#this has been a wip for far too long - i had so many plans for this build

[moonwoodhollow]

ts4 wip: shifting back into Mid-Century-Modern mode

[keepswingin]

⸻ LEFT BEHIND ⸻

pairing: caleb x reader

genre: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, canon compliant, caleb character study

w/c: 6.7k

summary: finally catching up, ever decides to take what they believe has always been theirs. caleb refuses to lose her again.

cw: kidnapping, scenes of violence, character death (not of main characters), mentions of past trauma, implied torture, implied medical experimentation

a/n: this has been finished for so long i was just stalling because i didn't feel like editing but then i figured i should post it so that it doesn't end up in the rotting wip pile xD hopefully everyone enjoys!

Ever takes you.

It's less climatic than it should be - an off night, a thundering sky, a wrong turn down an alley you've taken too many times before. Easy to track down, really, because you've gotten comfortable. It's a rule you know above all else, to always be on guard, to never stay in one spot for too long, especially now, when you're poking around in places you shouldn't be, when Caleb is the one you can't quite let go. 

But a storm swirls overhead and you turn down that same alley. You watch your shadow flicker over the bricks, listen to the sound of your footsteps, one after another. You think about how it's odd that the association has been so quiet lately, when it very much seems like it shouldn't be, with everything happening at once, with everyone trying to get their hands on aether cores no one will ever truly understand. 

Lightning flashes, illuminating the world around you. 

You blink. Glance up at the sky. Watch grey clouds move fast above you, promising rain. When you look in front of you, you notice more shadows than before, growing closer. Thick coats bundled around black face masks and leather gloves, eyes that shine under the quickly fading sun. More than you can handle, even as your hand inches towards your waistband, where your gun awaits. 

Panic doesn't push you into action quite yet, but there is a part of you that thinks you should bring your hunter watch to life, that if you ping your location someone would probably be there in minutes to investigate. But was it worth the risk of putting someone else in danger? Was it worth - 

Something sharp pricks at your neck and all at once your world tilts on its side. 

A strangled sound escapes you as you stumble forward a step, and then fall, unable to hold yourself upright. Your knees scrape the pavement as your vision wavers and then wanes, your heartbeat thudding hard in your ears. The figures in front of you grow closer and then blur into a mass of darkness and you have no choice but to close your eyes, unable to make a sound, unable to move. 

A cold hand roughly grabs your chin and turns your head, holding it for a long moment before letting go. Thunder rumbles from above. You can barely think. "We've been looking for you," a voice whispers, close to your ear. "Finally found you." 

As everything around you finally begins to fade, you can't help but think about Caleb. 

You wonder if he'll miss you like you'll miss him.

x

Caleb sits in the living room of a house that feels far too big and watches as rain slides down the window. His phone sits abandoned on the coffee table in front of him, silent and dark. He wonders if she had forgotten they had dinner plans, but there's a part of him that thinks she would never forget. 

The storm is bad. The wind is dangerous, and the lightning is deadly. Storms are always worse in Skyhaven, but it's something he's learned to weather, though it was easier still when she was by his side, or tucked under the blankets in a bed that was no longer his. He reaches for the phone and brings up his messages with her, staring at the unread words. 

He types out another message. Clicks send. 

The storm rages on.

x

"Something wrong, Colonel?" 

Caleb startles, looking away from the window. He doesn't remember the last time he hadn't heard someone approach, and the thought itself isn't something he wants to dwell on. He straightens and turns towards the voice, facing an older man with various medals decorating the crest of his suit. Caleb pauses for a moment and stares, brows knitting together. He doesn't remember his man's face, doesn't remember ever seeing him before. It wasn't odd for Ever to throw in new recruits when they felt like it, but he could usually pick them out of a crowd like the sore thumbs they were. Whenever they dared to add researchers to the mix, or people who had been around since Ever's start, Caleb was usually able to pick them out too. 

This man...this man is an oddity. 

"Did you need something?" Caleb asks, voice firm, eyes giving a quick scan to the rest of the room. It's only the two of them, the rest of the control room empty. Today's a training day for most of the Fleet. He doesn't usually need to be here for days like this one, but he didn't have anywhere else to go. 

He had called her earlier. He had called her last night. He had sent more texts than he would like to admit, and still, there was nothing but silence in return. Paranoia was starting to creep in from the edges of his mind. He was minutes away from making his way over to her apartment. 

The older man doesn't bother to stand at attention. It bothers Caleb, makes him think of the man more as an insurgent than a fellow comrade. If he was from Ever, he must've been a newer model, one that didn't have to go through the same rigorous training as the rest. "No," the man drawls, eyes flickering up to Caleb's face. "Just checking in with you, sir."

Caleb bristles and turns back around. "Don't bother me with such trivial matters again." There's another storm brewing on the horizon. It's been days. He doesn't know how much longer he can wait. Anxiety curls at his insides like a snake around his ribcage. What if she's hurt? What if he's failing her by waiting?

"As you wish, Colonel," the man replies, eerily even. 

When Caleb doesn't hear him move, he uses his Evol to throw the door open. Wood splitters as the handle pushes through the wall. He hopes the man flinches. A few seconds later, he listens to the man's fading footsteps. 

Alone again, Caleb releases a shaky exhale. One hand comes up and runs through his hair. 

What if it was his fault she was missing?

x

x

x

x

Caleb stands in the middle of her apartment and looks around at a place stuck in a moment of serenity. 

The door is broken at the hinges and everything is perfectly in place. There are no signs of struggle, no signs that she's been home anytime recently. There is no takeout in the trash, no dishes in the sink, no laundry piled by the washer, no blankets askew on her bed. There is no signs of life, no signs that someone has lived within this apartment, and Caleb feels his shoulders begin to shake, his heart beating faster. 

Nothing is packed away in suitcases. She didn't decide willingly to leave him. But there hasn't been any contact, and his calls go straight to voicemail, and his messages are delivered but unread so someone is looking at her phone, or too sentimental to destroy it. Or maybe that's apart of evidence of her grisly murder and Caleb is already far too late and she's already gone and he's done nothing but waste time because he was trying to better and it didn't get him anywhere - 

Caleb collapses to the floor, chest heaving, vision blurring. He - He needs to calm down. If he doesn't calm down the chip, the chip will make him - he can't forget, not now, not ever, not when he's already wasted so much time. He needs to calm down, he needs...he needs her. He needs her because he doesn't quite have himself anymore. 

His breath catches in his throat. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't just sit here and let the chip - 

Pain in his chest. Pain in his head, pain shooting through an arm far from human.

It hurts. Everything hurts and the world blurs. 

No, he begs, anything but this, anything but now - 

x

Caleb awakens in the middle of the floor of an apartment he doesn't truly remember. 

Slowly, he pulls himself upright, a dull ache deep in his chest, a headache forming in the crevices of his mind. He looks blearily around the room, takes in the furniture, the color palette that isn't as dark and dreary as his own home. There's a stuffed animal from a claw machine sitting between the couch pillows, just out of reach. 

Caleb carefully climbs to his feet and makes his way over to the stuffed animal, picking it up and holding it close. It looks like it's supposed to be a fluffy white dog, but it's missing the right fluff. A stray thought enters his head, that it would look cuter with a colored collar around its neck, and then he freezes. 

I got a collar with a bell. I put it on the cat.

His fingers curl tighter around the plushie.

If I had that kind of bell right now, I should make you wear it, right?

"Fuck," he whispers, bits and pieces coming back to him. It slips through his fingers like sand, even as he desperately tries to hold onto something. He could forget everything else, but he could never forget her. He was...he was wasting time, wasn't he? He was...in her apartment and here for a reason. He needed to - 

He walks towards her bedroom, stuffed dog still clutched in hand and places it carefully on top of her pillows. Then he bends down and reaches under her bed, fingers gazing across the box he's looking for. He tugs it out and pops it open, digging carefully through old and new memories alike. When he reaches the bottom, he finds what he's looking for and pulls it free. 

She would never leave without it. Even if she hated him to the ends of the world, he knows she still wouldn't leave it. It's a small ring fit for a child, crafted out of fraying string and beads. He had given it to her before they were old enough to know what promise rings meant, and he thinks that's what it was always meant to be.

Tucking the ring away and pushing the box back under the bed, next he moves to her closet, picking through the clothes hanging there. Every outfit is in place besides her hunter uniform, and a quick glance at her dresser tells him she was in a hurry to leave last time she was here, makeup sprawled across the desk. 

This...it's a start. He can do something with a start. 

"I'm going to find you," he whispers, a promise to himself and the empty home around him. 

x

x

The Hunters Association is only helpful after he threatens further action through the Fleet. 

He thinks he would feel bad about it any other time but he doesn't, not when it's nearing a week and he still has no trace of her. They offer him everything they know and it gives him her last mission, and her possible last location. Her last mission had something to do with abandoned research labs out on the outskirts of Linkon, though it didn't turn up anything new and she had returned to the base empty handed. 

She was dismissed by six o'clock that night. Security cameras show her walking out the front doors of the association five minutes after. She decides to walk home and takes a left down the street. One of her co-workers tells him that's the path she usually takes. Caleb rewatches the footage three times, trying to find anything abnormal but there's nothing and he is still left with more questions than answers. 

He thanks them for the cooperation and tells them to call him - not the Fleet, him - if they hear anything about her or from her. He feels the distrusting eyes of her Captain burn into his back as he leaves, but he doesn't really care about that either. All he cares about is finding her. 

x

x

He retraces her steps, forwards, backwards, until his feet hurt and his body aches. 

When he finds no evidence the hard way, he returns to the Fleet and checks the cameras. The Fleet has access to nearly all the public cameras in Linkon, though not everyone in the city needs to know that. He's able to find her on one camera after she leaves the association, closer to her apartment, but he loses her when she ducks into an alleyway off the beaten path. 

The cameras on either end of the alley have no footage, disabled from within. 

Caleb digs deeper, searching the access files. If cameras are shut down it's usually for construction or security of a political figure, not for some random hunter choosing to walk down an alley. It's suspicious and makes him uneasy, the further he searches, the less files he finds. It's like the system has been wiped from the inside out. He stares at an empty file screen, where logs of usernames are supposed to be, and finds only his name staring back at him. 

He deletes himself from the system and makes a copy of the footage to a spare flash drive before deleting that too. 

Not for the first time, he wonders if she was taken because of him, because he dragged her too close to the sun. He tried to keep her out of it, tried to make her keep her distance, but she was stubborn and he was helpless to stop her when she made up her mind, unless he took extreme measures. 

Maybe they weren't extreme enough. 

He tucks the flash drive in his pocket and turns to leave, only to be met by the face of the older man from earlier in the week standing in the doorway. He's missing some medals, ones Caleb saw pinned to his suit last time, and his suit isn't as prim and proper as it should be. There's something dark in his eyes that Caleb can see even from across the room.

"Colonel," the man says happily, taking a step forward. "I've been looking for you." 

"Have you?" Caleb asks, crossing his arms. "Because I haven't seen you anywhere."

The man laughs, raspy echoes bouncing off the walls around them. "I think we both know why," he responds, shooting Caleb a crooked smile. "Missions come and go."

He shifts, and his uniform moves with him. Caleb's eyes catch the symbol sitting branded against the cusp of his collarbone. Things begin to fall into place as soon as he starts lining things up. He had tried to protect her and all he did was put her right in the line of fire. There was no telling if she was even still alive if...if they were the ones who took her, finally, after all this time. 

"Were you sent to keep an eye on me?" Caleb asks, and it's hard to keep his voice steady when so many different emotions are shooting through him all at once. It's hard to keep focused when he's worried about her, the chip, the deceiving man in front of him, the organization responsible for plucking him for death and giving him a second chance as something much different. "You've done a shit job," he continues, meeting the man's eyes defiantly. 

"But I've done my job," the man whispers. "She's long gone by now - " 

The man chokes. He reaches up to his throat, scratching his fingernails against his skin desperately. 

Caleb doesn't release him. He only steps forward, and with each step he takes, the harder it is for the man to breathe. "Where. Is. She?" Caleb demands, squeezing tighter and tighter. The man's lips are nearly blue by the time he reaches him, eyes holding a deadly intent. "I have no problem killing you," he spits dangerously. "It's up to you if you want to ever breathe again." 

He watches as the man's widen and a horrible sound escapes him, as if he's trying to speak. Caleb scoffs and releases him, taking pleasure in the way the man's body crumples pathetically to the floor, He struggles to breathe in as much oxygen as his body will allow. Caleb crouches down and waits a moment before using his Evol again, grabbing the man by the chin and jerking his head so that he faces him. 

"Where is she?"

"I - I don't know!" he rasps, still struggling to breathe. "They - They didn't tell me!" 

Caleb chuckles darkly. "Don't lie to me." His Evol tightens. The man cries out in pain. Bloodied marks begin to peel at his chin.

"Wait, wait, wait! I'm - I swear I'm not lying, I'm not lying! They - They sent me here to keep an eye on you, to - to make sure you wouldn't do anything they didn't account for! They were afraid of - " 

"Afraid of what?" he whispers, sick of the man's blubbering already. He tightens his grip even more, sick of the games. He'll kill him even without getting the answers he's looking for, he doesn't mind, not when he has a feeling this man is omitting more than he needs to be, especially with his life on the line. 

The man reaches out and grabs at Caleb's wrist, fingernails digging into the seam of his suit. Caleb goes to shake him off, disgust rolling in his gut, but before he can a strangled sob spilts from the man's battered throat. He pauses, arm hovering in the air. A tear slips from the man's eye. He doubts it's because he's suddenly grown a conscious, especially not if he's part of their - 

"You," he cries, pain straining the tone of his voice. "They're afraid of you." 

Caleb leans back and releases him. 

The man falls to the floor once more, curling around himself, gasping. The noises he makes are unfitting of one from Ever, and he can't help but wonder if they've stopped paying attention to the newer ones because they finally have her. Guilt begins to claw its way up his throat, nearly weighing him down. He tried to protect her, he told them she wasn't worth the time, that he was better, that he would always be better. He tried to stop them, to keep them from ever being able to reach her.

And now they were sending unfinished soldiers out to the frontline. 

Maybe they were right to be scared of him. 

"Did they say anything else?" Caleb's voice is deceptively calm. He returns to his full height and readjusts his glove, straightening out the wrinkles. The man coughs and sniffles, barely turning his head in the other's direction. 

"No, nothing. Nothing, I swear on my life."

Caleb is still and silent for a long moment. "That's not much to swear on." 

The man doesn't have time to react as the bullet is lodged between his eyes, and smoke swirls from the end of Caleb's pistol as he returns it back to his side. He reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against the flash drive, answers just out of reach.

x

It's a bad idea.

A horrible idea, if Caleb stops and actually thinks about it, but it's the best way for him to get answers, even if he has to play dumb to get them. The door ahead of him tugs open, revealing a face he knows all too well. Something close to fear shivers down his spine. 

The Professor stares back at him, eyes crinkling at the corners once he realizes who it is standing in front of him. "Caleb," he says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here at this hour?" Caleb keeps his hands locked behind his back, a picture of posture, even if his insides say otherwise. It takes everything within in to keep a steady, uncaring tone to his voice. 

"I was curious about when the next round of testing was going to start." 

The Professor regards Caleb with a cautious stare, shifting. "Is there a reason why you're so eager to begin?" he asks carefully, eyes flicking across Caleb as though they're trying to find something strange or out of place. 

Caleb plays the part well as he flexes his arm slowly, rolling his wrist. "My arm has been a bit slow on the uptake. I was hoping we could make some adjustments alongside everything else." 

It's the right thing to say. Immediately, Caleb can see the Professor relax, like he's provided a suitable enough reason to be poking around about future Ever projects, especially when this isn't a place Caleb enjoys visiting. The Professor allows his lips to almost twitch into a small smile. 

"Unfortunately, the next round has been momentarily delayed. A few of our scientists have been redirected to a different project." 

"Oh?" Caleb hums, acting clueless. "Did they finally figure out a better resource?" 

There's a gleam in the Professor's eye that Caleb doesn't like. "Something like that. I'll let you know as soon as we're able to begin the next stages. For now, just keep things running smoothly, Caleb." 

Caleb gives a short nod and a quick duck of his head as the Professor bids him goodnight, the door shutting quietly behind him. Caleb can't get out of the place fast enough, heart thumping hard as he makes it across the street and down the first alley he sees. He stops and allows himself to lean his forehead against the cold brick, forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

At the very least, he confirmed what he thought. 

Ever did have her and they were already pushing other projects back because they knew she was the key to the lock that they were looking for. At least the Professor told him what he needed to know, even if he didn't realize it. 

He talked specifically about the scientists that worked with Caleb, which meant he knew which places to check. 

x

Four weeks. 

Four weeks since he's last seen her face, heard her voice, held her close. 

He craved her touch like a man would water in a desert, and he didn't know how to combat that feeling. Instead, he resorts to the one thing he knows he can do. He hits the research labs he knows best, and when those turn up empty, he begins going for the ones Ever tries to hide. When he runs out of those that he knows, he interrogates the next scientist he comes across. 

Blood sticking to his palms, he heads for the next round of labs. 

Night bleeds into the horizon. 

He's so close. He knows he is.

x

He didn't know this lab existed. 

The building is small and tucked behind some other abandoned buildings, nearly trespassing into the N109 Zone, windows broken and brick decaying into dust. It was the last lab on the list and so far Caleb was doubtful there was anything inside besides the hollow remains of what used to be, but he makes his way into the building anyway, using the force of his weight to push through the front door. 

It cracks and falls apart as he steps over the threshold. The room before him is bare and covered in discarded papers, weathered with age, some shredded into tiny pieces. Plaster peels from the walls and there's a hallway tucked behind a fallen bookshelf towards the back of the room that he steps over. 

Following the hallway brings him to a second room, this one smaller than the first. Furniture sits askew, wood splintering and cushions thrown to the corner, ripped in two. Thick layers of dust cover empty picture frames barely hanging onto their hooks. There's no signs of life, no signs of anyone having touched this house in years and Caleb's hopes fall deep into the pit of his stomach. 

Did the scientist lie to him? Broken and bleeding and alie slips from between his split lips?

Anger is a close second to the disappointment, the cocktail of emotions beginning to stir deep within him. He's failed again. He can't do anything worthwhile, he never has, and now she's probably dead and gone and he couldn't even protect her when it mattered the most. What was the point of him coming back if nothing changed? If he was still just as useless as he was all those years ago, ignored and thrown aside as they reached for her every single time - 

Caleb's eyes abruptly catch on the far wall. 

There's dust everywhere. There is not dust on the corner of a larger picture frame that sits awkwardly towards the bottom of the wall, just enough to be out of place. 

He walks over to the frame and stares at it for a long moment, and it's then that he sees the traces of fingerprints, sticking to the remains of the frame. There's a small indent within the wood. 

Ever was smart. Caleb always tried to be smarter.

x

The smell of antiseptic burns his nose the further into the lab he gets, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the empty rooms ahead of him. It's too bright, and the sounds of different machines whirring and clicking sets him on edge. He hasn't seen a single person in this place that grows larger and larger after every step he takes, and yet his heart tells him he's in the right place.

She's here. He knows she's here.

There's tables with restraints in most of the rooms. Equipment, clipboards, computers. Needles awaiting their hosts in one, scalpels and hard cloth in another. He quickens his pace, heart pounding. If he thinks too much about this, about where he is and where he has been, the chip will take control. He can't allow that to happen, not now, and he tries his best to keep his breathing steady as he finally makes it to the end of the hallway, only to be met by an eye reader beside the door. 

It's barely a sound decision to break it, bits of metal and glass shattering to the ground but the door opens as he does, spitting broken error codes in an calm voice as he pushes his way through. Several shocked eyes turn to face him as he sees the massive room before him, wires curling from the ceiling down to troves of different devices, to empty tables awaiting test subjects, to -

To her, lying on a lone table in the middle of the room. 

Caleb's world freezes once he sees her. He thinks his heart stops. 

She's restrained by metal around her wrists, ankles, and forehead, keeping her from looking around. Her chest heaves with frantic breaths and a scientist stands above her with a scalpel in hand, blood dripping from the blade. There's needle marks trailing alongside her neck, cuts across her arm, a gash along the curve of muscle in her leg, poorly healing, wrapped in bruising of purple and yellow. She's still in her hunter outfit, though it barely hangs onto her body, already so malnourished and small and if Caleb didn't know her like another side to his heart, he wouldn't know who he was looking at. 

There's six scientists in room. The one standing above her goes to speak but Caleb throws him back with his Evol before he can get any words out, his back hitting the far wall with a loud crack of bone. He doesn't have a chance to scream but one of the other scientists does, scrambling to run, the others attempting to follow. 

Caleb pulls out his pistol and takes aim, exhaling. 

He blinks away what he thinks might be tears before holding the far door they all run to in place with his Evol, listening to the growing sound of their distraught cries as they look back at him. 

Before everything, before this, maybe he would have felt something. Guilt, horror, disgust. But he is what they all fear, and this is clear in a way it has never been before as he sees the way they pull at the door like they can make it move, like they can change the outcome that's already been foretold. As they look at him like a monster, Caleb knows there was never a chance that he wasn't, not when it came to those he loved. 

He shoots them one by one in quick succession before lowering his gun. Their bodies are piled on top of each other, motionless and silent, a scene out of a horror movie neither of them could ever finish when they were younger.

He pockets his weapon and turns back to where she's been abandoned, running over to her side.

It's worse up close. An Evol suppressor sits locked around her neck, skin underneath rubbed raw from struggling. Her chest is a mess of open wounds, some festering and others still bleeding, her skin mangled and messy. Caleb struggles to keep the chip from taking him away right then and there, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. His eyes drag back up to meet her own, taking in her sunken cheeks, her pained eyes, the small cut below her lip. 

With a shaking hand he reaches down and wipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. She flinches with the motion, even as her eyes stay locked with his, and he freezes, unsure what to do next. He wants nothing more than to hold her and never let go, to take all her pain and make it his, to stitch up the wounds and drag the needle along his own skin instead - anything to make it so that she doesn't look how she does now, like the life's been drained out of her, frail and scared and tiny even though she's always been anything but. 

His lips almost tremble. He tries to say her name, to whisper it like a prayer that was never answered, but he finds that nothing comes out, that he is stuck standing over her with his hands half raised and useless when she needs him most. He couldn't protect her then, so how could he protect her now? Offer her comfort when his touch was something she couldn't even bear, broken and bleeding and all his fault?

He keeps his gaze on her as he uses his Evol to carefully dislodge the restraints before leaning over and removing them one by one. She flinches with every movement, each clatter of the metal as he throws it aside, fingers shaking by the time he reaches the suppressor. He's overly careful to keep space between them as he leans in further, not wanting to box her in,  unable to get a good enough look and wanting to be sure of the angle before he gently pulls it from around her neck, the device beeping as it's deactivated. 

It drops the floor unceremoniously. A part of him wants to use his Evol to snap it to pieces and another part of him wants to rip everything in this lab apart, to take whatever data they've gathered and destroy it once and for all, but no part of him wants to leave her. 

He swallows and inches closer to her, one hand gingerly slipping under the curve of her back. He tries not to react to her flinch, but he's sure his face doesn't hide the emotions he feels well. "You're safe now," he whispers, nearly desperate. "I'm going to help you sit up. One, two - " 

He pulls her up as gently as possible, other hand coming to a rest on the side of her waist, one of the only uninjured parts of her. His touch lingers as she cries out and squeezes her eyes shut from what he's sure is pure agony on her wounds, and wants nothing more than to take the sound away and replace it with something else. 

He knows he should let go of her. He knows he should. But he can't. 

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice as she slowly lifts her hand up and then rests it on his cheek. He grows still, eyes flickering back to her own. A tear slips down her cheek. And then another. "Caleb?" she whispers, and he - he remembers the last time she sounded like this, broken and tiny and crying and nothing but a failed experiment to everyone around them and - and - 

Caleb nearly breaks himself when her other hand grapples for him, fingers tangling around the chain of his necklace. She looks down at the necklace and then back up at him, squeezing the pendant in a tightly closed fist full of new scars, and Caleb can't take it any longer. 

He surges forward, arms wrapping around her, closing the distance between them until they're breathing the same air, feeling the beat of each other's heartbeats. A sob rattles deep in Caleb's chest when she starts to cry, and he squeezes her tighter, her arms sliding around him, his fingers knotting in her hair.

"This is my fault," she whispers unbidden, words muffled into the cusp of his shoulder. Caleb tucks himself closer, pressing soft kisses to the skin he can reach, shaking his head.

"No," Caleb murmurs, voice choking on another sob. "Not your fault." He's barely able to form sentences, let alone words, body shuddering with the force of emotions he struggles to keep under control. "Never your fault." A tear breaks free, slipping against her skin. "I'm sorry." 

She hiccups, sniffles. He thinks maybe it could've been a laugh, if only they were somewhere else. 

"You found me, Caleb," she says. "You found me."

"Always," he breathes, kissing her again. Her fingers dig into the cloth of his jacket, desperate to find skin and hold on tight. Caleb shifts slightly, nearly pulling her off of the table and into his arms but stopping when her breath hitches. Another kiss and he's tugging at her again, waiting until he feels her hold grow tighter before attempting to pick her up, her arms wrapped around him like it's where she's always belonged. He slides a careful hand down her back before settling his hold on her waist, the other under her knees, tight, secure. Safe. "Let's go home," he says, voice nearly catching and breaking. 

He feels her nod against him.

And he finally takes her home. 

x

You find that you like sleeping with the lights on, after. 

You know it's stupid, really, when there's so many worse things than the dark, but it scares you in a way it never did before, fear curling around your insides until it was the only emotion you knew. You hated it, hated feeling so weak, hated feeling so stupid walking over to the light on the far side of the living room and flicking it on like clockwork every night at six o'clock sharp, always before the sun disappeared under the horizon. 

Tonight is the same as any other, your finger pressing against the light switch before you breathe a small sigh of relief and return to the couch, watching idly as the weatherman tells you that it's going to storm all week, another thing you didn't fare too well with anymore. 

It made it hard to be in Skyhaven, the storms. They were so, so loud up there, closer to the clouds. It reminded you of that lab, of the echo every single instrument made, of the way some machines made you scream and others made you beg. It's all just too much and for a long moment, you're back there, and there's thunder outside and you are trapped on a table with a scalpel above you and no way out - 

The front door opens and closes.

Footsteps echo, growing closer and closer to you. You barely notice, trying to bring yourself back from a place you never want to revisit, and then there's a hand sliding across your back, squeezing tightly at your shoulder. Warm breath ghosts across your ear. "Missed you, pipsqueak," Caleb whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek and lingering for a long second before pulling away, ruffling your hair as he goes. "I'll start dinner." 

You wait for his footsteps to fade before turning and watching as he starts opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients, stacking them in a neat pile on the counter, followed by pans and lids. He fills a pot with water and places it on the farthest burner, flicking on the stove. When he turns again, his eyes catch your own and he slows to a stop, watching you. 

He's still in uniform. His hat is pristine and perfectly in place. He's preparing to make you dinner, as though he knows that your head isn't in the right place tonight. He looks at you like he already knows everything you could say. He's hard lines to soft edges that never quite disappeared, and you find yourself moving off the couch and towards him. 

He waits until you're close enough before opening his arms and wrapping you into a hug, reading your mind once more. You exhale and the sound shudders through you. The twisting of your gut and shadows of your mind go with it. 

Caleb presses a kiss to your hair. He waits for you to speak first and for a long moment you simply follow the rise and fall of his chest. Words swell in your chest before they finally decide to spill from you, whispering across the silence between you. 

"I think I love you." 

The water in the pot begins to boil, soft pops echoing from the stove. A soft chuckle rumbles through Caleb's chest. One of his hands intertwines with your own. "Popping the question so soon, pipsqueak?" he jokes quietly, and you can't help but roll your eyes, gently shoving him with your shoulder. He holds onto you tighter in retaliation. 

"I'm serious," you say. 

"So am I," he returns, and when you turn your head to look at him, he's smiling down at you like you're the sun. "I've always wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." A pause. His eyes, staring right through you. "I love you too." 

You feel something inside you start to mend with his words. The sounds of the past are eased away with the sound of his voice, the bitter cold biting at you washed away by warmth. His words settle deep in your chest and easily make a home where you thought only an empty chasm remained.

You close the distance between you, your lips meeting his. He sinks into you, smiling, and you pull him closer, kiss him deeper. You think this is what love must feel like, what it must taste like, what it must look like. You think this is what devotion is, what your hopes and dreams are, what you've been missing for what feels like your entire life.

You think this is home, and that it's never once been a place, because it's always been a person. 

It's always been him.

[chatlote]

A whole year since I started posting TTWHB!! Happy anniversary to this fic that consumes so many of my thoughts.

Thoughts and rambles under read more :) (spoiler-free!!!)

It's been a crazy journey so far, hasn't it?

I expected to be much further along the story by now, but since I spend so much of my time also working on Shuake pieces and dealing with real-life stuff, I try not to beat myself up for the slow progress, 90k words in a year is still progress! Also, I draw covers for every chapter, and my beta does an awesome job at editing this whole thing, so it's a little more polished (since I'm not a native English speaker). So yeah, everything adds up, and it takes a while to post new chapters.

Speaking of the covers, it's wild to see how much my style changes between them aha, and god I really hate some of the early ones, whether it's color or anatomy or the brushes I used... When I finish this fic I think I will go back and polish every cover...maybe by then I will make even better covers!

Anyway lets talk about the story for a moment, a lot of things inspired me to write this fic, mainly the idea 'what if there was a mod where you can have Ryoji in SEES and the story changed accordingly?' that's why the fic is structured by days and time of day-as if you are playing the game!

It's not always going to be as in depth about every day of the story-we are actually near the end of it being just one or two days per chapter, and soon things will start speeding up a little more, there was just a lot of Ryoji getting used to SEES that I had to cover.

What else can I say... Oh I suppose I can share something a bit insane, which is the fact for over a year, this whole fic has been planned on an excel, with every timeslot written out.

It looks like this, except it's like, much bigger. Great for keeping track of stuff! Orange squares are all Canon events that I'm finding a way to retell somehow! This took such a long time to create but I love it. Sometimes I still change up things a bit.

I also made this chart that I'm pretty sure has mistakes but it mostly works for what I need ! Feel free to use as a reference if you want :) The red is just a note of characters that switch to first name later.

Anyway, all of this to say, I've never been so passionate about making a story as I've been about this one. Even though I know there's not that many people who care about Ryomina, and even less who enjoy reading fics of them, and 90% of people follow me for Shuake instead- I still really want to see this story until the end, in some ways it's a story I've wanted to tell since I was 13 and playing P3FES for the first time, but it wouldn't exist without Reload and making me fall in love with P3 all over again.

Lastly, thank you to anyone who has ever encouraged me in the comments on AO3, this story is for me, but it's also for all of you, and even if you don't stay with me until the end, I appreciated having you on the ride even if just for a short moment.

Now I should disappear cause I tend to be shy about rambling this much online, but the anniversary had me a bit emotional aha-if anyone has any questions feel free to drop an ask too! Always open to answer to those :) Ty for reading

And here's a little sneak peek/WIP to the next chapter, which shouuuld be out next week!

[resident-idiot-simp]

Bucky and Steve running across Logan and meeting Wade and Laura in the process

(x)

Logan was out shopping when he heard a whisper "Lucky James." And smelled familiar scents. It's Barnes and Rogers, he knows immediately his plans for the day are going to be postponed.

He just sighs and walks towards an alley so they can talk without too many onlookers. They stand at the opening of the alley with crossed arms and wide eyes. Logan just puts his arms out to the side as if he's showing off.

"It's been a while." Logan acknowledges.

"A WHILE?!" Rogers half shouts, "How are you not old It's been close to a century?" Barnes asks.

Logan just raised an eyebrow at them, "I could ask you the same thing but I know the answer to that." Logan points out.

"Of course you know the answer everyone knows did they enhance you too?" Rogers asks and Logan shakes his head. "Nah I don't need enhancements I was born this way." Logan says with a shrug.

"Explain." Barnes orders and Logan does. "I'm a mutant."

Barnes and Rogers share a look. "So what are you just slow to age?" Barnes asks. Logan smirks, "Kinda It's more like I have a healing factor the likes of which you've never seen. With a few other things." Logan tacks the last part on like an afterthought.

"What do you mean?" Rogers asks. Logan chuckles to himself, "For all intents and purposes I'm immortal. I was there when the bombs dropped in Japan and I'm still here."

Barnes and Rogers looked shell-shocked.

"I'm twice as old as both of you." Logan adds just because he can.

This seems to break them slightly. "Do you want to get lunch with us so we can catch up?" Barnes asks and Logan shrugs. "If you pay with that Stark money." Logan offers, and they agree.

They go to one of Logan's favorite places Wade had shown him and he takes their normal booth in the corner. The waitresses greet him happily and he smiles and waves back. It's very different from the world he was in and he'd like to keep it that way.

Barnes and Rogers couldn't keep their eyes off him like if they looked way he might just up and disappear. He understood but couldn't really relate.

"H-how have you been what have you been doing?" Rogers asked and what a question to start with. He might as well rip the bandage off now.

"I'm not your Lucky James." He says completely ignoring that question for now. "Also it's Logan now has been for a while."

They stare blankly and he continues.

"The man you served with isn't me he died a while ago. I'm from another universe a far shittier one of my own making. I was brought here as a replacement for the man you knew."

"...what?" Barnes breathed sounding a bit heartbroken.

"It's complicated and I don't know the full story, but you need to understand I'm not the same person you knew. It is most likely that we had the exact same experiences, but you are not my Barnes and Rogers and I am not your Logan."

"What happened to him?" Rogers asked.

"He sacrificed himself to save some kids. He was a hero and a legend to those who knew him." Logan answered.

"And you're not?" Rogers asked, sharp as a tack that one.

"Not in my world. I did a lot of bad things got real mad...lost control...... I'm not like the other Logan my story differs after the X-Men."

"You are an X-man?" Barnes asked and Logan looked away.

"Your Logan was. I am just a disgrace who couldn't accept I needed to get over myself."

Barnes's eyes lit up as he connected dots, "You're Wolverine." Steve's head wipped towards Logan as he also realized.

Logan nodded.

"Well, the question still stands How are you and what have you been doing?" Steve asks and Logan smiles slightly.

"Better, I have a new purpose and shot at life thanks to Wade. I'm doing jobs with the maniac and living a pretty normal life."

"Who's Wade?" Barnes asked with a raised brow. Logan smiles he can't help it. "My fiance. He's the one who brought me here, but that's a long complicated story that I promise isn't that interesting." Logan answered with a shrug.

"You said you did jobs. You want to specify?" Rogers asked and Logan rolled his eyes.

"We work for the TVA which is something I'm not going to get into and normal merc shit." Logan says offhandedly.

Rogers splutters his drink and Barnes looks interested. "Would I know Wade?" Barnes  asks and Logan smirks, "Definitely." They give their orders as the waitress comes and Logan gets a call.

He answers with a surprisingly soft, "Hey kit." That has Barnes and Rogers looking at one another eyes wide.

"Yeah yeah, we're at our favorite place." A pause. "Yeah ok, do you want your usual?" Another pause, "Ok see you in a bit bye."

The waitress raises an eyebrow at Logan, "Does she want her usual?" Logan nods and she scratches something else down before leaving.

"What was that?" They ask at the same time and Logan just smiles. "The main reason your Logan sacrificed himself is coming." He says and he sounds so incredibly fond.

They talk for a while longer until Logan perks up and the super soldiers turn to see what Logan's looking at.

It's a young lady who looks so much like Logan all of the questions they have are answered after just a glance.

"Come here kit." Logan calls his voice seeming to vibrate like a purr. The lady makes her way to the seat next to Logan smiling.

"Hi, papá." She greets her voice vibrating the same way. Logan throws an arm over her shoulder and squeezes before letting her go.

Rogers is trying and failing to speak as Barnes just stares. "This is Laura." Logan introduces and Barnes manages to get himself under control first.

"Nice to meet you Laura you can call me Bucky that's Steve." He sounds only slightly breathy which is impressive. Logan knows full well this is one of the last things they expected.

"I know." She says flatly and Rogers can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him. That's definitely Logan's daughter no doubt about it. Barnes seemed to have a similar reaction but managed to only snicker.

Logan doesn't even hide the shit-eating smile that crosses his face.

"Did Wade follow you?" Logan asked and Laura rolled her eyes. "He said he wouldn't so I give it 30 minutes until he shows up." Logan nods along like he expected this answer.

Barnes seemed to remember what Logan had said about this being the reason they're Logan had sacrificed himself as he looked at her closer.

"You're our Logan's kid." He stated more than asked. Rogers jerked in his seat as he too recalled that. Laura just sighed. Barnes suddenly felt like shit. Logan however didn't seem upset or annoyed at him.

"Yes, but I'm technically a clone. They took his DNA during the Weapons X program. I'm an attempt at recreating the perfect weapon." She said as she gestured at Logan who looked pissed off at the reminder.

There was a lot there that Rogers and Barnes hadn't heard yet none of which sounded good.

"I miss Dad but his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I have another life now a better one just like he wanted." She answered easily. Rogers and Barnes nodded sagely It definitely made them feel better knowing that their friend had sacrificed himself to save his daughter.

"I don't know how much you want to answer but what exactly was Weapons X?" Barnes asked the both of them.

Logan answered, "It was an organization that prays on mutants. It really started with me they tricked me into getting adamantium adhered to my bones before...well...they made me into the perfect weapon and took away my free will."

Laura leaned into him and Logan welcomed it smiling softly at her before continuing, "I was the tenth attempt and the first success. I eventually escaped, But they couldn't let it go so they tried cloning me." He breathed out.

Laura picked up from there, "I'm the 23rd attempt." She answered with a shrug. "Weapons X has been taken down but there's still offshoots that's what got pop."

Logan growled softly. "Fucking Francis." He snarled. Barnes seemed to look like he might be connecting some dots but couldn't quite put the whole picture together.

They were interrupted by the food being delivered. They talk for a while longer about less touchy issues after that, Laura even explaind what it's like in the mansion. That is until a while later when the diner goes silent and Logan and Laura perk up.

Rogers and Barnes reluctantly turn to see Deadpool sans his normal outfit. As he makes his way to the back booth where they are sitting. People he passes scramble out the door behind him.

Most of the waiters and waitresses look nervous, but he pays them no mind as he makes his way over. Rogers and Barnes prepare for a fight. "Peanut Mini, how are we doing?" He chirped.

Laura starts purring, "Pop." She greeted. "Thought you said you weren't going to follow the kit darling?" Logan asked his voice warbling the same way Laura's was.

"And let you two have all the fun? Please!" He rolled his eyes. He then turned and finally looked at the other two men and his eyes went wide.

Logan lunged at him covering his mouth, "Don't you dare scream Wade." He threatened as he pulled him down into the other open chair next to him.

Laura just laughed and Logan glared at her. Eventually, Wade managed to wiggle out of Logan's grasp, "OMG CAPTAIN AMERICA MY HERO!" He cried.

Rogers looked distinctly uncomfortable, "YOU KNEW I WANTED TO BE EXACTLY LIKE YOU WHEN I GREW UP DESPITE THE FACT I AM CANADIAN!" Wade exclaimed excitedly.

Rogers wanted to point out the fact that he ended up the exact opposite of him but didn't. His face however must have conveyed this because Deadpool answered." I KNOW I DIDN'T QUITE MANAGE IT BUT I GOT PRETTY CLOSE!"

Steve went to speak but Bucky was quick to speak over him because he had questions. He had never dared get close to Deadpool he was terrifying but now seemed like a perfect time.

"What do you mean by pretty close? I mean you're known for taking any job with a high enough pay?" He didn't ask rudely just really pointing out a fact in the underground.

Wade turned his attention to him, "Well sure But it's mainly bad people, Hell I'm quite warm-blooded for a merc. Besides when you're the best at what you do you end up taking the dirty jobs." And then as an afterthought tacked on, "And I do like money how else am I supposed to buy cocaine?"

"Al does love her cocaine." Laura agreed and Logan nodded along with that train of thought.

Rogers looked like he might explode and Logan looked lovestruck. The soldiers wondered distinctly what Logan saw in this maniac.

"What do you mean warm-blooded?" Barnes asked.

"Well, sometimes when kids get desperate they come to get help through unorthodox means. Most people don't touch it because the pay isn't good." Deadpool explained easily.

That seemed...actually pretty sweet which was surprising for someone like Deadpool.

"Besides I mainly take hits on drug lords, child traffickers, rapists, murderers, and the other unsavory," Deadpool answers easily and Logan nods at that confirming it.

The conversations continue and surprisingly Deadpool or Wade actually seems... Okay. Logan is enamored with him and it's understandable he has a charm to him if you can get over his...eccentricities.

Laura also clearly loves him and that's enough for them. They plan to have lunch at some later point. They pay and Wade leaves a generous tip...like a couple hundred dollars generous. The waitress seems to know him and thanks him with a smile. And just like that the trio is gone.

Steve and Bucky make their way back to the tower as they try to figure out how to explain the encounter they just had with the other Avengers.

"So where have you been?" Tony asks the moment they appear in the main area. The two share a look, "We met an old friend and caught up."

"Old friend, how old was he 90?" Clint asks from the couch. Bucky chuckles, "Actually he's much older than that. We had no idea though turns out he's a mutant."

Everyone pauses at that and looks over to them all asking them to continue with just a glance.

"Super enhanced healing factor It's as immortal as it sounds." Steve answered.

"Yeah?" Tony asked eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Yeah, but it's complicated and it turns out he has a kid and fiance." Steve answered easily.

"With immortality? that sounds painful." Tony asked seeming haunted at the idea of outliving Pepper and Morgan.

Bucky chuckled, "Funny thing that they're also immortal."

Everyone paused, "How did that happen?" Bruce asked.

"Both are experiments from his DNA." Barnes revealed.

Tony and Bruce shared a look, "Is there any way we can meet them?" Tony asked excitedly.

Bucky and Steve shared a glance, "Well...sure but.." Steve trailed off.

"One of them is Deadpool." Barnes finished.

Natasha and Clint seemed to jump a foot in the air out of shock alone.

"WHAT?!" They both shouted in shock.

(I plan on posting this tomorrow to Ao3)

[vossprime]

20 Questions: Writing Edition

Tagged by the Inquisition herself ( @inquisitornocturn ), thank you, this looks so fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

23!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

102,210

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mechanical; Medicinal (Rogue Trader)

Absolute / Obedience (BG3)

Systematical; Sacrificial (Rogue Trader)

I don't know where to put my hands (Metro 2033)

Blood in the Water (WH40K)

What fandoms do you write for?

WH40K, broadly speaking.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to all of them simply because they spark an endless well of joy in me and most often inspire me to say something in return. Also whenever I comment I love replies as well, so I try to keep that going.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Once I fucking sit down and continue Blackwater Days you will all see-

From my recent ones, on the principle of want (RT, Achilleas x Heinrix) comes to mind. Not for the plot, necessarily, which is more sorrowful than angsty, but the last line:

For a moment Heinrix wants to kiss him awake, kiss him goodbye.  The Interrogator breathes once, twice, then turns on his heel and leaves the room.

It was a deliberate choice to contrast Heinrix with his title here, that was my special little treat to myself. I gain another health bar anytime someone points it out.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ironic, given the title, but Bellicose Hearts (Horus Heresy). It was written as a gift and a challenge for @mortallyperfecttimemachine and the theme was humor and fluff, so it ended on a nice note. A photo together. The remembrancers are happy. Keeler is there. Karkasy is alive. Isstvan is far away.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not directly! My comments are locked to registered accounts only, that seems to dissuade the obvious bots and trolls. Always fond of the ask I got that was just a "👎" tho.

Do you write smut?

In theory yes, in practice I have been told my smut is just character studies in disguise. My most popular fics stay the ones that were exclusively written with my [redacted] though.

Do you write crossovers?

Not really - most often they don't hold any appeal for me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I'm already being vagued /j - SOON.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

You're asking someone who has a brain like a sieve and triple-wields ships until polyamory is the only sensible solution :D

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

None. I plan to see everything through. If it takes 10 years, it takes 10 years. Farseer grindset.

What are your writing strengths?

Prose, poetry, evocative imagery.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Who came up with this. Is it not enough to communicate through 4-6 intricately crafted metaphors and call it a day? Hell world.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Provided I am writing in English, I provide translation in the footnotes and try not to have it drag on for too long. I do enjoy some language variety in fic, though. Dirty Talk in another language? Elite. Sadly I come from the language the absolute least suited for writing this.

First fandom you wrote for?

The first one I published for was Metro 2033, the book. The first one I wrote was for a mobile game called The Arcana. Don't judge me, a bitch saw tarot themes and a pointy-toothed nonbinary vivisection freak and decided he just might. A true freak from day one - you can tell why I like Tervantias.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm going to level with you. It will always be the last one. I grow and evolve with each piece and whatever I have last put out will be my pride and joy at that very moment. However, Blackwater Days (which I still plan to bring past chapter 1, it's just sitting in my drafts all disjointed and none of like 5 chapters empty but none ready either) will always be close to my heart for how much planning, fantasizing and worldbuilding happened around it. Those three hour discussions with my roommate on military strategy are sacred.

Tagging: Let me gather my irl squad for a second: @definitely-not-iorveth @mortallyperfecttimemachine , @goofgoofdildo , @ineadhyn , I'd be really interested to hear if you feel like it!

[mikathemonster]

PPE: Chapter One

I'm so glad to finally start dishing this out to all of you. It's been a WIP since 2023, and though it's far from finished, I think it's finally beginning to become digestible. Pride and Prejudice has always been one of my favorite classical stories, so I'm very excited to give you all the first chapter of my P&P inspired fanfic.

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

wc. 3945

Afternoon sunlight trickled through the glass windows of your home as you journaled in the study. It was a long day of nothing for you, having done all of your chores and errands yesterday evening. Today was supposed to have been spent with your sister, but it seemed that her plans had changed suddenly, as she was far too busy chasing after blacksmiths in Dale. But you were used to her boy-crazy antics by now. After all, with how often your mother encouraged you and your sister to marry well-off, you couldn’t exactly blame her; she was just getting ahead of the game. At least, that’s how it looked to your mother on the surface.

In reality, Aerin loved the attention of any man willing to give it to her. 

“It’s fun, it’s thrilling,” she had told you once, describing her exciting hobby. “It’s an easy way to pass the time and enjoy yourself on an otherwise boring day.”

You didn’t share her passion for objectifying men, but you also trusted her not to get herself into any serious trouble. You were the only one who knew she rarely found any true connections from such behavior; she was smart and always kept her heart close to her. It was a quality of hers you much admired. 

While it was harder for her to find someone truly worthy of her talents, you always seemed to envy and admire the way she could easily see right through to a man’s true intentions. Perhaps her passion had helped her develop such a skill, but it was skills such as these that made her your most trusted confidant in the tight net of your small family. Many nights in your home led to quiet conversations under the linen sheets of your shared bed, gossiping about her latest societal adventures. 

Many of these adventures inspired your own passion for writing. Her tales of fancy and romance would make you roll your eyes, but even you couldn’t help yourself to dreaming up such situations in your own stories. Under the sheets, she’d inquire about which adventure of hers you had written about most recently. She was the only one in your family that spoke proudly and openly of your passion for writing.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that your other family members disapproved; in fact, they had their own little ways of appreciating you, but more privately. Oftentimes you had caught your cousin Bairn in you and your sister’s room, sneaking his nose in your completed journals full of tales of romance and mystery. 

“Get out of my room!” You’d huff, rushing over to shut the book before him.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” He’d defend himself, though you had just caught him red-handed. “Gods, you’re so paranoid!”

It was always annoying, of course, but you appreciated the underlying sentiment of it all. Just never in the moment.

And speaking of, Bairn soon walked in to interrupt your writing as he gave you a slightly foreboding look; it seems he had come with news as he shut the door behind him. 

“Your mother, my aunt, seems to be quite too happy this morning.” He said, his hands waving about.

You scoffed, setting your journal down as the newest entry would have to wait. “What is that supposed to mean? It’s a nice day out today, Bairn. She has plenty of things to be happy about, I’m sure.” 

“No, this is more than good weather, I think,” he shook his head. “She started grinning like nothing shortly after I delivered her the mail. It was scary, like whenever Aerin finds a man she wants to chase.”

“Do you think she received word of someone dying?” You joked, feigning shock. Bairn didn’t seem to find it funny.

“Who could have possibly died to make her smile like that?”

“Nevermind that,” you waved the thought away, realizing he wasn’t in a joking mood. “Why are you hiding away in here, then?”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding.” He was quick to defend himself, just like always, finally moving away from the door he had been leaning on.

“Bairn. You shut the door behind you. Rather quickly, might I add.” You pointed out with a chuckle. “You’re hiding.”

He sighed. “I… I wanted to spend time with you, dear cousin. Perhaps ask about your most recent writing?”

You scoffed, about to say something sarcastic when your mother’s footsteps started being heard throughout the house. Bairn’s face fell.

“She’s coming,” he whispered, his whole body stiffening. You stifled a laugh.

“Oh for gods’ sake, Bairn,” you stood up to open the door. “It’s not like she’s a witch!” 

“A witch, perhaps not. But certainly a madwoman when she’s grinning like a cat!” He said, taking your previous seat next to your journal. “What were you doing?”

“You amuse me, cousin.” You smiled. “And I was writing down my thoughts, until you came to interrupt me in such a rush.” 

Just as you said that, your mother waltzed in through the door with a fierce determination, armed with a letter in her hand.

“Oh my gods, there you two are! Where is your sister?” She asked, a wide excited grin on her face, just as Bairn had described. You stifled a grin yourself, finding this whole situation entertaining. It was hard to find a dull moment in your strange family, especially with your mother’s dramatics.

“Gods, she’s quick,” your cousin cursed under his breath. You held back your laughter, not wanting your mother to catch on.

“She’s out right now, at the smithy,” you answered. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, of course she is. Well, it matters not.” It seemed she was even too excited to care that your sister was off flirting again. “Only the best news of the year; Lord Threl has just returned from the Blue Mountains!” 

She practically screamed with giddy delight, and you had to search your brain to figure out who she was talking about. You looked to your cousin for some sort of clarification, but he looked as clueless as you as he shrugged his shoulders. 

This was a common occurrence in your family, as your mother was a bit of a gossiper.

“Don’t tell me you two have forgotten?” Your mother huffed, unamused at your blank expression.

You rolled your eyes. “A little help would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“He’s son to Lord Thral of the Blue Mountains,” your mother explained, but it wasn’t exactly working to enlighten your mind. “He’s returned from his home for a short time on a political trip to Erebor, where he’ll be staying for a few months!”

“Forgive me, aunt,” your cousin finally chimed in. “But who is that?”

“Don’t tell me you two have already forgotten?” She sighed, taking a seat. “His father was one of the first ones to offer help to those forced out of Dale by Smaug the Terrible all those years ago, and he was the first one to send aid when Bard began rebuilding our lovely city. Surely you remember Lord Thral?”

It seemed to click for your cousin, whose eyes lit up with recognition. “Do you mean Thral of Thunder? The dwarf lord who survived five encounters with lightning? They say he has blue marks on his skin from where the lightning struck!”

Your mother was not impressed. “How is that the only thing you recall about him?”

“Are you kidding?” Bairn continued. “They say he defeated an entire army of orcs single handedly!”

Your mother huffed, clearly annoyed at your cousin’s love for dangerous tales.

You chuckled, offering a soothing rub to your mum’s shoulders. “To be fair, it’s a harrowing story.”

“Well the truth is not just a story!” She huffed, but her stress would soon subside.

“And why has it gotten you so excited, Aunt?” Bairn asked, looking between you and your mother.

“Because we’ve received an official invitation to his opening banquet!” She beamed, waving the letter in the air in her giddy excitement. 

Your mouth hung agape for a moment, struggling to find words. No wonder she had been so offended you two couldn’t recognize his name. You even looked to Bairn for solidarity; it seemed he was just as surprised.

“An opening banquet?” You raised your brows, shocked. “When is it?”

“In three days time, based on this letter,” your mother said. “Just think of the opportunity this is for you and your sister! And don’t think I’m forgetting about you, young man.” 

She walked up to Bairn, straightening his clothes. “This is a fine chance to introduce yourselves into society and gain some reputation, or even meet someone!”

“Reputation of what, exactly?” Bairn raised a brow. 

“Meet someone?” You followed.

Your mother scoffed. “At this point, any reputation would do you two some good! Bairn, it’s high time you sought out some work aside from polishing blades. And Y/N dear, don’t you want to meet some new people instead of staying cooped up all day?”

“I enjoy my ‘cooping’, thank you,” you frowned, getting defensive. “And… I meet people!”

“The grocer doesn’t count, my dear.” Your mother walked towards you, tucking some hair out of your face as your cousin snickered at her remark. “Even if you don’t find the thought pleasing, we’re going to attend. I’ve made my decision. This is a great opportunity for all of you and especially your sister.”

“Aerin?” Bairn asked curiously.

“It’s high time she married, or at least stopped parading around with a new boy to chase every few weeks.” And just like that, your mother’s distaste for Aerin’s hobby was coming back. “I can handle her being the talk of the neighborhood, and I’m all for childish games but I won’t have her wasting her youth. It’s time she started looking for something more serious. She needs to start making a name for herself, she’s too bright not to.”

“And are you going to be the one to tell her this news, Mum?” You raised a brow, knowing Aerin would probably both love and loathe this idea of hers. 

“No, I think you two are capable enough of relaying the message,” she grinned. “I’ll be much too busy sharing the news at the market today!”

“Oh, but of course.” You spoke sarcastically, giving a bow. This was typical of your mother. “We’ll be your messengers.”

“As always,” Bairn rolled his eyes.

“And I adore you for it,” your mother walked over to Bairn, pinching his cheek. “I’ll leave the letter here with you, lest someone steal it at the market. I’ll try not to be long!” 

She was already waving goodbye as she exited from whence she came. Finally, your cousin and you could share some peace. A collective sigh filled the air from the two of you, with silence following it. For a moment, nobody spoke. 

“Nervous?” You asked, coming to sit by him.

“No… Well, yes. This seems a lot more… expensive than our family is accustomed to.” He said as you rubbed a small circle into his back.

You nodded with a hum of understanding. Sure, your family could trace its lineage to Dale’s nobility, but that was nothing compared to the royalty of dwarves.

“I agree, but surely it can’t be too above our paygrade if we’ve been invited?” You countered. Bairn nodded in agreement. “Mum’s right, you know. It could be a good opportunity for work. Don’t you want to do more than polishing knives?”

“It’s certainly a grand thing indeed,” he affirmed. “I’m just worried I won’t measure up.”

“Well there’s nothing to worry about until we’re there, Bairn,” you said. “Unless we’re deciding what to wear.”

“Aerin will take the longest for that,” he scoffed, relaxing a little. A comfortable silence hung in the air before he drew a breath. “What even is this banquet, anyways? Why are we invited out of all people?”

“Well, then. Read it yourself.” You handed Bairn the letter your mother had left next to him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t also curious about the specificities of the invitation.

Your cousin carefully reopened the letter, his eyes scanning the text as he began to read aloud. 

“The Court of Erebor cordially invites the Free People of Dale to an assembly banquet in the name of Lord Threl to honor the allied bond between Erebor and Ered Luin. As to showcase the last seven years of camaraderie between the Men of Dale and Erebor’s Army, there will be a spectacular display of fireworks at the end of the night.”

“Well that makes it sound a little less expensive if everyone in town is invited,” you spoke, reading over his shoulder. “And Mum was worried about someone stealing our invitation.”

Bairn set the letter down. “Well, it seems very promising. Perhaps I could apprentice with the smithies in the Forges. That would do me some real good.”

“Or at the very least, you could meet them,” you added.

“What about you? What will you do?” Bairn asked.

Another moment of silence.

“Hm… I can’t imagine much, I’m not so sure there’s a whole lot of writers in Erebor. I might just follow Mum or Aerin around the whole time, to be quite honest. Though, it would be fun to wander off and explore the city.”

He chuckled. “Imagine that. With so many people invited, I doubt they’d let us wander everywhere.”

“You’re probably right,” a soft grin hung on your lips. “Still, it’s a nice dream.”

“I hear the halls are chiseled with gold,” he said rather dreamily.

“Well, we shall certainly see for ourselves.”

Almost as if on cue, the door slammed shut downstairs and a high-pitched squeal of delight rang throughout the home, followed by impending footsteps heading straight for your shared bedroom. You smiled to yourself, resting your hand over Bairn’s as you pulled him up with you to head for the door. “Duty calls,” you said.

“I hate being the messenger all the time,” Bairn groaned.

—

After you and your cousin showed her the invitation, a moment of silence fell upon your sister as her face charged up with the brightest grin you had seen in weeks. She let out a breath, speechless, as she turned to face Bairn, then immediately back to you. “Are you absolutely certain?!” 

“You can read it for yourself if you don’t believe me,” you laughed.

“Well, go on then,” Bairn groaned, splayed across your bed as you sat at your vanity, with Aerin holding a pillow in her lap. “Scream and shout away.”

She didn’t need permission; Aerin was already squealing in delight before Bairn could finish his sentence.

“A banquet! Oh, what am I going to wear? How are we going to arrive? Surely we will have to walk, so what shoes must I prepare? Wait-” Her hand flew to her chest. “What if we all matched?”

“I’d rather melt,” Bairn squeaked, not fond of the idea. 

You weren’t particularly crazy about it either, but you loved your sister dearly. “Just as long as you don’t put me in a dress. Those things are so difficult to maneuver in.”

“Oh, calm down,” she chided. “That’s only because Mum tied it too tight last time, and you know it.” You handed your sister the letter, who tore into it eagerly as she read every word.

You winced. “Speaking of Mum…”

Your sister stopped in her tracks, brows now furrowed in confusion. “Why? What’s wrong?”

You chewed this inside of your cheek, nervous to deliver the news. “Well…”

“She wants you to start looking for suitors at the banquet,” Bairn rumbled, face down in the sheets.

“Suitors? Oh, well that’s not too bad,” she began to wave the thought away before you interjected.

“No, she’s serious about this, Aerin,” You warned. “She was talking about marriage.” 

Your sister’s expression fell at your words. 

“Already?” Aerin whispered, a small frown tugging the corner of her lips. 

“Well, you are the eldest,” you shrugged. “I believe she may be worried that your reputation–”

“What reputation?”

“You know exactly what reputation,” Bairn rolled his eyes.

“She’s worried it may hold you back in life, is all.” You offered, hoping to come across as an ally.

Your sister sighed, sinking into her pillow as she held it close to her chest. “I suppose I thought we would have more time.”

“It seems that time has come,” you nodded. “We are already getting around that age, Aerin.”

“And what about Bairn?” She said.

“Aunt says she wants me to get a job,” he answered, sitting up now. “She wants both of you to go out and meet people. Especially Y/N.”

“Yes, thank you for bringing that detail to light once more, Bairn,” you grinned sarcastically before sighing. “It’s just at the banquet, I’m sure. You know how she doesn’t approve of any of the boys here.”

Aerin scoffed. “Oh, there’s no need to remind me. But still… I’d rather enjoy myself at a banquet rather than worry about things like money or marriage or reputation…”

“And you still can!” You spoke up, trying to reassure your sister. The whole idea of the banquet was exciting, especially for such a social butterfly as your sister. You didn’t want your mother’s wishes to affect your sister from having a good time.

“I doubt Mum will be following you around the whole night. We could even stick together the whole night to give Mum some solace, then after we dance and feast and drink we can simply say that we didn’t meet anyone worth marrying!” You suggested. “We don’t often get invited to something like this, so we shouldn’t spend the whole time worrying during it.”

Aerin was slowly coming back to her happy-go-lucky self, smiling brightly at you. “Do you promise?”

“I wouldn’t dare break it,” you smiled softly.

“Which leaves me stuck with Aunt Elina. Just wonderful,” Bairn sighed, and your sister and yourself couldn’t help the laughter that escaped.

“Oh, cheer up, Bairn,” Aerin threw her pillow at him. “At least we’ll all be matching!”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

–

Night soon came, as it always did, and slowly things seemed to calm down from the afternoon’s excitement. The buzz in the air had been replaced with a quiet hum of contentment as your mother and Bairn sat reading by the fire while you continued your previous journaling upstairs in your bedroom. Candlelight danced by your hand as you wrote down your thoughts, the only sound filling the air being your sister’s humming as she stared out of the window. 

These were your favorite nights in your house, filled with nothing but comforting quiet around the people you cared about, especially on nights where your sister hummed or sang. You’d fallen asleep to her songs many times in your childhood. Your mother loved to tell the stories of how whenever you couldn’t sleep, you’d crawl into bed with Aerin and have her sing you to sleep.

Even now, in the dead of night, you found yourself drifting into a peaceful solitude as she hummed. So peaceful, in fact, that it had taken you several moments to even realize that she had stopped.

“Is everything alright?” You looked up from your writings only to find your sister still gazing out of the window.

“I’m just thinking,” she said in a hushed voice.

“About what?”

“Plenty of things,” she said.

“How incredibly vague,” you joked, earning a smile from your sister.

“Thank you, I’m very well known for my vagueness, you know,” she teased back.

You set your journal and pen down, walking away from your desk to join her on your bed. 

“Is it the banquet?” You asked.

“A little,” she admitted. “I care a lot more about Mum’s expectations, though.”

“Oh. I see.” You nodded. In truth, you weren’t sure what to say to Aerin in this moment as quiet hung in the air. 

“I’m still listening,” you offered.

“I’ve always wanted to marry, I think,” she said hesitantly. “But I imagined it happening more on my own terms. And certainly much later in life, like Mum did.”

“It still can,” you offered. “I doubt Mum would be displeased if you didn’t meet ‘the one’ in a single night.”

“I agree,” she smiled. “But for some reason the whole idea still bothers me in some way. It feels so different now that there’s this pressure to meet someone.” 

“I think Mum’s just worried,” you reassured. “Nowadays, it’s much more customary for people to be arranged in marriage. It’s not often that people get married as late in life as Mum and Dad did.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she nodded. “I suppose I just didn’t expect her of all people to agree on that sentiment.”

A silence fell over you, unsure of what to say. The most you could be in this moment was a kindly pair of ears.

Aerin continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever had too much trouble meeting anyone, not any that I can think of…” 

“You’ve certainly met a lot.”

“All in good fun, of course,” she sighed. “You know, I think I have met almost every eligible bachelor in this town. All of them are quite agreeable. But none of them have truly felt…”

“Exciting?”

“No, that’s not it,” she said.

“Honorable?”

“Surely not,” she chuckled. “But that’s not it either.

She turned to you, finally drawing her gaze away from the window. “I feel rather rude for saying this, given my own reputation, but none of the men I’ve met here have seemed… worthy enough of my time?”

You scoffed. “Interesting, considering you chase them so.”

“Only for a few weeks at a time,” she waved her hand. “But I’ve never met a man that’s made me feel comfortable with giving him the rest of my life.”

“An ominous way to put it,” you said. “But surely there have been some?”

“Not in a romantic sense,” your sister shook her head. “I imagine I could be great friends with some of them, even the blacksmith I was with today would make a tolerable friend. But I’ve never met a man and thought, ‘Now he’s the one.’ Does that make sense?”

You nodded hesitantly, taking in the information. “And you’re worried that will happen at the banquet?”

She shook her head. “Truth be told, I’m worried none of my skills will prevail at the banquet.”

“What do you mean?”

“For some reason I’m worried about not meeting anyone more than I am worried about meeting ‘the one’. Is that odd?”

“Aerin,” you reached for your sister, rubbing her shoulders to soothe her. “That’s impossible, even for you.”

She frowned. “I’m serious.”

“And so am I. You’ve always been so enigmatic, you’re not just some girl from Dale.” You took her hands into yours.

“But it’s Dwarfish royalty!” She countered, standing up and running her hands through her hair. “This isn’t some festival or birthday party, this is a real royal political banquet!”

“It’s just one night.” You reminded her.

She drew a breath, exhaling with a nod and worried smile. “I’m thinking too much about it, aren’t I?”

You nodded, giving a slight chuckle. “It’s just one night, Aerin.”

“We probably won’t even meet that many people,” she scoffed.

“But we’ll at the very least look lovely while we do it,” you reassured, and that seemed to bring her spark back a little.

“With matching outfits?”

“Matching colors, that’s all you get. You know I hate your kinds of dresses,” you said and she rolled her eyes.

“But it’s just one night!”

[explosionshark]

Arcane - Clairvoyant for the wip ask game

Clairvoyant is the working title bc of the really really great State Faults song I was listening to at the time. It was actually the first fic I started riffing on after S2 ended (not the first fic I started writing which would be Toxic Smut #1).

The idea was just to do a post-series piece that followed through on some of the threads I thought were really interesting: Caitlyn and Vi adjusting to each other, Caitlyn's role and responsibility changing, her path to atonement, Vi's way through her grief and finding where she fits in a life outside of prison or fighting or caretaking for her sister. I wrote one scene I adored but got kind of stuck after and moved on to other work

Now, given my tentative plans for continuing Long Ride, this post-series fic feels a little redundant. I might scrap it or reuse parts or maybe even preserve the whole thing for another fic but probably not.

But here's the scene I did really like:

(leaving in my notes to myself bc I think it's funny)

It’s the fourth day since the invasion. Caitlyn had walked the ward for the first time today. Not far, and with great labor —leaning heavily on a steel walker and with Vi and a strong nurse at her elbow— but she had been heartened, slightly, by what she saw; Piltover’s finest doctors, exhausted but determined, treating Zaunites and Piltovans alike.

She’d spoken to the other members of the Council a few times since being admitted to the hospital, much to Vi’s consternation. The funding of all medical care for citizens of both cities had been earmarked in an emergency resolution, hastily funded through a combination of reallocated defense funding and underwritten by a generous donation from the major houses, Kirraman most of all. It’s where her father is now, at her behest — applying the subtle arts of persuasion and flattery he’d honed for so many years at his wife’s side, fundraising for his daughter’s causes now. It had been hard to ask, knowing the grief it would stir up, but Caitlyn had known he would agree. He was a good man. Like Caitlyn’s mother had been good.

Sometimes Caitlyn wonders how he can stomach to look at her. Sometimes she wonders what her mother would think of her, if she could see the mess Caitlyn had made of things without her, and it makes her want to weep.

Mostly, Caitlyn tries to stop those thoughts before they can get that far. There’s a breakdown coming, she knows, she can feel it — it would be pointless to deny, to pretend she could stave it off forever. Forever is a child’s dream, a frivolous fantasy, and Caitlyn is beyond those things now. But it’s not practical now — Caitlyn can’t afford to lose what such weakness would cost her, not now. There is so much still to do. She has to hold it together, a little longer.

But tonight, the fourth night — this almost breaks her.

“I thought I lost you,” Vi says it so quietly, Caitlyn isn’t sure she’s supposed to have heard it.

They’re lying together —quite against the rules, though it seems the nurses that see to Caitlyn have finally given up on trying to discourage them— in Caitlyn’s hospital bed. Caitlyn’s room is private and as quiet as it gets here, the only sounds muffled through the closed door, the distant traffic of the harried hospital staff, far-off voices, the occasional harrowing shout or moan of a patient.

Vi is curled up against Caitlyn’s blind side, forehead pressed into Caitlyn’s shoulder. It’s not ideal. She would much prefer to be able to see Vi, but the injuries on her right side are much too severe to risk having her there. Ambessa’s knife and the fight that followed had ripped Caitlyn’s right kidney to ribbons. It had taken two surgeries and a pint of her father’s blood to stabilise her.

Caitlyn wonders if this is what Vi is thinking about.

She tilts her head down, feeling Vi’s hair brush the underside of her jaw and tries to look down at her face through her bleary right eye. It’s an uncanny sensation, endlessly frustrating — not just the pain, but the sense that something’s wrong. The urge to blink or rub her eye until it begins to work again. Caitlyn has lost track of how many times she’s absently reached up towards it only to feel the bandage, to encounter the maddening lack of any sight at all on left side. She feels halved. Incomplete.

“I’m right here,” she murmurs, hating how thick her tongue feels in her mouth, how the pain medication makes her feel like she’s stupid, stuck at half speed. Nothing feels right anymore.

Vi twists, rubbing her face into Caitlyn’s shoulder, her arm tentatively crossing Caitlyn’s body, to cover her, palm resting gingerly over the curve of Caitlyn’s hip. It barely hurts.

“It just…” Vi croaks out again and takes a hitching breath. Caitlyn feels dampness bloom against her arm through the cloth of her gown.

Caitlyn waits for Vi to speak again. Her brain feels sluggish, thoughts coming too slow. She wants to speak and she wants it to be easy like it had been between them before, when she could open her mouth and her heart would come pouring out, honest and sure. But she doesn’t trust her heart like she used to and she can’t trust her dullard’s mind enough to make up the difference. Clenching her teeth hard enough to send a dull throb of pain through her skull, she thinks instead about turning, drawing Vi into her arms and covering her face in soft, gentle kisses, about running her hands through Vi’s hair, down the muscled lines of her body until she calms and goes limp against her.

Gingerly, Cailtny tries to turn to her to do just that but a sharp stab of agony from her side wrenches a pathetic gasp from her and halts her in place.

It wakes her up a little, at least.

“You okay?” Vi asks immediately, jerking upwards, her face moving into Caitlyn’s line of vision. She’s teary, slightly panicked. “Should I get the doctor?”

Stupid, Caitlyn thinks at herself, frustrated at having worried Vi when she’d meant to comfort her. You stupid, stupid broken thing.

“No, no,” Caitlyn whispers, voice as gentle as she knows how to make it. She reaches up to cup Vi’s face, humming at the way Vi immediately leans into her touch, tilting her head down to kiss the heel of Caitlyn’s palm. “What were you saying?”

Vi hesitates. She covers Caitlyn’s hand with her own, shakes her head gently. “Forget it.”

Part of Caitlyn wants to do just that. The part swimming against the stupefying current of medication. The part that’s exhausted and hollowed out, the part that feels fundamentally wronged. The Scion of Kirraman house, who was surely destined for some fate other than this — dull-witted and broken in a hospital.

The selfish part of her.

But Caitlyn has been selfish with Vi for far too long.

“When you saw me after the attack?” Caitlyn prompts after a beat. “You thought you’d lost me?”

The truth is that Caitlyn barely remembers it. She’d been in excruciating pain, the adrenaline dump of the fight just starting to ebb into shock when Vi had suddenly been there in front of her, face hollow with grief and terror. She has a hazy memory of reaching out to cup Vi’s face, trying to turn her ruined eye away from her. The tacky sensation of blood down her face and neck, the screaming agony of it all. Vi’s tears. Caitlyn’s own inadequate, idiot litany as she’d stroked Vi’s face. It’s okay. Don’t look. I’m alright. It's okay.

But Vi freezes for a second and clears her throat. “No. I mean, yes— It looked… you looked really bad, Cait. I thought you were dying, I thought you were gonna leave me alone again. Only this time I’d be really alone. But…”

Caitlyn’s head aches, the phantom throb of her eye flaring at the memory of that awful day. She swallows against the pain and slips her hand from Vi’s cheek, up to cup the back of her head, to pull her gently down into Caitlyn’s side again.

“But that’s not what you meant.”

“After you left me. When they made you a Councilor. When you became…,” Vi’s voice is hesitant. “Fuck, I’m sorry. This isn’t the right time to talk about this.”

Of course it’s fucking not, Caitlyn wants to snap. Can’t you see the wreck of me? Can’t you see what I paid for it?

But she doesn’t. The outrage burns bright and hot in her chest, piercing the dull haze that had settled over her in these long gray hospital days. But Caitlyn grits her teeth, swallows it back—

It’s not fair. We can’t erase our mistakes. None of us.

No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.

Hadn’t she said it herself? There’s no erasing this. No undoing it. There hadn’t been any time before, to set things right with Vi. And one conversation in the quiet dusk of a hospital room won’t do it either, as much as Caitlyn wishes it could. But she owes Vi this much — to get this off her chest. To say what she needs to say.

“No,” Caitlyn exhales shakily. “It’s okay. Go on.”

Hesitantly, Vi speaks. She talks about feeling Caitlyn slip away after her mother’s death. She talks about being cast back down to the Undercity when Caitlyn walked away from her in the tunnels that day, waving away Caitlyn’s murmured apologies with stomach-churning ease. She talks about watching Zaun descend into chaos and desperation as the police crackdown hit. People she knew disappearing, rumors of arbitrary detention, warrantless raids.

“It was all fucking miserable,” Vi’s voice is shaky, strained. “But the worst part was— it was feeling like I’d done it to you, somehow.”

“Oh, Vi,” Caitlyn sighs.

“I’m fucking poison, cupcake,” Vi sniffs. “Everyone I know just… I make it all worse. When I met you, you were so good. And then after a few months with me you became this— this—”

“Tyrant,” Caitlyn fills in for her, the word bitter as ash on her tongue. “Monster?”

“It’s how we talked about you,” Vi admits. Caitlytn can’t help but note the we, not they. Not quite an agreement, but about as good as one. “In Zaun, I mean.”

“I let you down,” Caitlyn says. Guilt and shame sit like heavy stones in the pit of her stomach. “It wasn’t anything you did to me, brought to me. I made the choices I did. I… I almost lost myself.” She stops, feeling her throat tighten. It takes a few swallows to bring her voice back. It's hard to talk about this. Nothing she can think to say feels like enough. “You brought me back, Vi. I like to think I was getting there on my own. All my doubts… and I was so tired. I hated what I was doing but I couldn’t see a way out until you were there. You made me want to be better.”

Dampness at her shoulder again. Vi’s quiet, hitched breathing. Caitlyn closes her eye and scratches her nails gently over Vi’s scalp.

“Stay with me,” Caitlyn says, tangling her fingers in the soft strands of Vi’s hair, tight. Too tight, probably, but between the ache in her chest and Vi’s tears on her skin, she can’t quite bring herself to loosen her grip.

It’s not fair, of course. She has no right to ask this of Vi, especially after what she’d just admitted. Her justified resentment of Caitlyn, of the thing she had become. What she represented.

She knows this. It doesn’t stop her from saying it again, a low, urgent plea whispered into Vi’s bruised skin. “Stay with me.”

“I will,” Vi says.

“I’ll give you everything,” Caitlyn promises, unclenching her fist with great effort, returning to her slow, rhythmic scratching against Vi’s scalp. “Anything you want.”

“Just this,” Vi says. [ANOTHER LINE MAYBE]

If Vi knows she’s lying, then Caitlyn’s sure it’s a kindness she doesn’t deserve. But if somehow Vi doesn’t even realize how little she’s asking for, how completely, tragically beneath her it is to settle like that, well—

Caitlyn cuts the thought off for herself, running her hands through Vi’s hair, lips pressed to Vi’s forehead, breathing her in.

She can’t afford to let herself go there. Not yet.

She’s too tired, too raw, too fragile.

There’s too much still to do.

—

The following is copy+ pasted basically straight from the notes doc so very imperfect but I thought maybe a glimpse at my process and where this was gonna go might be interesting for someone to see

Vi ruminates on Caitlyn having given up Councilorship - she never wanted it

Caitlyn remains sheriff

Vi goes to Zaun on her behalf - to figure out where to spend Caitlyn’s money (Caitlyn settling off + donating family assets - it wasn’t until Caitlyn began to take deliberate steps to diminish her family’s wealth that Vi truly realized how much they had)

Class tensions! Vi is not universally beloved down there - on account of Piltie Pet status

Caitlyn mentions committee to investigate her. Vi is alarmed.

“How much did you know?” “Not all of it. But that’s my fault” - let them pull the wool over her eyes. “You were manipulated and grieving” “I let myself be manipulated. And my grief, for all it hollowed me out, doesn’t mean much to anyone else.” Did try to minimize damage, but didn’t do enough. “I let them so I could focus on…” Vi misses her sister every day but sometimes it feels like Jinx is still there - a weight on Vi’s shoulders, a ghost between them.

Investigation threat is partway pressure to get her to give up sheriff’s office - Vi urges her to do it, Caitlyn refuses bc she believes she can’t be corrupted + holding office is penance (“It’s not about power” “Caitlyn-” (ofc it is) “Not like that!” (<- half true) “It’s the stone around my neck.” “So put it down” “I can’t bc it won’t be taken up by the next sheriff, it will roll and crush others. I’ve done enough of that”)

Caitlyn has support. “Not everyone disagrees with how my regime handled things in Zaun. Many still support it. But that’s not support I want to call on” Vi, the pragmatist - “who cares! If it saves your life—”

Caitlyn moved her bedroom. Vi misses the old familiar space, but she understands Cait moved it bc of Maddie

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 18

Welcome to another WIP Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1 AO3 Link

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

From the radio station, the four traveled to the television studio for their next interview. The host had listened to their radio interview and helped summarize much of the information before asking further questions.

Tim and his teammates called into question the biases of the Drs Fenton and hoped their criticisms would bring others to think twice before taking their word as gospel.

When they were finally done, it was almost nine.

Tim shot off a quick text to Bruce for his morning check-in. He noticed Conner texting someone, too. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked.

“Sam. She says Danny’s still passed out. But her parents are talking about some sort of press release the mayor is planning on putting on at City Hall at ten.”

Cassie groaned. “Ugh, more reporters. Please say we don’t have to go.”

“We should,” said Tim. “But we can go in civvies.”

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” asked Bart. “It’s been hours since we woke up!”

“Yeah,” agreed Cassie. “I’m starving. Let’s get some food. I think I saw a diner when we flew to our second interview.”

Before Tim could consider protesting, Conner had him secure in his arms and TTK and they were in the air.

“Lead the way, Wonder Girl.”

Tim scowled to hide his smile. “Oh sure, don’t listen to your leader. Just do whatever.”

“You’d let us starve?” wailed Connor. “Then we’ll stage a mutiny!”

Cassie laughed. “Yeah, see how long you remain in charge of a hangry speedster, half-kryptonian, and demigoddess.”

Tim grinned. “Oh, but you forget I know you all very well. I can win you back to my side. Starting with Kon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” demanded Conner.

“Easy. I’ll just bribe you with Alfred’s cookies and a great movie. If I add in a dash of ‘I need your help’ and my puppy dog eyes and you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“That’s another square on my bingo card!” called back Cassie. “And look, we’re here!” She pointed down to a quintessential American diner with green glass windows.

The group met Bart a block away in an alley where they shed their gear.

“I’ll tell Sam what we’re up to.” Conner pulled out his phone to send the message.

“Quit wasting time! We’re on a deadline,” moaned Bart as he positioned himself behind Conner and tried to push him towards the street and breakfast.

Conner laughed and refused to budge, so Tim figured a demonstration of his power was in order.

He got in front of Conner and pouted at him. “I know I was joking about not allowing breakfast, but I’m the one who didn’t eat before the interviews. An omelet is calling my name.”

Conner groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck you, Rob.” But he stalked forward out of the alley.

Tim and Bart exchanged grins.

“Seriously, Tim,” said Cassie. “This trip has been great for my bingo card.”

Tim stuck his tongue out at her and jogged to catch up with Conner.

Breakfast was simple but tasty and they devoured far too much food. Their waitress was clearly impressed with her first exposure to a speedsters appetite. Add in a super and a demigoddess and it was obscene.

All too soon, however, it was time to go to the mayor’s press conference. As they made their way there, they joined a growing crowd. Clearly many people were interested in whatever the mayor had planned.

In the crowd, he could hear comments about their interviews. It seems both had been posted online and already had thousands of views. Some people seemed to be sympathetic to them, but others were mistrustful of the “outsiders.”

“If they’re such good friends, why did it take so long for them to come here?” asked one man of his friend.

“I’ve a cousin in Central City. She says trouble always follows a superhero,” said another.

Tim exchanged a look with Conner. He’d be able to hear more conversations and could share his perceptions later.

Before long, they were entering City Hall. Already the seats were full, so they were forced to stand in the back. Jack and Maddie were sitting near the front. Jeremy and Pamela Manson sat on the opposite side of the room as them, but also were near the front of the room.

Tim exchanged looks with his teammates to make sure they saw both couples. Conner was glaring at Maddie and Jack.

“They’re complaining about our interviews,” said Conner. “Throwing around guesses that we are either possessed or have already been brainwashed by the ghosts.”

“At least we know they aren’t observant. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

Mayor Montez stepped up to the podium and everyone fell silent. “People of Amity Park, we have been faced with a threat the likes of which we’ve never before seen! And based on the events of this morning, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to rely on outside help to get us out of it.”

A stone sunk in Tim’s stomach and he exchanged looks with his friends.

“We only have one piece of business today: Defeating the ghosts that infest our town. And to do that, I'm calling for a vote to cede all ghost policing and security decisions”—he held up a photo of Maddie—“to Maddie Fenton.” As Tim watched, however, the mayor’s eyes glowed red and he winced. “I mean Jack,” he corrected, holding up a new picture of Jack Fenton. “The completely competent Jack Fenton.”

“He’s overshadowed,” breathed Conner.

Tim nodded and was already sending a message to Sam, Tucker, and Danny. “And who knows who else.”

Before they could say anything else, the mayor continued, “And we’ve located the ghost responsible for all the terror inflicted on our town.” He held up a picture of Phantom. “Whatever some outsiders may have tried to lie to you about this very morning.”

A gasp rang out among the crowd. Tim glanced at his friends. Conner was glaring at the mayor fiercely and Tim attempted to step in front of him, as pointless as their relative sizes made the action.

The mayor smiled viciously as a panicked crescendo rose from the crowd. Tim’s phone vibrated in his hand and he saw a response from Sam.

Sam: We saw Sam: Danny is on his way Sam: And we’re following as fast we can

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Conner, you and Bart should go suit up. Cassie and I will stay and keep an eye on what’s going on. Stay close, but try not to be seen unless an attack happens.” Subtly, grateful for their places against the wall, he passed over the thermos he’d taken with him that morning.

Tim heard Conner’s sigh of relief as the two slipped away. He hated pretending to be a civilian in a crisis. Even more than the rest of them.

Cassie whispered, “I almost hate you for keeping me here.”

Tim just bumped their shoulders together.

The mayor, or rather the ghost inhabiting him, raised his arm and silence slowly fell. “We cannot call for outside help. Those who call themselves the Young Justice today proved that the so-called heroes of this world will defend our enemy over us. That they will spread lies to keep us subject to the whims of these ghosts.” The last word was spat. “So we must solve the problem ourselves. Jack Fenton, if the people of this town agree, you and those you train will be our defense force, will you do this?”

Jack near jumped three feet in the air in his excitement. “I’ve been training for this my entire life, Mayor Montez! I’ll be honored.”

“I believe we must institute martial law! The 9 PM curfew will remain in place. No one will be allowed on the streets alone. No loitering. The park will be closed until further notice. Same with the public pool and library and a number of other locations. Drs Fenton, will you be able to set up buildings protected by ghost shields where people can gather for safety?”

Whispering broke out among the public. Maddie stood tall next to her husband, though being continually overlooked in favor of him was clearly grating on her. “We can. Fenton Works is already protected and within two days we can have another shield up and ready. Within the week, we could have five.”

The whispered were almost loud enough to drown her out by the time she finished speaking

“Order! Order!” called Mayor Montez. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say—”

But cutting off the mayor, Danny, in his Phantom form, suddenly appeared in the air in the middle of the hall. “I might be too young to vote, but I’m casting one anyway.”

Around them, everyone gasped and people began backing away even as Danny shifted to look at them. Tim and Cassie both tensed and prepared to run.

“You people have to listen to me,” urged Danny. “I’m on your side.”

Mayor Montez took a step back as members of his security moved to stand in front of him. Jack and Maddie jumped up and glared at him.

“You’re not fooling anybody, ghost kid!” declared Jack. “You are going down!” He reached back and pulled out the Fenton fishing rod, the line was horribly tangled and Jack began messing with it. “As soon as I finish untangling this thing.”

Cassie let out a disbelieving huff.

Tim shook his head. “Apparently,” he replied to her unasked question. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Bart and Conner.

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

----

Next

And so the best of intentions go awry!

I can almost taste the end of this arc, but for all I know, that'll take another 10k to finish. So we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed.

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[underacalicosky]

Tag Game

I was tagged by @willameena and @starwalkertales a few weeks ago. ❤️ Thank you for thinking of me and I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to do this! 😭

A random niche pet peeve you have?

I have so many, it's hard to pick just one... I get annoyed when people do a shitty job parking their cars and it's so far over the line that the car next to them can't open their door. Yes, this has happened to me. When I was 8 months pregnant I had to ask a petite stranger to go in through my passenger side, crawl over to the drivers side, and pull my car out of the space for me.

The biggest animal I think I could take in a fight?

Hmm, I don't like the idea of fighting an animal. If I find a spider or bug in the basement, I'll yell for the cat to come save me. (He usually does.)

What color would you paint your kitchen if you were allowed to paint it any color?

This is boring, but I'd paint it white so that I could put up artwork or photos without worrying about the colors clashing with the walls. It's pale yellow right now and there's just kid art everywhere so it works. But I'd like some organization to it eventually.

Flamingo or swan?

I'm not emotionally invested in either... but I'll say swan.

Childhood TV show that had a strong influence on your childhood?

Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. It was so welcoming and comforting. He was so kind and he made me feel like I always had a friend. I loved the characters and the songs. The episode about the crayon factory was one of my favorites.

What would I wear to a costume party?

My default is a black cat. I put on a pair of black cat ears and wear a black shirt and black jeans. This is mostly because I'm too cheap to buy a real costume lol.

Something creative I'm working on or thinking on?

Not actively working on, but I have a couple WIPs that I'm thinking about.

Give a piece of advice you think people should know:

If someone tries to sell you on a great idea, ask them how. Anyone can come up with an idea, but not everyone can create a plan to make it come to fruition.

Tagging: It took me weeks to do this so I don't know who's already been tagged, so please consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play this game! ❤️

[ihni]

Okay so I read a fic (in another fandom) that made me think, and this morning I woke up with ready-made fic idea in my head which I will ABSOLUTELY NOT WRITE, I have too many WIPs already, so I'll just ... write it all out here and then hope that's enough to get it out of my head.

So! Harringroveson-ish. Very rough, train-of-thought style.

Imagine Eddie and Steve smoking together and hooking up on the regular, because they both live in a small town and it's difficult and risky to find another guy who's willing to fool around in small-town Hawkins. So they've been doing it for a while, and they have fun and like each other kind of a lot and are comfortable with each other and all even though they keep it on the downlow for obvious reasons.

And then Billy Hargrove rolls into town, and he's mesmerizing and both Steve and Eddie can't really keep away from him. But Billy's acting so über straight that surely, none of them have a chance, right? So they may talk about him when they're together (for the Thrill or Sexytimes of it, idk), but they don't really think they have a chance. Until they start realizing that Billy's eyes ... wanders, if he thinks no one is watching. So they start talking about it, about trying to see if they can seduce him to the gay side of Hawkins, and it's mostly a joke between them, to get the other riled up when they're together; talking about what they'd do to him if they could. Because Billy's always taking girls out, and he's got quite the reputation - SURELY he's got a lot of sexual experience and would be up for whatever, right?

And like, they both think that THEY'd be the one to succeed to sway Billy over. Steve thinks that since he's the former King Steve and plays sports with Billy and they hang out in the same circles, of course he'd have luck with the guy than Eddie, but Eddie claims that with the music Billy listens to and the car he's got, he's obviously got more in common with Eddie than Steve ...

So they make a bet. Mostly as a joke, but a bet nonetheless; Which one of them will bed Billy first?

Meanwhile, Billy is of course secretly gay and has been moved to a closed-minded town against his will by his abusive dad for being found out just kissing another boy, and even though he's secretly eyeing both the former King of Hawkins High and the King of the Freaks, he does not fool himself into thinking something will happen. He can't allow himself to show a single sign of his preferences. So he takes girls out on dates, a string of them, and he parties and he flirts and he wraps Hawkins around his thumb, and only shows the careful mask he has created, and not an ounce of the real Billy, because he wants to live until graduation, thank you very much.

He had planned to just keep his head above water and survive until he could get the hell out of town, but that gets increasingly difficult when the two guys who he's been eyeing start to approach him. Trying to be friends? Trying to throw him off? Or ... check out the competition? Billy's not sure what's going on here, but he knows it's messing with his mask and his composure. Harrington didn't use to play this hard in gym, did he? Rubbing up on Billy like he is, now. Didn't use to smile at him and talk to him and like, stretch out in the shower after practice. And Munson had kept his distance until then, so what's up with the way he suddenly appears whenever Billy's sneaking off for a smoke, offering a good price on weed and inviting Billy to see his band play?

So, Steve and Eddie do their best to seduce Billy, mostly as a challenge between the two of them, but when they notice that Billy gets flustered when they touch him or lets his gaze for a little too long when they do things like stretch or lick their lips and so on, they start to suspect that this could actually happen. It's not so far-fetched as they might have thought. So they talk, and find it very exhilerating to imagine that maybe they both actually stand a chance, here ... but of course, the bet is still on. Who will have him first?

Billy's only human. And gay. And desperately alone in this sea of people, since no one knows the real him. So he's falling for it, even if he's hesitant and afraid (because of Neil, because of what if this is an elaborate prank, and also partly because all that he's done with a boy thus far has been kissing (Your choice as to what he has actually done with girls)).

Maybe both Eddie and Steve are getting bolder, right about now. Putting the moves on Billy, so that there's no mistaking their intentions. And Billy is tempted, so very tempted - but also so very scared. He backs off, or draws back, or maybe stammeringly mentions that his dad would kill him if he found out. "He's not gonna find out," whoever is with him says, but Billy bites his lip. Hesitates. Shakes his head.

But like, of course, eventually one of them - Steve or Eddie, your pick - succeeds. Billy gives in, gives up, throws caution to the wind. He gets to sleep with at least one of his crushes, and it's GOOD, it's so much better than he could have ever imagined sex to be and he can't believe he's so lucky that he gets to have this.

And of course whoever won the bet is thrilled. Both because they got to fuck Billy (who they are realizing that they LIKE, just like they like their other boyfriend), but also because of the thrill of winning the bet. So after, directly after or the morning after, your choice, they hurry back to their boyfriend to gloat about their win. Maybe they have to look for him, though, so they don't find him right away. Because of course for PLOT REASONS we need Billy to be at that place, too - feeling light, happy, and for the first time not feeling like a prisoner in this town - and overhearing. Overhearing the gloating, the "I won our bet" and "yup, fucked him good" and the "he was so sweet, you should have seen him". And then, for added angst, of course Billy sees the two of them kissing, making out. Looking very busy and into each other.

Billy should be angry, but he's so shocked and gutted that he can't bring up even a spark of anger.

And I want them to spot him there. Realize, by the paleness of his face, that he heard every word. That he thinks they've used him, made fun of him - and they kind of HAVE. But when they break apart and turn horrified eyes on him, Billy turns and runs. They go after him, try to stop him, but oh THERE's that anger (bubbling up to hide the HURT), so he rips himself out of their grip and snarls at them not to TOUCH HIM. Maybe he yells at them, for using him and stringing him along and making him think he meant something when really he was just a pawn, just a game. Maybe he doesn't say ANYTHING, just blinks away tears and leaves. I don't know which is worse.

But he leaves, and they feel horrible. They realize that they fucked up BIG TIME, they should have approached this differently, they never should have made that bet. They talk (again) and realize that they actually DO both like him, and they want him with THEM, all three o f them together. They decide to try to make things right, somehow. Explain to Billy, grovel at his feet etc.

But oh, it's not that easy of course. Because Neil has gotten wind of Billy being seen with some boy (maybe a neighbor saw him when either Eddie or Steve reached for his hand or pressed a kiss to his cheek or something, in the late stages of the seduction), and he punishes Billy for it. Severly. Billy's home from school for a week, recovering. Steve and Eddie thinks he's avoiding them, but eventually put their foot down like, enough is enough, if he doesn't come to us we'll come to him, so they go to his house.

Thankfully, Neil isn't home. But Billy is. And when he opens the door, still black and blue, they are horrified. Billy is afraid that anyone will see them and tells them to go, and even scrapes up some anger and tells them that this is their fault, which shuts down their attempts at apologies, and then slams the door in their face.

Eddie and Steve do some more talking, maybe some minor stake-outs. Realizes that when Billy said his dad would kill him, he meant it, and if the man knew what Billy had done, Billy might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. They feel bad (as they should, and also because this is my fic and I live for the guilt).

In the end, I think they'd have to find a way to get Billy out of his abusive household, as a way to prove they are sorry, and that they're serious about him. Maybe they set something up to make sure Neil gets caught in the act, maybe they involve the police, maybe they blackmail the man or threaten him somehow. I don't care how. But they get Billy SAFE. And THEN they grovel. As they damn well should.

And I hope that eventually, they manage to convince Billy that in fact, they were BOTH into him from the start, and the bet was just a way for them to dare to act on it. They both wanted him, with them both. And they still want him.

And maybe Billy might just be lonely enough to eventually believe them.

[landinrris]

☔️ and 🌧️

👀👀👀hehe

I do love some good mid-plot angst 👀👀👀

Ask me about my wips!

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP. This is from the Lando PR fic, also titled A Matter of Perspective because I love a double meaning. This is also a full-fledged snippet but every angst scene is too long, so just have the whole thing of this one

When Max and Pietra get into town on Wednesday afternoon for the race weekend, Lando expects Carlos’ run of form to continue. They’re due to get dinner together for the first time in nearly a month, Lando feeling just a bit giddy at the prospect of seeing one of his best friends again for the first time in what feels like a stupid amount of time.

Carlos doesn’t say anything about their evening plans until later that afternoon.

“Do we know where we are going for dinner?” Carlos asks, walking into the living room. He’s busy toweling his hair dry, goosebumps immediately rising on Lando’s arms at the thought of what his own hair would do if he did that now.

He shakes himself and looks down at his phone where Max had texted him Pietra’s idea while Carlos was in the shower.”Uh, Max said Pietra wanted to try this new place. I mapped it, and it’s not too far from here. Near that new highrise they just finished building. Apparently, it’s all the rage and she needs to get her plug in.”

Lando looks up in Carlos’ direction when he doesn’t get an immediate response and sees Carlos looking uneasy. His hand has frozen with the towel against his head, looking like he’s glitched or something.

“Have you heard bad things? I’ve only heard about it like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Do we have to go to this one?” Carlos asks. He seems to reset, returning to drying his hair before draping the towel around his neck.

Lando’s not sure he knows what’s going on, feeling like he’s missing something fairly obvious. “I mean, I guess I can suggest somewhere else. Why, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just so public, no? That new highrise is down near the casino and the coast. Lots of people and shopping and things.” Lots of cameras, he doesn’t say. The pieces click into place in Lando’s mind, and he sucks in a steadying breath. 

“I mean, yeah, but all the good spots are out there. You didn’t have an issue being down there the other day when we were with everyone.” Lando thought Carlos was over whatever stick had been up his ass, but maybe that was wishful thinking after all.

“But that was with other people— a group. This wasn’t what looked like a…”

“Like a date?” Lando finishes. “Carlos, we’re still gonna be with people, what are you talking about? It’s not like we’re both dressing up and going somewhere one-on-one and telling everyone what we are. It’s Max and P for God’s sake.”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice because he knows how skittish Carlos is about other people outside their circles knowing about them. Hell, Lando feels the same, ultimately. But there’s something about Carlos seemingly not even willing to go out to a casual dinner with Max and Pietra. If Lando was interested in a boyfriend who only paid attention to him while there was foolproof plausible deniability, he wouldn’t have given Carlos a key to his flat.

Carlos flinches subtly, but that’s one downfall with them— they know each other so well that Lando clocks the movement from where he’s sitting on the sofa. “Yes, but we will be with two other people who are in a relationship. We will look like we are on a double date, and with all the people who will recognize everyone hanging around waiting to get pictures, Lando can we not go somewhere else, please?”

Lando’s annoyance cracks at Carlos’ pleading, his eyes wide with anxiety. It’s not Carlos’ fault that he feels like this, and yet Lando can’t help but be annoyed with him anyway. He doesn’t want to lock all of his personal life behind the doors of their flat or whatever hotel room they’re in for the weekend.

He bites his lip and looks down at his phone for a few seconds. How many times would they get away with going out together before people seriously asked questions? How close are they to that point now that the broad world knows Carlos’ permanent residence is Monaco? Maybe they should be more careful considering Lando’s privacy is so lacking that someone could pretty accurately map out the days he’s in the country based on when his photo is taken. 

And yet… he’s not ready to let fear of social media completely rule his life. “Pietra really wants to go to this restaurant, my hands are tied. If you’re so afraid then don’t come, I guess.” He pushes himself up from the sofa, his throat tight with a mix of sadness and frustration. He barely looks at Carlos as he walks past him and into the direction of his room. “I’ll just see you when I get home and we’ll do dinner another night or something.”

“Lando, really? You are going to do this?” Carlos calls after him sounding like Lando’s the one who’s being unreasonable here. 

Lando rounds on Carlos where he’s standing in the doorway. “I’m scared too, Carlos! But that doesn’t mean I want to put my life on hold, yeah? If you don’t want to come out tonight because you think the internet is suddenly and unironically going to think we’re on a double date, then I can’t help you. I’m gonna go to dinner with my friends I haven’t seen in a month, and I’ll just see you when I get home. Maybe we can have dinner together in public again when we’re in Barcelona for the race in a few weeks and you decide that’s okay.” He doesn’t mean to blow up and promptly storm away, shutting the door in the hallway leading to his bedroom a bit harder than he’d meant to, but he does and he’s not big enough to immediately apologize for it yet.

He only has about forty-five minutes until he’s meant to meet Max and Pietra anyway. Plenty of time to get in the shower and pretend he doesn’t let a few tears slip from his eyes in anger. He should’ve said something to Carlos when he noticed the pattern last week— when Carlos decided he wanted to whisk Lando up into the surrounding villages outside of Imola for “an authentic dinner” without a care as to the rest of the world. 

Instead, he’d let it fester. He’d taken Carlos’ attention as freely as he’d been given it— taken the kisses Carlos had pressed to his lips pressed against the car door before opening it like a gentleman and letting Lando climb into the passenger seat.

The issue is Monaco and the public eye— a detrimental detail they've likely realized too late if they have any hope of surviving until they're ready to come out on their own terms. 

Carlos doesn’t come and check on him in the half hour it takes Lando to get ready. With all of Carlos’ belongings in Lando’s bedroom and bathroom, the lack of his presence sends as strong of a message as anything. They’re both at a stalemate, and Lando’s a little afraid of where they go from here.

He pokes his head into the living room as he’s about to leave and sees Carlos seated on the sofa where Lando had been earlier scrolling resolutely through his phone. The towel is still around his neck, his feet propped up on the coffee table like he’s casually and calmly waiting for Lando to be finished in the bathroom.

The sight does complicated things to Lando’s stomach.

“I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.”

Carlos looks up from his phone, a carefully controlled expression on his face that does nothing good for Lando’s stomach. “Okay. I will see you later. Have fun.”

Lando fishes for something to say, and upon coming up with nothing, turns and walks out the front door.

---

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

I really feel like the Lando to Red Bull fic that I picked up from a fic fest was a missed opportunity that I let slip through my fingers right at the edge of McLaren going from zeros to heroes back in Summer 2023. Basically, the prompt was that Carlos was at Ferrari still, and Lando makes the jump to Red Bull after giving up on McLaren. They aren’t together romantically yet, but they're both mega hardcore pining and just being Them. They get into a few scrapes, and Lando begins to think Carlos hates him now that they’re battling much more directly across teams. Meanwhile, Carlos is just pulling away because he’s struggling to hide his feelings. Lando getting to show what he's capable of is too addicting, and he doesn't trust himself like he once could.

But McLaren literally went from being like 6th/7th fastest team to 3rd/4th in one race weekend, and with it went all the inspiration for me to want Lando to leave McLaren 😅. I would love to potentially rework this somehow. Maybe have it be that Lando's rise in McLaren puts him and Carlos much more on that level playing field, so you still end up with the false angst with them both properly at the front. We shall see maybe... the PR fic the previous angst scene is from might have enough angst for awhile.

[greendragonqueen]

Mergana Week Day 2: "Heartache"

"I don't care for the fates of the others. All I care for is yours, my love."

~

A WIP of an AU crossover idea I had, crossing Dungeons And Dragons lore with Merlin. Inspired off of dicecreamsandwich's campaign idea on Tiktok, which he explains in this video here (the video is called "The Pursuit of A Raven's Feather" if the link doesn't work).

In a world very much unlike the one we know, a branch grown long before ours was but a twinkle in the stars, a Lady Morgana finds the love of her life in the court sorcerer, Merlin. A man she knew was destined to do great things, and who she knew her own destiny was eternally tied to. Together they learned magic, delving deep into the very threads of the world more than any sorcerer or warlock has or ever will. Together, they would work to bring peace to their world, and she would do it while looking into her love's smile.

Alas, fate had plans of her own, and magic cannot stop her seemingly cruel indifference. Despite Morgana's best efforts, her Merlin was taken from her far too soon, unable to achieve his destiny. Leaving her all alone, the weight of their shared destiny in her palms. A useless endeavor in her eyes, without her Merlin by her side. Her true fate had been revealed, to spend the rest of her life without her other half, failing right at the cusp of greatness.

But no.

Driven by despair and an unwillingness to accept such a fate for herself, Morgana dived into magic further. More, more, more. She creates spells no other magic user could think. She unbalances the natural order. She does what no one has done before her: she tears a hole in reality, and steps through. There, on an indescribable plane, like the surface of water packed with soap bubbles, she finds other worlds, other realities, just like her own, and with them other Merlin's. Her Merlin's.

But fates finger is cruel and vengeful, and every single Merlin she settles down with passes far too soon. No matter what she does, when she finds him, whether he is a king or a manservant, young or old, with magic or no. Whether it is in the unrecorded past, the familiar present, or the ever fluid future. Merlin passes far too soon, unable to achieve his Destiny. Like her touch is a curse, her fate, set in stone. He will be ripped from her arms no matter how many times she tries.

But Morgana cannot accept that. She will not accept that. She has given up far too much, torn apart too many worlds, to accept such a fate. She would not accept such a mundane, cruel fate for herself or for Merlin.

Time passes, her power continues to grow. Finally, the Gods notice her. The Old Gods, the ones whose power stretches beyond every dimension. Her anger towards them is incalculable, but one catches her wrath most of all.

The Raven Queen. The Goddess of Death, Winter, and Fate. The real decider of who lives and who dies, when, how, and why. A horrid truth comes to light. Destiny is merely a mortal forged promise, The Raven Queen supplies the Gods given truth.

And Morgana will not accept that truth. There is no line she will not cross, no law she will not break, no person she will not kill, to change that truth. To take The Raven's Queen's mantle and to change every Merlin's fate.

It is a brutal battle, world's fall, but this Morgana's wrath eclipses the Raven Queen's indifference. The old Raven Queen is gone, and a new one is crowned.

But such a crown weighs heavy on the brow that bears it. Choosing the fate of every person who has ever lived and ever going to live in every universe is a truly heavy burden. To know that she chooses how every version of the loved ones she knew would die, is a great burden on the soul. It tarnishes the one who carries the weight, it tarnishes everything that person touches, it breaks everything Morgana is bound to. She suddenly understands why the previous Raven Queen had been so indifferent to Morgana's painful fate; because that was the only way even a goddess can cope with such a burden.

But despite the weight, this Morgana keeps the ship running, her singular promise, while changed and faded, still burns resolute in her heart. Burning like the last flame that holds her to her old Mortal life, glowing like the crystal that now held her first loved one's body. Eternally at peace, his fate unable to be changed. The only thing she can touch in her now incorporeal form.

Her Merlins will not die, because she wishes it so. Even if it means he will continue to make mistakes, even if it means he won't achieve his destiny, even if it means his friends and loved ones die, even if it means he will never love a version of her again, even if every single version of herself will inevitably be tainted or turned evil because of her influence and actions… not a single Merlin will die without The Raven Queen's permission.

And so it shall be, until some rends from her hands the very same crown she had worked so hard to take before.

[doonarose]

WIP fic under the cut. I'm still in a dark as fuck mood and this lacks porn but has them well-position to start making out soon (which is always my actual motivation). I'm sure I'll delete it later, tidy it up and throw it onto AO3 at some point. But fuck it, I wrote something even though I knew a giant slab of fandom will find it morally reprehensible.

They end up human.

God is in the bookshop. She looks decidedly human except for all the ways She definitely doesn’t. And heaven and hell are not… anywhere. Both Crowley and Aziraphale had felt the cosmic shift in the universe several moments earlier that signalled the very sudden and absolute dissolution and disappearance of a whole lot of celestial bureaucratic… stuff.

The Book of Life has also zapped itself out of existence and even as Aziraphale recognises the lack of book in his hands, he’s forgetting what precisely his fingers are flexing to find.

“You’ve done well, Crowley and Aziraphale.” God says without opening Her mouth (because, technically, she does not have one).

Beside him, and quite before Aziraphale has managed a coherent thought let alone a planned and rational response for the omniscient, omnipotent being before them, Crowley is spluttering and swaying and yelling: “We’ve? Done? WELL?”

God does not respond to that. Or rather, She does but it’s with such a momentous transfer of acknowledgement, clarity and wit, entirely lacking in words or even images, that Crowley sways further on his feet before taking a stumbled step backwards. He falls silent.

Aziraphale has never seen Crowley look meek and it distracts him for a moment from staring at God.

Eventually Crowley recovers. “No more heaven?” he asks, sounding as shocked as Aziraphale feels. “No more hell? But you – ”

“Correct.”

“I don’t understand,” he says with a broken, exhausted voice that cracks Aziraphale’s heart open. They’ve been fighting – each other and everyone and everything for too long and now it’s just… over?

God remains infuriatingly tranquil. “It is not for you to understand.” Again without speaking, but She smiles and gives off the impression of tilting her head as though conversing with a very young child about things they are not ready to comprehend.

“Just like that, it’s over?” Crowley presses and steps closer to Aziraphale’s side.   

The angel has balled his hands into fists and is still trying to formulate an acceptable thought to vocalize to the Messiah.

“Just like that,” God agrees.

“And I suppose this was all part of Your plan.”

“It has happened. So, yes.” She seems to grin, a little manically. “Obviously,” She… teases.

Crowley lets out a rattling, exasperated, exhausted breath and Aziraphale steps forward to stop him from arguing further with God. He tries very hard to look God in the eye and fails for the expected reasons (far too many eyes to choose from). “Of course,” Aziraphale readily agrees. “And we wish only to assist and support the great ineffable plan, absolutely, your…” his voices disappears as he scrambles with an acceptable honorific. “Your great and all powerful holiness.”

Aziraphale feels like he’s going to throw up.

Crowley has found his voice again, having had another thought and daring to ask another blasted question. “But we’re denizens of heaven and hell,  shouldn’t we be…” he trails off as Aziraphale looks at him sharply and closes the last of the distance between them to bump the back of Crowley’s hand with his own.

Thankfully, God seems to be amused and with a rush of overwhelming feeling Aziraphale is suddenly acutely and specifically reminded of every single instance of his time on Earth. The sparking whiplash of a million memories being fired instantaneously across his temporal lobe makes his teeth grind together and his jaw ache. He can tell just be looking that Crowley is experienced the same.

Perhaps most ridiculously, God’s expression, insofar as she has one, turns contrite. “Apologies, those corporations can be so unwieldy.” She considers the pair of them, allowing a moment’s recovery. “Not, strictly speaking, denizens of heaven or hell though, was my point.”

They seem to fall into a sort of stalemated silence after that. God beaming beatifically, ever-patient but still troublingly imposing. It makes Aziraphale fidget and worry and want very badly for this to be over.

Crowley, it seems, still has questions, opening his mouth to ask but God’s not-words beat him to it. “You’re not the only ones, you know. All has been taken care of. As planned.”

Crowley almost manages to interrupt Her. “Well that’s bloody cryptic. What about all the other angels?”

Muriel!

“Some have found their humanity, some have moved on, some never were.” She considers Crowley carefully, her smile affectionate. “Muriel is well, you’ll see.”

“I’ll actually see or I just have to trust that it’s ineffable?” he all but snarls.

God, quite resoundingly and not particularly helpfully, agrees and Crowley seems to have to accept it against his own will.

“And what about you two?” God knowingly asks.

Aziraphale swallows. “I quite like existing.” He manages to get two of Crowley’s fingers into his palm, wrapping his hand around them and holding on. “Crowley does as well.”

“With the humans,” God agrees. “As denizens of Earth.”

The breath seems to go out of Crowley and his shoulder hunch up and his free hand raises to pull his glasses off his face. “It’s really all over?” he says, his voice carrying resigned, exhausted hope. “No Armageddon, no second coming. The world’s not going to end and people are just going to be free?”

“For at least a couple billion years,” She says. “Is that not what you wanted?”

“To be free?” Crowley asks and Aziraphale’s grip around his fingers tightens again. “Is it possible?”

“All things are possible,” God tells them and Crowley finally looks up at her. “And Earth and its people are free of angels and demons and all their interference. You saw to that.”

The corners of Crowley’s eyes crease up and he shakes Aziraphale’s hand away. “So, we would have to be…”

“There are no more angels and no more demons.”

“But we could be – ”

“It’s already done,” She says gently.

Aziraphale hasn’t quite caught up yet, he’s still processing the idea of everything being free. Free will and freedom and a couple billion more years before whatever is next in the Ineffable Plan. That’s quite a long time.

Crowley lets out a rattling, shocked gasp of a breath and it makes Aziraphale look away from God and towards him.

Crowley is staring back with bright brown eyes that are getting brighter in God’s illumination as they well up with tears that Crowley is quick to blink back.

“Your eyes,” Aziraphale says before he can think better of it. “They’re the same as when you were – ”

“Human,” Crowley interjects. “She’s leaving us human.”

“Oh.” The enormity of that hits Aziraphale hard in the core of his chest. His heart speeds up and he tries to reckon with whether it feels different now that he’s not an angel. The thought alone aches like nothing he’s felt before.

“Humans could never truly be free of celestial interference if celestial entities walked amongst them. You know that, that’s what you wanted for them.”

“We wouldn’t have to interfere,” Crowley argues. “No more miracles or temptations. We’d just leave them alone.” Crowley trails off as God rolls Her eyes at a galactic scale.  

Aziraphale digs his manicured fingernails into the exposed flesh of his wrist and then stares down at the ruddy crescent indentations. He wills them away but they are fading slowly, humanly. He could go further, draw blood, and then he’d simply have to get a plaster for it.

“We’re going to die,” he realizes.

“Six thousand bloody years and two Armageddons and you’re giving us fifty years?” Crowley is also staring at the nail indentations on Aziraphale’s arm.

God snorts in a very unladylike manner. “Thirty-five years, maybe. Neither of you has taken particularly good care of these corporations and they’re rather aged. So, let’s say forty years if you’re lucky. You’ll should stop drinking so much, too. And take up pilates. Or yoga.”

Crowley stares at her and Aziraphale starts wringing his hands again. “You can’t really expect us both to just… die! How would one even – There’s no heaven!” Aziraphale can feel himself panicking, heart speeding up even further, sweat breaking out across his forehead and down the back of his neck and there’s no miracles to fix it. “What about all the people dying and we got rid of heaven!”

God shushes him and her own ethereal power washes over him a warm, lavender-scented bath. With candlelight and a good book and a foot rub. He lets out a sigh of relief that he hasn’t earned at all and feels terrible about relaxing.

“Souls remain eternal,” God says. “And death has always been the next great adventure after life.”

“Yes, but what is it?” Aziraphale demands. “The afterlife if it isn’t heaven?”

She grins and Aziraphale’s sneaking suspicion over the last six millennia that it was never heaven solidifies. Aziraphale never once even saw a human soul there.

“Unless you choose to take a short cut, you’ll find out in forty odd years.” She’s teasing again. “Until then it’s – ” she pauses for dramatic effect, long enough for Crowley to let out an incoherent noise of frustration and bewilderment before both he and Aziraphale say along with her (unmoving, unspeaking, unreal lips) – “Ineffable.”

Simultaneously there’s the distinct impression of Her laughing at the entirety of humankind – which now, rather shockingly, includes Crowley and Aziraphale and several other past-Celestials (but that’s another story) – along with Her sudden and complete absence from the universe.

It’s a creepy feeling that Aziraphale tries to miracle into submission out of habit. Then he looks at Crowley and says the first thing that comes to mind. “I think I will kind of miss the yellow.”

Crowley looks at him like he’s stark-raving mad before blinking stupidly into the quiet of the bookshop and the regularity of London sounds coming from just beyond.

Aziraphale clears his through and flexes his hands at his sides. “What do you suppose we do now, then?”

Crowley is still staring at him. “Absolutely no idea, angel. We’ve got thirty-five years assuming neither one of us gets hit by a bus or gets cancer or… or bird flu, for fuck’s sakes. What could we possibly get done in under four decades?” he shakes his head and sticks his hands deep into the too-small pockets of his dark jeans. “I don’t know what we do.”

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone! It's another Wednesday <3 Thank you to @changelingsandothernonsense for tagging me (love the Josh and Erra updates) I'm tagging @lady-iizsil @dirty-bosmer @theoneandonlysemla @thequeenofthewinter (you've already since this snippet oops) @lucien-lachance

This is a part of a much dark part 2 to this fic, my depraved Thalmor Embassy shenanigans. So this snippet features mentions of things in that fic including: sex, blackmail, voyeurism, the glove (iykyk). Under the cut also has mentions of torture, murder (as speculations) and Rulidnil being even worse (that's definitely present). So yeah, MDNI and read if you're cool with that. Anyways time to tease the horror. Chapter 1 is done and currently being edited, expect to see it soon~ its 6k OOPS

“Theodora.” She almost snaps her neck with how quick her gaze finds him. How did one of them know her name… she had only met one other male Thalmor… Akatosh preserve me. With each step inching closer, her body tenses as the suspicious are concerned. 

“Ah, Rulindil.” She grits her teeth. “Fancy running into you here.” 

It was none other than the mer who used them for sexual blackmail, first listening into their conversation and other activities at the Embassy, and then demanding to watch them engage in more of these activities. That had been his compromise after being told he could not fuck her himself. Originally Theodora had told Ondolemar she would have done it just to shut him up, but after meeting him, she could see his concerns were not unfounded. Her lover had told her all about how he ended up in the position he occupied now, how his life experiences lead him to serve the Dominion and of how he was harbouring severe doubts. Many of which had come from knowing her. With Elenwen, she could see that although she could be cruel, having been a torturer during the Great War, she understood there were multiple ways to solve a problem. Violence was not the only way to get information, treating people well, good wine and good food, could do wonders and was far easier than bleeding them out. The Ambassador was firm, but fair; at least as far as the Thalmor went. 

She didn’t see any of that in Rulindil. Interrogation was not his job, it was his passion. I enjoy making people scream he had told her. Enjoy. There was this pit in her stomach thinking about the fact that even if he was not in the Thalmor, he would likely still be doing that very thing. Perhaps he would be not unlike the Butcher in Windhelm, carving up all manner of people to just hear the sounds they made dying. The screams of those she killed during the war made their way into her nightmares sometimes. How anyone could desire such a sound she hoped to never understand. From the way he shook her hand, less shaking it than grabbing her wrist, grip lingering too long that the mere memory of it caused her to shudder; to the way his sexual degeneracy had no bounds. Stealing a glove that had been inside her. She hoped it was just a trophy, but the sinister look in his gaze now told her that that was decidedly untrue.

“I am freed from the confines of the Embassy for a few nights. Many of us are here, I believe Ondolemar is having a solo meeting with our lovely Ambassador.” Slight panic washes over her face at that. The dark chuckle that comes from him unsettles her even more. “Oh no, it’s not like that, I haven’t said anything. Seems he's been especially productive to the cause lately and is currently getting a rare bout of praise from Elenwen. Isn’t he lucky?” She smiles, happy to hear he’s okay and so that Rulindil stays friendly until she can leave this conversation. 

“Very lucky indeed.” She clears her throat, stance facing towards the Temple. “Wonderful to see you again” she lied “but I’m afraid I must be going, I’ve got plans.” 

“Your plans don’t include him do they, unless you’re all dressed up for someone else?”

“No, not him nor anyone else. Just going to have some drinks and do a bit of dancing.”

“Perhaps I will join you.” He smirks as he says this, enjoying the uncomfortable look on her face. 

“I was planning to go to the tavern here. The Skeever, and I don’t think you’d like to be seen in public with me, least of all places in a grubby Nord tavern.”

“Hmm.” She continues smiling. “Well, you own property here, don’t you? Why don’t we return there instead?” The smile falters. 

“How do you know I own property here?” His hand reaches for her hair, she forwent her normal circlet for some wildflowers, to match the embroidery on the new dress. One of the flowers is plucked from her. It twirls between his fingers.

“I know a lot about you.” 

“Ondolemar said you were… satisfied.” 

“I am satisfied with him, I never said anything about you.” Chest tightens. 

“I’ll tell him, you must know that.” Another sick laugh from him made her nauseous. 

“And what will he do? Harming a fellow agent is grounds for extreme discipline. Killing me would be certain death. There would be nothing he could do that wouldn’t result in more eyes being drawn to you. Not everyone will be as kind as me.” Kind. The word makes her nauseous. There’s an audible gulp. “All I want is a little time with you, Theodora. Why can he have that and not me?” She wants to tell him why, all the reasons Ondolemar is leagues above him, in every manner from their organization to her affections. But upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.  

“I suppose you’re right. There’s no harm in a few glasses of wine.”

[lizardperson]

lizardwriting wrapped 2024

because this whole thing deserves a little yearly review too...

after not writing anything for the public in sooo many years, i actually wrote quite a lot this year. only had to overcome the initial feeling of "cringe omg i can't post that 😬", and now have lost all shame and am enjoying myself immensely, subjecting the world to my bullshit. i think i actually improved quite a bit over the whole year.

AO3 STATS [link]

28 works 48,102 words total 18x ocworld: 17 short bits + 5 chapters Dark Lights, Shine Loud 7x fallout: 6 of those Courier Mika including 20 oneshot chapters Come All Sufferers (#fnv au) 2x star trek disco

---

SPOTLIGHT some points stolen from this list

.characters i thought most about: mika - light of my life, bane of my existence. the ultimate blorbo from my brain, bouncing around in there 24/7. she's terrible and i love her so much. (#mika tag) gabriel - grew SO MUCH this year, mostly thanks to the silly little fallout au. i have a lot of thoughts but not enough words. i love him so much. (#gabriel tag) special mention: fiona - what started out as daria's nameless dead backstorywife somehow turned into an actual character that has been living in my brain now extensively. little miss tortured poet. i love her. (#fiona tag)

.favorite title And there are days like this, too because it's the perfect throwback to the kinda-first part 4261 days. and i wasn't even the one who came up with it, that was @voidthing special mention: The Hills Have Eyebots. because it's just funny.

.favorite opening line

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mika cursed when her can of energy drink let out the familiar hiss of danger. Despite her best efforts and a few quick sips, she still managed to spill some of it on herself and the couch. Great, another point for Nic's long list of things to be pissed about. As if the general mood in this apartment hadn't been shitty enough those last few weeks. Oh well, let her bitch then. [Dark Lights, Shine Loud]

is it my best line? nah, far from it. is it the perfect introduction to Mika? hell yea - cursing, consuming caffeine, and making a mess. what more do you need to know lmao. i just really like that one, still. the whole first chapter, actually.

.favorite piece of dialogue

"You didn't answer my question - you think we're doing the right thing here?" "Yes." There was not a bit of doubt in his voice. "You believe in our stupid plan?" "I believe in you." [Doing The Right Thing]

just sums up the whole fallout au and their dynamic so well, and also *clutches chest*

special shoutout to the close second, the "I'm not a lesbian" bit in In Whiskey Veritas

and another special shoutout to the last bit of Left My Heart In The Sierra Madre because. T_T

.favorite ending line

Falling in love with her best friend was such a bad idea, July thought, and yet she didn't know how not to. [Viola sororia]

it's so sappy. but 🥺🥺🥺

close second for a completely different vibe:

Freud would probably have something to say about distracting yourself from your shitty mother by sleeping with a woman roughly that same age. Good thing Freud was dead. [Mommy issues]

.favorite text overall 4261 days i still think this is the best thing i've written. for someone who does not have particularly much experience with grief in general, i really really like writing a lot about it somehow...

---

OUTLOOK 2025

the big multi chapter thingies are very far up my to do list, but yknow how it is with adhd brains - ohhh lets do that quick short text first, and that one, and that one *procrastinates the big ones*

BUT that is the plan:

. finally getting some more chapters into Dark Lights, Shine Loud. there are a bunch lying around as first drafts, but they still need some work. soonTM

. continuing the way-too-ambition plotheavy heistthing What Happens In Reno, Stays In Reno after those first few intro chapters. this requires an extensive brainstorming session to get the actual plot hammered together.

. the shiny new wip that i am itching for (because shiny and new), because it's gonna be a bit different in various ways so that makes it excitingTM

....and of course just continuing to write, overall. gonna keep my #fff streak up.

---

SPECIAL THANKS

@voidthing for basically being my secret co-author. always improves the quality by SO MUCH and is the bestest anyway 💕💕💕

the whole @flashfictionfridayofficial community - turns out a regular thing is really good to get a habit going, and also y'all are so nice and cool and just 💕💕💕

everybody who reads my stuff of course :D yes, i mostly write for myself, but of course it's always awesome if someone else likes my bullshit 🙏

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Get to Know Your Author

Get to know your author

Tagged by @kleenexwoman

1 How many works on AO3?

171

2 Total AO3 word count?

984,743

3 Top 5 fics by kudos?

Far away you were made in a sea just like me Pt 1 of Hemispheres. This was supposed to be a Loki/Tony one-shot, and haha fooled me, it's turned into a long WIP that I will eventually finish when my brain is willing to cooperate.

Supernaut Part 1 of Light a candle, light a motive. This, too, was supposed to be a one-shot and somehow turned into a WIP of individual fics that are connected by universe but not necessarily being written in order. This is Loki/Tony with a side character of Nebula. The other ships include Bucky/Steve, Thor/Darcy, Bruce/Jane, Clint/Nat. Yes, it's pre and post-Endgame, yes it is a fix-it. It even has Morgan, but uh. She's not Tony and Pepper's. She's still Tony's...just not Pepper's.

(Mis)Understanding and a No-Good Woman One of my first fics posted up to AO3. Scott Summers/Logan. Logan doesn't understand personal space in the bathroom of a bar.

Hey Jealousy Takes place during Thor Ragnarok. It's an exchange between Loki and Bruce involving Bruce wearing Tony's way too tight jeans and Loki's not happy reaction to Bruce being in Tony's pants. It always surprises me that this one is as popular as it is.

A spirit with a vision (Is a dream with a mission) Part 2 of Hemispheres.

4 What fandoms do you write for?

Marvel - not just MCU but kind of all of Marvel. Comic'verse, Fox X-Men 'verse, MCU. Kind of all over the place. I have dabbled in Stranger Things and will want to eventually do more Steddie for that - I have some more planned, just not written yet. I've done one tiny Hannibal drabble, but as much as I love the series, I don't see me writing more for it. I'd love to eventually try my hand at some other series or movies I love (Peaky Blinders? Maybe? American Gods, perhaps. Versailles? That would be a challenge but fun. Velvet Goldmine - I still have an idea for that that I've had since Livejournal days, but I just have never written it).

5 Do you respond to comments?

Always.

6 Fic with the angstiest ending?

This is going to be a toss-up between:

Got a telephone call from Istanbul Tony + Rhodey, a variety of telephone conversations between them, and the last time Rhodey's on the phone talking to Tony.

and

You are the ghost behind my eyes Steve/Tony, post-Endgame, Steve returning to the past and finding out just why he shouldn't have done that.

and

Sunset Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., during the Framework episodes, this is Framework Grant Ward, Framework Antoine Triplett, and Framework Holden Radcliffe in the last moments on the beach before the Framework is completely erased.

and

Time After Time Fox X-Men'verse, Scott Summers/Logan, meshing together X-Men 3 and The Wolverine (the second one, not the Origin movie).

7 Fic with the happiest ending?

I write almost exclusively happy endings, so I'm not really sure which I could consider my happiest ending. Perhaps my readers should chime in and tell me what they think my happiest ending is.

8 Do you get hate?

I did once on a fic - it's a Steve/Loki fic that also has a side order of Winteriron, and I was told by stuckygirl that she hoped I was raped and that I should kill myself. Then on the first chapter of Part 3 Hemispheres, I was told that clearly I'd abandoned the fic (by some other random person who'd been praising all the other parts of this series) and that was "too bad." Even though I'd already told this reader that I was still working on the fic but slowly. Not really hate, but the bitch still annoyed me with that.

9 Do you write smut?

I do. Not a ton of it most of the time, but I do write it, but I imagine it's not overly popular smut because I don't write BDSM or fetishes or omegaverse or any of that stuff. 10 Have you ever co-written a fic?

Actually I've co-written a couple of fics with @scottxlogan. We even have two we're in the middle of co-writing (but I need to do my part on both of them, I think - or at least one of them, but my brain has been so muddy lately for writing that I'm behind on writing as well as reading all the fics I want to read, and I hate that).

Falling in love as the world falls down Scott/Logan, a Secret Santa gift for @cerylid Mission gone wrong, Emma (and others) save the day.

The course of true love never did run smooth Scott/Logan, Loki/Tony, only it doesn't start out that way. Two couples on the outs who think to make each other jealous. Once again, Emma comes in and saves the day. Sort of. This one is a personal favorite, especially with all the Midsummer Night's Dream quotes as chapter titles.

The two we're working on very slowly - one is a Bucky/Loki Veterinarian AU, Alpine features heavily. The other is huge, Pride-themed, Scott/Logan, Loki/Emma, Tony/Steve/Bucky...and so many other characters involved. We'll definitely have to break this one into chapters, but it's fun.

11 All time favorite ship?

No. I have too many favorite ships, and I multi-ship, so I can't really pick a favorite.

12 WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All American Barbecue. It's a reactive piece to Bendis' Avengers vs. X-Men. Sort of...AvX Meets Wicker Man and it's not going to have a happy ending for Steve Rogers.

13 Writing strengths?

Humor, Fluff, Descriptions, and Easter Eggs.

14 Writing weaknesses?

Finishing shit in a timely fashion due to lack of brain juice.

Tagging @scottxlogan, @soliloquent-stark, @fohatic, @stormxpadme, @loni4ever, @darsynia, @chaoticgardenbread, @meidui, @gold-from-straw and anyone else who wants to play!