#there’s no fucking way i can write a fic in time for christmas but trust there WILL be lastochka fics

[osaemu]

GETO SUGURU: ❛❛ SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE KISSIN' ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ your boyfriend can't be home for christmas? fine then, you'll just spend it with his best friend! but be prepared, 'cause your boyfriend's gonna be mad when he gets home. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. modern!au. best friend!gojo. degradation, spanking, p –> v, you guys are loud and you get walked in on! gojo gets slutshamed.. a lot. and he's very annoying!! also there's lots of borderline crack in this fic, have fun with that! 3.6k words, not proofread.

author's note: it's been a hottt minute since i've written for geto and i lowk forgot how to write him.. anyways.

“what do you mean, you’re not coming home for christmas?” you huff, hopping on your bed and lying on your stomach. 

the man on the other end of the phone sighs exasperatedly, and you can almost see suguru massage his temples when he replies, “i have work, baby. i’m sorry, but i really can’t miss this chance to—”

it’s the night before christmas eve, and you just learned that suguru won’t be home in time to spend christmas with you—obviously, you were upset, because you’d been looking forward to spending the holidays with him. but to your dismay, holiday season’s always the busiest time of the year for businessmen like suguru.

“fine,” you groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you do so, and you mutter something about life not being fair as suguru lists all the reasons he can’t be home by christmas morning.

“i have a big meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, and there’s no way i’ll be back by the morning after,” suguru explains tiredly. you can hear the sleepiness in his voice, but the selfish part of you wants to keep him on the phone longer—it’s only seven, and you could easily spend the next couple hours convincing him to come home sooner.

“but suguru—” you try, even though you know nothing’ll convince him at this point. 

“i’m sorry, honey,” he interrupts. after a moment, suguru’s voice softens and he continues, “i just can’t make it home by christmas. we can spend the day after together, though—i think i’ll be free for the rest of the week.”

you roll off the bed, stuffing one hand in the pocket of your hoodie—suguru’s hoodie—as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a mug of hot chocolate. the other hand still holds your phone to your ear, and you swallow back the rest of the protests you have to suguru’s absence.

“anyways, i gotta go,” suguru murmurs, obviously suppressing a yawn. “love you, baby. n’ i’m sorry, but i really can’t do anything about it.” 

he hangs up before you can reply.

almost instantly, you dial satoru’s number—he’s probably the only other person you and suguru both trust enough to confide in about your problems, and like always, satoru picks up right away.

“hey, satoru?”

“heyyy, i already heard about it from suguru,” satoru replies, and there’s some suspicious squelching sounds in the background. are those grunts, too?

“uh, what are you doing?” you ask tentatively, hopping on the counter and sitting with your back pressed against the wall. the oddly wet sounds continue for a couple more seconds, and then they stop. “satoru?”

“shit, sorry, i was in the middle of something,” he replies with a breathless laugh. “yeah, i’m done now. wanna see?” your phone lights up with an invitation to facetime, and you hit the ‘x’ immediately.

“no, i don’t want to see whatever the fuck you’re doing,” you grumble, ignoring his laughter. “you’re disgusting, i’ll call you ba—”

“no, i’m free, i’m free!” satoru interrupts, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “suguru won’t be back for christmas, right?” 

you pause and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. “yeah, he won’t be.”

“and you want a way to get him to come back sooner, right?”

“yep. you have anything in mind?” you ask, half-hoping that satoru’ll be able to come up with some genius plan to get your boyfriend to fly back here to make it in time for christmas. but if you’re being honest, you know that there are very few things that could convince suguru to drop his supposedly important meeting and come straight home.

and somehow, satoru devises a plan that makes you certain he will.

————

the next morning, you receive a text from suguru asking you to facetime—under normal circumstances, you’d just ask him to call instead since you’re at a cafe, but not today. today, you want him to see you and your mischievous little plan, so you eagerly accept.

“hey, sweetheart,” suguru says the second the call connects. his dark hair is pulled back into its usual half-down half-up style, and he props up his phone on something to use his reflection to adjust his tie. “how are y— wait, is that satoru’s jacket?”

you smile innocently and turn the phone to show satoru, who’s sitting just across from you at the table by the window. after satoru’s taken his time to wave and blow a kiss to suguru (who rolls his eyes in response), you turn the phone back and say, “oh, i just got a little cold. it’s pretty chilly down here!”

suguru frowns, brown eyes narrowing at your cheeky expression. “very funny. why didn’t you just bring your own jacket? or one of mine?”

oh, this is the question you’ve been waiting for. you shrug off satoru’s rather comfortable jacket and show suguru the tight, long-sleeved shirt you’re wearing underneath it. the fabric hugs your skin in a way that shows off all your curves, and even better, it’s a light shade of blue that’s somewhere in between the color of satoru’s eyes and hair. 

“i did! but then it just got so cold and satoru was nice enough to offer me his jacket,” you say nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way suguru’s jaw tightens. you flutter your eyelashes innocently and smile at suguru, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes focus on your outfit.

“you jealous?” satoru chimes in, snatching the phone out of your hand and posing in front of it, admiring himself in the camera.

“no,” suguru mutters, but it wouldn’t take a genius to tell that he’s just lying through his teeth. satoru grins in response, making a peace sign with his hand and winking.

“good, ‘cause i’m gonna be hangin’ out with her all day long!” satoru cooes, blowing suguru another kiss before you swipe your phone back out of his hand.

“is he joking?” suguru grumbles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. you shrug in response, not buying his cool and collected persona. you know suguru better than most, and the subtle way his shoulders tensed the second he saw you in satoru’s jacket gave it all away.

“nope,” you reply, soft lips tugging themselves into a little smile. “we might spend christmas together too, ‘cause you won’t be here. but i guess i don’t really mind anymore—satoru’s good company!”

satoru covers his mouth to hide his laughter at your comment, giving you a thumbs-up when suguru doesn’t reply. your boyfriend says something about already being late and having to go, and this time, you’re the one who hangs up.

“oh, we definitely got him,” you grin, smugly lifting your mug of hot cocoa and clinking it with satoru’s in a celebratory expression. satoru hums in agreement before he takes a sip of his cocoa, face growing pink at the sudden warmth.

“so, how long d’you think it’ll be until suguru texts you that he’s on his way?” satoru asks, leaning back in his chair and blowing on his cup to cool off the smoking-hot liquid.

“hopefully soon.”

“i’m betting on… three hours.”

three hours later, you don’t get a single text from suguru. four hours later, nothing. on the fifth hour, you finally receive a message from him, but it’s just a “how are you?”

“was that not enough?” you whine, half-looking at your phone as you walk through the mall with satoru. “how else can i convince sugu to come back by tomorrow?”

satoru shrugs, pulling the red lollipop he got from a toy shop’s cashier out of his mouth. “i mean, we tried jealousy, so how ‘bout we go the other route?”

you tilt your head curiously, waiting for satoru to elaborate. 

“y’know, why don’t ya tempt him in… other ways?” satoru wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your face grows warm despite the chilly air around you.

“satoru…” you pause, face unreadable as you stop walking and turn to him. satoru holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for your verdict.

“that’s a really good idea.”

————

and that’s how you ended up in a clothing store, sifting through hundreds of dresses in search of one that’d be alluring enough to draw suguru back home.

“what color does he like on you?” satoru asks, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he’s receiving from the other people in the store as he examines handfuls of dresses with interest. “red? black? white?”

you shrug, running your fingers over a form-fitting dress the color of suguru’s eyes. “i dunno, do you think he’d like this?”

satoru turns, takes one look at the dress, and instantly grabs it. “c’mon, let’s get you into a dressing room.”

the second you and satoru get there, the dressing room attendant gives you both a weird look. her eyes settle on satoru, and she asks, “weren’t you just here a week ago with another girl?”

satoru’s face goes redder than you’ve ever seen it. “uh, yeah, i was. oh, this one’s my best friend’s girlfriend, not mine—”

you shove him aside and hand the dress to the attendant, smiling bashfully. “just trying on this one, thanks.”

the attendant eyes satoru suspiciously and then nods. “okay, but he doesn’t get to go inside. last time, we got a noise complaint from the other customers.”

if you thought satoru’s face was red before, now it’s a shade redder than you knew was possible. in fact, you’re almost considering sending him to the hospital to get checked on as you close the dressing room door behind you and try the dress on.

it’s a little tight, but that’s expected given the skin-hugging fabric. after a couple minutes, you turn and admire yourself in the mirror—the dress, thankfully, fits perfectly. the fabric accentuates your features in the best way possible, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from staring in the mirror any longer.

“how do i look?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room and doing a twirl for satoru. his jaw drops, and he nods instantly. 

“yeah, this is the one,” satoru affirms, taking out his phone. “want me to be the one to send the pics to suguru? that way we can still make him jealous!”

you give him a thumbs-up and blow a kiss at the camera, trusting satoru to take a flattering picture before you head back into the room to change out. on your way out of the store, you buy the dress at the counter—knowing suguru, he wouldn’t reply to satoru’s text, but you just knew he was dying to see you in that in person.

————

later that night, well after satoru’s gone back to his house and you’re relaxing in your own, suguru texts you again.

sugu: can we call?

you grin and roll over onto your back, nestling yourself deeper into your pillows before you dial his number. it only rings once before he picks up, and he instantly asks if satoru’s still with you.

“nah, he went home,” you say offhandedly, toying with the corner of your sheets. “did you like my dress?” you ask coyly, enjoying the way suguru pauses for a long second before replying.

“yeah, it looked good on you.”

“that’s it?”

“it really brought out your eyes.”

you bite your tongue to suppress a groan, instead opting to bury your face in a pillow instead. you had just spent the past twenty-four hours running around in circles, doing everything possible to get suguru to come back, and that’s all you get? really?

“anyways,” suguru continues, and you hear a soft rustling sound in the background—if you had to guess, he’s probably in bed right now. “how was your day, baby?”

“good,” you respond briskly, a soft scowl appearing on your face. suguru, being as observant as he is, picks up on the subtle change in your tone, but he doesn’t say anything. “satoru and i had a really good day. how was yours?”

suguru pauses before answering. “i missed you.”

“then come home, sugu,” you plead, even though you know that there’s no way he’ll be back in time. but it’s worth a try, right?

“you know i can’t,” suguru murmurs, exhaling softly. “no way can i get a flight back this late and make it back by tomorrow morning. i—”

“then get a sleigh!” you huff indignantly, unable to resist smiling when you hear suguru laugh. “please, sugu? christmas won’t be christmas without you.”

“just spend it with satoru,” suguru mutters under his breath, and that’s when you realize that your efforts haven’t entirely been in vain. he’s obviously sour that you spent the whole day with his best friend instead of him, and a small spark of hope starts to fester in your heart. 

“maybe i will,” you reply coyly, and you can hear your own smile in your voice—and you’re sure that suguru can hear it too. “anyways, i’m a little tired. good night, baby.”

“night.”

————

the next day, you host a party in your otherwise empty house—after all, it’s christmas, and it’d be rather depressing for you to spend it alone. so you invite satoru, satoru’s friends, and their friends, and so on. word gets around fast, and people show up in droves.

which is why you don’t notice when suguru himself slips in through the back door.

you’re giggling with satoru and his stoic friend kento when they both stop laughing, and you look up at them, confused. “what is it?” you ask, sipping the sweet liquid in your glass with a smile.

“suguru?” satoru asks, lips tugging themselves into a wide smile. “guess you didn’t wanna spend christmas alone, yeah?”

you turn around, half-expecting satoru to be joking. but to your surprise, your dark-haired boyfriend stands in front of you, smiling dryly. you stare at him for a solid two seconds, certain that you’re hallucinating. “sugu? but i thought—”

“thought you could mess around with my best friend?” suguru muses, arching one of his eyebrows. his suit’s a little wrinkled, and his hair’s more disheveled than normal, but somehow, he seems more alert than ever. suguru’s amber eyes go from yours to satoru’s wide blue ones, and satoru shrinks away from him with a nervous smile.

“i’m gonna go,” kento says offhandedly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving you, satoru, and suguru alone in the living room. 

“hey, bro, it was her idea!” satoru says instantly, raising his hands as if he’s a burglar in front of the police. you turn to him in disbelief, scoffing indignantly at his pitiful attempt to get out of trouble.

“no, it was your idea!” you insist, jabbing your finger at satoru. he gasps dramatically and pretends to faint, to which you roll your eyes good-naturedly. you turn back to suguru, rounding your eyes in an attempt to gain his favor. “i swear, sugu, this was all satoru’s idea!”

“you liar,” satoru grumbles, crossing his arms and huffing childishly. you turn and glare at him, and coupled with suguru’s unimpressed look, it’s enough to scare satoru off. 

and now it’s just you and suguru, alone in your mint-scented living room. christmas pop plays in the background from another room, and maybe it’s just the dim lighting but you swear you can see suguru’s face go a shade redder than before.

“hey,” you mumble, averting your eyes.

“hey,” suguru replies. he smiles, and just like that, all his features soften. “don’t you want to know how i got here so fast?” he drawls, reaching out and brushing something off your shoulder. his fingers trail down from your shoulder to your collarbone, which is all the more prominent thanks to the dress you’re wearing. incidentally, it’s the same dress you had sent suguru a picture of yesterday—maybe that’s why he can’t take his eyes off you.

“yeah, how did you get here so fast?” you ask curiously, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace your figure down to your waist. suguru’s eyes go from your dress to your face, and he grins.

“well, i had to leave right before my meeting started and bribe some passengers with a shit-ton of money for their seats,” suguru starts, taking you by the hand and leading you to your shared room. “and believe me, it was a lot of money. and most people still said no, ‘cause they want to be with their families for the holidays.”

he makes a face as he pushes open the door, and stops in his tracks. your face grows warm as you realize that you had set up your room for him too—it’s illuminated with soft candlelight, the linen sheets are changed, and you—oh, you look perfect in suguru’s eyes. it takes a great deal of his willpower to stop himself from fucking you right there and then.

“oh, yeah, it was a lot of money,” suguru continues, smiling down at you coyly. “between the deal i just fucked up and the ridiculous amount of bribes i had to make, i think you owe me.”

suguru makes his way over to your bed and sits, spreading his legs and showing off his growing erection. you grin, following him and sitting in his lap. “did you miss me, sugu?”

“damn right i did.”

and barely a minute or two later, he’s got you face-down ass-up in the sheets, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your increasing moans. “shh, wouldn’t want our guests to hear ya,” suguru whispers, breath hot against the side of your face.

you squirm underneath him, mind hazy from the feeling of his dick buried in you for the first time in.. how long? does it matter? “s-sugu, please fuck me,” you mumble, pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t bothered doing anything to you besides use you as his personal cockwarmer.

in the short time he’s been inside you, suguru’s barely moved—and fuck, he enjoys watching you squirm around and beg him to do more than just.. nothing.

“sugu, plea—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass, relishing the lewd whine that slips out of your lips in reply. “fuck, you thought y’could get me back here by fuckin’ with my best friend?” suguru cooes, shifting his hips. 

“we didn’t—”

“yeah, no shit, baby,” suguru interrupts dryly. “otherwise this’d be a lot worse for you—and for him.”

suguru’s dark eyes flit over to where the dress you bought lies, discarded somewhere in the corner of your room. he grins and uses his hand to turn your head, gesturing at the fabric. “and i bet he was the one who gave you the idea to do whatever the fuck that was,” suguru drawls, clicking his tongue. “tell me, whose idea was it to have him send me that pic? yours, or his?”

when you don’t reply, suguru sighs dramatically and grabs your hair, pulling your head up enough for him to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this’ll be a lot easier for you if you just answer—the—question,” suguru breathes, punctuating each word with another slap to your ass.

“it wasn’t m-mine!” you cry, looking up at suguru with shiny, rounded doe eyes. “i just wanted to—”

suguru cuts you off by pulling out of your drenched cunt just enough to allow him enough space to go back in, and his thrust is harsh and hits all the right places inside of you. your walls clench around him, and shit, suguru realizes that he missed fucking you like this more than anything else in the world.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he hisses, shifting his hips again to allow himself more space to move. “did ya not touch yourself at all while i was gone?”

“n-no,” you stutter, swallowing another pornographic sound from escaping your lips. “i waited for you, sugu,” you gasp, feeling him hit spots you haven’t felt throb in a painfully long time. and fuck, you’re so out of practice that affer just a few thrusts, you’re mewling all over his cock and whining about how you’re close to cumming.

your vision gets speckled with spots of white as thoughts of suguru take up every corner of your mind, even as he teases you for getting so close so fast. but it’s not your fault you’re about to cum faster than you’ve ever done—you’ve tried fucking yourself with your fingers on times when suguru was out for work, but he’s spoiled you with his dick more than you can imagine.

and that’s why you cum all over his cock in what has to be a record-breaking time, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you mumble indecipherable words.

“aw, look at you,” suguru murmurs, stroking your hair as you tremble underneath him. even though it’s unbearably cold outside, it feels scorching hot in here—but maybe that’s because of both of your heaving chests in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you mumble hazily, and suguru chuckles in response.

“it’s alright, baby,” he responds lightly. “y’know i like fucking your bratty cunt dumb every once in a while, heh.”

you two lie there, basking in each other’s presence for a little while longer before the bedroom door creaks open. and to your horror, satoru stands there, seemingly bored by the whole scene.

“can you two keep it down?” satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “we’re trying to have a karaoke competition, but you guys keep going agh—”

suguru hurls a pillow at satoru, cutting off his mocking moan. “you’re next, asshole,” suguru grumbles, getting off of you and covering you with the sheets.

“you’re gonna fuck me next? wow, what happened to hi, hel— oww, okay, i’m going, i’m going!”

[tthoroughfare]

happiest season // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the gang's all back together for christmas! no matter how hectic life gets, you always make time for your end of year outing.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader ft. jesse and dina

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw. ellie fucking sucks at ice skating

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.1k

this fic is a part two to this blurb! i loved writing the dynamic so much i had to continue it... there will be more coming trust. *dutch voice* i have a plan. also i don't even like xmas that much so i have no idea where this came from. just felt right. i hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing festive period with your loved ones <3

gift bag in hand, you wander into the restaurant. there’s cheesy christmas music drifting through the speakers, a tree in the corner, lights everywhere; you immediately spot jesse and dina, the latter waving at you as soon as you enter.

“hey!” she greets when you walk up, standing to put her arms around you. “how are you?”

“good, good,” you reply, one-handedly returning her embrace before leaning down to give jesse a quick hug. “you?”

“good. i mean, life is fucking killing me in general, but y’know.” she sits back down, watching as you place your belongings to the side and shuffle your chair in. “where’s ellie?”

you shrug. “no idea, i haven’t talked to her today. probably isn’t even on her way yet.”

“most likely,” jesse adds, smirking.

“has anyone texted her?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

the couple share a glance, wordlessly confirming before looking back at you.

“uh… no,” jesse states.

“dude.”

you pull your phone out, knowing all too well what ellie’s like. even if she knows she has to be somewhere, she’ll stay up way too late; and if no-one gets in touch with her in the morning, she won’t be up and ready for it.

selecting her contact and calling her, you press your phone to your ear. she surprisingly answers after two rings, clearly walking down the street, wind whipping past the microphone.

“hello?”

“just checking you’re awake.”

“uh, okay, sorry, i’m literally… like, ‘round the corner.”

“hurry up, ‘cause the manager says if all members of the party aren’t here in five minutes we’re getting kicked out,” you deadpan, casting a smirk at your friends.

“very funny.”

you automatically turn your head when you hear the door open, both through your phone and behind you. ellie bustles through it, phone between her ear and shoulder, waving with her free hand before ending the call. she heads over to the table, taking the empty seat beside you. dina looks on, giving her an exaggerated offended stare.

“uh, the fuck, do i not get a hug?”

ellie rolls her eyes with a small smile, gesturing her over. “come here.”

dina happily totters over, leaning over ellie’s chair and wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. ellie shifts her hand, giving her forearm a few pats before she pulls away.

“happy?”

“yup.” dina sits back down, budging her chair in before clapping her hands together lightly. “okay. gifts before or after food?”

ellie scoffs lightly at her impatience. “i literally just got here.”

“you want everyone to say before, 'cause you want yours now,” jesse comments fondly, leaning an elbow on the table.

“… correct. but i really don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do.”

“i don’t mind. we can do it now,” you add.

dina’s eyes flit between each of you mischievously. “can we do it now?”

“let’s do it now,” you confirm with a chuckle, leaning forward and pointing your hand at dina. “you first — your idea.”

she grins, reaching to pick up her gift bag and holding it out to ellie. “i got you.”

ellie takes it from her, smirking lightly as she takes out the tissue paper on top. her expression changes when she sees the first item, eyebrows scrunching and letting out a drawn-out scoff. “bro, what the fuck?”

dina laughs knowingly.

“what is it?” jesse questions, chuckling lightly. she just holds it up in reply, pivoting it back and forth so you can all see, avoiding eye contact with you. it’s a hot pink bullet vibrator.

“y’know… ‘cause you’re gay and stuff,” dina jovially explains, holding her hands up in gesture. ellie just stares at her, blinking slowly and holding back a laugh. “ladies’ll love it.”

“what ladies?” jesse remarks quietly, earning himself a light-hearted tap from ellie’s shoe under the table.

“anyway…” ellie gingerly sets the box down on the table, digging back through the bag. “thank you for that, dina.”

the rest of the gifts are sweet; she’d gotten her a dinosaur mug, her favorite chips, and a band tee. she holds them up in turn for you all to look at, placing everything back in when she’s done and thanking dina.

dina nods in acknowledgement, smiling warmly. you all look at ellie expectantly, who settles into her chair holding a clueless expression on her face.

“it’s your turn,” jesse reminds her after a moment of silence.

“oh, shit, yeah.” she sits back up, picking up her gift bag from the floor and passing it over to you, dragging the action out in amplified suspense. you grin, taking it from her gently. “thank you.”

dipping your hand in, you take out the first item. it’s your favorite scent of candle, one you always had on in your room. you’d never mentioned anything about it to her, but ellie was like that. always quietly noticing.

there’s another, bigger item in there, too. you pull it out the wrong way, turning it around to get a look; it’s a framed painting of your favorite musician.

“oh my god, this is awesome!” you say, looking at ellie. “where did you get this?”

“uh, i didn’t…” she trails off softly, looking down at her hands for a moment. “i made it.”

your eyebrows raise, smile widening. “no fucking way. you painted this?”

there’s a small, coy smile on her face as she nods. “… you like it?”

“you serious? i love it, this is like the coolest thing ever.” you look back at the painting, studying the fine details; it looks like it took her a good while. “thank you so much.”

“wait, i wanna see!” dina chimes in, reaching over the table for it.

jesse leans in as you pass it over, peering over her shoulder. “woah… this is good, ellie. why the hell weren’t you my secret santa?”

ellie tuts playfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “you’d have gotten coal.”

the rest of the gift exchange goes ahead, temporarily halted by the waiter coming to take your orders. you got dina; dina got jesse. 

the secret santa was a silly tradition you’d upheld over the years. one that became more precious when you left high school, and you and ellie got into a different college as the other two. you still saw each other wherever possible, and had a group chat that was active daily; still, it was hard being away from your closest childhood friends. you found yourself missing just being able to text dina to come pick you up, getting drive-thru and talking shit in her car until the early hours.

every year when you were all home for christmas, you made a point of meeting up. while normally all busy with your own plans, no matter what, you’d always clear your schedule for at least one day.

after the meal, dina announces that she’s booked ice skating — to which ellie lets out a groan.

“why?” she complains, drawing the word out. “you know i’m horrible at it.”

“yeah, why do you think i made the reservation?” dina counters teasingly. ellie just gives her a look.

when you get down there, in the middle of lacing up your skates, ellie flops down next to you to put hers on and lets out a dramatic sigh.

you cast her a sideways glance, smirking fondly. “oh, shut up, it’ll be fun.”

“you don’t understand, i fucking suck.”

“get a penguin,” you respond, chuckling as you finish up, leaning back to wait for her.

she lets out a laugh. “no… embarrassing.”

“plenty of people have them.” you gesture out to the rink.

“yeah, they’re all ten and under.”

rolling your eyes, you train your gaze on dina already out there. she whizzes past fairly gracefully, dragging jesse along. “hold dina’s hand, she’s pretty good.”

“no, she goes too fast. i’d end up eating shit.”

“i think that’s gonna happen either way.”

she sighs lightly, pulling a dejected face as she finishes tying her laces. going to stand, you offer a hand to haul her up, keeping hold of it as you both dodder over to the edge of the rink.

you get on first, a little unsteady; you’re passable at skating, at best. ellie hesitantly places a first foot onto the ice, free hand clinging onto the side as she ungracefully enters fully. one of the skates almost goes out from under her and catapults her flying into the barrier; it nearly takes you out, too, sending you off balance.

failing to hold back from laughing at her, you give her hand a squeeze. “ellie, oh my god.”

“i fuckin’ told you!”

“look, you’ll be fine, just hold onto the side and i’ll, like… drag you.”

“real elegant.”

you raise an eyebrow, jutting your neck slightly forward in gesture. “rather fend for yourself?”

she pauses, sheepishly looking to the left, then back at you. “… no.”

“come on, then.”

it goes about how you expected, moving along at a snail’s pace, ellie practically white-knuckling the barrier. by the time you’ve gotten to the other side of the rink, dina and jesse have passed you twice; on the first, teasingly cackling at you, on the second, calling out, ‘losers’.

you pat ellie’s arm in jest, giggling at the exclamation. “don’t listen to them, they’re mean.”

not long after, you actually come up behind two people slower than you; a young boy and a grandma, trailing around the edge of the rink hand-in-hand. you deal with it for a few minutes, but the thought of being stuck behind them the whole time proves too irritating.

“we’re gonna pass these people,” you mutter to ellie, leaning in. “you’re gonna have to let go, and—“

she cuts you off, shaking her head vehemently. “no, no, no. dude, i can’t.”

“you gotta. literally just let go for like, two seconds, hold onto me while we go around. it’s chill.”

you were wrong — it was not, in fact, chill. essentially the second ellie lets go of the barrier, she panics and wobbles. that, in turn, makes her panic even more, and she completely loses her footing. calling out your name in comical distress, she goes down in a heap, automatically grasping onto the back of your jacket and bringing you down with her.

you crack up after the shock of hitting frigid, wet ice wears off. it seeps through your sleeves and jeans, goosebumps forming. “ellie, what the fuck?”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs along, sitting up and flicking the moisture off of her hands. “i’m so sorry.”

you manage to get over to the side and hoist yourself up. whilst you’re in the process of attempting to get ellie on her feet without being yanked back down, jesse and dina fly past again, cheering dramatically at the sight.

ellie turns to flip them off; the motion destabilizes her, and she topples and lands flat on her ass all over again.

later, when you’ve all hugged and parted ways, you’re in your childhood bedroom winding down when you receive a series of texts from her.

you head over to the corner of your room where you’d dropped your stuff on entry, taking your gifts out of the bag and rechecking. camouflaged against the interior, flat against the bottom, there’s a small envelope addressed to you.

opening it and taking out the folded paper, you can’t hold back from smiling. it’s a letter, decorated with silly stickers.

i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how much i appreciate you :) i am very lucky to have you in my life and i always look forward to spending time with you even if we’re just hanging out in each other’s rooms and rotting. 

i kinda struggle with getting to know people (woah shock) and when i first moved i was so fucking worried i was gonna literally have no friends LOL. but right from the beginning you, jesse and dina made it so easy. don’t tell them this because i'll never hear the end of it, but it was mainly you. you were always going out of your way to talk to me and include me and stuff, and it meant a lot. and at risk of sounding super weird as soon as i saw you, i knew you were going to be an important person to me. 

back in school when we were applying to college, honestly i was scared that you were going to end up going somewhere different to me. like to the point i wouldn’t be able to sleep some nights because i’d just be up thinking about it. anyway, i’m so glad it all worked out. wouldn’t wanna do this shit with anyone else <3

love you always

ellie

heading back over to your bed to grab your phone, you text her again, letter sitting at the side of you.

[siilvan]

OUR GIRLSSSSSSS 😭😭😭

Lastochka's Christmas

This year has brought me many new and dear friends in this fandom, and three of them are the Lastochkas

From left to right:

Myléne 'Petra' Scholten de Ridder, @eenochian

Olga 'Zhar' Samiolova, @nrdmssgs

Some random blonde bitch lmao

Freya 'Mini' MacTavish (standing), @sofasoap

To everyone, Merry Christmas

(in case the Christmas big ass render I'm finishing makes my laptop explode and I can't post it lmao)

[savannahsdeath]

This thought popped in my head and I need it!!!!

(only if you want to!)

Imagine reader and Ellie went out to the mall with there friends and the entireeee day Ellie was just thinking about bending reader over and doing her then and there because she was just looking so good with her little ponytail and skirt and the way she would pick up the cutest little clothes and ask Ellie if she thinks they would look good on her. Then when they get home Ellie just goes absolutely feral and fucks her with no remorse. :(((

I'm literally going feral over this thought

im not a shopping person but this? omg.

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! obv smut, strap (r!receiving)

writers note: i loved the idea sm i literally stopped writing my enemies to lovers fic just to write this one🫣sorry it took me so long to post it, i struggled with choosing what to post first !!

You were going out shopping with your girlfriend and some friends. Ellie isn't really an outgoing person, but when it's about you and shopping, she can't wait to see you in all the cute clothes she knows she will buy you. Of course she'll never admit it but you knew she enjoys it as much as you do.

As you make your way into the store, you can see her eyes light up at the sight of all the different styles of clothes. She takes the lead and starts pulling at all sorts of clothing to bring over for you to try on, eager to see you wearing all her favorite things.

The changing rooms had a lot of space inside, so she entered one with you, sitting down on the little bench. While you were taking your previous clothes off, she intensely stared at her phone. She couldn't stand seeing your bare skin and it would be hard for her to control herself otherwise, but you were clueless.

When you changed into a cute, feminine skirt and top, she finally turned her eyes in your direction. Her gaze was judging but not in a bad way - she looked you up and down before smirking.

"Spin." Ellie simply ordered and you obviously did so. You had no idea she told you to do that because of the way your pink underwear shows when the skirt rolls up in the air at your movement. She cleared her throat and nodded, trying to hide her thoughts. "Yeah, looks good."

You frowned at her lack of enthusiasm, not realizing she's actually boiling inside. You were so oblivious it was actually funny, even your friends knew damn well what was going on.

You tried the rest of the clothes Ellie picked for you, not getting the reaction you'd like to each time, but you couldn't blame her.

Oh, little did you know how much she just wants to bend you over and fuck with her strap, she obviously had on, just in case she won't be able to control herself.

After a few other shops and a whole bag of clothes, you came into one with small changing rooms and made Ellie wait outside. She was standing in front of the curtains, pretending to be unbothered, but the way she impatiently kept asking you 'ready?' every-fucking-second said otherwise.

"Wait, wait, the zipper won't close!" You said, trying to lock a pretty, formal, red dress you knew you'll wear like one time - for Christmas or something.

She rolled her eyes and came in, standing so close behind you, you could feel the bulge in her jeans. She zipped it without struggle, placing her head on your shoulder as she looked at the mirror in front of you both. Her hands were sliding up and down your sides as she kissed your neck.

"You look fucking amazing." She whispered and smiled, seeming almost proud of your appearance.

"Is it worth buying, though?" You asked, turning in all directions to see it from every angle. "It will just collect dust in the closet for the whole year until I decide it's time to..."

She laughed, cutting you off. "Jesus, hush. I can afford it... Oh, and trust me, I'll make you wear it."

You finally fully turned around, cupping Ellie's face in your hands and kissing her for only a few seconds. "You spend too much money on me."

"Are you complaining?" She chuckled with a smug look on her face as you stayed silent. "That's what I thought."

After running around the shops for the whole day, you all met in a restaurant. Ellie was sitting in her usual men-spread position and you placed yourself between her legs, not really caring it may be weird. Her hands rested awfully near the hem of your skirt, wrapped around your waist. Sometimes when you were grinding too much, she'd just tug on it to warn you, so no one would notice your behaviour.

Sometimes, when your little movements didn't stop, she'd whisper something in your ear in almost threatening way, even though you wasn't really teasing her intentionally.

On your way home, she was walking faster than usually. You couldn't even call it walking together, she was just pushing you forward.

You tried to slow down or build a conversation but miserably failed every time.

As soon as she brought you back to your shared apartament, she closed the door and immediately started kissing your neck, slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You quickly understood why she acted so weird before. "Oh, Ellie, so you just wanted that the whole day?" You chuckled as she nuzzled into your skin. "And you kept silent instead of telling me?"

She dropped the bag of clothes as soon as you entered the bedroom, your teasing words clearly pissing her off even more than having to watch you in all those cute little skirts back in the shop.

"What the fuck was the whole dinner scene for?" She asked, frustrated, hurriedly undressing you. "Can't sit still? Seriously?"

You laughed, even though you knew what waits for you isn't so funny.

She wasn't teasing your cunt for too long before filling it with her cock, waiting for the right moment to catch you off-guard. It worked as well as she expected to, you moaned and your eyes quickly turned glossy as your thighs clenched.

She kept going for so long, you didn't bother to hold back your tears anymore. Your hips were sore from the way she held them, knowing she won't be able to hit the right spot if you'll move. Your hair started to stick together from the sweat and tears mixed together, making the pillow uncomfortably wet. Your god-knows-which orgasm approached but you weren't able to say anything about it to Ellie as you lost the ability to speak like a thousand thrusts ago. You couldn't decide whether it's a good or bad feeling. Yes, you loved the feeling of her deep inside you to the point you can actually see her in your stomach. But no, you didn't feel strong enough to keep going. Ellie seemed to notice that.

"If you want to stop, just tell me." She said in the most taunting tone she could.

She knew you're not able to 'just tell her'. She noticed the only thing coming from your mouth are moans, occasionally maybe her name, but really rarely.

She reached to wipe your tears away. "Now, that's just adorable. And a little pathetic. Should I slow down, huh? Should I?"

You nodded, realizing your vision isn't actually black, you were just desperately squeezing your eyes shut like it'd make you feel any better. You looked up at her with your teary eyes, still imploringly moving your head up and down.

"What does that even mean? Just speak up!" She laughed.

Your eyes closed again, as your release came. Your mind went blank, just like everything else - your vision, feeling and other senses.

Did you pass out?

It all came back after a few seconds, when Ellie finally stopped and leaned in to kiss you, what woke you up like Sleeping Beauty.

"Oh, sorry babe. Got carried away. I bet you can't really blame me, though." She winked as she started going down on you again.

"Els- what are you...?" You managed to say, stopping to take a breath after each word.

"Gotta clean you up." She smirked and you could already feel her tongue on your clit.

It felt so sensitive, so new, you cried out and your thighs tensed, but didn't close as Ellie held onto them. She was so strong compared to your weakness now, they didn't move a millimeter.

"I'll be fast, this time." She reassured you, as your body squirmed, hoping to get away.

But oh, how much you actually wanted to stay like that. The sensitiveness made you feel the texture of her tongue so precisely, you hoped to still remember it tomorrow...

[eliotquillon]

ao3 is currently down, so i’m posting this here! here is my christmas gift exchange fic for @the-heaminator, who asked me to write something with house figuring out what’s up with chase. since a lot of that ground gets covered in the show already, most of this is set either pre canon or close to the start of s1. happy holidays, and heam i hope you enjoy!

before the rooster crows

i.

“I need Rowan Chase’s personal number,” House says; Cuddy, sitting placidly at her desk, doesn’t blink twice. “Ideally sometime this year.”

“And I want world peace,” Cuddy deadpans, finally deigning to look at him. Her outfit, much to House’s disappointment, is wholly uninspiring for mockery: high-necked blouse, knee-length pencil skirt, half-inch pumps. She knows how dull he finds the process of interviewing fellowship candidates—truly, the fact that she won’t even consider alleviating his boredom by wearing something risqué is in line with a human rights violation. “As far as I can tell, neither of these things is relevant to your job.”

“Don’t tell me,” House sighs, beleaguered, “the surgeons that did your boob job messed with your brain, too. You don’t think world-famous rheumatologist Rowan Chase is relevant to my job as, I don’t know, a world-famous diagnostician?”

This irritates her: not the boob job comment—although Cuddy does so loathe it whenever he implies her God-given gifts were less than God-given—but the fact that he’s accurately showboating. It’s a card he rarely plays; braggadocio is so boring, after all. But it is, currently, relevant. “You need a consult?” she frowns. “You can’t have a new case, Grainger’s last shift was yesterday.”

“Exactly,” House clicks his tongue. “As you keep reminding me, I have fellows dropping like flies. Did it occur to you that I might be trying to replace them?”

“No, House,” Cuddy sighs, familiar and not without a touch of fondness, “because that would involve you doing as you’re told. This person you’re getting the reference for—didn’t they provide Dr Chase’s contact information already?”

House thinks back to Robert Chase, sitting in his office half an hour ago: young and cocky and eerily reminiscent of a child playing dress-up in their parents’ clothing. Expensive clothes and an expensive haircut: trust-fund kid. Alone in America, fresh off the boat on the other side of the world: running away from something. “Not a fan of rheumatology?” House had asked, a leading question, and the way Chase’s mouth had flattened had been answer enough. “I don’t think they parted on the best terms,” he tells Cuddy now. “I want the inside scoop.”

Cuddy fixes him a stern look through layers of kohl-rimmed lashes. “So you’re looking for a reason not to hire someone,” she deduces—incorrectly, at that, but who is he to ruin her fun. “Now that sounds more like you. Would it kill you to be upfront for once?”

“Pretty sure it’s in the fine print of my contract, yeah,” House nods with mock-solemnity. “Can you get me the number, or do I need to resort to identity theft?”

“I don’t even want to know,” Cuddy mutters. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

*

“Dr House,” Rowan Chase greets, sounding perfectly genial under the foreign Euro-Aussie accent and the hiss-crackle of an international long-distance call. “I’m returning your call. How can I help?”

Great question, House thinks, and one with so many answers. Outright disownment would be effective, though unsurprising. Singing his son’s praises would be the opposite—surprising, but far less interesting. And then, of course, there is the inevitable in-between. The real question isn’t as to what is going on between Rowan Chase and his son: House sees father-son discontentment every time he looks in the fucking mirror. The real question is this: is he going to hire Robert Chase?

“Tell me about Robbie,” House decides. “He a bedwetter?”

Rowan’s breath catches on the line, thousands of miles away and sixteen hours ahead, and House thinks back to Chase’s interview again: he had smiled at all the nurses on his way in, had the look of a man who for whom charm came easy. In House’s office, Chase did not smile once. Why did you become an intensivist? House had asked, scanning Chase’s CV, before that fateful, Not a fan of rheumatology? It’s a question he normally hates asking—too run-of-the-mill, invites too many clichés—but with Chase the curiosity had been real. And the answer had been real, too: Quality of life is subjective. Dying’s a hard line.

Rheumatology, as a rule, is always about management. You can’t get much further from hard lines than that.

“You must mean Robert,” Rowan says now, still pleasant-sounding. “I take it you’re considering him for a job?”

“Considering, shmidering,” House responds airily, rolling the cricket ball in his hands. “He a runaway? Can’t get much further from the Gold Coast than Jersey.”

“I’m very proud of my son,” Rowan recites in flat monotone. “He is a good doctor.” It is something House’s own father might say, so long as House himself were not around to hear it. It is not an answer to the question.

There is a one-year gap on Chase’s resumé, between high school and undergrad. House had not asked about it, because he presumed the answer: gap year, and then an extended anecdote about volunteering in free clinics or finding himself in the Amazon, and neither of those were particularly interesting lines of enquiry. It is not often that House is wrong, but it has been known to happen on occasion. “I’d certainly prefer that to hiring a bad one,” House says sardonically. “I remember you emailed me about an article I had in last year’s edition of JAMA. You know what I do here. Think he’d be a good fit?”

Just say something about him, House thinks. Something concrete. Something specific.

“I think Robert will do well at anything he puts his mind to,” Rowan says mildly. “Is that all, Dr House?”

“That’s enough,” House says, because it is.

ii.

House hires Allison Cameron for the following reasons, and in no particular order: because she is perceptive, because she politely but steadfastly refuses to let Wilson hold the door open for her, because she interned at the Mayo Clinic, and because she is beautiful. Cuddy is, of course, thrilled; Cameron is not just a woman, but a woman of a particular sort—dark-haired and pantsuit-wearing and almost irritatingly diligent, a kind of ghost of Christmas past for Cuddy to pour all her hopes and dreams of glass ceiling breakage into. Wilson, too, is pleased, in spite of the door-holding incident; Cameron is eager to assist in handover whenever one of their patients is transferred to Oncology, and there’s a Kerry ‘04 sticker on her bumper—she’s a bleeding heart just like he is, so they can bleed all over each other, as far as House is concerned. Chase, however—

It isn’t that they don’t get along. Actually, them not getting along wouldn’t be an issue at all; Chase and McKenzie had hated each other, and weaponising that hate had made McKenzie more productive in the last two months of his fellowship than he’d been for the entire two years. But Cameron and Chase appear to like each other just fine; she immediately and unapologetically covers for him when he stumbles in hungover one morning, and he effortlessly includes her in the morning coffee rounds. But still. There’s something…

“She doesn’t bite, you know,” House says, two weeks after Cameron’s first day on the job; she’s absent today, scheduling clash that she’d warned House about at interview—she only moved to New Jersey two months ago and has to close the deal on her new apartment. “Cameron, that is. No need to tiptoe around her like she’s going to rip your throat out. Cuddy, on the other hand…”

“I’m not scared of Cameron,” Chase scoffs, incredulous. Except he sort of is: ever since she showed up he’s been quieter in differentials, less likely to agree to breaking into a patient’s home. “She’s nice.”

His brow furrows on the last word, and House thinks: there it is.

Cameron is nice. Not kind, and not particularly charming, but she is nice: she says please and thank you, and smiles at babies, and always refers to patients by their names even when they’re not in the room. It’s borderline manipulative, in House’s opinion, but it’ll take her far.

He thinks of Rowan Chase: always smiling, in every photograph. Always pleasant. Immunology and rheumatology have historically been closely related fields. The first words out of his mouth when House called him six months ago had been House’s name. Cameron, yesterday, entering a patient’s room: Jasmine, how are you feeling?

House likes to roll his eyes sparingly, for fear of making the action lose its effectiveness, but good God. This really calls for it.

“Your homework for tomorrow is to tell Cameron she’s wrong to her in face in the differential,” House says, “or you’re fired.”

Chase’s face contorts into confusion. “What if she isn’t wrong?”

“In the football game of diagnostics Cameron is a linebacker, not a quarterback,” House says dismissively. “She’s a great team player, but she doesn’t score goals. She’ll be wrong about something. Get over your fear of her already.”

“I’m not scared of her!” Chase insists, and it is almost cute, how completely and utterly false he sounds.

The next day, Cameron suggests myasthenia gravis for a borderline textbook case of Guillain-Barré, and House raises a pointed eyebrow at Chase, who sighs. “Can’t be MG,” he says reluctantly, “the symptoms are too acute. The paralysis is way too rapid-onset.” Chase says all of this to the floor, not to Cameron, but House has a handwave-y relationship towards technicalities; he’ll take it.

Cameron frowns for a second, put-out, then shakes her head and says, “Yeah, you’re right. Her white count’s a little off, too. LP for infection?” She glances between House and Chase for confirmation. Chase shrugs, assignment completed, but the look on his face is pure relief; he was expecting her turn on him, House thinks, and instead Cameron has barely blinked.

“Gold star for Chase,” House says brightly. “Silver star for Cameron. Minus stars for everyone, because it’s Guillain-Barré, you idiots, get her on IVIg and plasmapheresis.”

“I’ll start her on the immunoglobulin,” Cameron volunteers quickly, and before Chase can follow her to go requisition the plasmapheresis machine, House snags his ankle with the end of his cane.

“See,” he says pointedly, “she’s not so scary after all.”

“And I told you I wasn’t scared of her,” Chase protests again, but it rings hollow; still, this time House actually believes it.

iii.

As a rule, Cuddy does not requisition House’s team unless it is a dire emergency—or the festive season. She knows well enough to leave them alone if there’s a case, but otherwise her rules are clear: at least one of House’s fellows must be loaned out to work Christmas Day. He begrudgingly understands her reasoning: the ER is always over-full on Thanksgiving and Christmas, on account of the sheer number of idiot home cooks trying to get creative with carving knives at the same time, and most hospital staff are eager to hoard their PTO to spend the holidays with their families—understaffing is inevitable. And Cuddy knows well enough not to bother trying to rope him into pulling a Christmas shift, so truly, it isn’t really House’s problem.

The day after they discharge Sister Augustine, the show begins. Chase had worked last Christmas almost by default—he’d been the newest fellow on the team then, and McKenzie and Popov had both had young children besides—so in the interest of saving time, House pre-emptively declares him immune from the grand squabble to avoid the Christmas shift. “I need an answer by the end of the day,” he tells Cameron and Foreman, “or I’ll send you both Cuddy’s way.” Besides, Chase and Foreman seem to hate each other enough already; a little friction between Foreman and Cameron will do them all some good. It never pays, House thinks, to let the serfs get too buddy-buddy; he’s pretty sure that’s how the French revolution started. As it stands, House is rather attached to his head. He’d like to keep it that way.

At lunch with Wilson, he lays out his predictions. “See, Cameron’s got puppydog eyes,” he muses, pilfering some of Wilson’s fries, “but dagnabbit, that Foreman kid’s got edge. Too close to call.”

“And at no point did it ever occur to you to lie to Cuddy about having a case,” Wilson raises his eyebrows, “so that all of them could have Christmas off?”

House wags his finger chidingly. “Hey now,” he says, and prods Wilson directly into the pudginess of his shoulder. “Lying is wrong.”

“Right, and making them fight over who gets to spend the holiday with their families isn’t,” Wilson deadpans. “Of course.”

Truly, the outcome is less interesting than the deliberations, and so House is pleased to return to his department and see Cameron and Foreman still sitting at the conference table together, earnestly making their cases as to who should get the day off. “I’m happy to work it next year,” Cameron says, saccharine-sweet with righteous self-sacrifice; she probably means it, too, or at least thinks she does, “but I already booked my flight to Chicago, and the tickets are non-refundable.”

“I understand,” Foreman is saying—unlike Cameron, he definitely doesn’t mean it—“but with my mom’s Alzheimer’s—“

Cameron’s expression is crumpling like wet paper; she’s about two seconds away from conceding. Boring, House thinks, and prepares to head over to his office for a busy afternoon shift of avoiding clinic duty and catching up on General Hospital, except Chase, stood by the coffee machine and staring distantly out of the window, jumps to attention and says, “I’ll do it. I’ll work the Christmas shift.

All three of them—Cameron, Foreman and House—stare at him. “Nice try,” House says, recovering first, “but an empty gesture. You can’t trade immunity idols with another contestant.”

Chase flicks him an irritated look. “This isn’t Survivor,” he says. “Seriously, I don’t mind. You’ve both got good reasons to want it off, and I’ll get double pay for it. It works out.”

Cameron unfreezes second; House figures that Foreman is still reeling from seeing first-hand proof of Chase having a soul. “That’s so kind of you to offer,” she says earnestly, “but you worked Christmas last year—“

Chase cuts her off with a wave. “Exactly, it’s not a bad shift.” (Total lie.) “Seriously, it’s fine. Go see your parents.”

“Thanks,” Foreman says at last; he has the grace to look a touch embarrassed at how begrudging it sounds. “Next time you need a shift covered, we got you.”

Chase shrugs, faux-modest. “Cool,” he says. He locks eyes with House and adds, “So that’s sorted, then.”

Yeah, right.

*

House plots and schemes to get Chase alone for the rest of the week, but is foiled at every turn: first, their new patient starts bleeding out of every orifice (ugh), and then Cuddy forces him at gunpoint (well, clinic duty-point, but House would prefer the gun) to do some of his dictations, and then there’s a SARS scare that has everyone pulling overtime shifts testing and isolating everyone the patient has been in contact with (the patient, as it turns out, does not have SARS). So in a way it’s fitting that he only gets around to it on Christmas Eve: Cameron is gone early, off to catch her fabled pre-booked flight, and Foreman follows suit not an hour later, leaving Chase and House alone in the conference room. Ding dong merrily on high, and all that.

“You’re working tomorrow,” House points, and Chase’s jaw twitches. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Cameron and Foreman,” Chase starts, and House clicks his tongue chidingly.

“If I were being fair, I would’ve told Foreman to work it,” House says, “since he’s the greenest. If I were being equitable, I would’ve told Cameron to work it, since dementia mom trumps non-refundable plane tickets any day. That wasn’t the point. You usually know better than to mess with my games, and yet…”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like spending Christmas alone on the other side of the world,” Chase says flatly. “Sue me.”

“Your mom’s been dead ten years, and I know you’re not exactly crazy about your dad,” House points out. “Can’t be the first time you’ve spent Christmas day on your own.”

“Will be the first time I don’t go to Mass on it, though,” Chase bites back, and then slumps in his chair, like all the wind has gone out of his sails. He looks ashen, ten years older and younger at once; the nun, House thinks grimly, must’ve really done a number on him. “It’s not a sin to miss it if you have patient obligations. If I’m working Christmas Day…”

“Pretty sure there’s something in the fine print that mentions this loophole,” House says, not unkindly. Chase barks out a humourless laugh.

“Yeah,” he says. “But better than no reason at all, right?” Chase scrubs his eyes tiredly. “The way I see it…maybe, in ten years time, things’ll be different, with my faith. Maybe it’s all part of His plan. And I’ll feel bad enough for doubting already. At least if I have an excuse for one day a year…”

“Not how it works,” House tells him. “Catholics don’t actually have a monopoly on guilt. The only person who gets to decide if you feel bad about it is you.”

“I wish that were true,” Chase says wistfully. His beeper goes off; he’s on call tonight and tomorrow. Snow is beginning to fall. “Merry Christmas, House.”

*

Next year, there is no question as to who has to work Christmas. House already has Chase’s name written down.

[veala2]

“ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”

✸ shanks n’ buggy ✸

SYNOPSIS - Being in a relationship with 2 pirate emperors is great, but one aspect that comes with a pirates life is a pirates thirst… no, not that kind, you dog!

CW - gn!reader, obviously there’s some intoxication on both sides, reader is explicitly said to be puking, Buggy is doing some dumb shit, shenanigans ensue.

A/N - I’m back from the dead (work), ready to deliver and slowly (painfully) write my next fic (Christmas themed?)

Probably the first to get black out drunk between the two of you.

He’s been a pirate for most of his life, and drinking was a pleasure he so stereotypically enjoys!

So, when you see his flushed face and goofy smile, you couldn’t help but indulge in his silliness. Letting him play with your hair or kiss you all over your face.

But… when the roles are reversed, he’s 100% on you to make sure nothing happens.

It’s not that he thinks you’ll do something crazy while drunk, no no. Rather, it’s what others would do that scares him.

Pirate bars are filled with crude men swinging their swords around, starting rowdy bar fights which leads to terrified bar owners and civilians to evacuate.

Yes he can take care of you with a simple look- his strong conquers haki coming in play- but he’d rather keep the chance of you safe as high as possible.

“Baby… baby, I’m fine, let me gooo…”

You whines fall on deaf ears, as Shanks adjusts you in his arms once again to make sure your head wouldn’t strain. He chuckles as he makes his way down the wooden steps out of Makino’s Bar, the pounding sound of laughter and drunk men filling his ears.

“I’ll let you go once we’re at the port. There’s no way I’m gonna let you throw up on me again.” He laughs, making you clip your tongue and rub your eyes.

“I didn’t even throw up on you!” You retorted. Which brought another chuckle out of him.

He can remember that scene like it was five minutes ago. Well, maybe because it was five minutes ago. He might be a little drunk himself.

Brushing off the warnings of having too many shots, you took your 21st and started to feel nauseous. Before he could drag you away before you hurled up yesterday’s breakfast. Which happened before he could even get out a word. Leaving him disgusted, but even more worried.

“Sweetheart, trust me, I’m not taking that risk again.” He says, planting an endearing kiss swiftly on the top of your forehead, pulling away at the smell of vomit, Making his nose scrunch up.

Shanks sat you down on the pier of Foosha Village. Rubbing soothing circles on your back, letting you take your course. The night sky shined when it hit the slow waves of the sea, a sky littered with stars. A calm, serene night he loved. Especially with you cuddling into his side.

“Are you feeling better, baby?” He asked, a decimal over a whisper. You nod, groaning into his shoulder.

“Good. Let’s get you home and clean up. And maybe apologise to Makino tomorrow morning if she catches us. Other than that, we can always outrun her fury.”

You let out a weak giggle, despite you still feeling not so great. He holds you in a tight grip, sighing happily and looking up to the sky. Allowing himself to indulge in the beauty of the night sky and the beauty that sits right next to him.

“Remind me to bring a bucket next time.” He jokes, landing him a swift punch to the arm and a goofy smile on his face.

Drinking with him has two outcomes:

Either you’re having good times! A couple of laughs, maybe making some great memories that overlap with some of the more confusing ones of drinking with him.

Or… You’re doing the most batshit crazy thing you’ve ever done in your life.

WITH HIM JUST STANDING THERE.

HELLO!?

When I tell you drunk Buggy can take over the world if he so pleases, I mean it

That man has no inhabitions, no thoughts, just a pure drive to do whatever the FUCK he wants for the next 24 hours.

You wonder how such a cowardly clown can become so brave by just a couple of shots.

And honestly, you can be the same way too. It’s not hard to get caught up in all the excitement and thrill of doing shots with a pirate group and almost ending up with a broken limb.

But MAN-

It’s a really mind boggling thing… Like, you could write a psychology paper on it.

“BUGGY, DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!”

“Huh!?”

Your shouts echo the inside of his towering circus top. There your boyfriend was, drunk off his mind due to some of the finest whiskey found in the Grandline (which he happily took), and placing his left leg inside the brightly human- cannonball. He looks back at you, confused but then displaying a goofy smile.

“Aw, c’mon, baby! It’ll be so much fun, just keep watching!”

The older pirate doesn’t stop himself from doing what he wants, and fully places himself inside the cannon, wriggling around as to get comfy. One of his lackies cackles as he reaches for a match, striking it upwards and starting the fire. Your heart only beats louder and faster at the sight of the small flame.

Of course it didn’t occur to you, that the moment that Buggy the Clown asked you to be his partner, you would have to be his temporary mother when he was shit faced on most Tuesday nights.

But, it’s not too hard to keep him in place most of the time. All he wants are some private cuddling, maybe some kisses and words of affirmation. And don’t worry, when the roles are reversed he’ll do anything to help you, too.

Unfortunately today, he decides to act like a crazed toddler.

Too bad he isn’t, it would be easier to wrangle him up.

“Buggy, baby, love of my life,” You start, slowly inching closer towards the red- faced man as he stared at you with lidded eyes and curiosity. “I really need you to step out of that cannon before you blow to infinity and beyond.”

Then there was silence.

And then there was laughter. A drunken one, slurred and almost high.

“I’ll be fine, I’m Buggy the genius- fuckin’- jester! hit it!”

It was too late, the match lit the tiny rope at the end, as it quickly rises towards where the gunpowder lies.

You plug your ears and close your eyes, not wanting to even look or hear the maniac jester shoot up into the circus top’s top, rip past the fabric and blast off again.

Oh yes… again.

[snzysimper]

Merry Christmas All!!

I’ve wanted to write a Radio/dust fic for a while but never had any good ideas. Thankfully some anon hate given to @hehkshew was just the creative spark I needed!!

Merry Christmas friend. Together we can keep Radio/dust from dying!!

Haters gonna hate

1400 words

| I am allowed to write what I want and would appreciate you keeping whatever rude comments you have to yourself |

Angel Dust and Alastor. Not two names you often hear in the same sentence together. At least, not in a positive way. Most of the time the two are seen going at it with each other. Angel makes some sort of sexual comment and Alastor says something smart back. Angel always has to have the last word which leads to it dragging on for quite some time.

This of course is in the presence of others. Behind closed doors things are much less…hostile. Their relationship is a bit complicated. They are dating but are more of each other's “boyfrienemys”. In the end there aren't any hard feelings.

Not everyone is quite so fond of their “special” friendship. Charlie was ecstatic to hear that the two were getting along. Vaggie on the other hand, while supportive, was mildly annoyed that two of her least favorite people in the hotel could now team up to drive her insane. Husk was indifferent, Nifty didn’t really care and Sir Pentious…well, he was dead. But that’s not important. This isn’t about him.

“The fuck do ya want Al?” Angel is met by his antlered friend outside of the porn studio. The deer flashes his usual smile. “I was sent by our lovely princess to come and retrieve you.. Is that such a problem?”

Angel rolls his eyes. “I don't need a personal escort just ‘ta come back from work.” Nonetheless, the spider follows behind his partner.

On the walk back, the two make casual conversation. The two almost seem to be enjoying each other's company. “Don’t touch me.” Alastor glares at his companion. Angel Dust playfully pokes his cheek. “Aww, don’t be like that Al.”

“Why can’t you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Oh, trust me. People pay the big bucks for me to put my hands all over ‘em.”

“Repulsive.”

Angel makes a kissy face. “C’mon baby, lighten up.” Alastor growls. “I suggest you remove your hand if you wish to keep it.” The spider proceeds to ruffle the other’s hair. “Be honest, y’know you’d never do that ta lil ol me.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I care about you,” he says in hardly a whisper. Angel mocks the deers radio voice. “You’ve heard it here first folks, the Radio Demon has a heart after all!!”

Alastor wouldn’t be caught dead saying the ‘l-o-v-e’ word, let alone in the presence of others. “Shut up.” Perhaps they aren’t both enjoying each other's company after all.

The clouds turn dark and cover the sky. A light drizzle becomes a downpour within a matter of seconds. “Ugh, shit.” Angel turns to notice that his “personal chauffeur” is nowhere to be found. He stands in the rain briefly, looking around in every direction. “Al?” He soon finds him under an overhang. That cheeky bastard. “Oh, yeah. Don’t bother takin’ me with ‘ya.” The spider hurries over to the deer.

“Thanks asshole.” The deer laughs. “You’re welcome my dear.” Angel groans. “I fuckin’ hate you.” The deer sustained minimal damage from the rain, meanwhile Angel is drenched. He does his best to shake some of the excess water off of his fur. “Watch it,” Alastor puts his arm up to shield himself from the flying water droplets.

It doesn’t take long before other sinners join them underneath the overhang, seeking shelter. “It appears we may be stuck here for a bit.” Alastor looks up at the dark, cloudy sky.

Angel can’t help but endlessly complain. “I fuckin’ hate this. I’m cold, wet and exhausted. I worked all damn day. I just wanna crash in my room and not wake up till tomorrow.” As he keeps complaining, Alastor gives the occasional “Mhm” to assure his partner that he is listening and offering moral support.

“Perhaps if you didn’t wear such little clothing and covered up a bit more you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Angel raises his fist. “Why I outta-!!” The deer closes one eye, the other’s cornea turning black. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Angel groans. “Oh fuck you.”

Angel suddenly turns to his boyfriend, almost in a fit of rage. “Wait, can’t you just use your voodoo magic shit to teleport us back?” Alastor grimaces. “I’d rather not risk overshooting seeing as the hotel is quite the distance away. Especially in the rain.”

“Besides, I’d rather the two of us not be seen so closely together,” Alastor quietly hisses at Angel. Angel crosses his arms. “You and ‘ya damn ego. Are you really that ashamed of being seen with me?” The deer looks around before leaning towards his companion. “Not specifically you, although it certainly doesn’t help considering your…profession.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Angel shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. “Fuck it’s cold. How much longer we gotta wait here?”

As Angel continues complaining, he suddenly inhales sharply, his head leaning back slightly before jerking forward and bending at the waist as he sneezes. “hH’EhT-kKT’shUH!! ” He groans as he rubs his face. “Motha’ fuck’a, I swear to god if I’m gettin’ sick I’m gonna fuckin-hHI’ETDd-Zziew!! Ugh, fuck.” Alastor remains silent, seemingly ignoring Angel’s struggles and misery.

Alastor pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I would appreciate you keeping your germs to yourself.” Angel laughs, accepting the handkerchief. “Aww, you worried bout me antlers?” The deer growls, a warning for him not to push his luck.

Angel takes a step back. “Ok ok, calm down. Geez.” The two sinners seem to be particularly enjoying themselves. “Looks like the porn star finally found someone who thinks he’s worthwhile.”

Angel rolls his eyes, sniffling. It’s hard for him to roam the streets unrecognized. If he’s not being cat called then he’s being thrown a derogatory comment. “Assholes,” he mutters to himself. Considering his job in the porn industry, he’s used to people only caring about him for sexual benefits. Thankfully enough Alastor couldn’t care less about using Angel for sex.

Alastor can’t help but notice Angel’s mild change in demeanor. “Just ignore them, dear. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.” He remains facing forward, not making eye contact with Angel or the other sinners.

“Aww, how cute. Is the big bad radio demon trying to make you feel better? Can’t even stand up for himself. No wonder he’s the sub.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow slightly. He generally wouldn’t give it a second thought but something about seeing Angel’s face hearing the insults makes him mildly annoyed. “I’d refrain from antagonizing him if I were you. It’d be a shame if it were to escalate unnecessarily.”

“Al, don’t. It’s fine. I’m used to it anyway.” Angel doesn’t sound so much hurt or offended as he does pissed off. This only fuels the fire.

“Yep! Keep telling yourself that! You can’t really think that Alastor of all people would give two shits about you. If you can’t keep an average sinner around, what makes you think you can win yourself an overlord?”

As if almost natural instinct, Alastor casually empales both sinners with a black tendril. They are flung off to lord knows where.

“Oh, damn. Uh,” Angel watches in awe. He’s not quite sure whether to feel touched or terrified. Either way, he blushes, smiling. “Thanks for that, smiles.” Alastor sighs. The two are now alone under the overhang.

“Don’t let them get to you. They know nothing about you or who you really are.” Alastor looks almost embarrassed as he says this. Angel laughs. “Wow, you’re bein’ bold today, ain’t ya? Complimenting me out in public. Damn, maybe you really do have a heart after all…hH’EKk-DdsHIE’uUh!!”

Angel sniffles as he rubs his face again, this time with the provided handkerchief. Alastor sighs. “Come on,” he removes his coat and drapes it over Angel so it acts as an umbrella. “The sooner we get back, the sooner you can dry off.”

The spider laughs. “Aww, you sure are bein sweet to me. You sure you didn’t fall an’ hit your head…II’Hh-GgsSh’EUGH!!” He grimaces, clearing his throat quietly. “Ow…”

Alastor begins walking. “I assure you my love, I am quite alright. You on the other hand won’t be if you are out here much longer.”

Alastor promptly takes Angel by the arm and continues down the sidewalk. Angel blushes. This is about the closest they’ve gotten to holding hands in public. And probably the closest they’ll get for a while.

Angel sighs, smiling. “Thanks Al.”

“You’re welcome, Angel.”

[justabigoldnerd]

2024 Writing Round Up

Thank you so much @cha-melodius for the tag!!!

This year has felt so long and so short at the same time 😅 I'm going into this blind, so let's find out together how many fics I published this year!!

Total: 52

....holy fuck. I mean I did Flufftober this year, and some of these are podfics, but damn

January - 5

"Ravens Love The Snow"

(TMFU Movie; G; 485 words) While working on my winged people anthology, I saw a video of a raven playing in the snow and got inspired lol

"Michelin Star Spy"

(TMFU Movie; T; 3k words; UNFINISHED) Illya is a very important food critic, so he has to keep his identity and profession a closely guarded secret. Turns out he is a little too good at that, and he is swept up into a fascist-busting spy plot lead by a cocky American man and a prickly German woman working for some mysterious organization known as "U.N.C.L.E". ● OR ● 5 times Illya pretends to know what's going on, plus 1 time he actually does

[P.S. I promise this fic isn't abandoned lmao]

"You Take Me In Your Arms When Walls Are Closing In"

(TMFU Movie; M; 2k words) Christmas in England has come and gone, New Years on its heels, but somewhere in Illya's chest, a longing like a thorn has buried itself deep. It's January 7th, and Illya has his head pillowed on his arms, pointedly avoiding the paperwork on his desk.

"In Summer We Can Taste The Rain"

(TMFU Movie; G; 903 words) Illya tries very very hard to ignore the urge to go out and use the warm summer rain to preen. He fails.

"Trapped Within An Abstract From A Moment Of My Life"

(TMFU TV; T; 2k words) This is what happens after Napoleon finds Illya alone in Marion Raven's apartment, terrified after being exposed to a fear-inducing gas.

February - 7

"One More or One Less (Nobody's Worried)"

(TMFU Movie; E; 13k words) The prequel to my Winged Spied Anthology: The events of the movie, but everyone has wings!

"She'll Tell You She's an Orphan After You Meet Her Family"

(TMFU Movie; E; 4k words) Gaby is molting, which is a time bomb of emotions in and of itself, but something else, something deeper, is setting her on edge. Solo and Illya are worried about her. (Winged Spies Part One)

"I'm Going to the Stars Tonight"

(TMFU Movie; G; 2k words) Solo baits Illya into flying for the sake of it for the first time in a very long while. Being nearly drunk helps achieve that goal. (Winged Spies Part Two)

"Let Me Be Your Own Icarian Carrion"

(TMFU Movie; N/R; 2k words) A chase in the air goes south for Illya. (Winged Spies Part Three)

"My Wings Have Been So Denied"

(TMFU Movie; N/R; 3k words) Illya's wings always grew faster than he did. They were big and heavy, and he couldn't fly when all his friends could. A year before his father is sent to the gulag, his parents take him to the doctor for it.

"You Had To Be A Big Shot, Didn't You (You Had To Open Up Your Mouth)"

(TMFU Movie; E; 9k words) A shudder runs down Solo's spine when he uses his wings to seduce a target. A spike of panic pierces his heart when anyone touches them, even Gaby or Illya.

"Kintsukuroi"

(TMFU Movie; G; 1k) Kintsukuroi - The Japanese art of fixing broken ceramics with lacquer mixed with precious metals. ●●● Many years after the events of "You Had To Be A Big Shot, Didn't You (You Had To Open Up Your Mouth)", Solo sees a familiar face in a coffee shop that he never thought he'd see again.

March - 4

"I Will Always Find My Way To You [Podfic]"

(TMFU Movie; T; 5 minutes) In the end, it takes Illya almost five hours to find Rudi. Five hours, in which his mind supplies him with an endless array of horrors, all of which could be happening to his foolish cowboy.

"Always A Well Dressed Fraud"

(TMFU Movie; M; 3k words) "It's much easier to trust a drink you fixed yourself." An alternate version of The Watch Scene, plus a follow up.

"Just Hold Out Against The Night"

(TMFU Movie; M; 1k words) One does not simply walk away from nearly drowning in a harbor. Illya makes it back to the hotel room, but once his heart stops racing, his lungs begin to ache. ● OR ● This is what happens after Solo saves Illya from the harbor of the satellite factory.

"Uneasy Ally Of The Body"

(TMFU Movie; M; 1k words) A little drabble exploring what was going through Solo's head when Victoria drugged him.

April - 3

"Que Si Te La Bebes De Seguro Te Va A Matar"

(TMFU Movie; E; 1k words) Illya Kuryakin's mission is to take out the CIA's most effective agent. Things....don't go as planned.

"If I Could Hold You For A Minute"

(TMFU Movie; T; 2k words) A letter from Gaby to her newborn baby.

"I've Been Watching You A While (Maybe You've Been Watching Me Too)"

(TMFU Movie; M; 3k words) Texas. The state of sprawling desserts, rich farmlands, and absolutely zero* communists.

*Not counting Illya, of course ;)

May - 1

"To Find Someone To Talk To, Who Likes The Way I Am"

(TMFU Movie; E; 46k words) Solo and Gaby are students at a university, studying for their respective career choices, when a foreign exchange student catches the attention of the entire campus - including Solo.

June - 1

"January Embers"

(TMFU Movie; T; 2k words) Fireplaces are NOT beds. For most people. Illya is not most people.

July - 7

"Death, He Knows the Panes of My Face"

(TMFU Movie; E; 5k words) A mission goes sideways. Solo gets himself strung up from the ceiling and learns what it's like to be cooked from the inside out.

"Blood In Your Teeth and Mud On Your Hands"

(TMFU Movie; N/R; 1k words) Gaby drags Solo to a motocross race, where Illya Kuryakin, better known as The Red Peril in the motocross scene, wins first place. Solo is immediately enamored.

"I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor)"

(TMFU Movie; E; 25k words; UNFINISHED) Twenty years after their friend is taken from them, Illya is called into service to guard the all-too-familiar looking Prince.

[P.S. I promise this one is ALSO not abandoned!!]

"[Podfic] Country Roads (Take Me Home)"

(TMFU Movie; T; 10 minutes) “We were supposed to turn off motorway half-hour ago!”

“We heard you the first time, Illya,” says Gaby, drumming her hands on the wheel. Her ponytail snaps like a whip as she rolls her window down. Outside, the rolling fields stretch away into oblivion as they speed along the grey-paved road. “There’s more than one way to get there.”

“Is not what map says,” grumbles the Russian from the back seat, but the sounds of crinkling paper speak up soon after, announcing that he has retreated back behind said map in silence.

"Would You Lay With Me?"

(TMFU Movie; N/R; 2k words) A sore throat. An itch just out of reach, banished only for moments at a time by a suppressed cough. Just the change of seasons, Illya told himself when the itching turned to burning as he went to bed that night. He was living in a much warmer climate than he was used to, after all. Surrounded by plants he didn't grow up inhaling the pollen of. ● OR ● Illya is sick and angry about it.

"[Podfic] The Words I Cannot Say"

(TMFU Movie; T; 3 minutes) Illya’s not a fool. He knows that if he had been faster, if the tracker’s signal had been stronger, then he might have saved Solo some pain. Saved him the silver nails that punched through his flesh. Saved him the bandages, torn from an old shirt in the warehouse, wrapped tightly around his bleeding hand.

"[Podfic] These Veins Like Wires"

(TMFU Movie; T; 20 minutes) The first time Gaby sees it, she is evesdropping on a conversation she is quite certain she’s not supposed to know about. —— Or, Five times that others noticed the collar, and the one time Solo did.

August - 8

"I've Told A Million Lies But Now I Tell A Single Truth"

(TMFU Movie; E; 3k words) Five times someone discovers that Napoleon Solo is transgender + the first time he does.

"Everything's Got A Price"

(TMFU Movie; E; 3k words) Napoleon Solo, a renowned mercenary in the underworld, is going to be hired to protect the son of Nikolai Kuryakin, a Russian Mob boss. Things take a slightly different turn once Nikolai leaves them alone together. (Part Two of "Now You See Me, Now You Don't")

"A Passion Crime With A Danger Sign"

(TMFU Movie; E; 6k words) Three weeks. That's how long it takes for the mystery organization after the Kuryakins to make an attempt on Illya's life. Solo has the chance to prove he's worth his price tag. (Part Four of "Now You See Me, Now You Don't")

"Religion Leaves a Bitter Taste"

(TMFU Movie; M; 1k words) The Prayer Vigil after Illya's mother is killed. (Before the events of Part One of "Now You See Me, Now You Don't")

"Dissecting Destruction"

(TMFU Movie; T; 3k words) An essay dissecting Illya Kuryakin's psychotic breaks, specifically the one before the infamous Watch Scene, and all of the detail and symbolism involved in it.

"Spies Are Forever"

(TMFU Movie/The Lone Ranger; M; 1k) Major Character Death is (technically) Temporary. They don't know how or why, but every time Illya and Solo die, they find each other in the next life. Neither of them had ever been able to communicate with the body they inhabited.

"For Death Is Not The Worst Of Evils"

(TMFU Movie/2081; E; 1k words) (Spoilers for the movie "2081", available on Youtube) The climactic scene from "2081", but if it were Illya and Solo.

"One More Sweet Boy To Be Butchered By Man"

(TMFU Movie; E; 2k words) "Then he said: don't you know? I am trying to make you great.

And I said: I do not want to be great, I want to be loved."

- Sue Zhao

•••

Illya is seventeen and suffering brutal treatment by his peers and higher-ups. (Suicide tag is that of a minor character)

September - 1

"Slip Inside The Eye Of Your Mind"

(Gravity Falls; T; 1k words) Two traumatized old men learning how to be people again- one cup of interdimensional coffee at a time.

October - 13

"TMFU (2015) Flufftober 2024"

(TMFU Movie; 12 Works; G, T, M, and E, 22k words total) My TMFU responses for 12 of the 31 Flufftober 2024 prompts.

"Waste The Night"

(Gravity Falls; T; 749 words) Flufftober Day Six: Mistaken Identity --- It's another late night in the lab, and Fiddleford assumes it's not his friend who gets his attention.

November - 1

"Approach, Appear"

(TMFU Movie; M; 956 words) "The roof is a place of morbid comfort, for him. When things felt too heavy, he would climb the stairs to the hatch and just sit on the ledge. He would lean back on his palms, letting the bite of gravel ground him, and just trace constellations, listening to the night birds call." ••• Illya likes to sit on the rooftop when his thoughts get too much. Solo tends to join him.

December - 2

"[Podfic] A Cowboy And A Communist Walk Into A Bar"

(TMFU Movie; T; 15 minutes) Deveny’s got his hands tucked into his pockets, watching Illya intently where the Russian has paused. They’d parked his pickup back down the road, in cover of some scraggly trees before trekking the rest of the drive on foot. It’s dimly lit by the pale orb of the moon hanging overhead like a mobile. The grass like three day old stubble under their shoes.

“I usually work alone,” Illya admits now, taking in the full size of the looming warehouse. And it’s true. Sometimes it’s Gaby, but he’s never had another partner. It’s a strange feeling, though not wholly unpleasant. “But this will not work. Not tonight.”

“Alright,” says the American at last, gilded in the moonlight. Voice dusty and raw like the landscape stretching out around them. He almost sounds as if he’s been gargling the sand. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe it’s the smoking. “I’ll help ya. But it's in and out, no mess, and nobody knows we've been here. And we both forget about it in the mornin’. Deal?”

"Winter Exchange Fic"

(TMFU; ?; ????) Yet to be revealed.

Phew!! I don't know how I managed to get all of this written while also working 😅 Apparently I have more spoons than I thought! Turns out I just use them all to write LMAO

Anyway, a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has supported me, read/listened to my works, left kudos, commented, made podfics and fanart of my works, etc. 💕💕💕💕💕 I would not be here without you all 💕💕💕💕 I cannot WAIT to show you all what next year will bring!!!

Love and SO many hugs,

Mawce

As always, no pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @mybelovedillya @the-golden-comet @thattripleabattery

@too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones @prettyboynapoleonsolo

And an Open Tag for anyone who wants to join!!!

[popcornforone]

DECEMBER

A part of the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Masterlist

November

It’s here

The final entry of the Marcus Pike Diary & if I’m honest I’m really gonna miss the soft writing for him. He has finally got the life he deserved & I want to thank you all for coming on the 12 month journey with me. It’s been a pleasure. Please check out the Masterlist for the rest of the story.

Synopsis:- You have to convince Marcus to go wreath making.

Word count:- 800

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Swearing, alcohol, pregnancy(dont worry they don’t drink) piv Dex, teasing, pda, extremely fluffy & romantic, remember this is a diary so it’s all I.

Thank you all so much for reading the Diary. It’s really appreciated.

Marcus wasnt keen when I booked this up back in August, just before we went on holiday. He was like why do we need to do this. But today it all paid off & he’s been excited to do this for the last week.

We went wreath making. The little craft shop 2 blocks away does festive nights & I thought this would be the perfect chill evening for us both. I’ve done one with friends a couple of years ago & he said it was the best wreath ever, but this year I said we should both go. A nice couples evening.

We weren’t the only couple there. It was a mix of friendship groups, couples & sibling. All listening intently to the instructions. Marcus of course thought he was all over this. 5 mins in he was swearing.

“Fuck” he said after the 3rd Holly sprig poked him. “Bloody holly” he said having a sip of his champagne. He’s happy I’m pregnant, means he can drink & not worry, because I will be happy to drive him home. I mean he’s happy I’m pregnant for lots of reasons obviously but it means we don’t have to pay for taxis this holiday season.

“Language Marcus” I said not shouting when I drew blood a few minutes later.

“I just want it to be perfect baby” he said kissing my neck. Marcus is loving the PDA at the moment. Something about my bump showing is making him even more loving that usual. Or is it just my breast looking so fabulous & full.

80 minutes in & the hard part of the wreath was done. Holly, pines, eucalyptus, Christmas tree, all sorts of green Shrubbery covered them. Now it was time to decorate.

“Do you trust me Marcus?” I said as I went to go get items for us to put on the wreaths.

“Always baby” he said as he moved into another glass of fizz. His eyes widened when he saw how much stuff I brought back. “That’s a lot” he chuckles.

“Yes it is but I have an idea” I said. “We use all the same main materials but for the bells, stars, candy canes & glitter one of us uses pink & the other blue” he smiles.

“Oooh that’s a good idea” he says “hang on thought you didn’t want a gender reveal party” he said looking confused as we had talked about this.

“I don’t but it your family & mine will be together at your parents cabin for Christmas. We will know next week what we are having so we can arrive at the cabin & present them all with the correct colour wreath & the other one can be on our door at home.” Marcus kisses my forehead. His hand coved in sap from sorting out the greenary rubs my now showing bump.

“Clever girl” he says.

“I have my moment.”

Once our wreaths are made & we both look at them happily we take a photo of us holding them both wondering what we will be blessed with.

“Are you going to post all of your pregnancy on Instagram” he joked as we made our way back to our places once it was all over.

“Not all of it”

“Well seems like you have so far”

“Do you want me to post some of those naughty photos we took in the waterfall baby & that lagoon so everyone knows where bump was conceived” he turned bright red.

“True but I think when we get home I’m gonna need a reminder.”

I love my evening baths at the moment I’m having 2 a week & usually Marcus joins me for one a fortnight. Tonight was that night. The candles at the end of the bath. Soft rnb playing. How I sat in his lap. The way he washed my with the sponge. The way I feel so sensitive every time he pushes inside me. His fingers on my clit as I turn my head back to nip & kiss at his ear & neck. Soft moans as we slowly grind together. The water enhancing my pleasure. He still loves to pleasure me. Says even when I’m gonna be to tired & not physically able to be thrust into that he will still lick me out, make my pussy pur & make his face glisten. He loves me & he loves that my body is glowing with pregnancy.

I can’t believe the year is almost up diary. I’m now sat in bed while he does to make me a honey & hot water drink to have before bed. When he said new year new us back on New Year’s Eve, im not sure I really believed him. But I now know that next year will be a new beginning all over again.

I’m so happy with my life, my bump & my Marcus Pike. The man I would do anything for. My rock, my souls mate, my man.

[raccoonfallsharder]

hi ! i’m writing my first fic right now and i feel like it’s not going anywhere. do you have any general writing tips that you think would be helpful, like at all (i’m really struggling) i’ve written multiple narratives before but nothing like this and it feels Daunting. thank you =3 !!

well if it isn’t my favorite rocket-raccoon-presentation-creator! ♡♡ thank you for trusting me with this question little sunbeam. I will do my best to answer well & do the question justice

before i get started i wanna make a few things clear.

writing fanfiction should be fun.

it should be fun. the end. if it’s not fun, it’s either not the right fanfic or it’s not the right time, and it’s okay to put it aside and come back to it later. it’s also okay to put it aside and come back to it never. fanfiction should never be a chore. you don’t need to complete every fanfic you start, and none of them need to be perfect. fanfiction is just a place for you to play, experiment, find catharsis, fantasize, or connect with a community. it’s not a thing you need to produce for a grade or a paycheck or to prove your worth. it is only here for you to love.

also, i tend to shy away from giving “advice” because everyone’s writing process is so unique and what we create is so singular and comes from such personal places inside each of us. you are the best expert of your own habits and needs! but i can tell you what i do when i get stuck in a rut, and you can decide if you want to try something like it. maybe my strategies can give you some ideas of something that will work for you ♡

Daydream. it’s actually really hard to daydream these days, you know? i swear it’s so tempting to always have a screen in front of my eyes or a podcaster or show blaring in my ears. when i get stuck in a narrative, i try to do something that allows me to daydream. for me, this might mean standing in the shower or going for a walk or sitting on my apartment balcony in the rain (best of both worlds tbh) but one rule i have for myself is no words allowed. no reading, no podcasts, not even lyrics to my music because i’ll want to sing along. just me and my thoughts, which i am focusing on how my characters are reacting to whatever is happening in the story. ~

Map. for me it’s really important to know where my story is going. i have to know the end before i can really commit to writing anything in order. i also map my chapters. what themes am i hoping to tackle? what emotions am i trying to evoke? knowing where i’m going and what i’m trying to do along the way gives me motivation and inspiration. ~

Fuck it up. whether it’s a part of a longer piece, or the whole damn narrative — if i get stuck, i try to write from a different perspective or a different point in time, or ask myself whether the narrative really is what i think it is. one of my favorite (old, non-rocket) oneshots from my first life in fanfiction was driving me crazy because I couldn’t figure out how to end it — then i realized that it had already ended itself and i was trying to add more that didn’t need to be there. maybe what you think is a longform fic is actually a one-shot, or a series of one-shots. maybe it starts later than you’d realized, or ends earlier. i got stuck in a chapter of florescence and then tried to rewrite it from the perspective of an orloni and it suddenly became so much easier. i couldn’t figure out how to get rocket to ask reader to be his date in welcome to the knowhere christmas party, so i just plopped him down on a barstool and had him tell the story to reader himself. sometimes you just stare at something for so long that it stops making sense, so you gotta pick it up and shake it and let all the parts resettle. ~

Write whatever comes to mind. you don’t have to write in order, you know. If you want to write chapter 22 and you’re only on chapter 10, write chapter 22! who’s gonna stop you? you can refine it when you get to it. if you don’t end up using it, oh well. you can turn it into something new or use it elsewhere or gracefully retire it, with gratitude for it being so fun to write when you did. ~

Find another way to tell the story. sometimes when i'm stuck, i spend some time focusing on some other medium while i think about the story. this is when i work on a moodboard, or doodle a favorite scene. if you have someone you like to discuss your fandom with (or like, a beta reader), try talking to them about the part of the story you're stuck on! sometimes your brain just gets worded-out and switching over to a different creative medium helps shake things loose! ~

Take a break. you're not on a deadline. the people who love what you write will wait for it. let me again refer you to my very first point, which is that fanfiction should be fun! so go read someone whose work you admire (published or unpublished). go do some daydreaming. play a game, watch a movie. take some time off, whether it's three days or three months or three years. fanfiction isn't a job. it's only there to satisfy your own heart, and to share with people who love what you love.

i hope some of that helps, if only a little bit, little love. and i hope you are able to overcome whatever's obstructing your writing right now, and that something beautiful comes of it — even if it's not what you expected. ♡♡

RELATED: writing thoughts writing feedback vs writing advice | making time to write & avoiding burnout | you don't have to write in any particular order

[the-flowerwolf]

Hogwarts legacy headcanons

While normal people go and socialize I wake up and think about ✨them✨

So there's some headcanons about my favourite Legacy Team (as I call them) for ya folks while I'm writing a really big fic about them. Careful, some of them are sad. And don't mind my poor grammar thanks.

Btw, collages are mine, feel free to use them💙

🐍Sebastian Sallow🐍

First off all, if you turn him in, I don't trust you

Literally a typical Slytherin

A nerd. Just a nerd.

Quidditch? Babe, the only sport for him is dueling

Felt absolutely helpless when his parents died. And that's why he's so protective. He just can't let anyone else die on his watch

Really is a small version of his father and proud of it

Believes that the end justifies the means

Hopeless flirt BUT a gentleman. Wouldn't do anything you don't like

And also most probably believes in true love

A proud bisexual

Everyone think that "he fucks everything that moves" but he's a virgin who "saves himself for the one and only"

As some fan said, he was probably born on 18th September. And it's a canon now.

A great friend but a terrible secret keeper, so for Merlin's sake, don't tell him ANYTHING

Knows how to braid hair into the most complex ways

Pro feminist! Treats women right and knows all important stuff thanks to his sis

🔥Natty Onai🔥

I'm sorry but she's so underrated and for what??

I believe she really respect traditions she were tought as a child

Her favourite holiday must be her birthday. All because it was the only day of the year when her parents forgot about all the dangers and sorrows and they just got together, spending the best time

Most probably will return to the homeland after Hogwarts

Is the only member of the team who play quidditch

(as a keeper ofc)

She's a lesbian idk dudes

A very honest girl who were raised to be a good person

So she just expects the same from others

A very competitive. But not like Imelda. Natty respects fair competition and knows how to honorably recognize a match

Although this does not mean that she will not destroy you to win

Is always cold poor thing

Religious bc I feel like it

Has mommy issues and don't tell me I'm wrong

Will definitely become the best auror one day

🌼Poppy Sweeting🌼

Her favourite holiday is Christmas lemme tell you that

Trust issues

She's trying her best to be gentle with every living being because she saw too much violence already

And that's why she thinks animals are better than people (agree)

She's definitely an INFP and I won't change my mind

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you

A cliché but I feel like she's an excellent cook

Although she would LOVE to find someone to understand her (like us) she's totally okay with being on her own

Is into mind games like chess

But will go to see a quidditch game just to support Natty (and mc if they play)

Is always up to an adventure

Bullies? Girl grew up among killers, you really think she would care about some bullies?

I feel like she has the strongest personality in here. Doesn't matter what happens she will always stand straight while helping others

Is a cat person

Can't cry bc she was not allowed as a child

💚Ominis Gaunt💚

Just an innocent little boy let's be honest

He may look like he can kill you but he's just a cinnamon roll

Jokes about his blindness as a defence mechanism

Had a crush on both Sallow siblings at some point and I can't blame him

Saw a theory on tiktok that his patronus would be albino snake. CANON

Just wants to have a simple quiet life without any drama

Protective of his friends BUT is more protective of his boundaries

Don't mind his blindness he knows EXACTLY how to be a fashion icon

Another cliché: Omi can play piano

And it's the only thing his parents tought him that he loves. Playing helps him to calm down

Is very private, but as soon as he starts to trust you, he will immediately blurt out his life story, dreams, fears etc

Though he can't see an actual game, Omi likes to go on a quidditch game, because of the happy energy around him

Is sick most of the time for some reason. Cold, stomach ache or anything really

Also a nerd. But unlike Sebastian he's a fiction lover. Helps him to escape reality, especially in his family's house

Clingy with everyone he loves bc they make him feel safe

[kalegreeneyes]

LOVING burning and buried, but i broke my rule of only reading completed fics so i’m itching for some more wolf star fics to read in between updates. do you have any recs for fics? i feel like i can trust your opinion given how good your work is!

the answer is yes, but the answer is also that i read a LOT of wips, and some of my recs will be bigger fics you may have already read, or have jegulus as another main ship which idk if you're into or not but here!!

completed:

lose yourself by daiver - holy SHIT this fic was so good. remus gets brainwashed into being a death eater and it is sooooo so so angsty and wonderful. it had so many moments that had my heart RACING

the horcrux hunt by lostmy_keys - this is one of my favorite fics of all time. regulus (reluctantly) teams up with remus to hunt horcruxes. it is regulus centric but also remus, MOSTLY platonic moonwater (which if u like burning and buried i assume u like) but they are quite flirty....which may not be your cup of tea, but as someone who has had a flirty close platonic friendship or two i LOVED. slowburn ANGSTY wolfstar. honestly, i might reread this one now that i've been talking about it. so fucking good.

the cadence of part time poets by motswolo- if you haven't read this, you should. its amazing. if you like slow burn wolfstar, plenty of angst, mentally ill remus lupin, and the best oc's i have ever seen in a fic, this is for you. it is a band au, but mostly it is a boarding school preparing to be in a band au and a freshly starting out band au. extremely long, but extremely worth it.

for the love of ducks by viwrites - UGH anything vi writes i love, but this is a wolfstar sickfic that just sort of scoops up your heart into warm hands and holds it. like, don't get me wrong, it's got angst--but in a comforting way? i love this fic. so fucking much.

saccharine by moonymoment - sirius is a ghost in an apartment remus moves into. i was smiling through this whole fic except for when i was crying.

'tis the damn season by moonymoment - wolfstar fake relationship christmas fic - need i say more?

retrial by pheonixgal - remus hosts a true crime podcast and focuses on sirius's case, which is a concept i LOVE.

god i could keep going for a WHILE but I'll move on

WIPs:

godlight by Badhairred - this is my fave wip at the moment. it has SUPER regular updates. it's jegulus and wolfstar, and i LIVE for the wolfstar in this fic. their relationship, the buildup, the backstory, UGH. jegulus is fantastic too in this fic, obvi, but since you're asking abt wolfstar...i love them in this fic.

sirius black's second chance by platypus_and_pen - as you might guess from the title this is a bring back black fic in which he goes back in time to his hogwarts days after going through the veil, and he gets to reconnect with not only himself, but his friends, and also HOPEFULLY right some wrongs.

the middle path of moonlight by asheseverafter - this fic is so long, so well written, and has weekly updates. i will warn you that they are STILL quite young (i think 14/15 right now? i'm not entirely sure) as the author is taking their time with each year (Which i love) but the relationship between sirius and remus (while not explicitly shown, builds into fade to black or is vague) is quite.......advanced. i personally, as a 26 year old adult, have to skip over that stuff just for my own comfort, and there is still a fair bit of overtly sexual flirting/jokes which is kind of impossible to skip over so if that isn't something you'll be comfy with then that's totally fair, BUT. that being said, the writing in this fic is absolutely gorgeous, i get jealous every time i read it. and the moonwater friendship is AMAZING and the black brothers/black family dynamics are some of the best i've ever seen and how in love and dedicated wolfstar are the entire time is very sweet.

cupid's chokehold by lollipopluna - also mainly jegulus and also having a good amount of wolfstar, but i had to recommend because it is just. so. good. it is violent and dirty and everyone is a little rough around the edges (putting it lightly) but no one moreso than reg and remus. there hasn't been too terribly much ACTUAL wolfstar bc of the angst and the slow burn aspect but i am so so excited to see where they go, and where jegulus goes, and where platonic (not even. more like reluctant enemies former friends?? I guess??) moonwater goes. the DRAMA. the INTRIGUE. the INTENSITY. its great.

AND last but not least, on a pillow of blue bonnets by kalegreeneyes (me (: ) - sirius is famous and he's spinning out so james and pete and regulus are like GET OUT OF HERE and they ship him off to remus's ranch in montana where lily and marlene live and work too!! and barty and evan are ranch hands! and it's a slow burn! and there are horses! and cowboy remus wielding an axe! the downside is that i haven't updated it in a really long time and the new chapter is slow going ha ha ha ha ha BUT it isn't abandoned and i have the whole fic loosely planned out!!!

alright that's all for my absurdly long rec. i could have kept going but i had a moment of self awareness and had to stop, lol

ty for asking!!

[presidenthades]

Finished the first big revision of Compromise Ch. 12! Maybe I will actually update before the end of the year. We’ll see how crazy Christmas is. But for now: behind-the-scenes commentary for Lavender Ch. 4.

Usual disclaimer that these thoughts aren’t necessarily canonical to the fic verse until/unless I write them into the actual story.

At the beginning of the chapter, we see one of Jace’s flaws: she hates bothering other people, even if it’s to her own detriment. She will defend and help other people, but girlie puts herself last. It’s an admirable trait until someone takes advantage of it, steadily isolating her while she refuses to complain, until she has no other options for friends…

When Aegon says his tearful “I’m sorry” litany, the last one is to the baby because he knows he fucked up and is going to be gone for the rest of the pregnancy. 😢

Jace in this universe, compared to Golds!Jace, feels way less empowered to push back against Viserys. She didn’t grow up in the Red Keep with him this time around.

Letting Jace pick Aegon’s outfit is always the way to go. 👌🏼 I couldn’t resist a dig at Aemond’s one leather outfit lol. As a prince he should have more clothes, but the 2010s black leather aesthetic is still going strong. I imagine his wardrobe is just twenty identical black leather outfits he rotates between.

The OG Rhaenys’s death is a really interesting mystery. Here, Aegon believes the version where Rhaenys was tortured until the Dornish forced the Conqueror to make peace before putting her out of her misery. His adventures in Dorne don’t explicitly contradict this version, and I was careful not to have the Dornish characters talk too much about it. But as the author, I’m not entirely sure this version is what really happened. 🧐

Anyway, as soon as I decided I was writing a Dorne arc, I knew I had to draw some Aegon I/Rhaenys and Aegon II/Jace parallels. I started laying the groundwork this chapter.

Jace has a fleeting thought about trimming Aegon’s hair before he leaves. This is a very niche and roundabout way to reference how much Aegon trusts her. Does anyone remember that GOT scene where Theon is shaving Ramsay, and he’s tempted to slit Ramsay’s throat? You have to really trust your barber, AKA the person wielding a very sharp blade against your face. Of course a prince would have a servant for this job, but I like to think Jace takes over Aegon’s shaving and haircuts as another form of intimacy. Also he prefers it when she does it.

Aegon’s memory of drunk Viserys calling him Baelon is why it reallyyyyy hurts when he thinks Jace named their baby Baelon. 😬

Jace has an easier pregnancy in this verse in large part because she doesn’t experience the traumatic events in The Golds. She also isn’t running herself ragged trying to do three people’s jobs.

Aegon and Jace’s confession scene makes me feel so warm and fuzzy. 😭 Aegon is the heir to the throne, but he’s still worried he’s too dumb for his smart wife. Luckily Jace understands that there’s different types of intelligence other than book smarts. Also, he’s 1000% serious about Jace sitting on him on the Iron Throne lmao.

Their little shepherd and shopgirl daydream is something I am REALLY tempted to write in an Ancient Valyria AU. Aegon actually seems he would enjoy being a shepherd; he gets to run around all day, and he can even play music when the sheep are grazing. No paperwork or meetings.

At one point while writing this fic, I considered a plot point where Jace rejects Larys, and in retaliation he forges evidence that she and Criston (who is frequently guarding her alone) are having an affair. It ended up not fitting in the overall story so I nixed it, but sometimes I wonder how that would’ve turned out.

Aemond and Luce definitely made out prior to the scene where everyone is saying goodbye.

Aegon really appreciated Jace’s “I’ll miss you” because it was very honest and unfiltered. She genuinely meant it, and even though he hates leaving, it makes him feel better knowing that he’ll be missed.

Cheeseball kicked because he telepathically knew his daddy was waving goodbye. 😭

Jace wishes for an ally on the Small Council, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. 👀 Now that Aegon is gone, Larys feels bold enough to make a move and send her the note.

Luce doesn’t think anyone on the Small Council noticed her, but Larys somehow knew she was there instead of Jace. That’s when Larys decides he needs to get rid of Jace’s sisters and cousins.

The spicy squid and pepper dish was targeting Baela and Rhaena. There was the risk the other girls might eat some, but Larys was confident that Jace, being pregnant, would refrain from a strange dish.

Criston has very little reason to be mean to the Velargirls in this verse. He barely knows them, and they’re Laenor’s kids so he doesn’t have his canon resentment about their parentage. He is able to treat his assignment guarding Jace as simply a job; it helps that she’s very easy to guard. Their conversation by the twins’ sickbed helps him get to know her a bit better, and he sees that she’s conscientious of duty, which he appreciates. He also admires Jace’s intelligence as she works through her thoughts about the investigation. Unfortunately, just as he’s warming up to her, he remembers the last time he was too friendly with a Targ princess (Rhaenyra) and immediately backtracks. ☹️ RIP Jace and Criston’s friendship.

Poor innocent cook Jorgen was killed as part of Larys’s plot, because he needed to throw doubt on whether High Tide would be safer for Jace. If a cook who worked at High Tide from years seems complicit in the poisoning, then maybe it’s best to just keep Jace in the Red Keep.

Jace is extremely relieved when her parents and grandparents arrive to assume responsibility. It can be easy to forget that she’s only 16, yet she’s been shouldering so many burdens on her family’s behalf.

Velaryons try to make a break for it, but the master of whisperers prepared for the possibility. When Viserys glances around him, once again he glances at Larys, whom he confides in a lot more in this verse.

Patriarchy in action this chapter! Women have to belong to somebody. Jace is married, so she belongs to her husband’s family now, not her father’s family. Ergo, she goes where the Targs want. Jace doesn’t like it, but she understands this is the way of things, so she tries to defuse the situation.

Note how Viserys says “your daughter has faith in my guards and whisperers.” 🧐

When Rhaenyra realizes she won’t be allowed to bring Jace back to Driftmark, she decides to stay with Jace instead. She’s determined not to leave Jace alone in the Red Keep…although that changes after the big fight. 😢

Luce also gets a taste of being dragged around by the patriarchy. She wants to stay with Jace, but Corlys says no, and the patriarch is always right.

Criston really doesn’t like Rhaenyra (the feeling is mutual), but he still has a job to do. 😩 Even though Criston has drawn hard boundaries, Jace is still attached to him because Aegon picked Criston for her. She has this feeling that if Criston is guarding her, then Aegon is indirectly keeping her safe.

Jace loves and misses her mom…but she can still find her mom smothering. 😅 As mentioned above, Jace has been shouldering a lot of burdens, so she feels like she’s grown up a lot and deserves to be treated as an adult/Rhaenyra’s equal. Rhaenyra still sees her as her baby though.

Even though Rhaenyra thinks poorly of Alicent, she sincerely believed that Alicent would treat Jace well (which Alicent has), so Rhaenyra feels betrayed (a bit irrationally, maybe) that Alicent has “allowed” the poisoning attempts.

Meanwhile Alicent is desperate to rekindle her friendship with Rhaenyra—but she has her limits (in this non-canon universe at least…) and gets annoyed when Rhaenyra keeps snarking about Aegon for no good reason.

“Aemond always has to suffer before he learns.” Helaena dropping truth bombs 💥.

Rhaenyra thinks Mysaria (before Mysaria fled) was the one informing her about Aegon’s doings, like the rumors about him boasting to his friends about having sex with Jace in the Small Council chamber. But we learn from Mysaria later that she only wrote one letter to Rhaenyra, which said that Aegon really liked Jace. This discrepancy is due to Larys of course. 🤧 I imagine even now, while Rhaenyra is in the Red Keep, Larys is planting more of these seeds to sow discord between her and Jace.

“We are the eternal bedrock beneath your feet. But a man like Aegon? The promises of devotion he has written in the sand will wash away with the tide.” Rhaenyra has picked up on the Velaryons’ maritime metaphors ahahah.

When Jace lashes out about Rhaenyra being abandoned by Daemon, we see that Jace does have a capacity for cruelty, and boy can she hit where it hurts. But she doesn’t like being cruel, so she feels sorry about it immediately (lucky for Westeros). Rhaenyra is human too, however, and her reaction is to run away and lick her wounds. She also can’t help tossing that final barb, “I trust that Her Grace will treat you like her own daughter”; if Jace is so defensive of Alicent, then maybe Jace should go to Alicent instead when she needs a mother. Rhaenyra regrets all these things once she gets to Driftmark. But Larys interferes with Jace’s apology raven, so Rhaenyra never realizes Jace wants her back.

Once again, we see one of Jace’s flaws—being her own worst critic—causing trouble for her. When she doesn’t receive any messages from the Velaryons, she believes it must be because she really is a bad daughter and they don’t want her anymore.

Helaena’s riddle is a reference to Larys, who has a firefly insignia on his cane. “Some glow green, but others glow yellow like false gold.” These are references to Team Green (which doesn’t exist in this verse, but that was Larys’s side in canon) and Team Gold (Larys pretending he’s on Jace’s side).

I have a lot of thoughts about the logistics of the Kingsguard. The seven of them can guard just the king at all hours of the day and night; they can work in shifts. But when you spread them out to the rest of the royal family, the shifts are harder to manage. They’re human, they have to eat and sleep. In this chapter, I show that even though Criston does his best to guard Jace, he can’t do it alone. He tries to vary when he rests, so sometimes he takes his break in the daytime, sometimes at night. Larys sneaks in to meet Jace when Criston isn’t there, because Criston would be more suspicious of him than a regular guard.

Larys approaching Jace at the weirwood is a parallel to him approaching Alicent at the weirwood in early S1.

“The sigil of House Strong winked at her, as if telling her a secret.” Note that Larys’s hand wearing his signet ring is resting on his cane, which has the firefly sigil.

Larys knows how to flatter Jace and start winning her over. She wants to be acknowledged as intelligent and capable, so he does that. He also knows that she’s fallen for Aegon, so he uses info about Aegon to manipulate her.

See Chapter 5 commentary here.

[cha-melodius]

Fic Rec Friday

It's that time of the week again! Thanks for the tags Lola, @rmd-writes, and @celeritas2997!

The Theme: a fic that makes you laugh / smile so much your cheeks hurt The Rules: tag a fic that makes you laugh / smile so much your cheeks hurt and give a brief description of why it’s awesome. Then tag some fellow associates. The wider the reach, the better. Don’t forget to tag @welcometololaland or #fic rec friday so that she can include your fic recs in her round up later today!

Going rogue and expanding into new fandoms that I only dabble in, but I can't not with this theme.

RWRB: Five letter word for 'unobservant' by @clottedcreamfudge IMO the question is not who wrote the fic that belongs in this category but which of Hattie's almost painfully funny one-shots you choose. I'm going for 'the wordle one,' because I feel like it captures their absurdity on another level.

TMFU: michelin star man by yukla AU where Napoleon is a michelin restaurant critic and Illya is still a spy, the snappy way the action sequences are written—not to mention the banter—always make me laugh.

Loki: Self-Insert by @mirilyawrites Oh my god, the whole concept of Mobius writing self-insert fic about Loki is hilarious, but Loki's reactions also just absolutely send me. Brilliantly done, and writing all of Mobius' fic too?? Amazing.

The Witcher: the brightest shade of the sun by @alittlebitmaybe Ciri is in Jaskier's kindergarden class, Geralt is a tired dad, but it's Yennefer's interstitial asides that absolutely fucking MURDER me in this fic.

X-Men First Class: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia A cherik fic in which they are all crabs. Yes, that live in the ocean. No, I'm dead serious. It's fucking hysterical. How does it work?? It just works.

Good Omens: muddle through somehow by curtaincall My very favorite Christmas in Conneticut AU. It's such an amazing comedy of errors, I read it every single Christmas without fail.

Tagging @cricketnationrise, @orchidscript, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @three-drink-amy, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @wolfpup026, plus literally everyone reading this right now, PLEASE share the love!!

[narrators-journal]

Part 9

Ngl, I procrastinated on this part bc we’re getting into the chapters I’m not suppppper confident in. Like, I like them, but I feel like the characterizations aren’t the strongest, or the plot was too boring or confusing. Then, I ended up hitting a sort of slump in my interest in this fic. I had a lot of fresh ideas, this one felt kinda weak, then life has been rough, so I ended up putting it off MORE as a result.

But! I am determined to post this bitch! Even if it’s not my strongest work! So if you’ve stuck around this long, you are so fuckin’ great dudes and dudettes! I hope you can forgive any wonky writing or missed stuff going forward, I just wanted to get this part done since I’d left it so close to done, but left it hanging lol. Admittedly, no garuntee on when part 10 will be done, but there’s only 3 more chapters! So hopefully I can knock them out soon! Soon-ish! Before the next god damned Christmas!

Thank you for hanging on for this beast. I really do appreciate it. I’m gonna try my best going forward, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

Previous part: Here

Next part: Here

The morning after Yukari's questions was a bit tense. At least, tense enough for Ryoji to ask if they'd fought again when he noticed Yukari's vicious glaring.

Yet, with a limited time of her stay remaining, Minato ignored the dirty looks and kept his mouth shut. If she didn't learn her lesson with her first attempt, that's her issue. He told himself on his way to the kitchen on her final day. Only to freeze before grabbing the handle of the cracked-open kitchen doors when he heard the conversation. "Why are you so close to Minato?" Yukari was questioning. Which, while annoying, did pique the man's interest as much as it made him bristle. Stop that. Ryoji liking us does nothing to hurt us. Quit it. He scolded himself, shoving those anxious feelings back down. Him having feelings for me, good or bad, doesn't affect our relationship, it's fine.

That point didn't stop Minato from listening against the kitchen doors for Ryoji's answer, though. "I'm not that attached to Mina, am I?" He asked, a pause his only response before he hummed, "Well, if I must try to explain myself. He's not the first sacrifice to not fear Thanatos, but he's probably the most interesting in how he goes about it. Usually, even the most resigned offering snaps at least once, but...I think his only escape attempt was moreso because of what I did, not the threat of dying." he began, adding in a brighter tone "Oh! I also like his sense of humor, or, at least the way he's not as judge-y about mine. He's also got a nice laugh, and he's smart! Granted, he showed that by trying to escape. But, he was smart enough to try and cover his tracks, and use the snow to his advantage! Most sacrifices go for the doors, so, y'know, refreshing at the least. I get tired of the corpses only digging straight up to get out of the graves."

Naturally, the morbid attempt at a joke only got another unamused silence from the girl. "Okay, then why does he get special treatment?" "Huh? Whoever said he got special treatment?" Minato heard the brunette squawk. Sounding almost offended at her words before she continued with a light, but pointed tone, "I mean, you two seem close, you trust him enough to not be up his ass 24/7 around here," Ryoji cut her off, "Jokes on you! I simply haven't gotten around to asking him if I can be up his ass yet." Which, got an annoyed half-scream that time instead of a silent look. "Wait, where are you going?! Breakfast isn't done!" Ryoji called. Minato left to scramble away from the doors before Yukari threw them open as she snapped back, "Ugh, no! fuck your breakfast, I'm not going to sit down here when you're being gross!" "I was only joking! It was a joke, I didn't think it was that gross!- Oh, good morning Minato."

The pair stopped when they spotted the blue-haired man in his pale dress in the entryway of the fancy, gothic home. Yukari eyed him as Ryoji smiled at him. "I only came down for some breakfast, I didn't mean to interrupt anything." Minato offered, but Ryoji waved it off, "Don't worry, this works out great for me! I need to talk to the both of you, anyways." Which, got a suspicious look from Yukari as she squawked, but he added, "But it's okay! Nothing bad's going to happen." Not that it helped soothe her. "Why did you need to talk to us both?" She asked, "Why are you so hostile about it?" Minato asked her in return, getting his own glare from her.

He simply returned the evil look, his deadpan expression not shifting an inch, even as she asked, "Oh what, I just trust the immortal helper of the god who's keeping me trapped here?" and while her reasoning was sound, her sharp tone dug at Minato yet again. So he once again turned to his usual sass with her. "I mean, what's your other option? Try to bolt out of the door again? Because that worked so well the first time."

Thankfully, before she could smack the midnight-haired sacrifice, Ryoi caught her hand. His laugh a bit tense while he tugged Yukari further from Minato, "Chill out you two, I promise there's no need to fight over this. I'm not throwing anyone to the wolves, or implementing some form of torture." He assured, "I only wanted to tell you both at the same time that I've gotten permission to take some of my leave. So, you two will be here alone for the most part, but I'll come back to feed and water you." "Oh great, so we're like gerbils-" Yukari paused. Minato able to see the ideas in her brown eyes as she looked back at Ryoji, "Wait, you're leaving us alone? What about you being, like, a guard though?" she asked, the taller brunette giving a bit of a nervous laugh at her surprise. "Well, I mean...you won't just be here unsupervised with the doors open, y'know? That's asking for creeps to get in, or for you two to get out and freeze to death, or get kidnapped, or attacked by animals. In short, yeah no, Thanatos obviously isn't letting me leave you guys unprotected." And like a house of cards, Yukari's expression fell.

And, Minato couldn't deny that he felt bad for the girl. He may not have wanted to go back to the village that threw him to the wolves, but he recognized the pain that replaced the hope in her eyes. He'd felt a similar way when he'd woken up in the hospital after the crash.

However, the sacrifice mentally shoved that sympathy back down. No! No no, Ryoji is probably fucking Thanatos, getting attached to him is acceptable. Yukari is a bitch. She'll bolt at the first opportunity, she doesn't fucking like me. Quit feeling bad for her. He scolded. Taking a deep breath before zoning back into Yukari and Ryoji's conversation. Only to finally register that the taller of the brunette duo was looking at him. "Huh?" "You didn't catch a word of that, did you?" Ryoji laughed, making the sacrifice scowl a bit before he continued. "I was saying that before I go, I'll need to lock you in your rooms and leash you to the bed. Do you understand, Funeral lily?" "Oh, yeah, whatever." He hummed, shrugging it off. Which seemed to throw Yukari for a second, but instead of nagging him for it, she shook her head with an annoyed huff.

Ryoji, though, smiled brightly at his compliance. Giving the grumpy man a quick hug before he continued, "But! Until I leave, you two can roam around freely, I promise! So, how about we take advantage of that freedom and have some breakfast, hm?" before herding Minato and Yukari back to the kitchen and the breakfast he prepared.

Yet, regardless of the food's flavor, Minato ate it. For no real reason but to watch each of Yukari's plans flick in her warm brown eyes like movie screens. As well as talk to Ryoji for the morning. Though, once his food was gone and the conversation had dwindled, he returned to his room once more. Content to melt into the mattress and watch whatever tv shows or Christmas specials came on. Even if some part of him found it a bit repetitive.

However, the curse of a woman out in the hall interrupted that plan. God damn it, is Yukari gonna try to bolt out the door again? He thought with a sigh. Rolling his grey eyes before he pulled himself out of bed to trudge over to the door and look out.

Sure enough, the brown-haired girl was creeping down the gothic hallway. Past the pale vases of colorful, plastic flowers and gorgeous paintings. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got nuts at least. “Yukari, what are you up to?” He asked. Watching the girl jump a bit and whip around to look at him like a deer in headlights for a brief second before she relaxed. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m not going to sit here like a trained bitch.” She hissed back. Spitting the last word out like a poisonous barb at him, but he swallowed down the urge to return that poison and only blinked at her. “You’re being stupid, is what I think.” He stated blandly, “Do you even know where Ryoji is?” “He’s in the shower, I checked.” alright, fair I suppose. “And what’s your plan? Run out the door a second time? Go out the back and try to climb the brick wall? Try to dig your way out?” “I’m gonna try something, I don’t want to be tied to a damned bed!” She argued, throwing it into his face as if she expected him to react to her words. And, when reiterating Ryoji’s plan back to him didn’t get more of a reaction than his usual look, she barred her teeth at him. But, she let the conversation die there in favor of continuing her way down the stairs

Minato ended up trailing after the woman without another word between them. Playing as her shadow while she circled the cold brick wall that enclosed the snow-layered garden. “Is there a fucking reason you’re following me around? Are you looking for evidence to report to Ryoji?” She asked, spinning on her heel to fix the shaggy-haired sacrifice with yet another one of her dirty looks. “No.” he hummed, his casual tone offering little to soothe the melancholy anger in her face. “There’s not much else to do but follow you around, or sit and watch tv.” “Then go watch tv!” “Nothing good’s on.”

Yukari screamed through her teeth at that. Spinning on her heel without a further word to return to scouring the yard for some crack in the bricks, or tunnel hidden in the long dead fauna. Minato, meanwhile, hung back to watch her go for a moment longer before he finally decided to finally go defrost from the cold.

And, not too long after he’d left the girl, Ryoji poked his head into the living room, where the sacrifice had settled with a grilled cheese and a cup of hot cocoa. “Hey there, funeral lily, where’s Yukari?” he asked. His hair damp and hanging in his face, and somehow, his soft face and vibrant eyes were even prettier than before. “Oh, uh, she might still be outside.” Minato hummed, blinking a bit to bring his focus back to the conversation. Not the mental image of the man naked in the shower, rubbing soap over his soft body beneath the warm water- “Minato? You still with us, space cadet?” Ryoji hummed, suddenly leaning on the back of the velvety couch instead of the doorway. Bringing with him a cloud of sweet florals and honey from his soaps, and a casual smile. As if his suspenders weren't hanging from his pants, his button-up wasn’t open, and the shaggy-haired man wasn’t replaying their time together in his head. I need to jump this bastard again.

But, for now, he shoved those thoughts away. “Why wouldn’t I be?” the sacrifice asked instead. Doing his best to be as casual as he could be while an alluring mix of honey and flowers seemed to aim to seduce all the conflicted emotions it could out of him. His companion, meanwhile, only shrugged, “You looked a little spaced out is all, anyways! Did you bury Yukari alive?” He asked, only for his smile to drop when Minato shook his head, “Wait. So, she’s outside alone?! Fuck!”

And, before the midnight-haired man could explain any further, or suggest a second bath, with him included this time, the brunette was out of the room. Leaving him in a rolling boil of lewd thoughts and those usual barbed questions that always came up. Which, Minato took as his sign to move his grilled cheese and hot chocolate up to his room. Where, for the rest of the day, he stayed. A choice he soon thanked himself for when he heard Yukari and Ryoji fight from the top of the gothic home’s stairs. So, instead of getting tangled up in that, Minato made a beeline for his room and just sat in bed and watched TV once more.

Not that there’s much else to do around here. He mused when the daylight shifted from the sunny glow of afternoon to the warmer gold hues of later hours. A fitting transition. As, like the darkening sunbeams, his thoughts began to drift into darker hues. Maybe Yukari’s got a point...can I live like this? Spending my days watching TV and sitting inside all the time? Ryoji’s fun to sleep with, but the best-case scenario for me is that he is just a god’s assistant. Should I be okay with living on a leash until the day I die?

It wasn’t a fun train of thought to chew on. It was bitter and dug into the roof of the sacrifice’s mouth like a goathead. Not helped by the mixture of guilt and disgust it dredged up from the depths of his ignored feelings. Is this all it takes for me to submit to living in a dress? Captive for a stranger god? A nice house and a pretty captor? What the hell am I? The dumb protagonist of a paranormal romance story? Yet, at the same time that those thoughts had been dug up, other sour thoughts leaked out of their jars. Images of what memories he had of his parents, the crash, the family, and the institutes he bounced between. The dirty looks of others in town, the whispers, the avoidance. They joined in on the skeleton dance in his head.

With a firm shake of his head, Minato tried to disperse the horrible memories and the slurry of emotions they brought with them. Only for them to creep back in like the tide over the sand. Shit. Arisato, stop it. Think of something else. Think of fucking Ryoji again! He ordered in an attempt to distract himself as his fingers tangled in his shaggy hair and he pressed his palms into his eyes to try to force the tears that welled up in his eyes away.

But, a knock at his door interrupted his impending breakdown, soon followed by Ryoji’s voice. “Mina? You decent?” “Uh, give me a moment.” He called back, quick to try and wipe away any sign of emotions before he got up to let his companion into the room. “Hello again,” He chirped as he came in. The smile on his face that of a dog excited for a walk, which, almost awoke a pang of bitter jealousy in the male sacrifice. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt more than a blip of joy. Yet, even then, it was never as strong as the excitement that glowed in Ryoji’s eyes.

Yet, Minato stomped that feeling down with the rest. “Sorry if I’m interrupting, but the sun’s going down, so I wanted to pop in and make sure you’ve eaten, taken your medicine, y'know. All that. Also! Explain that, because you’ve been here so long, I got permission from Thanatos to leave you untied in here! Of course, your room will still be locked, just to be sure, but you’ll have free reign of the room!” The brunette hummed, a sunny smile on his face as he hopped back to his feet. “Of course, if you try to take advantage of this, I will find out, and I will come back to catch you and tie you to the bed.” “You don’t have to threaten me to tie me up, Ryoji.” Minato snorted. The bark of laughter he got for his blunt flirtation a lovely sound after his earlier thoughts. “Behave yourself, Funeral lily. I’m too busy tonight to play.” The brunette scolded with a laugh as he headed for the door. And, while the midnight-haired sacrifice gave a light-hearted boo, he let the man shut and locked the door for the night.

With the door locked, and no plans to go a second round with Jack Frost, Minato kept to his word. He crawled into bed as the evening darkened outside to try and sleep the encroaching night away. Which, wasn’t a hard task under his plush, crimson comforter in such a comfortable bed.

So, before he knew it, he was jolting awake to the sound of a distant crash. Either downstairs, or in Ryoji’s bedroom. I guess Ryoji’s back. He thought as he buried his face in his pillow, That, or Yukari’s throwing a fit. Either way, the man curled up under his comforter and tried to let the infomercials lull him back to sleep.

But, when he heard his doorknob start to shake, he shot straight up in bed. His senses were immediately on high alert as he sat up in bed and scanned the dark room for an explanation. His heart thundering in his ears and time felt sluggish and thick. Yet, at the same time, those attempts to open his door continued.

Upon that second rattle of the nob, Minato’s body finally kicked into gear. Throwing his blanket off of himself to get to his feet. His storm-grey eyes widening at the light clicks of his door’s lock undoing. Whatever time Minato had to hide, was dwindling.

So, thinking quickly, the sacrifice squirmed beneath his bed. Oh god, this is so stupid. This is such a cliché hiding spot! He chided himself, yet, before he had any chance to bolt for the balcony doors, his bedroom door unlocked. And, from beneath the bed, Minato could do little else but try to keep his breathing quiet and watch as not only Yukari’s shoes, but those of strangers came into his room. Four pairs in total, plus Yukari. “Are you sure there’s another sacrifice here?” A man asked, only to get a hiss as one of his companions likely spotted the disheveled bed. “Oh, shit.” he breathed, before he spoke in a louder voice, “Hey, miss! Don’t hide, it’s okay.” “Minato’s a guy,” Yukari provided as she opened the balcony doors to look down to the distant trees and brush. “A guy? I thought women were the only ones sacrificed from your town.” He said back, and, some dark part of Minato wanted to snort at that assumption. But, he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut and only watched the feet shuffle around his room. One of the people checking in his bathroom, someone heading out to check other rooms. As well as another checking within his dresser, as if Minato could squish into the drawers.

Maybe checking under the bed is so cliché this’ll work? The hopeful part of the male sacrifice suggested in the back of his mind. Yet, as if that thought had given him away, a pair of shoes came over to the side of his bed to pat the bundled-up blankets before a face appeared to the side of Minato to look under the bed. “Oh! I found him!” He called, while the midnight-haired sacrifice wiggled away from him. “Hey, wait! We’re here to help you! You don’t need to be afraid!” The hat-wearing man said, grabbing his ankle to tug him back before the sacrifice swat at him. “No! Fuck off!” Minato snarled while Yukari huffed, “Look, he likes it here, can we leave him? Before the keeper comes back?” scolded by a gruffer man, “Of course not. If he’s got Stockholm syndrome, then he especially needs our help.” which, got another huff.

While they discussed what to do, though, Minato took stock of his new situation. Under his bed, surrounded by Yukari at the foot, a wall behind him, and two strangers on either side of it. God I should’ve jumped off of the balcony. A broken ankle would be better than this. Should I try to bolt for the balcony while they’re talking?

Yet, before he could decide, the man who’d grabbed his foot and injected something into him. “The hell was that?! What did you do?!” Minato snapped, but the tall man only sat by the side of the bed with the others. They had cornered Minato under the bed. Likely drugged. “Ryoi?! Ryoji!” Minato called, squishing himself to the wall, “Who’s Ryoji?” the first voice asked, and while Yukari explained, Minato’s mind scrambled for a way out. Only for the drugs to eat his thoughts and energy. Shit...Wait, no...don’t… Before he could even finish the thought, his vision dimmed to black.

[josiebelladonna]

cataloguing blood and chocolate onto my thumb drive and I have been bestowed with insight into why I have such a good-sized hatedom on here and on ao3, to the point I was starting to get depressed, too.

my writing is inflammatory. my emotions are intense and based on reality. and not only that, but reader inserts have scrambled everyone’s brains to the point where a first-person perspective is treated as like just another insert: someone from this trove can read blood and chocolate not realizing that it’s Eric narrating and yet they think “I would never do that!”

somewhere along the way, everyone forgot that not everything needs to be ~relatable~ and sometimes it’s fun to be twisted and offensive (albeit in a tasteful way). but i’m outnumbered. plus, i’m seen as this delusional nut job even though no one knows the full story of what goes on. it’s not okay to write fic about your crush on Alex.

it’s the same narrative from when Ben was in the picture. I get screamed at and i’m once again traumatized. people hear “things” about me and they don’t even take the time to understand me and where i’m coming from. people just hate me from a first glance. I wouldn’t judge you for your sexuality, your beliefs, or how you roll, why the fuck are you people judging me?

honestly, a big part of me doesn’t even want to bother with posting fic anymore. i’ve already given up on updating because I hate writing on my ipad and I have to transfer it over to my laptop, which is a hassle… I also don’t really trust ao3 anymore. Crashing every 2-3 days? I can’t do this (and the otw needs to be more specific because “few months” to set up new servers doesn’t tell me anything: it could be by the summer, it could be by Christmas. It’s like when a recipe tells you to cook something for a “couple of minutes”, do you mean two, or…?). If there’s a new replacement for ao3, i’ll look into it and then decide from there whether I want to bombard everyone with my nonsense.

With my own bullshit, I don’t actually see fandom as a whole lasting longer than five years, and I feel I’m being generous with that, too. Authors are hostile, everyone in bandom hates my guts, everyone treats it like a business rather than making it because you’re a fan or that you have a crush that you have a hard time talking about—your goddamn precious reader inserts will age horrendously, because they’re written for the intent of reaching an audience, which is a businesslike approach, that’s probably why I can’t stand them; in fact, they already look bad just from that fact alone—and if that poll I answered and reblogged is anything to go by, it’s that no one wants to do anything anymore (>40% of fans, the majority, are either all about interacting or doing nothing, compared to one-third actually doing something like writing fic or making art, that hurts my head to think about).

I think i’m just going to take everything i’ve written and take it all offline. updates will be kept to myself—though i’ll find a way to mail copies to the 1 or 2 people reading my shit, and I really mean that, too. Save myself the tears. I feel i’ve left a trail of destruction in the Alex tag on here. i don’t know how anyone could look at it, at all the things I’ve done, and think of anything good about it. really, I feel guilty about it. “Delusional” is never a compliment, tiktokers, if anything, it’s one of the last things you ever want to be called. You may as well be called “ugly” or “gross” or “undesirable” (seriously, I thought “stan” was bad).

you wanna know something else? When I joined squidgeworld back in November, I saw that someone had already begun a testament tag on there. I didn’t even look, but I knew right away that it was from the fans who can’t stand me and want nothing to do with me. They bailed from ao3 because of me.

it’s the same narrative from when Ben was in the picture. hell, it’s the same narrative that’s been following me my whole life, actually. being fiery and inflammatory is just not okay, and telling me to “be myself” doesn’t help, even though I see the point of that.