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thateldribitch · 8 months ago

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A Red Sky's Interlude

Chapter Three: Chekhov's Molotov

TW: Body Horror, Torture (oops), Murder Bois be Murdering. You've been warned.

Honestly I just post these on tumblr to make the mood boards lol. Here's AO3!

The click of a lock soothes the savage beast. After all, he’ll feed it soon. Azul takes a breath. His heartbeat calms. His eyes skim the water-stained walls with disgust and sharp interest, like he’s looking for the cheapest meat in the butcher shop. That’s what this bastard is, in a way…. Something so unsavory isn’t worth being called his prey.

Though, that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate Floyd’s predatory grace. He moves like he’s still in water—effortlessly twining through the narrow channels between too-small, too-cramped tables and cheap chairs. But there’s not a soul in sight. Sunshine-olive eyes instinctively dart to the flickering neon signs advertising different beer brands… and linger on one. Azul shakes his head ruefully and taps his cane as he heads towards the bar. He skims the shittily scrawled menu, before he slips into a rickety seat. It creaks. A hand immediately settles against his back.

Floyd looms. He leans against the counter, barring Azul in with an arm. Smack! His palm against the counter finally summons the stumbling bartender from a smoke-filled room. Azul taps his cane against Floyd’s leg. But, his eel remains, slitted eyes never leaving the bastard’s… throat. He’s not going anywhere, is he?

Azul sighs, shelving his palm and glancing at the smog seeping under the shutter door. “How nostalgic.”

“Hm?” The man grunts, hazily blinking at him. Perhaps he’s the namesake for the bar—the squat, ugly building rather resembles its owner.

“Robbie, I assume?” Azul smiles, all caustic charm.

“Who’s askin’?” Robbie glances at Floyd. To his credit, the eel hides his teeth in a thin-lipped smirk.

“Only someone who appreciates high quality cigars,” he chuckles, adjusting his glasses slightly.

“Yeah?” Robbie proudly shoves his stupidly thick tobacco stick back between his yellowed teeth. Thick gray clouds slide like oil down the stubbled rolls of his neck. His jaundiced eyes fall to a serpent’s lid. The thick knots of his knuckles crack, stiffen, crack again. There’s a wince to his dry lips.

Azul’s only known Robbie for a few moments, but he knows him. He’s arthritic, an addict, and loves money. The fact he flaunts cigars means he likes the status symbol, but can’t afford the lifestyle. Yet he can’t seem to see the ashes he drowns in trap him in the life he lives now. Stupid. Predictable. But even a blind rat can smell money. He subtly shifts so the genuine-gold rings glitter on his tailored gloves. Oh, how this slime of a man clenches his fingers into his knock-off watch….

Actually, it might be genuine… ly stolen. Hm.

“Indeed. Is it….” He pauses, tapping just near his mole. Floyd shifts. Robbie leans back, greasing a cloth over his disgusting hands. “Guhrka, perhaps?”

“Ha!” He shakes his head, then takes a proud puff. “ Ideales . Limited Cohiba. Premium Cuban.”

Almost $17,000 a box. Azul’s eyes appraise the man, and the bastard appraises him in kind. But, a pawnbroker can’t match the eyes of a jeweler. His pupils shift to a caecilian slit. A trick of the light, surely. Robbie sees, he gets greedy, and he forgets. Too stupid to even smell blood in the water. But, he’s either good at something, or he’s in debt with a lot of people. Pouring every extra cent into his expensive little sin. And who knows what he’s done to accomplish that. Not that Azul cares about that part….

But the bastard certainly wouldn’t have pissed him off if he hadn’t kept feeding his bad habit with a worse scheme.

“Oh, I never managed to find one of those,” he taps his chin. Floyd shifts to squat next to him. His chest still brushes the bar top. Azul brushes a hand over his head. “Hm. Would you give me one for the price of another box?”

Robbie swallows, eyes never leaving the more obvious threat. “I uh. Just one?”

“It’s the experience of it, isn’t it?” His grin is enough to poison an emperor. “Having something no one else can have?”

Eyes filling with gold-glitter greed, he immediately nods. His eyes leave Floyd for a moment… then dart back. “Er… anything for your friend?”

“Got anything with Everclear?” Floyd finally pipes up.

“On the house!”

“Bring the whole bottle,” Floyd waves him off, but curls like a spring as Robbie scurries away. Azul settles a hand against the back of his neck, and settles to thumb at those teal baby hairs. His eel shifts closer. He ruffles his fingers through his hair in the wild pattern that he likes, before smoothing it down. Floyd exhales, and nods.

There’s a huff-puff-wheeze from the back room. In eerie unison, the two mermen lock on to the re-emerging Robbie. If the man’s unnerved, he forgets the moment Azul starts to shift through his wallet. The cigar, displayed on a napkin-clad plate, totters into view. “Rob—may I call you Rob?” The man might well agree to anything, with as hypnotized as he is by the hundreds flicking through gloved fingers. “I’ll be taking one of your signs as well. Which one is your best?”

“Uh—the Pink Fairy Absinthe is an antique—?”

“Floyd, grab that one and whatever else you want.”

Rob laughs nervously, but nods. He’s sweating bullets as he stares at the bills, trying to count the green blurs flying through Azul’s fingers. He pauses, stares with his thumb over far too few bills. At least the man’s smart enough to pounce to offer the cigarette to him. It’s mahogany brown-red, rich with expensive tobacco and crisped by a slightly crinkled black and gold tag. But those blue eyes keep boring through him. The Everclear bottle miraculously smacks down on the counter as well.

Anything to taste riches, hm? Not an ounce of pride once there are dollars in his eyes. Azul plops his jaw open, curling a fist under his chin expectantly. Mesmerized, Robert delicately places the cigar in his mouth. He’s so enamored with his proximity to youthful wealth that he doesn’t notice Floyd taking the signs down with brutal efficiency. Knowing him, even the screws are probably fully intact….

He closes his teeth around the smokey-flavored paper, cocking his head away from Rob’s plastic-white Bic lighter. Jaundiced eyes fixate on the way he cocks his cigar at an elegant angle, meeting the elaborate end of a gilded coral lighter. The warm light barely catches the glint of Floyd darting his tongue over his teeth—there and gone. Their eyes lock. He puffs a cloud into those sunshine-yellow pools. Floyd’s nostrils flare; his pupils dilate.

“So, uh—about the money?” Rob reaches forward, drawn by the siren stack of bills. His jaw hangs down. Ah, so he is good at counting.

That’s all he’ll ever be good for.

Floyd snaps forward. Rob gurgles out a blood-choked scream, staggering back into the unfortunately cheap glass shelves. Crash! Shards coat the palm that bore his weight. Yet he still clutches his mouth, writhing his oil-slick ham legs against the filthy floor as if it’ll stop the red waterfall flowing down. Those pig-like eyes bug out as his tongue splats against the ground next to him.

“Fuck, ah fuck—that wath so grossth—” Floyd sputters pink-tinged spittle against the counter.

“There’s some in your teeth,” Azul exasperatedly pokes his chin off the shoulder of his ‘business’ suit.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Floyd lets himself be pushed away by a single fingertip. Oh, the impulses of this terrifying eel of his. Though, he has to admit the results are rather satisfying. Robbie is far too panicked to even move. The ‘freeze’ part of the instinctive human reactions to danger etches into his horrified features. He’s just lying there , suffering and panicking and unsure of what to do.

Perfect .

Azul just flashes his teeth in a wide, near deranged smirk. Meanwhile, Floyd peels the aluminum with his teeth, scraping a few grisly chunks off the points before spitting the cap off and to the side. He spits shrapnel at the writhe-wailing bartender—and in one, smooth motion, dives over the counter with the Everclear. Azul settles into the rickety seat, flicking ash onto the dismembered tongue as Floyd looks up at him expectantly.

“Do what you like. Just make it slow.”

“Hot.”Floyd drops to his heels, and, with one hand, yanks Robbie up to face him. Gravity causes thick, black-red rivers to gush from the stumped remains of his tongue. He kicks and wetly squeals. Floyd smashes the Everclear over his knee. Thick glass shards scatter, sliding into paper-thin skin, digging deeper with each, pained writhe. A pitched-hoarse giggle masks a gargle-scream.

“So you really thought ya could give away our shrimp?” His single, gold eye burns through the man’s rotten soul. Slowly, he drags him up. Red leaks down the sides of his head, as the hairs strain against the weight of his whale-bloat gut. Up and up. Just far enough that he can jam a piece of glass into the vulnerable joint of his knee. “How much did you get from that Lionfish, huh?”

The glass jerks out. Dives back into the skin with a far more vicious strike. “One cigar?” He drives the shard deeper. Something severs. His leg falls limp. “Two?” Deeper–it splinters before it can pierce through to the other side. Floyd pouts, drops him, and stands. “Ugh. Boring.”

His foot cracks down on Robbie’s other knee, shattering it with the sheer force of the stomp. Limp in a pool of his own blood, he only knows peace for a moment before Floyd jolts a spell through his system. He chokes awake, eyes wide with fear.

“Nuh uh.” That sharp, wild grin pounces back down. “We’re done when I say we’re done.” Pausing, he cocks his head to the side, then scratches his cheek. “Or Azul does.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckles as he leans over the bartop, waving his hand like a king giving some royal decree. Floyd’s eyes lurch back, like one predator snapping to acknowledge another… and melts as Azul pets his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the show.”

A pleased hum accentuate’s Floyd’s pleased blush, unsettling over his sadistic grin. He whips around. Crunch . His fist drives into his nose. And he just. Keeps. Swinging. It looks barbaric, wailing on a worm barely able to moan in pain. But it’s precise. Ribs! Pelvis– femur! Humerus , carpals. Fingers . He snaps those like wooden sticks, each joint splintered like a crippled lightning bolt. At least twice more, Floyd must use the spell to keep. The bastard. Awake.

Abruptly, he stops. Elegantly, he dives back up to place a blood-stained watch over Azul’s waiting wrist. He nips his finger, grins as it flicks him, and then dives back down. It’s one, smooth motion—a predatory, primal swoop. As if he were one with the air as he was with the water. A ribbon of motion. Pure, primal grace. And so sweet. He rolls his eyes and smiles, admiring the brass against his cuff. It’s an antique. What a find.

And what a cheapass.

“This was an Oro Blanco, by the way,” Azul flicks the cigar with the hastily-wrapped black label on to the sputter-screaming man. An ember sparks on his clothes, ignites into wildfire along the pools of strategically soaked skin. The Everclear burns with frightening speed. The smell of cooked flesh fills the area, as Robbie writhes and thrashes and gargles. But he looks on, glasses shining unimpressed before the flames.

“Disgusting old man,” he drives the heavy cane tip into Robbie’s sternum. Drives hard enough to feel the bone splinter. The grease-stained wife-beater drowns in strangled chunks of boiling blood. But the thick clots can’t escape the throat fast enough. Unable to scream as he drowns in his own lifeblood, Robbie feels his skin crack from the heat. Pink muscle bursts from seared fissures. He can smell himself cooking. Perhaps it’s the panic, perhaps it’s the pain, but he begins to contort wildly, uncontrollably. A body’s final twitch of life before—

Floyd waves his pen. Robbie chokes as he’s robbed of the chance to die. Because he’s not allowed to leave so easily. Oh, they won’t stick around long…. But they’ll make him suffer long enough to make sure his tinderbox bar will be his coffin.

“They’ll never know, you know,” Azul removes his glasses to look Robbie in the boiling pits where his eyes once sang their silent screams. “They’ll think you drank the alcohol equivalent to gasoline, stumbled into your bar, and bit your tongue off. And then the rubble crushed you. The. End.”

No one will bother to look further. No one will avenge him. He’ll die in the smoke he once craved. The realization tears another gargling wail from the man…. But blue eyes only glitter with hellfire. “You underestimate pretty things, don’t you, Rob? That’s why you think they’re easy money….”

“You are pretty small, though,” Floyd plops his chin on Azul’s shoulder. “Like this, anyway.” His hands hook around his waist, dragging him closer. He doesn’t care about the slow gasps in the wheezing cries. He doesn’t like the smell, though. Doesn’t like the heat. He all but drags Azul off the chair, away from the fire.

He just dangles, plopping his head back with a hum. “I’m still not our smallest.”

Not anymore.

Floyd hums back at him, drumming his fingers against Azul’s stomach. He drags him up to flip him around and bury him in his chest. Compliantly, he wraps his legs around his lover’s middle, letting himself be carried off into the night. By the way Floyd hunches around him further, he knows he’s pleased by the gesture….

Possessive and protective in one.

On their way out, Azul flicks his pen three times. Once to clean the blood from their outfits; once to remove their tracks; and a final flick makes Robbie gasp in one more lungful of smoke. And with that, he can contently settle into his lover’s neck. He nudges his nose against the old imprint of his teeth against Floyd’s steady pulse.

“I’m assuming you teleported those signs home?” He drapes his arms gracefully over broad shoulders.

“Mhm.” Floyd drags his cheek across his like a pleased cat. “Gonna give that pink one to Shrimpy.”

“Cute,” he hums. Content silence spirals between them. People bolt past. Screams ring out of ‘fire, fire!!’ Smoke blocks out the moon. But no one pays any mind to the sweet couple doting on each other. Believe it or not, humans tend to look away from one lover being whisked away in the other’s arms. And it’s dark.Their more aquatic features are hidden by the cover of night.

“You think you can breathe underwater like this?” Floyd’s voice shatters his schemes, makes him focus on the rare, sheepish tint to the question.

“Oh? And why, pray tell, are you asking that, Dear?” He purrs.

“...You’re really small like this,” he mumbles. He squeezes Azul closer, fingers kneading at the small of his back. “Just. You’re usually bigger. Y’know?”

“Mm. I suppose I probably can—”

That’s all the encouragement Floyd needs.

Splash!

The last thing he thinks he hears is some smug little giggle about hogging him. Something about Jade. Revenge. Petty brotherly squabbles. But then sharp teeth skim over his lips, water bubbles around them, and his thoughts slip away in the slide of Floyd’s tongue against his. There’s no need to worry, after all….

He knows both of his other mates are fine.

They’re together, after all.

Some people were probably like "But where's Jade?!"

Oh we'll answer that eventually, don't you worry.

#Psychological Horror #Body Horror #Dark Themes--but mostly implied somehow #Oh yeah we're up to torture now (oops)#Floyd/Azul #Azul Ashengrotto/Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto/Reader #Floyd Leech/Reader

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irbcallmefynn · 1 year ago

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Cringetober 2023 #31: Halloween!

Made a short little comic thing for this one! Evidently, Fynn isn't too good of a host for the spirit of Halloween. The most evil thing he does is eat people, but he only does it when the deserve it, so it's more... antihero? I guess?

Looks like Tumblr image compression kinda butchered this one, I think you get a better quality if you click on it? For things like this I tend to have a transcript of dialogue in the alt text, so check there if you're having trouble reading it.

Cringetober was loads of fun! Gave me something to do every morning, and gave lots of opportunities to experiment with my art and figure out what works! I'll definitely be doing another October art thing next year, maybe Octransfur or Weretober or something else aggressively furry.

#cringetober #fynn art #paint.net #furry #furry art #sfw furry #furry anthro #wolf furry #wolf fursona #teeth mention #They are there but it's so low detail you can't really tell

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thefrogswhospoke · 1 year ago

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EVEN MORE TF2 HCS BC IT'S BEEN A BAD DAY AND THIS IS MY ONLY JOY

🛑This is just my opinions spilled out onto tumblr, you don't have to agree pls don't start an argument over my tf2 posts lol🛑

Who I think the tf2 mercs would be at a family summer bbq :))

pyro - littlest child, duh - chaotic ass youngest cousin running around with a knife/box of matches/other not allowed things

engineer - sorta crazy, fake rational uncle - has master the art of the polite Sothern smile - stands back and watches scout/pyro do dumb shit and only steps in once someone breaks an arm/the beer runs out

spy - WINE. AUNT. - OR the random relative no one speaks to or mentions - only shows up if alcohol and gossip is provided

heavy - contrary to popular belief for some reason: MOTHER, through and through - actually tries to keep the mercs out of too much danger to an extent

sniper - quiet/distanced older brother who was already in high school/college when his siblings were born - OR the quiet older cousin who's forced to watch the younger kids (pyro/scout) during family gatherings

scout - second youngest cousin - OR second OLDEST cousin who the youngest clings to and gets into trouble with

soldier - strange grandpa that screams at spaghetti and talks about the horrors of the [insert] war - makes bats for the younger children despite protests from their parents (actual thing my grandpa did lol)

demo - uncle who showed up to the family summer bbq already drunk - ends up wither sleeping outside face down in a wheelbarrow OR in the pool shed

medic - WINE MOM - or the relative that allows the little cousins (SCOUT/PYRO) access to whatever they need for their shenanigans (wanna scare your mom? here have a butcher knife. wanna light a tree on fire? i have illegal fireworks in my trunk.) - idk I think his bbg qualities are tainting my perception of him

anyways that's it, feel free to add more this is fun :)))

#tf2 #tf2 hcs #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 medic #tf2 mercs #tf2 headcanons #merc hcs #hcs #my hcs #headcanon #family summer bbq #family dynamics

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forbidden-forest-witch · 2 years ago

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Destiné à Être: A Remus Lupin Story

Chapter 17: Bitten

Hey, everyone! this is technically a repost because Tumblr has a personal vendetta against me lol, so I’m not even sure who was able to see it. I really like this chapter, and this whole story, really. Remus and Brigitte are so special to me and this story has helped me through some really hard times... hug your loved ones, be kind, drink the expensive whiskey, and read fanfic!

(Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, sexual themes. 18+ only!!! Minor do not enter!!!!)

Word Count: 5.7K

...

"The future is uncertain, but the end is always near" Jim Morrison

The fallen leaves on the sidewalk crunch loudly underneath Brigitte's boots with every stride, and the early winter air blows through her fluffy hair. It's her first day back doing work on behalf of the Order. It may not seem the most interesting work, like tracking werewolves or forming relationships with Death Eaters, but distantly following Antonin Dolohov could always lead to something. Constant Vigilance, like Moody always says.

Once the dust settles on her previous mishap, she will insist on more risky assignments. She's not completely useless, and she remembers a little bit from the first time Voldemort fought for power. He used not only dark witches, wizards, and werewolves, but also giants, vampires, and Inferi.

For the time being, her morning started with her waiting for him at dawn, when he stumbled out of a dingy Muggle pub. Now, she follows him down into the Underground, where he meets a man. Brigitte recognizes him from the paperwork she was given, Dirk Gibbon. She gets on the same train, and they get off in three stops. It's near the Ministry of Magic.

Brigitte lingers behind and notices them follow who appears to be Lucius Malfoy down a narrow pedestrian pathway. She runs across the street to get closer and manages to hide behind a phonebooth before the men turn around.

"I told you two-- never talk to me this close to the Ministry", Lucius sneers.

"We were given orders", Dolohov informs him. He leans forward to whisper, meaning Brigitte cannot hear anything. She can see the men bickering back and forth, when Malfoy points his wand at Dolohov's throat.

"Watch it, Malfoy. Don't forget who butchered our last attempt at getting the prophecy", Dolohov warns.

"What even is this damn prophecy? I ain't getting arrested unless I got all the details", Gibbon says. Brigitte listens as closely as she can. It appears that no one what this prophecy entails, but they are still seeking it.

"That is for the Dark Lord to know. He has his suspicions, but he wants to confirm it once and for all", Lucius says. "Now, go on. I'll report later this evening".

Brigitte ducks into the phonebooth to hide as the men pass by. She waits until they are out of ear shot before Disapparating to Diagon Alley, to meet Tonks for another dueling practice. She walks down the busy street, filled with people Holidays. She can hardly believe it's already mid-December. So much has happened since the summer.

Stopping in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies, Brigitte adjusts her knit scarf and stands amongst a group of ogling young girls pointing at the glimmering new broomsticks.

"Check out that new Firebolt!".

"I like the colors in the handle".

"I heard the Holyhead Harpies ordered a set for the team, they're gonna be unstoppable!".

Brigitte chuckles at their excitement as their mother's call for them down the street. She waits about a minute, then her brightly-haired friend appears next to her.

"Hey Dora! Thanks for doing this", Brigitte says hugging her neck. "I'm so happy to be healed and back to work".

"I'm happy I can help! Auror office has meetings all day I'm not allowed in. Damn pricks", Tonks mutters. "C'mon, while we still have good sunlight". She takes Brigitte's hand and Apparates them to a clearing in an evergreen forest.

"Moody used to bring me here when I was preparing for my Auror tests", Tonks says, seeing Brigitte's mesmerized expression. It's sublime, the moss-covered trees with long, gnarled limbs.

"Speaking of Moody!", Brigitte points to the ex-Auror who's just appeared in front of them.

"Hello, you two. See anything today, Moreau?".

"Yes, actually. Lucius Malfoy had a quick chat with Dolohov and Gibbons. I heard them talking about the prophecy".

"And they didn't see you?".

"Of course not".

"Good. Good. With what Snape told us at the last meeting, we’ll keep a close look out for them, and that snake... Alright, I'm gonna watch you two, see if there are any improvements". Moody sits back on a tree stump and leans on his walking stick.

"No dangerous spells, but no holding back. Sound good?", Tonks asks, rolling her jacket sleeves up and retrieving her wand from her back pocket. Brigitte nods her head and stands up straight.

"I'll bomb you with flowers, Love. I'm going to practice without my wand too".

"Element of surprise, I like it".

Tonks fires a harmless hex at Brigitte, commencing the faux battle. Both are surprised by their own quick reflexes, complementing one another's natural instincts as their spells come faster and faster.

The girls move in sync: when Tonks steps forward with her left foot, Brigitte steps back with her right. They both get in some shots. Tonks hits Brigitte with jelly-leg jinxes, and she throws back giant balls of moss and powdered snow.

"Ugh, gross!", Tonks winces as she spits out a clump of dirt. She steps forward to continue their practice, but Brigitte snaps her finger and raises a small root and trips her friend. The French witch is able to multitask without her wand, using her special magical abilities to 'attack' Tonks from multiple angles. Just as she regains her balance, a vine from a nearby tree snatches the wand from her hand and throws it to Brigitte.

"I think I win", she sings victoriously.

"Don't get cocky. Tonks, remember your footing. I don't know how many times I've told ya that", Moody sighs.

"About a hundred. But what if I don't need my feet? I could turn into a dragon... at least I think? Never tried a dragon before". Tonks thoughtfully scratches her chin.

"I see your dragon and raise you a polar bear!", Brigitte cackles. "Shit ... better master my elemental magic before I even think about that, huh? I've never used my Animagus that way".

"We'll work on that once you've perfected your elemental abilities. I have things to do now, you two stay safe. Constant Vigilance!". Moody Disapparates, leaving the two witches in the forest.

"I'd still love to your Animagus sometime", Tonks says. Brigitte looks at her, biting her lip but eventually giving in.

"Remus hasn't even seen it yet ... but oh, what the hell. I really miss her". Brigitte steps back and rolls her shoulders to loosen the muscles. Then, she lunges forward and her body elongates, growing a thick coat of fur as her body grows five times its normal size and her beautiful face morphs into the head of a ferocious bear.

"Holy cricket", Tonks gasps. Brigitte lifts her head and lets out a deafening howl. It rattles off her jowls and trees. The sound is deep and hollow compared to a wolf's. She turns to Tonks and lowers her head in submission.

"Feel good?". She watches Brigitte gallop around the clearing a few times before transforming back to her petite form.

"Oh! How I've missed doing that! I usually only let her out at home, too risky to do it just anywhere. I'm glad I did this", Brigitte sighs contently.

"Me too! You're amazing! Fucking gorgeous and terrifying if I were against you in battle".

"Not gonna happen, Dora. I think I'll stick to scaring people with my fury", Brigitte says, lifting her hand to show her fingertips on fire. "Seems to work with Gus".

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

First thing the next morning, Brigitte goes to St Mungos to visit the newest werewolf attack victim that Healer Le fay wrote her about. She has been concerned about the man's safety and those around him, for the man is hostile and almost violent to anyone trying to approach him.

"It'd be a shame for me to mangle that pretty face of yours, little girl. Just leave me alone!", the bandaged man growls from the hospital bed. It has not yet been two weeks since he was bitten, but the wound on his shoulder still bleeds steadily. Brigitte glances over his paperwork: Alexander Roth, 29 years old, suspected of being targeted by Fenrir Greyback. His physical description is similar to Darren, the first man she met with, which could mean it's the beginning of a pattern.

Both are young, fit wizards who don't have deep ties in the Ministry. Someone who could disappear and no one would really notice. Easy targets.

"We both know you'd be hexed before your head even lifted the pillow if that was your intention, Alex ... I'm not here to offer empty words of affirmation, I know you've had enough of that. I can help it you let me ... Do any family or friends know you're here? The healer says you've had no visitors?", she asks him.

He grunts but slowly turns towards her, "No family... girlfriend tried to visit ... I wouldn't see her. How can I let her see me like this?".

Brigitte's shoulders droop with disappointment. "I definitely don't recommend shutting her out. If she wants to support you, welcome her. It's not easy to do this alone, Alex, and I'm sure she's worried sick about you", she says softly.

He looks at her indifferently and silently. "Well", Brigitte continues softly, "I'm here to offer any kind of assistance you need. If you have trouble with employment or a place to live-", he turns his back to her and pulls up the sheets aggressively, "...I'm here. Take care of yourself...", she says comfortingly and leaves her contact information on his bedside table.

She walks up to the healer's counter on her way out, "Let me know if he gets worse. He mentioned a girlfriend, encourage him to let her visit. I'll try to be back soon...", she quietly tells Le Fay as to not draw attention. What they are doing technically is not illegal, but the Ministry most likely would not approve of the hospital contacting her about a werewolf attack.

The graying healer gives her a warm smile, "Sure thing, dear...you take care of yourself".

As she leaves St Mungos, her mind wanders to Remus... 'he was only four, an innocent and happy little boy. He must have been terrified. How does a child even understand that happening to them?' Then she can't help but think about her brother and father. 'Beau was six, he remembers it vividly. He wasn't worried about himself though, but about papa who he shielded him from most of the attack. Oh papa. 26 full moons since I've hugged him...' In 12 Grimmauld Place, she sits on her bedroom floor and lights a fire in the small fireplace. Brigitte goes through her mail. There's the usual update from the French Non-profit, and Brigitte is so proud of the strides the continue to make; but she's even more excited to see a letter from Francesca. My Britt, my sister, my confidant, I hope you're feeling better and had an amazing time on your date. I want all the dirty details! I've heard you're coming back for New Years (yes, I asked your Ma), so now I get to invite you to the Midnight party I'm hosting! I've moved into a new flat on the north end of Place Cachée closer to Maison Capenoir (where I also just got a promotion!). It's Masquerade theme so dress up, and invite Auguste and Fleur for me. Ps. My address is 27 Rue Richer, apt. 9F ... Xx, Cess - 'Masquerade? Hell yeeeeeeeees!'. Brigitte waves her fists excitedly, thinking about being in Paris with Remus. Hearing Sirius yell at Kreacher on the stairs outside her bedroom is a grim reminder that he is stuck in this hellhole. He has his good days and bad. No matter how much fun they have, it cannot negate the fact that he's missing out on life in the outside world.

Brigitte places the letter in her sketchbook to keep safe the address. Then she sits on the bed, opens her stationary kit and pulls out a peacock feather and parchment.

She dips the quill in ink and takes a deep breath, "You've thought about this. It's a solid plan... he'll like it... he won't say no. Its risky but brilliant. The kind of plans he likes". In her best cursive, Brigitte writes the header of the letter,

'Dear Headmaster Dumbledore' ...

Brigitte spends a half hour writing out her secret proposal to the Hogwarts Headmaster as eloquently as she can. Once she's read over the letter a dozen of times, she attaches it to a small package containing an Eiffel Tower snow globe, tosses it in the fire with floo powder and shouts, "Professor Dumblydore, Hogwarts!".

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Remus come home that night after a long day of with Kingsley and Emmeline Vance. He takes his cloak off and shakes the snow flurries from his mousy-colored hair. The heavenly aromas waft up his nose as he quietly strolls past Mrs. Black, and when he slips through the doorway he sees Brigitte dancing to French jazz music and waving around ingredients with her wand. She drops everything when they lock eyes and runs into Remus' arms.

"Lunaire!", she gasps and wraps her legs around his hips, eagerly kissing him. She holds him tight, still upset about her St Mungos visit with Alex but thrilled about their Paris trip. Remus basks in the embrace, inhaling the scent in Brigitte's hair as if it is a superior alternative to oxygen.

"Well hello to you, Darling. I could get used to this kind of welcome", he chuckles with their foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling.

"Sirius has been holed up with Buckbeak today, so it's just us. Thought I'd make you dinner", she says. He puts her down so she can tend to the stove. But he stays close, wrapping his arms around her waist and watching her cook skirt steak.

"Thank you so much ... Y'know we don't expect you to cook us dinner because you're a woman".

She sighs blissfully and leans back into him, "That's sweet of you, but if the options are you, Sirius, or Kreacher, I really don't have a choice ... Why don't you make a drink and have a seat? Dinner'll be ready soon". Brigitte turns and kisses Remus' cheek.

"Yes Ma'am".

Brigitte finishes making street style tacos, and Remus watches in awe as she uses her magic to chop the fresh veggies mid-air.

"Did your mum teach you this... or dad?", he asks. She guides the food to the dinner table and mumbles 'aguamenti' at their empty drink glasses.

"Maman. She's an amazing cook, Papa has always brought her home international cookbooks. You'll see! There's always a big feast on New Years Eve. My Maman thinks the day dictates the next 365 days, so it's always a celebration", she rambles, "... sorry I'm doing it again. I'm just really excited to see everyone- And to shop on the Place Cachée! Ahh... the fact that you'll be there too, Remus ...", she gleams at him besottedly.

"I know how much your family means to you, I'm honored you want me there... plus I was never going to miss out on being your New Years kiss", he says. Brigitte leans in and grins against his lips.

The nerves in Remus' stomach twist violently at the thought of meeting her family. He's excited to be with her, but he never knows how people will react to him... what will they think when they see me? Their young, beautiful daughter with the world at her feet bringing home the old, unemployed werewolf?.

He tries to suppress those anxious thoughts and keep his focus on the moment. "I'd like to make you dinner sometime. I'm no French culinary artist, but...", Remus trails off.

Brigitte playfully scoffs and smacks his chest, "You could make me a cheese sandwich and I'd love it, Lunaire. Actually, yes! Just give me cheese and bread and I'll be the happiest girl in the world!", she giggles, unceremoniously shoving the taco into her mouth.

"Hmm, if only cheese were an acceptable gift for a new girlfriend", Remus jokes, using his napkin to clean the corner of Brigitte's mouth.

She nods energetically. "Speaking of... please don't worry about getting me anything for the Holiday. I seriously don't need anything. We have more important things to worry about", she tells him.

"Darling, no. That's not negotiable". He looks at her like that's obvious.

"If you insist... I love Le Brouère cheese and a simple baguette", she winks at him, "but honestly Remus, as long as I'm with you I couldn't want or need anything more". At that moment, Remus swears his heart skipped a beat and he looks at Brigitte with a smile so overjoyed it feels unfamiliar to his facial muscles.

'If her family is half as kind as she is, maybe it won't be a complete disaster...'.

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

Twenty-four hours later, after another day of no news (besides the newspaper discrediting Dumbledore while praising Umbridge) Sirius cleans up the kitchen for the Order meeting while Brigitte keeps him company at the table. Her notebook lay in her lap.

"Too busy drawing Moony's cute ickle face to help me clean?", Sirius groans as he uses his wand to put the dishes away. "Just because you can't get Kreacher to clean doesn't mean I'm your new house elf", Brigitte sticks her tongue at him then turns back to sketchbook where she is actually writing to her mother.

"I mean... you do have impressive cooking and cleaning magic, plus those abnormally big blue eyes...", he looks at her impatiently.

"Watch it Black, I may just accidentally break your only house rule", she looks up at him menacingly. He protectively runs his fingers through his dark locks as he remembers Gus telling the horror story of losing his hair to his sister's flames. Then he putters to the bar, pours a drink, and slouches in the chair across from Brigitte.

"Wanna play a game of chess while we wait?", he asks.

She huffs amusedly, "After what happened last time? You're still in time out".

"I told you, I didn't throw the board. My hand slipped", he says waving her off.

She rolls her eyes and reads over her note once more:

'Maman, I hope you have a nice Christmas with Beau, we'll see you the 30th! You'll be happy to know I'm bringing Remus. I can tell he's nervous about meeting everyone, so go easy on him. I don't want to surprise you-- he has Lycanthropy. Give everyone a hug from me. - your Britt Ps. You'll be getting a letter from the headmaster of Hogwarts. Please read it thoroughly. Love you!

She turns to the large stone fire place warming the kitchen, grabs a small handful of floo powder, and sends off her letter, "Celeste Moreau, Strasbourg France".

Sirius peeks up from The Daily Prophet, "Its already the 18th. Can't we do some decorating before the Holiday is over? We can save the tree and do that with Harry!".

"That's a great idea, Padfoot! Remus has a few days off, I'll get out the holiday vinyls and we can get into festive spirit at last!".

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

An hour later, the meeting has started, but Remus is nowhere to be seen. The empty seat next to Brigitte makes her stomach burn with anxiety. Tonks squeezes her hand while Dumbledore addresses the packed room, explaining how Dolores Umbridge's position as High Inquisitor is gradually stripping away his duties as Headmaster.

"... She has Fudge's full support. I suspect the school to be under their jurisdiction by the end of the year", he explains. "That is why I have not left school grounds until now; I plan to spend most of my time there keeping an eye on her until I am inevitably forced out".

"Then what?! The kids are there to fend for themselves?!", Sirius barks.

"I do not underestimate those children. They're not wasting their time playing wizards chess. They have followed through with their secret meetings, practicing defensive skills", the headmaster explains.

"It will only get them in more trouble!", Molly whimpers. "Dear, it's alright, please", Arthur whispers to his wife.

"We will have Severus keeping an eye on things when I'm not there, and Mundungus is staying in Hogsmeade", Dumbledore adds, earning a childish grunt from Sirius. "Severus, if you will".

Snape stands and gives a monotonous update on Death Eaters: Malfoy has gathered illicit heirlooms to rid of, there's increased efforts to recruit dark wizards and halfbreeds, and Voldemort has an undisclosed plan to once again try to retrieve the prophecy... then he's interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open.

"Pardon...", Remus whispers as he sheepishly looks around the room. He spots Brigitte- a relieved smile lighting her face when she sees him- and he makes a beeline for her.

"As I was saying, I've yet to see the snake leave his side. Be on the look out for her... ", Snape drones on. His eyes stay on Remus as he takes a seat and gives Brigitte a tender kiss. His lip curls at the way they stare at each other, ignoring his update.

He sits down to allow for Emmeline Vance and Kingsley to take the floor, closing the meeting as they tell Dumbledore what their countryside spies have witnessed lately, which is nothing more than general confusion over what to believe. Dumbledore has never misguided people, but it's scary to acknowledge that the Ministry might be lying to save face.

"Thank you ... If no one else has any updates I believe this meeting is adjourned", Dumbledore says cheerfully. Most Order members promptly leave, but Dumbledore glides over to the adoring couple.

"Good evening, you two. Remus, I hope all is well? I'm sure Ms Moreau will be able to update you on what you missed", he says while peeping over his crescent glasses knowingly.

"Yes, just a delayed errand. I'm sorry I was late", Remus answers quickly.

"And how are you Brigitte? Leg healing properly, I hope?", Dumbledore asks sincerely.

"Yes, good as new! I hope I can join more missions again. Maybe at the Department of Mysteries", she says eagerly. Dumbledore nods his head calmly.

"Soon, my dear. If I may be candid with you, the ordeal gave Alastor Moody quite a scare. He knows what it's like to lose a leg to dark magic", Dumbledore tells them softly.

Brigitte's face contracts with sympathy, "Oh no, poor Moody. I've never for one second blamed him".

Dumbledore slowly raises his hand. "Alastor will be fine. Accidents happen here, that's the reality. For now, I wanted to talk frankly about the letter you sent". Brigitte's face immediately perks up and he continues, "ah, yes. I don't want to say too much, but I will say Ms. Moreau, I think it's brilliant".

"Sir, I was hoping you'd feel that way. Are you saying that we can do it?", she asks hesitantly.

"I am", he reaches into his robes and pulls out the small box she sent to him the day prior. "I've done what you requested, it is all in place. Enjoy your Holidays", Dumbledore winks at her, placing the box in her hand.

"Oh, thank you sir!".

"Now, I must get back to Hogwarts before my absence is noticed", he says before shaking Remus' hand and tenderly patting Brigitte's. "You two take care. I must say, Remus, you're looking very well. Very... happy". Dumbledore turns on his heel and glides out the room.

"Eh, you look alright, I guess", Brigitte teases while giving him a look over.

He snorts and wraps his arm around her waist. "So what was all that about?", Remus asks slowly, eyeing the box in her grip.

"You'll find out soon enough, Lunaire. For now it's top secret!", she squeals and boops his nose.

Most of the crowd has cleared out, leaving the couple, Sirius, Tonks, and Bill.

"You two staying for dinner? I'm not sure what that'd be but I can whip something up!", Brigitte offers. "Or make the guys get us food".

Bill shakes his head, the long red hair and fang earring whipping back and forth, "I promised mum I'd have dinner with her tonight while dad has night shift at the Dept. of Mysteries. I need to go pick up Fleur first".

Brigitte raises her eyebrows comically at that idea, "Just the three of you? Hmm, Good luck!".

"I should get going too. Gus should be back at his flat soon. I made a little mess this morning and I need to clean it up before he gets home", Tonks hops off the counter top and pigeon toes her way out the kitchen.

"Bye love, tell that idiot I said 'hey'!", Brigitte yells after the witch with purple and blue hair. She sits on Remus' lap, dropping her head on his shoulder and giving him a coquettish look.

"Well, I'm going to let you two... ogle each other in private... I'll be with Beaky", Sirius drawls at the sickening couple. Remus cups Brigitte's cheeks and gazes longingly into her eyes, studying all the different shades of blue in her irises.

"Rem, why were you late to the meeting? Nothing happened on your mission, right? Like with other werewolves", she asks anxiously.

"Nothing like that darling, just got held up on my way here. I didn't miss anything important did I?".

She shakes her head, her shiny waves bouncing, "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention", she mumbles with a guilty smile on her face.

A low chuckle vibrates through Remus throat. "Oh, darling...". Guilt starts bubbling in his stomach. Remus didn't necessarily lie, but he wasn't exactly 'held up'.

He was at Flourish and Blotts, negotiating the price of a first edition Fifteenth-Century Fiends that was gifted to him for graduation. Remus was at a loss to how he'd afford anything for Brigitte, so he decided to sell the most valuable item he owns. After negotiating a sell price, he walked out of the store with 300 galleons and a pocket sized 'French for Beginners' book.

Brigitte wraps her arms around Remus' neck and plays with his shaggy mane, "Sirius and I want to decorate for the Holidays, have the house all festive when the kids gets here, does tomorrow work for you?".

Remus' face lights up at the idea. Despite the looming threat of Voldemort, this holiday with a girlfriend and his best mate is something to be celebrated.

"Yes, perfect. Are you going to turn the house into a snowy forest?". Her eyes twinkle as she nods excitedly.

"I'm so happy, to spend Christmas with you. My Remus", Brigitte says against her lips. He moans against her, his large hands squeezing her soft hips. They take advantage of being in the empty kitchen. Brigitte bites Remus' lip and wiggles against his groin.

"Hey, Lunaire... I just remembered. I wanted to... erm, show you something in my room", she says mischievously, leaning in to suck his earlobe.

"Hmph, Show me what? How needy you are?", he growls, "so desperate for me to get back here so I can take you upstairs and have my way with you? Hmm?".

Brigitte gasps at the forwardness. He knows exactly what she wants. She heats up at his lustful words and it renders her speechless, all she can do is nod needfully.

"No, tell me. Use your pretty mouth and tell me", he says in a surprisingly gentle tone. He rubs his thumb across her bottom lip, softly grabbing her jaw. Brigitte looks at him with heavy eyes and whimpers,

"I need you, Lunaire... Need your touch... Need to make you feel good". She starts nipping down his neck, feeling him getting hard under her thigh.

She can feel the vibrations of his moan against her lips. Without saying a word Remus stands and hoists Brigitte over his shoulder. She yelps and holds onto his tweed coat tightly as he takes two steps at a time up to her room.

They quickly pass the drawing room where Sirius is nursing a Firewhiskey and watching the roaring fire. The raven-haired housemate slowly turns around on the couch, watching Remus' long legs disappear up the stairs.

"They better remember to use muffilato this time... ", he chuckles to himself. Remus slams the door behind him, throws Brigitte onto the bed, and takes out his wand. He does remember the silencing charm, as well as a protection spell for his girlfriend. He throws the wand onto a chair and stares down at her with a look of burning desire.

"Strip", he orders as he rips off his tie.Remus has quickly shown how he can be domineering and rough while still being her shelter, and Brigitte craves it.

The pent up emotions that have been building since the moment they met have completely stripped them of any inhibitions. Remus for the first time in his life actually feels comfortable in his skin. The shame of his scars slowly fade away every time Brigitte graces them with her pillowy lips. They watch each other intently, faces flushing with heat as they undress. Remus drops his frayed suit to the floor, consuming the sight of Brigitte's dress slinking across her skin as she lifts it above her head. Her bare breasts shiver in the cold air. Remus leans forward, hooks his fingers at the band of her stockings, and yanks them off along with her panties.

"Lunaire... come here", Brigitte mews as she poses her body on the bed to show different angles of her bare self, trying to seduce the werewolf. Though she can see Remus is visibly aching for her, he looks at her with an inquisitive look. "Since when do you tell me what to do?".

"Mmmm, please. Need you", she whimpers and sits up seductively, leaning forward with parted lips. He scoffs, "you need to learn patience. Do you always get your way by begging?", he crosses his arms, ignoring her desires to be touched. "Mmhmm", she nods innocently and sits on her knees. He can't help but throw his head back and let out a little chuckle. Brigitte uses the opportunity to reach forward and takes Remus in her hand. He gasps at her soft touch and holds onto the bed post as he watches her lean forward with her mouth open. It's pure bliss. That is the only way Remus would describe this. He watches Brigitte for a few minutes, until he feels himself begin to lose some control. He backs away to catch his breath. He pulls Brigitte up and presses his lips to hers. Then without warning, Remus pushes her back onto the bed. He grabs her thighs, throws them over his shoulders, and lowers his head. Brigitte whimpers out, the strong tingles shooting out every nerve in her body. She grips the crown of Remus' head as he holds her hips still on the bed. It doesn't take long for her whimpers to become light moans, then desperate cries. Brigitte begs Remus to push her over that edge, but the second before that mind-blowing explosion comes crashing over her, Remus peeks his head up. Brigitte whines and lifts her hips begging for him, but he stands and snaps her legs shut.

"Maybe this will teach you patience", Remus asserts.

Brigitte looks at him dumbfounded, still trying to catch her breath. 'This fucker was in control the whole time...'.

Remus' facial expression softens as he pulls back the covers and gives Brigitte a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"C'mon. Let's get into bed", he says soothingly. She lies there, mouth agape... but this is why Brigitte's fallen so hard for him- he is softhearted. She's never met someone who really cares for her, as she is; and she herself has never cared so much for someone... even if he did just ruthlessly edge her.

"I'm really happy. I cannot imagine spending these Holidays without you..." Remus tells her quietly as he rests his chin on the top of her head. She tightens her embrace around him.

They silently bask in the bliss of being together, taking in each other's comforting scents. She smells like flowers and honey, while he's chocolate and old books. But Brigitte's curiosity cannot keep her silent.

"Remus...?". He gives her an almost inaudible 'hmm'. She suddenly feels anxious, like she may be overstepping.

"I... Well, I've never heard you talk about your family before...", she trails off. It's extremely personal, but she wants to know everything about the man she's falling in love with.

"My mum passed in '81...She worked very hard at keeping me safe and my condition a secret; she always loved me unconditionally. My dad did too, but after she died we weren't in much contact-", he sighs, "we had a big fight and haven't spoken in over ten years", he says with a hint of guilt.

Brigitte gives him a sympathetic kiss. "Oh, Lunaire. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked--".

"No, you're the person I want to talk about this with... It was hard. We had a fight about my disease, so after twenty years I didn't want to make him deal with it anymore. I'm not even sure where he is or if he's alive, to be honest".

"Wouldn't you like to know? With everything going on?", Brigitte asks, rubbing his bare chest soothingly.

"As of now, it'd be safer for him if we weren't close. Right now, I'm happy with you, Sirius, and all our friends. I cannot believe the big Christmas we're going to have. It's been thirteen years since I've spent the holiday with Harry and Pads", Remus assures her, kissing her to comfort himself.

"Thank you for telling me this, Lunaire. I feel so close to you", Brigitte whispers, settling in between his arm and chest. "I'll always be here for you".

"That's all I need".

They fall naturally into a deep kiss, fitting together like puzzle pieces under the sheets ... that is, until their intimate moment is interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door.

Brigitte hides behind Remus as they sit up. "It's just Sirius, I'm sure it's fine", he assures her. He jumps out the bed and cracks the door open, hiding behind the door so Sirius can't see his bare bum.

Brigitte can see part of Sirius' face in the hallway lighting and knows right away it is definitely not fine.

Sirius tries to catch his breath, "I- it's Arthur. He- he's been attacked at the Department of Mysteries..."

♡ ♡

I’m so excited for the upcoming chapters!! Lots of fluff, Weasley kids, and Christmassy things

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the-rogue-mockingjay · 2 years ago

Text

Writer's end-of-year roundup, 2022! 🎉🎆

Despite the myriad hardships of the year for me - losing my old beagle, fighting doctors, a completely stupid amount of grief/loss, migraines and disability oh my! - it's actually been an amazingly productive and inspired year? I'm very proud! I completed the second draft of my first-ever longfic, which needs another round of editing or two before it's ready to be published, and I've discovered I LOVE editing. More than I love writing, actually????? Lots of people talk about the Dreaded Editing but for me, it was vastly easier than writing the first draft was LOL. I also did what I thought I would never do, which is create another Shepard, Morrigan Vesta, and I actually wrote mostly about her during NaNoWriMo this year. I'm finally getting the hang of how to give characters unique voices (or portray a canon character's voice accurately, which is something I used to be extremely hung up on). I can honestly say I've made a lot of progress both as a person and as a writer this year, and I'm finally starting to find my joy in writing again. Very exciting!

Taking a page out of @pikapeppa 's book in how to format this year's data- I love seeing your charts every year!! My own chart ended up being quite a bit messier, but that's probably because of how I tweaked it to fit my fics. I apologize deeply if the image quality gets butchered, I am not wise in the ways of battling Tumblr's nonsense

(HEY GUESS WHO FORGOT A FIC......the one I forgot is Marevera's Dream, which is a Wayfarer post-Ep 1 pre-Ep 2 WIP, and it clocks in at 1,174 words, making my actual total 60,486!!!!!)

*I forgot to note that In this darkness, on my own is a followup to A New and Dark Horizon.

60K........DUDE!!! I haven't written that much since junior high/I got my depression diagnosis in like 2016, so this is. Big!

New things I tried: For starters, I paced myself during NaNo instead of forcing myself to write every day like I did during NaNo 2020. And WOW was that a night-and-day difference! In 2020, I wrote about 20k and burned myself out so bad I couldn't write for another 6-8 months. This year, I wrote about 30k, and only sat down to write about half the days, successfully dodging burnout. I think that's a valuable lesson for me in what works for me, how to balance my desire to write with what I'm actually capable of that day, and how to work with my disability without letting it limit me.

I also wrote in first person for the first time in maaaaaany years, and while it's not as comfy as third person, it wasn't bad, and it was a good way to explore the different strengths of POVs.

And since my laptop had a fatal encounter with a cup of coffee last spring (RIP little buddy), I've gotten very comfy writing on my phone, which I had previously only done for Across the Sea and Part 1 & Part 3 of broken body built anew because I was bored/inspired during a long car ride LOL.

Fic I spent the most time on: Going Over Jordan, easy. I originally wrote it during NaNo 2020, then re-wrote it at some point during 2021 (time is a weird soup so I don't remember). And then I rewrote it AGAIN this year, edited the crap out of it, printed it, and will edit it again sometime in 2023. It's a fic that exists purely because I am at times a spiteful little goblin, and I had Opinions about the MEA main mission Hunting the Archon, i.e. I didn't agree with how Bioware wrote the companions' responses to Ryder's temporary death, and my Ryder is also an anxious neurodivergent wreck like myself, so I wanted to write how that mission would have actually gone with Brynja as Pathfinder. I wanted to highlight the relationships Brynja has with her friends (particularly Jaal), and I also just wanted her take on the mission in general, because it's not the same as what's in-game. I mean....a lot of people die gruesome deaths in that mission and you see the aftermath, you see the gutted and maimed corpses. There's a lot of horror inherent to what Bioware wrote for that mission, but they glossed over it big time. I wanted to fix that.

I'd like to have someone beta read it, but Andromeda is a niche market as it were, and I've never had anyone beta my work before, so that's honestly the biggest reason it's not published yet. It would benefit greatly from beta reading I think, but uh. I don't know how to make that happen. I'm gonna publish the dang thing in 2023 or 2024 at the latest, though, even if it kills me DGKLJDHLG.

Fic I spent the least time on: I can't say for certain, but it's probably the microfics. Those took only a couple hours. Aside from those, not counting WIPs, it'd most likely be Across the Sea, which I wrote on my phone while sitting on the kitchen floor.

Favorite thing I wrote: ALMOST ALL OF THEM. In all seriousness though, there are a few that have a special place in my heart, and the most important one is Across the Sea. I'd been wanting to explore how Marian processes/copes with Thane's death pretty much since the day I created her, but I never got around to putting any of it on paper until the time came for me to say goodbye to my dog, a 17yo beagle named Maggie we adopted in 2019, last February.

It was an absolutely hellish series of events just in those few days alone: I had a sleep study done which gave me the worst migraine of my life, I threw up in a random parking lot, went home and tried to sleep the migraine off, and was woken up a few hours later to my mom sitting on my bed and saying, quietly, "Maggie's dying". My migraine quit mattering at that point. I sat with her on the couch for hours, held her paw, petted her softly. My parents took turns sitting with her in the living room overnight.

Ultimately, she was just suffering so much for so long we had to take her to the vet. It was a weekend, so it was going to be hours before they opened. Maggie got up and stumbled to the kitchen, and she laid down in front of the door to the garage, and I just...sat with her. There was nothing I could do to help or save her, so I kept her company in her last hours. In the midst of moving and the uncertainty surrounding my health, my new disabilities, traumatizing doctor appointment after traumatizing doctor appointment, I was having to say goodbye to the greatest light and joy of my life a mere 6 months after we lost the dog we've had since I was 3 years old (a shih tzu named Reggie, who wore the pride of his breed like a royal mantle and never stopped carrying himself like a king, even when he didn't recognize us anymore).

Maybe it's silly to compare the loss of a dog to the loss of a lover, but...things just clicked in my brain. I wrote Across the Sea for and about Thane and Marian, yes, but it was for me and my beagle, too, in equal measure. Thane was terminally ill but even so he died quite unexpectedly (THANKS KAI LENG), and the same was true of Maggie. So it was....maybe it's a silly thought, but it was a vent piece. I understood my grief through the lens of Marian's, since hers was so much easier to tackle than my own in its huge overwhelming weight. I'm a very private person with big emotions, and my grief was - and is - a very personal thing. Something I needed to keep close to my chest, hidden, at the time. To write Marian's grief as I waited with Maggie for the inevitable, it was like I had a companion, a friend sitting with me in that grief. I understood Marian much better then.

So perhaps mechanically speaking, Across the Sea isn't my best piece (I'm honestly not certain where it ranks quality-wise), but it is....the writing equivalent of those pendants that carry your loved one's ashes, for me. And it's done quite well on AO3. Knowing that people have enjoyed this piece that is so precious to me and comes from a place of such deep sorrow...there is no greater honor I could ask for, I think. It's a fitting tribute to a character and franchise I love, that's gotten me through many hard times, and to the beagle that made the horrors of life worth living.

(Aside from that, my other favorites are broken body built anew (first trilogy piece), Going Over Jordan (first longfic), In this darkness on my own, Farewell to Arms, Des profondeurs dans la nuit, and the ME3 early game Morrilenko duology Never Enough/In the shadow of your heart.)

Favorite thing I read: Imma be real with you chief, I have.....not read much. Not as far as books go, anyway. But I've sure read some amazing fic and interactive fiction games!!

I reread a bunch of stuff, partly to examine the technical strengths of my fave writers and stories, and partly because hey, they're my favorite stories!! Off the top of my head, the pieces I reread were: Flotsam, Ain't Sentimental, and Loose Ends by @asaara-writes; Sorrow and Resistance by @/myrini; and while I didn't get the chance to reread/finish these like I'd hoped, A Lesson in Drowning by @theherocomplex, Where the Winds of Fortune Take Me and Lovers in a Dangerous Time by pikapeppa are bookmarked both on AO3 and in my brain for the same reasons as the shorter pieces

everything @coldshrugs has written in the past year or two. Both as a writer and as a reader, shorter form fiction is more accessible to my migraine-addled brain (I love reading long stuff but it's often migraine trigger T^T) and Azia's a MASTER of short fiction???? So much punch packed into such concise words!! Incredible clarity and emotional depth!!!! There are many writers on this site that I admire and respect greatly, and Azia is one of them

My favorite IF this year is 100% Wayfarer (@/idrellegames). I haven't been able to focus on it as much as I'd have liked, but the COMPLEXITY the DEPTH. I'm in awe of it and Idrelle. The scope of the project is so massive and the intrigue and depth of the story and characters is incredible to see, Idrelle is a one-person-army of a writer. It'd be easy to think that Wayfarer is made by a team, but nope! It's all the genius and dedication of Idrelle. Having followed Wayfarer from the beginning, the only words I can describe it is awe-inspiring

My writing goals are going in a separate post because this is about 19 times longer than I meant it to be DHFLJKDSLKJHG. If you've read this far, thank you so much!!!!!!! I know it probably got a little more personal and a little bit sadder than you were expecting, so thanks for sticking with me- and I don't blame you an ounce if you skim-read this or skipped some sections. It's a lot of words!

Happy New Year, everyone!! You guys make Tumblr great, and without the people I've met through this site, I would've missed out on not only tons of awesome media, but all y'all super cool folks and your blorbos!!! Keep on creating, everybody. Your stories, your art, your headcanons and metas and dumb jokes, you bring light into my life, and the lives of others. I want you to know that your works bring comfort and happiness to the life of one lost and drifting young woman...and I want to thank you for it, sincerely. I know for a fact I'm not the only person whose life is made better by your presence. The fact that we haven't met in-person doesn't lessen your impact by an ounce.

#rogue writes #writing roundup #tw animal death #yeah a lot of my titles are just random lyrics but hey i'm a very musical person lol

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e8luhs · 1 year ago

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some questions...3, 10, 12, 16, 23

3.) any recurring images/elements?

the main one i can think of is circles/orbs to be honest. heres my collection of circles and whatnot

praying that tumblr doesnt demolish the quality of this image entirely btw

10.) if your story is titled, why did you choose that title?

"refactoring" is just a term for rehashing already existing code without changing how it actually works externally. it doesnt really have like, a connection to the story i guess outside of the fact that it has to do with coding. i just liked how it sounded more than anything

12.) okay be honest. pick a favorite oc from this ocverse.

answered this one already but like (waves my #1 lea lucas fan flag again)

16.) imagine the entire story takes place but in the meantime the characters all also have tumblr. what kind of (terrible) tumblr posts would happen?

mavis: throughout the entire story is just posting shit like "bro im literally just a guy. i am literally just a little guy and im fucking sitting here." because shes like the most wanted dead or alive guy in the world basically. catriona / silas / lea: i honestly cant imagine that theyd post anything Personal because theyre all in the public eye. maybe if they had sectioned off private accounts they would.... like silas' leahead stan account swag kirabo: posting pictures of cool places and findings and friends and animals for sure. a little bit bad at social media but i think the way that they are bad at social media is very charming and cute. like (shaky picture of deer taken with their phone) look at this thang type stuff. trinity: also bad at social media but its not in a cutesy way like kirabos is. i literally have no idea what they would post because they have complexes vladimir: he would NOT use tumblr he would use reddit. but if he did use tumblr i assume hed just use it as a place for archiving his journal entries digitally. funny answer though? he would post that stupid like Moving in silence big things coming bullshit. like shut the fuck up man

23.) describe how everyones character gets butchered once in the public eye?

answered here :)

#ask #OKAY FINALLY DONE WITH ALL THE MESSAGES I GOT FOR THIS SORRY GUYS #also thank you for asking btw :)

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holocephal1 · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 1,917 times in 2022

That's 1,317 more posts than 2021!

61 posts created (3%)

1,856 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@argentavis

@fandoms-of-a-random-existence

@tgirlgerard

@goths-eat-electricity

@milfcarmilla

I tagged 1,634 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#<3... - 223 posts

#ghosts - 216 posts

#tlt - 61 posts

#mcr - 53 posts

#<3 - 42 posts

#yeah - 37 posts

#sandman - 35 posts

#im so. tlt - 34 posts

#ocean - 32 posts

#starwar - 32 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#which is made of copper and rust. you are from a war-ridden planet and the cause of your first death was a starship crash. you sing and pla

My Top Posts in 2022:

overthinking kitty's "she hit me!" "she can't!" "well, she wanted to!" interaction about lucy again.

i think its a really good reflection of her experiences and how she's learned to handle things tbh, because its something she says to try and make the others listen to how she's feeling. and i figure a lot of her life was not being listened to about her feelings or experiences, so she resorts to last-ditch exaggerations to try and get her point heard.

102 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

im obsessed with just how much of the captain is about theatrics. because when it comes down to it, he's not... put together. like at all. the flashback we see is meant to be his Element, (and you can put this down to gay panic, or the Everything Else if you like), but he sucks at it, a bit. more than a bit, a lot. he's completely flustered, and doing completely arbitrary things, and its very clear that Havers is the competent one in that situation, especially because he gives functional orders and then is like 'go on listen to your CO.' and its something that comes through with Cap all the time. as much as he's continually reasserting his rank, he's so clearly not in charge. at all. and he's continually trying to prove the Cool and Powerful Leadership part of his identity to the other ghosts- eg. him interrupting in The Thomas Thorne Affair to basically just be like 'look how cool and functional id be if this were me'. and in insisting that he'd wear his uniform even if given the chance to do literally anything else. being The Captain is so integral to the false existence he puts up, and i'd guess he probably used it in life to hide other aspects of his reality from both himself and others, to prevent any sort of questioning. how dare they suspect their CO, and how could he possibly be 'that kind of person' when he's a well respected, high ranking officer?

157 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

thinking about the fact julian died with a wedding ring on and pat didnt..

pls ignore the photo quality in favour of the amout of sad this makes me

195 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

totally unfounded ghosts theory

SO . i was thinking about this image:

a little too hard. and about people saying the thing in the captain's hand might be a tissue. and the idea of cap dying at his medal ceremony has been bouncing around my brain for a while, but i THOUGHT, what if the captain died at a funeral/memorial service? it would explain why he's in uniform, and at button house (given the people stationed there) despite the war likely being over and all by the time of his death. i cannot justify this at all, because my brain isnt working enough to research it without just getting current war memorial events, but! its an idea.

222 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i feel like we as a fandom don't talk about pat referring to himself as 'the big bad butcher man' enough

270 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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videodrxme · 2 months ago

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fuck this putting my ultimate dirk fic here. Meta, 4th wall break, degradation.

Honestly, this asshole is pretty fucking pathetic.

I could go on about this but instead I will graciously choose to preface this with a warning that there is a non-zero, if not completely unavoidable, chance I will be abso-fuckin'-lutely butchered in this little rant. For all intents and purposes, consider me kind of like a Dirk-shaped hand-puppet Jack is using to 'jack' himself off here in a roundabout manner, or don't. Maybe the idea of a random author on Cohost, or I guess Hentai foundry in this case or TUMBLR NOW, channelling me like some kind of paranormal phenomenon gets you off, and who am I to deny you that?

Not that I can blame him, or you, for finding me attractive. I mean, look at me. I'm virtually a paragon of masculinity when people depict me artistically. Did you *see* my Pesterquest sprites? I was fuckin' toned, not to mention my sweet tattoo. Christ, he's salivating over that. Fuckin' weirdo. He's actually going back and adding to this because he saw my Pesterquest sprite again and is staring and wanted you to know.

Here's where it gets tricky. See, my erudition is far beyond this random smut peddler on the internet, so he has to look shit up in the Thesaurus, and use me to gleefully inform you of his cluelessness when it comes to literature. This is a new low for anyone, honestly. Using a fictional man to drag yourself through the mud, really? The worst part is that as he's writing me saying that, he's leaking through his underwear like a faucet. Honestly, if I was real, and I said near anything to this dude, he would trip all over himself like a clumsy high heel model in a tripwire factory. But I'm not, so this asshole has to make do with jacking off to the idea of me domming him using the narrative.

There isn't even anything in canon suggesting I might like guys like him, but he still gushes over me like a malfunctioning river dam. He even thinks about, get this, my *splinters* and *alternate selves* fucking him in different and novel ways. I would be flattered if it wasn't so disturbing. Really now, Jack, you pick the most scumbaggy versions of me to imagine fucking, probably because you know that they might not find your sexual proclivities as abhorrent.

That's not even his real name. He chose another alias specifically to run this blog, or I guess porn account now, so he can jack off in peace. He knows exactly how much of a psychosexual deviant he is and continues to do it anyway, because he just can't fucking control himself, can he? It's why he gets someone like me to do it for him. What do I mean, you ask? Someone he sees as superordinate. Better than him, for those of you who can't read. He thinks my leaderly qualities and faux-stoicism make me better than him, and I'd be inclined to disagree if I wasn't also getting a sick kick out of it.

Yes, I am getting something out of this, if it wasn't already painfully obvious. I already told you to see me as the handpuppet he's using to masochistically smack himself upside the ass, and it's like that for a reason. I'm not real. Well, as not-real as I can get while still being Dirk, that is. He likes to think that in-character Dirk might get a kick out of this, which is something of a stretch, but I'll entertain it. Who knows, maybe the canon Ultimate Dirk really would humiliate and dominate him, and it would be entirely in-character the whole time, no flanderization needed? That would be a fucking sight to see. Imagine that happening for the rest of the time you read this whole thing. And humiliating you, too.

Why are you still here, anyways? Do you get off on fictional characters degrading their authors in a glorious display of self-vitriol and allusions to moistened genitals, or are you waiting for me to take you down a notch like the sexually depraved individual you are? I don't know who's more loathesome, you by the virtue of putting up with this fascimile of a character you know and love so you can rub one out, or him for making me do this whole masturbatory rant in the first place. You're welcome for the amazing self-coitus, by the way.

You realize this was made on the seat of this dude's pants at 2 am, right? I'm unsurprised that you would spend this much damn time on this, knowing how sexual misfits are, but still disappointed. That's right, I'm disappointed in YOU, the one reading this, and I bet you're getting off on it. No need to lie to yourself. If you got this far, you take a frankly unnatural joy in degradation and being told off on your sexual habits. You're like the fuckin' Frankenstein's Monster of sex, and you definitely enjoyed me saying that to you, or rather the author saying that to you using my deliciously tang-coated text. Well, not orange anymore, this site doesn't let me color my text orange, but it's what fucking ever Oh, look, Tumblr lets me color my text orange. Great job..

Speaking of the author, we should run down a list of his lecherous fantasies involving yours truly. What else are you even here for, more of me insulting you? You definitely clicked through a read more to see this, you fucking horndog. I bet you're humping your bed, or chair, or other lounging apparatus you're using. Let's take it from the top with a new paragraph, shall we?

By the way, this bit was made after he slept. It's 9 am for him now. That's right, he worked on this shitty little sexual diatribe for multiple days, or hours, at the very least. Whichever idea gets you off more, really. But enough suspense.

Let's see. We can do this from least to most bizarre. Only three, though, I got places to be and this terrible rant is taking up too much of everyone's time.

First, normal PIV sex. About a 3/10. Not novel or new in any way but I can see how it's an unmatched classic. A little breeding here, a little impreg there, definitely pretty vanilla.

For the next strangest sexual fantasy about me this dude's cooked up, we have me flexing my muscles and various assets at him. 6/10. Seriously, muscular dudes are hot, but come on, there's only so large those muscles can get before looking grotesque in new and horrible ways. Yes, it gets weird, and yes, it gets kind of gross. It will only get worse from here, so please do buckle your seat-belts and keep your hands inside the ride at all times, and by the ride I mean your pants.

The third time's the charm, but this one isn't even charming. Seriously, an older version of me in an age gap relationship? This is so played out that it isn't even funny. In fact, the way Jack goes about it is honestly mentally concerning. Who knows, maybe that's your thing, but I'm uncomfortable elaborating on it.

Looking back on everything written here, this dude makes me look super full of myself and obnoxious in ways that I'm not. Thank whatever whims he's having that he's letting me tack on that this would all be out of character and at least 90% made up for some kind of awful BDSM routine. Later, you filthy degenerates.

#jackisnormal.txt

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