shoulders as his breath tickled your neck. Draco slowly removed his left hand from your hips to point at a neon sign.

“Friends, family & foes. War, weddings, funerals, christenings. Flowers for all occasions. Open 24/7.” 

~~~

Hagrid had the class split up into groups of three that day and Draco instantly walked towards you dragging Vincent Crabbe with him. You could tell that Crabbe was terrified about partnering up with you. 

“Malfoy...she’s the harbinger of bad luck..I’ve heard things about her.” Crabbe reminded him.

Draco completely disregarded Crabbe’s babbling. To top that all off, he even had a wonky little smile etched on his lips and it made your heart feel all kinds of strange. 

Just twenty four hours ago, this boy was reluctant about even being near you and now he was offering to be your partner like you were his only choice.

“Nervous?” Draco asked when he finally made it to you, referring to the plan the two of you had made before parting ways earlier in that morning. 

“Obviously.” You muttered, as you looked left and right—paranoid about someone eavesdropping. “I still think giving him flowers is a rather stupid idea.”  

“Fine. Have fun watching when someone else beats you to it.”

“Okay. Okay.” You sighed. 

“Am I correct in assuming that you brought the flowers with you?”

You patted your pocket in response indicating that you had shrunk the flowers to fit into your pocket and he looked impressed that you’d even thought about shrinking it. 

“Good Girl.” Draco grinned in approval.

Neither of you discussed his plan further and tried to get through the class as quickly as possible.

It seemed like Draco was equally stressed about the success of this plan but you knew that was simply because you’d promised to give him back the letter if things worked out. 

When class was finally over, you watched Blaise walk away with Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle and Draco quickly turned to look at you.

Once again, he took a step towards you like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

His eyes looked more baby blue than grey under the sun you couldn’t help but notice the crease in between his eyebrows as he smoothed out your stray hairs.

For a minute there, you forgot about the flowers in your pocket. That is, until he gave you a small push towards Blaise’s direction.

“Go on then.. you don’t have all day”

You turned your head back to give him a sour glare before following Blaise back into the castle. 

You felt like a creepy stalker as you watched his robe swish gently with the wind as he continued to walk ahead, completely oblivious of you.

Just when you were about to quicken your pace to catch up to him, Blaise met up with another Slytherin girl by the name of Tracey Davis. 

She stretched on her tiptoes and gave him a huge hug and you wanted to reach for your wand and Avada yourself on the spot. 

Of course he was already seeing someone. 

Draco was probably aware of this and he failed to inform you. 

Maybe he was messing around with you all this time while you were putting your blind faith onto him. 

You turned on your heel and walked back to find Draco Lucius Malfoy and give him a piece of your damn mind. 

~~

Draco lazily walked back into the castle with Crabbe but in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about you.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted the plan to succeed for reasons beyond getting back his letter. 

He also didn’t want to admit it but he liked it when you smiled.

The blokes at Hogwarts were lucky you didn’t smile too often, because if you did, you’d have them hovering around you in swarms like bees, minus the rumours about you.

Just as he found himself thinking about your smile and all the ways to describe it, he noticed that you were stomping towards him, looking anything but smiley. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You shouted. 

“Tell you what?” Draco asked, suddenly confused. 

“About Tracey Davis!” You threw your arms up in frustration while Crabbe looked at the two of you utterly confused before quickly excusing himself.

“Tracey?” Draco echoed her name back to you.

“Yes! Tracey.” You sighed. “She was all up in Blaise’s business. Hugging him like he was her long lost soulmate.”

“Tracey is going out with Marcus Flint you dimwit!” 

“Blaise was the one that set the two up about a week ago.” He sighed as he continued. “Clearly, she’s just a bit too...thankful.” 

“Oh.. ” Your voice trailed off,  suddenly embarrassed at the overreaction. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Did you give him the flowers at least?” 

You shook your head and he rubbed his face in frustration.

The two of you then walked back into the castle, deciding to ditch the rest of the classes. The morning had been a bit too tumultuous and the two of you were far too sleep deprived to sit through more classes. 

He was surprised at himself and at you, when you invited him to your dorm and he nonchalantly accepted. 

You had an old kettle and instant coffee in your mess of a room, and your armchair didn’t seem like too bad of a place to rest.

He watched you frustratedly throw your robe away, kick your shoes off and sink into your bed, all the while muttering all sorts of complaints about classes and homework.

He quietly drank the coffee he’d made and he couldn’t help but smile to himself when he noticed that sleep had slowly started to make your eyelids droopy. 

After you fell asleep, he reached for your robe laying unceremoniously on the floor and pulled out the flowers you’d shrunk. 

He’d watched his mother put flowers on vases and perform a misting charm to keep them fresh a thousand times and it only seemed appropriate to do the same to your flowers.

He looked around and found an empty paint jar before using aguamenti to fill it to the brim with water. 

As he restored the bouquet to its normal size, he felt a strange scratchy sensation on the tip of his nose. The sensation traveled to his eyes and he was suddenly in tears. 

Wait a minute….

Out of all the different flowers you could have picked in the shop, you’d somehow picked allergenic and toxic flowers that made the receiver tear up, cough and sneeze uncontrollably. 

And he thought Hufflepuffs knew their plants! 

He shook his head and quickly vanished the flowers before walking towards the bed where you were fast asleep. 

He noticed that you’d left the letter he wrote to Astoria on the bed side table and now that you were asleep, he could easily take it and run off. 

Come tomorrow he wouldn’t even have to talk to you because You’d have no leverage against him. 

But there was a voice inside of him, refusing to take the letter and run off.

He’d heard that pesky voice a million times before. It was the voice of his moral compass and up until that point, he was used to ignoring it repeatedly. 

After a minute long pause to contemplate, Draco decided to pretend like he’d never seen the letter. He went so far as to putting it under a spare pillow.  

“I hope I don’t regret this, Catastrophe.” He whispered, looking at you with a smile before pulling the covers up to your shoulders. 

~~

🏷 Series Tag list: @writeandtranslate @louweasleymalfoy @silentkiller2374

~~

End of chapter notes:

I generated the inn names Draco was thinking about using this. It was fun.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

that kind of morning, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re really bad at waking up. Big sleepyhead with foggy memory kind of bad. Your brain is on autopilot. Hm, kind of hard to pilot when everything seems out of place. And you’re mildly hungover. Ow. You just ran into a muscular chest. Who could that be?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; morning after a wild night; graphic descriptions of sexual acts and a tiny bit of smut–while on the phone (fem reader, nipple play, dry humping, hint of a handjob); non-idol!BTS; basically sleepy and slightly hungover reader trying to piece together life lmao

–

Most people make their worst decisions at night.

Not you. You make your worst decisions in the morning. 

Maybe it's because you don't drink coffee.

"Ow!"

Was your bed always that high? Huh. You squinted in the sunlight filtering through the window, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Instead, you occupied yourself with sniffing the t-shirt you were wearing. It smelled clean, like fabric softener. Also, it was white. Generally, you didn't buy white shirts since they dirtied easily. A miracle that this one wasn't stained. 

You stumbled through the bedroom door – was it always that far? – and smacked your nose into a wall. 

"Ow!"

"Ah!"

A moving wall. Wait, not a wall. A shirtless guy. Oh. It had been that kind of night. 

You rubbed your nose. "Erm, hello. You're still here, huh?" you mumbled. 

The guy blinked at you. "What do you mean? This is my apartment."

Oh. That's why everything seemed unfamiliar. Now that you looked at him, he was pretty attractive. Long dark hair, large brown eyes, dark brows, shapely pink lips with a mole underneath his lower lip. He had two more on his nose and cheek. Lightly tanned skin and a cute confused face. Huh. Nice muscles too. Good for him. 

"Alright, I'll be on my way then, uh..." you trailed off awkwardly, pushing past him. The events of last night were hazy and your head hurt a little, although not so bad that you couldn't function. You were just poorly functioning because you weren't a morning person. 

"Do you want coffee or something?" the guy asked, following you. He sounded a little worried. 

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," you muttered, holding onto the wall as you walked down the unfamiliar narrow hallway. "Stains your teeth."

Speaking of teeth, your breath was probably awful. Hopefully that poor guy didn't breathe near you. Come to think of it, this wasn't what you were wearing last night. It was probably his shirt, considering the large size. Where were your clothes? Oh, look, a bathroom. 

"I could order us some breakfast," the guy continued as you stuck your head into the bathroom and saw the sink. There was a black toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, definitely not yours. A black cup for rinsing one's mouth, with a winking emoji printed on it. A black shirt bunched up and half-falling off the sink. Deodorant. Cologne. You picked it up and sniffed it. A clean scent. Didn't make you want to throw up. Awesome. 

You flicked on the faucet and shoved your hands under it. Cold. Fuck. Whatever. You cupped some and brought your hands to your face, dripping water everywhere, and cursing under your breath before gargling some. Best you could do. You spied something red out of the corner of your eye. What was that? You squinted at the towel rack through the mirror, water trickling down your chin. There was a thin scrap of ripped lace fabric on the hanging white towels. 

The guy was still talking. 

"I can get you a spare toothbrush? Do you want some cleanser to wash your face?"

He had a pleasant voice, a little deep. Clear, smooth. Made you think of a cool, refreshing breeze. 

Wait. 

Were those your red panties on the towel rack?

You winced at the mirror. Welp. Those were done for. Didn't look like you could salvage them. You suddenly felt a chilly draft on your bare ass. Your arms were still dripping water as you leaned down and splashed your cheeks. Guess you'll just have to figure something out. You turned off the water and wiped your face off with your palm. A white hand towel appeared. You took it, seeing the guy's tattooed hand and arm. Sexy. He had an emoji tattooed onto his knuckle of a sheepish, crooked smile. 

Kind of looked like you, at the moment. 

You dried your face and hands. 

"Thanks, but it's fine, I'll just go home so I don't bother you," you said, folding the towel and placing it on the sink before moving past him and his curious expression. 

"You're not bothering me. I want to make your morning comfortable."

You noticed your red dress from last night on the ground. The thin straps were torn off and there was a distinct, dark stain down the front. Hmm. You vaguely remembered scooping your tits out and smashing them against his hard dick and dropping a stream of spit down your chest for lubrication before furiously tit-fucking him and making him cum all over your collarbones and neck. 

Ah. 

Well. 

That dress was fucked. 

"Can I borrow this shirt? I'll give it back," you said, turning around to see the guy's face bright pink, staring at your dress on the ground. 

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," he rambled, shifting awkwardly. He was wearing light gray sweatpants. You looked down. He shifted away quickly, but it was pretty hard to disguise that tent. 

You scratched your head. Hm. "Say, uh..." you trailed off again. 

He blinked with those big chocolatey eyes. "Oh, um, Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." 

He stuck his hand out. You shook it, fitting your hand in his, suddenly remembering when you grabbed it and put it between your legs, smearing your juices from his wrist to his forearm and grinding onto his muscle, flexing your opening on his skin as he moaned darkly into your ear.

Ah.

You let go.

You were probably past handshakes, but, oh well?

"Right, erm, Jungkook, do you know where my jacket is?" you asked sheepishly. 

Jungkook whipped his head around, sending his black hair flying everywhere. "I think... it's in the living room?" You remembered running your hands through that hair, panting in his face as he shoved you against the wall, two fingers on your clit and rubbing furiously, those big chocolate eyes watching you come undone under him. 

He moved past you and you flattened against the wall, not touching him. Hm. This increased clarity as you continued to wake up was starting to make this more and more, uh... less chill? Weird? Awkward? You followed him at a slight distance, lifting your head to see his back. Your eyes widened. Long red scratches up and down his defined back, caused by your fingernails as he fucked you violently into his bed, your thighs clasped around his waist and his name in your mouth, his thick cock making your pussy so tight and full that you felt like you were going to explode, so completely jammed with pleasure that you couldn't stop moaning. 

Erm. Hm. You kind of needed panties with the sudden leakage happening down there. 

Oh shit, did you use protection? You frowned as you screwed up your eyes to think. Yes. You did. Jungkook had grabbed them from his nightstand and spilled the whole box, thus causing you both to scramble to detach one in your and his haste.

For. 

Er. 

Fucking like animals. 

You both got one condom and ended up using both.

"Ah, here." 

You reached out and took your long-line black leather jacket from Jungkook. That's right. You'd worn that red satin dress with this jacket and black high heels. You spied them by the mat at what you assumed was the front door. Jungkook wasn't looking at you. His face was red. You slipped on the jacket. Smelled the rum still sticking to it. Right. You went to the club, got a drink, and Jungkook had knocked into you, spilling it into your jacket. It was an accident, but that was fine, because Jungkook was hot and you bribed him into talking to you by asking him to buy you another drink.

Super cute with his apologies, nervously speaking to you all night before loosening up with a few drinks and beginning to tease you, little by little, until you were in his apartment, getting your jacket slipped off your shoulders and his mouth on your newly exposed skin. 

The memory made you reach up to touch your left shoulder. You winced. Peered under the jacket and shirt to see a giant purple hickey. 

"Oh... er, sorry..." Jungkook sputtered sheepishly. "You seemed really into it at the time."

There was damn waterfall between your legs now.

"I was," you replied, a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, I am. Was great."

You facepalmed. Jungkook jumped, startled that you slapped your own face. 

"Sorry, I'm not a morning person. What I meant to say was last night was amazing and I had a great time," you sighed. "You were wonderful. And hot. And sexy. And I'd do it again."

Jungkook blinked at you with those big chocolatey eyes. 

"O... oh." 

He seemed torn on whether to believe you or not. To be fair, your voice was hoarse and you sounded half-dead. Plus, your speech was a little cliché. Sigh. You struggled to retain brain function, shaking your head roughly. It always took you a long time to wake up and it was worse when you weren't home doing your usual routine. You furrowed your brows, raising your head to frown at Jungkook. 

Hold on. 

"Don't you work for my dad?"

Jungkook started, eyes shifting. 

"Er... yeah."

Did you just fuck one of the waiters at your dad's high-end restaurant? All night?

Huh.

What are the chances?

You were going to have to see Jungkook later that night, since you were the hostess.

"You know, Jungkook," you said, realizing why you had spoken to him last night, why it was fun and familiar banter, why he was so cute to you, and why it had been such a good chance. "Let's not tell my dad about this."

Jungkook's eyes went shifty again. "Yeeeeeeeah... let's not."

Your dad meant well. He was loud and brash by nature and scared every human being that hadn't lived under his roof for decades. Speaking of living under his roof... Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like rum and Jungkook's cologne, wearing his t-shirt and no panties.

"You... sure you wanna go home?" Jungkook asked, chewing on his lip. You noticed he looked a bit disappointed. Sad. 

"Actually," you sheepishly began. "Maybe I shouldn't. Not until Papa leaves the house." You twisted your mouth to one side and poked your index fingers together. Awkward. "Your offer for breakfast still stands?" 

He brightened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What do you want?" He held up the phone form the coffee table. "We can order something."

Your eyes shifted to the phone. Ten missed calls. 

"I would call Papa first," you muttered, walking forward and taking the phone from him. You felt his body heat, the closeness of his bare torso. He smelled nice. Jungkook made a surprised noise, only now realizing he had picked up your phone by accident. You slipped your other arm around him and pulled him to you, inhaling his scent. He made another squeak of confusion as you pressed your lips to his warm chest. 

Mmm. Nice. 

You phone vibrated violently and you answered it without looking, kissing Jungkook's skin softly, hearing him gasp and stifle his moan as the sharp bark of your name blasted from the phone speaker. 

"Where are you?!" Your dad was yelling at the top of his lungs. Jungkook shivered under you. He probably thought your dad was pissed, but he was only worried. 

"I'm fine. Slept over at a friend's since I went to the bars last night."

"Oh, fuck, sheesh," your dad grumbled, swearing repeatedly. Your lips began to travel and Jungkook was smacking your arm impatiently, shaking his head, mouthing at you, are you crazy, what the fuck are you doing, before he clenched his jaw and tipped his head back as you began to lazily lick his dark nipple, feeling it harden with your touch.

"Are you eating?" your dad barked in your ear. 

"Mhm, can't start the day unless you eat," was your reply, grinning around Jungkook's nipple as his face was becoming more panicked by the second. 

"That's right," your dad huffed. "What are you eating?"

"Korean."

Jungkook gave you an exasperated, pained look that quickly turned to ecstasy, placing a hand over his mouth and muffling his moan as you sucked in his nipple, bringing your hips into his sweatpants, the tent returning.

"Hah, fine, would it kill you to fucking call so I don't think you're dead?" Now that you were an adult, your dad didn't bother filtering his cursing anymore.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," you replied, very apologetically and sweetly, grabbing a handful of Jungkook's ass and ramming his rock-hard cock into your crotch, clamping your thighs around it. Jungkook was flailing his one free hand and pressing the other over his mouth, trying not to make a fucking sound. 

"I'll remember next time. Promise, Papa."

You heard your dad let out a puff of air. "Hmph. Fine. Don't forget you have to work tonight. I'll let you have the day after off..."

You raised your eyebrows, switching sides and slowly flicking your tongue on Jungkook's nipple, thighs sliding back and forth on Jungkook's clothed length. He was losing it above you, muting his cries and rutting against your thighs to match your pace and add more simulation.

"I thought the other hostess was on vacation for a couple more days?"

"I asked your mother to cover for you," your dad grunted. "You should have some free time while you're still young. Have some fucking fun before you die. That's why I work."

"Ah... okay, thanks Papa. I love you."

"Love you too," was your dad's reply, not so gruff anymore, but warmer and kinder. 

He hung up. 

You dropped the phone from your ear. 

Jungkook gasped a lungful of air, throwing his hand aside now that he could finally breathe, turning into a high-pitched yelp when you yanked his pants down, shoving his cock between your thighs again, but skin on skin this time, angling him down, the head smearing pre-cum in your mid-thigh. Ah, yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when you saw this pretty cock for the first time, looking so perfect squashed between your tits. 

"B-But breakfast..." he choked out between moans.

"I'm getting it," you panted, grinning, sliding up and down his hot stiffness, feeling it twitch. "Best to have some protein in the morning."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, horny and indignant.

"Korean? Really?"

You switched to your hand, kneeling down as you stroked his stiff length hard and fast, giving him a devilish open-mouthed smirk, wet tongue sliding out.

"Hey, I didn't lie."

-

wondering how Jungkook feels about all this? that kind of evening.

--

masterpost

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word

I was tagged by @saltysupercomputer to find a given set of words in my writing and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, and the chance to play my favorite writeblr game!

My Words: pen, nature, ecstatic, cold, down

I'll tag: @aohendo, @crypticcodexcreations, @eli-writes-sometimes, @on-noon, @writingpotato07, and as always anyone who wants to join in can use the following words and say I tagged them!

Your Words: explain, answer, scheme, avoid, dismiss

Also as always, the excerpts themselves are under a cut so they don't take up too much space on people's dashes.

I found pen in my novel WIP "Apricots":

"Do you keep any note paper around here? A pen? Do you just type everything, and do I have to borrow your phone or something?"

"There are note cards and pencils by the teapot, same as always. I haven't moved them since the last time you came over. Are you okay?" Ian starts to get up to show him where they are, but Noah impatiently gestures for him to stay. Noah's legs are a little longer than Ian's, anyway, so the strides he makes across the apartment get him to the kitchen and back in barely any time at all. He complains along the way, mumbling things to himself that Ian can't understand, but there isn't a chance to ask him if those mumblings are important or not before a stack of lined notecards is being slammed down onto the coffee table and a cup full of pencils slides in right next to them.

I found nature in a rough draft of a short story titled "A Question of Time":

"That's better. Now. I am a piece of time itself. I am a cog wasp. You who have plucked time from the air and set it before you in a makeshift chair in a summoning circle. You who have asked for the knowledge of the world from a piece of its own sprawling existence. Ask your question once more, and time will answer," it speaks formally this time, as if greeting him properly for the first time. Was its slightly flippant yet refined nature before not how it's supposed to act when summoned? He shoos the thought from his head, focusing instead on what he'd worked so painstakingly to recover.

"Thank you again for responding to my summons and agreeing to hear me out. My question is this: how do I know how much time it will take to heal from a wound that wasn't inflicted on my body, but on my mind or heart? Do you know the answer?"

"Thank you for your kind and generous methods in summoning me and your careful thought about your question. I do not know the answer."

"What?" he slaps his hand across his mouth more aggressively this time, shocked by his own outburst when his voice rises several octaves into what can only be described as a squeak.

I found ecstatic in a bit of backstory writing about the villain for a D&D campaign I tried to run (scheduling conflicts forced a permanent hiatus) titled "Shifty Business":

If the kobolds can fill the innermost cavern where the dragon sleeps with gold, in a pile so high that the dragon can only barely fit to sleep atop it, then they will have earned not only permission to live here but a place of honor which other kobolds will come to envy for generations to come. Ecstatic, Ironjaw readily agrees to these terms. All he has to do is earn gold and platinum, and he'll catapult up to the position every kobold wishes they could occupy: borderline dragonhood. He even knows how to pull this off, after a little thought. Gathering money means bringing it in consistently and in large amounts, right? He's seen how other races do this, and he's confident he can follow their example. He just has to start a business. He'll be a legitimate business owner, and his entrepreneurial enterprises (he may not be an inventor like other similarly intelligent kobolds, but Ironjaw is and always has been an innovator in many senses of the word) will bring in all the gold and platinum their awesome and benevolent dragon could ever want.

I found cold in several excerpts I've already shared, and also in the intro to a rough draft of a short story tentatively "Puddles & Lakes":

I don't think I dislike being human... but I get up before the sun's fully risen for a reason. The shaky back door shudders into place as usual, the silent cold in the air making its slight reverberation against the house feel like a deep and endless echo. It almost feels like it rattles out from the house itself. An easy wind shakes the skinny limbs of half-dressed autumn trees. I shiver at the sound as much as the chill of the air itself. My breath reaches out ahead of me in the shy morning half-light -- toward the dirt path just down the slope of this tiny backyard. I push past the edge of that little cloud of oxygen, mentally tracing my path. Gliding across damp soil, between dew-touched blades of grass, briefly touching the gate to the yard itself before dashing off to my usual places. I let the scene swirl around me for another breath or two. If I could be the sound of the shuddering door or the gust of the autumn wind or the fence of the yard itself, it might be nice.

I found down in the current draft of a short story titled "Hidden Talent":

"You don't have to believe me. I know it sounds pretty ridiculous. I don't even believe it sometimes. I just figured I... shouldn't hide it from you anymore," Vance shrugs, hyper-aware of how the motion affects his shirt. The wrinkled cloth shifts, tugging existing folds taut in some places and rolling loose fabric in on itself in others. Smoothing out old shapes. Creating new ones. Altering his entire image into something new, at least on a symbolic level. It feels like that change in his shirt is somehow symbolic of the change he's inviting by being honest about his weird ability. His friendship could be broken in a few seconds, or slowly molded into something unfamiliar -- a shape that doesn't quite fit into the space it did before, making Rowan so uncomfortable that the two of them start to drift apart. It could move two folds in the fabric of their relationship that were close to each other, transplanting them to completely new areas. He sets his head against one of the blue swirls and drops his eyes down to the ground, "You can forget I said anything. We can just start the show -- that was the plan, anyway. You're already three episodes behind me, you've gotta catch up. Sorry. For distracting you with... for distracting you."

I found every single word this time, and only one was in a fanfic. If I was keeping better track of how often those things happen, this would probably count as some kind of record. Thank you again for tagging me, I always have a lot of fun with this game!

[w00wzerz]

~Titans … Have they lost the plot?~ 🤔

(All that matters in Titans season 3 ep 11)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to another special edition (rant) analysis for this week’s episode! All I can say is that I took a good couple of hours to steam & marinate after that fiasco. I’ve also had my time to release my frustrations all over Twitter so we are back on track.

Before I begin, yall will notice that a good chunk of events will be skipped because this analysis will only cover all that mattered, which was sadly about less than half of the episode, but I digress.

Let’s talk about my baby Timmy being introduced quite early in the episode. He is greeted by Donna on a roof who coincidentally - finally found her way into Gotham and is headed to China Town (Tim’s neighborhood) for clues. Also with the speed of Tim’s healing process, I’d say that him and Donna most likely returned back with some form of special abilities.

There seemed to be a-lot of plot holes missing in this particular scene, Donna is particularly aware of what is taking place in Gotham and shes also seen the clip, so why wasn’t her first instinct to take a visit to Wayne Manor? Seeing that as an Amazonian, plus with the addition of her recent power charge she was more than capable of defeating Jason and Crane on her own. Possibly even with the help of Conner and Kory, who are extraterrestrial.

(Me: trying to explain this concept at 3 am in the morning)

If this scene were rewritten correctly, they all would’ve met up with Donna “coincidentally” and cleared those idiots in less than a minute.

But anyway, let’s move on to Kory’s shifty storyline. I cannot say that I am impressed by the continuous downplay of her character. There’s no way that the writers had the tiniest inkling that her fans would enjoy the not so subtle erasure of her and Kom’s backstory. Plus the utter obsession that they have with nerfing and stealing her powers each season!

Can someone also explain to me in what world were Starfire’s star bolts ever … blue? I’m still scratching my head, but we move!

The fact that Starfire’s powers were never hers to begin with - that it was stolen from her sister, despite the comics completely contradicting that line of events is comical to me. It sounds like a concept that should’ve remained in the drafts. Yet, here we are.

Can we also acknowledge how adorable the babies playing Kom and Kory were! 💜✨

This next scene definitely ruffled my feathers a bit. Not only was I upset for Conner, but I was incredibly disappointed in Dick. The fact that he decided to breach the trust between himself and Conner by using kryptonite (Superboy’s weakness) against him was a serious low blow. Especially when considering how useful Super boy would be in a fight against Jason.

What I will tell you is that I am intrigued to see how Dick will work to regain Conner’s trust, but with him getting shot in the neck - serves him right - I can only picture that this scene will ultimately be glossed over and all will be forgiven, which is the cliche norm in Titans kumbaya land.

There were so many things that Dick could’ve done differently in that fight scene. Why in the world would he turn his back on a civilian with a GUN?! Why did he not make sure to remove it from his possession before returning his focus back to Jason. The bullet in the neck was clearly the result of his rookie mistake. Plus it’s karma for his stupidity so 🤷🏽‍♀️

🚨HIGHLIGHTS 🚨

I am all here for the mother - son duo that is Tim and Donna. If you weren’t watching this scene with a huge grin on your face like an idiot, then are you even human?!?!

If there is anything that added a short glimmer to this week’s episode, it was surely the contagious relationship shared between these two characters. I could feel the level of mutual respect and Donna’s motherly instinct all over the screen! I cannot wait for her and Kory to finally get together and spill the beans on their adventures. What a ride that’ll be huh?!

That concludes this very… special edition of my analysis, until next time 💜✨

[yjwhatif]

The Part Two (that I forgot to do)…

Ep. 6 Thoughts:

So Artemis’s boyfriend is that soldier dude from the Failsafe episode who’s injured and gets sent through zeta tube - of course he wasn’t real in that ep but that’s still a nice call back. Also Artemis wouldn’t know that since she was ‘dead’ at this point. From what we got of him - I like him - he’s got a fun personality. Though I’ll be honest he sorta reminds me of both Dick and Wally simultaneously - I saw someone say that before he spoke and now I definitely agree with that observation.

I am intrigued by Shade’s relationship with Jade - she reacts to seeing him and he avoids her gaze the whole time he’s there - like he’s ashamed to be seen by her. I always wondered if there was more to the moment she released him - like did he get dirt on her or did she make the choice herself because y’know she a decent human being unlike the villains she categorised with. And from that reaction jade gives, I’d say that was a glimpse of betrayal or disappointment - she gave him a chance of freedom and he didn’t take it, while she probably risked something by letting him go.

It hurt seeing little Artemis all battered and bruised - Sportsmaster is genuinely intimidating in all the flashbacks we’ve seen of him. He is certainly brutal.

I still don’t trust Onyx. She’s shifty. There’s something we’re not seeing yet and I’m not trusting her til we do.

I already said this in part one - but Gar’s grief hurts!!!

I am so intrigued by Orphan - I want more. Also I really liked the bit where she has Looker read her mind to communicate her thoughts - it was a really trusting act that Orphan didn’t seem to think twice about. Ooh I just had a thought - if Orphan connected to a psychic link would she be given a voice?

Spoilers great - I think she had one line this ep - but I like her very much.

Last thing - these end credits are really hurting my soul — are we going back to the uplifting ones soon? (I still love them)

Like it says up top, I forgot to finish this. It’s been part done in my drafts all week - so I figured I’d get it done.

LB

[savnofilter]

Early in the Morning

Bakugo x Reader [1.3k words]

warning(s): sexual content, somnophilia, shifty hands, no degradation. :o

a/n: oml i didnt use dialogue as a crutch this time and im honestly really proud of this one?! idk! i hope you like this one babe. thank you anon!   ~latest followers event!

You quietly tip-toed back to your room, sighing quietly in relief once you close the door softly behind you after you enter. You are quick to move back in next to your husband, moving in close and snuggles back into him once his arms instinctively move around you to hold you close once again. 

You smile softly upon watching his relaxed face, taking in the moment before turning to let your back hit his chest. You slowly close your eyes, ready to go back to sleep before you felt him move closer to you. Your eyes widen as his hard on presses up against your ass, his strong arms keeping you close as his hips instinctively rubbed up against yours. You could hear the soft mumble of your name from his lips, his big hands giving your delicate body a squeeze.

As much as you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, you simply couldn’t. With the heat of desire even radiating off of you during his sleep was enough to get you hot too. You slowly moved to grind your butt up against him, a soft but silent whimper coming from your lips once you hear him growl in response. Your hands grip at the sheets in front of you, your breath starting to hollow as you get aroused.

You make the quick decision to carefully unwrap from your husband's arms once again, not leaving his presence fully this time. You gently lay him on his back, your slip only accentuating the small draft in your room. The erect buds only tell how aroused and out of place this was for you; the early morning cool-air caressing your skin and turning your nipples hard under its touch.

Your hands softly grip his grey sweatpants, shimming him out of them with each daring tug until his muscled pelvis area came into view. Even with seeing it many times you were still affected by seeing the defined muscle that awaited underneath. Your hands continued their journey till his hard cock was free, the member jutting out in a nice curve that made your mouth water. You position yourself over him, pulling up your silk-slip up and pulling your underwear to the side as you grind up against him.

Your breathing was nothing but short puffy pants, the growing need to take in your sleeping husbands cock was burning deeper in your core. You were swift in lifting your hips and letting his tip tease your labia. Your cunts moisture had already lubed him up making it easy to slip onto his large and hard cock. Your hands move to rest on his chest, the other resting on his abdomen as you start to move against him. You applied a subtle amount of pressure against his front, hips slowly moving back to take in his length. You didn’t waste a moment in moving, your nails softly digging into his skin as you started to roll your hips against your husband’s eager cock. 

His sizable hands find refuge on gripping your hips as he starts eagerly grinding up against you, giving the flesh a familiar squeeze as he allows his heavy and droopy eyelids to open up. A small sigh that resembled a grunt escapes his lips, eyes narrowing up at you as his mind takes in the erotic expression of you taking his cock and how just as easily you slid up and down its length. His left hand moves back to grip your ass cheek, fondling it in his hold as he starts to heat up both palms, ready to tease you if need be. Katsuki smirks proudly once you realize he’s awake, hazy and lustful unable to meet his just as lustful gaze.

The lewd sight of the thin strap on your left shoulder dropping to give a short image of your bouncing breasts, the material teasing him of what’s really underneath. His hands grips on your lower section aided with exposing your lower half to him. He licks his lips upon seeing your cunt squeeze and move around him, moving his hips to hit up in you as well. You start to sweat at the feeling of his hot hands on your thighs and ass-cheek, your pace speeding up as you continued to pleasure both him and you. It wasn’t until long his hot fingers were rubbing at your clit, rubbing at the pace you so desired to finally obtain your release, the hot pleasure leaving you soundless. 

His climax came first. The familiar hot semen filling you was enough to spur you onto yours, mouth hanging open as you finish on his cock. Your hips didn’t stop moving though. The need to please him was strong in the air this desperate morning. 

No words weren’t exchanged between you two. The only thing communicating each other's thoughts were the desperate hands and wanton grinding that you two held no conscience. “K-Katsu…” You mumble under your breath, tilting your head to the side as you feel another ball tighten in your stomach. 

“Go on and cum, baby.”

You felt in sync with him as you came the second time, the squeeze of your walls delightedly bringing him along with you. Katsuki was swift in changing position, towering over you in a second while he continued to rock his hips up into yours in silent need. His skin slapped against yours as he picked up the speed. His speed was almost punishing, his hands gripping your waist to ensure you met every one of his rough thrusts, only faltering for a second to yank down your annoying slip that was preventing him from watching your breast bounce against you.

His lips were hot on your skin, large hands moving to interlock your fingers together as he pinned it above your head and caging you in. “Katsuki fuck~” You moan out, eye clenching tight as he made sure to grind up against your engorged clit with each fuck. He made sure to sink his teeth into your skin to hear your call-out even louder for him. His hands gripped your hands tighter, his behaviour and demeanor almost coming off as a punishment for getting started without him. You mewl, feeling him suck at the mark, feeling the blood rush to soothe the spot only for him to carry on his journey to other spots on your neck and chest -- not leaving any skin left behind. 

He leaned back to watch down at you. His grin was predatory, prideful in how he marked up skin, the finish product slick with a thin layer of sweat. You laid there and took him as if that was all you could do -- not bothering to do anything.

His name left your lips like a mantra, willing yourself into another bout of pleasure only Katsuki Bakugo could bring you. You didn’t mind looking submissive and needy under his hot gaze. You welcomed it with your body, back arching to invite his eyes wander at the rest of your body as he wrecked you. 

“Fuckin’ waking me like this… got me all riled up~” He taunts as he grows close too, drunk off of the sounds of your pleasure not failing to make him swoon. He kept a strong front as he continued with his rutting; placing your pleasure on top of his first. This time when he could feel his climax coming he waited until you were close too. You both locked eyes as he got close, his eyes squinting just a bit to let you know he was close too. 

A heavy pant leaves his chest once you guys both finish, slowly pulling out and giving your lips a small peck on the lips. You laid against his chest as you two had just finished another round after you had initially woken him up. You snuggled in closer to your husband’s chest, his arms keeping you close as you felt comfort in your bare skin creating a warm-fuzzy feeling as you two in bed a little longer than planned.

Maybe you should wake him up like this more often.

[stressy-enby]

Chapter 1:  4 Months Later

Cover made on Canva.com

You were great at running. You’d been running from your problems for year, both figuratively and literally. Before however, your problems followed you, now they simply wait on bated breath for your return. What’s the point in running, though, if no one’s chasing you?

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Haha, funny story guys. This may become an angsty slow-burn. I still have no idea how long this is gonna be or take, but it may be a bigger project than I imagined.

. . .

Your shoes tapped quietly against the white tile as you waved to the receptionist as you passed his desk.

It was getting colder, so the police station interior was conversely getting warmer. You shrugged off your coat, reveling in the delectable, toasty heat.

You passed several more desks on the way to your own. At this point, you didn’t have to look to see who would greet you, ignore you, or just frown disapprovingly for simply arriving at work.

The quiet buzz of chatter blended together in a symphony of voices as you walked through the center of it, only to be intercepted by Taiyo.

“Morning, (Y/N)” The older investigator gestured for you to sit.

“Hey, Tai,” You pulled out the chair, and slid your sunglasses on before your eyes met. He pushed a paper cup over to you. “Thanks.”

“Good to see you didn’t take off on us. It’s nice to see you still in the country.” His eyes twinkled knowingly “Go anywhere exotic this weekend?”

Taiyo Antonov was the stern yet kindly man who was charged with keeping an eye on you. He had been the one to bring an end to your “traveling days” as you called them to people outside of the station. Despite him being the reason you where behind bars for three years in three different countries, he had become your closest friend and confidant. You two where a bit of an odd pair; you, a shifty looking 24-year-old who knew far too much about counterfeiting checks, and he, a 52-year-old police investigator who spoke with a vague Russian accent.

“Pfft, if you consider the grocery store exotic, I guess.” You rolled your eyes, peeling the lid off your paper cup to scrutinize its contents. “You visited your daughter, right? How’d that go?”

“It was good, I had fun. She took me mini-golfing.”

“And?”

“And she kicked my ass.”

You chuckled, then took a cautionary sip of your coffee. “Anything interesting on the bracket today, or am I gonna be bored out of my skull for another twelve hours?”

“Actually, you’re going to have some visitors.” Taiyo slid his reading glasses on and flipped through a file. “Ingenium and Deku should be dropping by at seven.”

“Hold on-” You sputtered in confusion, setting your mediocre coffee down. “Why? What did I do?”

“Do you even need to ask that?” He shot you an incredulous look, which you matched with one of your own.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You grunted, fleetingly picturing yourself strangling your friend. “Taiyo. Why do Deku and Ingenium wanna meet me?”

“They’re the ones who presented the idea of releasing you for parole. They fought with me to get you here.” The balding man pulled a paper out of his file and handed it to you. “This is the proposal they turned in.”

You skimmed the typed document. It was about a whole page long, and was a lot like those argumentative essays you had to write back in middle school. There were several well written points about why you should be released from Tartarus and how you could help the police station, even you found yourself being convinced this really was the best place for you. Your eyes skipped to the bottom of the sheet, to the handwritten signatures, Ingenium and Deku. 

“Woah,” You breathed, mildly starstruck. You had originally thought that it was just Taiyo who got you out. You would’ve never imagined that two pro heroes would take this much interest in you. In fact, you found yourself a little hurt that they had taken the time to help you. Two perfect strangers handed you a Get Out of Jail Free card on a silver platter, but Taiyo, the pitying man who had worriedly handed you over to the French police for your first year of imprisonment hadn’t even thought to offer you the same luxury.

“Yeah, they want to check up on you.” Tai smiled a little, a proud dad-like gleam in his eye. “Last time they saw you, you looked like Hell.”

“Imprisonment wasn’t my best look,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pushing that painful twist of betrayal back down.

“I can’t imagine it’s anyone’s.” Your friend replied putting the parole proposal back in the file. “Anyway, I’ve got a few check for you to take a look at.”

He passed a second file over as you rolled your eyes. “So much fun,” You collected it and your drink, standing up. “Don’t you have anything challenging?”

“Our guy has a mix of real and fake checks. That’s interesting.” Taiyo insisted.

“No, that’s boring.” You stated. “If anything, it makes my job easier. This guy’s a real amateur.”

. . . . .

Your bosses seemed to think that giving you a surplus of work would make up for it being incredibly easy. It did not. It just made it tedious, and less fun. The first few days of work were interesting, getting to see different forgery techniques and all, but it had quickly just became monotonous.

You sorted through a pile of checks, easily discerning the fakes. Over years of practice, the identifiers where clearer than day to you. The paper being just a fraction heavier than usual, puckered wording where it didn’t belong, ink that didn’t smell quite right, and so on and so forth.

Your computer dinged, indicating an email, and you eagerly allowed yourself to be distracted. You navigated to your emails, and your eyebrows shot up upon reading the sender’s address.

Ingenium@gmail.com

There were no extra numbers or letters thrown in the address for individuality, so it seemed more likely than not to be the real deal. You were unsure why you were surprised. The hero was already coming to visit you, why shouldn’t he email you?

You shook off the initial thrill of being contacted by a pro hero, and clicked to open the message.

(Y/N) (L/N),

Good morning. I’m just writing to remind you that Deku and I will be meeting you at your workplace at 7:00 PM today. We’re looking forward to the visit, and hope you do as well.

Regards,

Ingenium

Another warm thrill dashed through you as you hit Reply. You fingers hovered above the keys, mentally drafting your response. A few words were typed out, before all being discarded, backspacing all the way to Good moring, Ingenium.

After muddling through your simple email and rereading and rewriting it twice,  you finally hit Send, releasing a breath of air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Good morning, Ingenium,

Thank you for your reminder, I’m looking forward to meeting you and Deku in person. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to see me.

See you soon!

(Y/N) (L/N)

“No email should be this stressful.” You reasoned with yourself, rolling your swivel chair away from your desk.

You leaned back, watching the seconds tick by slowly. Each minute seemed to be longer than the last.

8:46

“This is agony.”

[metanoiamorii]

❛When I was young, I'd read stories about great heroes doing great deeds. The truth is, real heroes don't look at all like I pictured. They're far from perfect. They're bull-headed, stubborn, reckless. And also recklessly brave. They charge in without a thought to themselves. Not without fear or doubt, but in spite of it. We are all scared. But we are going to fight and die anyway, to give everyone else a chance at a better future. Because the future matters.❜

♧ Title: The Legacy of Vires Ius [TSOVI]

♧ Status: World-Building & Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third, I haven't decided if it's limited or multiple quite yet.

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Action

♧ Warnings: Deaths, violence, nudity, cults, classism, a touch of racism, some homophobia, some transphobia, war, torture, a bit of an apocalyptic vibe, gore, eldritch beings, a very long story; I'm sure I'm missing a few more

♧ Featuring: Well for all of you out there who love the found family trope, I got big news for you! On top of, a diverse LGBTQ+ cast of characters, complex and complicated characters, morally grey characters, complex world building, plenty of symbolism, fantasy religions, unique character arcs, if a dnd campaign got written as a story, not necessarily 'the chosen' one but they definitely take up the challenge as if they're meant to; I'm sure I'm missing some, but you get the point!

♧ Setting: Okay so like... You'll get to explore the ENTIRE world in this one. From the Western European inspired countries, to the Ancient Roman inspired Societies, to a Napoleonic France inspired nation, to indigenous islands, to.... Yeah, no, you're getting a whole look at the world in this one.

♧ Synopsis:

It starts with saving the life of an emperor....— scratch that, it starts sooner than that. It starts with a runaway noblelady, a woman who wants to change her life, an eldritch being that takes the form of a weasel, a wanted bastardized nobleman, and an assassin. Together they all take up a misfit job, never telling the truth to one another, aiming to use each other for their own gain.... They come out if it friends, forgetting the original plan.

So, they become an adventuring group together for some years, until an old friend calls in a favor. That's when it starts, saving the life of an emperor. They're rewarded a keep, a paycheck, and newfound nobility. Sure, it wasn't what they all intended, but it happened. Life looks good for them.

They adopt a child of mischief and care for him as if he was there own. And some years later, the child's mother comes looking for him... She joins the family too, with her own mischief group of trouble.

The family grows bigger.

No, none of them mind, not in truth. The keep is large and quiet, really. They prefer the noise and company. They're a happy family together, until...

You probably guessed it by now. Remember the runaway noblelady? Her cousin winds up in town, with a few friends, all hiding from their past, and the law. You guessed it. They stay at the keep and... Well, they never leave. They become family too.

So what happens when you have three different adventuring groups living together?

Well, it certainly isn't a peaceful, quiet life. Mischief is around every corner, and they celebrate life every day— because hey, you don't always survive slaying a manticore, or stopping a nation from going to war, or even protecting your friends from their past....

But you know what doesn't happen to every adventuring group? Not all of them have to fight a war bigger than themselves. Not all of them take up championships from the gods to fight a field bigger than themselves.

The group originally thought the worst foe they would have to deal with is... Well, they collectively decided his new name is Dickzini. He's a fool, and easy to handle. But, they never knew someone else pulled his strings.

And that person?

That person, who's older than even Khaalida herself, wants to burn the world to the ground as they know it.

So, no more keep. No more politics. No more partying every night. No more misfit jobs. It's time to wield a weapon and prepare for war. Not to protect the world, but to protect each other. It's not a problem if they will do it... But even if they never voice it to one another, they fear if they'll all make it out alive.

♧ Excerpt:

[I want to go on record, I went through at least twenty different excerpts trying to depict which would be best, and this is the one you get.]

"So?"

"So what?"

Rihtyxr faltered where he stood when the nonchalant response was given. The bastard didn't even look up from his dinner plate... He had to stop himself from scrunching his face and showing his annoyace.

He took in a breath, his tail flicking behind him. "What do you think?"

"About?"

Rihtyxr had to bite his bottom lip and tap his fingers against his legs to stop himself from doing something rash. "... The kid— my kid— I was introducing you to..."

"Oh." The knife stopped scraping against the plate. A napkin was picked up, used to dab away the ichor, before dropped onto the plate. Hands neatly folded, Rons'ta lifted his head to stared forward. "I don't like it."

Again, Rihtyxr faltered. "What do you mean—"

"You're playing with something dangerous, Rîxie." Purposely, he used that nickname to infuriate the trickster. "It'll either cost you your crown, if not your life... If we are lucky."

The trickster scoffed. "You're simply paranoid, like always, you bastard. My own flesh and blood would never do me harm!"

Rons'ta was quick to scowl. As it was a rare occasion, he allowed himself to slam a fist against the table and raise his voice at his compatriot. "You should have smothered it in its crib, you arrogant fool!" In he breathed. Out he exhaled. He raised his glass to his lips and looked away, muttering against the rim of the cup. "... You've birthed the end of all things, Nameless Ones help us all when he realizes his power.... Khaalida take pity on the fools to stand in his way..."

♧ Characters:

Here is your cast of characters, since there is a lot, I'll be supplying minimal information until their character intros. I'll be supplying the main ones, but gods are there many in this story.

Vires Ius: 'The Heroes'

━━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Kalimali Sayegh

Male • He/Him • Pansexual • Demiromantic • Half Elf • The Exiled Magister

♧ Blythe Vidya

Transfem • She/Her • Pansexual • Demiromantic • Half-Minx • The Lady of The Voice

♧ Helene Laverna

Nonbinary • She/They • Asexual • Demiromantic • Human • The Runaway Priestess

♧ Raz Gacheru

Transmasc • He/They • Bisexual • Demiromantic • Half-Witch • The Ex-Assassin

♧ Robyn Trikfoot

Male • He/Him • Out of my house asking about a child's sexuality • Halfling • The Champion of Redemption

♧ Biscuits

He/Him • Weasel • ???? • The Mascot

The Misfits: 'The Troublemakers'

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Vrykolas

Transmasc • He/Him • Demisexual • Demiromantic • Nephalem • The Trophy Son

♧ Diablos

Demiboy • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic • Arc'yni • The Scavenger

♧ Alacèto Qystione

Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Aromantic • Half-Elf, Half Succubus • The Bard

♧ Eithirna

Female • She/Her • Demisexual • Aromantic • Witch • The Wolf Blood Witch

♧ Amidir Naberius Qystinoe Scathaghe

Agender • He/They • Demisexual • Demiromantic • Half Light Elf, Half Dark Elf • The Raven's Champion

The Shifty Bunch: 'The Riffraffs'

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Chayliel

Agender • He/Him • Grey-Asexual • Demiromantic • Nephilim • The Rebellious Soldier

♧ Niky 'Noé' Orlan Von Brandt

Nonbinary • He/They • Grey-Asexual • Aromantic • Witch • The Horned Witch

♧ Caiomhe

Transmasc • He/They • Asexual • Demiromantic • Fairy-Human-Elf hybrid • The Reckless & Selfless

The Angels of Darkness: 'The Cult'

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

♧ Damocles 'Dámianus' Aliah Teivel

Agender • He/They • Grey-Asexual • Aromantic • Great Old One • The Mad One of The Void

♧ Miriam 'Misam' Heyoka-Teivel

Nonbinary • They/She • All that matters is she is attracted to power • Witch • The Angel Of Darkness

♧ Gaylon 'Gazini' Mavolio

Agender • They/He • Asexual • Aromantic • Great Old One • The Thing That Shouldn't Be

♧ Karayan 'Ianira' Than Blackthorn

Genderfluid • They/He • Homosexual • Aromantic • Feytouched • The Dark Devourer

♧ Malachi 'Jinx' Puck Melodie

Genderfluid • She/They • Homosexual • Aromantic • Feytouched • The Laughing Mistress

Taglist:

If you would like to be added, feel free to leave it in the tags, drop a comment, send in an ask, or shoot me a dm!

[avani008]

fic writer tag game!

Tagged by @allegoriesinmediasres and @partialdignity. Thank you both <3!

how many works do you have on AO3?

83.

what’s your total AO3 word count?

267, 880. (Oh...wow.)

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

Baahubali, Mahabharata, Ramayana, Jodhaa-Akbar, Padmaavat, Star Wars, Greek Myth, Arthurian Mythology, Fairy Tales, Genghis Khan-Music Video, Smallville, Devil's Cub, Ever After, Persuasion- Jane Austen, Idylls of the Queen- Phyllis Ann Karr, Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn, Sliding Doors, Hamilton, Black Panther, Original Work.

(20, effectively)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Copilot (342)- the eternal WIP which fills me with SHAME, because "Han adopts Rey" still objectively strikes me as a good premise for an AU, but (1) the subsequent films didn't seem to find their relationship as interesting as I did and (2) by now, I have no doubts some genius has already written it, and better than I could!

Coming Home (299) - Proof that therapy fic and tragic parent-child relationships are....kind of an Avani thing? Welp.

Kathodos (230) - I am delighted but also...kind of surprised this one is so popular??? Anyway, I enjoyed turning the Hades/Persephone myth on its head, and my recip in the challenge was both lovely and seemed to enjoy this, so that's what really matters!

Enchantment Passing Through - (193) Eventually I might finish this, I guess, but it would involve a lot more planning and outlining and HP-deep-diving than I particularly want to at the moment. But again, I am so grateful people seemed to have liked this little prologue and been so kind about it!

Nidhana (157)- The fact that--presumably--one hundred and fifty actual people have read this and enjoyed it never fails to bring a smile to my face. I love you all so, so much.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

In theory, yes, but I've gotten so far behind it doesn't seem like I'll catch up for a bit!

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

*shifty eyes* Hahaha, angst? Me? Surely you jest. Seriously, though, one of the Tumblr Mahabharata break-it AUs? Or if it has to be on AO3, personally I thought Sarvaga was the saddest, but if any of you guys disagree, I'd be curious to know!

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

*laughs* Oh boy, do I ever. Um, aside from those already mentioned, there is a perma-drawer fic Baahubali/Black Panther crossover featuring dreamworld friendships, which is probably the weirdest thing I've actually even started to draft....

have you ever received hate on a fic?

If I have, I'm plainly too oblivious to realize it. Mostly, though, I think that this is because my readers are unbelievably kind to me.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

I don't, largely because I'm no good at it. I'll stick to innuendos and the occasional off-color joke, for everyone's sake.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to the best of my knowledge!

have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I recall!

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With the fabulous @parlegee, brainstormer/beta extraordinaire who patiently reads all my overenthusiastic drafts/notes and doesn't laugh.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

Ooh, this is a hard one. Um. Lois Lane/Clark Kent was probably an early one I imprinted on, but also Pratham/Gauri, the leads from a really terrible but also hilarious Indian soap from when I was a kid; Amarendra/Devasena probably works its way up to a lifetime one from all the thinking/ficcing/meta I've done about it; and honestly, I've been a Krishna/Rukmini stan since I was a wee one (Female agency and strikes against patriarchal-arranged-marriage FTW!)

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

Eventually, we will finish the Ramayana space AU because it really is the best of our crazy AUs. It just--might take a bit until then.

(On the personal front, I will finish this origfic someday? Mayyybe?)

what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, characterization, plot, humor (I hope?)

what are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes, smut scenes, That One Scene you need to get the plot from Point A to Point B but is boring as anything to hurry up and get done.

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

IMO, best used as a garnish/minimally--otherwise, you risk breaking readers out, even if they are familiar with the foreign language you are using. That said, there are always exceptions: in Sarvaga, linked above, I use the direct transliteration of dialogue in Tamil, because a translation wouldn't at all convey the duality or the intent of it after all.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Really bad Lois and Clark fic, IIRC, which were mostly syrupy missing-scenes and episode tags.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I think I have to go with Nidhana, simply because I can't believe I actually finished a multichapter fic with an actual plot!

Tagging @walburgablack @parlegee @queenofmahishmati @mockingjaypin @carminavulcana @holy-muffins @oldshrewsburyian @tuulikki and literally anyone else who wants to do this and wasn't tagged already!

[axiomsofice]

Group A:

 Owen Power, D, NCAA

This is likely the only pick that we’ll be able to predict with much conviction. It’s a package that is impossible to ignore, a huge frame, good passing skills, and already contributing at a high level. Seeing as the second-to-last defenceman to go 1st (Ekblad, get well) just started to transform into his best self, and with Dahlin posting uneven results early in his journey, there shouldn’t be an expectation for Power to make the jump to Buffalo next season. Especially given he’d be headed back to Michigan, a higher level than junior, this should be an ideal place for him to hone his craft for a year or two before the Sabre slide him into their top 4.

 Group B: 2nd to 10th

 Some consensus should be coming as we approach the draft, but in general it wouldn’t be surprising for these players to be selected anywhere in this range. Central accounting’s lists were quite surprising and I definitely take their opinions to heart, along with many other opinions as well. I’ve divided them by position.

 Defence:

 Brandt Clarke, D, Slovakia (via OHL)

Clarke went overseas to find playing time this season, playing pro in Slovakia. He’s got a lot of agility, or shiftiness, with and without the puck. He’s aggressive in pursuing offence with his passing and skating, and has the quality to make plays and even score goals when he jumps up into the play.

 Luke Hughes, D, USNDTP

The third instalment of the Hughes Brothers (Quinn and Jack), Luke is bigger than his brothers and amongst the youngest of the draft class. He has all the tools we’ve come to expect from the family interns of puck skills and skating prowess, although time will tell maybe not quite to the level of his brothers, but nonetheless standouts amongst this draft class. Given his age, and playing at a lower level than the rest of these top ranked defenders, the baseline of at least one more year before thinking about jumping to the NHL might be 2 for Hughes. With patience and development, Hughes could prove to have the most upside among blueliners in this class.

 Simon Edvinsson, D, SHL

Not quite as tall as Power, but Edvinsson a big person in his own right. He uses this size and his skating to be a really effective defender. His offensive game, especially his passing and decision making, or perhaps better framed as transitions, is still a bit raw. Surviving in the SHL at this age is definitely an accomplishment, and the hope is that next season he can make a bigger difference in that league. It seems all but guaranteed he’ll be able to contribute in the NHL at some point, the question is more about how much.

 CENTRE

 Matt Beniers, C, NCAA

Beniers is definitely the prospect I’ve seen the most of in the class, and especially early in the season I had almost cone to terms with ranking him number 1. Although it is significant to me that Central Scouting had him as their 6th NA skater. He’ll be described as a 2-way centre, maybe a 2nd line type of centre, and I wonder if it’s mostly due to a perceived lack of upside that others might have jumped past him. Regardless, he’s already succeeding in at Michigan and played a big role on the Gold Medal U20 US team. He supports his teammates all over the ice and is a great passing outlet from breakouts to zone entries. He does have some skill and is probably my favourite to go 2nd overall at this point (June).

 Mason McTavish, C, SUI (via OHL)

Another OHL top prospect who had to venture overseas for ice time, McTavish performed really well in a men’s pro league. Perhaps a bit more powerful in skating and style than Beniers, the situation with the OHL, a strong U18 performance, and a high season end Central Scouting Ranking (2nd NA), it’s likely McTavish will be considered a late riser, even though it’s not as if a strong development curve wasn’t expected. Especially as we get closer to the draft we should expects to see his name solidify itself in this 2-10 group, especially given his position.

 WINGS

 William Eklund, W, SHL

Eklund posted really good results in the SHL this year. He is able to contribute offensively in many ways, and at this point his game seems to be more effective than astounding. Having succeeded at such a high level already it’s hard to imagine he won’t be able to make a difference on an NHL roster in a year or two.

 Kent Johnson, W, NCAA

Johnson might be a good foil to Eklund in that his play oozes skill, often able to makes and see plays at an extremely high level. He was able to translate it into both a strong performance at Michigan, and a high spot on Central Scoutings’ List. The fact that they ranked him above Beniers is very interesting to me, and says that scouts think his game will take well as he moves into higher levels. He is very fun to watch and attacks laterally in a way that only the high quality players can.

 Dylan Guenther, W, WHL

19/20 was strong for Guenther, and a short and strange season for the WHL was enough for him to grow his reputation. He averaged both a goal and an assist per game in 24 games this season, basically playing as well as he could have. The CHL leagues were probably most affected among top development leagues, so it’s hard to know how much that affected things. That being said, should he return to the WHL it’ll be a tall task to improve his offensive output. Despite playing at a lower level he is very much in the mix with Eklund and Johnson, and it is quite likely there will be nothing close to a consensus on which order these wingers are selected.

 Goalie

 Jesper Wallstedt, G, SHL

More and more often were seeing really high ranked goaltenders, and as more of them start to pan out, it’s hard to make a case picking against Wallstedt. Posting great numbers in the SHL as a skater is impressive, but in net the accomplishment becomes truly rare among draft eligibles. The position is volatile, and it often takes time to find the metal stability to be an NHL starter. That’s why despite the dominant results in the SHL, it’s probably best to err on the side of patience. That being said, it’s exciting to conceptualize that he might be able to make a difference at the NHL level in 2-3 years vs in his mid to late 20s as is common for netminders.

 Group C

 This group I would call likely 1st rounders, obviously some of this caliber of player can fall into round 2, even in more normal years. Some might even be able to push over some of the group B prospects ranked ahead.

 WINGS

 Matthew Coronato, W, USHL

The Chicago Steel have a great program, and seem to have a more consistent line of talent than most of the others in their league, perhaps similar to the London Knights of the OHL. That being said Coronato scored at a ridiculous pace, even compared to his teammates. In part thanks to the Steel this league is being seen as more and more credible when it comes to drafting prospects. It is still not quite as strong of a league as the SHL or NCAA, but it might be the only thing that keeps him from going in the top 10.

 Nikita Chibrikov, W, KHL

There is debate about who the best Russian forward prospect is between Chibrikov and Svechkov. In Chibrikov’s favour is the ranking from Central Scouting as well as a really strong U18 performance. It seems every year that the best Russian prospects don’t garner much respect from those who aren’t scouting the region specifically, so it shouldn’t be a surprise for all 3 Russians in this range (Chibrikov, Svechkov, and Chayka) to be selected earlier than one might expect.

 Fabian Lysell, W, SHL

He is not quite as good a prospect as Lucas Raymond from the 2020 draft, yet the two are similar in that they are small, offensively capable wingers who didn’t get much ice time in their draft years, and who are much better at pressuring the puck all over the ice than given credit for. It wouldn’t be a surprise for him to fall a bit due to his stature, but Lysell still figures to go I. The first round.

 Isak Rosen, W, SHL

 Simon Robertsson, W, SHL

 Brendan Othmann, W, SUI

Othmann has the size, power, and skating skills that figure to translate well to the pros. He has the shot and puck skills to be dangerous on the rush and gets a lot of chances to do so thanks to his abilities in transition and counter attacks.

 CENTRES

 Aatu Raty, C, SML

At one point a favourite to be the top ranked prospect in this class, Raty stock has cooled recently thanks to some less than promising results in the Finnish pro league. He’s big and strong enough to be effective along the walls in zone offence, and is able to find open ice in shooting positions. Typically, the Finns employ a utilitarian skillset, disposed to strong 2-way play or substance over style. I believe that this often causes the offensive capability of Finnish prospects to be undersold (thinking of Anton Lundell from the 2020 draft). If supported in the right way Raty could be a steal, especially given the scarcity of strong centres in this class.

 Fedor Svechkov, C, KHL

 Cole Sillinger, C, WHL

 Chaz Lucius, C, USNTDP

  DEFENCE

 Corson Cuelmans

 Carson Lambos

 Daniil Chayka

  Group D

 This group is players I have a first round grade on, but are by no means a lock to be selected afterwards. No doubt that some of this group will be selected from the mid second round and later. At this point there is a greater number of prospects, so I’ll merely name a few that I feel strongly about.

 Forwards

 Logan Stankoven

 Zachary L’Heureux

 Chase Stillman

  Defence

 Scott Morrow

 Stanislav Svozil