#there's probably a couple other anachronisms in this fic

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Sorry if the previous chapters seemed unformatted. I literally copy-pasted everything from my FF.net to here.

Masterlist

Chapter 5

"Does it get any more cozy than Hogsmeade?" Norah muttered to herself when she stepped inside the archway that marked the entrance of the village. Ernie Lark was once again conducting the enchanted musical instruments in front of one other shop, already getting a whiff of the sweet smells of pastries and treats emanated from its windows all the way from Honeydukes. There were more people than usual, perhaps lining up near Sprintwitches for broom upgrades after its shopkeeper Albie Weekes promoted posters for it. Dropping a few coins into the hat, she walked ahead, stopping by Steepley & Sons to see if she could probably stop for tea.

She wouldn't dare to go inside Madam Puddifoot's tea shop just yet, knowing that the place was full of couples on dates. The sickly sweet pink decor definitely provided a sappy couple setting for its patrons. Maybe one day, she'll go there on a date. Just maybe. Perhaps with the one she felt strongly for.

Norah turned her thoughts back to one big reason why she was in Hogsmeade during her free period. She was planning to see if of ' Potions needed any deliveries made. It was a way for her to follow on the lead Sebastian gave her the other evening, all the while making a few galleons along the way.

As she walked on, she said hello to several others who noticed her. That included Betty Bugbrooke, whose unicorn Hazel she was now taking care of. Norah informed her that Hazel has been thriving inside the vivarium with the other beasts, even handing her a sample of unicorn hair she got from brushing her.

"Oh, thank you, I miss Hazel every day, but I'm happy to know that she's doing so well, that stubborn girl," Betty smiled, holding the vial close. "You're very kind for remembering me for this."

Norah smiled. "It's no trouble at all. You found Hazel first, I thought you'd want to know how she's doing now."

Norah bid her goodbye and continued walking on, noticing Garreth Weasley about to go inside Honeydukes when he saw her as well. He approached her, his expression somewhat softening. "Hello Norah," He said.

"Hi Garreth. Still looking for billywig stings?" She teased.

A pink tinge appeared on his cheeks. "Just a few more and my brew will be done...again," He muttered. "It'll be done in time for the party next weekend. I hope you'll come."

"You do realize you're entering through the front and not the back, right?"

Garreth grinned. "I've managed to make a deal anyways. A few of those stings in exchange for a few errands at the back. He's surprisingly supportive once I told him what I planned on doing. Think Sirona might give my brew a go?"

"It's worth a try, you'll never know," Norah nodded.

"Thanks. I'll do just that. What brings you here?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, well, just looking around. I might help out again since he asked me to do a delivery for him last time," She shrugged. She wasn't sure how he'd react if she told him she was following a lead to Keenbridge. She needed a reason to go there after all.

Her reply seemed to convince the red-headed male. "Alright then. I'll see you back at the castle, yeah?" He said. "Oh, uh, would you be doing anything when you get back?"

"I...don't know, I'm wondering that myself," Norah said. "You need help with Transfiguration?" She teased.

A slight tinge of pink appeared on Garreth's cheeks. "Perhaps. You know my aunt. She's doubling down on me lately because I passed her subject."

Norah chuckled. "Well, if you think I can help you, just let me know, hmm?"

"I will, I will. I'll hold you to that, sure," He said.

Norah bid goodbye and turned to leave, stopping by the vendor selling copies of the Daily Prophet. Harlow was still last spotted in Keenbridge, the photo only showing the terrified witnesses. She quickened her steps further into the village, stopping when she arrived at the potions shop. As she had expected, the proprietor himself was hunched over the cauldrons at the back, all of which were brewing several different colors of potions.

"Oh hello, good to see you again. What'll it be?" He asked. "I've just finished a batch of pepperup potions if you need to cure a cold. Memory potions too if you want to retain whatever you'll learn in class."

"Actually, I've come to ask if you'd need any deliveries done. I was on my way to-" Norah didn't want to reveal where she planned to go just yet. If she did, he might have sensed that she was going to face off against Harlow again and word would get out. "Feldcroft to check in on someone."

"Well, that would be nice. I've got two bottles of cough potion to bring to a family in Aranshire and if you can, I've got three vials of the dreamless sleep potion for a lady in Brocburrow," He took out the vials and handed them over to her. "The delivery fee will all be yours if you do. I still have to keep an eye on these other potions I'm brewing."

"Got it. I'll deliver all of these today," Norah agreed, keeping the bottles into her small satchel.

Norah made a mental note to write to Anne before leaving Hogsmeade, just to let her know that if she was asked, she was coming to visit her. She went down the same route again, thinking that to fly would be better than to simply apparate straight to the hamlet. She had all day anyway. She also hoped Anne wouldn't tell Sebastian what she planned to do just yet.

She missed the feeling of flying long distances. As much as she appreciated the speed that floo flames took her, there was still something calming about taking the scenic route to wherever she planned to go. Yes, even if it meant dealing with goblin loyalists or poachers or even evil beasts along the way. Perhaps there were still hidden ancient magic spots for her to tap into.

As Norah took to the air, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to savor the moment before leaning forward in her flight towards Aranshire. Hopefully the owl would come to Anne in time before Sebastian or anyone else asked.

It wasn't long before she arrived in Aranshire, being greeted by its residents, including Crispin Dunne, who often had business in the hamlet.

"The absconder assassin! How are you?" Edgar Adley greeted her the moment she was spotted. "What brings you here to our hamlet?"

Norah smiled and took out the bottles of cough potion. "Just here on an errand for . Two cough potions bound for Aranshire," She immediately spotted the woman who needed it, having been waving at her when she was informed that the potions would be arriving soon. She immediately thanked the woman who handed her a few hundred coins.

"I hope you're doing well, protecting yourself too," Edgar pointed out after noticing the exchange. "With Harlow on the loose and all."

"Don't worry, Mr. Adley, I'll be fine. I'm not afraid at all," Norah shook her head. She knew it. If Harlow wanted her, all he needed to do was come to her.

"You know, for someone as young as you, to have to do that already, I wouldn't be surprised if you became an auror now. I'll hold you to that," Edgar pointed out as she placed her broom into her satchel. "In fact, I'll bet you a butterbeer you become an auror when you leave Hogwarts."

"You have a deal," Norah smiled. "Best be on my way, it was nice seeing you and Mr. Dunne again," She said.

The sound of a whip cracking later and she apparated into Brocburrow.

-

Sebastian, after having managed to go through his detention period that day, rushed back to his friend in the common room. Once again, Ominis had taken it upon himself to trick the first-years into waiting for mermaids. "Alright, alright, that's enough you all, go and have fun elsewhere," Sebastian shooed away the hopeful looking students from the window. "You really need new hobbies other than get their hopes up."

"At least what I'm doing doesn't get me in detention often," Ominis pointed out. "But I don't know whether you sound either excited or worried."

"Both," Sebastian said, holding up a piece of parchment. "Anne said Norah was coming to see her."

"And? Isn't that nice?" Ominis said. "Although it does seem unlike her to suddenly want to visit Anne. She only goes if we're going-"

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then we'll need to head to Keenbridge before she gets herself into any trouble," Sebastian said, and the two of them rushed into their rooms to change into more casual wear.

It was in a situation like this that Sebastian and Ominis learned (again) how stubborn she could get. And they had once or twice expressed their annoyance at how she always felt like she had to go at something like this alone. Of course they understood her reasons, but if their adventure into the Scriptorium and the catacombs meant anything, it was that they worked better all together. Even with Natty, Poppy, and Amit.

Even Anne understood this side of Norah from the time they spent together, and privately expressed her worries to them. It took spending more time with her for Anne to even start to forgive Sebastian.

The two boys fled the common room, with Ominis quickly letting his wand guide him to where Sebastian was going. "Where are we going exactly?" The blonde asked, trying to keep up with him.

"Keenbridge. I suspect Norah's in Brocburrow now," Sebastian held up the letter again, having never let it go while they made their way to the central hall. "Anne said she was doing potion deliveries for on her way. At least she told Anne she was on her way."

Ominis cursed under his breath as they walked past several girls who immediately giggled upon seeing them. "I told her last year, there is such a thing as trying too hard."

"Yeah, and look what happened, she's the hero of Hogwarts," Sebastian said, once they were finally in the grounds. He too, didn't take notice of how several groups of girls were eyeing him as well as Ominis.

"Hey, what's gotten you two in a rush?" They bumped into Imelda, proudly clad in their house quidditch uniform. Naturally, Imelda served as the new team captain of their house team. "If you're looking for Norah, we spotted her going into Hogsmeade."

"Yes, we know," Ominis replied as the two of them approached the floo flame.

"If you see her, tell her we'll still need a chaser," Imelda reminded them. "She's got a spot on the team."

"Keenbridge," Sebastian muttered, and one by one, the two of them disappeared.

They soon appeared at the entrance of the hamlet, next to the floo flame, the two of them looking around for a sign of Norah. "Merlin, this girl's going to be the death of me," Ominis muttered, his wand guiding him and following Sebastian, who was trying to spot signs of the girl.

"Merlin, she's going to drive me mad," Sebastian frowned as they approached the nearest merchant, Fatimah Lawang. "She's going to drive us mad."

Even with the concern, Sebastian was trying not to be so excited about this pursuit, his heart racing with excitement at what they were going to do. But it wasn't the only reason why he got so excited.

He first came to terms with his feelings a little after the House Cup in fifth year. Sebastian Sallow long accepted the fact that what he felt about Norah had crossed beyond friendship and into romantic territory. But after everything they've been through, from accidentally killing Solomon, to going through the catacombs and fighting trolls, how could he not care for her so intensely?

As much as Sebastian wanted to tell Norah how he felt about her, he knew their friendship was much too valuable to cross the line. Even when he felt the green-eyed beast of jealousy whenever other guys would go near her, he always tried to remind himself that she was his friend. Even if he told her how he felt, Sebastian knew that there was always a chance that she would only see him as a friend too.

What Sebastian didn't know was, Ominis had also fancied Norah. She was the reason why he often slipped away in the common rooms and wrote to Anne. He wanted her advice on how to approach her. Ominis was aware of his and his family's reputation. Anne, as he read, was incredibly supportive. Not wanting to tell Sebastian, he confided in Anne about his growing feelings. Anne, however, would continuously tell him to pluck up the courage to do so, or at the very least, attempt to ask her to the Yule Ball.

Ominis knew the risks if he were to confess his affection for her. Knowing full well the reputation his family held in the entire wizarding community, Norah would be incredibly out of his league. It would be even worse if his family found out. They would absolutely despise her even more than they already do. It already didn't help that there were some people in Hogwarts who thought she deserved to be with someone just as accomplished, or at the very least, not from a wizarding family known for the dark arts.

It was a pedestal Ominis thought was too high for him to reach.

"Hello, I was wondering if you have seen Norah? She's got brown hair down to her shoulders, possibly coming here on a broomstick?" Sebastian asked. "Or maybe on a hippogriff? Or even, possibly...a graphorn?"

Fatimah looked at the brunette boy incredulously. "No graphorns and hippogriffs have come here. And no, I haven't seen Norah come here. How is she, by the way?"

"She's doing very well. Drowning in our NEWT exams like the rest of us," Ominis spoke.

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if she becomes an auror. Or a curse-breaker even," She said. "Well, I've got potion ingredients for you if you are in need of any."

The blonde seemed to catch Sebastian off-guard when he asked Fatimah about the headlines on the news. "I don't suppose you have heard about Harlow? He was last seen here, according to the Daily Prophet."

Fatimah leaned toward them, keeping her voice low. "Oh yes, he was last seen here not too long ago. It was a dreadful sight. He looked all...ghastly, but he's still as dangerous as ever. I was about to clear up the stand for the day when there were explosions everywhere. He's managed to gather a few more ashwinders, fugitives now, to his cause. Even pilfered some barrels of drink and nearly cursed the barkeep."

"So you think there'll be more of them?" Sebastian asked this time.

"I wouldn't be surprised. They're still so desperate for their cause, those fiends. Even after Victor Rookwood's death, he plans to take power," Fatimah frowned. "The beasts are in danger once again."

"I take it he's able to cast wandless magic," Ominis said.

"Which makes him just as dangerous as ever," Fatimah said with a sigh. "If you two know what's best for you, you'll be sure to keep away from places where those poachers and ashwinders are near. I'd advise that we leave this to the authorities, but if Norah had to intervene, they wouldn't be doing any good, would they?"

Just then, they saw Norah dismount from her broomstick and tuck it away in her satchel. She stopped in her tracks upon seeing the two boys. "Oi!" She called out to them, brow raised, making them turn around.

Sebastian crossed his arms while Ominis tilted to face her. "That's not very ladylike, isn't it?" He teased, and Norah slapped his arm. "What brings you to Keenbridge?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Norah pointed out. "I was on my way to visit Anne. I just needed her opinion on something rather personal. Hello, Ms. Lawang," She greeted the potioneer behind them.

"Hello Norah, these two asked for you earlier, wondering if you came here on a hippogriff or graphorn," Fatimah chuckled.

Norah smiled. "Ah, well, Highwing and his Lordship are currently resting from playing with other beasts in my vivariums," She said, with Fatimah's eyes widening at her explanation. "They love playing with others, especially the diricrawl offsprings. Fwoopers love playing with Highwing."

Fatimah looked impressed. Sebastian couldn't help but look proud, and a slight smirk played across Ominis' features. "Back to the question, why'd you stop here if you were going to visit Anne?"

"Can't I stop here?" Norah asked. "What are you two doing here anyway? I thought you were in detention and Ominis...was just there," She said.

"Norah, we know why you're here," Ominis said bluntly. "And Harlow's not here anymore."

Norah's shoulders dropped. She turned back to the potioneer. "Ms. Lawang, would you have an idea of where he might have gone?"

"I'm afraid I don't. I barely managed to leave the hamlet with everything intact at the time."

She sighed and thanked the woman, opening her satchel once again to take out her broomstick as she turned to looked over across the river, where Keenbridge tower was located. It gave her an idea. But before she could take out her broomstick, Sebastian caught her wrist.

"I suppose you two were also looking for Harlow," Norah glanced at him and at Ominis.

"We just had a feeling we knew where to find you. You really ought to let us help you this time, you know," Sebastian replied.

Norah stared at them. "I would let you help if I was sure none of you would get hurt."

The naturally stoic expression Ominis had began to soften. Sebastian's expression also softened. Norah raised a brow at them, anticipating what they would say next. But both of them knew to make some assurance.

"I would help knowing that you wouldn't get hurt," Ominis spoke, taking a step forward. "You can't just throw yourself into this without knowing that there are people who will help you. You once told me when we looked for the Scriptorium that I had the same thoughts as my aunt Noctua, and that when she never made it there alone, we could do it together and we did."

It was Sebastian's turn to speak. "You've helped everyone around you, no matter how silly it might have been. At least let us return the favor. I'm pretty sure Fig would've wanted you to do that."

The thing was, Fig never got to tell her anything else. Norah put her broom back into her satchel. "If I let you help me in this, you will see why I want to keep all of you out of it and safe," She said, her voice low, making her way toward the bridge to cross it. Ominis and Sebastian followed her closely, agreeing amongst themselves that they needed to be prepared.

They approached the ruins of the abandoned Keenbridge tower. Norah cast revelio a few times, as if trying to check for anything suspicious until she found a set of footprints. Multiple sets of footprints. One particular set seemed to stagger. "Harlow," Sebastian muttered upon seeing it. "He went in here," He pointed to the broken down entrance. "But it's quiet."

"Too quiet," Ominis added, taking a step closer toward the ruins as if to let his wand pick up any presence. "I don't think there's anyone in there. I can't hear anything else at least."

"Alright, but we should still check to make sure it's clear," Norah said. She had some idea of how Harlow, Rookwood, and their empire moved. Perhaps it wasn't so different this time. She led the way, wand at the ready. She was trying to assure herself not to worry about Sebastian and Ominis tagging along. Norah knew they could handle themselves, with Sebastian being an especially skilled duellist. Still, they were her friends and she cared about them, the last thing she wanted was to see any of them get hurt.

Norah, Sebastian, and Ominis climbed up the porch, seeing the doors somewhat broken down. If it wasn't because of her having busted it open, it was likely because of something else. They heard a little rumble, as if of feet. They moved a little closer, Norah's arms a little outstretched, as if posed to shield the two boys behind her. "Protego" Sebastian whispered, his wand-bearing arm out from over her shoulder, shielding all three of them instead.

"If it isn't the hero of Hogwarts herself."

From the shadows behind the broken down four-poster bed emerged the man himself. Theophilus Harlow unsurprisingly, looked the way they suspected he would. His tall, stocky frame was replaced by an almost frail looking stature. He looked gaunt, as if a lot of years had been taken out of him, yet now, it seemed like he was gathering strength.

"Harlow," She said.

"Seems like you brought friends with you," A grin slowly appeared on his face. "I knew we'd meet again sooner or later," He coughed. "Didn't think it'd be a lot sooner."

"You managed to escape those dementors, you must be desperate," Norah tilted her head, her tone almost mocking. "Face it. Your business empire is no more. Horntail hall's dissolved. The authorities are all on the lookout for you."

Harlow forced a cackle that mostly came out as a cough. "That's what you think. Much like how I expected you to come here. You're just itching to play the hero again, aren't you?"

Ominis swallowed hard. "We're surrounded aren't we?" He said.

Soon enough, they heard loud cackles coming in from all directions as several masked poachers and ashwinders apparated. "I'm going to enjoy this," They heard one of the female ashwinders, a duellist in their bright red coat and top hat, say.

Norah leaned back. "When I say 'go,' we go, okay?" She whispered.

"Okay," Sebastian muttered.

Once the shields were down, Norah struck a few with several rounds of banishing charms. Ominis was able to hold his own, levitating several while Sebastian sliced through them. Norah had a knack for the depulso charm, something both boys seemed to notice. It was only since discovering Herodiana Byrne's depulso training rooms that she gained an appreciation for the spell.

Norah was quick to shield Ominis from another crimson-clad duellist, suddenly retaliating with the spell they had tried to use all too often on her for the very first time. "Expulso!" She yelled, sending blue jets of light in the duellist's direction and then towards the taller, broader man, who was preparing to electrocute the three of them.

She banished them again, followed with a successful attempt at casting bombarda non-verbally, defeating the last of the Ashwinders that tried to corner them. Ominis let out a loud sigh of relief. "For a moment, I thought we wouldn't make it out of here alive," He said.

Norah sighed as well as she and Sebastian looked around. "Bloody hell, Harlow's disapparated," He said.

"We're back to square one, he's certain to come back for us," Norah frowned.

"We can fight him again another day," Ominis advised. "We can either go to Feldcroft or go back to the castle. I'm sure Anne will understand."

"Understand? She'll have it in for me if she finds out what we just tried to do," Sebastian groaned. "Merlin, she'll kill me."

"We should go back to the castle," Norah agreed. "I just remembered Garreth might need my help with Transfiguration."

The mention of the Gryffindor's name made Sebastian and Ominis turn to her, both of whom looked incredulous. "Weasley? You're meeting with Weasley?" Sebastian questioned as they walked out of the castle, the three of them nearly falling over in surprise when the wooden beams inside crashed behind them.

"Yeah, I ran into him when I went into Hogsmeade. Butterbeers? My treat," Norah offered, pointing to the pub by the entrance of the hamlet, non-verbally blasting the spider eggs nearby.

Merlin, she really was going to drive them crazy. But the two boys didn't mind one bit.

[oodlyenough]

fic 20 questions

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? 127...! I have had the account since 2009, lol.

2. what's your total Ao3 word count? 707,519

3. what fandoms do you write for? Generally I only write for one at a time, which is currently Ace Attorney. Not counting the odd one-offs for ask memes over the years, the other big ones were Arcane, Borderlands, Doctor Who and the wizard books.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Commutative Law (Arcane)

Window of Opportunity (Arcane)

Where the Air is Rarefied (HP)

Prestidigitation (Arcane)

Contingency Planning (Arcane)

Lmao, 4 of 5 written in 2022. You can see the power of writing m/m in a popular new fandom VS my entire other library at the time. Admittedly at some point I made a concerted effort to try and knock HP down from top spot, which was successful. For now. Jayvik fandom has quieted down a lot.

5. do you respond to comments? Yes. Sometimes it takes a while because if it's a particularly thoughtful comment I try to give a particularly thoughtful reply, and it can take time to gather my thoughts.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I'm going to discount oneshots because the tone in one-shots tends to be more consistent throughout the piece rather than being about the "ending" yknow.

So probably King and Country, a Doctor Who fic cowritten with @go-ldy way back when. Technically a happy ending if you factor in immense amounts of off-screen couples therapy lmao. But we had originally written something much simpler and happier, and it didn't fit the story at all, so we went back and wrote something heavier for the closing chapter, which is why it sticks in my mind.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think probably Anachronism, the 95k Borderlands epic. I had always had a rough image of the four main characters happy together by the end, and it was also my swansong in Borderlands fandom, so I wanted it to be an optimistic, happy ending (especially in contrast to whatever the hell is going on in the canon there now lmfaoooo). Plus the rest of the fic was quite angsty, and the ending was hopeful and happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not in recent memory. Once upon a time I got a couple disgruntled comments in Doctor Who fandom, and perhaps funniest of all found people complaining about my fic on LJ in French, unaware I read French.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope I'm a big baby who gets too embarrassed. I've written some pretty soft-focus M rated stuff but nothing I think could rightly be called smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I wrote a short joke crossover between Doctor Who and Inspector Spacetime, the Doctor Who parody from Community. I don't think that one made the leap from Teaspoon to AO3 actually.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a number of times. It's very flattering. Mostly Borderlands fics and mostly into Russian iirc, but there's been a few over the years. Sometimes people ask, and I say "sure, drop me a link!" and I never hear back, so I'm not sure if they forgot to link or just never finished translating to begin with.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? My longest and best DW fics with @go-ldy way back when! Not so much since.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I'm gonna be real it always just feels like whatever I'm into at the moment. And, actually, not necessarily something I write fic for -- like Pricefield is an all-timer for me, easy, but I have never written fic and I haven't read all that much either. If I were narrowing to tree, one of "each" lol, probably Doctor/Rose, Pricefield and Narumitsu.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Don't have any. I know I will never finish them (RIP Fixer-Upper and Silly Love Songs) as I've lost interest in those fandoms.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'd like to think I am good at packing emotional and/or character beats into a concise scene or story. Adding missing scenes or elaborating on canon scenes to give some additional depth or meaning without really deviating from the source.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Definitely plot. I will get stumped on the technicalities of things for ages -- I might know an emotional scene I'd like to write, but hell if I know how to get them there. It's why I primarily write one-shots. Also I struggle with any kind of scenery or set description.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I avoid it as much as I can. (Which so far has been entirely, lol.) I don't speak any other languages well enough to write dialogue in them and feel awkward relying on Google translate or hitting up random friends to do that work for me. I am more likely to use the "said something in [language]" approach.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I actually can't be sure but I think it was 101 Dalmatians. The animated one. When I was like, 7.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I'm gonna cheat and do one per fandom:

Anachronism (Borderlands) -> biggest, most complicated, plotty fic I have ever written, with four main characters and every combination of relationship between them as the focus. Took 3 damn years. Very proud of it.

Unravel (Ace Attorney) -> total recency bias here but I'm very happy with it and it scratched a very particular itch for me, fleshing out a relationship and characters that exist mostly in the fringes of canon, something I used to do lots of but haven't in recent years

Contingency Planning (Arcane) -> an emotional sucker punch fic in my humble opinion, happiest with it

Out of the Howling (Doctor Who, with @go-ldy) -> actually I had a hard time picking a DW fic. But this was our last together and most complex, so it wins. Also the Master is fun as hell to write.

I am supposed to tag people! I am not sure who else has already been tagged. Do it or don't, I'm not your boss, happy new year 🎊 @annalyticall @heavybreathingcatt @sandboxer @mutxnts @tinsnip @tlonista @themirokai

[nanuk-the-bat]

Tagged by the phenomenal @phenanthreneblue (I wasn’t gonna do it, cause I’ve only been at this for like a couple years, but why not :p ) thanks for the tag.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Technically 24, but only 17 are fics. The others are art/podfics as I jump around with my hobbies.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

198,671. Actual story words are probably about 198,000. Not terrible?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Control. I wanted more Darling fics. So I got off my ass and learned how to write them myself. I do have a draft thing for Alan Wake but it’s little and will probably stay stashed away in my notes files for the rest of eternity.

4. Top five fics by kudos

I’m just astounded that people found my stories amusing enough to leave kudos in the first place. The most popular one is Anachronisms Welcome

5. Do you respond to comments?

Of course. Might not be eloquent, but I’ll respond in kind.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’m more of a fluff and smut gal at heart…but anything I’ve written for Trench x Darling tends to lean that way.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I wouldn’t say my fics have happy endings, in the sense that the protagonists ride off into the sun set just that they have mundane or hopeful resolutions. For A Cup Full of Resonance I was originally going to have Darling sacrifice himself for Dylan to return and leave it ambiguous whether or not he survived corporeally. Like a coffee cup appears on Jesse’s desk after they save Dylan, just how Jesse likes it, as a sign that Darling is still watching over her, but I ended it on a happier note instead.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. Thankfully people haven’t given me shit for my silly ideas.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. But only when I’m in a specific headspace.

10. Craziest crossover?

Haven’t ventured there really. I included Scratch in one chapter of Anachronisms Welcome, but beyond that, no. Would love to do a Fallout or BG3 crossover with Control. But I don’t have the brainpower for it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No one would want to steal my stuff XD

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I like doing podfics sometimes.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Anachronisms Welcome turned into a collaboration when the shower scene happened and horny head voice Jesse was born. (because I can set up humor, but executing is not my specialty…I always want to explain the joke 🙄) My partner/familar/sometimes editor threw a dumb idea out there, we played with it, and head voice Jesse became his distinct recurring character. We refer to her as an extra planar being/ personality who manifests as Jesse’s id. Those internal monologues, the dialogue sections Jesse has with herself, those are cowritten with my familiar voicing that Jesse.

14. All time favourite ship?

Jesse x Darling. I know it’s not canon. And won’t ever be canon. But something about them appeals to my creativity and when I see stuff for them little confetti/ dopamine canons fire in my brain.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I feel like this applies to all my wip’s…I can only write when the stars align.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not pacing or plot haha, but sometimes I can come up with decent metaphors and descriptions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

All of it…I’m still a fledgling fic writer and it’s learn as I go. I really struggle with plot, which contributes to the shit pacing. With thinking in terms of tension and seeing a story as a whole and not a jumble of stuff I feel like writing about. If I ever write another long fic, I’ll plot it out with all the story beats, and the motifs, and actually have a solid plot line or two running through.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I’m personally not a huge fan of having to scroll to the bottom to look up translations but if it’s done sparingly or as in canon I don’t mind. Depends I guess.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Control.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

In Contribution of Entropy it’s shameless fluff ridden smut, but for my craving at the time it was the equivalent of getting a free triple scoop of bubblegum ice cream mixed with cotton candy topped with rainbow sprinkles on a 102F summer day…and the last chapter is some of my best imagery.

Tagging: @blessedpictures @annachibi @laudanine and @wondrouswendy

[aelaer]

This is kinda random but do you happen to know about stories in which Stephen loses his magic? I'm craving reading about my poor man suffering

Uhhhhhhhh. Good question. There's not really much that comes to top of mind.

Stephen can't use a ton of magic in Balancing the Books by anachronism so that might scratch your itch. He gets the same limitation of "you use your magic you'll kill yourself" in a part of Signature Move by perryvic, which is always the fic I recommend for Stephen suffering -- ultimate angst with a happy ending fic. Honestly required reading for any Stephen fan IMO.

I block his magic off in a couple of my whumpy fics but if you're here, you've probably read them, haha. There's a couple other stories of blocked magic in that vein in the Hurt Stephen Strange tag, and you'll find them in my Bookmarked fic list on AO3.

One I did see last month that fits this bill is Glimpse of Us by Gay Spider Kay (Wolfyzheart) which says so in the summary, but it's a WIP with only 2 chapters so I don't know if this is an "author's actively working on it" or "it was an idea and we'll never see it updated" type of scenario. I am reluctant to rec WIPs unless I know the author outside of AO3, or the author has a good track record of finishing WIPs/a steady update regimen. But if you don't mind WIPs, that one fits your request completely. We'll see where it goes; maybe a kind, encouraging review if you end up liking it will encourage the author to continue.

[yourfaveisyanderematic]

LUVYU SNPAI

For anon who wanted “I don’t care who they are, I never want to see you talking to them again!” with Jotaro.  A slightly different take on what happened when he first got Star Platinum, and why he locked himself in jail.

WARNING:  Implied neck trauma.

“Are you ready?!”

The computerized announcer’s voice was loud enough to turn heads, even in the excitingly deafening din of the arcade, but you just sighed and sat back to watch.  Hana hopped from foot to foot as Yamamoto straightened out his uniform, the two classmates preparing for yet another round on Dare To Dance EX’s stage…

“They’re going for it again, huh?  That’s determination; didn’t Yamamoto almost break his neck on this song last time?” Nakayama—another one of the carousel of faces in your after-school clique—passed you an ice-cold soda from the vending machine as the music started in earnest.  You couldn’t keep your lips from curling in a self-assured smile, an expression she mirrored as she took the seat next to you.  It was your up-to-something-grin, so a fun story was surely around the corner; you always seemed to have one of those.

“Hana and I have a bet,” you admitted, popping the cap of your drink for a sip, “she’s convinced I’m hiding some secret crush—I bet she just wants to make sure Matsuda still has a chance—and won’t quit bugging me about it.  So, I promised to tell her everything she wanted to know…if she can beat the record on MAXX Ultra.”

Nakayama tittered as she playfully elbowed you, nearly making you spill your drink.  “That’s so mean of you!”  She pointed in mock accusation, giving you a close-up of her chipped neon nail polish.  “You’re too competitive to let her beat you on the easy levels.  You’re really going to ask her to beat your score on the hardest?”

The song ended, eliciting a chorus of disappointed groans from your friends as the scoreboard popped up.  Third place changed the most frequently; right now it was held by someone going by MRBST.  Second place had also changed recently, to a TNKAK.

And of course, first place, the score no mere high schooler would beat, the letters that had been in place for months…

SNPAI.  You’d entered it as a joke; for a while, the #1 in the arcade had been entering LUVYU in all the machines they could, and it was going to be your way of admitting a crush at the time.  Surpassing them had ruined the joke, though, and since you were the oldest of your friends they’d naturally assumed the name was referring to you.

“We got close that time!” Yamamoto grumbled, patting his pockets for more change, “I’m sure we can get it—hey, you brought enough coins to do this, right…?”  He glanced at you.  You sighed, already reaching for your purse.

“They’re going to make me bankroll my own defeat?  Who’s the mean one, again?” you muttered to Nakayama, who giggled again; this time definitely at you, not with you.  

“He wasn’t…oh, never mind.”  She waved a little as Hana laughed and Yamamoto suddenly found new, very interesting depths in his pockets to search.

You felt heat creep up your neck.  “…ah.”  The song started up again as the two got back into position, both very determinedly keeping their backs to you.  You stood up, quickly enough to make Nakayama do a double take.

“Oh?  Do you want me to get something else for you, Senpai?”

“No, I just feel like walking for a bit.  I’m going to go buy some snacks.”

“Then I’ll go with you!” she jumped up, trailing behind you like a brightly colored comet as you crossed the tacky carpet and various games to the snack counter.  You were just in line to order when she said something that gave you pause.

“Huh.  What’s he doing here?”

“Who?”  You whipped your head around and immediately regretted it.  “Ugh.”

The arcade was full of people, bright lights and loud noises, which made it your ideal stomping ground once classes were done.  It was also someplace that Jotaro Kujo—some punk who happened to be in the year above you, not that he acted like it—shouldn’t have been caught dead.

And yet, there he was: tall, brooding, and stubbornly still wearing his uniform, stock-still in the ever-changing crowd he’d once said wasn’t really his scene.

…what he’d actually said, that afternoon you’d tried to invite him with your friends, was: “What a hassle.  Arcades are annoying as fuck, I can’t believe you actually spend all your free time there.”

You couldn’t decide what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, what sent that spike of irritation through your good mood or why you practically glared at the little of his face you could see.  People had different tastes, and some were ruder about it than others; you weren’t someone who could honestly claim to be unfailingly polite.  Your little circle ran the spectrum of honor students to borderline delinquents, so it wasn’t like he wouldn’t fit in.  You couldn’t even say he was particularly boring, or hard to look at.  

It was just…

Nakayama nudged something into your hand, bringing you back into the present moment.  It was the candy you were going to order.

“Oh, hell.  You should have said something sooner, let me pay…” you fumbled for your wallet as the two of you started to push back towards the others.  She just smirked, glancing back at the direction you were staring; Jotaro was tall enough that he was visible even from here, still conspicuously not doing anything in a place where everyone was doing something.

“You seemed preoccupied, what can I say?  But…” she leaned in conspiratorially.

“is it Kujo you’ve got a crush on?  Because I didn’t take you for the type to be into bad boys…”

“Oh my god, isn’t it bad enough I have to take this from Hana?”

She threw her head back and laughed, then immediately cursed as she spilled some of her snacks.  “come on, you know I had to!  But really…it’s gonna be weird if he is, and you start bringing him around.  He got in a fight with Miiki the other day, that’s why he wasn’t at school.”

You frowned at her as the music from DTDEX got louder and louder.  It was a different song than when you left, so Hana must have given up for the day.  “Miiki told me he’d fallen off his bike.”

Nakayama shrugged.  “He knows you hate fighting, he probably didn’t want to piss you off.  Who knows what boys are thinking?”

——

There was another reason you loved the arcade so much, and it was because silence gave you the creeps.  There was a thrill, an energy you got when there were a lot of people around, especially when they were paying attention to you.  You’d gotten so used to it that its absence had made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder periodically as your footsteps echoed in the empty halls of your school.

If there were still students or faculty around, you didn’t run into any of them, which was just as well.  You were never really good at hiding your feelings, and the expression reflected in the windows you passed would only invite questions you didn’t feel like answering.

You slammed the door open to the stairwell and stepped inside, frowning as you caught some cigarette smoke wafting from the fire exit.  You checked your watch—it was a little after 3PM—and slowly descended, letting whoever was in here with you hear each and every footstep.

Jotaro watched you turn the corner with a blank expression that could only be surprise, cigarette still frozen a few inches from his face.  He probably hadn’t moved a muscle the moment he he heard you come in.

You stopped on the last step, still several feet away but high enough that the difference in height wasn’t as extreme.  You leveled him with a stare you hoped was cold and waved the folded-up note in your free hand.

“Hey, Kujo.  Let’s talk.”  

If Jotaro was surprised that you knew the note was his, he didn’t show it.  He just leaned forward a little, maybe to check and see if you really had come alone.  “You’re early.  None of your groupies came to back you up?”

If they knew I was meeting you, maybe, you thought.  What you actually said was: “I’m already doing something at the time you wanted to meet, and I figured we could get this over with before I head to the arcade.”

Jotaro growled, a low rumble deep in his throat as his eyes bored into yours.  The brim of his cap threw most of his face into shadow, giving his sharp features a more menacing cast, but you didn’t flinch.  You’d seen worse.

“What can I do for you, Kujo?  Hoping to get my homework?  Money, cigarettes?  I hope for your sake this isn’t a confession, because after what you’ve done to my friends I won’t have any problem breaking your heart.”

Miiki.  Reo.  Yamamoto.  In between injuries and nebulous troubles, the boys who tagged along with your group after school were suddenly finding excuses to not hang out, and your other friends were starting to follow suit.  It didn’t take a Philip Marlowe to figure out why, but you got all the proof you needed when you confronted Yamamoto at his house and all but forced Jotaro’s name out of him.

“They’re not your friends,” he hissed, taking a step forward, “they’re a bunch of hangers-on who only want to talk to you because they think you’re attractive.  That, or they’re trying to get something.”

You laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Oh, and that’s something you’d know all about, huh?”  Jotaro’s scowl was growing deeper and more dangerous by the second, but you couldn’t help but grin; if fists were his weapons, words were yours.

“Maybe if you bothered to talk to people more, you’d understand.  You could have had that with us, not that it’s going to happen anymore—not after the stunt you pulled.  They’re my friends, and they could have been yours!”  As if someone else was speaking, you felt your voice rise, felt the heat fill your face.  

There was a smaller voice somewhere in the back of your head that whispered that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to provoke him like this, but it was easy to ignore.  Giving Jotaro exactly what he deserved felt too good.

“I don’t care who they are, damn it!” Jotaro shouted back, carried forward in the burst of his words, until he was inches away from your face.  You moved to push him away or take a step back, and realized that his hands were wrapped around your shoulders, holding you in place.

That little voice was getting a little louder.

“I never want to see you talking to them again.”  He hissed, watching your eyes widen as if he’d slapped you.  Maybe he thought he’d cow you into compliance if he got physical, but the rage that filled you—rage at this bastard for daring to think he could step in and control your life, with one conversation—overwhelmed any instinct you had to obey.

“No.  No, I won’t,” you spat, “I’m not going to cut myself off from everyone just because you want me to be as alone and scared and miserable as you.”

You made your move, in the instant the words hit home and his face twisted in inarticulate rage, bringing your knee up to slam into his groin and give you the space you needed to get away.  You—

In the next instant, you weren’t looking into his face but at the washed-out wall of the stairwell, peculiarly slanted, and it took another heartbeat for your mind to catch up and realize you were looking at it from the ground.

You had been in a car accident once.  There was a strange sensation—not quite vertigo, not quite nausea—that overcame you after the initial overwhelming force slammed you backward into your seat, drawing the breath from your lungs and the blood from your face.  It was so strange, feeling it now.

Had he moved?  You didn’t see it.  And yet, you had been hit and sent flying backward.  The back of your neck must have connected with the cement edge of the stair behind you, something you knew was horrible but couldn’t really feel too worried about.  You watched a thin line of ants make their way along the cracks in the wall with a faraway sense of alarm.

Could you get up?  You should get up.  

You couldn’t get up.  You could see your hand, fallen by your face in the awkward sprawl Jotaro had knocked you into, and you could see it twitch but you couldn’t make it close.  You couldn’t move it to prop yourself up.  You couldn’t do anything.

Someone pressed their hand to your neck, shaking with enough force that you felt your chin jitter a little.  A face came into view; Jotaro’s, of course.  No doubt admiring his handiwork, even though all the anger had vanished from his eyes and he was now holding your face as carefully as if you were made of glass.

A bit late for that, don’t you think, Kujo?  You wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“I don’t—I didn’t do that.  I didn’t…” he choked, a surprisingly vulnerable whimper from a man who practically dwarfed you.  His body curled forward, shielding your eyes from the eye-searingly bright light overhead.  

You felt yourself get pulled upward, gathered into his arms like a child collecting their doll.  One of his hands came back into view, now covered in something red.  Irritation rose in your throat, and you longed to kick at him, to tell him put me down before you get that all over my uniform, but all that came from your throat was a high-pitched whine.

“I know.  I know.” he whispered, brushing the hair from your face, leaving a streak of something warm and wet in its place.  “I’ll…I’ll fix this.  I’ll take you home, find out what happened.  I’ll take care of you.”

Your head lolled forward, resting against his shoulder as he pushed through the door and carried you out of the back of the building, away from the sounds of other people.  The pain was coming, now, a stabbing pain that sat behind your eyes and radiated through your head, overwhelming all thought.  Maybe it was better not to think.

Your senpai would take care of you.

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

[tonyglowheart]

Hello I see people in fics having LSX call WWX Baba but I've also seen people say that its too modern to use. Do you know what besides A-Die (what I've seen LSZ written to call LWJ by fans) would LSZ call WWX? Especially if its for a fic where wangxian raise LSZ together

Hi! I don’t know if you saw already, but I did toss a couple replies into the ask  you sent to ouyangzizhensdad. Someone else whose url I cannot remember off the top of my head did too, I think they suggested fuqin?

So... okay I glanced at the baike page for 爸爸 bc I was curious, and I kind of got the sense that “baba is modern” is sort of like a Tiffany Problem situation? Wherein it WAS around for a lot longer than ppl think, but because ppl have a certain association with it, and with specific terms (also like how people think Mister is modern, and Master is more archaic, but actually at some point, "Mister” was the more “formal” version, and “master” is used with, like, the children of the “Mister” of the household), it’s “impossible” to use in historical-y settings without throwing ppl out? (Actually it was so interested to me because I think it said that 父 used to be pronounced ba, and that has... Implications for like 父皇 which you’ll see in historical dramas, does that mean it used to be pronounced bahuang?? that just seems wrong lol.. for the same Tiffany Problem reason ppl have with ba)

Tbh I think you’ll have a lot less issue with it in the context of English fic, because I.. also want to throw in a general, writing-with-color style caution, to like... examine why you’re throwing in pinyin, and what purpose it serves. I do think there’s value in using these original terms in certain places, esp for relational terms, where there IS meaning imparted by the CN term that isn’t there with EN tls/approximates, but that just peppering it in for the sake of that “foreign” flavor isn’t always necessary. Like, furen doesn’t really need to be kept imo, because I think that translates fairly one-to-one to Madam, or “Sect Leader” (even tho MDZS’s usage of 氏 and then ExR’s translation of such as Sect and then the normalization of it does cause some issues as far as like, literal translation goes, I do think that it’s not necessarily a “wrong” choice to make, given the way that cultivation sects operate in MDZS and this sort of conflation of a “sect” with a “clan” or sort of like a ...feudal cohort kind of situation (I don’t actually know that much about feudalism I’m using the term more colloquially here D:). Another example I had thrown into the reply on the other ask, was a fic that I thought did a pretty good job in terms of trying to research and insert more “local flavor” but respectfully, but then bc I came across more posts talking about “well what is the purpose of italicizing foreign words, or peppering them in?” - I started noticing some things, such as their usage of “hanfu” every time to mean clothing, when really... if we’re talking “diegetically”/Watsonianly, they’d either call it whatever specific type of article of clothing each was, or just... clothing. Because the designation of hanfu, I do think, is more of a modern phenomenon? don’t quote me on this.

Okay to like... actually try to answer your question... I think a’die to me reads a bit more informal than I’d see A-Yuan call LWJ. In canon, he’s obviously close to LWJ, but still quite formal in his address (and LWJ is quite formal with his brother and uncle, but he’s obviously pretty close to them). Fuqin is an option, but it feels a little... cold, like that’s more something you would refer to other ppl’s fathers, or if you’re referring to your father to other people, and not necessarily something you’d call him directly? (this can be subjective thought, and it could be fine. It just... doesn’t seem to fit, for me. edit: looking at what some of these info pages in CN are saying, ppl see to say that fuqin is a common form of address for father by non-royals, so maybe that’s another form of Tiffany Problem, where it seems overly formal & distant. A source also says that fathers who have an official position would be called 父亲大人(fuqindaren)). I’m not sure any of the other variations I see seem to fit, since 生父 seems to be for blood-related fathers (or even if it’s not, the term is going to create issues), and 家父 (jiafu) sounds nice but it says specifically it’s used if you’re addressing your father to other ppl and want to do it in a more elegant way... just plain 爹 is a probably what I’d suggest as a happy medium, except then you have the problem if the pinyin being “die” and well.. So maybe “fuqin” is the best option here after all, just because of the English fic context? :’) I don’t like it though, I’d probably prefer 爹...

Okay sorry this is messy, but it’s... not a simple question, and I’m trying to give you some context for where I started and where I’ve gone with my rumination on this. Because kind of in the end... I still think a’die and baba might be the best way to go forward, because re: baba (1) the issues of “anachronism” aren’t an issue bc it’s not set in a specific time period where you’d want that level of specificity (2) you’re writing in English, and that’s already a level of removal from the original context and usage, so you’re balancing the meaning vs the “foreignness” it impacts to the fic too; and regarding “a’die”... it’s better than just “die” as far as how it reads in English :’) sadly :’) even though I think just plain 爹 might work better. 父亲大人 I think ends up a biiiit too hoity. Although. if you find baba too “anachronistic,” you could go with a’die and a’ba, which would parallel the “set” familiarity structure of the added “a-” we see in MDZS.

Also related but kind of sidebar: apparently the original meaning of 爹 actually is used for fathers who have fathered more than 3 children, which makes sense morphologically bc it’s made of 父 (father) and 多 (many) lol.. anyway

I know this was very long and kind of windy so if there’s anything you are confused about or have further questions on, please feel free to reach out again. Hopefully the added emphasis of the “conclusion” helps guide you to where I ended up as far as my ruminations on this question/issue go, and the rest of if helps to add some context on my thought process(es) behind the conclusion.

[sapphicdalliances]

Dear Chocolatier,

thank you so much for being here!! my sincere apologies for the lateness and messiness of this letter! sorry about my incredibly inconsistent capitalisation! it has been updated on the 8th of january, and may receive more updates this week.

I’m a simple bitch with simple tastes; here is a general summary of my preferences, and fandom-specific notes and prompts can be found further down!

I very much enjoy:

Fics that are short, but imply a longer, deeper verse; since this exchange is for short fics, but some of my prompts seem expansive, I just want to give you carte blanche permission to dip into an AU, splash around in it, and simply not provide additional details.

Comedic tones, slice-of-life, lighthearted fun, any amount of improbable romcom tropes

Am also on board with misunderstandings and drama as long as there is a happy ending!

I’m deeply okay with AUs, and most likely would be down for any modern, romcom, fantasy/fairytale, gender swap, or remix/crossover AUs you feel inspired to explore! My favourite settings include mundane/urban fantasy (witches! werewolves!), anachronism-stew-with-magic western fantasy jumbles, and disney’s Tangled.

Writing tropes I love:

Proposal fic

Wedding fic where the couple getting married is not the main couple

Outsider/third character POV of the main couple

Exes who are still in love/getting back together

Friends-with-benefits-with-feelings/did a bad job keeping it casual

Shipfic where two or more couples are contrasted

Oblique declarations of love/saying i love you without saying i love you

Provision and caretaking (acts of service!)

Aggressive matchmaking/wingmanning by an enthused friend

Hanahaki, or any other improbably dramatic instances of Cannot Spit It Out

Arranged marriage/fake marriage/fake dating

Epistolary fic

Regrettably I also love a/b/o, especially the kind that emphasises on scent safety and contains little to no actual sex

Art tropes I love, if you offered art:

Art where the characters simply look fond.

Fashion remixes – street fashion, cultural/traditional clothes, festival clothes, renfaire-esque clothes, beach photoshoot, get wild with it

Putting animal characteristics on one or both of them

Botanical motifs + celestial motifs

When plants grow directly out of people

The thing where character A is focused on something they’re doing or seeing, and the character B is focused only, wholly, desperately on A. please… the Gaze

Depictions of intimacy where faces are partially or fully hidden, but the body language is gentle

Characters SLEEPING next to each other, or comfortably doing separate activities in each other’s presence

If you wish to get frisky with your fills:

Yes!

Go for it!

I don’t have strong top/bottom preferences (and usually enjoy it when they switch or are otherwise generally equitable) so whatever you’re in the mood for is fine!

Kink tropes I very much enjoy include oral, restraints, praise kink, when proud characters cry during sex because they love their partners so much, and xeno tropes.

I love non-horny sex scenes; comedic, silly, charged, fraught, or simply affectionate exchanges that happen to include sex are my favourite. Feelings are the real kissing disease.

But like, if you wanna get horny about it.

Chase your bliss.

They simply must be in love.

I’m not as into:

Kidfic

First person narration

Soulmate AUs specifically

Kink wise, my only major squicks are incest, teacher/student, and public sex/getting caught, but i’m also not super keen on daddy kink, toilet stuff, or anything with blades or needles.

In general, please avoid:

Character death or serious/permanent injury

Animal abuse or death

Infidelity

Hopeless or downer endings

Fandom specific info:

Haikyuu!!

changed my life, cured my depression, what can be said about it? truly one of the most important series to me of all time. all musings on craft and creativity aside, let’s focus on the TRUE LOVE!!

i’m all caught up with the manga and supplementary materials!

suggested prompts: - sakuatsu, being mean to each other on purpose vs. being soft to each other by accident - kagehina or iwaoi dealing with LDR - kyouhaba are forced to cooperate on an innocuous, preferably wholesome task, such as gardening, or finding the owner of a lost dog, and it goes approximately As One Would Expect - bokukuroo + overheard phone conversation: and you've slept together how many times now? hmm. yeah, that's not technically a bromance (not in a no-homo way, just in a we-are-both-so-stupid-and-like-each-other-so-much-way) - actually that overheard phone conversation would work for any of these ships.

suggested prompts, art-specific: - festival clothes!! - put some wings on some of them. now it's bird romance, which is for birds - (i lied, this isn't art-specific at all, wingfic is always welcome in any of its forms) - just pick up your whole boyfriend and carry him like that. maybe even kiss him.

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Oofuri

suggested prompts: - Hanai and Tajima really. struggle to get together. for like a bunch of years probably? Tajima copes with it by patiently processing his emotions in a healthy way and enjoying some casual dating. Hanai copes with it, as he does all things, by not coping - The ways Abe and Mihashi learn to take care of each other… Mihashi cooking 4 Abe… T_T

Promare

i simply think the twink and the himbo are in love.

Ace Attorney

favourite klapollo dynamic goes like this:

klavier: *genuinely and sincerely in love with apollo, in a very soft way* apollo: *furious* he's mocking me. why are you like this? klavier: I enjoy your company apollo: FINE, KEEP YOUR SECRETS

also consider: - what if klavier was a big ol golden retriever and apollo was just an angry liddol bunny. like, think about it

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Wotakoi

I love that this series has three couples in different stages of a relationship: one who’ve been together for years and love each other like well-worn grooves; one who have history but have only just recently begun a relationship and are discovering each other anew; and one who probably will not bring themselves to share a kiss for another 27 calendar years.

Narumi/Hirotaka: Honestly, the main couple of a series usually goes over my head a bit, but the more i thought about these two the more wretchedly fond of them I became. The thing I think of the most is how Narumi taught him how to smile as a child; how she did things that meant nothing to her, so easily does kindness come, but that meant so much to him; and how now that they are grown, he does things for her that take no effort, but shake her foundations. I think theirs is a love that grows quietly; something that cannot change the world, but can change them.

Koyanagi/Kabakura: My thoughts on these two are not complex, but they are deeply positive. I love how huge their personalities are, and how they fit around and against each other; I love the implication that despite their endless bickering, they are not an on-again-off-again kind of relationship, and have instead chosen each other over and over again for ten straight years. I love that despite everything, they are kind to each other, first and foremost; they find ways to apologise and to take care of each other, and treat each other gently in private.

Kou/Naoya: I love every ship in this manga equally but perhaps I love Kou/Naoya more equally than the other two? They are just so kind and so silly, and so sweet to each other in exactly the way both of them didn’t realise they were missing. I think about Naoya being told that Kou is “okay with being alone”, and realising that “okay with it” and “have accepted it” are different, and taking his little baby steps to fix it. I think about Kou giving Naoya every last drop of patience he’s trained himself not to accept, and doing so because it simply makes her happy. My only concern is that they are both bottoms. I don’t have a solution for this.

suggested prompts, fic:

- accidentally dating ft. Kou and Naoya, or, “and you’ve made out how many times now? Hmm. Yeah, that’s not technically a bromance.” - 5 times Hirotaka and Narumi almost, almost kissed, and 1 time they did; the unresolved romantic tension may kill me and it would be worth it - what Hirotaka and Narumi taught each other (apart from the more mundane gaming and life skills, i believe that she taught him how to smile and be loved by others, and he taught her how to be loved by herself!) - smutty domesticity ft. Koyanagi and Kabakura — a lazy Sunday, laundry in the sun, fucking on the couch, everything easy with familiarity - (addendum to above: pegging)

suggested prompts, art: - festival clothes - someone’s getting married - naoya: *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a t - red string of fate motifs

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun

seowaka: they are idiots, and they like each other very much, but they do not know. i love a tall crying boy and his short but much more powerful girlfriend.

chiyo/nozaki + chiyo/nozaki/mikorin: im rooting for her in the face of such overwhelming stupidity. one himbo is difficult enough to seduce but two. chiyo is a hero and a woman of rare courage. i like the pair and the trio equally; again, if you go with trio, it’s important that they all love each other please!

suggested prompts: - 5 times any of these ships went on a date without realising, and the time they realised - urban fantasy AU where Waka is a hapless monster hunter and Seo is an annoying but deeply harmless werewolf who’s been terrorizing his town?? - fairytale AU where Seo believes she must rescue the prince from the tower and deliver him back to the kingdom capital, and the prince, who had not realised he’d been kidnapped, thinks Seo is a usurper from a rival kingdom who must be supervised all the way back to the kingdom capital to be served her justice

suggested prompts, art-specific: - festival clothes… - nozaki carrying chiyo, who’s carrying mikorin - (seo carrying waka) - waka sleeping peacefully in seo’s presence… :’(

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

we made it through all the fandoms.

Thank you for making it to the end of this whole disaster; I hope at least one of the prompts sparked joy! The most important thing to me is that whatever you end up doing, you are able to enjoy the process at least somewhat, and deliver a creation that you like! I can also be found on twitter at @hawberries_ (for art) and @popplioikawa (for general ramblings). If you need some more inspo, I recommend going through my art tags for the selected ships because I put a lot of Opinions into my fanart.

[lazaefair]

Hi! Just wanted to ask, but do you have any idea where the headcanon(??) came from that Billy and Goody have been together for almost a decade? I see it a lot in fic, but I don't remember if it ever came up in the movie. Thank you for your time if you choose to answer this! No obligation!

You’re right, it’s never established one way or another in the movie. Earlier fics go with a wider range of headcanons: anywhere from 3 to 7 to more than 10 years, all written quite plausibly. I think the “decade or so” fanon just kind of grew as people did more historical research and published more and more meta trying to pin down timelines for the characters. @1ltreede’s timeline for Goodnight in particular is probably one of the most established bits of fanon we have, given how detailed it is and how well it lines up with the clues we have from canon (especially after a deleted scene totally confirmed their headcanon about the sharpshooter at Chantilly :D).

“Decade or so” also seems to line up with the extremely old-married-couple vibe that LBH and EH chose to play: that level of unthinking ease and familiarity and wordless communication tracks with my personal experience, both for actual married couples and for close long-term friendships.

And then there are the dates: official sources say the movie is set in 1879. The Civil War ended in 1865. We’re all going to pretend that there are no historical anachronisms in the script, so that’s 14 blank years to play with. 

We know Sam rescues Goody from being beaten to death very soon after the Civil War ended, so probably 1865.

Bogue lynches Sam and Sam’s family in 1867 in Kansas.

Goodnight knows about Sam’s history and vendetta against Bogue. I don’t see that as information Sam would share with just anybody, and the characters clearly have a strong friendship, so that’s a good case for Goodnight being in Kansas around 1867 - maybe he rescued Sam from the rope himself, or showed up as soon as he heard, or ran into Sam soon afterwards.

But Sam doesn’t know who Billy is in 1879, or at least has not personally met Billy. Either way, he doesn’t know that Goodnight has (essentially) gotten married, as he does not mention a companion to Faraday and Teddy Q.

So that probably means Billy and Goody meet after Sam and Goody have gone their separate ways again. 

And that Sam and Goody haven’t seen each other in a really long time by 1879.

But Goody is, as we know, an absolute mess of a human being. And was probably even worse off in 1867-68, only a few years after the war. I think it’s reasonable to say that if he hadn’t met Billy, he would’ve gotten himself shot, or drunk or drugged himself to death pretty quickly.

Which means that he can’t have spent more than a year or two alone after splitting up with Sam.

So for the remaining 12 years - already down to just a decade and a bit - we’re accounting for

How much time it takes for Goody and Sam to fall out of touch with each other enough that they’re no longer updated on each other’s personal affairs.

How much time we think Goody could’ve survived on his own. Relatedly: how much time Goody spends hunting Billy.

How much time it takes for Billy and Goody to grow to trust each other, become friends, fall in love, and get together.

How much time it takes for their relationship to mature from brand-new to steady and long-term.

The exact number of years allotted to each thing is for everyone to decide for themselves. But for me, the last stage would logically take the longest amount of time out of that decade and a bit, which automatically means it’s going to be somewhere between “almost a decade” and “a decade or so.”

[noradarhkpalmer]

and i will hold onto you

Title: and i will hold onto you

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer aka Darhkatom

Warnings: It sad

Summary/Notes: It's the anniversary of Anna Loring, Ray's late fiancee's, death and this year it's hitting Ray harder than it ever has. This time he has Nora there to comfort him.

I’m so sorry I fell behind on these! I had some personal health problems come up but I am going to try and catch up! This one is extra long! Enjoy!

Day thirteen of 25 days of Darhkatom! Feel free to click the through the tag to see the others! Basically, I will be posted all loosely related (unless stated otherwise) fics for 25 days straight!

Ray, eternal sunshine, always smiling, Palmer was quiet on what Nora thought was a beautiful day in May. Anachronism activity had been light and so the Legends decided on a little shore leave. Ray still had an apartment in Star City so they decided to go there. Nora was surprised to see Ray relieved to spend time away from the other Legends and yes they were insufferable at times but she also knew that Ray and the Legends were thicker than any blood ties that he formed with this family.

She followed him up to his apartment with their belongings and walked in behind him. When Nora got to the bedroom she placed her bag on one side of his bed and she sighed. Something was wrong with Ray. She walked back out to the living room and saw him staring out one of the floor to ceiling windows. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek to his back.

“Hey… what’s on your mind, babe?”

Ray turned so he could wrap and arm around Nora and she snuggled into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and sighed. “It’s nothing, I’m sorry I’ve been quiet, just trying to adjust to being back here.”

“Yeah, I guess it has been a while for you, huh?” She closed her eyes as he absently stroked her hair. “Do you want to go out and get lunch or maybe or in or cook? I’m up for anything.”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, we can order in.” He broke away in search of takeout menus and left Nora at the window.

Nora wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. He was still hiding something from her.

It wasn’t like Ray to put up walls like this. Usually he was knocking hers down. She walked back into the bedroom and was putting books on the bedside table when she knocked a frame off the nightstand. She heard it thud gently onto the carpet and picked it up. It was a woman, about her height, with kind brown eyes, brown hair, smiling standing next to Ray. She had her arms around his middle and an engagement ring glittered in the photo. Nora sucked in a breath. It was Anna.

She combed back through memories and factoids about Ray until she settled on one. Deathstroke had killed his fiancee in May not even four years ago… no it was four years ago… to the day. It was the anniversary of Anna’s death.

That’s what was wrong.

Nora wasn’t sure how to act being on the other side of things. She wasn’t sure the best way to approach him or if she should approach him. Maybe she should just let him sulk and be sad Ray Palmer for the day. Nora sat the frame gently back in its original place and continued unpacking her things. She walked back out into the living room to find Ray on the couch with takeout menus in front of him. She sat on his lap, trying to see if the affection would distract him and he wrapped an arm around her, smiling sadly.

“Hey… let’s order some Chinese and then we can watch a movie, okay? How about… Singin’ In the Rain?”

The prospect of watching his favorite movie with his favorite girl seemed to perk him up a bit. Ray nodded and called in their order.

Nora kissed the top of his head, sitting in his lap afforded her a height to do so, and carded a hand through his hair. Her boy needed a haircut. She liked that he was growing out to look less boyscout-ish but it was only getting unruly. The longer hair didn’t suit him as well as his shorter style. It was less Ray to her.

When they got their food, Nora queued up the TV to start their movie. Nora pulled out the thickest blanket she could find and draped it over both of them, something inside of her, knowing it was the anniversary of her boyfriend’s ex fiancee’s death, she wanted to protect Ray, his heart, and anything else to do with him and his feelings about today. She rested her head on his shoulder and started the movie.

They ate in silence as the movie played, Nora wanting so badly during the slower moments to broach the subject but she just couldn’t. They had shifted to sit only somewhat further apart and when Ray finished his food, twice her size as he may be, decided he wanted to lay his head in her lap. Nora had no problem with it. She carded her fingers through his hair absently and let him just lose himself in the movie, knowing that was probably more than she could do to help in that moment.

When the movie ended, Ray sat up and pulled Nora in for a hug. He squeezed her a lot tighter than she ever remembered him hugging her and she hugged him back. She couldn’t let him know she knew, she wanted him to tell her. He needed to be ready.

Nora watched him get up from the couch and throw their takeout boxes away. He muttered something about going for a run and that he would be back soon. Nora nodded and remained seated on the couch as she watched him disappear into their bedroom, come back out in sweats, and kiss her softly before heading out the door.

xxxx

She knew this went beyond any snooping she had ever done for a mission but she was just curious. It was four years ago but three of those years were taken up by being a Legend full time so who knows what she would find. She started with the chest of drawers, all his clothes, mostly workout and loungewear and undergarments. Next she moved onto the dresser and pulled open each drawer, trying to gauge if any of the belongings were Anna’s. She only got halfway through the dresser before she stopped. Something just felt wrong about this. She took in a deep breath, this would’ve been the place Anna and Ray would’ve started their lives, and probably had begun to before she died. Ray had probably attempted to change as much of he could without selling the place. There was no trace Anna, no ghost of her memory to find.

Ray had been gone for hours at this point and she was starting to get worried. The sun was starting to set and she hadn’t been in this city for over twenty years. Somewhere a very scared fourteen year old Nora Darhk had just been possessed by Mallus and even though she had met a very handsome knight and his team and tried to rescue her from her prison, she was still somewhere in this city, alone and afraid.

It was much like she felt now. She had never been the one to figure out how to break someone’s walls down and Ray was a seasoned pro at this point. She guessed that also meant he was an expert at putting them up. Nora looked out the window onto nightfall settling over Star City and sighed.

“Ray, where are you?”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there but she finally heard the door open and turned around. Ray. He didn’t look so good. Intoxicated? No. He’d be stumbling. High? No that wasn’t Ray at all. He just looked… broken.

Nora slowly approached him, not sure how much contact he wanted or needed.

“Ray?... Is everything alright?”

Ray simply shook his head. He sat down on the couch and Nora sat with him. She took one of his hands and stroked hair away from his face with the other.

“You said you were headed out for a jog, did something happen?”

“I shouldn’t have gone there.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have gone to the cemetery. It’s too soon.”

“Too soon for what? Talk to me.”

Ray shook his head. “It should’ve been me. I got away with just a couple of broken bones but she died. It should’ve been me, I was there protect her and I didn’t. I did the one thing I thought I was good at: protecting others.”

Nora stroked his hair. “You’re going to have to give me more context, sweetie, who is this about?”

“Her name… her name was Anna Loring… she was my fiancee. She died four years ago when Deathstroke attacked Star City. I got away with a broken leg but they… he just snapped her neck like she didn’t matter. But she did. She was the most important person in my life… I don’t… I don’t remember being this sad last year or even the year before… I don’t know why it’s hitting me so much this year…”

Nora shrugged. “I’m so sorry, Ray… I don’t know what to tell you. Before I could even really mourn my parents I was placed in protective services and told to forget about who I was before. I was Emily now and I was an orphan. It didn’t matter that my mom and dad had just died. So I had to lock it away. I didn’t deal with it for years. I think it’s okay to cry about this, she was important to you… you loved her and you were planning on spending the rest of your life with her. You don’t just get over that.”

Ray laid his head on Nora’s chest, the angle awkward because of his size, but Nora reclined into the couch to make it a bit easier. She continued to stroke his hair and took in deep breaths until his breathing was in sync with hers. She felt her shirt become wet and knew he was crying. She hummed quietly against the top of his head to let him know she was there.

“I know I’m probably bad at this since you’re the one with tons more experience at dealing with all of my junk but, I’m here for you, Ray… I’m sorry you lost her and know it’s okay to be sad about it. You can cry on me as much as you want, we can move to the bedroom if that’s more comfortable or we can stay right here. Whatever you want. I can make us tea or I can stay right here. You call the shots.”

Ray lifted his head up and reached to wipe away his tears but Nora caught his hands. She wiped the tears from his cheeks instead and reached for a tissue on the coffee table. She handed it to him and he smiled in thanks. He leaned in and kissed her softly and she smiled sadly as they pulled away.

“I think… I think that tea and staying here is what I want to do.”

Nora smiled. “I’ll get the kettle on.”

xxxx

They sat there in silence, both stirring their mugs to keep their mind focused on something. Ray hadn’t said much more but Nora knew to just let him be, give him the time he needed to reveal or not reveal whatever he felt comfortable with.

“Nora…?”

“Yeah, Ray?”

“Thank you… for… well… you were my rock tonight… this has been the hardest anniversary I’ve had. And I don’t think I would’ve gotten through it without you.” He took her hand. “Thank you, really, I mean it.”

“You have been there for so many things for me, Ray, I didn’t know exactly what you were struggling with but I could tell something was off. I just needed to make sure I made myself emotionally available. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this is for you.”

“But your parents…”

“Died a long time ago and my dad died a hero the second time around. It’s… the same but different. I guess I know what you’re going through in the sense that I’ve lost people too, but I haven’t lost anyone that meant as much to me as Anna did to you.”

Ray squeezed her hand three times, “I don’t want you to think that because of what we have and what Anna and I had, they’re somehow in competition.”

Nora waved him off. “No, I could never think that. I know I can never replace Anna, I wouldn’t try to. She was probably very different from me and that helps me to know that I definitely could never replace her. I want whatever part in your life you’ll have me for.”

Ray pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “Anna would want me to be happy… I think she would like you. You guys were very different yes, but I needed her for the part of my life between college and becoming the ATOM. But I need you for this part of my life. The part of my life that I hope is the rest of my life because I don’t want you to leave. You don’t just have a part in my life. You are my life.”

Nora leaned up and kissed him softly. “Let’s head to bed.”

Ray nodded and followed her wordlessly to the bedroom.

xxxx

Nora, now changed into a nightgown, was finishing up in the ensuite bathroom when she saw Ray come up behind her in the mirror. He was in pajamas too and wrapped his arm around her torso. Nora placed her hands on his forearm and rested her chin in the crook of his elbow.

“Hi.” She smiled, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

Ray buried his face into her neck and breathed her in. Trying to hold onto her impossibly tighter than before.

Nora let him hold her for a minute before turning in his arms and cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him softly. She broke away and tugged on his hand to follow her back into the bedroom. She noticed the picture of Anna had been moved to his nightstand and she got under the covers next to him. Nora picked up her book and began to read. She reached for Ray’s hand and squeezed his hands three time, glancing up at him. He leaned in to kiss her once more before laying down for the night, facing her, and keeping their hands clasped together.

[sunshine-carlyle]

TGS Tag Game

Tagged by: @silverlynxx

1. When did you first watch TGS?

January 1st 2018! I remember being sort of hesitant, but the second it started I was hooked—I was sitting on the edge of my seat bouncing up and down for the whole of The Other Side and when the music stopped before the final chorus I was devastated because I thought it was over!

2. Who is your favourite character?

That’s actually really hard for me to answer! If I’d been asked a couple of months back, I would have undoubtedly said P.T.—everything he does in the film just makes me smile and makes my heart warm (it sounds cheesy but it’s true!). Now, though, I’m having a tough time choosing between him and Phillip—each time I see TGS, the urge to give Flip a hug gets a little stronger. I’d probably still say P.T., but sometimes Phillip, depending on what mood I’m in.

3. What are your canon and fanon ships?

I’m super in love with the canon ships, both of which I think are brilliant. Aside from that, though, I’m a hardcore Barlyle shipper. I actually only really started shipping them when I showed my friend the film—when they were in the bar, she turned to me and said they look like they want to...—but I’ve been head-over-heels for this pairing ever since! Another ship I like is Charity/Phin/Phil, but as long as Charity is treated well in my Barlyle I’m all over that shit.

4. What’s your favourite TGS song?

Honestly? They’re all incredible! TGS is one of the few musicals where I genuinely love every single song. Having said that, I will always have a MASSIVE soft spot for The Other Side! The guitar part is fantastically reminiscent of percussion, especially at the beginning, the harmonies between P.T. and Phillip are impeccable, and the way they’re so in sync, both with finishing each other’s sentences while singing and just the entire scene? YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES. Honestly though I could yell about all the songs for years DM me anytime!!

5. Are you a content creator?

Yup yup! My work is predominantly fic, although I very occasionally doodle pictures as well! My fic uploading is rather sporadic, because my motivation is best represented by tsunamis and calm seas, rather than a constantly-flowing river, but I’m still just gonna link my AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackpip

6. If General Tom Thumb and The Irish Giant got into a fight, who would win and how?

Probably Charles! I’m not sure how exactly, but he seems rather ruthless—I, for one, would be afraid around his pistol.

7. If you joined Barnum’s circus, what would your act be?

Hopefully something musical! I play a lot of instruments, and the opportunity to do something along those lines would be awesome. Failing that, I’m super loose-jointed and can do all sorts of weird things with my thumbs and wrists in particular that would definitely get a reaction from an audience!

8. Favourite fanfiction trope or AU?

I’m a sucker for modern AUs! Literally anything in a modern setting, and I’m sold—bonus points if it’s more subtle anachronisms that give the time period away than a direct statement. Also, I’m not sure if it’s a trope as such, but I adore hurt/comfort where one plays with the other’s hair to soothe them! We need more Phil comforting Phin in the world.

9. Do you have a non-TGS song that you associate with the film or a TGS character?

HOLY. SHIT. I have so many, especially for Barlyle! I literally made a playlist. Some highlights include:

Broadripple Is Burning (Margot & The Nuclear So and So’s): “And, darling, I’m lost, and everything that I have loved has turned to stone, so pack your bags and come back home.”

I Was Drunk (Margot & The Nuclear So and So’s): “And I sing to you, whisper the secrets you already knew, and I’m begging ‘Please reconsider and come back home to me’ ‘cause we’ll all be dead quite soon.”

3 Rounds and a Sound (Blind Pilot): “I was swimming; my eyes were dark ‘til you woke me and told me that opening is just the start. It was.”

And this one just makes me think of Phillip (even just from the title alone) and Phin comforting him so much:

Don’t Let Them See You Cry (Manchester Orchestra): “So breathe, while you’re alive. Let the big band play as you tap leather with your fingers. And I tried to write in style, but the words just come and I write them soon as I see them.”

I could talk about music and Barlyle songs forever, though! That’s literally two of my favourite things combined

10. What mythological creature would you add to the circus?

I’m not entirely sure! Probably a pegasus—I can imagine some impressive routines involving one of those and the elephants.

11. What’s one of your favourite TGS headcanons?

There are so many! One of my favourites is that Phillip is so particular with his hair because it was one of the few things he could still exercise control over when he was still living with his parents. As a result, whenever anyone messes it up, he feels off-kilter and rather panicky until he can fix it again—after years and years, it had become a coping mechanism of sorts. Having said that, Phineas thinks he looks positively adorable with ruffled bed hair, and Phillip is slowly growing more comfortable with not doing his hair until just before he leaves the house, as opposed to waking up early to do so before Phineas joins him.

Other headcanons I love include Phineas having ADHD, Bisexual!Phil having a lot of trouble coming to terms with his sexuality and occasionally wobbling I absolutely have to write about that one day (I’m absolutely not projecting whatsoever shsksj), and platonic soulmates Phin and Charity/Anne and Phil!

12. If you could ask any TGS character a question, who and what would it be?

That’s super tricky! I’d probably ask P.T. where he got the lamp he gave Caroline from, or how he made it, because I absolutely adore it! Failing that, I’d straight-up ask Phillip for a hug because 9 times out of 10 that would 100% cheer me up shsksj

BONUS: Link/share one of your favourite TGS fanfictions or pieces of fanart!

There are so many incredible artists and writers in this fandom, and I really, genuinely enjoy every piece of content I come across!

I think, in terms of fanart, my favourite piece is anything done by @themissingmask —he was my secret santa on the TOSdiscord server and did an absolutely phenomenal job! <3

Regarding fanfiction, I have three favourites: Just A Dead Man Walking by braille_upon_my_skin, Peanut Swells by @silverlynxx and And The Walls Are Closing In by @circus-playwright. All of them are hurt/comfort, but in different ways—I read Braille’s when I’m at my lowest, Lynxx’s makes me smile because of the interactions between P.T. and Caroline, and the last one is just some good, good Phin angst with Phillip comforting him (something I believe there should be a lot more of in the world!). <3<3<3

Links:

Just A Dead Man Walking (TW for attempted suicide and implied/referenced self-harm): https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070681

Peanut Swells: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000595

And The Walls Are Closing In: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488485

I tag: @circus-playwright @fandomingrandom and @rewrite-a-million-dreams

[bearslikedilfs]

@captkirkland​ Ah fuck yes I really do like reading in depth headcanons.  give me DETAIL.

In physical height I agree with you.  Relatively short and that forced him to be more strict than he wanted to be or might have been if taller, because in order to get respect he had to constantly appear to be someone not to be trifled with.  I think he shares a couple physical traits with both France and the germanic nations.  they’re subtle but if he stands right next to like Prussia or Germany you notice something about the shape of the face or nose.    I also think that he’s the only one of the UK that can actually get a tan bc the others just burn or freckle.  

I really really like reading fics involving the UK brothers because nearly everyone writes them like a soap opera or something where there’s constant hilarious drama and it’s just really funny. i’d love to write one myself but as an american I don’t think I’d get the slang right or even make them sound british enough in conversation.  However I can recommend Moonlighten on Ao3, their Feel the Fear series is insanely long and convoluted and is also fantastically good and well written.  There’s also several other series about it that they write.  I share a lot of my headcanons with them.

“Country brain” is a great word to describe the nation aspect.  You also mentioned his self-loathing because he knows he is hypocritical- he was colonized once, by Romans and Normans and others, and yet England colonized a massive portion of the world.  This also contributes to problems with several kinds of addictions.  I wrote a post here about how their attitudes towards addictions and things are probably different simply because they’re nations.  Basically, they aren’t going to die (permanently) from drinking or smoking, so why stop? 

I feel like there’s a potential for a great fic about the rock movement about Arthur and what he did then.  Of course there’s the music, but also, how did arthur feel, personally and physically, about the british empire declining and separating so rapidly? It happened relatively quickly in terms of history, and at the end of it England still exists.  How would it physically feel to be an empire that pretty much forcibly downsizes to a regular nation again?  In canon different things have different effects like economic problems manifest as colds or a flu but I feel as though this manifested as something not quite visible.  Nerve problems, seizures, chronic pain, issues with joints or muscles. It eventually went away, but before it did it really didn’t help england’s problem with addiction.

Yeah he loves fantasy, and dnd and all those kinds of things.  There’s a lot of renaissance festivals in the US and from what I’ve heard they don’t really do them in any other country? I bet he visits at least one every year.  In full costume but it’s not costume its his legit pirate outfit and he loves it cause he can belt out all the sea shanties he pleases and drink during the day without being judged (much) and people continually compliment the detail and historical accuracy of his “costume”.  And he can challenge people to duels and jousts and of course he doesn’t want to hurt anyone but he might as well use these swordfighting skills for something.  Bet he’s part of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) too. Nerd.  (I say this as someone who goes to a renaissance festival every year and plans to dive headfirst into the sca once this whole shitfest is over. )

AH YOU MADE THEM A TARTAN?!???!?!?!??!!   I LOVE IT  can i please use it? I was gonna draw something of Scotland playing bagpipes bc I play them to and i mean if fucking scotland DOESN’T play bagpipes i will eat my pants. (and then put on a kilt)   anyway I was just gonna use Scottish national tartan but I love that tartan!! Can you send me an image of it to use?

Also im waiting with bated breath for that scotland headcanon post you promised in the tags.  imma hold you to that  >: D 

Alright, so some Arthur Kirkland headcanons from me per @shithole-state’s request:

Arthur is genuinely such a complicated guy that it’s hard to really.. quantify him easily in words, I think. At times, he can seem like the complete antithesis of himself, and it’s not like he does that specifically on purpose, but there are certainly things he does do to throw people off about him.

Firstly, to me he’s.. a very small man. Like 5’4”-5’6”. Not that this is bad, but it makes his life even more complicated because people tended not to take him seriously when he was younger. It was a quick and harsh realization that he needed to harden himself against a sharp world that’d run him through if he didn’t.

Having grown up the way he did, the youngest of four brothers, who (in the canon I usually write from full of my own hcs,) had to deal with quite a lot of bullshit from them and his father during his upbringing. He looks more like Britannia than Celt of course, but that is for some very specific reasons. (Cough. The saxons being such a big part of early English history. Cough. Those were Germanic, not Celtic.) Often times I feel like he was the subject of bullying, considering those very early on English traumas, and I don’t really feel like he ever came across a genuine way to express himself. Emotionally, he’s stunted as hell, and he doesn’t preform in very healthy ways in regards to himself.. which.. y’know, eventually did come out in the way he treated others. He was a magic user, a witch, which obviously did not work very well with the sharp rise of Christianity, Catholicism, and Protestantism— and really that only made things so much worse.

I have a very specific view of how the personified nations behaved compared to how the governments of certain times did, because I absolutely believe that sometimes the countries, as their own people, did not agree with their bosses all the time! How could they? Their own people are getting hurt, the people of their friends, family. They are severely impacted by the wants of the people they represent, the land they call themselves— so of course they’d dissent. That comes out a lot in my specific canon with my friends a lot because we like to merge the 2Ps, Nyos, and even 2P Nyos into the canon verse to get a wider view of history. But, saying that, I fully believe that pirate Arthur specifically had a moment in time where he was.. literally a pirate. Against the East India Company, thieving, fighting, what have you. It was short lived, but he’d been a privateer and a sailor much longer, the literal pirate bit was towards the end when he started disagreeing hard with his own actions and the actions of his nation as a whole. I mean, how could a dude colonized to fuck and back very PERSONALLY entirely agree with that? But there was a part of his head that wanted land, wanted people in his “family.” It wasn’t right or okay, but at the start.. the idea of an empire didn’t seem so bad to him. It’d just be people in a family. Even if it’s a little hard, families are hard. Plus, it gave him such a rush and surge of power. What could be so bad about it? Which.. is the thought process that lead to a lot of self loathing during those lapses of (coined term with my friends) “country brain,” where he could make out what what going with those affected humans and what was actually happening. He started drinking then more than ever before, and it’s really never gone away.

He takes the harder roads of English history I think, out of some wish to keep Oliver from having to deal with that, believing he’s a touch more steeled than the other. Though, granted, it’s a thought in folly. A lot of his thoughts of himself are skewed, which really plays into how he behaves. He doesn’t care for people knowing his real feelings, hardening himself against prying eyes with an anger and a pissy face he’s had ever since his childhood. He hates the thought of being belittled and ruled, yet for a bit that’s what he did to people. He’s a hypocrite, and the worst part is that he knows it. He hates so much about himself, and yet even that twists himself because he has to carry himself highly. Nobody can hurt him if he does it first, and nobody can hurt him if he makes himself untouchable. So, he comes off narcisstic at times, probably because he is one after so many years. There’s so much going on in his head that’s unchecked, and he’s too prideful and staid in his ways to get it looked into on his own. Sometimes it all becomes too much though, and that’s when he has almost visceral breakdowns and has lapses in sanity (Britannia Angel, anyone?) before it all snaps back and he’s embarrassed about even carrying himself that way. These days he needs to have a more gentle nature outwardly, because that’s what’s been deemed as appropriate. He needs to be a gentleman in front of everyone, but especially both those he hurt, those who are afraid, or those who would judge him harshly if he didn’t. However, the facade is absolutely shatterable. There’s so many cracks in it sometimes that it confuses people sometimes about what kind of person he is. Dude had a huge one during the rock movement, which is incidentally where he gained back quite a bit of actual confidence in his own personal abilities, which is why I think his guitar is so damn important to him. But he also was partaking in quite a bit back then, the man has a real problem with addiction, but these days he’s cut back on mostly everything but smoking and drinking. unfortunately you can’t take the bottle out of his hand, or the music out of his head no matter what it sounds like! (sea SHANTIES) but all in all I find the man absolutely fascinating just because he is so diverse as a person on his own. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that he feels responsible for most of the world and is willing to absolutely lay down his life for the people he cares about either. There is just so much I could say about him, like he was a knight once! he loves high fantasy, he plays dnd! the list goes on, he’s such a complex person because the life he’s lead has been so— but at the end of the day he’s at home watching the bake off and doing needlework and I absolutely can’t stand him LOL

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Knights in Muddy Armor

The Legends track an anachronism to a Renaissance festival. Now, if they could just stop getting distracted...

Sort of a sequel to "Carry Me Home." (Leonard is back in Season 3, the Time Bureau is being a pain in the ass, and the team is hunting down anachronisms.) 

Happy birthday to @pir8grl​! And thanks to @larielromeniel​ for the beta (and an idea for the title). Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

"Now, remember. This anachronism could be as small as a piece of jewelry or as large as … well, as a human being." Sara's lips twitch briefly as Leonard, walking besides her, snorts. "Or bigger, I suppose."

Nate swallows, stopping in his tracks to regard their current destination. "But…Sara?"

"What?"

"How will we know?"

Sara sighs and stops to look at the sign on the gate the six Legends are approaching.

"Renaissance Festival," it reads, ornate words beneath a fanciful coat of arms. Other guests are trickling in through a gate beneath it, and there's faint music in the air, audible even at a distance. The site covers 35 acres, according to their records, and somewhere on those acres is the item—or creature, or person—they've come to find.

"Well," she says finally, "Ray has the temporal energy detector. And Gideon has…all the talents that allow her to make these calls. The rest of us will just have to keep our eyes open."

"That's … not a great plan," Nate tells her.

"You have a better one?"

"…no."

"Well, then." Sara slaps him on the back, smiling. "Let's go."

Behind her, Gideon frowns. "Why do humans do things like this?"

The Waverider's AI had made the surprise decision, only a week or so ago, to fashion herself a human body using the ship's regeneration tech and upload herself into it. Jax had been the only one she'd confided in before the actual process. While Sara hadn't heard her say out loud that it'd been because of the possibility of the Time Bureau reclaiming the ship, everyone had guessed that was indeed the case.

Jax, walking next to her, shakes his head, grinning. "It's fun, G," he tells her blithely. "You know, fun? People like to play make believe." He slows, studying the walls running around the grounds as they approach the front gate. "I mean, I don't really get this, but it isn't really that different from, oh, cosplay or something."

The dark-haired woman shakes her head in a mix of confusion and disapproval. "The Renaissance was not like this," she says, a note of bafflement in her voice. "If this is their way of achieving time travel without a time ship…"

"No, it's not about reality…"

Sara, listening in, chuckles as Jax gamely tries to explain-again. She glances at Leonard, only to see him watching her with that small, secretive smile, the one she's been seeing much more lately, ever since they'd decided to try this…well, she guesses it's a relationship. Not that they've had the time to do much more than steal a few kisses and a few moments here and there.

And not that those moments hadn't been rather enjoyable.

"They're doing it again," Nate says in a loud stage whisper to Ray, and Sara realizes she's been smiling back at Len. And since she'd been thinking about those stolen few moments the night before, it probably hadn't been an innocent-looking smile.

"Do they really think we don't know?" Ray stage-whispers back, as Mick bellows with laughter in the background and Amaya tries to hide a smile. "I mean, it's sort of obvious. And do they really think we can't, you know, be mature about this? After all, we're grownups."

"Obviously," Sara tells him drily as they show their tickets to the employees at the gate. "So mature."

"I'm mature!" Ray objects. Then he bounces on his toes to better see ahead. "Ooh, look! Puppets! Sara…"

"You all have an amount of the money of the time," Gideon reminds them primly as she pauses to take in the scene. "Any more would draw too much notice. It should prove adequate if you are not profligate."

"It's 2000; it's not that much out of our own time…"

"Which still does not mean you should use 2016 bills."

"All right, enough, people." Sara sighed. "All right. Nate, Ray, take the southwest area. Mick, Amaya, the southeast. Gideon and Jax, the northeast. We'll take the rest. Meet back in the..." She consults the map in her hand. "...in front of the main stage."

"Sweet! Sara, do you know…"

"Focus, Ray!"

"Focusing…"

Sara watches as the other members of her team head off through the sun-dappled grounds of the festival, then turns to Leonard. Who's watching her with that smile again.

"Stop that," she tells him.

"Stop what?" The Snart drawl is out in full force as the smile/smirk grows. He leans against a tree, eyeing her, looking extremely distracting in the short-sleeved gray shirt she'd finally convinced him to wear, lest he court heat exhaustion. (Gideon had helped him conceal the thick, twisted scar on his left forearm; Sara's not sure how.) He sees her looking and raises his eyebrows, smirking, folding his arms; she can see the muscles play in his arms and shoulders for once.

Oh, but two can play this game.

Sara sidles closer, clearing her throat. "Well," she tells him, "if you don't, I might very well drag you back to the ship and take advantage of the others being here. And that probably wouldn't work out well."

The words...and the low tone of her voice...have him licking his lips and looking a bit less composed. "Silvertop and the new girl are still there," he points out, his own voice rough, as she leans in.

"Zari, Len. Her name is Zari. And they don't need to know we're there."

He's about to say something--or kiss her, she's not sure which--when she suddenly takes a step back and grins at him.

"But..." She points out. "...we do have a job to do. And there's no telling what sort of trouble the others could get into. So, let's try to enjoy it while we're here."

Leonard rolls his eyes and sighs, straightening from his lean. "True enough," he allows. "Carry on, Captain."

It's a lovely summer day, and the festival is more interesting than she'd thought it would be—and Leonard actually twines his fingers with hers, commenting that a couple out in public at such a thing draws less attention that two random people alone. Sara's not entirely convinced of this, but given that it's a spontaneous, public physical gesture from a man who admits he's not good at those, she doesn't protest. She just takes a deep breath, resolves to leave some of her worries behind her this day, and maybe even enjoy it.

After a moment or two, though, she glances at him. "Attention, hmm?"

She gets merely a raised eyebrow in return.

"Len, I don't care how historically accurate it might be. No picking pockets."

That gets a noise that might be annoyance, might be amusement. Probably both. He waves his free hand at the scene around them. "I haven't lowered myself to target this sort of crowd in years," he tells her loftily. "These are just ordinary people trying to escape the real world for a bit. I have standards."

"Mmhmm. And they probably don't enough cash to be worth your while."

"That too."

For all their banter, she's been keeping an eye and an ear out for any unusual activity, and raised voices in a nearby shop catch her attention as they pass. She feels Leonard tense, but the tone doesn't seem to be the sort that means real trouble and...ooooh, handmade bows!

"I've got this," she informs him, squeezing his fingers before dropping his hand and heading toward the shop, hearing a quiet laugh as she goes.

The voice was no more than a tipsy patron wanting to try out the merchandise, but Sara winds up inspecting things anyway—for the sake of thoroughness, she tells herself. She gets into an involved discussion with the proprietor, who's thrilled to be talking to another skilled archer, tries a few things out, and thinks about commissioning a new longbow for herself (and buying a child's miniature bow as well, because one of these days Oliver and Felicity are going to get their heads out of their respective asses and give her an honorary niece or nephew).

When she emerges, she casts about for a moment before seeing Leonard inspecting another stand, from which she gets an impression of color and movement in the wind. Curious, she approaches, watching him glance over his shoulder before he turns and quickly sets something on her hair.

She catches a quick glance in a nearby mirror as she puts a hand to it. A flower crown: Sunflowers, with yellow ribbons.

It's pretty and impractical and frivolous, and it actually startles a laugh out of her. She sees Leonard smile as she does.

"It suits you," he drawls, lips twitching. "Couldn't resist."

"Oh?" She straightens it, smiling, tying the ribbons as she peeks in the mirror again. "Then why don't you have one?"

"I don't think that's really my style..."

But even as he speaks, she's scanning the row of crowns and selecting one with deep blue flowers, then going up on her toes and depositing it on his head. It slips to the side, lending him a fairly rakish air. A rakish, unexpectedly appealing air. Sara bites her lip, studying him as he rolls his eyes.

"I think that's really pretty hot," she whispers to him, leaning close and smirking.

"Oh, yeah?" He moves closer, too, leaning down until their noses bump, and she goes up on her toes just enough to kiss him, a kiss that heats up quickly and draws wolf whistles from a few onlookers (as well as a few slightly off-color comments). After a minute, though, Sara breaks the kiss off with a sigh.

"We can't keep getting distracted like this," she murmurs against his lips. "We need to hunt for an anachronism."

"Damnit."

"But first, you're buying that crown."

They keep looking, but while it's easy to find an anachronism like, say, a dinosaur in the middle of Los Angeles (or a long-lost crook in the middle of said dinosaurs), it's not so easy to find an unidentified object out of time at a Renaissance festival.

Leonard points out that it doesn't have to be something from that era—there's nothing saying it couldn't be something from the future, like the actual lightsaber they'd had to remove from 1977 (resulting in a very disappointed 10-year-old boy and a team of Legends squabbling over who got to play with it) or something from any other historical period, like the real, live dodo they'd had to corral at the Bronx Zoo in 2020.

But Sara's pretty convinced, at this point, that the universe has a warped sense of humor.

They keep looking.

Of course, "looking" means walking past all those intriguing artisans...and food that didn't come from a replicator. And, as noted, it's a lovely day, and she's with Len, and no one's asking her, at the moment, to be the captain and make tough decisions. She's given the team plenty of time with which to do its job.

It is, Sara decides, OK to enjoy herself.

After a just slightly embarrassing misstep involving a guest's costume that seemed a little too authentic, they decide to take a break and get a cup of mead each, listening to a set by the group of Celtic musicians playing nearby. Sara tells Leonard about Guinevere, which makes him smirk, and he tells her a story about taking a very young Lisa to a tiny Ren fest event in Central City, which makes her laugh.

They're the first ones back to the rendezvous point, but not by much. It's only a few minutes before Mick and Amaya come wandering down one of the paths—not hand in hand, but so close they might as well be.

(Leonard nudges Sara; he'd called his friend's growing feelings for the other woman nearly since the first day he'd been back. Sara, at this point, agrees.)

Amaya is carrying a new wooden practice sword...and wearing a crown of bright tiger lilies on her dark hair. She laughs when she sees Sara and Leonard, putting a hand to her hair, and turns to smile at Mick.

Mick has a pewter beer mug in one hand and a turkey leg in the other...and a crown of fiery red flowers. He takes one look at Len and bellows in laughter, raising his mug in a toast.

"There's a glass-blower," he informs his friend, as Sara borrows Amaya's sword and makes a few experimental passes in the background. "I want to learn how to do that."

"I don't think that would work well on the ship," Leonard tells him in a long-suffering tone. "Gideon would probably have issues with it."

"What sort of issues will I, allegedly, have?"

Gideon, it seems, has thoroughly enjoyed this excursion in human guise after all. She's carrying a bundle of fresh lavender as she and Jax join them, and keeps lifting the bundle to her nose and smiling.

"I never realized that scent is a very underestimated human sense," she says happily. "I also purchased some soap. I never realized how very...utilitarian...the sort we keep on the ship is. This is so much nicer." She smiles at them. "And I really liked the shows here, although I did not understand all the jokes, and Mr. Jackson would not explain them all."

Jax groans, shaking his head. "And that's not going to change, G. Consult the databanks when we get back. Not going there."

"You didn't see anything either, then?" Sara asks Gideon, who shakes her head. "Damn. I wonder..."

With excellent timing, for the first time that day, her comm crackles to life

"Sara?" Ray's voice is a bit anxious on the other end. "We've found our anachronism."

The captain takes a step back, putting a hand to her ear. "Can you isolate it? Or just take it back to the ship?"

"Well. No. Sara, you need to come down to the jousting field."

"Apparently, they were expecting a sub for someone who's sick. This guy was in the field when they got here this morning and they figured he was the sub. We got our first clue when we heard them talking about how he wouldn't break character at all and how he kept ranting about 'witchcraft.' So I checked." Ray holds up the temporal energy detector. "It's him. And the horse."

Sara puts her hands on her hips and sighs, staring at the armored figure that's pacing back and forth at the far end of the field set up for jousting events on the grounds. Even from here, the man looks profoundly uneasy, glancing back and forth over his shoulders, and it's probably only the utter strangeness of this age in which he finds himself that's kept him in the scant familiarity of the field with its standards and viewing area.

"When's the next joust?" she asks. "We need to get him out of here before that, or someone's going to get hurt."

"About an hour," Nate tells her. "We, ah, already took the liberty of getting the three performers out of there." He shrugs. "Had to use the tranquilizers on them, but they're OK. We left them in one of the horse trailers, out of sight, since the horses are already out here."

The two Percherons and two Clydesdales are all gathered at the other far end of the field, and Sara wonders if it's her imagination that they keep looking over their own shoulders at their out-of-time counterpart. The other horse is several hands bigger and looks just as uneasy as its rider.

"I can talk to the horse," Amaya offers. "Animals often have more sense than people. If I can convince it that following us to the ship will lead to it getting home, it will go."

"Then we just have to convince Mr. Tall, Shiny, and Anachronistic over there to go for it, too." Leonard sighs. "Trank him too?"

"Yeah, but we have to get in a clear shot." Sara smiles. "Well, I've fought people in armor before. Jax, Gideon," she turns to the other two, who are conducting a low-voiced conversation, "please go back to the Waverider and get a space ready for our guest. Guests. Gideon, if you could work on pinpointing exactly where and when they come from, please?"

Jax looks relieved; Gideon, disappointed. But they both head for the exit and the Waverider, which is parked in a fallow field not too far away.

"Amaya, with me. Let's go get our guests moving." At the other woman's nod, she turns to Leonard, handing him the bag with the small bow in it, which he accepts without comment. "See if you guys can figure out a way to keep the absence of a joust from causing too many problems. And try to keep them out of trouble," she says in a low tone, motioning to Mick, who is leaning against a tree drinking his beer, flower crown askew, and Ray and Nate, who are squabbling about the authenticity of the joust and just who might be remembered more fondly in Camelot.

"Must I?" But for all the put-upon drawl, he nods, eyes serious. "Good luck."

It's easier than Sara had expected, to be honest, to lure their anachronism on the hoof out of the joust area and into an area out of sight behind the fair buildings. Amaya, invoking her amulet, quickly convinces the big horse to go where she tells him, and the knight, cursing—at least she's pretty sure it's cursing, it sure as hell sounds like it—follows.

When he sees his steed approaching two women in trousers—with flowers in their hair, no less—he stops dead in his tracks and shouts another epithet. It doesn't take a background in earlier forms of English to recognize this one.

Oh, well. It's not the first time she's been taken for a witch.

He's big, but he's not used to finesse. Sara ducks under his upraised arm and, with her bo, deals him a blow to his helmeted head just so, sending the helmet flying. Then she plunges the trank into his exposed neck…and dances out of the way as many pounds of knight and armor hit the ground hard at her feet.

Amaya, grinning, applauds. The horse snorts. Sara sketches a bow—she supposes it should probably be a curtsy—and shakes her head.

"So, will your friend there help us get him back to the ship?" she asks.

The horse is more than willing, when Amaya asks. He even obligingly lies down so Amaya and Sara can drape his unconscious master over his back, then plods carefully back to the ship with them. Sara's pretty sure the only reason he doesn't balk at going on board is Amaya's presence, but they leave him munching feed in an improvised stall in a cargo bay, the knight still out cold in the brig.

Then they go back to retrieve the boys.

Sara, frowning, taps her comm as they enter the gates, but there's no response, not even from Len. She glances at Amaya, who tries her own with the same lack of response.

"What do you think?" the other woman asks her with some amusement. "The tavern?"

Sara nibbles her bottom lip for a moment, then shrugs. "Worth a try," she says. "And if they're not there, we can get a drink."

They start in that general direction, although Sara turns as she walks to admire the low-cut dress, with tightly fit bodice, worn by a flower-seller who passes them with a saucy wink. (And the flower-seller too, to be honest; she's in a relationship, not dead.)

"I wonder," she muses, "how much those bodices cost."

Amaya chuckles. "Leonard would probably like that," she notes slyly, grinning at her friend.

"Yeah, well, so would Mick." Sara smirks as a faint hint of color rises in the other woman's cheeks. "What? You thought we wouldn't notice? Since when has that been a thing?"

Amaya's quiet a moment, and Sara lets her have her thoughts. Finally, she sighs.

"It's not, not really," she says. "But…it could be. If we let it." She gives Sara a helpless look. "It seems a bit…impolite, with Nate on the ship and all, but…"

"Nate's a grown-ass man," Sara tells her firmly. "And you pretty much broke it off mutually. He'll live." She stops in her tracks, turning to put her hands on Amaya's shoulders. "Take it from me. If you want him, don't wait. Do something about it. You never know what might happen if you don't." She laughs a little as she turns to walk again. "Although, sacrificing yourself to restore free will, getting blasted through time and space, and landing in a midst of a warped alternate Los Angeles with dinosaurs isn't likely to happen again. Leonard just had to be original." A faint cheer rises not too far in the distance, and she stops again, frowning.

"Do you hear that?"

"I do. But…" The two women look at each other suddenly as another cheer—and gale of laughter—rises. Putting pieces together, Sara suddenly curses, breaking into a run, and Amaya follows her.

They make their way to the jousting field, slipping through the crowd with many a "pardon me" and "excuse me" (at least on Amaya's part), coming to a halt near the fence just as one of the four armored knights on the field tackles another, sending a spray of mud in all directions.

Sara studies the scene with disbelief, noting the array of broken lances propped up near the fence and the whispering going on amongst the queen and court in their viewing stand. No one seems to want to confront the out-of-character knights, though, and the crowd is eating it up.

"How the hell did they manage this without killing themselves?" Amaya wonders aloud, staring at the lances and then back at the field. One "knight," the biggest, waves cheerfully to her before one of the ones on the ground in the melee grabs his foot and yanks it out from under him. Another, the cleanest one of the lot, steps back fastidiously and lifts his head to regard the women.

After a moment, he heads toward the fence.

Amaya giggles as Sara shakes her head and moves toward him as well. She can't help being amused as he actually goes to one knee, reaching through the fence to take her hand (which she allows, after a moment's consideration) and raise it to his lips.

She sees a sparkle of blue eyes though the visor just as he glances up at her and the crowd goes "Awwww!"

"You idiot!" she hisses, trying to keep a straight face. "What the hell do you four think you're doing!?"

"You said to keep an eye on them." A tilt of the head. "And Raymond insisted that we had to do something, that people came here to see a joust, and Nate and even Mick were all in. I figured it was better to stick with them."

"And you saw an opportunity to knock Ray off a horse into the mud."

"And that," he allows. "Fringe benefit."

While he's been distracted, though, the other have struggled to their feet, and Len's only warning is when Sara suddenly retrieves her hand and takes a hasty step back. His eyes widen in betrayal right as Mick reaches him, throwing an arm around his waist and slinging him to the ground before slipping and landing next to him with a splash. Nate and Ray, running up, promptly dogpile on, and Sara gives in, laughing so hard she cries as Amaya joins her and the crowd roars behind them.

Under the cover of the eager crowd, the six manage to slip out of the joust area and rush for a break in the fence that Amaya had found earlier, heading back to the Waverider. Gideon, still possessive of her "metal body," scolds them soundly for tracking mud in to the ship and sends them right to the showers.

Once the four wayward "knights" have cleaned and repaired their armor to better than its original state (which some help from the fabrication room), they return it to the festival grounds under cover of darkness, leaving it piled carefully in the viewing stand with a cheerful thank-you note written by Ray. Then the ship departs for the temporal zone, heading for 1585 to take their temporary guests home.

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow!" Nate winces as he applies disinfectant to a gash over his left eyebrow. He glowers at Ray, who's bandaging a right wrist strained when he'd yanked Mick into the mud. "You need to learn how to aim!"

"You need to learn how to duck!" the other man says indignantly. "I've done this before…"

Mick laughs at them as they continue to squabble. "You both," he informs them, "are getting better at fighting dirty. But not quite good enough." Winking at Len and Sara, he departs the medbay, whistling to himself, as Sara shakes her head.

Gideon, still snippy at the mud and being forced to leave the festival earlier than she would have liked, has refused to enable the medbay to treat injuries that are an annoyance at best. Miraculously, Ray's strained wrist had been the worst of the lot, although all will be moving a bit gingerly for a while.

Leaving Ray and Nate behind to argue about who'd "won" their little free-for-all, Sara grabs Len's hand and tugs him gently out of the room, leading him down the hall to her room. He goes willingly enough, wincing just a little as bruised ribs shift against their wrapping.

Once there, Sara takes a seat on her bed, smiling briefly at the two flower crowns now sitting on the desk.

"I still haven't forgiven you for failing to be the voice of reason," she tells him, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice as he leans against the bed next to her.

"Well," Leonard drawls, meeting her eyes with that look of his, "if it makes you feel better, I'm still paying for it."

"Hmm." She leans closer herself, smiles at the flicker in his expression. "How so?"

"Still getting mud out of places mud has absolutely no right to be." An expression of distaste crosses his face momentarily before he smirks at her again. "I think I need to shower for a month."

"Want some company?" Amaya may never take her advice, but Sara figures it's high time she follows through with it herself. She smiles again as Leonard lifts both eyebrows, looking briefly surprised before she moves just a bit closer and kisses him, correcting the awkward angle as she slides down from her perch and moves into his arms.

After a long, heated moment, Len breaks it off and looks down at her, eyes dark and expression hungry…and just a little hesitant.

"Do you," he asks carefully, "have time?"

There's really only one good answer to that. Sara gives it, winding both hands in the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer, kissing him again and harder, their bodies pressing against each other in a way that makes her response perfectly clear without any words at all.

When she finally pulls away, she doesn't go far, just far enough to look in his eyes and whisper.

"We can," she tells him quietly, "make time."

And so they do.

[aelaer]

9, 35, 44 for the ask game?

Answers to this ask game from a while ago.

9 - Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. Oh this is harder, cuz it depends on if you mean fandom as MCU fandom, or Stephen Strange writers. Most who write Stephen are IronStrange writers, but I think they get a lot more ability to get traffic as it's easier to search for the ship than the character (worst part of AO3 is lack of main character feature). ... I'm avoiding the question. Let me look at my bookmarks, and I won't be tagging any IronStrange writers for the above mentioned reasoning (though there are certainly some underrated ones, I imagine). Keshwyn, anachronism, dragonnan. Solid writers (slower like I can be, so it's hard to build an audience), good Stephens, not a bucket-ton of kudos/reviews but their fics are well worth reading. And I'm gonna mention AuroraWest as well because while I don't read a lot of her works (I'm not much of an E fic reader and there's a lot of E fics XD), I'm bloody impressed by her writing speed and dedication to her craft and ship of choice, and her Stephen's a bit different than a lot of other interpretations I read, but still feels in-character. So it's like, a nice change of pace. And for the amount she writes, if it was IronStrange, she'd have probably 5-10 times the amount of kudos. So if you like FrostStrange (both E and not, hah) she's worth checking out.

35 - How much has writing fic changed your life? Uh honestly, not as much as going into art did :P I think my writing skills for things like in school and work helped improve due to writing fic in my earlier years, and I have met a couple fanfic writers in the Tolkien fandom IRL, but otherwise it's a fairly non-impactful hobby. Made some lovely friends over the years but I haven't met most of them.

44. Rant about something writing related. Some of the American punctuation rules are really fucking stupid. For instance, when you have a word in quotes at the end of a sentence (non dialogue), the period *always* goes inside the quote. Like if I say, The word "dandy" is considered to some "archaic." that is the correct way to write it. And that's fucking dumb and I hate it. The period should be outside IMO (and I think in Brit English it may be).

I also hate how the Oxford dictionary is adding some new definitions to words in the dictionary because people are too dumb to learn the correct way. Like making "irregardless" a word. Language is living, blah blah blah, that's a good argument for including "yeet" and new slang into the dictionary, but not because people can't be bothered to learn their errors.

I also wish that the m dash was on your standard English keyboard. Thank goodness for Doc's automatic replacement function, but it'd be nice.

[justmilah-archive]

Anachronism | Millian Fic

This was supposed to be something else. It had started out okay, everything was fine, and then at the end of it Milah refused to play nice with others. At the end she let me know very emphatically that she was going to do the thing. I tried to have her not do the thing, but her response was: I’m dead, I can do what I want.

(I told @unordinary-modern-princess I wanted to do this thing, and after I described a little bit of it she went @_@ do the thing. She is an evil, evil enabler ♥)

(Partly a season two rewrite with cursed!Milah because I wrote a crack verse that wasn’t really crack. Not because I want this to have happened instead, but because I’m greedy and want it also. That’s what AUs are for, huzzah!)

Title: Anachronism Rating: T Summary:  She was an anachronism, an errant bit of temporal detritus. 

'He is highly unpredictable. I get the feeling...you might come in handy if he tries to cross me.'

'I hardly know who this Hook is.' She thought she might look small, shivering on the cold stone slab and covering herself with her arms and legs to keep what little warmth she could trapped against her naked skin. She certainly felt small, struggling for breath and struggling against the pounding of a heart she had believed to have been torn away.

The Evil Queen shrugged and held up a long lock tied at the end. The ribbon was worn with age but the hair still gleamed even in the dim light. 'Apparently he knows you. Very well by the looks of it. Otherwise, why bother preserving this with an enchantment?'

---

Evelyn prefered the night shift. It was more quiet than days in relative terms and the family members who were there were usually tucked in cramped chairs trying their best to sleep or, at the very least, pretending to avoid worrying themselves insane. It made it easier to do her job, a profession she found more suiting in a purgatory of ironies, and it made it easier to avoid the troublesome nuisances the town's heroes and villains continually found themselves getting into.

Before the curse broke the rooms were usually empty save for the need for stitches or other such minor ailments with the odd exception here and there. After, the small rooms with beeping machines were used more often. It was one of the downfalls of a clock that moved again.

When she went to the nurse's station she was surprised to see her name wasn't on the board. She had the date right, she knew. Yesterday had been her night off, her time spent between reading a book, cleaning her house, and wallowing in the recent reminder how her curse had begun when for everyone else it had been lifted. Another downfall of a ticking clock.

"Johnson." She turned to glare at the head nurse. The older woman held up her hands. "You've been pulled from the roster for the next couple days. Dr. Whale wants to see you."

"Whale?" Aside from the comments he made to her, along with every female in ten feet of his person, she hadn't even known the doctor was aware of her by name. With a sharp sigh and a roll of her eyes she pushed off the counter. "Thank you, Miranda."

"Remember your pepper spray."

It wasn't uncommon to work in areas outside of one's expertise in a hospital of this size. Or perhaps it was just the town that made it that way. Vague schooling she had never received told her this was unique. Still, barring emergencies, there was usually a warning.

Maybe that's why she just barged into his office, hands on her hips with an impatient glower. His responding grin when he looked up from his paperwork had her eyes narrow even further.

"Evelyn! May I call you Evelyn?"

"No."

"I must say, you've become an alluring shade of feisty since this whole mess of a curse lifted." He leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. "You're probably wondering why you were pulled away from your adoring fans in pediatrics."

"The question had crossed my mind." Her arms folded over her chest and her eyes narrowed. "You need to readjust your definitions of certain words, Doctor. What you call feisty, some would see it as pissed off."

"Either way, the look suits you." He studied her for a moment more. "It seems that a higher power than even myself has requested your tender mercies for a select patient." His eyebrows raised. "You've heard what happened to the Frenche woman?"

"It's a small hospital. I think even the patients know."

"Well. Apparently, her assailant has been...uncooperative at best. He broke out of his handcuffs."

"That's not exactly difficult to do."

His eyebrows rose and for a moment his gaze slid over her in contemplation before he continued. "One handed, drugged, and after getting hit by a car?"

Evelyn wanted to say she could still do it but she didn't quite want to test out those circumstances. "Alright, I'm not going to say it's impossible, but I will admit it seems unlikely."

The doctor shrugged. "Yeah, well." He tossed a file on his desk. "This is his. The...Scooby Gang? Savior Scouts? Whatever they're going by. Do they even have a catchy team name? They should." She cleared her throat. "Anyway. They're keeping him tucked away, but that's hard to do if he gets out."

She picked up the file. Another John Doe. The file was vague but the medical jargon let her know what she needed to, the state of him, and the apparent elevated doses of tranquilizers needed. "You weren't kidding about the one hand." She looked up. "Why couldn't the Other Johnson take care of this?"

"At first that's who I thought she meant. He strikes more of an imposing figure. But, no, intimidating as he appears, he's an orderly. Besides, didn't you almost get arrested at the Rabbit Hole a few weeks ago? Something about introducing your fist to his face for some remark?"

She bristled at the memory. "Just because we have the same name doesn't mean we have to share...other things." Normally the much larger man was more or less a sweet guy. Add in one too many shots of tequila and he tended to get handsy. "So. I doubt my ability to lay out a man near twice my size has anything to do with this patient. So what does it have to do with me?"

"It seems our benevolent Madam Mayor thinks it might have a lot to do with you. She said, in that annoying and cryptic one liner she always manages at the end, that 'This is the reason I brought her back.' I don't know what that means, but I figured you might."

She openly gaped for a moment. "For him? Are you telling me this is Hook?"

"I'm gonna go with yes on that one. If the actual hook he arrived with wasn't a dead giveaway, the lovely Ms. Swan calling him that was a subtle clue."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll do it." She liked to pretend she had choices in matters sometimes. "I assume you want me to start now?"

"Well, unless you had other ideas…"

"Tell you what. You do you, I do me, and that way at least I know it'll be done right."

"Well, then. That was perhaps the nicest 'fuck off' I've gotten in awhile. Enjoy your shift, Nurse Johnson."

It was probably indicative of just how distracted she was if she could be mistaken for 'nice.' But, despite her best attempts at otherwise, being pulled toward the fray of chaos had been inevitable. "You, too, Dr. Whale."

Being a small hospital, there was barely any time to take guesses. Before she could get too far in her mental investigation with how little she knew, Evelyn was pushing her way into the hospital room before quietly closing the door behind her.

The room was dim, lit only by the machines and the moon filtering in through the window, but she could tell he was awake. That surprised her considering what the charts said they had him on.

She cleared her throat and walked toward him. "I hear you've been making things impossible for my colleagues. If you behave, I'll give you a lollipop." She normally worked with children and it was surprising how many times the incentive of a sweet worked on adults.

She checked the monitors before her patient, setting the file down and going through the motions of making sure lines were hooked up correctly. When she turned her focus on him, he jerked in the bed and her wrist was caught in his hand.

She drew in a sharp breath and, injured patient or no, she drew back her fist back to ward off attack. Then she faltered because she knew those eyes and a large thump resounded in her chest. "Killian."

His eyes narrowed at her as he strained toward her. His sharp gaze was almost accusatory, nearly daring her to do something.

Her legs felt hollow and her arms had that weightless feeling that came from running for too long. For a split moment she forgot her own confusion on whether or not she was really who her mind said she was or just some store-brand knock off, forgot that her restless nights on whether she was just a copy through and through, soul and all, and that was why she refused to even call herself by her old name.

In that instant she wasn't Evelyn or even the Evil Queen's backup plan. She was Milah.

And then the moment was gone and she cleared her throat. She latched onto the professionalism born from false memories and the need to not delve head first into an overdue crisis of identity. It was made all the easier when he was practically trembling with the strain of the awkward position of leaning forward and pulling and tugging at just about every laceration, bruised muscle, and cracked rib along the way.

She placed her hand squarely on his chest with a gentle push, cringing as he winced. "Lay back or you'll just be in here longer."

When he did comply after a stubborn moment his grip on her wrist loosened and his eyes slid away from hers. She could breathe again but she missed that intensity and she could almost feel him drawing into himself.

Milah picked up the file and opened it. It was too dim in the room to see it clearly but what she could reminded her of what she had read. Turning on a light was an option but at this point not necessary. "You aren't due for another dose of your medication for a few hours. I'll see what I can do about getting the tranquilizers lowered."

She closed the file and looked at him. "But if I do that and you try to escape again, I'll just break your legs so the rest of you can heal."

It had been a threat she used to make and it had been out of her mouth before she could even think. By the strangled little broken laugh he made, he recognized it.

It was a habit she had almost forgotten she had to soothe her fingers through his hair. He'd had a penchant for bad days much like herself. While he could handle them, had before she ever met him, quiet touches like this stolen in dark corners and away from curious eyes were her way of letting him know she was there.

He would heal, already was, but it would be easier if he would stop being stubborn. From the firm set of his jaw to the hard set of his drug-glossed eyes he was fighting against it. Only the nearly imperceptible lean into her touch told her maybe he would listen. "It's okay to rest, Killian. Everything's going to be alright."

His answer was  a soft snort.

And it came over her then, that sudden urge to flee. She wanted more than anything to do what she could to just make it better but she wasn't even sure it was really her that either one of them were seeing. "I'll come check on you in a few-- Just-- Here's a button if you need--"

She had stormed away from him more than once but she had never run away. At least it had only been a few feet and through a door.

Milah leaned heavily against the wall just outside his room as she tried to process. Her question had been answered but now so many more were in its place. How could he even be here? She had left him behind centuries ago.

One thing was clear. She, copy or real, was obviously meant to be used as a pawn. Her lip curled at the thought.

But sometimes a pawn was used when it shouldn't have been. The player would move a piece too soon, not thinking ahead, and it would take too long to get things back in their favor. She should have been brought into play after a man who hated magic was brought to town.

She hadn't been. She would have done anything for her son, regardless of how he received her, would have worked just outside the peripheral to do what she could to help him. But right now, all she knew was that Killian was the only person she loved that was still alive. And without the loyalty of motherhood or any ties to a rebirth she never asked for, all that remained was the devotion of a pirate for her captain.

It wasn't just because she loved him. Of all the ways that choices had been taken from her in her life and after, he had given her dozens more to make. And now, even without him realizing it.

Real or not she refused to be a pawn. She was an anachronism, an errant bit of temporal detritus, and she was damn well going to use that to her advantage.

Her sneer turned into a grin, wide and devious and for the first time since her death, full of glee.

---

She was there again.

She had been coming to him ever since they started filling him with whatever drugs it was that sent his mind into a haze and turned his body numb, darting out of his peripheral and offering her silent judgements. He wondered what sort of herbal concoction would do all this and also bring about visions.

This time when he reached for her she did not disappear and her earlier condemnation was replaced by her own surprise.

He knew why she kept coming to him in this room, splayed helpless and weak without even his hook. Despite her gentle hands and soft words now he knew she was really there to remind him of his sins, that he had nearly killed an innocent woman.

Well, the joke was on her. He would rather her be there and hating him than not there at all, even if she was just a product of his own mind.

[anoldwound]

Transatlanticism - Rothstein/Luciano [Boardwalk Empire]

Title: Transatlanticism Characters/Pairings: Rothstein/Luciano, Meyer Lansky Rating: R Word Count: ~3000 Warnings: Strong sexual content, language. Summary: It had been a month since A.R. had set voyage for Scotland – well, four weeks and two days if you wanted to get all technical about it – and Charlie was being driven out of his skull by his... needs. Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, and, more importantly, neither do the actual people, who are not the subjects of this fic, the characters are. Just... just to make that clear. A/N: I probably shouldn't be posting this, but here it is anyway. Deepest apologies for any anachronisms. And also for writing it in the first place. Charlie “Lucky” Luciano had thrown away about a dozen or so pieces of paper in the past twenty minutes. He'd gone through three fountain pens, six stamps and envelopes, and around fifty or so more papers in the past hour. Nothing he was writing was – well, coming out right. Coming out correctly, he thought to himself, and ran his hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat. A.R. made writing letters look so easy; he'd figured it couldn't be too hard to just ask simple questions, like “How's Scotland?”, and “Weather treating you nice?��, and “When are you coming back so we can fuck like jackrabbits again?” It had been a month since A.R. had set voyage for Scotland – well, four weeks and two days if you wanted to get all technical about it – and Charlie was being driven out of his skull by his... needs. Needs that, for the past couple of years, had been filled by one Arnold Rothstein, his mentor and employer. And also, briefly, by a certain burlesque dancer whose name need not be mentioned. Anyway, it had been a whole month, and he had tried and tried again with other broads, but it still just would not work, and it was... frustrating. To say the least. Charlie leaned forward again, his pen scratching the surface of the parchment. A.R. – Greetings from NY. The weather is terrible. I'm sure it is where you are too. I saw in the paper the other day that Glasgow is having one of its worst winters yet. Hope you brought a lot of coats with you. “Hope you brought a lot of coats with you”? What the fuck? This was one of the stupidest letters he'd written yet. He crumpled it up and started over. A.R. – Greetings from NY. I saw something in the paper about Scotland and wondered how you was. No. That sounded too queer. He crossed that out and wrote instead: I saw something in the paper about Scotland and figured I ought to check in. Yeah, much better. He continued – How are you and Carolyn? I'm doing alright. It keeps snowing. It reminds me of that one time last year when we got snowed in and had to come up with other things to do. Charlie smirked at the memory. It was three in the morning, everyone had left, and there was absolutely no way out of the house. It was one of the worst blizzards in years, and the snow pounded against the windows as A.R. lit the fireplace and the two of them fucked right on the carpet. They both had rug burns for a week. Anyways, not much else is going on. Looks like you're not gonna be indited, so everything is going well I guess. Me and Meyer was wondering when you'd be heading back. Unless you're too busy golfing. He crossed out the last sentence. I hope you're enjoying your trip. Charlie paused, gripping the pen tight between his fingers. He bit his lip and hastily scrawled – I miss you. It's boring as hell without you here. I mean, Meyer's my best pal and all, but it's just not the same, you know? For a lot of reasons, some of which you can guess. I visited your house a few times to take care of some business and it was strange not seeing you in the billiards room, bent over the table, gripping your cue stick, shooting the balls clean into the holes. And if you're wondering, still no luck with the broads. He threw his pen down, his heart thumping in his chest. There was no way he could send this, it was too – too – Oh, fucking forget it, you pussy fuck. He kept writing. So as you can see, we are all anxious for you to come back home. Myself especially. Write back if you can. -Charlie Charlie took a deep breath, then quickly – before he lost his nerve – folded the letter, stuck it in the envelope, sealed it, licked the stamp and slapped it on, ran out the door, down the street to the post office, threw the letter into the slot – And immediately wanted to shoot himself in the face. Would you relax?, he told himself, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he scurried back home, his breath misty and snow melting in his shoes. It's not like you got a reason to be shy. Like some idiot schoolgirl who likes her teacher or somethin'. Ain't like he doesn't know, or like we never fucked or anything. You're being stupid. Have a drink and calm down. He shut the door behind him and rubbed his hands together, then loosened his tie and walked towards the bar, where he poured himself a fifth of whiskey. What was done was done. Now he just had to wait. * * * “Charlie, you absolutely, you must see The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” Meyer was saying three weeks later as the two of them rounded the corner. “Eh, I dunno. I'm not much of one for those foreign language flicks,” said Charlie, shaking some snow off of the bottom of his coat as they reached his house. “Neither am I, but I finally saw it at the recommendation of a friend. You know the theater down on Lexington? They're showing it all this week and – Charlie?” Charlie didn't respond. There was an envelope at the door. Its return address was from Scotland. “Is that a letter from A.R.?” Meyer asked as Charlie grabbed it. “Yeah...” he said, staring at his name written neatly on the right-hand side. “Listen, I'll catch up with you later, alright?” “Okay. But don't forget, we got that meeting tomorrow with those fellas.” “Sure, sure,” Charlie said absently, vaguely waving goodbye, not looking up. He felt the envelope between his fingers. Smooth and rough at the same time, somehow. After getting safely nestled inside, and after sitting in his favorite armchair – the velvet one, with the gold edges – he carefully opened the envelope with his letter slicer. Dear Charlie, It's very pleasant to hear from you. I must confess, it's quite lonely here; much lonelier than I had anticipated. You won't be surprised to hear that our weather is just as awful as yours has been. How serendipitous that we are both at the receiving end of snowstorms. I'm not entirely sure when Carolyn (who is well, by the way) and myself  will be returning home, but hopefully it will be before the beginning of February. I very much miss the streets, sounds, and smells of New York. And you, as well. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I can say that we have shared similar thoughts regarding certain blizzards and certain hot evenings spent in the billiards room. While I am sorry that there is no special young lady in your life, perhaps, for the present, you can soothe yourself with the knowledge that as soon as I arrive home, and at your earliest convenience, we will meet, and I will ravage you mercilessly. My bedroom, your bedroom, bent over the poker table, wherever and however you want. Maybe this will bring you pleasure when you are alone in your room and in need of something to stimulate your imagination. I look forward to seeing you again, Charlie. Give my best to Lansky and the rest. Yours, Arnold Rothstein P.S. It's “Meyer and I were wondering”, not “Me and Meyer was wondering”. Of course he had to ruin the mood with a grammar correction, but Charlie smiled lecherously to himself anyway. A.R. – I'm glad to hear you're doing okay. Meyer sends his regards too. (So what if he hadn't even said anything to Meyer yet?) Thanks for the grammar correction. Now, about your proposal vis a vee your return to NY, I definitely hope its soon cause I'm not sure how long that scenario will hold me out.  But I can probably think of some other ones. Like Oh, shit. Now he had to actually think of something. Like Charlie blinked at the blank piece of paper. Shit. How the hell was it that he could walk around thinking about sex for 75% of his day, and now was the time that he would get that – that – whadda they call it – writer's block? Like Maybe he could start off with a previous encounter. Like that time we had a car full of people waiting outside for us, but while they was waiting and waiting, we sucked each other off in the poker room and everyone was getting impatient but that made it better somehow and I accidentally got come all over the Charlie shook his head and crossed it out. Not sexy enough. He held the pen between his lips and thought. When you get back, I want you in the billiards room, with people waiting outside, and I wanna be fucked hard by you, so hard I'll be limping for the rest of the day and I'll feel all raw and filled. And then I'll suck your cock, slow, just how you like it. He was getting a little hard just thinking about it,  and he didn't want to waste it, so he quickly finished with – Let me know when you are getting back for sure. -Charlie * * * It was March, and there was still no sign of A.R. – no more letters, no more nothing. Charlie couldn't help but be disappointed. Whenever he saw a letter in his mailbox his heart would leap, only to quickly become deflated when it was just another electric bill. “What did A.R. say in that letter he sent you ages ago?” Meyer was asking. The two of them were waiting for the car to come around to drop them off somewhere. “Nothin', really. Just that Scotland is alright and he didn't know when he was coming back.” “Christ, it's been, what? Four months now?” “Eighteen weeks, four days, and twelve hours.” Meyer stared at him. Charlie cleared his throat. “So, uh, where was it we're goin', again?” “I got a telegram from A.R.'s lawyer,” Meyer said as the car pulled up in front of them. “Some papers we gotta sign? I dunno, but we're going to the house now.” “Why the house?” Charlie asked. He opened the door and let Meyer climb in first. “Why not the lawyer's office?” “I dunno. I just do what they tell me,” he said, shrugging. Charlie held back a sigh as the car lurched forward onto the cobblestone street. He smoothed out his trousers and tapped his foot, staring out the window at the passing buildings and fashionable young couples. Before long, they had arrived, the doorman taking their coats and leading them up the familiar marble staircase. They were about to pass the billiards room when the doorman suddenly stopped. “Here we are, gentlemen,” he said. “Thanks,” said Charlie gruffly, wondering why the lawyer was meeting them in this room, when he stopped dead in his tracks. A.R. was back. He was chalking the tip of his cue stick, while his lawyer poured himself a drink from the bar. At first he didn't seem to notice them standing there, but their eyes met and A.R. smiled. “Boys!” he exclaimed, his smile turning into a wide grin. “A.R.,” Charlie said, and felt a smirk overtake his face. “Nice to see you again, boss!” Meyer walked up to him and shook his hand. “Why didn't you tell us you got back?” “Oh, I thought I'd surprise the two of you,” he said, not looking away from Charlie. “Everything been okay in my absence?” “Yeah,” said Charlie, unable to keep a bit of sarcasm from creeping into his voice. “It's been terrific.” “Me and Charlie have been making some headway into the liquor business,” Meyer added. “Have you now?” A.R.'s gaze was still locked on Charlie, who squirmed a little at the scrutiny. “Striking out on your own, are you? Good job, boys.” “What – uh, what was it you wanted us to sign?” He broke eye contact with A.R. and looked over at the lawyer, who was leaning casually by the window. “Oh, I was actually mistaken about that. Sorry for the confusion.” The lawyer glanced over at A.R. and swung down the rest of his drink. “Well, I'm off. Important clients and all. Nice catching up with you, Arnold.” “Same.” The door closed slightly in the lawyer's wake, and A.R. strode to the other side of the billiards table, getting ready for a shot. Charlie couldn't resist sneaking a quick peek at A.R.'s ass. “How was Glasgow?” Meyer asked. “It was fine, just fine.” He lightly tapped the ball and a nine ball fell gently into the adjacent hole. “Horrible weather, just like you both warned me. No golfing whatsoever.” “Sorry to hear that,” Charlie said. “Why'd you stay so long, then?” His fingers were curled into a slight fist. “Carolyn was enjoying herself,” he said, walking over to the opposite side. “And I had some business to attend to there, so it wasn't a complete waste of my time.” “Still, though... eighteen weeks...” Charlie felt Meyer give him an odd look. A.R. looked up at him and smiled. “Eighteen weeks, was it? Certainly felt like a lot longer.” He reared back his arm and sunk four balls. “Nice one,” said Meyer. “Meyer...” A.R. stood up and turned to face him. “Could you give us a few minutes?” “Sure, boss.” Meyer glanced at Charlie before leaving, the door clicking shut behind him. The two of them stared at each other in silence for several moments, before A.R. asked, “How have you been, Charlie?” “Is there a reason you never wrote me back or what?” Charlie said before he could stop himself. This seemed to give him pause. “I didn't see any reason to. All that there was to be said... had been said.” Charlie snorted and leaned against the doorframe. “Charlie.” “What?” “Lock the door.” The air seemed to become heavy around them, and he felt his back straighten. “Come again?” “Lock. The. Door.” He felt everything shift, and an intense tingling of anticipation was prickling across his skin as he turned the key. A.R. placed the cue stick carefully back on the rack. “You said, Charlie, in your letter, you wanted me to – what was it – 'fuck you so hard you'd be limping the rest of the day'?” He undid his bow tie. “A vulgar way to put it, to be sure. But the message was loud – ” he unbuttoned his vest “ – and clear.” Charlie was practically bursting with want as A.R. began taking off his collar. He couldn't move from where he was standing. “I know we have our unspoken rules, Charlie,” he said, walking over to him. “I hope you don't mind if I break a few of them.” Before Charlie knew what was happening, A.R. was pressed against him – kissing him – he had never – it wasn't part of – but Charlie soon forgot all of this as their tongues intertwined, A.R.'s hands stroking his neck, his trousers tight and he could feel A.R.'s hardness too, breathing and sweating and he had never kissed another guy before, it was bizarre, but hell, they had done everything else and holy shit it felt so good, so good, and A.R. was unbuckling both of their belts and shoving him against the billiards table, his mouth practically swallowing Charlie's whole. Charlie gasped for air as his pants were yanked down, and A.R. grabbed his cock, whispering in his ear, “How badly did you want this while I was gone?”, his breath hot, making Charlie shiver. “You know how bad I wanted it,” he murmured, and that seemed to turn A.R. on even more as he yanked on his hair and kissed him again. Charlie gripped onto A.R.'s back as they ground against each other, until finally A.R. turned him around and slammed him against the table. Charlie groaned as his trousers were pulled down unceremoniously around his ankles. He felt A.R.'s lips against his neck as his cock twitched and his undergarments pulled down as well. Every inch of him felt the need so badly, so badly, and he almost let out a shout as A.R.'s finger entered him. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Hello? Are you guys still in there?” he heard Meyer's voice say from outside. “Son of a bitch,” said Charlie. “Yes, we're still in here, Meyer,” A.R. called. “I swear to God, if he tries to get in here – ” “Calm down,” A.R. whispered, stroking his back. “It's just... I have places to be...” Meyer was saying. “Just GO!” Charlie yelled. “For Christ's sake!” “Charlie...” A.R. said. “I would, but how are you getting home?” “Just – don't worry 'bout it, okay? Just go!” “But – ” “JUST. GO.” “Okay, fine.” There was some muttering outside, but he could hear footsteps walking away, which made him sigh in relief. “Biggest cockblock in the world, that guy,” he said. A.R. chuckled. “He's gone. It's fine.” They continued as though they had not been interrupted, Charlie hard as a fucking rock (oh, it was so good, to feel this way again) as A.R. thrust against him, inside him, rapid movements and shaking and everything was just fucking perfect and fucking and fucking and fucking until A.R. came and Charlie came and it was all over. They both stood there for a little while, breathing heavily, cold sweat and Charlie's hands and muscles were shaking. They stared at each other, eyes heavy with lust. “You don't need to put your mouth on me,” A.R. finally said. “That was good enough for now.” He paused. “But I do expect you to, next time.” Charlie grinned. “Good to have you back, boss.” “It's good to be back, Charlie.”