#there's just so much to this fic I can sit here and provide commentary all day haha

[basilone]

PLEASE FEEL FREE KILLY to provide snippets/commentary/whatever you wish about ‘The Burning House’; consider me already intrigued!!! <3 thank you!

Love how The Burning House immediately had people going 👀 at me today, haha!

One of the fun parts of this project for me is that I get to move the scope of the narrative beyond just WWII. Half of this story is set in late 50s Berlin, at the height of the Cold War but before the Berlin Wall is built, and it's been really interesting to do research into that. Working with Ron on one side as an American officer made warden of Spandau Prison and with Tatiana on the other side serving as a Soviet liaison officer allows me to highlight so much of that American-Soviet divide that was going on in those years. There is a really stark difference in how they approach post-war life, which offers a lot of commentary on rebuilding and trauma in particular that I can't wait to sink my teeth into.

Another thing I'm superexcited about is getting to highlight the role of Soviet women in WWII and beyond through Tatiana, who is by all rights a very gutsy young woman turned wartime leader but left to flounder in the years following the war. Her worldview, her war experiences, her post-war struggles, etc. are all very much rooted in the research I did into these real-life women who rose to the occasion during the war but grappled immensely with their homecoming afterward. Tatiana has truly brought herself to life in these past years, and I can't wait for you all to get to know her properly.

For now, a small excerpt from the Berlin section (below the cut):

The bedroom is shrouded in near-darkness. Ron holds out a hand to stop the door from slamming against the wall. He swung it open with too much force behind the motion. Half-expected her to have locked it, somehow, with a key only she would have managed to find. Half-expected her to have disappeared, even though she would have balked at the height of the drop from window to ground. It’d still have been like her to try. And it’s not that he hasn’t considered the possibility of her staying, but the sight of her silhouette still gives him pause. Her head is in her hands. Ron can tell that much, even from this distance between door and mattress. The small lamp on the stool beside her illuminates her arms and crowns her hair with gold. Her knees are almost drawn up to her chest. There’s no indication that she’s heard the door open at all. He steps into the bedroom. Allows the door to click shut behind him, taking all of the living room’s light with it. Still she doesn’t respond. The quiet stretches out into the inky swathes of shadows that coat a part of her in deepest midnight blue. She doesn’t look up, even though the floorboards creak beneath his feet as he moves closer to the mattress. Her head remains in her hands. Her shoulders tremble slightly with each breath. There’s a small hitch in her inhales that leaves his own throat feeling strangely thick and parched, as if she’s taking all the air with her in that sound.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Flaming Hearts

My Navigation and Masterlist

Pairing(s): Void Stiles x Phoenix!Fem!Reader Summary: You were always treated like an outcast by the pack. When the nogitsune takes over Stiles's body, he shows you how good being the outcast can feel Warnings: smut, pwp, mean McCall pack, EXTREME OVERSTIMULATION, fingering, cunnilingus, praise kink (tehe), eye contact, vaginal penetration, masochistic Void (kinda for like half a scene), sweet Void, commentary during the deed which is lowkey cringe in some spots my bad y’all, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, reader is not on birth control, Void lowkey baby trapping reader, a lil manipulation but like not bad, updated to have no use of (y/n), I think that’s it lmk if there's more. MINORS CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU KNOW THE WARNINGS YOU’VE READ THEM A THOUSAND TIMES. Word Count: 10,086

This was a very self-indulgent fic and I’m not sorry.

Pt 2 will be linked here when done.

BRO IS BEAUTIFUL WHAT

(GIFs are by @scuddish thank you scuddish for your wonderful contribution)

Life was cruel, but it made up for it with gifts.

You were new in town, a transfer student, living in a single bedroom apartment that was provided for you by your mother as well as helped by the government of Beacon Hills. You’d felt a calling to be here for the longest time and you were relieved your mom let you go. All throughout the first two weeks of your time attending the new school, you were desperately searching for friends or somewhere to fit into with no luck. On one extremely anxious day, you escaped your class to go to the girl’s locker room and break down there.

Until you saw two boys in there. The shock of two boys being in the Female locker room was enough to shake you out of your panicked state and make you wipe the tears from your eyes. With your vision no longer blurred, you could see the claws on his hands and the intense sideburns and fangs.

When once brown eyes turned a bright glowing amber, your body decided that was too much.

And you fainted.

The pack took you in after that - almost as an apology for making you faint - and allowed you to join their group since you knew about the supernatural now. They let you sit with them, invited you to sleepovers - Allison and Lydia mostly but Scott and Isacc surprisingly asked once. You were so happy to finally find a place that you fit in.

Except they never really let you join completely. No trust other than friendly-non supernatural related matters trust was placed in you despite the continuous ways you proved yourself. Being human, you were outcasted in the group of outcasts. Stiles was human but he was the brains. He discovered things no one else could, he was the detective of the group.

You were more like an emotional support human that was only needed like 2% of the time.

Noah Stilinski, the sweetheart that he is and despite his son’s deepest complaints, took over your living situation and let you stay with them for the year while you attended school at Beacon Hills.

Perfect fucking precious Stiles. He was infinitely the worst one in the group. At first he just avoided you at all costs until his dad decided to room you in the same house as him. Ever since, he’d been sending you glares anytime you were in his visibility and would blame you for the simplest of things despite obviously being the cause of them. He was so hard to get along with. Seeing how he acted around everyone else besides you and how everyone else acted around each other made everything worse. You knew you couldn’t leave because of Noah’s insistence to stay here and your mother not paying for housing anymore since she knew of your improved situation.

You also didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave these people. The only friends you can remember having. Those who, despite how they cast you out, have treated you decently well, at the very least sometimes, and took you in at your most vulnerable moment.

Stiles just seemed to hate you for whatever reason.

You sighed as you walked through the front door to the Stilinski household. A sigh escaped your mouth as the door closed behind you.

You called out into the house to let anyone home know of your presence. “I’m back!”

The house was eerily quiet and no response hit your ears. You shrugged it off with the thought of all occupants just being out and were a bit relieved you could have the house to yourself for a bit. They barely let you off on your own. Even now when you spent your time out of the house, you were accompanied by Lydia.

You shrugged your rain coat off your shoulders and took off your muddied boots, not wanting to track it into the house and have an excuse for Stiles to hate you even more. Your bones ached from the long day, having been running around all day trying to do whatever you could to help find Stiles. He had been missing for a while and the group barely filled you in on what was happening, just giving you the quick and vague summary about a nogitsune and a missing Stilinski.

With a sigh, you plopped down onto the living room couch and leaned your head on the back cushion. Your eyes closed and you took a moment to just listen to the quiet around you, the only sound the pitter patter of the pouring rain on the roof and windows. It was calm, peaceful even. You couldn’t remember a time where your life wasn’t a chaotic mess since meeting the pack. You sunk more into the cushions and pulled your knees to your chest while grabbing the TV remote and switching it to your favorite channel.

It was all so dark. So dark yet so comforting. Calloused fingertips caressed your forehead and brushed the hair out of your face. You could feel yourself being brought out of the heavenly ignorant bliss the darkness gave you and groaned in complaint. The fingertips stilled on your hairline, slowly retracting and you let out another sound of complaint.

A soft chuckle that sounded familiar but just out of reach for your sleep hazed brain echoed through the room. You felt yourself slipping back into the darkness when the familiar voice spoke.

“They don’t treat you very well do they, dove?”

Your eyes opened almost hesitantly and when you saw the voice’s face you gasped.

There he was. Stiles Stilinski in the flesh, and yet he seemed so different. His skin was paler, his eye bags sunken in and were a light purple. He looked… hot.

You shook that thought away the moment it popped into your head.

His hand, now resting on your cheek with a gentle grip, was feverish, almost to the point of uncomfort, but not quite.

And then you realized.

It was Stiles.

“Oh my god! Stiles what the hell?” You shot up to sit straight but his hand holding your cheek quickly traveled to your throat and he forced you back down, not holding enough to restrict air flow or hurt, but enough for you to get the message not to move. That and the glare he gave you. A sound of surprise sounded from your mouth unwillingly. “Um.” your eyes traveled from his unnaturally dark eyes to the wrist of the hand wrapped around your neck. “Okay, haha, you’re really funny but you can let go now.” You tried to laugh it off and deescalate the situation despite your growing weariness.

“Now why would I do that, when you look so pretty wearing my hand as a necklace?” He tilted his head and his eyes ran over your body slowly, seeing you shift under his gaze and his smirk growing with each movement.

“Wha- huh?” That was about all the words you could say, nothing coherent coming out of your mouth as you weren’t sure if you were flustered, annoyed, or turned on.

Maybe it was all three.

“Stiles, stop messing around. Everyone has been worried sick about you, they’ve spent the last 2 days searching for you nonstop. We need to call Scott and let him know you’re here and okay.” Although ‘okay’ doesn’t seem like the correct term. Sure, Stiles seemed unharmed, despite the obvious lack of sleep showing on his face - although that was relatively normal for him and his insomnia - but his tone, posture, and manners were way different. It almost seemed as if he had become a different person overnight.

He chuckled again, even his voice seemed deeper. Darker. “Oh I’m sure Scott knows exactly how I’m doing, considering I was at school earlier today. Oh… wait, they didn’t tell you, did they?” His face shifted into a mocking pout. “Poor little dove, outcast even in a place surrounded by people of supernatural abilities. The outcast of the outcasts. A fitting title don’t you think?” His words stung a little but it was nothing you yourself hadn’t already thought of. Him saying it just confirmed your thoughts.

“I mean, they don’t trust you at all. Despite everything you have put yourself through to prove yourself to them, they’ve just pushed it all to the side just because you’re different.” You were getting sick of him taunting you, just approving everything you’ve been telling yourself for the past two months. You rolled your eyes in annoyance and, fed up, you raised your hands to his wrist and tried to pry it off your neck. As soon as your fingers touched the skin of his hand - with a speed you barely saw - he removed his hand from your neck, using both hands to grab your wrists and pin them above your head to the couch’s armrest. He smirked at your dumbfounded expression and shocked stutters.

“You see, I’ve been watching it for a while now, the faltered smiles when one of them would make a comment to the group and cast you out. When they talked about their plans at lunch when you weren’t sitting with them yet and immediately shutting up when you got into ear shot. The way when even you don’t know, they are always following you, always watching. Making sure you were being a good girl.” He smirked once again and shifted your hands to be held by only one of his. The, now freed, hand forced your curled up legs to straighten and then he moved to straddle above you. You were pretty sure your eyes could just pop out of their sockets by how wide they were. His face dipped down and he pressed his nose to your jugular, his lips just barely touching your skin and lightly brushing against it when he talked again.

“But you’ve always been a good girl, haven’t you?” Your breath caught as his teeth lightly skimmed over your neck, canines feeling more elongated and sharper than normal. A shiver went down your spine as his tongue peeked out and slid up your neck until he was right next to your ear.

“Will you be a good girl for me now, dove?”

A whimper almost escaped your bite swollen lips at the pet name, your cheeks heating up and a warmth swirling in your core. “S-Stiles, what’s gotten into you?”

He growled and bit down on your neck harshly, making you release a yelp before it transformed into a muffled moan as he smoothed his tongue over it. “Don’t. Call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?” You asked, so confused by everything that was happening. Confused on why Stiles was acting this way, confused by why he wouldn’t call Scott, confused on why now of all times your attraction to Stiles had to come out.

You’ve always thought Stiles was attractive. The muscles he hid underneath his baggy flannels, the short glimpse you would see whenever he took his lacrosse jersey off after practice or a game before heading to the locker rooms, and that pretty face that haunted your dreams. Now, it seemed the attraction was even worse because of this new arrogant, cocky, full of himself, and confident attitude. He wasn’t pretty anymore, he was bewitchingly hot.

It also didn’t help that something unmistakable was poking your lower stomach.

“That’s not my name.” He said before quickly positioning himself to be kneeling on the couch in front of you between your legs, your thighs wrapped around his waist and his clothed erection so close to your heat a soft whimper escaped your mouth against your will. He grabbed your neck again, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he smirked and jutted his hips forward.

A gasp that quickly turned into a moan left you and you struggled against his grip on your hands as your cheeks heated, embarrassed by the sounds you were making. You didn’t necessarily want him to stop, you just wanted to cover your mouth so no sound would come out.

As if he could read your thoughts, he spoke. “Oh no no. You’re not going to hide those pretty little noises from me. In fact,” he leaned his face in close, your noses touching and lips inches apart. “I’ve decided I’m going to make you unable to stop making them.” His lips met yours as he thrust his clothed sex against yours again, swallowing the moan that left your mouth. He grinded against you, teasingly slow and you could feel his lips turning into a grin as you tried to quiet your whimpers and moans.

Just as his hand managed to unbuckle your pants, your phone rang from the kitchen counter. Stiles broke the kiss and stared at you with an outraged and lust filled look. He let you get up to go answer the phone with an eye roll.

It was Scott.

“Hey Sco-”

His frantic voice panically calling your name cut you off. “Where are you?”

“Uh, I’m… at home? Or- shit, not my home, the Stilinski home.”

A short sigh of relief was heard through the phone. “Okay, good. Stay there. Lock the doors and windows, do not let anyone in. Absolutely no one, do you understand me? No one! Not until we tell you it’s safe.”

“Scott, it's a bit late for that. Stiles came home a while ago, I’m not sure when bu-”

“Stiles is with you?” Scott’s voice yelled through the phone and you winced before replying.

“Yeah we’ve been… in the living room for the past 20 minutes or so.”

“Get the hell out of there,” Scott said sternly with a bit of fear and anxiety mixed in.

“What? Why?”

His voice broke a little as he spoke your name with a fearful tone. “That’s not Stiles.”

A hand landed over your mouth just as you were about to say something else while another gently took the phone from your grasp. The shock and slight fear of the situation took over both your flight and fight senses, leaving freeze as the only option. Stiles, or not-Stiles, brought the phone up to his ear as Scott shouted through it, his every word stated clearly despite being heard through the phone when not on speaker.

“Sorry, Scottie. Why don’t you call back later? Your girl's a little busy right now.” With that, he hung up.

You turned around slowly only to have Stiles, or not-Stiles, standing inches away from you with a massive evil grin shaping his face. You took a step back only to realize you had no room because of the kitchen counter. Not-Stiles took a single step forward and then grabbed the counter on either side of your body, trapping you. He stuck his face into your neck again, breathing deeply before speaking.

“And here I was wanting to drag it out for a while longer.” He leaned back and looked you straight in the eye with the most genuine smile you had seen from him all night, if not ever. “But alas, not today.” He raised his hand and swiftly brought it down to a pressure point on your neck, knocking you out instantly and catching you with a soft grip as you fell. “Until next time, dove.”

A violent shake and iron tight grips on your biceps violently woke you up, Allison standing above your lying position on the Stilinski couch and looking at you with frantic panicked eyes that calmed when she saw you awaken.

“Oh thank god. You had me worried for a moment there.” She grabbed your hand and lifted you more harshly than you would have liked and you rubbed your wrist when she turned away. “Something’s going on. We need to go to Scott’s house, everyone is already there waiting for us.”

You knew better than to ask any questions. They would tell you what they would tell you and nothing more.

Looking around for your phone, you noticed it was nowhere to be seen and you remembered the events of last night.

Last night…

It had been a whole night since you had seen him. Since Scott had called.

Did they really take a whole night to come see you? To make sure you were okay?

The car ride there was silent and you could feel your anxiety rising the more the silence dragged on. A breath of relief left you as you saw Scott’s house pull up. Allison rushed straight into the house, leaving you behind without a second thought and you rolled your eyes to hide the pain it caused you.

When you entered the house, the chattering from the pack in the kitchen stopped abruptly and they all looked at you. Scott hesitated before he took a few steps toward you and brought you into an awkward hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay. We were all worried.”

You looked around once he let you go and almost scoffed. Oh yeah, they all look really worried. Didn’t have enough time to send someone over to make sue I was alive but they’re so worried.

Over time, they casted you out more and more and became more distant. You were completely left in the dust. Not even just for supernatural matter. Lydia and Allison stopped inviting you for sleepovers; Scott and Isaac stopped having lunch with you outside underneath the apple tree near the lacrosse field; Stiles, funnily enough, was the only one who stayed the same, if not lessened up on the glaring.

You heard a soft speaking from behind you and whipped around to see a sight that made you gasp.

There was Stiles. He was sitting on the couch with a piece of black tape covering his mouth with Melissa sitting next to him, her head in her hands. His eyes shone brightly when he caught sight of you and he tilted his head slightly to the side in a way that made you shift. It was like yesterday’s events were playing on repeat in his eyes and you couldn’t look away.

“I think it’s time we filled you in.” Scott said from behind you and it brought you out of the trance like state Stiles/Not-Stiles had you in.

“Yeah, you’re goddamn right it is.” You said and crossed your arms over your chest. Scott looked slightly shocked at your behavior and scratched the back of his neck. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “Don’t even. I am getting so sick of how you all treat me. I have proven myself over and over again and you all just refuse to believe that I am on your side. What do I have to do for you to trust me? Do I need to sacrifice a lamb for you to trust me, oh my Lord Jesus Christ?” The last sentence was uttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Your outburst left everyone temporarily paralyzed in shock - as you had barely ever raised your voice at them - before a loud, albeit muffled, cackle interrupted the odd silence. You didn’t even have to turn around to know the Stiles imposter was looking at the show with mirth filled eyes.

“We- we never meant-” Scott started.

“Oh shut up, now is not the time for your excuses. Not to mention you practically left me for dead last night after you called, Scottie.” You spat his name out with a venom coated tongue as you interrupted him again and rolled your eyes. “Just fill me in on whatever the hell has happened to Stiles so we can all move on in our lives.”

He nodded and started to tell you everything about the nogitsune, how he had taken over Stiles, how he had stabbed Scott, how he almost killed Kira. By the end of the story you were surprisingly not even phased, whether that be because your mind was used to everything being crazy in your life while involved with the pack or how you just didn’t care. It’s not like they ever treated you that well, sure they were your friends but they were your friends by convenience and force, not choice.

And Void, that is what the nogitsune possessing Stiles’ body was called, well, he was just something else. The events yesterday may be shifting your bias but it was undeniable. You had felt an attraction like never before during those short and blissful moments. It didn’t even feel like Stiles. You know that even if Stiles had ever done something like that, he would never have had the confidence like Void did. And it was a feeling that made you squirm in your seat on the kitchen stool.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you risked a glimpse behind to see Void already glaring into your eyes, his eyes darkened by a feeling you could only describe as complete and utter desire.

He wanted you. And if the chance were to come, who were you to deny him?

After 10 minutes of trying to figure out a plan and speaking in hushed tones to avoid Void hearing, Lydia had given in and called someone, you didn’t know who but it seemed everyone else did.

Once again they left you out. Even after you lectured them about how much they did that.

More waiting happened until the bang of the front door being slammed open interrupted your increasingly anxious thoughts. With a too gleeful expression for the situation on his face, the one and only Peter Hale stood in the doorway with his arms opened in a grand gesture.

You all gave him a deadpan stare.

He rolled his eyes and walked up to all of you, more specifically, to you. He tilted his head as he noticed your eyes. You turned your head to control yourself. When you were anxious, or just feeling any strong emotion, your eyes seemed as if the irises caught on fire. They were frighteningly beautiful.

And you hated them.

As your heart steadied and you raised your head back to the group again, Peter’s interested gaze had shifted away from you and to Lydia with a knowing look before walking to Stiles. As he crouched in front of him and inspected his state of being, he spoke. “He doesn’t look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf.” You assumed Lydia already filled him in on what the situation was and what the plan was.

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott asked anxiously as he picked at the skin around his fingers.

“This is more a war of the mind than the body.” Peter stood back up to his full height. “There are better methods to winning this battle.” The mischievous glimpse in his eyes made you worried about what these ‘better methods’ were.

“What methods are you thinking of?” the veterinarian, Deaton, asked, his expression also showing concern.

Peter turned to face the rest of you. “We’re going to get in his head.”

As soon as he said that, he walked toward Lydia and roughly grabbed her by the elbow. With her being right next to me, you instinctively reached out and grabbed the wrist attached to the hand holding her. Peter’s loud unbridled yelp of pain made you rip your hand off him and he cradled his wrist as you caught a glimpse of it.

It was completely scorched.

Your face morphed into one of horror as your eyes flicker between the burn marks on his wrist that were, thankfully, already healing and the ashes on your palm.

“Oh my god! What did you do?” Lydia screamed at you and panicked as she grabbed Peter's arm, careful not to touch the wound.

“I- I didn’t- I don’t-” You kept trying to speak but your mind was panicking and your body was overwhelmed with shock and fear. Fear of yourself.

“It’s quite alright Lydia.” Peter said after a second when his hand had healed for the most part, it seemed the wound looked much worse than it actually was and all that remained was a red handprint and some ashes.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what happened.” You held the hand you used to your chest as if to protect everyone else from it. Deaton walked up from behind you and put his hand on your shoulder before flinching away.

“Your skin is burning. Scott, get her some ice.” Scott rushed to the fridge and brought out an ice pack. He practically shoved it into your hands before pulling his hand away quickly. He tried to hide it but his eyes showed fear.

It hurt, seeing them all looking at you like that. They tried to hide it but they looked at you the same way they looked at Void. They looked at you like you were a monster.

The ice pack in your hands was such a contrast to your burning skin that it forced your brain to focus on its contrasting temperature until you realized it was melting through your palms. You quickly hid your hands and the melted plastic of the ice pack in your pockets before anyone could see.

Anyone besides the boy sitting on the couch that is.

Peter reached for Lydia again, slowly this time and much gentler than before. You didn’t even look at them as they walked away, choosing instead to just stand there with your eyes focused on the hand you burned the man with.

After a while, they came back to the group and you all migrated to the couch where Stiles sat. You avoided his eyes like the plague, knowing they were zoned in on your every move and smiling in delight when he knew he’d gotten to you with just his mere presence.

Lydia was seated on one end of the couch, Void the other, with Scott standing behind the couch in the middle of them. Peter moved Scott’s fingers to align with the correct place to connect them all into Stiles’ mind palace.

“So what do we do if we do find him?” Scott asked.

“You’re going to have to guide him out somehow…” Peter replied vaguely which caused Scott and Lydia to both become increasingly annoyed and you rested your elbows on your knees before holding your head in your hands.

“Could you elaborate on ‘somehow?’ It’s not feeling very specific at the moment.” Lydia sighed with a slight roll of her eyes.

Peter shrugged, “Improvise.”

“Mm. Improvise he says.” you muttered under your breath but everyone ignored you.

Everyone except the murderous brown eyes burning a hole through your skull.

“What if this is just another trick?” Scott worried.

The grown wolf groaned in annoyance and exasperation. “When are you people going to start trusting me?”

You scoffed, thinking the exact same thing.

Scott’s eyes flickered between you and the hyena before he said, “I meant him.” And pointed to the possessed body on the couch. You finally raised your gaze to watch the scene unfold and felt your heart settle into your lower region when you saw Void. His head leaned against the back of the couch, tilted to the side as his eyes were focused on you, an enchanting and hungry look settling in his eyes as they gazed at you. He gave you a slow once over and everything around you tuned out as you felt your body heat up and pool in your panties. You could tell, if the black tape covering his lips was off, he would be sporting a very arrogant smirk.

A synchronized gasp from all three members near the couch broke your gaze with him as his eyes closed and his head fully fell against the back of the couch, face now facing the ceiling.

You almost stood up to go to him before a sigh from Peter faltered your movements and he spoke.

“Now we wait.”

And wait you did. It seemed like time was not in your favor when everything your life had become to know as normal was at stake. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes, but to you?

It felt like hours.

Blood dripped down Lydia’s nose and Peter ran up to her, shaking her as he screamed at her to concentrate and that she was stronger than this.

Personally, you couldn’t draw your eyes away from Void. His breathing was soft, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed and chest rising and falling with each inhale and outhale.

Meanwhile another Hale was pissing you off.

Just as you were about to call him out for being too loud, A collective gasp from the two non-possessed members near the couch once again interrupted you.

Melissa rushed toward Lydia to help her and Scott took a few deep breaths before focusing all his attention to the Stiles look-alike. “Did it work?” He asked frantically. You sighed and rested your head against your knees, arms wrapping around your shins to hug yourself in disappointment, the anticipation disintegrating into the thin air.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Lydia stood up quickly and rushed to Peter, demanding answers he evidently couldn’t provide.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia, it’s supernatural.” Peter sighed before grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him menacingly and they spoke in hushed whispers before Void shot forward onto his knees to the floor.

Like a circus act, a seemingly unending length of fabric spit from Void’s mouth and he used both hands to pull it out. Unnerving moments went by as everyone watched before all the scarf-like material was out of his mouth and he scrambled back to sit on the couch again, panting with his head resting against the cushion and his eyes closed.

There was clattering and yells to the side but you just stood carefully and walked to where Stiles was sitting on the couch. You sighed in nervousness before touching his shoulder softly and attempting to comfort him since all the others of the pack were focused on the clump of fabric behind you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, everything will work out. Just calm down.” You went to pull your hand away as his breathing slowed but he reached up and grabbed it with a speed non-human. Your heartbeat started rising again as the realization dawned on you.

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a smirk and heavy lidded eyes. “You’re right dove.” He tugged on your hand and you fell forward into him, his free arm wrapping around your waist aggressively. Or was it possessively? “Everything will work out.”

You awoke in a cold concrete walled room, the only warmth over you being your clothes and a soft woven blanket that did a surprisingly good job at staving off the chill. A soft padded queen size mattress with no support laid underneath to separate you from the frigid floor. You couldn’t remember passing out but you knew exactly where you were.

Or rather, who you were with.

Getting a sense of deja vu, calloused fingertips traced over your forehead to your hairline before going back again in a figure 8 pattern.

Your heart beat rose and his fingers trailed from your forehead to your neck, right over your pulse. You opened your eyes and looked at him where he sat; he looked genuinely happy, in a sick, twisted way. Despite how comforting the smile was, it sent shivers down your back that you couldn’t tell were pleasant or not.

“Hi dove.”

His voice broke you out of the trance his hypnotizing eyes put you under every time. You sat up quickly and scooted away from him, falling off the bed - luckily not falling down far because of how low the mattress was to the ground - and looked at him with conflicted thoughts and emotions.

He looked faux surprised and hurt by your actions, standing up and walking toward you as you scrambled to your feet to get away from him. “What’s wrong? You were so enthusiastic about it earlier, what changed?” You gasped as your back hit the concrete of the wall and he cornered you, one hand going to rest against the wall next to your head and the other holding your waist under your shirt. His fingers against your skin felt incredibly hot compared to the cold seeping through your shirt from the wall. He leaned in to speak again and his breath hit your lips with every word. “I promise I won't bite.”

Liar.

He leaned into your neck but didn’t touch you, only letting you feel the heat emanating from his body but not the skin. He took a deep breath in and you had to bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to stop yourself from falling to his feet.

It hadn’t gone away. The undeniable urge to just jump his bones and feel more of that pleasure he seemed so willing to offer.

“But of course, it's no fun if you don’t consent…” he leaned back and the hand that was previously on the wall next to your head traveled to your neck which he tilted upwards to lengthen your neck and looked at you with a smirk and hungry eyes ready to devour you. “So why don’t you be a good girl and tell me how much you want this,” he leaned in and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, “I can practically hear you throbbing.”

A soft whimper left you when his hand on your waist drifted to tug your pants down the slightest bit but never went farther without you answering. A few moments of silence passed, only interrupted by your soft pants, and he sighed in disappointment, his grip on your neck and waist slowly being removed.

Your eyes shot open from their closed state, you didn’t stop to think about when they had closed, and you grabbed his hands before they could leave your body. He looked at you expectantly and you opened and closed your mouth like a fish a few times before answering him with a soft and whispered: “I want it.”

His grip returned to your skin but his hand tugging your pants traveled back to your waist to draw little shapes there, tickling you just the slightest bit. “Oh dove, I’m proud of you for trying, but that’s not what I want.” His hand around your throat tightened pleasantly. “I want you to beg.”

Your eyes widened and you forced your cheeks to cool and swallowed your pride.

“Please?” You tried, weakly.

“Oh I know you can do better than that. Try again.” He didn’t say it as a suggestion.

With a deep breath and your hand, still around the wrist grabbing your neck, tightening, you did what he wanted.

You begged.

“Please, please I want it. I do, please, just… just do something, please! Anything! Please… P-please.”

He had a pleased smirk on his face as he leaned in so you were only a few inches apart. You could feel his breath on your neck with every exhale.

“How much do you want?” He taunted.

“Everything. Whatever you'll give me.” You told him with a tone of desperation.

He smirked and looked at you approvingly before crushing his lips against yours in a brutal kiss that sent you to cloud 9. Your hands traveled to his hair and you pulled on it roughly as you kissed back with just as much fervor. You felt him groan into the kiss and you grinned, but it soon faded as a moan formed when he pressed his fingertips to your core through your pants.

“My, my. All this just from kissing? You flatter me.” He spoke against your lips in a low tone. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You were absolutely soaked. The moment he started walking toward you, you felt the warmth in your core building and it hadn’t stopped since. Your head fell back against the wall and Void kissed down your neck to your collarbone, leaving bruises and hickeys in his wake. Applying more pressure, he dragged his hand up your core, pausing momentarily to draw tiny intense circles to your clit before using his hand to skillfully undo the buttons and pull your pants down. He broke the kiss to kneel down before you and look you straight in the eyes as he dragged the pants down your legs excruciatingly slowly. You hadn’t noticed previously but now realized your shoes were gone.

Who would’ve thought Void wouldn’t want dirty shoes on the mattress. Huh.

He stood back up to his full height and looked down at you as he rubbed your heat over your panties. He studied every expression you made and committed them to memory. His expression soon changed to one of annoyance, angry at the lack of skin to skin contact between the two of you. He ripped the undergarment into pieces before taking a step back to strip off his shirt. He paused just as he was about to step to you again.

You squirmed under his gaze as he gave you a long once over and his eyes stopped on yours. Another emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t quite recognize, clouded over his lust temporarily. “What?” You asked self consciously and moved your hands to cover yourself, thinking he didn’t like your body.

Before your hands could even reach past your hips, he reached out and grabbed each wrist, ignoring your shocked gasp and pinned them against the wall beside your head. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. You’re insecure? You don’t think you’re attractive?” He taunted angrily. He pressed his lower body into yours, his rather large, clothed, erection pressing to your bare clit as he grinded it into you. You moaned and he leaned into your neck again, being much rougher than he was a minute ago. “Ya feel that? That is all you dove. You fucking did that to me. You do that to me wearing baggy clothes and no makeup. You do that to me fresh out of bed in the morning with your hair in knots. You’re doing that to me right now, trapped between me and the wall, a silly shirt covering your divine breasts and nothing else.” He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to draw blood and you let out a loud moan. “You’ll take responsibility for it soon enough.” He arranged your hands to touch and he grabbed them both with one hand, the other sliding down, spending time to caress your breasts and pinch your nipples through the thin shirt fabric. He moved lower and lower until he reached your heat and thrust two fingers in with no warning. Without even letting you adjust, not that you really needed to with how wet you were, he started pounding his fingers into you. You started moaning uncontrollably and struggled to get out of his grip to hold onto something. He humored you and released your hands. Immediately they fell to his shoulders and then wrapped around his neck to pull his face into your neck where he started to leave his love bites. He grabbed the back of your right thigh and lifted it, wrapping it around his waist which allowed him to hit deeper. With every thrust, he curled his fingers and they hit you right in your pleasure spot.

Soon enough you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. It built and built and you warned Void about what was incoming.

“Oh that’s right, cum on my fingers dove. Let me know who makes you feel this good. Stiles could never fuck you like this. He could never bring you to such pleasure. To the point where your every bone quakes and sings in an overwhelming amount of pleasure that I alone am giving you.” His grip on your waist tightened to the line bordering between pain and pleasure just as his thrusts sped up to a pace faster than you believed even possible.

“Cum.”

And you did just that. Your bones really did quake and sing with pleasure. Your body writhed and you thrust yourself against Void’s fingers, grinding yourself through your orgasm despite him not slowing down and riding you through too.

Your orgasm slowed down to a stop and you took a deep breath before another loud and unrestricted moan released during your exhale and you noticed Void had yet to stop or even slow down.

“Ah, st-slow do-down-! It’s-ah-it’s too much!” You begged and yet he just smirked and increased his pace.

“Oh sweetheart, isn’t this what you wanted? You told me you wanted everything, you wanted all of it.” You swallowed in a lust filled fear as he smirked even wider. “So darling, you are going to take all of it.”

He led you on to another orgasm by his fingers alone. Your puffy clit was begging for attention after being neglected for so long. When you reached your high, he slowed down and pulled his fingers out. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from whining at the emptiness. He brought his fingers to his lips and stared you straight in the eyes as he brought them into his mouth and moaned at the taste.

You blushed and tried to look away until his free hand came up to grab your jaw roughly and force you to face him as he licked and sucked at his fingers, prolonging your embarrassment.

When he was satisfied with how much embarrassment he could feel radiating off you, he pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop before he grinned. His hands gently placed themselves on each of your hips and he leaned in until your lips barely grazed each other’s.

“That little taste just makes me want to have more. Which reminds me, I haven’t had my dinner yet. Do you mind?” You tried to lean forward and kiss him but he just leaned his head back until you gave an answer. You nodded your head no and he grinned.

“There’s my good girl.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, so softly it distracted you from the hands on your hips traveling to your butt and quickly lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Without moving his feet an inch, the wall behind you suddenly disappeared and he threw you down onto the queen bed mattress. You landed with a small bounce.

You looked at him in shock and confusion but he just grinned and winked.

Teleportation. Huh. Must be a nogitsune thing.

He kneeled down in front of the bed and ripped your shirt off before grabbing your thighs to bring you to the edge. You yelped and stared as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, the backs of your knees curving over them. He gave another little wink before diving in.

You moaned as his lips finally gave attention to your clit and a shock of pleasure swarmed through your veins. Your head fell against the mattress and your eyes clenched shut when the euphoria became too much to your, still sensitive, core.

A loud slap and the stinging on your outer thigh caused you to flick your eyes open and look at the man between your legs.

“The next time you look away from me I will edge you for three new moons.” He spoke right against your cunt and you could feel the vibrations surging through your clit. With a moan, you nodded and adjusted yourself to lean on your elbows and look at him. He brought his tongue out to lick a long stride up your cunt and collected your slick in his mouth before going straight back into his meal.

You had no doubt he would stay true to his word if you looked away, so you kept your eyes firmly on him, despite every protest in your veins to close your eyes when it became too much.

When the coil in your gut built up again, he could feel you approaching your orgasm and looked you right in the eyes. You blushed and were so tempted to look away but he tightened his grip on your thighs in a warning.

You came again for the third time. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him but they fluttered shut every few seconds as he kept licking and sucking at your overstimulated clit.

When he seemed satisfied two mind blowing orgasms later, he climbed up your body, one of your legs falling to surround his waist while the other he kept suspended over his shoulder.

“You did so well. You’re such a good girl, following orders with no questions.” He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “They don’t deserve you, they never did.” He murmured against your lips before his head traveled to the curve of your neck and shoulder.

He took his pants and boxers off in no time, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds and over your clit.

Your mind was racing with too many conflicting emotions to comprehend: want, fear, lust, panic. You looked down and saw him.

He was big. Bigger than any guy you’ve ever seen, not that that was many considering you were a virgin.

“I am going to ruin you. No one else will ever be able to make you feel the way I do. Every time you cum from this point on will be from my body, no one else's.” He spoke menacingly while he watched in awe as your overstimulated clit twitched whenever he ran the head of his dick across it. The mushroom tip of his cock caught along your entrance through every glide up and down until he stopped and pushed it fully in.

“Wait, wai-ngh!” You tried but got interrupted by your own moan when he thrusted all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressed against your cervix in a mind blanking way. The sting of the stretch was there but was completely oversighted by the immense pleasure that came with it. You gasped at the feeling and wrapped your arms around his shoulder to scratch at his back. His back quickly covered in nail marks and marks of ash and burned skin.

You gasped in horror at the unwilled release of your fire until he moaned loudly - filled with both pleasure at the pain and entrance of your slick walls. Any sounds he had tried to hide completely spilled out. “Shit, keep doing that d-dove. Mark me all you want. Make me yours. F-feels so good; you’re so tight. Are you a virgin or something? You’re squeezing me to death, I don’t know how much longer I can take with you so tight around me.”

You froze at the accusation and turned your head the opposite of his, not answering his question.

A sigh escaped you when he started leaving kisses on your neck, slowly dragging out of your entrance before entering back just as slowly. An elongated moan left your mouth when he hit a certain spot on his way back in.

“Oh it’s alright my sweet girl. This just means I’m able to take another thing Stiles has been longing for. If only I was able to take your first kiss too.”

You almost missed what he said when he snapped his hips into yours harder and you sputtered unintelligible words at the movement.

“He-agh-he what?” You asked him as he left a soft bite on your clavicle.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think there was a corner of his mind that wasn’t filled with the idea of you. Poor little Stiles couldn’t stop imagining you like this.” He mocked. “He would’ve fucked you with your chest to the bed and you ass sticking up all nice and pretty but I don’t think you’d like that, would you sweet girl?”

Your heart skipped as he rose to look into your eyes. “No, I don't think you would.” He roughly snapped his hips to yours again before putting on a mock sympathetic look. “You want them to look at you as you’re getting pleasure you’ve never before received.” Another harsh thrust and you moaned loudly which he silenced by sticking two fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Your lips immediately wrapped around his and you grazed your teeth along the sensitive skin. He tasted like salt and your cum along with a hint of blood. “You want that skin to skin contact as they bring you within an inch of your life and back.” Another thrust. “You want someone to make love to you, no fucking around.”

You moaned especially loud at that. You didn’t want to lose your virginity for something that wasn’t going to mean anything. You’ve known Void for less than two days and yet you feel more connected with him than all the McCall pack combined. It seems he feels the same way from how he’s talking.

“I'm the one who took your first time, and I will be the one to look into your eyes as you receive the pleasure I am giving you; I will be the skin you feel against your own as I move inside you;” He paused for a second as he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, biting softly on the nub, and smiling as you whimpered in return. “I will be the one to make love to you.”

You grabbed the hand thats fingers were in your mouth and pulled them out before grabbing his cheeks between and pulling him into an aggressive kiss. You whimpered and moaned as he sped up, reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust. The hand that was once in your mouth traveled down your body slowly, smearing your saliva across your nipples as he played with them before settling against your clit. Just the slightest graze from his fingers made your spine arch up into his chest in anticipation and pleasure. He started rubbing figure eights into the pleasure bud, matching them with the pace of his thrusts.

Your lips opened in a moan and Void took the opportunity to shove his tongue against yours. He took control of the kiss instantly and rubbed his tongue along every inch of the inside of your mouth, exploring it like looking for treasure marked on a treasure map.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn’t drive his mouth away from yours, needing to breathe in through your nose every minute or so so you didn’t pass out. He pressed the fingers against your clit down harder as if to encourage you to cum and and you came beautifully. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced tonight if not ever. Your body was shaking in exhaustion after the multiple orgasm you’d received within the last 30 minutes, or was it closer to 2 hours? You weren’t sure but honestly didn’t care. You could feel by the way Void broke the kiss and pushed his head into the crook of your neck along with the tensing of his back muscles that he was nearing his orgasm as well.

Then it occured to you, this whole time he was using no protection.

And you weren’t on birth control.

“N-no-agh-you gotta pull o-out. ‘Might get pre-ngh-pregnant. I’m not on birth c-control.” You focused all your energy on speaking despite the overwhelming overstimulating feeling of him driving his dick into your cervix and his thumb making you lose every thought that came to your head with his torturous but amazing touches.

He suddenly came to a complete stop inside of you. His dick twitched as the only sounds heard were your heavy breath and whines of complaint despite your better judgment.

“You’re not on birth control?” He asked into your neck, skimming his lips along your carotid artery.

“No.” You whispered.

You felt him grin that same evil grin you’ve seen before against your neck before biting down hard on your neck and withdrawing his hips from yours. You cried out at the feelings of pain and emptiness overflowing your senses.

“You don’t wanna have my babies, is that it?” He whispered into your neck with a tone that sounded almost heartbroken. You knew it was fake yet something in you just wanted to comfort him.

“N-no that’s not-”

He sat up abruptly, his cock now only half an inch in your entrance. The leg that rested on his shoulder fell to surround his waist with the other one and he sat back on his heels while grabbing your hips. His face looked so sad as he gazed down at you and yet his eyes seemed to hold a completely different emotion.

“Why not, dove? I’d give you everything.” His grip on your hips tightened and he slowly pulled your hips into his using only the strength of his arms. He slid back into you easily and his tip settled against a spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and mouth opening in a low moan. Void grinned as he saw your reaction before returning to the pitiful look as he drew his hips back out again. His lips quirked up the slightest bit as you whined out. Pulling your hips into his roughly, he kept you there as you moaned louder. “I mean, if you really want me to stop…” He slowly started retreating out of your warmth as he trailed off before your arms wrapped around his neck.

“No!” You yelled before whispering almost like an echo, “No.” You breathed heavily in his ear, sputtering as you tried to get the next sentence out with his tip prodding against your cervix ever so delightfully. “Please don’t stop, y-you just can’t c-cum inside.”

He thrusted roughly into you again and your arms lost all strength as the mind blowing pleasure took over your mind. He repeated that cycle. Slowly pull out, roughly snap back in. Over and over and over. It made you whimper and cry out every time, wishing he would just bring you to the ecstacy you’ve been nearing instead of leaving you teetering on the edge of relief.

“Oh you feel so good baby, gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He repeated like a mantra as his hips fastened and he pushed into you even harder.

Your mind was fogging over as you finally got the pleasure you needed to reach your orgasm. You barely had the strength to move your tongue and speak out your protests that were weakening by the second, you actually wanted his cum. You want it to be spilling out as you stand up, soaking your underwear as you walk around. You just were so scared of being pregnant. Your sister got pregnant when she was around your age. Your mother completely freaked when she found out and banished - yes, banished - her from the house forever.

Would Void stay? You still weren’t exactly sure what his intentions with you were. Was he going to kill you after this? Was he going to make you pregnant and leave you alone to raise the child on your own?

Apparently, Void could sense the onslaught of fear and panic creeping into your mind because he shoved his face into your neck and dug the pads of his fingers into your hips even harder. There was surely going to be a bruise the next coming day.

“Oh you’re going to look so good pregnant with my kids. God it just makes me so hard thinking about it. I wonder what they’ll look like, will they have your eyes or mine? God I hope they have yours so I can stare into them all day no matter where I am. This is the one thing I need to do to make you mine. You gonna let me make you mine, Dove? You gonna let me cum inside?” His pace slowed to a comforting, intimate pace. It brought you even closer to the edge just thinking he liked you enough to stay, maybe even loved you from how he was thrusting into you now.

You took a few moments to think about it before your mouth outran your thoughts. “Yes! Yes, Void, please. Please fill me up.”

He kissed your neck softly as his pace fastened again but still kept the intimacy from before. He pushed back the hood of your clit and started rubbing harshly on the overstimulated puffy bud of pleasure, making you lose all coherent thoughts and abilities to do anything but moan out his name. With a stuttered thrust, he pushed in all the way and came inside you. The feeling was enough to make you fall over the edge right with him. You both laid there in each-others arms while you tried to catch your breathing.

Void caught his a lot faster.

With a chuckle, and his dick as hard as when you started, he grabbed both of your legs, raising them so they were resting on his shoulders and he had you in the mating press and pressed your thighs against your breasts as he thrust into you with no reprieve. He pulled out of you before pushing back in, a torturously slow pace that made your body writhing and squirming. You gasped at the feeling and squirmed in his hold from the overstimulation. This new position made it so he hit your g-spot on every thrust in with no effort. As he brought one hand down to your clit again and rubbed so deliciously hard and slow, just like the pace he had set for his thrusts into you, you couldn’t take it anymore and came yet again. He had brought you to another orgasm in less than 2 minutes.

“Oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you, Dove? We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we baby? Gotta get you nice and knocked up with my kids. We can’t just stop now.”

With each slow thrust and the overstimulation, it didn’t take long before you came again and Void had the biggest smirk on his face as he watched you.

“V-void! P-ple-I can-can’t take anymore. I can't, I can't, I can't!”

He just laughed at you and your protesting words, capturing your hands that were weakly trying to push him away and forcing them to stay above your head where they were restricted of all movement. He pressed down even harder on your clit and you let out a yelp of a moan as you could feel another knot forming. “Darling, you don’t get to decide what’s too much. I'm in charge here, Dove, and you’re done when I say you’re done. You’ll take as much as I give you.”

His words turned you on so much more which surprised you as you didn’t think you could be any more turned on. You came once more and could tell by how Void’s face scrunched up in pleasure that he was reaching his limit as well. His dick pulsed inside of you, each vein had a throbbing heartbeat that struck so painfully good against your walls.

“One more, just one more, Dove. Give me one more.” He groaned out as he held his own orgasm back and rubbed rigorously at your clit while his pace increased to an unfathomable level. Finally, as you came yet again, Void released inside of you again.

He collapsed on top of you, his head landing on your chest, pillowed by your breasts. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth as his slick fingers resumed their torture of your extremely overstimmulated clit. They rubbed slowly but it felt so much more intense than all the previous times that he had brought you pleasure. It burned in the best way possible.

“One more, come on, I know you have one more in you.” He encouraged, again. It seemed like he would just never stop.

He was utterly insatiable.

You came once more for the final time of the night and Void rewarded you with kisses scattered all across your chest for all of your efforts.

With your eyes barely able to remain open. and your limbs drained of any energy, Void looked at you with a soft look and gathered you in his arms. He grabbed the blanket that had been kicked off during the time of your… activities, and covered the both of you with it.

With his cock still deep inside of you, keeping everything he spent trapped within you, he whispered, “Good night, Dove,” and pressed a kiss to your temple. That night, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling more safe and at home than you have ever been before.

[earl-grey-teacake]

omg hello! your brain is truly so big for this idea… george coaching logan lives rent free in my mind at all times and their minimal interactions bring me life fr 🥺🥺 now.. very important question.. WHO adopted logan first? alex as his current teammate or george as his long-time mentor? i also have this insane image in my mind of george making a powerpoint titled “7 step plan on how to win oscar’s heart / why he’s definitely in love with you don’t be stupid / we need to talk about your (lack) or self esteem” . yea there are three topics but alex has sighed deeply and provided snacks to keep them going. and also the idea of carlando adopting oscar?? it’s a very strange dynamic bc lando is so excitable he’s def not a parent figure and oscar and carlos are still squinting suspiciously at each others for sure. maybe the three of them are using their combined 8 brain cells to come up with a game plan for wooing logan? and they’re just sitting their arguing over flower symbolism and lando and carlos genuinely almost break up over how worked up they both get. i know this ask got out of control but bestie.. your mind is so large and i am obsessedddd w this idea

Hello! Thank you so much! Very happy to hear that the ideas my brain makes up in the middle of the night are appreciated!🥰

To answer your question, Alex adopted Logan first. I see George keeping his distance, close but still professional. Alex, as both an eldest sibling and having gone through 2021, is very sympathetic to Logan. He sees the spiraling, he understands being alone as your parents are dealing with their own issues, and he knows what it feels like to be left behind while the friends you joined F1 with go on ahead. When Logan stops answering his texts and James brings up his worries, Alex is at Logan’s door telling him to pack up and come over to his place. George starts off in a “I’m here to help but mainly because Alex wants to do this and I love Alex” and quickly becomes “i am onboard with helping you, here is a list of therapists I have complied, please pick one.”

George is absolutely making PowerPoints. It starts off with “No one on the grid or your team hates you + with proof from the group chat” to “Your lack of self-esteem is alarming and we are all a bit worried” before becoming “Oscar is in love with you + photographic evidence.” George’s love language is PowerPoints. When he was getting Alex that Williams seat, I imagined him cornering people with a laptop in hand and a PowerPoint titled “Alex Albon’s Achievements: Why he is a perfect fit for Williams”. Alex is ordering take out and providing commentary on the slides, and questioning where certain photos came from.

I see Carlando adopting Oscar not in a parental way, but more in a “I have more life experience so let me tell you why ghosting your friend and crush is a bad idea”. They absolutely brainstorm ways to woo Logan but they keep failing because Logan thinks Oscar is doing this to apologize for not talking to him for a month/forgetting his birthday and Oscar is slowly going insane because nothing works and in every interaction Logan looks sadder and sadder. Carlos and Lando are definitely getting worked up because it was never this hard when they got together .

Your idea with the flower language is genius, can I write that in the fic? I am thinking of a scene like

“No, Lando we cannot put yellow roses in the arrangement. They mean decrease of love, that’s an awful flower to include.”

“How about orange lilies? There aren’t exactly a ton of papaya or orange flowers to choose from.”

“No! Orange lilies mean hatred. We should be starting simple like pink roses and baby breaths.”

“Those options are basic. They don’t have personality to them. It looks like Oscar just went to a supermarket and picked it up. How is anyone supposed to feel special receiving a standard supermarket bouquet?”

“I wouldn’t know Lando. You never got me flowers before so I don’t know how I would feel receiving a supermarket bouquet?”

This ask was super fun to answer! Thank you so much for sending it❤️ I am also obsessed with it and am drafting outlines to write it. Please feel free to send more asks. I really love answering them.

[mixelation]

i thought about replying to this post, but then decided it'd be better to make my own. tl;dr OP states that they don't mind a lot types of comments AO3 writers commonly complain about and then calls for writers to read their comments in good faith. i was going to just scroll by this as it seemed to be presented as "this is my personal preference," but then OP calls for more writers to share their feelings. so i thought it might help to explain why i personally don't like certain types of comments

first, OP brings up pointing out typos multiple times. i absolutely despise having typos pointed out, although personally i don't know any other writers who care too much. i delete comments that just point out typos with no other commentary, and the fact that i don't delete comments with actual comments AND a typo pointed out is mostly because the idea makes me feel bad for the commenter. my personal hatred for the typo comments is linked more to being bullied for being dyslexic than anything else, but i do think a list of typos with nothing else is a pretty rude comment, and it ties into why giving unsolicited "constructive criticism" is, imho, rude or at the very least largely annoying

a lot of people say unsolicited concrit is bad because "fic is free." this isn't the reason. it's still rude to personally contact a writer with your criticisms even if you paid for it (assuming you didn't, you know, commission it or otherwise have a right to give such feedback). it's because concrit is essentially useless unless the person providing it understands the goals of the writer and wants to help the writer to those goals. on ao3, the writer's goal might have been to write a little story in one sitting. it might have been to write something hyper self-indulgent and so niche that it makes no sense to any other human being. the writer's goal might not be anything that would necessitate concrit at all. and, no offense, but most "constructive criticism" from random people on the internet is just "you didn't write the story i personally wanted to read" rather than anything that has to do with the story itself. on top of that, when i give people stuff for spelling and grammar, a stunning percentage of the time, people make "corrections" which are simply unnecessary or flat out incorrect. you are not a copy editor, and unless the writer asked in their notes, they have not asked you to edit. don't do it.

also, when you point out typos, there's an implied assumption you expect the writer to fix them. otherwise, why point them out? and the writer has no obligation to do things for you

other types of comments in the post:

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ - I don't personally mind this one unless the tone is REALLY hostile to whatever ship (or trope, or character, or whatever). The reason why this one is often construed as rude is that the writer presumably is a fan of the ship, since they're writing about it. If you criticize other fics about the ship, then you might be criticizing things the author really enjoys. I think tone is a big factor here; this genre of comment can get way more hostile than OP's example.

‘looking forward to the next update’ / ‘I hope you update soon!’ - The wording of both of these is mild, but keep in mind writers with lots of fics have likely fielded a decent number of "update now you [slur]" comments. Also this is inappropriate to say on a fic marked completed (surprisingly common!). My experience on AO3 is that the really aggressive "update now!!" comments are fewer than they used to be and fewer than on FFN, but a lot of writers are still made tired by them. I'd suggest saying something more like "I'm excited to see where this goes" and make sure the fic isn't complete.

‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ - I don't think most writers would mind this one, actually. Usually writers like it when you ask them questions about their work. If I gave any commentary, I'd be a bit careful about tone again-- if you just write "why'd you do [x]" with nothing else, it could come off abrasive or like you think the choice was bad.

i do agree with OP's contention that one's experience as a writer on AO3 will improve if they engage comments in good faith. i disagree with the idea that reading in good faith means every type of comment below outright harassment is appropriate or not annoying. i do not think reading in good faith and just accepting anything anyone says to you are the same. i also don't really believe that writers complaining about annoying comments is creating a comment scarcity, mostly because i don't believe in the purported comment crisis everyone is upset about, and also because i know there were entire LJ communities dedicated to asshole comments. it's not really new.

[bropunzeling]

I‘d love to read your commentary on „honey and a sting“, especially on scenes from Leon‘s summer in Sicily, please💙

thank u for this excuse to not do my writing that i was gonna do (i WILL do it. seattle au waits for no man. or jess.)

Once they’ve made it through the menu, Leon gets a full pour of the first wine she tried and heads outside, where there’s tables and chairs and a pergola, and a small, low wall overlooking the grounds. [i did so much googling for this sequence and in conclusion: i would like to go to siciliy. when can i go to sicily.] Leaning over that wall, she tries to take in the view. Rolling hills, lines of grapevines stretching as far as she can see; tall, conical trees fluttering at the edges of the field. [again: when can i go to sicily!!!!] It’s beautiful, the kind of place she should take a picture of, show off to all her friends and acquaintances and the thousands of strangers who follow her on Instagram.

Instead she holds her wineglass in one hand and stares at her fucking phone. [there's something about phones that like. idk it's a thing i think about a lot more in our Modern Era but also when writing a fic like this that has an inherent long-distance component. the phone as the only tether to someone. the phone as a representation of the person you can't reach (or that you are refusing to let connect to you, in the playoffs sequence). idk in retrospect the phone carried so much weight throughout this whole fic, and more as it went on!] Earlier at the house she hadn’t had time to look at Twitter or Instagram; now she can’t seem to stop, scrolling through the posts over and over. Contract signed; here are the terms. A statement: so excited to join the Panthers organization. Oh, and congratulations to Brady on his engagement. What a weekend for the Tkachuk family. [i just like the rhythm of this bit a lot! lots of choppy, short fragmented sentences. i like how it feels like reading through a feed. i also find i tend to default to shorter sentences for leon pov? idk just something about it makes sense to me.]

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The thing is. The thing is, she’d been ready to get over him. [liar] Or, not ready, not exactly, but she’d been—preparing to be ready. She thought she knew what to expect. Four games a year, sixty minutes at a time, Matthew in Calgary red and grinning obnoxiously at her around his mouthguard. Sure, she wouldn’t see him before every game; sure, he wouldn’t come over to hers, sit on her couch and pet her dog and be—but in time, she’d manage it. He’d go back to being who he was to her before 2020, before that one fucking All-Star Game and all that followed, and eventually she’d stop feeling like the walls of her chest were caving in every time she thought about him. [obviously this never could have happened the way she thought, but also i just really like the trade as a big pivot point/method of crystallization. the increase in distance making it how clear leon wasn't going to be over him, that there was no going back to the start. that she started something that couldn't be reversed a long long time ago! idk! the trade provides so much narrative richness and works as such a great fulcrum for those kinds of realizations.]

He can’t go back to who he was to her if he’s in Florida. She won’t even see him, not really. Twice in November. And he won’t be in the condo she remembers, the hall she has memorized, won’t be in the right shade of red, won’t be—

He won’t be hers. Not in the way she wants him now; not even in the small way she had him before. [i just really like this moment! again, leon forced to realize what it is she actually wanted at the time -- for what they had to keep going ad infinitum. and when confronted with the actuality that things change (and perhaps her own actions spurred that change/made it more likely to pass) she has regrets about it! idk something something we can't stay static, we are always changing? yk.]

Before she registers what she’s doing, she’s opening her contacts, scrolling down until she finds him. When she taps on his name, the call history stares back at her: June 6th, one incoming call, declined.

She hits call.

As the phone rings in her ear, she abruptly realizes she hadn’t thought about time differences. [me, the author: fuck i haven't thought about time differences] She doesn’t know where he is—St. Louis? Florida? Somewhere else? There’s no picture on her phone for her to guess from. [callback to one of their little intimacy things that i really liked where he would send her pictures of skylines] Fuck, what if he’s doing something? What if she has to leave a voicemail? What if she—

“Leon?”

Hearing Matthew say her name for the first time in months hits her hard, a fist to the stomach. She has to suck in a breath, high and whistling, just to try and get enough air to speak. [there's just something about a really difficult phone call that like. physically hits you. right?]

“Leon?” Matthew repeats slowly. “Is that—”

“Matthew,” Leon finally manages. “Um. Hi.”

“Hi,” Matthew replies. There’s another pause. “Not to be rude, but why…”

“Um,” Leon says, trying to marshall the thoughts in her head. It’s not going well. [i was trying pretty hard in this sequence through the sentence structure and repetition of details to convey that sort of frantic like---leon thought everything had already fallen apart and now it's falling apart even worse. the one thing she thought wouldn't change is changing. something like that.] All she can think about is eight years, five thousand kilometers, two games, the wrong shade of red. “I, uh, I saw. About the trade.”

“Oh.” Matthew says.

And fuck, Leon really should hang up, she really should stop—this isn’t helping, this is just making things worse, only—

“Florida?” she asks, in a very small voice. [i'm one of those people who has little scraps of dialogue and sentences in a notes app note for most wips, and this was one of them! once i made the pivot to account for the trade in the first place anyway haha]

Matthew laughs—no, not really a laugh. More like a huff of air, rough and unfunny. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I—I wasn’t going to stay, not after Johnny—and it seems like a good fit for me. So.” [obvi irl matthew has his own motivations for getting tf out of calgary (and it's fun to explore different takes on those motivations in different scenarios, obviously i go different routes in marriage bets or omega!matthew or what have you) but there is definitely more than a lil element of heartbreak playing into this one. it wasn't ALL because leon broke his heart, of course, he had more concrete reasons, but it didn't not factor in.]

“Right,” Leon says weakly. “Right.” Her stomach hurts. “It’s, uh. Pretty far from Calgary.” [pretty far from ME] And she knows, she knows as soon as she says it that he’ll see what she’s saying, that he’ll know she’s not thinking about Calgary at all—fuck, how pathetic can she be—and yet she can’t stop herself.

“Yeah,” Matthew says. “Yeah, it is.” More silence. “Listen, I’m going to lunch with my family soon, I should really—”

“No, you should—yeah,” Leon says. “Um. Congratulations. I—I hope it’s what you want.” [(a) god love an awkward conversation (b) leon trying to be supportive while working thru her feelings and just unable to conceal them? that's the good stuff for me.]

“Yeah, well, it'll be—yeah,” Matthew says. “Anyways. I, uh. I’m glad you called.” Another of those not-laughs; another punch to her gut. “Could’ve been sooner, but—well. Good to hear from you.” [would matthew have changed his mind? mmmmm i think on balance no. but also he just wants to hear from leon all the time. big in love energy.]

“Yeah,” Leon replies, before her voice dies in her throat and she can’t say anything else. [i hate writing sadness but i do love when my guys are a little sad. conundrums. but i thought this scene worked pretty well!]

[innerchorus]

If it's not too much trouble for you, may I ask for some creator's commentary on some parts of your fic? 👀

These are gonna be out of order and very scattered, probably, oops—

“One day, in the glorious future that was rightfully his, he would sit on the throne as the Shah of Pars, and by his side would be a consort of a suitable bloodline to bear him strong children, a son to be his heir. He kept his thoughts on the matter deliberately indistinct, but he was realistic.”

I wonder if he was trying really hard not to think about Irina here, the girl he loved all those years ago.

“Jamshid himself was said to have had a male concubine, a man of ethereal beauty.”

This is so relevant to my interests.

“Two days ago, upon his return from answering Guiscard’s summons, Hilmes had viewed those same marks with barely-concealed irritation, and in his frustration had scarcely been able to prevent a trace of sarcasm from creeping into his tone. It had been unfair; Zandeh had tried his best.”

I wonder if Zandeh had caught it, because in the manga if I'm remembering correctly he was just really relieved and all teary as he thought how generous Hilmes was. He's good at information-gathering, and he's not dumb by any means, but he might've been a teensy-bit blinded to it— what was I gonna say? I swear I had a point.

You're damn right, Hilmes, it was unfair and Zandeh tried really hard.

“It was, Hilmes realised, the closest he had come to allowing someone to attend him as he dressed since before the fire. Back then, he had been a boy not even old enough to be thought capable of ruling the country in the wake of his father’s death. The future that was his by birthright had been taken from him and along with it, the life he should have led up until this point. He had come of age in hiding, the day passing by unmarked by ceremony.”

I didn't mention this in my actual comment but... man this made me feel for him. In hiding. Whereas if things hadn't gone to hell he would've been celebrating, and it would've marked the day he comes into his own power without the need for a regent. It would've been a big day. Fuck.

Absolutely! I'd be delighted to discuss it!

Yeah, you're on the mark with that section, he's 1. avoiding thinking of Irina because it's pointless and painful (he's certain he'll never see her again) and 2. he can't clearly imagine what his future partner will be like because Irina is the only one he ever wanted. It's pretty clear that his plan was to marry her; in her absence the specifics don't matter because it's no longer about love, it's about what's required of him.

Ah, I love that you honed in on that one line about Jamshid's lover, I was pretty pleased to sneak that in there. It's a little headcanon of mine and I like to think that there might have been one or two mentions of him in the surviving stories from that time! I'm being ~*mysterious*~ about it right now but I have a drabble to finish up and post soon that contains a hint.

Hilmes's frustration is actually a reference to a scene from the novels that wasn't adapted for the manga! It takes place before Arslan reaches the safety of Peshawar, when Hilmes reunites with Zandeh. You can read it here. In the manga, we see Hilmes heading back towards Peshawar in Chapter 35, and then confronting Narsus with Zandeh by his side later in that same chapter, so Arakawa skipped the scene of them meeting up again. (As can be seen from the scene in the novels, it's actually thanks to information provided by Zandeh that Hilmes knows Narsus's location, which does help to offset some of his irritation at how little progress has otherwise been made.)

I don't exactly think Zandeh is oblivious to the fact that Hilmes is frustrated, but the nature of his very earnest response (reassuring Hilmes that no hardship is too much if it's for his sake, rather than apologising for his failings) makes me wonder if he didn't feel the full bite of the sarcasm. I'm sure he did already apologise for not being in a better position upon Hilmes's return, but he's nothing if not determined to do his best, and he clearly knows that being able to deal with Narsus himself is exactly what Hilmes wants.

Yeah, I felt pretty bad for Hilmes when I wrote that last paragraph you quoted. I was also trying to tie his relative inexperience (in particular with intimacy) to the lasting effects the fire and betrayal had on him through his adolescence and into adulthood. He's missed out on a lot. Though I do think he'd always have been the type to dedicate his heart to one person.

[lightandfellowship]

Y'all know what I like doing by now. That's right: commentary and overexplaining.

Sometimes, Xehanort just...sits.

When I started writing this in a sudden burst of inspiration after getting Starlight's ask, at first I didn't consciously choose to write it in present tense. In fact I usually prefer past tense. However it ended up working out in the end. One of the themes of this oneshot is Xehanort trying and failing to focus on the present while ignoring the tragedy and attachments of his past. So for the most part he thinks and acts in present tense throughout the fic...until he starts unintentionally reminiscing and naturally transitions into past tense.

Repeated exposure to the dense darkness within these corridors had strengthened Xehanort's heart and toughened it, much like how repeated exposure to the elements toughen the bottom of your feet after walking barefoot for miles and miles.

To go along with the title of the game (Dark Road) I incorporated a metaphor about walking vs resting. Walking represents moving forward, not looking back, focusing on your destination/the future, constantly making progress towards a goal, not allowing yourself time to rest and be vulnerable, etc. Resting of course represents the opposite of all those things: reflecting on the past, focusing on yourself, admitting when you're tired and weak, etc.

Eventually, the skin hardens, and the sharp edge of spite, the biting chill of indifference, and the scorching heat of animosity become—for the most part—bearable.

I specifically chose sensations that you would feel if you were walking barefoot out in nature. A sharp rock embedding itself into your foot, an icy cold stream numbing your feet, sun-baked ground burning you with every step.

I was also inspired by user corishadowfang here, because in their fic Fool's Gold they tend to describe Xehanort's empathy powers in a very tangible/tactile way, and I really like that.

The resemblance is striking, he thinks. No, not their appearance, for every time Xehanort has run into them in this place, their face has, without fail, been obscured by the hood of their favorite blue cloak.

To provide a reason for why Player is seen wearing that cloak so much. They live on a tropical island and they're wearing that? Perhaps it holds some sort of special meaning for them.

The emotions are different each time (he recalls them with ease, as if they were engraved upon his own heart: guilt, doubt, pity, grief), but he recognizes them as belonging to his mentor all the same. It's them, somehow.

I just really like the idea that an empath can correctly identify a person through their emotions alone, as if each person's emotions are a unique fingerprint.

And I suppose this is obvious, but the Player spirit Xehanort frequently sees in the dark corridors is always a manifestation of some dark emotion Player experienced in life, thus all the listed emotions being negative.

Rhythmic waves of emotion imitating the heartbeat that he used to know so well, that used to lull him to sleep every night as a baby. Used to. Use—yes. He utilizes these dark corridors so frequently now.

This is Xehanort catching himself reminiscing about something sad (a precious experience that is now out of his reach forever) and then turning the sentence around to be about something else (something objective and unemotional), essentially changing the subject. (He even switches from "use" to "utilize" for that extra layer of separation from the first thought.) As I mentioned before, he transitions from past tense back into present tense.

(Does "used to" count as past tense? Actually I'm not sure now.)

It would be foolish not to take advantage of all the benefits such travel provided, so of course that's why he's gotten into the habit of using the dark corridors whenever he can. For efficiency, and for proving the strength of his heart. No other reason, really.

He's lying, of course (he also uses the dark corridors in order to encounter...)

But sometimes he doesn't pass through the corridors with the swift, purposeful pace that he ought to. Sometimes, he loiters, peering into the turbulent darkness as if looking for someone. He waits, in those halls that should not be traversed by the living.

Continuation of the walking vs. resting metaphor, Xehanort is starting to falter in his ability to distance himself from emotions and attachments and finds himself frequently loitering in the corridor instead of going straight to his intended destination.

All at once, the pain he was so masterfully ignoring up until this point hits him in full force: the rapid, uncontrolled beating of his heart; the bone-deep ache in his legs; the soreness of his feet; the lightheadedness and stinging intakes of air that follow running out of breath.

Again, for the sake of the metaphor all the listed "ailments" are things you would feel after running non-stop until you couldn't take it anymore.

The rough skin of his heart had finally fractured under the strain of the corridor, and the darkness that flows into the cracks feels like water rushing into his lungs.

The darkness = water metaphor of the series, y'all know how it is.

His arm shaking, he desperately tries to grip the hand of the only parent he's ever known (known, but not the only parent he's ever loved) to steady himself, but his own hand passes right through.

He's just been calling Player his "mentor" throughout the fic, emotionally distancing himself from them, but now he finally admits that Player is like a parent to him.

And, for once on this seemingly never-ending journey of his, he just sits.

Why do I say "for once" when the fic established earlier that he's sat down in the dark corridors before multiple times by now?

It's more figurative this time around. Those other times weren't true instances of "sitting" because he hadn't yet fully given himself over to rest and vulnerability. But in this instance, in immense physical and emotional pain, he finally has no choice but to stop, lie down, and grapple with the grief over Player's death that he's been ignoring for so long.

The "just" in "just sits" that's repeated throughout the fic is important as well...Xehanort has all of these grand, noble goals that he wants to accomplish, but in the end he's just sitting. Something so mundane and inconsequential, an act that benefits only his rest and doesn't contribute to anything "important".

A Single Step

(A short Xehanort fic inspired by this ask @starlightwayfinder sent to me.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sometimes, Xehanort just...sits.

That strange (and frankly, highly suspicious) man he had met while preparing for his Mark of Mastery exam had been right, in the end: after some time, Xehanort didn't need to wear the black coat inside the dark corridors anymore.

Repeated exposure to the dense darkness within these corridors had strengthened Xehanort's heart and toughened it, much like how repeated exposure to the elements toughen the bottom of your feet after walking barefoot for miles and miles. Eventually, the skin hardens, and the sharp edge of spite, the biting chill of indifference, and the scorching heat of animosity become—for the most part—bearable. Nothing can stop you from making any trek, no matter how perilous the terrain may be.

He no longer required the protection of the coat, and sometimes, he just sits within the depths of the dark corridor. Waiting.

It doesn't usually take too long for "it" to appear.

The afterimage of his mentor.

He doesn't really know what the afterimage is, exactly. Oh, he has theories, sure, based on his own observations and what he was taught in school. But no true way to test those theories. And in any case, he doesn't particularly care about the specifics—not now, anyway.

The resemblance is striking, he thinks. No, not their appearance, for every time Xehanort has run into them in this place, their face has, without fail, been obscured by the hood of their favorite blue cloak. But their heart—their heart!—he can feel it: their emotions.

The emotions are different each time (he recalls them with ease, as if they were engraved upon his own heart: guilt, doubt, pity, grief), but he recognizes them as belonging to his mentor all the same. It's them, somehow. Were it not for the figure's ghostly translucence betraying their true nature, Xehanort could almost swear that his mentor was standing right next to him again, alive. Rhythmic waves of emotion imitating the heartbeat that he used to know so well, that used to lull him to sleep every night as a baby.

Used to.

Use—yes. He utilizes these dark corridors so frequently now. A journey of hundreds of thousands of miles, reduced to nothing more than a brief stroll. A method of travel that is quick, convenient, and covert. It would be foolish not to take advantage of all the benefits such travel provided, so of course that's why he's gotten into the habit of using the dark corridors whenever he can. For efficiency, and for proving the strength of his heart. No other reason, really.

But sometimes he doesn't pass through the corridors with the swift, purposeful pace that he ought to. Sometimes, he loiters, peering into the turbulent darkness as if looking for someone. He waits, in those halls that should not be traversed by the living.

And he just sits.

Finally, a figure coalesces several feet ahead of him. He's so used to it by now, and yet he can't help but draw in a sharp breath at the sight of it.

His mentor. Or something close to them.

Close enough.

Xehanort gets on his feet, and slowly inches his way towards the apparition. He's encountered it several times already, but has always kept a safe distance away. Today, however, will be different; today, he will indulge his curiosity.

The spirit remains perfectly still as Xehanort approaches. It doesn't react, doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't seem to notice him at all. He may as well not exist.

He's only a couple of feet away from the spirit when suddenly, something inside of him shatters. His knees buckle on their own from the shock, and he crumples to the floor without meaning to.

All at once, the pain he was so masterfully ignoring up until this point hits him in full force: the rapid, uncontrolled beating of his heart; the bone-deep ache in his legs; the soreness of his feet; the lightheadedness and stinging intakes of air that follow running out of breath.

The rough skin of his heart had finally fractured under the strain of the corridor, and the darkness that flows into the cracks feels like water rushing into his lungs.

He doesn't know what caused his heart to falter like this. Was this the spirit's doing, somehow? But the pain is so relentless, so overwhelming, that he can't focus long enough to consider the possibilities.

Endure it. Keep going.

His arm shaking, he desperately tries to grip the hand of the only parent he's ever known (known, but not the only parent he's ever loved) to steady himself, but his own hand passes right through.

He knows this will happen. He knew this would happen. But a pained sob escapes his throat regardless when he fails to make contact, soft and broken and child-like and utterly drowned out by the sea of unintelligible whispers surging all around him.

Trying to stand up in this state would be a futile effort, he realizes. Instead, he crawls the final few inches to his intended destination and collapses, curling up next to the memory of someone long gone.

And, for once on this seemingly never-ending journey of his,

he just

sits.

[workingforitallthetime]

If one were interested in learning more about the USNTDP boys, where would that person turn? Are there any primers, seminal texts, etc you recommend? Thank you!!

oh boy oh boy oh boy! a chance to compile so many links that i have been helplessly texting my pals for the last eight months as i fell all the way down this rabbit hole!

first, let's define our terms. by "the USNTDP boys," i assume we are referring to the core members of the USNTDP class of 2019, most of whom were drafted in the first round in 2019 and also formed the core of the 2021 team usa world juniors gold medal squad. theirs is considered to be the best class the NTDP has ever produced, and also a uniquely close and fun group.

to my knowledge there is no single picture of all eight key dudes in this pack. this one comes close, or this one. or this video, which captures the group dynamic as well as anything. also, the night of their draft they had a karaoke party and wore each other's jerseys. (god, look at trevor and cole and jack's expressions in that first pic, just daring you to question them.)

if you want to get more of a feel for the group dynamic, just read their commentary on pretty much any one of their instagram posts. this podcast, in which the interviewers ask cole, turcs, and trevor to describe each of their teammates in one word, is also seminal. for example:

interviewer: matt boldy? trevor: quirky. interviewer: he said you were dumb. trevor: ok, i'm gonna say he's a little chubby then.

here's a quick summary and some links for everybody. i'm gonna focus on material that is relevant to the group dynamic, so this should not be considered a comprehensive primer on any of these individuals. but please know i am happy to expound further on anything mentioned below.

trevor zegras: westchester county prep school rich kid, drafted ninth overall by the ducks, one-and-done at boston university. trevor is cocky, charismatic, and creative. his prep school coach called him dennis the menace. he is incapable of sitting still. he looks like an absolute idiot at all times, and he is fully aware of that and does not mind it a bit. he is my favorite.

cole caufield: wisconsin native, drafted 15th by the habs, spent two years at wisconsin. absolutely shattered the NTDP record for career goals. you are probably aware of his pretty impressive rookie showing in the playoffs. he is always smiling and he has the kind of confidence you can only get away with if you're short. asked to describe cole, the only word matt boldy could think of is cute.

alex turcotte: suburban chicago kid, drafted fifth overall by the kings, one-and-done at wisconsin. nothing ever seems to go right for turcs. he was drafted higher than everyone else except jack but stalled in the AHL while they all made their NHL debuts. he was the 1C of the future, and then the kings drafted quinton byfield a year later. he was supposedly the next best center after jack, and then trevor outshone him at world juniors. fiercely competitive and maybe even more driven than most to play through injury. was in charge of the aux cord in the ntdp locker room.

spencer knight: connecticut native, drafted 13th by the florida panthers, spent two years at boston college. he's your typical goalie, weird and hyper-focused, like carter hart if carter hart was an east coast prep school bro. trevor and spencer went to avon old farms together before the ntdp.

matt boldy: another boston-area boy, drafted 12th by the wild, spent two years at boston college. boldy is the serious, quirky one. he and cole got very into bowling. the running joke is that he has a dad bod. trevor adores him.

cam york: socal roller boy, drafted 14th by the flyers, played two years at michigan. these dudes all voted cam to be their captain. turcs is awed by his hockey smarts. extremely into fishing, seems even more bro-y than the rest of them. has ginger hair that stands straight up every time he tries to grow it out, and thighs that i spend a completely normal amount of time thinking about.

patrick moynihan: boston-area native, drafted in the sixth round by the devils, currently of providence college. pat is important because he is everybody's favorite. here is a video of jack convincing the devils to draft pat. the naked fondness on his face should be illegal.

jack hughes: thanks to jack going 1OA, you can google plenty of material about him, so i'm not gonna bother to summarize. jack was the only one of these guys to skip college entirely, and maybe he shouldn't have. of relevance to the group dynamic, turcs lived with him during the program. hosted a gathering at the hughes summer compound in august 2020 that should feature in every team usa fic ever.

go forth down that rabbit hole, anon, and come back here and suffer with me anytime.

[willowcrowned]

For the meme:

She smiles at him, the hint of mirth in her expression matched with the predator’s satisfaction exuding from her every look. “First things first, Obi-Wan. I feel I should clarify that I never intended to become pregnant.”

He tilts his head slightly. “I was not aware,” he says smoothly, “that the Naboo had ethical issues with the termination of pregnancy.”

“We don’t,” she says, “but let’s not distract ourselves from the point at hand.” She pushes out her chair and gets up, not yet pregnant enough to render her graceless, and walks over to sit beside him. “Do you know what he said the first time I asked him how our political system should work?”

Obi-Wan cringes instinctively. He remembers Anakin’s thoughts on bureaucracy as a teenager, slowly growing more and more supportive of the ruthless militaristic sensibilities that Palpatine had clearly favored and yet unable to defend any of his points with the grace and eloquence expected of him.

“He said that people should sit down and actually talk about the problems.”

“Oh dear,�� Obi-Wan murmurs.

“And that if they couldn’t, someone should make them.”

Obi-Wan lets the blow hit, willing himself not to grimace, and looks down, away from her. “He... has shown an affinity towards expediency over empathy.”

Padmé snorts, a sound that so completely startles him coming from her that he refocuses on her face. “He was arguing in favor of fascism, Obi-Wan. Let’s not mince words.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “I was being politic.”

“I’m his wife. You’re his friend. If we can’t acknowledge his faults without ‘being politic’ then we’ve already failed him.”

Obi-Wan concedes the point by inclining his head slightly, allowing her to continue.

“In any case,” she continues, “when I asked him who he thought should ‘make them’— his words, not mine— he said ‘Not me. Someone wise.’ I confess that, until that moment, I had been on the verge of sending for a different Jedi and suggesting very strongly that the Council keep a closer eye on him.”

Obi-Wan gives her a look. “Yes, he does have his moments of self-awareness.”

“He does,” she agrees, a genuine smile pulling at her lips, but her expression soon sobers as she refocuses her attention on Obi-Wan. “Do you know how large the political and commercial influence of a former queen of Naboo, let alone a senator for the entire sector, is?”

[Send me a <500 word snippet of my fic and I'll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary track]

Of Love, Peace, and Restraint

Back in January, when I was writing this, I was very interested in the idea that a lot of what we see of Padmé in the films is from Anakin's perspective, and that a lot of who she is is obscured by Anakin's romance-cum-obsession. Writing OLPR was my way of sort of... negotiating with that—figuring out the kinks of who she might have been otherwise.

OLPR is very consumed with the idea that there's a lot going on outside Anakin's periphery, specifically with the people he cares about. Obi-Wan and Padmé do sort of exist to serve his character development in the movies—at the very least, George Lucas is much, much less interested in them than he is in Anakin—so reframing that as "the movies are interested in Anakin because Anakin is the viewpoint character, and Anakin is mostly interested in Anakin" made it possible to start mocking up my own character concepts for them, still in line with who they are in the movies, but a little more nuanced.

This snippet in particular is the lead up to Obi-Wan figuring out why Padmé is interested in Anakin romantically. As with the rest of the fic, it's fairly consumed with illustrating that there's a lot more going on with Obi-Wan and Padmé beneath the surface, and that the reason Anakin never picks up on it is because it's very subtle—all allusions and tiny gestures, and very very little plain speech. But the main focus of it is confronting the fact that Padmé willingly chose to marry a guy who thought fascism was the word of god.

In Smoke Raised with the Fume of Sighs, I go a very different route, and have her be a little... hm, I think the technical term is 'so out of her mind with loneliness and obsessed with love that she's willing to find excuses for almost everything provided she knows somebody loves her.' Here, there's still a lot of that—Padmé is finding excuses for him, and it's because she wants somebody to love her that she knows she can trust—but she also has a lot more faith in his goodness.

Part of the reason she does have that faith is because Anakin never Fell and killed children (which: yes I know he kills Tusken children, but I'd forgotten Padmé knew that when I wrote this), but part of it is that she just... doesn't think he wants to or is capable of seizing power for himself. And he doesn't! And he's not!

Obi-Wan knows this—and knows it very well—but he's still convinced Padmé is the normal sort of madly in love with him, and he can't picture her being fulfilled with him, because, well, Anakin doesn't operate the way Obi-Wan and Padmé do.

Part of the reason he's talking to her is to break up her and Anakin before she hurts Anakin irreparably. Padmé knows that, and knows what she wants, and her acknowledging Anakin's flaws here and then chastising Obi-Wan for refusing to name them (which he can't, because he'd need to reprimand Anakin if he acknowledged they existed, and he knows that reprimands don't work) is her way of proving to him that she can be good for Anakin in a way the Jedi can't be.

Anyways, that was very long and rambly. It's a piece that's very interested in navel gazing, and thinking about it just leads to more navel gazing.

tldr; Padmé's got a little too much faith in Anakin, and she's pulling power moves on Obi-Wan

[wexhappyxfew]

—— 1 year anniversary to Landslide [BOB FIC]

Wow! 1 year! I can’t even believe that just last year, I was sat in a lake house, in the late hours of the night, trying to figure out what idea was going to be my next for another Band of Brothers story! I remember the moment and where I had been sitting when the idea hit and looking back, I’m so glad it hit when it did. Landslide is far from that little idea I got in that lake house, but has continually developed, grown and changed in ways I look back and can’t even begin to think about how it even happened!

Natia Filipska has been a character that I will cherish close to my heart. Of course, I adore my other OCs and will always love them, but Natia holds an even more special place there in my heart because of the challenge in writing she has offered me. She gives me a challenge everyday - whether it’s having to rewrite a scene 5 times because “it’s just not her” or completely starting over a chapter because knowing Natia, she’d have a better way to get out of this situation.

I’ve also made one of my absolute favorite ships, coined “Fliptoye” by a few readers (you know who you are hehe) and it has grown to truly be a favorite of mine for so many reasons. There was no “love at first sight” or really anything like that. Just two human beings realizing they genuinely care for each other and enduring both the struggles and hardships that come along with realizing in war, you care for something that war can also touch. That for one of the first times it is not longer just about you or the buddy next to you. Natia Filipska and Joe Toye have been a joy to write!

And of course there was the month of disliking Richard Winters, the iconic nickname of “Mapkeeper” for Lewis Nixon, the Roman History nerd jokes that have now developed with Ronald Speirs, the slow start of some sort of friendship because of cracking a joke about Nix with Harry Welsh, and the comfort of a friend from Carwood Lipton.

Even Joe Liebgott and Natia Filipska have swiftly become a favorite duo and I can completely agree. Getting to see where they started and where they are now — from seeing their differences and arguments and heavy weighted disagreements to know finding ways to comfort each other even in the midst of war and making sure the other is okay and even eating. They’ve definitely been one of my favorite duos to go through that sort of character arc together.

AND OF COURSE, we can not forget one of the most important driving forces in the fic, Death, himself (alongside the sarcastic bits of War haha), most importantly the personification of Death. What draws me to a character like him, is more than anything the fact words can not be communicated between Natia and Death yet they hold such a strong willed connection, that you almost don’t need to worry about words. Each layer that builds with their connection, leads for an even darker end and makes Death even more fascinating in the end.

You can’t forget a guy like Agent Mortem! Without him Natia and Agent “Fidel” wouldn’t be here right? Right? Right….? Well…..anyway…..even with who he is and his partially uncovered past, Agent Mortem remains a heavy asset to Landslide as the leading cause for WHY Natia could possibly even be the way she is and to provide backstory on a multitude of other things, and for reason for Natia to have her redemption. There’s so much unexplored. And I’m so ready to talk about it! :D

Landslide has challenged me in ways I can’t even begin to describe both mentally and emotionally with my writing. I’ve had to rewrite, rework, edit over and over just to get it right but at the end of the day, it is always worth it. In some ways I don’t even know what else to say, and almost think the story can speak for itself! It is made for you to interpret it they way you wish to interpret it, there’s no right way to see who Natia is or what Landslide is about — whether for you it be about family, friendship, love in war, darkness and overcoming that, the struggles of mental health, finding your own inner peace or independence….whatever it may be, I hope it has possibly even helped you somehow in anyway :) Even with the MAJOR HECKING ANGST (LMAO💀) or the extremely sad parts (that honestly are probably just super sad to me LOL), it still is a fic full of lessons and stories equally about someone like Natia!

Landslide has challenged me in ways I can’t even begin to describe both mentally and emotionally with my writing. I’ve had to rewrite, rework, edit over and over just to get it right but at the end of the day, it is always worth it. In some ways I don’t even know what else to say, and almost think the story can speak for itself! It is made for you to interpret it they way you wish to interpret it, there’s no right way to see who Natia is or what Landslide is about — whether for you it be about family, friendship, love in war, darkness and overcoming that, the struggles of mental health, finding your own inner peace or independence….whatever it may be, I hope it has possibly even helped you somehow in anyway :) Even with the MAJOR HECKING ANGST (LMAO💀) or the extremely sad parts (that honestly are probably just super sad to me LOL), it still is a fic full of lessons and stories equally about someone like Natia!

I can’t WAIT for whatever else this story has to bring to the table! With still a bit of writing for the future to go, it makes me so incredibly hopeful for an end in sight on both Landslide and Natia’s character and peace for all those lost throughout the story <3

Thank you to EVERY single person who took a chance with Landslide and took a read, if you were from Day One, saw it while scrolling through Wattpad or AO3 or Tumblr, or even saw the Spoon meme! I appreciate each and every single one of you! Whether you voted, commented or left a kudo, or just even took a read! I appreciate you SO MUCH! I can’t even begin to describe the joy this story has brought me and the challenges as a writer it has provided. I’m hopeful for the rest of this fic and hopefully for one or two more to come!

Special shout-out to @vintagelavenderskies for being by my side with this project since like DAY ONE?!?! EVEN BEFORE DAY ONE?!? I don’t even know but just genuinely for so long, how could I not tag you! You always are just so excited to hype me up as well as Natia (the lil bean) and give me support and comfort for whatever I was doing (especially that support, there was some rough moments throughout the year and the fic lol!) I just can’t thank you enough for your friendship and joy you’ve brought to me! <3 Thank you my friend, so so much, for everything! :D

I’ll also shoutout a few more lovely people who have just been…..absolutely wonderful in providing both support, or insight, wonderful commentary or just sweet messages throughout writing this! @tvserie-s-world (thank you for all the moodboards!!)@wecomrades @stressedinadress (credit do you my friend for og fliptoye name!!) @pxpeyewynn @whoahersheybars @kryzes @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @whovian45810 @geniedocroe @thoughpoppiesblow @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @alienoresimagines @alejodi0nysus @brichard-bwinters and just genuinely anyone else who even sent me a small ask or message, I appreciate it so much and your support or love or help in anything Landslide-related, helped me more than anything! <3

THANK YOU! TO ALL OF YOU! I don’t know what else to say except thank you. Thank you for letting me bring who Natia was, alive through this fic as well as her spirit and compassion of ending the war. Along with her friendships of Easy Company and hardships of both her past and mental health. It’s been an honor and privilege — here’s to many more! ✨

Happy reading! <3

tags: (because you’ve all been there for support and I simply adore you all <3) @sunnyshifty @alienoresimagines @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @huenoclue @liebegott @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @sunflowerchuck @tvserie-s-world @wecomrades @thoughpoppiesblow @pxpeyewynn @rogue-sunday @stressedinadress @jalapeno-peaches-andhersheybars @lovingunderratedcharacters @legally-devorak @sgtxliptons86 @alejodi0nysus @mrsalwayswrite @heffrcns @curraheewestandalone @supervalcsi @xthefourthx @whoahersheybars @kryzes @papersergeant-pencilsoldier @whovian45810 @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @geniedocroe @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @pipster4107 @mads-weasley

-> Feel free if you wish, to drop a favorite part that you really enjoyed from Landslide so far, a favorite memory or moment, happy or sad, a possible favorite quote or friendship if you wish too! If you feel even more inclined, questions are open as well! I have work all day but will be home to answer ;) THANK YOU ALL <3333 (mine has GOT to be the whole lone wolf thing lol!)

[danishmiilk]

dedication - na jaemin

genre || crack, fluff

pairing || na jaemin x reader; mentioned one-sided markhyuck

fic type || drabble; short fic?

word count || 1.4k

au || hogwarts!au, best friends to lovers!au

summary || na jaemin dedicated his quidditch win to you for no obvious reason. at least, not until he asks you “do you trust me?” and well, do you?

note || when did writing 1.4k become a normal thing for me? i remember the early days of this blog *sob* 1k was so hard to churn out istg- but anyway its not even a fic it’s a drabble just imagine!! oh and im super sorry for the very very rushed plot and everything that doesn’t make sense i’m high. this was supposed to be a timestamp but it spiralled out of hand so ok

“aaaaand what’s that? slytherin seeker na jaemin’s pulling his firebolt down into a nosedive - could he have seen the snitch?” the boy beside you hollered into the megaphone. you slammed your gloveless hands onto the cold metal railing and leaned out of your seat to look at one of your best friends barrelling toward the ground like he was suicidal. you trusted him and knew he was a good enough flier not to crash, of course, but it still worried you to see seeker!jaemin in a vertical dive down to the ground. “ugh, no, he hasn’t gotten it. HEY, NA JAEMIN, YOU SUCK!” professor mcgonagall turned and shouted in hyuck’s ear, “LEE DONGHYUCK, YOU BEHAVE, OR I’LL GET MISS L/N TO REPLACE YOU!” “sorry, professor, just some kindhearted encouragement, you know, but sure! y/n can replace me!” your best friend grinned impishly and held the megaphone out to you, offering you the chance to commentate. you shook your head firmly. the one and only reason you were sitting in the commentator’s box with hyuck was because it could only fit two people and professor mcgonagall wasn’t about to sit there and control the scoreboard next to her least favourite student of all time. it could also be partly to prevent hyuck from cheating, you supposed, though you had no idea how anyone expected you to be the one stopping him. if anything, you’d have come up with the idea. 

donghyuck had resumed commentating at the side, making snide comments every now and then. it was thirty minutes into the slytherin versus gryffindor game, and it showed no signs of stopping yet. the seekers were still circling above the pitch, gryffindor’s seeker zhong chenle (another one of your friends) trying his best to climb onto jaemin’s broom. you were pretty sure that was dangerous and against the rules, but whatever. “and slytherin chaser kim doyoung passes the quaffle to, well, another gryffindor, i mean slytherin chaser- what was his name? nokomota yuto? right, nakamoto yuta, sorry hyung- and yuta SHOOTS!” 

your head snapped back toward the game, squinting at the gryffindor goalpost. “oh, he misses, wait no he doesn’t miss! keeper mark lee saved it, excellent save there mork! you know, mark is such an awesome person, if only he’d go out with me, i’ve been pining after him for the past three years but he still won’t say yes. ah well, he’s in denial, one day he’ll realise how much he loves m-” “HYUCK,” you screamed, shaking his arm madly, “LOOK AT JAEMIN. STOP GIVING US DETAILS OF YOUR LOVE LIFE AND FOCUS ON THE GAME.” professor mcgonagall had given up on him long ago, but you were, of course, compelled to at least get him to stop waxing lyrical about mark lee.

“huh? oh yeah- uhm- slytherin must win! ah yes jaemin’s diving again but honestly who cares he’s coming up without the snitch again, stop giving me false hope na jaemin. yes, anyway, what was i saying? right, the tea. so siStErS if you would look in the corner there gryffindor beater lee taeyong’s… beating the bludgers away from slytherin chaser kim doyoung? what is this i see, people! i am scandalized! doyoung, i see you blushing! yes, i can see you blushing because i charmed my glasses! you are fraternizing with the enemy! have babies later! play the game nOOOOOOOW! oh but he’s the one giving you protection. okay. EVERYBODY LET’S CHEER ON THEIR BLOSSOMING LOVE IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER! SAY WOOOOOOOOO.” screams from the crowd. the hufflepuffs and ravenclaws had all come to watch the quidditch match - something only half of them would’ve turned up for if not for the commentary. which brings you to another point. it’s clear to everyone, you’d think, that lee donghyuck is the person most unsuited to be the commentator, like, ever. he doesn’t focus on the quidditch match at all, instead choosing to provide a detailed oral report on the latest gossip around campus. professor mcgonagall had tried to take him off the role before, of course, but she had no choice but to put him back on after 90% of the school signed a petition for “best commentator lee donghyuck” to return to the pitch. hyuck’s the dispatch of hogwarts, and he’s annoying, but he’s also funny, friendly, and sure as hell caught up on the latest tea. what’s not to like?

“right, so then i walked in to the girls’ bathroom, on accident i swear i’m not a pervert, and i saw irene and seulgi kissing in the corner and i was like what?? did not expect that. but i’d always kinda expected it because i can see couples in the future you know you can call me up anytime to predict your chances with your crush slight self promo but my rates are cheap af. where are seulrene? oh, there? i see your friends waving, congratulations guys, and oh wait jaemin has the snitch i think he’s holding something in his hand. oh. okay. 450-380 to slytherin, and slytherin win! tune in next quidditch match for another episode of Haechan’s Finest Tea Brewery!”

jaemin flew toward the commentator’s box, gesturing wildly with his hands. you stared at him, not comprehending, while hyuck chose to shout “HUH?? HUH??” repeatedly into the megaphone. jaemin rolled his eyes in annoyance that you could feel from a long distance away, pointed his wand at his throat and murmured sonorous. 

“i’d like to dedicate this win to y/n l/n over here. speaking of which, she’s my motivation to win for every match,” jaemin went on with a shy smile. you felt your eyes widen and your earlier excitement for slytherin winning slipping off your face. what was he talking about? “i understand if you see me as just a friend, but i still think i’ve got to show the whole school i love you.” jaemin flew closer to the box, hovering at the side of it. “do you want to be my girlfriend? do you trust me? if the answer is yes, mount this broom with me.”

hyuck had apparently also been startled into silence, not having made any snarky remarks about the scene very obviously plagiarised from aladdin. you gasped softly, getting up to move closer to the railing, your body deciding for you instead of your mind. jaemin’s smile widened, “do you trust me?”

did you love na jaemin? up until ten minutes ago, you were sure you didn’t. he hadn’t even been a candidate for being your love interest romantically. you were taken aback by the confession, but you weren’t upset by it either. you felt slightly fuzzy inside, like you were a stuffed teddy bear, and even on a winter day as cold as it was, you felt warmth spread throughout your entire body. what did hyuck always say about love? he said that love means you’d do the best you could to make them happy. that love’s about giving, not about receiving. that you’d always put them before yourself, and you’d pay extra attention to them, always. and that you’d be ready to carry them off on a bed of roses and bear their children, but then again, you supposed that was just one of hyuck’s strange fantasies about mark. reflecting on all the years you’d been friends, you’d always been staring at jaemin to see if he laughed at a joke before you did too. you rushed to the hospital wing at 3am, not caring about the three months’ worth of detention you could potentially (and later did) get, only wanting to check on him and see that his injured leg was alright. you’d done everything reasonable (like let him copy your homework) and everything unreasonable (like stealing telescopes from the astronomy tower with hyuck to feed the giant squid) just to see a smile on his face. and that smile could warm the harshest winters. 

maybe you were in love with na jaemin.

you walked up closer, and put your hand into his waiting one. the school, who’d been waiting with bated breath, exploded into cheers, but you heard none of it. there was only you and him. and the 30km drop to the ground.

jaemin’s grin looked like it was about to split his face into half. he pressed your cold hand to his lips, pretending to be a gentleman. pulling you onto his broom in front of him, he put his arms on both sides of you. un-amplifying his voice, he leaned forward, pressing himself into your back. “are you ready?” you nodded, fingers clutching tight onto the wood.

“i can show you the world.”

©danishmiilk, 2020.

[aftgficrec]

Idk if y’all do this but I don’t know who to ask but your favorite aftg SPOTIFY playlists? I like the “Andrew in clubs” by rb and the “andriel/AFTG” by sunellix but so far my favorite has been “untitled 1” by palmettofoxden because they made a tumblr post that went with it and I loved how they included the reason to each song. So if you can find playlist AND post related like that one I’ll love y’all more !!! Thanks

Oh, friend, you have no idea what you just got yourself into here.  You want playlists?  We’ve got playlists (and a little personal commentary from us).  A number of fics have amazing playlists to go along with them, so we’ve included little bits of info and links to those fics; then there are playlists for characters, and some general ones for the books.  We didn’t really find Tumblr posts to explain song choices, but we hope you enjoy this collection anyway! -M

NB: Fic links go directly to AO3. You can click on ‘recced here’ to see the trigger warnings that we’ve previously listed.

Playlists Based on Fics 

Red Rabbits Universe series by bloodydamnit, Jeni182, SeaBear13, windeavesdrops [Rated M-E; 647408 words in 3 works; 2 Complete 2019/2020, 1 WIP] (recced here)

If you’re unfamiliar with Red Rabbits then you’ve probably been living under a rock. From the very beginning the team behind this true crime themed fic have been excellent at providing a playlist for the characters, for the story, and for the highly interactive blog that can also be found here. If you’re looking for explanations as to why some songs are on the lists, check out the Tumblr asks and read the fic - there are many layers to this one but you can discover a lot in both Seasons. 

TFN by The Foxhole (2019) - Short and sweet (just like our favourite characters) this is a great list and sits perfectly alongside Season 1. 

TFN Minyard by The Foxhole (2019) - Africa is really the only song you need to listen to on this playlist but this is the list designed to represent Andrew in Red Rabbits. Sit back, listen, appreciate how very very well done this list is: emo bangers sit against indie bops, Lykke Li and MISSIO clash against Explosions in the Sky and Pink Floyd.  

TFN Seth by The Foxhole (2019) - Oh Seth, our sweet baby DJ, whose journey is honestly one of the best in fanfic. Here you’ll find Childish Gambino, Jay Z and Kanye, City Girls and The Weeknd. 

TFN Dan by The Foxhole (2019) - What a queen, it’s Dan Wilds with a mix of Beyonce, Frank Ocean and many more r&b, hiphop and pop tunes. Upbeat and powerful.

Neil Josten’s Music + Mathematics / The Calculus of Nocturnes by fuzzballsheltiepants [Rated M; 7863 words; Complete 2020] (recced here)

Like everything by fuzzballsheltiepants, this playlist is as well thought out and perfectly rendered as the story itself. The fic centers around Neil Josten, a high school math teacher with a secret obsession: the classical piano he hears music teacher Andrew Minyard playing every afternoon. Eventually his secret is found out, and his world begins to open up. This playlist can be listened to along with the fic, giving you an immersive layer to the story. 

Slinging Mozart Sideways / Slinging Mozart Sideways  by justadreamfox [Rated T; 9962 words, Complete 2020]  (recced here)

Some fun facts about this one - firstly, the working title was “gay pianists need to eat” (which I love) and secondly it was part of the 2020 Gift Exchange for Willow_Bird. Excellent fic. Excellent prompt. In which Andrew is in the music business, Neil is a classical cellist (with a British accent) and they bond over Nils Fram. It’s super pretty and the classical music choices are sweet, subtle and sometimes heartwrenching. 

One writer in particular, scribbleb_red, has been prolific in creating playlists for all their longer fics, and some of their Twitter hc fics.  There’s overlap in themes and genres across most of them but here are some of my faves:

Playlist: L'amour parle en fleurs / l’amour parle en fleur by scribbleb_red [Rated M, 61919 words, Complete 2019] (recced here)

Also known as The Lavender AU, this fic is set in the lavender fields of Provence in Southern France and deals with loss and recovery, grief and hope - and that’s exactly what the playlist lays out as well. Intended to accompany the reader through the fic, this playlist is a journey just like the story itself. 

Playlist: (don’t fear) the reaper / (don’t fear) the reaper by scribbleb_red [Rated M, 73111 words, Complete 2019] (recced here) 

for the fic of the same name, in which Andrew and Neil don’t meet in life but in limbo. Andrew is a grim reaper and Neil is the soul he’s meant to be helping cross to the other side. There’s just one issue: Neil isn’t really dead.  

Playlist: monster (under my bed) / monster (under my bed) by scribbleb_red [Rated: M; 1262 Words; Complete; 2020] (recced here)

In which Neil is the monster hiding Andrew’s bed and this changes everything.

not your homeland anymore (2020) for the fic of the same name, inspired by Taylor Swift’s folklore, this angsty fic is still being written and asks the question: what if Andrew hadn’t been there after Baltimore? 

NB: We have not recced this one yet. Please refer to the fic for TWs.

Playlists Based on Characters 

Oh yes, there are some highly creative folks out there exploring their headcanons via the spotify playlist. Here are five of our favourites: 

THE FOXES DEADLIEST INVESTMENT by realpeachy (2019) - Their ain’t no rest for the wicked and this playlist is as relentless, beat-heavy and secretly instigative as Andrew Minyard himself. Some familiar themes with Billie Eilish, Ruelle, Halsey and the like, but some quirky additions like badflower and tedy as well. 

NEIL JOSTEN by Arizona Kestler (2019) - A curious collection of songs on this one, ranging from Kendrick Lamar to Radiohead, AJR to Jack’s Mannequin. It definitely leans into the new-wave emo that many associate with AFTG but it always comes back to the high octane energy we associate with our favourite starting striker. 

yes or no? by jmoriartty (2018) - Could there be a more iconic playlist for andreil? well ok, maybe that’s just this contributor’s taste but having been steadily built through 2018 to 2019, it’s one of the most followed playlists on spotify for AFTG. Two Feet, MISSIO, Twenty One Pilots and grandson are all big hits on this bluesy, gritty, alternative playlist. 

you can call me king by scribbleb_red (2019) - As if any list was complete without a villainous inclusion, like with most of scribble’s lists this one deliberately lays out a journey for Riko Moriyama, his rise and fall. Maybe you’ll also feel Sympathy for the Devil. 

Double Trouble by an.fouda (2019) - Yes, it’s a twinyards playlist and it’s full of absolutely exquisite artist choices and emo hits. Try listening to Night Knuckles by Cavetown or Plastic Joy by Raw Fabrics. It’s a whole new level to this most complex of sibling relationships. 

Playlists Based on the Books 

Some of these are classics - they’ve set the tone for AFTG playlists all over the internets - and it’s fascinating to see how even now people come back to similar tones: alternative rock, grunge, hiphop, the high energy songs that mix a sense of hope and fear and danger. Plug in your headphones and prepare for a ride. Others are more recent and you can very much see how the themes of the music line up over time. If you want a playlist to remind you of the original series, here are some great places to start:

The Foxhole Court (Nora Sakavic) by pjofangirl2  (2017) 

You Are A Pipedream by lokisarmyismydivision (2017)

This is the moment you stop being the rabbit by Warren Vipod (2020) 

[quirkswriting]

witching hour

Overview: Halloween has always been an extra magical time of year for you, and when you happen to run right into a very cute guy at the candy table at the party you're attending then you just know this is going to be one supernaturally good Halloween! And not even a talking cat can ruin it for you. Pairing: Iida Tenya x Fem!Reader (Aged up Supernatural AU!) Word Count: 4.4k Warning(s): A little bit of cursing? And the reader is FEM! So if you are uncomfortable with that please  be aware! Author’s Notes: This is part of the Sweater Weather BNHA Sanctuary Fall Collab 2020! You can find the masterlist here, and please go check it out and give the other fics some love too! They’re all AMAZING!!! This one is unashamedly cheesy, corny, and definitely inspired by Sabrina the Teenage Witch (because that just screams Halloween to me, and I hope it does to you too!)

***

“Hey, I’m home!” you called, walking in through the back door of the house with your shopping bags in hand. You nudged it closed with your elbow and put the bags down before pulling your shoes off. There was no answer, but you could spot a folded piece of paper on the table that would most likely tell you where your uncles could be found. You picked the bags back up and moved them over to the counter before walking back to the table to take a look at the note.

Your name was written across the front in Uncle Toshinori’s neat, blocky handwriting, and as you opened the letter it flew out of your hands and started hovering around your head. Both of your uncles owned fully functional mobile phones, you made sure of it, but sometimes they still preferred doing things the Witch Way.

“Hello, young (Y/N!)” the letter started speaking, your uncle’s voice coming out loud and strong as if he was standing next to you. “Taishiro and I have gone shopping for Halloween gifts for Nemuri’s party! We’ll be home in time for dinner, so save your appetite! See you soon!” As soon as it had finished, the letter exploded into tiny pieces of confetti; you were happy to see that they were tiny little orange pumpkins and black bats, perfect for the time of year. Brushing the confetti off of your sweater, you walked back over the counter where you’d deposited your bags and started pulling everything out so you could start to put it away.

Maybe it was corny, and maybe it was cheesy, but Halloween was hands down your favourite time of year. Everything about the month of October was great; the leaves started changing colours, the temperatures dropped for that perfect sweater weather (for a week or so, at least, before it got too cold), and the fact that this was the one month of the year that all of the weirdness that usually followed you around could be excused as part of the spooky season. Which, okay, not that it was ever really excused by your mortal friends, but still. Being a Witch was never easy, but least Halloween made it easier than normal.

For Witches like you and your uncles Toshinori and Taishiro, Halloween was more than just an excuse to decorate the whole house, dress up in costumes and consume an absurd amount of candy—which you definitely did, you wouldn’t deny that—it was the season when your magic was strongest, and it was a time when you would get together and see all of your friends and family who didn’t live in the Mortal Realm like you did. And this year would be extra fun because instead of going to the family party this year (being held by Uncle Tsunagu, which always promised you’d be bored to tears), you were going to a costume party being thrown by a friend of your uncles.

“Ooh, what did you bring me?” You were shaken out of your thoughts by a voice to your left, and you turned to see Shinsou, your uncles’ deep purple cat, had jumped up onto the counter and made himself at home on one of the empty plastic bags. Sneaking up on everyone else was one of his favourite things to do (aside from take naps, provide unwanted sarcastic commentary, and pretend he didn’t love playing with the cat toys around the house unless he thought he was alone). You rolled your eyes, reaching over to scratch him behind the ears.

“Nothing, you nosy cat,” you told him, and he swatted at you with one of his little white tipped paws. You withdrew your hand, going back to emptying the bags.

“Rude. You leave me all by lonesome, no one to give me food or throw my mice for me, and you don’t even bring something home for me?” he asked. You ignored that. You instead turned to the pile of things on the counter—most of it was Halloween candy you were planning on hiding in your room to snack on when you were studying, but you’d also gone out to get a costume for the party that you were going to. Shinsou walked closer, making his way around the boxes to come and see what you had.

Holding up the costume against your body, you showed it off for the feline. “So? What do you think? I thought it was really cute!” you told him. He looked you up and down, his small face scrunching up.

“You’re going as a Witch? Really? And I thought your uncles were unoriginal,” he said. You pouted, folding the costume and putting it back on the counter. It was a really cute little dress and hat combo that you’d picked up, and you thought it would go perfect with some tights and shoes you had in your closet somewhere.

“Oh yeah? And what are you planning to be for Halloween?” you asked, and Shinsou huffed. He brought one paw up to sweep through the air as he gestured across the kitchen.

“Well, the last time I was human for  Halloween was when my cult—er, my organization was planning to make me Emperor of Earth, and I was a pirate,” he said. You could only imagine Shinsou in an absolutely ridiculous outfit, probably dressed just like Jack Sparrow, right before he was busted by the Witches Council for trying to take over the Mortal World. Sometimes you had to wonder how someone like him could do something like that, but he had this weird ability to talk people into almost anything. “Everyone loved it. But now I’m a cat, so I guess for Halloween I’ll just be a cat who pretends to listen to you whine about how you’re still single and eating candy corn by the bucket.”

“Well if you liked being a pirate so much, why don’t you do that again this year?” you said, huffing slightly. You pointed your finger at Shinsou, concentrating, and then in a poof of smoke and sparkles, he was sitting on the counter in a tiny pirate costume. He stood up and looked himself over, turning in circles. You couldn’t help but laugh as you grabbed your candy and your costume and took off out of the kitchen and started climbing the stairs. You could hear the jingle of Shinsou’s costume from behind you.

“Hey! Come and take this off of me!” you heard him yell, and you only laughed louder as you ran into your room and closed the door before he could get inside.

“Have fun, Shinsou!” you called, and you heard his little claws start scratching at your door. You could hear him grumbling something about no one appreciating his sarcasm and you walked away to go hide your candy from your uncles.

Yep, Halloween was always fun in your house.

***

A week later, you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup before you were supposed to be leaving for the Halloween party. You were sitting at your desk in front of the mirror while Shinsou was on your bed, stretched out and toying with one of the tassels on the end of one of your pillows. You were still happy with your costume choice, no matter how many snarky remarks Shinsou made—there were a lot of them—and dressing up as a Witch was fun! Plus, the outfit itself was very cute, especially since you’d been able to find the tights and cute black shoes you’d been looking for.

You heard a knock on your half open door, and you looked up to see Uncle Taishiro poking his head through the doorway. His face was stretched wide with a grin, and you saw that he’d slicked back his normally unruly blond hair and left his face on display.

“You about ready, kiddo?” he asked, and you nodded. You finished up and quickly packed away your makeup before standing up and picking up your hat to place on your head. Uncle Taishiro stepped fully into your room, and you did a twirl to show off your costume. He gave you a thumbs up, laughing just a little. “Very nice! You make a very lovely Witch, (Y/N), if I do say so.”

“And you make a very handsome Gaston,” you told him, seeing his costume. He brought up an arm to flex, winking at you. You had to admit that his costume did look very good, and very authentic. He most likely magicked that up, but why not? You’d used a little bit of help yourself, just to make the details on your dress sparkle a little bit brighter in the light.

“If you’re both done goofing around, we have a party to get to,” Shinsou interrupted. He made his way across your bed wearing his little tuxedo and bowtie, before jumping off the bed and up into Uncle Taishiro’s arms. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, pulling it over your shoulder and walking out of your room behind your giant of an uncle (you swore there had to be some kind of giant genes in your family, because both of your uncles were humongous—well, Uncle Toshinori used to be, before his… accident, but still). Uncle Toshinori was waiting in the hallway, and he was wearing a skeleton costume that you were pretty sure you had seen him practicing a spell for earlier in the week to make sure it was showing off his real bones. He really did go all out for Halloween and you admired that about him.

“Young (Y/N)! Very cute, you make a very good Witch,” he said, holding up his camera so that he could take a photo. You smiled and let him do it, and you took it from him to take some photos of him and Uncle Taishiro before the three of you left.

It wasn’t long before the three of you (plus Shinsou) were going through the hall closet to get to the entrance to the Other Realm, which was surprisingly empty tonight. Everyone else crossing over had most likely done it earlier in the day, which worked in your favour. Uncle Toshinori entered Nemuri's address into the system and then you all stepped through the door, popping out the other side and right into the party.

“Tai! Toshi!” came the loud voice of the host, Nemuri Kayama, who came over to give them big hugs. She was wearing some kind of leather looking bodysuit—maybe she was Black Widow? You had no idea. She did look good, though. She always did. And when she spotted you, she was quick to bring you in for a hug as well, crushing you up against her chest. It was only for a few seconds (but it felt like a lifetime before you could breathe again, black leather and a big chest were not a good combo for close quarters). Then she was letting you go and while you readjusted your hat, she started ruffling Shinsou’s fur.

“Aw, look at the fancy cat! Are you a butler, Shinsou?” she asked, and he swatted at her hands.

“Absolutely not, I am James Bond, thank you very much,” he told her, puffing himself up to show off his little tuxedo jacket and bowtie. You hid a laugh behind your hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to find the catnip bar and enjoy myself while talking to people who will appreciate me and what I have to say.” And with that he jumped out of Uncle Taishiro’s arms and threaded his way through the crowd. He’d find his way back eventually—that, or you’d end up finding him passed out somewhere or playing with Nemuri’s curtains. Both had happened at family gatherings before.

Uncle Toshinori handed Nemuri the Halloween presents—which was a tradition, exchanging Halloween presents was a big deal among people in the Other Realm—and then he and Uncle Taishiro were being pulled away by friends who had spotted them and wanted to see them. You recognized Keigo and Miruko, who came by the house pretty often, and there was also a man with very, very long blonde hair dressed up as a cowboy and a man with not quite as long dark hair who looked like he had also taken your idea and dressed up as a Witch. You smiled and waved, and Uncle Taishiro told you that you’d be leaving at midnight and one or two of your cousins were hanging around so you should look out for them if you needed anything. You nodded, but there was no way in hell you were going looking for your cousins. With your luck, it would end up being Izuku. Who was fine, really, you liked hanging out with him when you were kids and he was a nice enough guy (you talked at all mandatory family functions and usually stuck together along with cousin Mirio to protest being stuck at the kids table) but you wanted to have fun and he was… well, too quiet for having fun at a party like this. Sometimes you wondered if he really was from the Werewolf side of the family. But you decided to try and have fun on your own. Which… lasted all of about five minutes before you realized there were a lot of people here. Maybe you needed to take some time to make a plan before you approached anyone else to talk.

So here you were, standing by the snack table, trying to decide what you wanted to eat while you formulated your plan of attack. You’d vaguely recognized a few people on your way over there—a lot of your uncles’ friends were here, and they’d all brought people (Siblings? Children? You had no idea) who looked about your age. Or, well, you thought they looked about your age, but you could never really tell. Especially with vampires. You got yourself a cup of punch (which was a very cute little goblet! Witches really do take Halloween very seriously) and you were browsing the wide selection of food before you saw it. The biggest bowl of candy corn that you’d ever seen. And it was calling your name (which it may actually have been, for all you knew Nemuri might have bewitched the bowl to entice people to eat it. Not that Witches ever needed a reason to eat candy corn).

You walked towards it, reaching for the scoop to get yourself some of the nice little treat when your hand collided with something—or someone, actually, who was trying to grab it at the exact same time. You looked up, startled, to see a young man who looked about your age standing on the other side of the table. He was… well, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t absolutely handsome, and you couldn’t help but stare at his face. He had short, neatly styled dark blue hair, with some very uniquely shaped pointed eyebrows that were almost near his hairline. His eyes—which told you that this was a Vampire—were red and shining behind black framed square glasses. His face was square, with a very defined jawline, and you were now realizing that you were just standing here staring at a very pretty, very strange new person who was probably wondering why you were being so weird when all they wanted was candy corn.

Your eyes met his and you smiled at him, shrugging one of your shoulders as you moved your hand back and away from the bowl to let him go first. That caused your hand to brush against his once again, and then all of a sudden the bowl was in the air and there was candy corn everywhere. It took your brain a second to catch up, just as the bowl hit the floor, before you realized he had flipped the bowl over.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the look of absolute shock on his face. His cheeks very quickly turned bright red, and he bent down to pick up the bowl. You looked around, and thankfully the music seemed to be loud enough that no one had really noticed. You pointed your finger and then in a flash of sparks the bowl was full again and the floor corn was in the nearby garbage.

“Didn’t know you were that against candy corn. Did it hurt you when you were a kid?” you asked, the words coming out before you could stop them. You really had to stop hanging out with Shinsou so much, he was rubbing off on you. The stranger blinked, before setting the bowl back down on the table and clearing his throat.

“Um… I was just surprised, is all,” he said. His voice was deeper than you’d thought it would be and it suited him way more than whatever you had imagined in your head. “I didn’t think you would actually be a Witch, though. Your costume is a little on the nose.” Oh, so he wanted to play that kind of game, huh? You reached forward and grabbed a handful of the candy corn as you looked him up and down. He was wearing some kind of… knight costume? Which looked pretty authentic, you had to say. It was white and polished, with gold detailing that looked like leaves all across his chest, and a deep blue cape slung across his shoulders and falling down behind him.

“Mine is on the nose? Are you supposed to be some kind of… prince? I hope that armour isn’t made of silver or you might piss some Werewolves off tonight,” you said, and you were surprised to hear him snort at that. You popped some pieces of candy into your mouth, smiling again, and you saw his cheeks flush once more.

“I’m a knight, I’ll have you know,” he told you. You shrugged. He looked good either way, honestly. “This was my brother’s. Not silver, thankfully. But at least a little more creative than some other costumes.” You frowned, your eyebrows pulling together. So he was being serious when he implied you weren’t creative?

Your train of thought was interrupted, though, when a loud voice yelled “TENYA!” and you looked around, startled. Not too far away was another young looking man with the same colour hair as the man in front of you was waving over at you. He was dressed up as Batman—a very, very good looking Batman with his mask sitting in his lap so you could see his face and how much it resembled the pretty boy in front of you—and he was gesturing towards you. But your name wasn’t Tenya, so it must have been towards the person in front of you. Who was probably named Tenya. You looked between them, and the Vampire in front of you sighed and excused himself. You watched him make his way over to Batman, who nudged him lightly on the arm before they started talking.

You couldn’t help but watch the two of them go back and forth, trying to imagine what they were saying. Batman was making a lot of hand gestures, some in your direction, while Tenya kept very rigidly waving his arm up and down with his hand open and palm flat out. Maybe Batman saw what happened with the candy corn? Or Tenya was supposed to bring him candy corn? You kept eating it yourself.

After a moment or two had passed, you realized that okay, it was probably time to go and find someone else to talk to. Which was sad, because as odd as this Tenya was, he was still very cute and you did like going back and forth with him. But you should probably try and have some fun before you had to leave. Looking around the crowd, you spotted a group of younger people not too far away, and they looked friendly enough—there was another young woman who was dressed up as what looked like a pink fuzzy sheep? Beside another woman dressed as Bo Peep, and a guy dressed up as what looked like Gomez Addams—so you figured it was worth a try. You grabbed a handful of candy for the trip, and you turned to leave. But you didn’t make it two steps before all of a sudden Tenya was back in front of you.

“Um, wait!” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. You nearly jumped. You always forgot how fast Vampires could be; you didn’t know very many back in the Mortal Realm. Batman was coming up behind him, stopping his wheelchair just behind him.

“Is everything okay? Did you forget something?” you asked. Tenya paused, just for a moment, one of his hands coming up to rub at the back of his neck. It looked kind of cute, really, a little flustered and out of place. Vampires were usually old school and old money (from what you knew) so this was unexpected. But not a bad thing. You leaned against the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him.

“Are you four hundred or are you four? You can do this! Come on!” Batman probably meant to whisper that, but he was loud enough for you to hear. Tenya groaned.

“Look, I… yes, I forgot something,” he said. He pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, and for the first time tonight you saw his lips curve up into a smile. You mirrored it, unable to help yourself. “I forgot to tell you that while your costume choice is on the nose, it’s also practical and… it suits you very well.”

Well. That was unexpected, but you weren’t going to complain. You uncrossed your arms and brushed your hands along your dress, smoothing out the fabric. “Yours does too, Prince Charming.” You knew he’d said he was a knight, but you couldn’t resist. Batman laughed from behind Tenya, who turned to shush him.

“She’s great! Don’t let this go to waste, Tenya,” he said, slapping Tenya on the back. The armour made a loud clang, and Tenya swatted at Batman’s head. The older (you thought? Maybe? God, Vampire aging sucked because no one could ever tell how old anyone really was) blue haired man waved at you, before taking off across the room. The armoured male turned back to you, shrugging.

“Please excuse my brother. He’s… probably drunk,” he said. You laughed loudly, waving your hand in front of you.

“It’s okay! He’s pretty funny,” you said. That got a smile out Tenya, and you were happy that he’d come back over. You grabbed another handful of candy and offered him some. He took a few pieces, and the two of you eased into conversation. You found out his name was in fact Tenya, he was definitely an old money Vampire, and he was planning on studying History (since he had already lived through a lot of it, why not get a good grade out of it? But seeing how animated he got discussing his passion for all things old and dead in History books, you thought it was kind of cute).

Before you knew it, hours had flown by. It felt like minutes, really, and you were definitely happy you hadn’t ditched the candy table to try your luck with the other people at the party. You were just getting to learn about Tenya’s brother’s wild antics as a soldier wearing the armour you’d admired earlier when you heard your uncle Toshinori call, “Young (Y/N)! We need to get heading back! Time to go!” You looked over your shoulder to see your uncles waving to you. Uncle Toshinori was holding Shinsou in his arms, and his jacket was unbuttoned and it looked like the cat had a very good time because he was currently passed out. And most likely purring. You nodded, sending them a thumbs up.

“It’s been nice talking with you,” you said as you turned back to face Tenya. His smile had turned into a frown, and he nodded. “Those are my uncles, I gotta get going. Have to head back before the door to the Mortal Realm closes for the night. But this has been really fun, Prince Charming.”

“Yes, of course, please get home safely,” he told you, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed that he hadn’t asked for your number. But at least it would be a cute story to tell your friends, and maybe you’d see him next Halloween? Hopefully? You hiked your bag further up your shoulder and started walking towards your waiting uncles. But after a few steps you stopped. Did you really want Shinsou to make fun of you for hanging out by the candy and pining after a Vampire when you could have done something about it? Absolutely not. Tenya was cute, you both liked candy corn, and how cute would this story be to tell when people asked you how you started dating?

Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, but you were gonna go for it.

You turned on your heel and walked back over to Tenya. You dug one hand into your bag, digging through it until your hand closed around what felt like a pen, and thankfully was a pen when you pulled it out to take a look. You took Iida by the wrist, pulling his hand close to you, and clicked the pen so you could scribble your name and number across his palm.

“This is my number. Let me know the next time you’re free, and maybe sometime before next Halloween we can go get some candy corn together and not have it end up on the floor,” you said, drawing a little heart underneath your number. You looked up at him and smiled, and you were happy to see his mouth hanging slightly open as he looked down at his hand. You squeezed his wrist once before you let it go. Uncle Taishiro called your name again, and you waved at the boy in front of you before turning around and following your uncles out of the party. You kept that big smile on your face the entire time, and pretended you didn’t notice the looks your uncles were giving each other behind you.

Yeah, Halloween was definitely your favourite time of year.

[shianhygge-imagines]

Sundown 勿忘草 [Reno/Reader]{Final Fantasy VII}

AN: I’ve been wanting to write a Reno one shot, but never really managed to get my lazy ass into gear. This is a long one (though at this point, I’m just known for really long story posts... let me know if you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing). I was debating splitting it into parts, but you all know how bad I am with posting updates to any of my fics written in parts. Also, can anyone tell me why I keep seeing “#reno sinclair” in the Reno tags? Since when was Reno’s surname Sinclair? None of the Turks have last names that I recall. 

Was hoping to get it to 10,000 words, but I’m around 2,200 short :P 

Title is “Sundown Wasurenagusa” meaning “Sundown Forget-me-Nots; ”Forget-me-nots meaning “True Love” in hanakotoba (Japanese language of flowers)

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you continued to read through the various reports scattered upon the table before you, scribbling down information into your work notebook that would act as relevant evidence to support your proposal for several structural upgrades to the plates. Though it was a concern that your boss, Reeve Tuesti, had brought up during various board meetings, it seemed that the executives of Shinra Electric Power Company would do nothing without a formal report containing sufficient evidence to support immediate action.

Already over worked from his other projects, Reeve had personally asked you to oversee the project proposal. As a resident of the Sector 5 Slums, you felt that it was your duty to do everything you could to make life for your fellow under city residents better. So, despite the fact that you would be working on the project alone, you accepted Reeve’s task.

Now, sitting at a corner table on the Relaxation Floor, you were almost regretting taking on the task alone. Outside the large windows overlooking Midgar, the sun had long since set, the city lights and mako lighting up the dark space below in a sea of various colors. Most Shinra employees had left the building hours ago, yet here you were, still working, dinner purchased from the cafeteria sitting off to the side and half gone.

After reading another set of reports, you paused in your scribbling to slam your head non too gently on the cafeteria table, “You’d think with all the complaints we’ve had about falling metal pieces from the plate almost killing slum residents, that the company would immediately do something.” No one responded to your muttering. Not that you expected an empty space to provide commentary to your misery and exasperation. So, you stayed in that position, debating whether to call it a night so that you could catch the last train home.

“Well, color me surprised, I didn’t think any of you pencil pushers liked staying after hours.” Just when you were about to relax, a sly and cocky voice decided to interrupt your solitude.

Jolting up with a twitch of your eye, you glared at the redhead who approached your corner table, suit and dress shirt unbuttoned and showing off an ample amount of chest. Had you not lived in the Sector 5 Slums for your entire life, you probably wouldn’t have recognized the man as a Turk. Besides, the people at Shinra liked to gossip. Red hair pulled into a weird ferret tail looking ponytail, goggles resting on the crown of his head, red marks under his eyes, and a severe need of a slap to the face… yeah, there was no doubt in your mind that the man steadily approaching your table was Reno of the Turks… and the Turk second in command.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and began to straighten out the papers on the table, putting them into a pile to slip neatly into your briefcase. “Just my luck. The entire cafeteria is empty, Turk. Why are you bothering me?”

A little hostile, but you couldn’t help it. Having grown up watching these strange men in suits harass Aerith… you didn’t exactly have a kind opinion of them. Plus… they were unwaveringly loyal dogs to Shinra, something that didn’t sit well with you.

Reno feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand upon his chest, “Why the hostility? It was an honest question.” The redheaded Turk smirked and lifted his hand to raise his pinky, “Pinky swear.”

Reigning in your frustration, you huffed and propped your head upon a raised hand, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Yeah… yeah… Sorry.” After inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds, and listening as a chair was dragged out from the other side of the table, you opened your eyes to stare tiredly at the now seated Turk. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you company, of course.” The cocky smirk widened as Reno leaned back and propped his feet upon the table, narrowly missing your half finished dinner.

Reaching a hand out to grab the remains of your dinner, you quietly started to finish said meal off, “Uh…huh… sure. I buy that.” You remarked sarcastically, eyes not leaving Reno’s form. “So Reno of the Turks decides to just randomly pop on by to keep a Shinra office worker company as they work overtime… sure…”

The grin didn’t falter as his blue eyes wandered to observe you, “It would seem so.”

“Right.” You muttered, finishing the last of your meal before standing up with your bag and tray, “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a train to catch.” You weren’t sorry, but you still called out to him as you walked away, “See ya, I guess.” Hopefully not.

“You can bet on it!” Reno called back to you, watching as you threw away your trash and left the Relaxation Floor. As the doors slid close, you caved and turned around to look back at Reno, meeting his gaze just as the doors closed. Why did you feel like that was more than a promise?

…

…

…because it was.

The two days after were supposed to have been your days off. Yeah, perhaps you still had to structure your formal proposal a little more, but at least you were surrounded by fellow under city residents instead of Shinra employees… yeah, no, that was perhaps a little harsh of you. Not all Shinra employees were like the Turks and executives. But you were still bitter at how content the employees were with this company. It’s sickening.

When you left your home across from Leaf House on your second day off, you had fully intended to spend the day stocking up on groceries and helping either Aerith or Miss Folia. What you didn’t expect was to run into a duo of Turks when you stepped over the bridge to Aerith’s house. The duo had stopped to stand just outside of Aerith’s house, clearly speaking to one another and absolutely intending to enter the residence. The moment you’d cleared the bridge and walked into sight, you paused with wide eyes and gingerly took a step back, hoping to walk away without drawing any of their attention towards you.

You didn’t want to be seen outside work. Much less while you were wearing the sundress that Aerith had insisted you get for yourself. It was girly and feminine, and not at all professional. But still, Aerith had asked you to bring her flower baskets back home while she helped look for the Leaf House kids, who had all gone on patrol again.

Unfortunately, the bridge creaked under your foot, and two pairs of eyes were suddenly turned to stare you. “Uh…” you faltered for a moment before raising a hand in greeting, “Hi?” The end of the word pitched up into a squeak and you suddenly wanted to dive off the bridge and escape.

Recognition appeared in a familiar redhead’s eyes, “Pencil pusher! Didn’t think I’d see you here of all places!” The bald man with the shades coughed and glanced towards his coworker with raised brows.

Growling indignantly, you stomped a foot and approached the two Turks, “Don’t call me that!”

“And why not? You never gave me your name.” Reno pouted dramatically, “How’s it fair that you have mine, but I don’t know yours?”

Your expression doesn’t budge the slightest, “It’s Y/N. I work in the Urban Development Department. And I know yours because there’s only one redheaded Turk that draws in so much gossip.”

That infuriating smirk was back on Reno’s face as he pat the taller man’s shoulder roughly, “Ya hear that, Rude? The people know me.” Rude looked like he wanted to say something, if the slightest twitch of the brow and parting of the lips was any indicator. Unfortunately, the stoic looking Turk didn’t get a chance to respond before his partner opened his mouth again. “So… Y/N, huh? Cute name, cute face… it’s a wonder that I haven’t seen you in HQ before yesterday.” The statement seemed innocent enough, except for the strange look in his eyes.

For Shinra’s version of secret service, you already knew where this line of inquiry was leading to. So you stared at Reno dispassionately, “Yup, it’s an absolute wonder that a Turk such as you, who has  to work outside the building most days, has never seen my face in the five years that I’ve been employed at Shinra. It’s not as if I’m just a faceless grunt among a few thousand office workers who are also cooped up in their offices during the work day.” Rolling your eyes, you continued forward, practically bulldozing your way past Reno when he didn’t move aside with his partner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You waltzed up the front steps, raising the weaved basket in your hand, “I’ve got a basket to drop off. If you’re looking for Aerith, she’s not home, yet.”

There’s a sound of a metal baton snapping to full length behind you, “If you hurt her…”

Sighing in annoyance, you turned to glare at Reno, who seemed to look like he was going to charge at you with the stun baton. Rude, likewise, was in a combat ready position. “And why the hell would I hurt her?” You hissed, propping a hand on your waist. “Don’t just come to random conclusions. I’m simply here as a favor to her, she’s in the town helping Leaf House.” Waving your hand in a shooing motion, you turned to open the front door, “You Turks are all about the mission, right? So, go!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so antagonistic… maybe you shouldn’t have turned around. Because the next thing you know, your arm is yanked backwards, and you’re suddenly pinned facedown to the front porch floor, arms restrained behind you and the painfully tingly end of the baton jabbed into your back. The scream that left your lips was one of outrage, fear, and pain. “What the hell!” You cry out, tears in your eyes as you try to struggle.

“Y/N!” The front door of the Gainsborough household pulled open to reveal Elmyra, who cried out in horror at the scene before her. Before long, the blonde woman had settled on shoving Reno off you, “Get off of her! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Startled into falling off of you, Reno merely stared wide eyed at the enraged woman, who gestured for you to run as she laid into the jerk with her words.

With Reno no longer pinning you down, your limbs were able to finally take on a more natural position, though the stabbing pain from having them forced into an unnatural position still remained even as you clambered to your feet and sprinted away from the house. Rude didn’t bother to stop you, going so far as to step way off the path to let you through. You didn’t look back as you ran, not even stopping to greet Aerith as she crossed the wooden bridge.

When you were safe in your shabby second floor apartment, you did everything you could to get rid of the pain in your limbs, stretching them out and massaging them.

No such luck.

The pain remained, following you into the next day as you prepared to head back to work. Luckily for you, your job mostly consisted of office work. Signing and arranging paperwork, project reports, and other desk work.

Unluckily for you, you were the only person in the department with your first name. When you returned to your office from lunch, rubbing an aching limb, Reno awaited you, leaning against your desk. The moment you saw him, you paused and walked out of the office intent on avoiding the Turk that had caused you bodily harm.

From behind, Reno sprinted after you, “Y/N! Buddy! Wait up!”

“I don’t see you. I don’t hear you. You are absolutely, definitely not following me right now.” You muttered, not turning your head from its fixed position staring straight and down. If I can just get my ass to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone. If I can just get my slow ass, in these stupid heels, to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone.

Reno, for his part, had no problems keeping up with you, catching up and strolling along beside you, making you growl inwardly in frustration. “Y/N, c’mon. I’m sorry about yesterday. Slow down, you’re going to-”

An uneven part of the carpet failed to catch your notice until your foot caught it, sending you sprawling toward. Ah shit. This is gonna hurt. You muttered to yourself, bracing yourself for impact and closing your eyes… only for the impact to come sooner than expected… and less painful than you expected… I’m still upright? You questioned yourself, opening your eyes to find yourself being held up by Reno, face practically buried in his open shirt and his arms gently holding onto both of your arms.

“See.” The cocky expression was gone now. Only mild annoyance remained as he made sure you could stand on your own two feet, roughly kicking at the uneven carpet in an effort to smooth it down.

“I… thanks.” You finished lamely, slightly unsure as to what had just happened, but glad that you were saved a few bruises… and probably a more severe injury to your limbs.

Reno raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “Can we talk now?”

You wanted to say no, the memory of being pinned down and tasered still fresh in your mind, but by the Planet, the jerk had just saved you from further injury, hadn’t he? The heavy sigh and slump of your shoulder betrayed your reluctance even as you agreed to speak to the redheaded Turk. “Yeah, fine.”

The Turk second in command seemed surprised that you’d agreed, a breathy and relieved “Great” leaving his mouth as he followed your lead back to your small office.

As you walked the short distance back to your office, you kept a bit of distance from Reno whilst attempting to block out the stares from your fellow colleagues. I can practically hear the gossip spreading now. Oh, did you hear? Y/N’s in a relationship with Reno. Oh, Y/N probably got in trouble with the company if the Turks are investigating them. The thoughts only worsened when you entered your office and Reno closed the door behind him. And that’s my cue to put as much distance as possible between us. You thought to yourself, shuffling to stand behind the desk. Yes, because a waist high wooden structure is enough protection against a Turk…smart. Reallll smart.

“You know, I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Reno looked slightly put out and frustrated at the fact that you had immediately shuffled behind your desk. And you had to hand it to him… despite his reputation as a bit of spazz, his observation skills were fitting for a member of the Turks.

“Tell that to my poor arms.” You spat, rolling your shoulders in another unsuccessful attempt to alleviate the pain that remained from yesterday.

Reno deflates a little when you wince in pain, and lightly scratches his cheek. “Yeah… about that… my bad.”

“Your bad…” you mimicked back at Reno with a hint of disbelief. “Heck yeah it’s your bad! I mean what the hell! What kind of a reason did you have for assaulting a civilian!?”

“That’s uh… we were assigned to look after Aerith… and the way you were acting yesterday… I thought you did something to her.” The explanation that came pouring out of the redheaded Turk’s mouth was lacking, but you let him continue because oh boy did the man sound like a certified walking mess. “And um… I reacted too harshly… which is totally my bad. And I know that’s no excuse, and I’ve already gotten an earful from Elmyra, Rude, and Tseng, so… what I’m saying is… I’m sorry.”

…he looks like a kicked puppy. You muttered to yourself, heaving a sigh as you sat down at your desk and allowed your posture to relax just the slightest. “Fine, apology accepted, but my shoulders still hurt like I got trampled by a fiend. How the hell do I get it to stop?” Apology vaguely accepted, you just wanted him to stop giving you that look.

“I uh… figured that you’d still be in pain.” Reno winced before sheepishly slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful glowing green materia, “It might be overkill, but casting Cure will get rid of the ache-ah… if you’re okay with it?”

You wondered offhandedly what Elmyra had said to Reno for his behavior to have shifted so drastically towards you. Look at the Turk now, you figured that there was no harm in befriending the man. Besides, you probably needed more outgoing friends anyways. “If it’ll get rid of the ache, go ahead, Reno.”

The smile on his face was almost boyish as his arm glowed faintly, casting the healing spell on you. “One full body stress reliever coming right up!” Hm… maybe he’s not that bad after all. The spell was like a wave of relief, not only alleviating the pain from yesterday, but also taking away the tension from months and months of stress. “Feeling better?”

The groan of relief that escaped your lips was probably enough answer for Reno as you stretched, a smile on your lips appearing at the redheaded Turk’s chuckle. “Much better, thank you.”

A moment passed between the two of you until the silence was broken by the sound of Reno’s phone. You couldn’t see the caller ID, but by the way he picked up almost immediately, you guessed that it was his boss, Tseng. “Hey-” The redheaded man was cut off from his greeting as he listened, “Yeah, I just finished…” Blue eyes met yours as he mouth, ‘got to go.’

Reno started to move just as you gave him a farewell salute, smirking when the Turk simply winked back at you before the door to your office closed.

Although you initially didn’t expect the day to turn out so well, you went back to work in a good mood. I guess being friendly to Reno won’t be such a bad thing. As the day passed, your mind absentmindedly wondered when you would see him again.

December 11th… Twenty-four days and seven hours later

“Oho, staying late again?”

A familiar voice broke you out of your furious scribbling while you once again stayed late to progress further in the piles of maintenance reports on the plates. And while you were tired from staring at black and white letters all day, you pushed aside the cranky attitude to at least smile and greet Reno as he approached your usual corner table. “Hi, Reno.” You raise a brow at the drink tray in his hands and gesture for him to sit wherever. “Late night for you, too?”

Reno shrugged and took the seat just to your left, setting the tray down on a spot free of paperwork, “Turks are always on call.” He handed over a covered paper cup, “Coffee?”

“Oh boy, yes please.”  You beamed ecstatically when the redhead handed you the heavenly drink. “I’ve been working on this project proposal for the past… I don’t know how long… and it’s just… so much.”

Taking a sip of his own caffeinated drink, Reno took a peek at one of the files sitting on the table. “Huh… ‘Maintenance Walkways In Hazardous State of Disrepair’…’Infested with Mako Mutated Fiends’… I forgot you worked in urban development. What’s Reeve got ya doin that requires so many late nights?”

Despite his asking, Reno made no further attempts at reading the papers on the cafeteria table. Pursing your lips, you eyed the Turk second in command for a long moment, regarding him with as much suspicion as he had directed towards you nearly a month ago. It was well known throughout Shinra that the corporation had bigger goals and aspirations than to serve the people. There were many in the company that truly believed in the work that Shinra did, but as someone who had lived in the slums all your life, and one of the project leaders within Shinra’s Urban Development Division, you held no such illusions of grandeur. With the exception of Reeve, the higher ups in Shinra had no qualms of neglecting the public, only paying attention to the people beneath their feet in order to satisfy their egos and prevent rowdy citizens from forming anti-Shinra groups like AVALANCHE. Reno, a Turk, had to answer to the President and Vice President of Shinra directly, and everything they do is by the will of the two highest powers in the company. If you told Reno of the plate restoration project… would it cause a negative reaction within the company?

“If I tell you, Reno… you have to keep quiet about it.” Despite being tired, you leveled the red head with a grave stare.

Reno raised his arms and displayed his palms out in a ‘I’m harmless’ manner. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with an assassination attempt or terrorist attack, my lips are sealed.” The Turk shrugged, “And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I mostly came here to keep you caffeinated… and to ask if you wanted to grab dinner sometime?”

Well… that came out of left field.

The blush that rose to your cheeks made your embarrassment pretty clear to Reno, who hummed and leaned forward to observe you closer. “Huh… Red’s a good look on you.”

The wink that the Turk sent your way did not help you calm down. “That’s not… uh… why?” Why was Reno asking you out to dinner? You’d known each other for all of twenty something days… not that it was completely unusual for individuals your age to go on dates… if this even was a date.

“I figure you could do with a night free of worries.” Reno explained, now positioning himself to lean on the table towards you. “Plus I get to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”

You raised a hand to stop his flirting, knowing the rumors that spread throughout the company of Reno’s flirtatious ways. “I accept, but it’s just dinner, okay? I shouldn’t stay out too late.”

The red head seemed happy that you accepted, but pouted nonetheless, “Well then… that’s boring. I was thinking of taking you out drinking with Rude and I.”

You gesture towards the paperwork all over the table, “I have to get the work done eventually, Reno.”

“Fine…” the sigh that left Reno sounded more like a whine than acceptance. The mischievous smirk did nothing to ease your concerns as Reno stood up to help you clean up the piles of paper and notes. “C’mon, the sooner we clean up here, the sooner we can get some grub into your growling stomach.”

“My stomach is not-” Gurrrggghhh… You blushed crimson when your stomach cried out for food.

“You were saying?” Reno raised a brow, mirth glinting in his blue eyes as you tried to act nonchalantly.

“…” Snatching the last of the paperwork on the table and shoving it into your bag, you sniffed in embarrassment, “We’re dropping this stuff off in my office before we go anywhere.”

The red headed Turk actually had the audacity to smirk and salute you.

… Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in a car heading towards Sector Eight… Although Reno had advertised the outing as a dinner between just the two of you, the two of you somehow found yourselves seated in the back seats of the vehicle while Rude drove and Tseng sat in shotgun. Glancing to the side at Reno, he seemed at a loss for words for once, blue eyes glaring sulkingly at the back of Tseng’s head.

“So, Y/N, as I understand it, you work closely with Reeve Tuesti?” Tseng asked, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror despite its angle.

Somehow, you felt like you were about to get interrogated by Reno’s ‘parents,’ if the groan of exasperation from the red head beside you wasn’t enough of a give away.

“Um… I would say closely enough. I’m one of his project leaders, but even that title can be grossly overestimated.” The explanation leaves your lips before you can so much as think, “Because I work on projects that focus on the slums, most of my time is spent doing research and putting together proposals for projects that urgently need to be addressed.” Not that any of my proposals have been accepted thus far. You left the last statement unsaid, and your bitterness at the company unheard. Still, the discontent must have shown on your face, as Tseng started to speak again.

“Do you not like your job?” Such a simple question, but not something you could answer simply. The pleasant smile on the Turk commander’s face, which you glimpsed from the side view mirror, told you that he was well aware that you would have to expand your answer.

Wincing, you turned your gaze away to stare out the window as the car pulled off the highway. “I don’t dislike it, no… but I took the job as project leader in order to help make a difference for my community. But every project proposal that I’ve drawn up and presented has been turned down by the people that have a say in the company.” The sneer that started to form froze before smoothing into a less intense expression as you took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“If you only wanted to help your community, then why take a job at Shinra? And why didn’t you simply quit?” Tseng was prodding at you, knowing that you knew what he was doing.

“Uh, Boss? Bit of a touchy subject, yeah?” Reno protested, sending very clear glares at Tseng’s way.

The Turk commander’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles, “My apologies, Y/N. I didn’t mean to press you.”

Didn’t mean to press me, my ass! What the hell is this? Another round of ‘Y/N is a suspicious person?’ You thought with a lot of snark, outwardly shrugging, “You Turks certainly do live up to your reputation.” When Tseng rose a brow and Reno stared at your questioningly, you elaborated with another shrug, “The questioning… the false pretenses… you guys are very good at what you do, but…” Sighing, you shook your head and decided to shut your mouth, “Nevermind. Forget it. So long as you’re good to Elmyra and Aerith, I don’t give a damn if you guys restrain me and take me in for questioning.”

“…I thought I already said sorry for that!” Reno pouted, a wounded expression on his face.

The car stopped in front of a restaurant, but you were no longer hungry. Glancing down at your watch, you feigned a sigh, “Well, looks like I won’t be joining you guys for dinner tonight. I just realized that I had something to do in Sector 5.”

“Wait… hold on-”

“Would you like us to give you a lift?” Rude offered, cutting Reno off from his protests.

Bowing your head, you made to get out of the vehicle. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine taking the train back. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll see you three at work tomorrow.”

With that, you slid out of the car, shutting the door with as little force necessary before strolling down the street towards the train station. After turning the corner, you paused and sighed, shaking your head at the dinner plans. If you were being honest, you were actually quite excited to have dinner with Reno. He had turned out to be more thoughtful and intuitive than you had first pinned him as. Maybe we can have dinner alone next time. Suddenly hopeful, you resumed your gait towards the train station. If you hurried, you could catch the next train back and be in time to eat at the restaurant around the corner from your home.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out to you, accompanied by the sound of sprinting dress shoes, just as you were about to enter the train platform.

“Reno?!” You stared at the red head as he sprinted the last few meters to stop in front of you, perplexed and worried that he’d run all the way to the train station. The people sharing the train platform stared at the pair of you even as the train pulled into the station. “I… um… thought you were going to have dinner with Rude and Tseng? Did you need something?” You asked, glancing towards the train as it opened its doors.

“Y-you…” Reno gasped, clearly panting for breath despite the fact that he was supposed to be used to this. “You don’t work tomorrow.”

Tilting your head to the side, you admired Reno for a moment, pleased with his listening skills during the times that you spoke. “You’re right. No, I don’t.” You watched as the passengers all started boarding the train. “Reno… I have to catch this train, what is it?”

“Let me walk you home!” the red headed Turk suggested, straightening up and gently taking your wrist in his.

“Wait… What?” What the hell-

“It’ll be fun.” Reno didn’t give you much of a choice, as he led you aboard the train, careful not to tug on your arm too roughly. Once the doors slid close, the red head smirked at your completely baffled expression, “I promised you a dinner date, didn’t I?”

Your turned red as you stuttered, completely conscious of the stares incoming from the other passengers. “But what about Rude and Tseng? How are you going to get home after?”

Reno grinned, “They’re the ones who ruined our plans in the first place, so of course I’m ditching ‘em. And if I need to head home, I’ll just head back with the infantrymen stationed in Sector 5. So don’t worry.” Then, as if realizing that your face was growing more and more red because he was now holding your hand and had moved just a breath away, Reno coughed and backed up. Letting go of your hand, the embarrassed Turk raised a hand to scratch his cheek in the same nervous tic that you’d noticed before. “Anyways, let’s find a seat, okay? It’s been a long day for you… so if you want to take a breather…” Reno’s voice trailed off as the two of you shuffled through the cart to find a pair of empty seats.

Once seated, you sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable bench. “Five years ago, I was living with my parents in the Sector 7 Slums. My father was an infantryman in Shinra’s army, and my mother was just a regular housewife. Around that time, fiend attacks had mysteriously started to increase… and people started to go missing. My mother went missing one night, and my father was a part of the infantry that was sent to investigate.” The dull ache in your chest increased as you thought back to the events years ago. “Neither of the two came back, and suddenly I was alone. But… I wasn’t the only one who lost a loved one that day.”

“So, that’s when you decided to do something to help your community?” Reno muttered, having turned to pull you into a hug, “But why Shinra? The slums have neighborhood watches that you could have joined…. Oh… eh… but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not up to it.”

Leaning your head to rest on Reno’s shoulder, you chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about walking on eggshells with me, Reno. I mostly gave Tseng a hard time because he was being too nosey.”

“Well… that’s good to know.” The Turk gave a light hearted laugh of his own, relaxing in his mannerisms. “Felt like I was standing on trial for a moment there.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed Reno in the side lightly. “Drama queen. But anyways, after mom and dad disappeared, a SOLDIER and his protege were assigned to hunt down the fiends. Before they started their hunt, they made a point to visit all the families that lost someone from the fiends attacks. It was sweet of them, taking the time to check up on us. And it’s because of them that I decided to work at Shinra. That if those two truly believed in the company that employed them, that I would be able to make a difference if only I had those same resources.” The smile on your face turned bitter once you started to think about those two. “After three years, I found out later that both mentor and mentee were quite popular in Midgar… and that they had died.”

“I think I know the two you’re talking about.” Reno muttered, gaze taking on a far away glint. “It’s good to know that they left behind a legacy.”

“They left behind more than a legacy.” You whispered with a fond smile, “Zack’s fanclub became the inspiration for Sector 5’s neighborhood watch. They all wield wooden replicas of Angeal’s sword.”

“A new generation of heroes, huh?” Reno smirked and closed his eyes, “I bet Zack would be ecstatic.” Blue eyes suddenly meet yours, a brightness in them as Reno addressed you, “Be honest, were you part of that fanclub?”

“And if I was?” You raised a brow, glad that the tone of conversation had shifted back to something light hearted.

Reno pouted and slumped in his seat, pulling you along as he playfully whined, “Where’s my fanclub? I want groups of people singing my praises, too!”

“Now you’re just being silly.” You chided, amused by the man’s antics. When Reno continued to pout, you rolled your eyes, playing along. “Fine. Then from now on, you can count me as your first fanclub member.” You raised your head to look him in the eye, “Happy now?”

The hug tightened, but Reno stuck out his tongue in reply. “Eh… I don’t think I can handle having a fanclub. Too much noise. Nah. I’m good.”

This time, you didn’t bother holding back your strength when elbowing him.

…… Around twenty minutes later, the pair of you departed the train with the rest of its passengers, and found yourself seated at your favorite noodle restaurant in Sector 5. Although it was thirty minutes before closing, the boss and chef knew you well enough to take your orders without much of a fuss. While the food was being prepared, you and Reno swapped stories about work and random weird stories.

“-I’m serious about the doomrats! They’re always appearing in Sector 7, stealing random shit and everything! My entire childhood was spent with threats of doomrats coming to steal my toys! My friend, Eli, her entire toy house was taken when her side of the sector was overrun with the pests!” You laughed in between bites of noodles.

“But that’s nowhere near as bad as having to deal with Hojo!” Reno protested, a string of noodles slipping out of his mouth to hang against his mouth. “The guy just takes things without telling anyone and somehow it returns with a bunch of stains on it! It’s like he has no regard for anything outside of his research.”

Your brain brought up a memory of passing Professor Hojo in the hallway once, and you let out a full body shiver. “Ugh… yeah… he does give off that whole… egotistic mad scientist vibe… sometimes, I wonder what the hell is so important that we have to devote so many floors to his research lab.”

“Y/N?” Reno’s humor suddenly disappears.

You blink, startled by the change, “Yeah?”

“No matter what happens… stay away from Hojo, okay?” There’s some concern in his eyes and tone, but he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t know how else to respond to a somber Reno than to reluctantly nod your head, “Yeah. Okay. He gives me the creeps, so that’s not a problem.”

“I mean it, Y/N. If anyone in the company tells you to bring something to Hojo, you refuse. And if it’s a higher up, you come to me first.” The intensity in his stare is startling.

“Got it, Reno.” Not knowing what to do, you reached out to lightly poke his cheek, “C’mon, I know you have your own reason to be concerned, but I work in urban development. There’s little to no chance that I would have to cross paths with Hojo. So, let’s finish our noodles and stop worrying, okay?”

Reno pauses for a brief moment, taking in a breath and letting it out, a small smile making an appearance again. “Okay. Fine.” Reaching into his pocket, Reno pulls out more than enough gil for your meal and stands up, leaving the money on the table and offering a hand to you, “Let’s getcha back home, okay? It’s gettin late.”

Trailing after the red headed Turk, you stared at his back with a questioning stare. Though you pretended like the sudden shift in attitude from Reno hadn’t alarmed you, your thoughts kept shifting to linger upon the warning that Reno had wanted to make sure you understood. I feel like… something bad will happen if I don’t listen to him… When Reno stopped just outside your apartment building across from Leaf House, you tilted your head to the side, “Why am I not surprised that you know where I live? That’s kind of creepy, ya know?”

Reno startled, spluttering excuses as he let go of your hand and backed up, the warmth from his palm instantly being missed. “I ugh… You know it’s my job-and I just wanted-cause Tseng’s super paranoid about people close to-I’m just gonna shut up now.” The Turk second in command stopped his muttering when he noticed the teasing glint in your eyes, “Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“C’mon, Reno. You think I was going to miss my chance at teasing you?” The grin on your face was infectious, prompting Reno to return your easy-going smile.

Gesturing to the two story building, Reno bowed, “I will rest easy knowing that you got home safely, my lady.”

“Oh my!” You gasped, a hand raised to rest against your chest in mock surprise, “What a gentleman!”

There was a silence before the two of you burst into laughter that was probably too loud for that time of night. From down the street, you could hear one of the residents open their window and shout, “Fer cryin out loud, would ya lovebirds shut up! People are tryin ta sleep!”

Stifling your laugh, you practically danced towards the metal stairway leading up to the second floor apartments. “I guess that’s my cue to get inside.”

Reno’s eyes glinted as he stared after you fondly, “Yeah…” There was brief pause before he spoke up again, “Hey, Y/N? Let’s go out for a proper date… maybe, tomorrow or the day after?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled as the agreement fell from your lips without much thought except the want to get to know the man before you better. “I’ll be at my friend’s place celebrating her birthday tomorrow, but I don’t have plans for the day after.”

“Great!” Reno gasped, seemingly breathless as he took a step towards you, “I’ll pick you up at 10, then?”

“Ten works for me!” You agreed, watching the red headed Turk as he closed the distance between the two of you, closing your eyes as you expected something to happen, only to feel a hand rest on your cheek before pulling away.

Confused, you opened your eyes just in time to catch Reno’s smile as he turned away. “I don’t kiss on the first date.” A wink is sent your way as he rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You don’t know if you want to squeal at the gesture, or punch him for leaving you hanging. Biting your bottom lip in a manner befitting anticipation, you turned to climb up the rest of the stairs with a smile, very much looking forward to the next two days.

When Reno returned to Shinra HQ for the night, Elena would make note of the stupidly happy grin on her senpai’s face… even when he was handed a datapad containing the plans for the next night’s operation.

December 12th

The following night…

You grinned as you watched your friend, Selene, open up her gifts from each member of your friend group. She had just been accepted at her dream career of being a planetary conservationist, and was due to move away from Midgar tomorrow. Though her apartment was empty, you and your friends had brought enough food for the lot of you while you all celebrated and bid your goodbyes to a long time friend.

“Let us know if you meet any handsome guys where you are!” you heard someone joke, patting Selene on the back with a teasing grin. “City men aren’t romantic at all!”

“Hey! I resent that! We’re not all bad!”

“No… she’s right. We’re not romantic.”

Maybe it was the good vibes and laughter that prevented you all from noticing when the ground started shaking. Maybe you had all indulged a little too much on the alcohol. Regardless, no one was laughing when a large steel beam crashed through the apartment roof and landed on top of where Selene had been standing with her parents.

The room descended into shocked silence as all eyes stared at the metal beam…the crumbling ceiling…the limbs sticking out from under the mess of rebar, concrete, and wire…and the blood… All of your faces went pale at the realization of what happened. And then, the panic.

“Oh god!”

“Selene!”

“Someone call emergency services!”

“Help me lift this thing up!”

“So… much blood.”

Stumbling backwards, your eyes darted from the rubble to the moving bodies in the apartment before looking at the hole in the apartment ceiling. The beam could only have been from the plate… But how had it fallen? Had a piece been loose this entire time? …Had this been your fault? You were in charge of the plate maintenance project… you hadn’t read any reports about structure integrity over Sector 7… but maybe there had been something hidden. You shook your head in denial. No, the project proposal was sitting on your desk at Shinra HQ, nearly finished except for the conclusion. There had been nothing irregular about the plate above the Sector 7 slums. Not even when you’d gone personally with the inspectors to investigate.

And then, above the shouting voices and confusion within the apartment, you heard it. Helicopters and gunfire… people screaming outside.

“No…” you whimpered, eyes wide as you sprinted for the front door, throwing the latch open and ramming yourself into the metal door in your rush to get out onto the apartment balcony hallway.

Now that the door was wide open… now that you stood with a view of the Sector 7 Slums, the cacophony of screams and noises reached your ears with no problem. The plate above groaned as explosions detonated along the underside of its structure, sending larges pieces of debris crashing down like meteors upon the residential buildings below. You could see several Shinra helicopters flying away from the plate pillar, where the explosions seem to have originated from. Down in the streets below, the residents of Sector 7 scramble in different directions to avoid being crushed by the seemingly crumbling night sky.

“The plate’s falling!” You cried out to your remaining friends before making a break towards the stairway down to the ground floor, ensuring that the path was clear before waving your friends over. Just as you stepped off the stairs, another massive explosion rumbled violently from above you, the sheer volume of the noise popping your ears and throwing off your balance. A random civilian ran in your direction, screaming and flailing his arms, knocking you down in his haste to get away from another falling metal beam.

You’d landed on your arm wrong, but the adrenaline running through your body kept you moving as you stumbled to your feet and trailed after your friends. Behind you, another giant piece of the plate crashed into Selene’s apartment building with such force that the ground beneath your feet shook as the structure caved in on itself. You watched as people fled from their homes, as fires started and spread. You watched as people begged to be rescued, their limbs trapped under flaming metal and wood. You continued to stumble forwards even when rubble rained down upon you all like hellfire, crushing the unlucky many on the path ahead of you and blocking you off.

You wanted to cry… or maybe you were already crying. All around you, the plate continued to fall, blocking you off from any means of escape. Your ears rang from the magnitude of noises. Your arm had begun to ache from your fall. The flames consuming the houses rose in intensity, scorching your surroundings while you fought to maintain your balance. Trying, among the chaos, to find a way out of this impossible situation. But no. If you went one way or the other, you would be burned severely. Any other way would require you to pick through pieces of metal that were easily ten times your body weight.

Another explosion, this time coming from the direction of the pillar, sent you crashing to the floor from the force it left in its wake.

I hope you all made it out of here. You prayed to the Planet that your friends had gotten out of Sector 7. Looking up towards the falling sky, you could only sob as it fell too fast for your liking. Resigned, you brought out your phone, intent on calling a certain red headed Turk one more time.

“Hey, Reno. It’s me, Y/N…” you dry swallowed and held back another sob, hand raising to muffle your cries of misery. “I just wanted you to know that I’m glad that I met you. I’m really annoyed that you didn’t kiss me yesterday night, and I-” the line on your phone beeped to signal a disconnect, and you pulled the phone away to stare hopelessly at the screen.

No signal.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you bent forward, pressing your face to the cracked glass screen. A shadow swallowed your figure whole as the last of the plate fell down. “Reno…”

“I was really looking forward to our date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! 

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 8

8/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, some fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey | T (for now?) | 2.3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Scully deals with the trauma of her nightmare when she and Mulder meet BJ in the park; a migraine leads Scully to breakdown to her sister.

[this is an especially angsty part...TW for mild implication of rape]

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The rest of their breakfast passes without fanfare. After their conversation about love languages, neither feels like diving into particularly deep topics. Mulder spends their meal providing commentary on the songs other customers picked off the jukebox, turning Scully into a captive audience who occasionally nods, chuckles, or otherwise utters a phrase of approval. It’s not that they’re bored of each other, but that they feel they should preserve their energy for the taxing conversations sure to come along with the case. The electricity between them lingers in the air, waiting for a match to spark it. When the waitress asks if they want to split the bill, Mulder gallantly insists that he will take care of it, then pulls out the Bureau credit card with a wink his partner’s way. To Scully, his wink feels like a lighter flaring into flame. A brief moment of blaze, there and then gone again. One day, she swears to herself, one day she will let him ignite her heart. 

Back in the car, they buckle up and reacclimate themselves with 1994. The local country music station hums in the background, too low to make out any lyrics. It’s just a few stoplights to the park, not even long enough to get through an entire song.

They find BJ at a picnic table nestled among Aubrey’s fall colors. She notices them first, waves them over. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Mulder says as he and Scully take a seat across from the detective.

Scully is struck by reality’s intrusion on the version of BJ she met in her nightmare. BJ is not heavily pregnant; she does not even show. She’s not covered in blood either, but looking polished in a pantsuit. Yet the sight of her conjures up vivid images from the dream, ones that Scully hoped would stay hidden in her psyche forever. The resolute darkness of Duane Barry’s eyes, like his soul had been sucked out of him. The way droplets of blood splattered when he pulled BJ by the collar. And the image of her own body, how it had been desecrated and she hadn’t felt a thing. She felt nothing.

“How are you, BJ?” she asks, her voice stiffer than intended.

BJ rests her hands on the wooden table. “I’m okay.” Then-- “I’ve made some decisions.”

Scully nods, not wanting to pry. The three of them sit with the silence. Sometimes this is all you can do. Her courage gathered, BJ looks to Mulder. 

“I don’t know if Agent Scully told you, but I’m pregnant. It’s Tilman’s. It’s made things...complicated.”

“I’m sure,” Mulder replies, not particularly moved by this announcement. 

“I don’t think it will impact the case in any way, but I wanted to be open with you. Staying quiet about it was only making the situation tougher.”

“Well, thanks for sharing.”

Scully shoots Mulder a look, as if to chastise his blase attitude toward BJ’s courage. He doesn’t see it, which makes her feel oddly guilty, like she had talked about him behind his back. 

Across the park, a little girl plays with her dog. They run through a pile of leaves together, and she takes a tumble. 

“Ow!” the girl exclaims loud enough to be heard throughout the park. BJ stands up, her gaze snapping toward the sound. Scully turns, fighting the urge to join BJ. The girl’s mother bends to check the girl for injury and seeing that she’s okay, sets her on her feet. BJ exhales, joins the agents back at the table.

“The mothering instinct,” BJ monologues. “I've been feeling it a lot lately. I used to hate it when my mother hovered over me. I swore I'd never be like her.”

Scully’s throat tightens. She felt the gravitational pull too. I mean, she’s always liked kids, but she’s not sure she would be a good mother and so she’s tried not to think much about it. Certainly her situation is unfavorable for motherhood. What kind of life would it be for a kid to have their mother gone all the time? She knows what it’s like to tuck herself into bed without a goodnight kiss and a bedtime story...to feel like an afterthought in a parent’s life. It made her push herself harder, trying to shed the inadequacy her father must have seen in her. And still she fell short. Is it all in her head, this fledgling maternal instinct? Or is it a sign of changing brain chemistry?

“I think we all feel that way at some point or another,” Mulder says. For a moment, Scully thinks he’s read her mind. She’s about to ask him whether there’s such thing as a paternal instinct when BJ continues on--

“My father was a cop. A good cop. That's all I ever wanted to be. He'd say what we're doing here is nonsense. That you can't solve a crime from a dream.”

Scully is somewhat relieved to know that she’s not alone in failing to measure up to a father’s expectations. This is not the point of the conversation, but this is what her mind latches on to. Her own father felt that the X-Files was a waste of time,, and she could never put into words why the work was so fulfilling to her. It’s not medicine; the results aren’t as obvious. Yet she can’t help but feel like she and Mulder are tuning into a rarely heard frequency, listening to its message, and passing it on. Little by little that will change the world, won’t it?

“Well, I've often felt that dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask,” Mulder offers, rising to meet the gravity of the moment. Scully wonders what question her nightmare was answering. She shudders at the thought.

---------

Her skull feels like it’s being cut in half with a chainsaw, there is no other way to put it. She’s lying stretched out on her motel bed, a washcloth over her eyes, praying the pain away. Migraines aren’t a common occurrence for her, but she recalls all the times her mother would turn off the television, pull the curtains, and lay flush in her recliner in an attempt to ward off the pain. As little as she was, Scully would pull a step stool over to grab a glass from the cabinet, then fill it with water and bring it to her mother like a dog itching for a treat. She’d get a ‘thank you’ from her mom’s quiet, steady voice and sometimes a pat on the head, but nothing she could subsist on. She always wished for a little more to fill the deficit in herself. Now she understood. Pain chips away at your capacity for love.

What had started as a dull roar now felt more like the scream of a banshee. It came on suddenly around 4 while she and Mulder were reviewing the evidence of the 1942 murders. Their day had been pretty slow, one of paperwork and manila folders and bureaucracy. Not a lot of progress on the case. It’s as if her brain weren’t working hard enough, and so decided to punish her by making work impossible. She let on nothing of her plight until the way back to the motel when she leaned her head against the window and Mulder asked if she was okay. She responded nonchalantly, saying it was just a headache, and he in his savior complex offered to stop for Aspirin, but she insisted she had some in her suitcase. She did--a bottle with only two left--and she took them both. So far they’ve done nothing to combat the pain. 

It occurs to her that her ardent desire to avoid coming off as a damsel in distress doesn’t exactly mesh with Mulder’s tendency to be the hero. What is she to make of that? Nothing, not in her current state of mind.

She lies there, wonders if it’s reached a late enough hour to change into her pajamas. She can’t deal with the monotony of the shower tonight, not even if Mulder’s on the other side. She turns, glances at the digital alarm clock. 8:09pm. Certainly that’s appropriate pajama time, right? She can never be sure that Mulder won’t come knocking on her door with a new interpretation of the evidence for her to shoot down or a theory somehow more outlandish than his original. She likes that they keep each other on their toes, but tonight that’s not where she wants to be.

Her head berates her for sitting up. She figures that if that’s wishful thinking, changing clothes will be too, so she lays right back down. She has gotten very used to ending up back where she started.

Seeing as modern medicine is failing her, she decides to try meditation. Missy swears by it, but Scully doesn’t see the benefit of willingly turning off your brain. She can hear her sister now: “It’s not about turning off your brain, it’s about transcending your thoughts and being present with the world.” Since when am I not present with the world, she always wants to reply. She can’t afford not to be present with the world.

But the older sister always has some semblance of sway over the younger one, so Scully closes her eyes and listens to the nothingness of the room around her. Well, it’s not exactly nothing, but nearly so. The mini-fridge, which she doesn’t dare touch even if the bill isn’t her responsibility, hums like it has something to prove. The remaining leaves on the trees in the parking lot rustle with the wind. In the adjacent room, Mulder’s TV is on. She can hear the droning chitter-chatter of sports commentators. Baseball, probably. That’s played in the fall, right?

She slips out of active listening and into mindless musing on her lack of sports expertise. Her father was never a sports junkie himself, but her brothers were. She was often made the referee of their wrestling matches or t-ball games, having been deemed more impartial than Melissa. And yet her understanding of plays and pitches and batting averages never progressed from there. She could name all 206 bones in the body in alphabetical order, but she couldn’t tell you what 3rd down meant. Usually she doesn’t care, but at the moment, this is making her indescribably sad.

Overcome by her isolation, she grabs the phone off hook, dials her own number. Melissa picks up right before it stops ringing.

“Hello?”

“Missy…” she doesn’t know it’s going to happen until she opens her mouth and tears fling themselves down her face.

“Dana, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you safe?” Missy’s voice is concerned but controlled, like a 911 operator. 

“I-I’m okay,” Scully manages, in probably the least convincing delivery ever.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the motel. Mulder and I are safe, we’re okay,” she stammers. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Melissa says with utter calm. 

“My head is pounding, Missy, and I know mom used to get migraines, but I’ve never felt anything like this before--” Her voice catches, a sob slips out. “And I’m scared, Missy. Something’s wrong with me.”

“It sounds like you need medical attention, honey.” Melissa always knows when to slip in a term of endearment. “Can Mulder take you to the hospital?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” She squeezes her eyes shut, sees stars. She hopes Mulder can’t hear her crying. The embarrassment of hurting is almost worse than the hurt itself. She pulls the bed sheet over her head like some over-dramatic teenager. She wouldn’t be able to look Mulder in the eye if he heard this next part. 

She sniffles. “I’m six days late, and I’m never late, and I can’t be pregnant unless…” She wonders what would happen if she just stopped the sentence there and never spoke of it again. Could she do that? Would Melissa mind? 

She lets the bottom drop out from under her. “...unless they did something to me.” The words are barely audible, she hates to have them on her tongue. Worse still, she’s not even the subject in her own sentence. She’s the object, of course. 

She hears Missy take what she’s deemed “a cleansing breath.” Then--”Can you come home? Tonight, tomorrow morning?”

“I...What would I tell Mulder?” Her tears have stopped flowing, but her brokenness still lives in her voice. 

“Anything. That I locked myself out of the apartment, that it’s mom’s birthday, maybe the truth. That man will listen to whatever you say. He’s not gonna stop you.”

“Well, I have to tell the FBI something.” 

“Say you have a family emergency. Or that you’re experiencing trauma from work-related events. You don’t owe them anything, Dana.”

Scully knows this, but could never operate as if she actually believed it. The FBI is her job, her duty, her choice. How can she be up in arms about something she wished upon herself? 

She takes as deep a breath as the pain in her head will allow. “I’ll fly out tomorrow morning.”

“Call me with the deets before you take off. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay.” Scully feels a rush of safety, of being held & supported. “Thank you,” she breathes. Missy has saved her from herself.

“You’re welcome. And Dana…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna figure this out. Whatever it is, we’re gonna figure it out.”

Scully flutters her eyelids shut, feels the temptation of tears at the back of them. “I know...Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Missy echoes. “Get some rest, and try not to worry. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Scully wonders what gene her sister has that gives her such a distinct ability to say the right thing every time. She wishes she hadn't missed that boat. How much easier would life be? 

She notices that Missy has refused to hang up first. “Goodnight, Missy,” she says into the phone.

“Goodnight, Dana. Sleep well.” Her words are a balm to the soul. 

Scully puts the phone back on the hook, feeling like Missy just put hope back in her vocabulary. Hope or belief? Which is stronger?

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Jintian

Jintian has 21 X-Files stories at AO3 all posted during the original run of the show and all fics you should read if you like beautiful words and lovely character insights (and you do!). I've recced some of my favorites here before, including Argus, Diving, God's Breath, and Seven Days. Big thanks to Jintian for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Many authors from the original run still loom large in my mind, so I'm glad to hear it. The show had great production values and cinematography and iconic characters, and I think that level of quality was reflected in fanworks. Good writing is good writing no matter how old. For myself, I'm happy if anything I made still resonates with people. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Just doing the math, I first discovered XF over half my lifetime ago. I was a sheltered introverted young'un. Online fandom introduced me to a diversity of people and perspectives I couldn't have found in my "real" life at the time. I'm especially grateful for the wisdom of women who, over the years, advised or supported me or simply led by example – not only with writing, but with everything from relationships to job interviews to finances. And I love that in so many places I've lived or traveled, I've been able to meet someone local who already feels like a friend.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? The Scullyfic mailing list, ATXC, and archives were my main venues. Scullyfic was such a well-run group, with structured discussion topics, post-episode commentary, and writing challenges.

Also, an image comes to mind: for some reason my dad put our computer in the garage, where we had a fan but no air conditioning, and we lived in the US southeast which feels like the armpit of hell in the summertime. I'd sit in that sweltering muggy heat for hours getting my fandom fix. And the only way to connect to the internet was via landline, which I couldn't tie up during the day, so that meant a lot of late nights as well. My fandom equivalent of trudging miles uphill in the snow?

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? With regard to fanfic, I learned how to receive and give constructive criticism, before and after posting. Even if it was "just" fanfic, most everyone wanted to improve their writing. I think that was a good mindset for me to cultivate, personally and professionally.

With regard to fandom, I learned how to be an active and analytical consumer, and that there can be many (many!) interpretations of a text. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The fanfic, actually. Somehow in my internet wanderings, I stumbled across Gossamer. Dawson Rambo's casefiles were also early finds. Curiosity about the characters drove me to check out the show.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

As far as writing my own, I had an image in my head which I jotted down, and over several months I kept adding to it – mostly navel-gazing, not much plot. The resulting story was a hodgepodge of different POVs and different tenses. *facepalm* But I received some lovely feedback, and I felt very welcomed. For me the XF community, with everyone's creativity and dedication, was just as inspiring and motivating for fanfic as the show.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I think of it like school. I learned a lot, I graduated, and now it's primarily occupied by a new generation. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

If XF was like university, then afterward was like graduate school. Sophiahelix and I started a multi-fandom mailing list called Glass Onion and met lots of folks. Livejournal/Dreamwidth became big public platforms which enabled tons of cross-fandom links, recs, and discussions – and sometimes clashes. Although it wasn't as intensely formative for me as XF, I realized that fandom in general has had an undeniable impact on my life. [Lilydale note: That’s a link to a wonderful little essay Jintian wrote about fandom.]

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why? I love the sneak attackers, the ones who seem unassuming or perhaps disadvantaged, but they're actually out here killing the game. Dana Scully was a small-statured person who had to move the driver's seat to reach the pedals – like me – but she was an FBI agent, medical doctor, and forensic pathologist – unlike me, but goals. Other similar faves are Toph Beifong (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Mat Cauthon (Wheel of Time), and Jang Geurae (Misaeng). Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Several years ago I had the notion to introduce my husband to the show, and it was totally enjoyable and could stand up with shows airing today. (Husband queried: "What is the deal with Mulder? He should have been fired 19 times already." We were in Season 2.)

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

No XF lately, but I'll check AO3 whenever I encounter a shiny new ship. Reading fic is my only fannish activity these days, so I stay happy and conflict-free.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? It's been ages, but today I'm thinking of torch, Jane St Clair, Jordan, RivkaT, MustangSally, Khyber, nevdull, Justin Glasser, Vehemently, Nascent... On any other day it could be a whole different list. The fandom was so rich and deep in writers. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

My XF stuff was kind of all over the place. I experimented a lot, with mixed results. I guess I'm glad about some of the subject matter I tackled, like Scully's trauma and post-abduction state of mind (and body) in Loss of Yesterday, and the thematically similar Longer Gone, which explored Samantha.

What's the story behind your pen name? Jintian means "today" in Mandarin Chinese. I was feeling existential. 🤷‍♀️

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I've only ever told an ex and my husband. They were allowed to read one story – which I chose. They thought it was cool, I guess. I can't remember clearly because I had my fingers stuck in my ears going "lalalala!"

However, I can always count on my husband to say something savagely funny about fandom mess, so I just try to curate his exposure. For instance, he could recap the Msscribe saga but couldn't tell you any of my usernames. He's also met a number of my fannish friends so he knows how we get, hah.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

AO3 Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

As I'm writing this, the world is grappling with COVID-19. I'm wishing everyone safety and health, both physical and mental. If fandom provides a positive escape, embrace and enjoy it!

(Posted by Lilydale on October 6, 2020)