#this one is actually complete I just felt like I got stuck editing it and never felt like it was exactly the way I wanted it

[sun-daisies]

fic snippet | mcu | monsters of men

since ao3 is down for who knows how long I figured I’d dig through some abandoned wips and post some snippets of fics I love but never got to share. feel free to do this too - we can keep each other going until ao3 is back up and running!

Once upon a time, an American hero shielded the world from evil. 

Once upon a time, an iron soldier rose from certain death as a new man. 

Once upon a time, the god of thunder came to Earth. 

Once upon a time, a marksman joined the military.  

Once upon a time, a monster and an assassin chose a different path. 

Once upon a time, aliens rained down on New York and once upon a time, machines gained sentience and once upon a time, a Titan wiped out half of humanity and every single time, the heroes vanquished the bad guys. 

-

Stories don’t end where they should, wrapped up in a neat little bow, all loose ends tied up and everyone smiling happily together as they walk into the sunset. You want a happy ending. You want to watch the underdog rise to the occasion and achieve their destiny. You want glory and grandeur. You want something extraordinary. 

You want a band of larger than life champions coming together to save the world, and you want the happy ending. 

That’s not what happens. 

Once upon a time, a bunch of misfits, human at their core, made mistakes. Argued. Lost everything. 

Died. 

-

Natasha fights. She fights for freedom, she fights for justice, she fights for her family, she fights for the world. Maybe she fights for herself, too - maybe she wants to prove that there’s something good in her worth fighting for. 

(She’s tired of fighting.) 

But when the air chills and the ground is hundreds of feet below her, she doesn’t fight her own death. It’s as simple as letting go, and when it comes down to it, she can’t think of a reason to dig her heels in. 

(Somewhere across the universe, her sister screams until her throat is raw.) 

-

And Wanda died somewhere in Sokovia a couple decades prior, buried under the ashes of her childhood home. Or maybe she died in her Hydra cell. Or maybe she died fighting Ultron; at the Raft; at the hands of Thanos. 

(The stench of blood follows her everywhere she goes, the bodies trail behind her. And when she returns home, what does she have left?)

Regardless, she hides her grief behind laugh tracks and smiles for applause. She is nothing but a character pretending to be what they need her to be. Maybe someday she’ll get to write her own story.

- 

There’s a mournful stillness as Pepper sets a wreath of flowers adrift on the lake, crowned with Tony Stark’s own heart. His daughter watches with huge, watery eyes, and Pepper holds onto her like she might slip away at any moment. 

Perhaps they will drown in Tony’s absence. He saved the world, but the empty space he left in doing so is too great. He was a husband. A father. A friend. Iron Man. 

This is the fate of heroes - to fight, to lose, to die. They signed up for this. 

(None of us ever wanted this, Clint thinks bitterly.) 

- 

Peter still has that optimistic smile, hope glimmering in his eyes. He’s probably kinder than any of them have ever deserved, and surprisingly light on his feet for someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

His hands are tainted in blood long washed away and he’s surrounded by ghosts. He feels he’s lived a hundred years despite being gone for five. And all eyes are on him, watching, waiting to see what he does next. 

(He could never be Iron Man and he can barely be Spiderman but Peter Parker isn’t enough, either.)

He can still try. 

-

Once upon a time, the heroes sat around a table at a party, giddy and elated, making fun of each other the way that friends do. The world stops for a moment and they allow themselves the little luxuries for once. 

It won’t last. Aliens have rained down from the sky and they will come again. Sentient machines will rise and throw morality to the wind. Half of humanity will disintegrate, and five long years will elapse while they desperately claw for solutions. 

(It is inevitable.)

But let them have this. Before the next apocalypse, just let them have this. 

- 

And what is left in their wake? A great niece left to scrap together some semblance of a life in Madripoor. Communities of displaced refugees fighting tooth and nail for those left behind, forgotten. A man with a vibranium shield he’s not certain fits quite right on his back, a survivor of war desperate to atone for the sins he was forced to commit. 

You want to believe that Sam doesn’t look at the shield with a lump in his throat. You want to believe Bucky doesn’t cry when the lights go out, terrified to close his eyes. 

They do. 

-

Countless iterations of these stories exist across societies all over the world, but no one will ever know what really happened. Their names are thrown in the news and plastered on billboards, their likenesses on hoodies and action figures. A little boy will hold a plastic shield on Halloween and Bucky’s stomach will tie into knots. Wanda will be painted as a villain. Tony Stark, a martyr. 

History is a tale spun by the victors and watered down into easy, digestible facts. And by the time it reaches the youth whose story even is it anymore? Whose truth is told? 

-

To be a hero is to be a tragedy. 

Heroes die. They sacrifice. They suffer. They mourn. To be a hero is to be destined to lose, lose, lose, even when they’ve won - especially when they’ve won. And how can they live with themselves knowing that they’ve lost everything? Can you really blame them for letting go? For wanting to live in the past? For losing hope? 

Is it their duty, or a destiny we thrust on them? What do they want?

Pietro. Vision. Natasha. Tony. For better or for worse, they die. They can’t help it. They just die. 

[andbreakmynose]

cowboy films on gloomy afternoons

you loved everything about working at your local cinema, besides that one employee who just really confused you. he's just as pretentious as you thought but maybe he's also... something else.

WARNINGS: smut!! p-in-v, soft dom! al, one use of slut, office sex, age gap (unspecified, reader is in university). this is really fucking self indulgent

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

written with tbhc alex in mind because tbh he's the only one i can imagine being this level of pretentious tbh

You believed that you truly had the perfect job. For a film student, working as the projectionist at the little independent cinema across the street really was too good to be true. You spent your long hours watching movies—the kind that mattered. Sometimes you’d get stuck with the blockbuster of the week, but you were mostly met with true classics and arthouse features, which not only stuck with you long after watching but actually helped you get ahead in class. Your workspace was cramped and less than ideal, but not even that made you hate the job. You were surrounded by what felt like cinema history in unused rolls of film and posters left over from all 78 years the theater had been open, plus there was a half-decent couch to nap on. And yeah, you got free soda and snacks from it. Perfect.

The company was nice too; if the film ran long and you felt like you needed to stretch your legs, you could walk down to the never-busy lobby and talk to Lucy at the concessions counter (and steal some food) or Dylan at the ticketing stand. Somehow you even got a pretty good boss; Marty was one of the coolest and most experienced people you had ever met. He also wasn’t ever that busy, so he could help you with your homework if you really needed it.

But there’s always that one confusing co-worker, isn’t there? The one that’s either always out for the day or just plain weird. You had Alex. He worked in programming, getting to decide what movies the theater would show regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And goddamn, he was really good at it. Almost every showing you saw was completely sold out (who knew Sheffield had such an audience for auteur films?). But every time you praised his talent, he’d just... shrug it off. He was an enigma wrapped in an encyclopedia of film knowledge.

The problem with Alex is that he was aloof and painfully so. At team meetings, he’d stay in the corner, and you never really saw him out of the office. He also had a habit of being fickle; one day he’d decide he wanted to do an entire week of Tarkovsky films, and the next he’d want to do 1940’s horror films instead. His behavior echoed the type of students that would be dismissed in your class as ‘obnoxiously pretentious’, and god he was, you still remembered the time he went off on poor Marty for suggesting they show a Star Wars movie. But you were still interested in what he had to say; you loved Lucy and Dylan, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about a movie. Alex could, you assumed, if he was able to hold a conversation at all.

The first time you ever talked to him in private was when you went to ask about the copy of the film that was being shown. You had heard there was both a director's cut and a theatrical cut, so you wanted to make sure which you were playing. He answered your question with one sentence; “Director’s. Why the hell would I pick the theatrical edition?” And then went back to his work. It was a while before you talked to him again.

The next time you talked to him was for the same reasons, he seemed a little deep in his work when you came down to his office but you had 20 minutes before credits hit and your boss needed you to do this now. It was something about a high paying donor having a desperate question, whatever.

This exchange was almost the same, except this time he insisted that it was the theatrical cut and that the director’s cut was cash-grab bullshit. Ever the confusing man. You started on your way out when he called at you.

“Hey, what’s your favorite movie?”

It was an unexpected question, he never asked you anything let alone a personal question. It must be a trap, he wanted to hear your favorite movie and then would make fun of you for it. And it’s not that you had bad taste or anything, you're just sure he could find a way to tease you for literally anything you said.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day.” He says, an almost bored expression on his face.

You hesitated in choosing your words, anxious not to provoke the irritation you had seen in men like Alex, even though you knew he was likely to remain impassive. And even though you hadn’t seen him lose his temper, his distant demeanor made you uneasy, as if any slight could provoke a reaction. You had no reason to be scared but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease in your bones.

Alex on the other hand finally turned to face you fully. He had been observing you for a while, you were always around and so was he, and he noted that you also seemed genuinely interested in the films and not just your paycheck. He also found himself begrudgingly noticing that you always wore the same type of skirt, ending right above your knees. He thought that if you were a character in a film it’d be one of your defining traits.

“Mulholland Drive.” You coughed up after a second of thinking. It was an answer that was both honest and, perhaps, intended to impress him. You didn’t want to dwell on whether that was your true intention or not though, you had other things to do.

Alex felt a flicker of satisfaction at your choice. He anticipated a more predictable answer, so Mulholland Drive was certainly a more compelling choice. In his mind, it confirmed that his suspicions were true; you were a different type of girl than any other employee he had seen in his 10 years of working at this theater. Maybe he really was pretentious, but he felt like if anyone was to work with him it should be people like you. He gave you a satisfied nod and a hum of approval, returning to the emails at his desk. He found you just as mysterious as he found you, he wanted to tear down the layers you had shown to everyone else.

Taking that as your sign to leave, you made sure to stop at the concessions stand for a bag of popcorn before going back up to the projectionists booth.

Two weeks later was when things started to change.

Alex had started to smile more, but you decided that was just because it was warm outside again. He had an interesting smile, it was warm and took up his entire face. It wasn’t the smile you’d expect him to have, you expected him to have a sneer if he was even capable of smiling.

You always liked to look at the schedule of films for the next week when they dropped on Thursday afternoons, you’d compare it to your classes’ syllabus to see if there was anything you could watch to get ahead. It seemed like Alex had decided on cowboy films for the next week, he’d done Sergio Leone before but this was just… a lot of 1960’s cowboy movies you had never even heard of. Nothing that would be helpful at all for you.

In between ‘Navajo Joe’ and ‘Billy the Kid Versus Dracula’ (god, where did he even discover these things), your eyebrows shot up. In the midst of all these damn horse operas he had snuck in… Mulholland Drive.

To say there were a million thoughts going through your head would be an understatement. A small, selfish part of you wanted him to have included the film because he had a soft spot for you, maybe this was his way of saying he saw how much you liked movies too. The logical part of your brain told you that there was some other reason, maybe an anniversary or something.

Checking the remaining time on Sabrina (Alex was on an Audrey Hepburn kick this week), you saw you had an hour left. That was plenty of time to wander the lobby and see if you could catch Alex. You slipped your phone into your pocket and climbed down the ladder from the projectionist’s booth to the lobby, praying to every god possible that Alex is somewhere to be found.

Lucy called out to you the second she saw you, beckoning you over with popcorn. You sighed and walked over, smiling at her.

“Hey look, I can’t talk for too long… have you seen Alex? Urgent question from someone at the screening.” It’s an utter lie, your mother would’ve reprimanded you for how filthy it was. But you needed to talk to him.

Lucy thought for a second, tapping her chin with her finger before she remembered. “He’s in his office, he’s always in his office, remember?” She said like it’s the most obvious thing ever. You nodded and gave a thumbs up, taking a handful of popcorn in your mouth before standing up again.

And that’s how you ended up in his office again, although you were shyer this time. If it was actually a question from a patron you’d ask it so easily, but this time it was your own. He’d have to give you an insight into his mind, you weren’t sure if he had ever done that before.

Your foot tapped lightly as you knocked on the door to his office, you heard him shuffle some papers around and groan.

“Come in.”

You have to take a deep breath before you open the door, there’s no reason this stupid movie should be making you feel this nervous but god…

“You’re gonna make me watch shitty westerns for an entire week, Turner?” You say with a small smirk, you embarrassingly had thought of your words all day. You didn’t want to just come in and ask him about why he picked your favorite film.

His eyes darted over to you the second you walked in, slowly taking you in. You had on the same skirt as last time. “I was watching one at home last night and was reminded of how brilliant the genre was. What, you don’t like a good shoot-em-up?” He asks you with raised eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. Of course he liked westerns.

“Not my thing at all.” You replied, taking a small step closer to him. His hair was messier today than it usually was, his beard had gotten longer. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a bit, although he never looked like he got a lot of sleep. “Is it yours? Is your favorite film a western?”

He took note of how you were asking his favorite, the same way he asked yours. Smart girl. He smirked and shook his head, “Nah. My favorite film is ‘Le Samouraï’, you seen it?” Alex wouldn’t judge if you hadn’t seen it, but if you have it just might make you his favorite person on the planet.

You have to rack your brain on what you’ve heard of this film before, maybe it’s been mentioned in class before, you haven’t seen it. “No. Is that a sin?” You asked, leaning against a file cabinet in his office. His office was definitely bigger than the projection booth, he had made it very Alex.

Alex scoffed and shook his head, “I’m sad you haven’t seen it because it’s so brilliant but not mad. They haven’t taught you Melville in that expensive film school yet? You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart.” He matched your comfortable stance by leaning further back into his desk chair and crossing his legs. He had noticed that you aren’t scared of him, not even intimidated by his knowledge. He liked that, he liked talking to you.

“I’ve heard the name, we just haven’t watched it yet.” You respond, looking for the next thing to say to bring you to your point. “But I guess you’ve seen my favorite film, right? I saw you included Mulholland Drive in the lineup, was that a coincidence or are you being deliberate?”

Alex laughed at your words, of course you picked up on that. You really were too smart for your own good. “Well I suppose it’s a bit of both. I wanted something different in case not every regular audience member was on board with my westerns-’ he paused to roll his eyes, as if that thought disgusted him, “but yes. I figured it might be a pleasant surprise for someone with a discerning taste.” His eyes met yours and he smiled again, mostly because he saw a smile creeping on your face. He wanted to keep you smiling.

There was something about him admitting that it’s for you that made you feel… something. You didn’t quite know what. Maybe excited? You were excited and felt validated that he found your taste in film good enough to put on a lineup. You liked that he was perceiving you. “You’re saying you picked it for me? And here I thought you were just gonna be cryptic... What's your angle here?” You asked him; the smile was still on your face, but now your eyebrows were raised.

“Ah.” Alex uncrossed his legs, finally standing up. He got a little closer to you; he wanted to make stronger eye contact with you. “A great teacher back when I was in film school told me that it’s not just about what you watch; it’s about connecting. Maybe it’s all worth it if I can connect with someone who also appreciates the genius of Mulholland Drive.” Pretentious bastard; even his flirting was fucking pretentious. You would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t fighting back a blush.

You took another second to decide your words; it wasn’t often you were speechless, but you were now. "Well, I didn’t expect you to remember, let alone care enough to do that. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought... but don’t get any ideas about being my hero because you saved me from a complete week of westerns.” You had to throw an quip in there; without it, you thought your words felt too… vulnerable. You weren’t sure you were there with Alex yet.

He had to admit that you were funny, even if it was obvious what you were trying to say. He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be your hero, sweetheart. I just figured that someone who loves the film as much as you deserves to see it on the big screen. Even if it’s from your tiny projection booth.”

His words, once again, leave you stunned. That was really sweet—maybe the top 5 sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost impossible not to blush and grin at him, and your body betrayed you by making you step forward. “Yeah? That’s… nice. But if you’re not trying to impress me, what’s your real game here? Or do you just have a thing for making people feel special?” You asked him; your smile was somewhere between teasing him and being genuinely flattered.

“You are special.” He responded, also taking a step forward. You started to feel his breath on your face; somehow just this one conversation had made you go from being terrified of him and thinking he’s so pretentious to wanting him.

As if he could read your mind, he reached forward and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a small squeeze. “Maybe I just enjoy challenging expectations; I can’t always be the mysterious bastard in the office. And like I said, you’re special.” His voice lowered, and his face got impossibly closer to yours.

Against all odds of being at work, and that just a week ago you thought he was the most confusing man on the planet, you needed to fucking kiss him. And you did; you took a half step forward and smashed your lips against his. He kept his hand on your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pushed your back against the filing cabinets. You guessed that he wanted you as bad as you wanted him because he was practically sucking your face; you thought that was just a saying. It was an absolute mess of tongue on tongue and teeth on teeth; your noses even collided a few times as his beard scratched your face. It was uncomfortable in the best way; it was damn hot.

You moaned the very first second you felt his hand grope at your ass and his mouth slip from your lips to your neck. “So fucking pretty, so good,” he muttered before he started to attack your neck. It was an added sensation to have his beard pressing against you alongside his mouth (and teeth; he almost teethed at you). He definitely would leave more marks than just hickeys, but you were so in pleasure you didn’t even have time to think of work.

Oh fuck, work. You cursed silently to yourself and looked up at the clock, just as his hand started to snake under your blouse and over your bra, giving your tit a nice squeeze. “Fuck!” you called out, not just from the intense pleasure but from the fact that you only had another 30 minutes left before you told yourself you needed to be back in the booth. In an ideal world, you’d have an entire night with him.

He continued his mouth’s attack on your neck and hand’s attack on your breasts, feeling his pants start to become tighter; he could only imagine how wet you were. His fantasies were interrupted by you pulling him away and sighing, trying to catch your breath. “Alex… Alex I don’t have much time before I need to go. Do you want-”

He interrupted you this time with his hand coming up to squeeze your lips together, promptly making you shut up. “You got enough time for me to fuck you? Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said as if he'd already decided, and then he started to work with the hand not on your face to unbuckle his belt.

You weren’t able to really form words, so you just whined and nodded, giving him that permission he wanted. He took it quickly, flipping you over and bending you over his desk, your tiny skirt riding up so he could get a view of your pants. You were soaked; he knew you would be. His large thumb started to trace your folds before he made a ‘tsk’ noise and flipped you over again. He wanted to see your face, he decided. Alex Turner was nothing if not confusing.

“This wet only from a little kissing, god, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was dealing with a slut. Although I could’ve guessed from these tiny skirts you keep wearing.” His voice is cool and calm, a complete contradiction from how sinful his words were. You whined at them.

“Alex please. We don’t have much time; please just fuck me!” You cried out, hastily pulling your skirt down so he had easier access. Alex nodded and began to work faster on pulling his pants down. He was so goddamn aroused watching you act like this; you were such a gorgeous girl, and now he had you completely under his control. You moaned loudly, and he grunted, bringing his hand up over your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to hear all those pretty little noises, but not now. I’m not getting fired because you had to talk all sweet to me and get bent over.” It was an unholy whisper into your ears, causing your skin to shiver. You nodded, and he took that as a sign to slip your panties down. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt.”

If it was even possible, his words caused you to get even wetter. You could’ve guessed that he was big from the hardness in his jeans, but by the time he slipped his pants and boxers off, you were left gasping against his hand. There was an underlying fear—how the hell was that supposed to fit inside of you?—but also a great arousal because THAT was supposed to be inside of you. Alex tilted his head down to look at your pussy before he smirked, adjusting himself so he could get closer to your entrance.

Your cunt started to clench around nothing, getting excited just at the sheer closeness of his cock. He looked at your entrance again before he spat on his hand and started to rub it along his length as extra lubrication. “I don’t want to hurt you, babygirl,” he whispered before gently forcing the head into your heat, causing you to scream against his hand.

He shushed you again as he kept pushing himself further in; all of your tiny moans and whines were hidden by his hand, but that was for the best; he’d hear them eventually. You were so tight, so warm, and in that very moment Alex decided he was never going to fuck another girl in his life.

When he bottomed out, you gave in and bit at his hand; it was the only way you could keep an actual scream from coming out. You felt so full, you could even feel him throbbing in your cunt (or maybe that was your walls clenching; it could be both). He smirked and started to move, setting a pace that was relentless. He’d prefer to take you apart slower, but you didn’t exactly have the time for that.

His cock was hit every spot in you that made you mewl and arch your back; it was like he knew things about your body that you didn’t. His eyes were focused like you were one of those damn emails he was always writing; it was hot to you that he was that focused on your pleasure. Gentle grunts started to fall out of his mouth as the hand not on your mouth came up to twist at your nipples. The pleasure was starting to become unbearable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had until you started crying.

You knew you were close when a particularly hard thrust caused your eyes to roll so far back in your head it hurt, so you brought your thumb down to your clit. You needed to cum, and you didn’t care what you had to do to achieve that.

Alex cared though; he wanted to be the one to make you cum. He took his hand off of your nipple and smacked yours off your clit, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. “None of that. If you needed that, you could’ve just asked,” he grunted, bringing his thumb down to your sensitive bud. It was a funny thing for him to say, as you couldn’t exactly speak, but you still bucked up at his manipulation.

His pace started to become sloppy; you knew he was close too. His breath was also starting to become staggered, and you could almost see a tremble in his legs. You’d never seen him this undone, and it was so damn arousing that you caused it. Alex had already memorized all the spots that made you shake and whine; he knew you were close, so he made sure to hit them all on his thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time left, and he wanted to make sure you didn’t leave unsatisfied.

It was a particular stroke where he somehow managed to hit your g-spot and pinch your clit at the same time that had you over the top. You felt your legs start to shake and your back arched. You were sure the noises coming from your mouth were starting to get louder than his hand-cranked control, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care when your hand spilled the pencil cup on his desk all over the floor. All you cared about was that you were cumming and he was making you cum.

Alex grinned at the sight of you becoming this undone because of him. That was what sent him over the edge—the idea that it was his work that just made you coat his member in juices. He pushed until the last second, until his cock was actually twitching, and then he pulled out. The loss of contact was hardly noticed, and he came all over his office floor just by seeing how fucked out you were. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but you were watching him with awe. His dick was really damn nice, and now it was leaking so much cum onto the floor.

He collapsed onto his desk chair and reached for a tissue from his desk. He wiped off his cock before tucking it back into his boxers and then wiped off your pussy, cleaning up the table too. He threw the tissue away and made a mental note to take his own office trash out later.

Once you had caught your breath enough, you stood up, legs still wobbly, and put your pants back on. It took a second, but eventually you had them and your skirt on. Alex just smirked at you.

“That was... good,” you said with a small smile. You were starting to get shy being around him; you just fucked him, and now you had to go back to work.

“It was. You’re uh, you’re perfect. I meant it when I said you’re special.” His smirk turns into a genuinely warm smile, and he brings his thumb up to trace your chin. There was a faint mark on your mouth from him keeping you quiet. You looked down at his cum on the floor, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer to clean it up. He just shook his head; he’d deal with that.

You nodded and sighed, “I should probably get back to work... I don’t look like I just had sex, do I?” Your hair was slightly messy and your shirt was wrinkled, but it also always was. “No one will notice sweetheart,” he replied with a bit of a laugh. He was glad this was your secret.

"Right, uh, thank you, Alex?” It comes out as a question; you’re not sure if you should thank your co-worker for making you cum like that. He shook his head and stood up. “No, thank you for being such a damn good fuck and a special girl.”

You smiled at this; his words gave you a slight hope that maybe this would happen again. You opened his door when he called out to you.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking that maybe I could come up with you and watch Mulholland Drive next week.” It was an optimistic idea; he was worried that you only wanted to fuck. But you grinned and nodded, “I’d really love that; we even have a couch up there.”

He chuckled and stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your chin again. “A couch, fancy!” He joked before he pressed a singular peck on your lips; he wanted you to know that you meant something more than a fuck in the only way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly the best with words. You laughed back at him.

“Alright then, it’s a date.” You grinned at him before leaving his office; you would’ve stayed longer, but time really was running out. You were so lucky that Lucy seemed to be on a bathroom break; you didn’t have to deal with her asking why you were in Alex’s office for so long.

When you got settled back in the projection booth and the credits began to roll, you took a minute to think about what the fuck had just happened, and when you opened your phone, the list of his stupid fucking westerns was still on it. But that was Alex, and maybe you liked that about him.

A/N: yeah like i said... self indulgent (i used to work at a cinema lol). but i'm already obsessed with this version of alex ahh.

[cosmictyto]

💛⚔️ Villain Ambrosius AU - Tarnished Gold ⚔️🖤

I’ve listened to Will Wood’s “Vampire Culture” one too many times while stuck in the Nimona hyperfixation pit + after seeing some villain Amb fanart floating around, so enjoy these sloppy, partially finished mad ramblings edited/stylized a bit to (try and) make them a little more interesting to read. Also, you're all more than welcome to add on/ask any questions! I'll get to them when I can.

Just a heads up, this is looooong. Simply because ya girl’s a wordy bitch.

Basically, the point of this AU can be boiled down to “What if Ambrosius knew Ballister was innocent AND Nimona got to him first?” Kinda a role swap, but kinda its own thing at the same time? Idfk.

On the night of the knighting ceremony, as they’re both suiting up, Ballister verbally mentions his sword feeling off to Ambrosius. But neither of them have time to investigate that further.

The knighting ceremony goes just as horribly as it did in the movie. The queen is dead, Ballister’s lost his arm, and though they couldn’t exactly find Ballister’s body, he’s presumed dead. Lambasted as a traitor to the kingdom, but also treated as a sort of boogeyman since no one REALLY knows if he’s dead in that "I heard he's dead!" "Well, I heard he's still alive!" kind of way.

Ambrosius, meanwhile, is left completely crushed. Simultaneously being praised by some for “disarming the traitor” and mocked by others for being so close to that same traitor. For not recognizing the signs earlier. For not stopping him before their queen was killed. And though the Director reassures him that he’s done well as Gloreth’s descendant and that this will all fade as nothing more than a bad memory… he knows. Ballister didn’t do it. He KNEW something was wrong with his sword. And deep down he knew that his boyfriend was innocent. So he confronts the squire, sees the footage, and leaves with his whole world rocked.

Needless to say, the proof of ACTUAL INTENTIONAL regicide, treason, and corruption within the system, the same one he’s a literal living symbol of, isn’t on his mind at the moment. Just what he did to Bal. So full of regret and guilt. (At best, he mutilated the love of his life out of instinct which is still horrible!!) Normally when he wanted time alone to think he’d go to the top of the Glorodome. But, that spot hurt too much right now. That's where he and Bal first became friends. So, that same night, he went to the next-best place, Gloreth’s statue.

It’s late at night (he hasn’t been able to sleep much lately anyway,) and he’s sitting at the edge of that massive golden sword. Legs dangling as he stares at the ground. He’s normally not much of a drinker, usually too risky. But tonight he makes an exception. Before, everything felt manageable. The inherent weight he bore being Gloreth’s descendant, the press and citizenry looking up to him to be this bastion of goodness and pure heroism, internal familial pressures over how he should act, look, and think… with Bal at his back, he could handle it. But that stability’s gone now. And the only other person he could possibly lean on, the Director, was responsible for his lover’s death. Now, more than ever, he feels like he’s on the verge of collapsing under the weight this kingdom’s placed on his shoulders…

And then someone happens to come along.

Even despite everything, despite all the hurt this one person’s been responsible for… Nimona still carries fondness for Gloreth. And some nights, when she can’t sleep and she feels like howling at the moon, she’ll go to her old friend’s statue… tonight was one of those nights. And who does she happen to find? Her great-great-great-great… however many more, great grandkid. And he’s not looking too hot. A part of her knows she’s got no real obligation to help him, she's never talked to any of the Golden-groin brats before. But... she's had plenty of moments where she wished she had someone talk her down from doing something stupid, and she's feeling kinda sentimental n' sappy... so she strikes up a conversation.

He’s (reasonably) startled by this teen who just showed up out of nowhere. On a statue that requires a hoverbike to get to, no less. But he’s also drunk enough that he’s not as concerned as he maybe should be. One thing leads to another, and he just lets loose. Like, completely vents everything stored in him. (And, yes, “Arm chopping is not a love language!!!” Is thrown in there.)

Nims is just kinda in shock. In all those stupid commercials and interviews he seems so calm and put-together. Perfect, even. But, he's actually kind of a wreck. And now he’s unraveling real fast and is a bit too wobbly to be up this high- So she talks him down a bit. Calms him. Eventually asks, “If you never had any of this stupid “Gloreth” stuff pushed on you, who would you be? What’d you want to do?”

That legitimately stumps and breaks him. He’s thought about how nice it’d be to have this pressure off of his back. Where he could be his own person and not “the descendant of Gloreth.” But he never ONCE considered what a world like that would really look like. All he’s ever known was THIS. Being a knight, being a symbol and not a real person… there’s really only one thing he could actually say.

“Um… My hair wouldn’t be blond..? Y’know, it’s funny, this isn’t even my natural color. They make me bleach it so that I… that I can look more like her…”

And it’s at that point that Nimona decides right then and there, if she couldn’t get the kingdom to change its mind, she’ll at least get through to Gloreth's heir. Break at least one cycle. (And totally not because she feels the teensiest bit regretful he's been put in this position, naaah, nothing like that.~) She coaxes him down from that statue, and the two of them proceed to do nothing but get into mischief…

“~Blood… didn’t they want your blood? So why apologize for being blue and cold?~”

Specifically, the kind that you don’t remember until well after you wake up. All Ambrosius knows is that he’s in some strange dim dreary place and someone’s cooking something. Oh, it’s just Bal. He usually handles any meals since he doesn’t burn them like he does… but, as he’s snuggling back into the couch, he realizes there’s the sound of a girl humming? What? He sits up. Aaaand she’s there? The girl from the statue? He tries to blow some of his unkempt hair out of his face, and-... he freezes. Grabs his phone, ignores the many, many missed calls and news notifications, opens his camera app, and… black. His hair is black. Why is it black?! It’s not supposed to be-! He NEEDS to be blond! And-!

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty!~ Not gonna lie, never knew a fancy-pants knight like yourself could cut loose like that... Hm? Oh! Right, the hair! You were telling me all about how much you hated bleaching it last night. Sooo, we dyed it! Eventually, you can cut all the dyed stuff off and just leave it your real color if you want. But, for now? Bye-bye, blondie! Like it?~”

No. No he does not. He’s basically having an anxiety attack over the unsanctioned change. Then he gets a notification on his phone and starts reading the news articles. All about HIM, a “mystery girl,” and several animals going wild throughout the kingdom.

“Dude, chill. What’s done is done. We got a little crazy, you saw some pink elephants, and we dyed your hair. So what?”

“So what?! What do you MEAN “So what?!?” I’m a DESCENDANT of GLORETH! I-I can’t be doing things like that! Or be seen like this, or-!”

“Woah WOAH! Hey, look at me. Breathe. You wanna really know why you asked me to dye your hair? YOU said it was so you could be free."

“Free..?”

“Yeah! From now on? You don’t have to live by their stupid rules and expectations. You don't have to be like her, you can be YOU! You can do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want! Wanna change your name? Do it! Wanna go break stuff? Hell yeah! Want a piercing or tattoo? I can give you some. I know how! You wanna make those bastards pay for what they did to you and your boyfriend? I'm more than happy bring the matches and help you burn that bitch to the ground!~"

From that point, things just click. His whole life, the Director… no, the whole INSTITUTE forged him into nothing more than a gilded sword. One that they turned on the person he loved most. The ONE thing in his life that he chose and stuck by… and the system he was supposed to symbolize MADE him kill the love of his life… and he didn’t have to play by their rules anymore. Thus starting his fall into "Villainy."

“~Blood, didn’t they want your blood? So don’t apologize for being blue and cold…~”

Slight time skip!~

Truth was? Ballister was still alive. Heavily wounded, dazed and confused at how everything went so wrong, but alive...

Ballister's story continues as it did in the movie. Months later after the knighting, he's being hunted by the law with Sir Thoddeus Sureblade as the captain of the guard. In the meantime, he's built himself an arm and is still aiming to prove his innocence... Except his attempts to find Ambrosius, or convince the Director that he was set up, are a complete failure. Like in the movie, he's arrested and thrown in the dungeon... Except with no one to break him out. According to whispered gossip from the guards who bring him food, Ambrosius has been missing for a while, now. A fact that would not be revealed to the public anytime soon...

"It's only culture! It's only CULTURE!! It's only- Culture's not your friend..!"

At least, not until an individual in scuffed black-and-rose-gold colored armor (?) shows up with... a bear, or a tiger, and a wolf, and horse, and... even a rhinoceros?! The two of them running through the halls. Breaking things, lighting stuff on fire, and spraying paint on the walls (along with the floor, ceiling, and any statues,) and scrapping with any knights they come across. They'd already uploaded that clip of the Director swapping those swords. This? This was a diversion to keep the Institute from possibly removing or censoring that clip before the public got to see it. And Ambrosius LOVED it! He got to be loud! To make a mess! He finally got to punch Todd in his stupid dude-bro face! When you've kept someone shackled their whole lives, and then take those harnesses and leashes off? The freedom's enough to make ‘em go a just a teensy bit crazy. More than anything, since everything that happened the night of their knighting? He felt alive.

"Hey, fuck your culture! I ain't got no culture! It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you're of it!"

During the assault, just as things are starting to get dicey for Nims and Brose, they do something so that the power ends up cutting out. Freeing Ballister and giving him his chance to escape, and... for a moment Ballister sees him. His Rose, ebony-haired with cuffs and studs on his ears. Riding on the unsaddled back of a raspberry-pink horse. A can of neon spray-paint in one hand, a sword in the other, a whole squad of knights behind him… and for a moment they lock eyes. Ambrosius’ world just comes crashing down, trying to stop and turn Nims around (Who refuses. ‘Cause, y’know, the bunch of knights behind them?!) she shifts into an ostrich to get a boost of speed, and the two just ride off with Ambrosius staring wide-eyed… looking like he saw a ghost… meanwhile, Ballister’s wondering just what the hell’d happened since the ceremony, and just -what- his boyfriend’s been hanging out with.

From this point my plot-related notes are thinner/less thought out. But here they are anyway:

- Ballister’s still firmly stuck in the Institute’s brainwashing since he’s had absolutely no time hanging out with Nimona to influence that. He’s seen the footage, but still believes that the fault solely lies with the Director specifically. That the Institute as a concept can still be preserved. A part of him hopes that by capturing this pink monster he might be able to redeem himself in the eyes of the kingdom. Prove his loyalty as a knight. (And conveniently finally meet with his boyfriend who’s apparently lost his damn mind?! Or... or has been corrupted by this thing?) So, while on the run from Todd and the other knights, he’s also trying to track down Ambrosius + Nimona and stop them from inciting a rebellion. Because all he knows is that this isn’t the man he fell in love with. (I won't lie, the Ballister side of things feels pretty shaky. I need more time to sit and stew on it.)

- If we’re using D&D alignment charts as a reference, Ambrosius is basically going from lawful-good to chaotic-good. Identity crisis and shift to anarchy aside, he genuinely doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not the general populous. Yes, he happened to be raised to be a “hero of the realm” but, at his core, he’s still a good guy. Any acts of arson, destruction, or anything of the like are done with the knowledge that the spaces have been cleared out as best they can, first. And he doesn't even want to kill his fellow knights because he knows that, ultimately? They've all been forced through the same system. Children thrown into a mold to be forged into weapons. He’ll fight them. But, he doesn’t fight to kill… that being said, he doesn’t necessarily stray from violence, either.

- At some point I do see Ballister and Ambrosius getting into a fight. But, of course, Ballister’s the top of their class. No matter how hard they both sparred or competed against each other, Bal’d always managed to come out on top. In everything. So Rose is, of course, disarmed and thrown to the ground. A sword pointed at him as he looks up at the man he loves-.

“What, do you think this is some kind of a game?! You and that… that thing are tearing this kingdom apart! I… I don’t even recognize you anymore… what happened, Ambrosius?!”

“What happened? She set me free, Bal. And if you can’t see that this is who I really am, deep down..? Then you never really knew me at all…”

More miscellaneous/fun notes:

- It’s less boss/henchman in this AU. Instead, Rose and Nims 100% have a brother/sister dynamic. They bicker and tease when they’re together. But, the moment the other’s in trouble, it’s strict “No one messes with ‘em except me!” vibes. Who’s the older and who’s the younger sibling changes depending on the moment.

- Ambrosius always liked rock music. His parents and the Director always disapproved because it was “noise unbefitting of a Goldenloin” (ie. It wasn’t classical or opera therefore it was “wrong.”) but he always listened to it in private or with Ballister. So when Nims played some stuff and she caught Rose singing along to all the words? That earned instant respect points for him.

- These two also share one braincell between them at any given time. How they haven’t gotten caught is a damn miracle. Like, seriously, these two are goofballs. The moment he saw Nimona change into a shark? Oh, he totally stuck his head in her mouth. He never thought once about how “the wings” would be too noticeable. And when Nims brought up the plan to wreck the Institute? Eloquently putting it as: “We break-in, we break some stuff, smash some helmets, something-something-something, we win!~” He could only reply with a nod and, “Alright, sounds good!” And when they're playing a board game and she's going on some tangent? He's laughing his ass off. The only other person he's been this dorky around was Ballister.

- Once it clicked that he could swear?! And no one would get mad at him or clutch some pearls?! Nimona had to give him a crash-course because he was using it a bit too much. And it just kinda sounded ridiculous. Like giving a tween free rein to swear.

- He also went more crazy with his appearance. He was already used to the idea of makeup (Gloreth forbid her ancestors ever had *gasp* acne!!!) Eyes? Lined and smokey. Often with dark or fun colors. Nails? Painted. 24/7. Fingers adorned with a buncha rings. Lots of layered necklaces and bracelets. Plus silky black shirts with low necklines. And he did get his ears pierced. Both lobes, a couple in the helix of one ear, and one on an eyebrow. All of which was done courtesy of Nimona. (Needless to say, Ballister was shook the first time he got a good look at him.)

- He is still a Ballister Simp. Always gonna be his number one fan. At first, he tried to convince Ballister to join him and Nimona, but Bal wouldn’t listen. Their relationship doesn’t start to fracture until Ballister starts actively hunting them both down for the sake of capturing her. Because, while Ambrosius adores Ballister, and wants nothing more than to be with him… Nimona’s been the only one to help him see the truth. To help free him of all his expectations, she’s been there when he was at his lowest. She’s his friend. And he’s not willing to sacrifice her just so that he can go back to being the “Descendant of Gloreth” with Ballister. So, though it hurts, he still loves Bal. But he’s always waiting for the moment his lover admits he’s wrong about this.

- Speaking of Nimona’s and Ambrosius’ friendship… she’s in an awkward spot. Because, especially now with all those prissy-noble-layers stripped away… she sees so much of Gloreth in Ambrosius. In his smile, how confident every step is, that glimmer in his eye when he’s about to do something rebellious, even the way his eyes crinkle and his lips get tight when he’s mad. In so many ways he’s absolutely his own person… but it’s like she got her best friend back. And maybe that’s why she stayed and talked with him. Because she saw a chance to try again…

(Psst, you seriously read this far down? Thanks a ton! Have a cookie.~ 🍪 )

[signanothername]

WAAA not really an ask but just wanted to say your storytelling is a huge huge inspiration to me! I've always sorta struggled with that sorta thing and you're stuff gives me motivation to try!! Also I love how u draw killer it's so... him

ABBSHSHAAAAAA THANK YOU SOB

AND IM SO GLAD IT GIVES YOU MOTIVATION TO TRY!! Cause the funny thing is, storytelling is something that i also really struggle with, but not necessarily art wise, so like, when I make comics I can easily imagine what the art would be like and how it would flow, but once I reach the dialogue? I get stuck BIG time, it’s like I can imagine what i want, but I struggle with how to word it if that makes sense, words are just so hard to think of for me vhhchchc

So what i usually do is make the dialogue in two parts, first i’d I write everything I have in mind down, without thinking whether it makes sense or if it suits the character, and once i got everything written down, then i start actually refining it and thinking about the little details like whether this character would actually say that, or if it makes sense or if it’s better for the flow of the story

Sometimes, I know what I want the dialogue to be, but I struggle a lot with how i want the words to go, for example, the “little life update” comic

I struggled a LOT with the dialogue for that one, here are a few examples of dialogue I removed, changed, added and edited

I originally had Killer say “I get easily overwhelmed” before I changed it to “it gets overwhelming”

It’s such a small change but for me, it makes a very big difference, cause Killer usually feels detached from himself, so it just didn’t make sense to me that he would use “I” in regards to his own emotions, so I changed the dialogue so it would match Killer’s detachment and used “it” instead

Here I originally had the entire dialogue to be “monsters and Determination don’t mix well” followed by “ I mean my body’s already suffering from it”, but when I reread it, not only did it make the flow of the comic awkward and jumpy, but it also made me think “literally everyone in the Undertale fandom knows that I don’t need to reiterate it to them like they’re stupid”

Here I decided to add “but you already knew that” to the og dialogue, to further emphasize Nightmare’s manipulation of Killer

Here I removed an entire sentence saying “cause it’s not like you truly cared about my wellbeing” cause it felt a bit too spiteful even for Killer (who’s extremely spiteful bdhdhsh) and it gave the vibe Killer wanted Nightmare to care about him, which is not what I wanted to imply at all

And then the biggest change, the last few panels, the og dialogue and the one I used are completely different, and it’s mostly just me not knowing how to end the comic originally, but then when i reread it I realized that 1- Killer wouldn’t care about Nightmare’s feelings of loneliness when he barely understands his own emotions, 2- the dialogue felt extremely out of place with the rest of the comic, and 3- this comic wasn’t about Nightmare, it was about Killer and I needed to keep it that way

Anyway sorry for rambling about it but it genuinely makes me happy to see people loving my storytelling when i struggle a lot with it hahahaha

AND THANK YOU! Killer is my son and I just want to do him justice, glad to see so many people loving the way I write him EEEEEEEE

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

[anyasathenaeum]

Personally I think it would be funny if the plan to lock Reader and Vash in a room together failed miserably and they just ended up talking about the weather the whole time like the emotionally constipated dorks they are. And they actually end up confessing at a completely different, unrelated point. Like, one of them gets hammered and confesses when they mistake the other for a stranger and starts rambling about how AMAZING their "unrequited" lover is.

You don't have to write this if you don't want to, just wanted to share at least.

Locked In With You

A/N: I'm gonna write this, I'm taking it like a personal challenge haha partially because I LOVE your idea, Anon - it somehow feels right. For reference, this is a fic that continues off a point from these jealousy headcanons. I took a slightly different approach to this, but it should still address this request!

Edit: So, there is an optional continuation/part 2 to this fic. Read it here!

Pairing: Vash x reader

"So... what do we do now?"

Vash's voice was abnormally high, clearly indicating his nervousness. You were glad the room was pretty dark - that way, Vash wouldn't be able to see your face changing shades. Or, at least, you hoped he couldn't see your face.

For some reason, Meryl and Wolfwood had decided to take it upon themselves to lock you and Vash in a closet together. At least, that's what you suspected.

"I swear, those two are in for it," You muttered under your breath, "They locked us in here on purpose. But for what reason?"

"I don't know!" Vash exclaimed, letting out another nervous laugh, "M-Maybe it was a genuine accident?"

"I doubt that, Vash," You replied sullenly, crossing your arms over your chest, "I don't think anything those two collaborate on is an 'accident'."

"Aww, come on, we should give 'em the benefit of the doubt, don't you think?" Vash tried again, smiling a bit as you shook your head stubbornly in return.

"Absolutely not."

At that, Vash just chuckled before letting a silence fall between the two of you. It felt... comfortable, but simultaneously a bit uneasy, like there was something hovering between you and Vash - something that was begging to be said, or acknowledged, but wasn't being so and just lingered there.

You normally would have given anything to be caught in a situation like this with Vash, but now that you found yourself here, against your will, you felt unsure and scared.

You had fallen in love with the Humanoid Typhoon while travelling with him, and you always made sure your hands "accidentally" touched, or you found reasons to be stuck with him, or be near him, and found yourself looking at him longingly whenever you were sure he wasn't looking. You were pretty certain Meryl and Wolfwood found you pathetic, as they were most definitely aware of how in love you were with Vash. But even so, they didn't say anything about it, for which you were grateful.

Until now, when Meryl and Wolfwood suddenly decided the only way you and Vash could potentially get together was by physically enclosing you in a space until a confession was drawn out. Enough had been enough for them.

"Vash?" You found yourself whispering his name in a question softly, before you yourself knew where you were going with this.

"Yeah, (Y/N)?" Vash responded, his own voice quiet - if you didn't know any better, he almost sounded... nervous. As if he was anticipating something.

"I-," You took a deep breath, "I just wanted to tell you that-"

The door flung open, and you blinked as the sudden light blinded you. Once your eyes adjusted, you just saw a smirking Wolfwood and a slightly embarrassed Meryl.

"Sorry, guys! We finally got the key to get you two out!" Meryl exclaimed as you slipped out of the closet you'd been locked in, brushing past her and mumbling a "thanks" in passing.

One look with Wolfwood, and you could see that he understood - nothing had happened. No confession. You couldn't help but feel a bit upset about it - you were about to let your feelings go when they'd interrupted, and now... it felt like your chance was lost forever.

Your sorrow lasted the rest of the day, to the point where when you and the group went down to the tavern, you found yourself ordering drink after drink after drink, slamming them back one after the other in an attempt to numb the pain of all your emotions. You felt your head spinning and your blood buzzing in your veins, but you weren't about to stop any time soon.

"Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, there, sweetheart. You trying to drown your sorrows?"

You glanced over at Wolfwood as he sat next to you at the bar, picking up your drink and taking a sniff before smirking at you, "Damn, sweetheart, strong stuff you got here."

He proceeded to drink your drink, causing you to exclaim, "Hey, I was planning to drink that, you bastard!"

"Whatcha doing, drinking enough of this crap to blind a man?" Wolfwood just asked coolly, his eyes trained on you as you sighed heavily.

"Trying to forget the fact that I'm in love with a beautiful, perfect, amazing, wonderful man who will never love me back," You slurred, your voice louder than you recognized it to be.

Before Wolfwood could even interject, you just continued to rant, "Seriously, Wolfwood, Vash is the most amazing person I've ever met and I love him more than anybody else in my life, but there's no chance somebody as amazing as him would even look at somebody like me twice. I'm nobody special, just ordinary, boring, unimpressive (Y/N)."

To Wolfwood's alarm, there were now tears going down your face as you cried silently, the alcohol amplifying your emotions beyond what you were used to. You were hiccupping quietly, brushing away your tears clumsily as you sat there at the bar, suddenly looking much smaller and more vulnerable than Wolfwood had ever seen you. To say he was unsettled was an understatement.

What you didn't notice was Wolfwood's eyes suddenly shifting to something behind you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he saw Vash just standing there, absolutely stunned. There was no question about it - Vash had heard your declaration of love for him.

You suddenly tried to stand, but of course, with your blood alcohol level now probably through the roof, the whole world jerked violently sideways and you stumbled hard. However, a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrapped around you and caught you before you hit the ground. You let out a groan, feeling sick to your stomach - the alcohol was kicking your butt, now.

"Why don't you let Blondie get you back to your room, huh, sweetheart?" Wolfwood stated casually, waving you off and walking over to where Meryl was, leaving you in Vash's arms.

"Come on, (Y/N)," Vash's gentle voice was suddenly in your ear, causing a shiver to go down your spine as you registered he was there, "Let's get you to bed, yeah?"

"Oh, hi Vash!" You chirped, smiling at him as if you hadn't just been sobbing your eyes out minutes prior, "When did you get here?"

"Just a few seconds ago, just in time to catch you as you tripped," Vash answered, smiling down at you with a grin that could rival the sun. It made your chest feel warm but it hurt you a bit as your feelings resurfaced in your cloudy mind.

"O-Oh. Thanks, Vash," You mumbled, feeling queasy as you tried to walk, "I-I should... go to bed. You don't need to babysit me, I'll be fine."

However, right as you tried to brush Vash off, you tripped over yourself once again, almost hitting the floor once more. Thankfully, Vash was still nearby and managed to catch you once again.

"I won't babysit you, but please let me at least make sure you get back safe, (Y/N)," Vash asked gently, looking down at you with an expression filled with an emotion you didn't recognize.

Regardless, it softened your resolve, leading to you mumbling out a small "okay" and letting Vash guide you back to your room. Before you knew it, you were back in your room and Vash let you get ready for bed as he went to turn down your bed covers and make it easier for you to get to bed. Once you had brushed your teeth and changed into your pyjamas (with a lot of difficulty), Vash made you drink a glass of water and brought you over to the bed, tucking the blankets in around you.

Before Vash could leave, you grabbed his wrist, clutching onto him somewhat desperately, a small whisper leaving you as you felt sleep washing over you, "Please don't go."

You didn't even have time to hear Vash's response before sleep dragged you under, your hand dropping from Vash's as you finally fell asleep. Vash's heart was pounding violently in his chest as he gazed at your sleeping figure - even drunk, you still wanted him there.

Vash couldn't help but smile a goofy little smile to himself - he had overheard your passionate and somewhat sad declaration of love for him, undoubtedly unaware that he was directly behind you. His heart had broken when he heard you voice how you felt Vash was unreachable to you, that his love was unreachable to you and that you felt you were nothing special, simply ordinary, and not enough for him.

Your little whisper asking him to stay as you fell asleep just solidified Vash's determination to confess to you in the morning, once you were sober and would be able to remember every word he told you. He already knew you loved him, he now had that confirmation, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to act on it.

"I'm so in love with you, (Y/N)," Vash found himself whispering into the night, leaning down to gently stroke your cheek as you slept on, "I love you more than anything. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise. And finally, I'll tell you the truth. I love you, (Y/N). Sleep well, my love."

Vash could not wait for the morning to come.

[maryse127]

List of changes I hope to see in Xenoblade X Definitive Edition :)

I am hopeful because last time we got a definitive edition Monolith adressed basically all my issues with the original

LARGER TEXT. For fuck's sake please. I love this game, I would love it even more if I could fucking read!

Better online servers. I have no experience with Nintendo Switch Online but please let the online be more stable. The constant disconnects were so annoying. Especially because the only way to reconnect was going back to the title screen and loading back in. Which took forever with the loading times.

I never got to experience the game during the Miiverse days so I hope they bring the Miiverse features back to some degree just like they did with Splatoon

Change it so that the flight music only kicks in after flying for about 10 seconds instead of the instant you jump. And also the option to turn it off completely. I love the flight theme but it sucks you basically never get to hear the area themes again while travelling once you unlock flying.

Considering they didn't listen to the complaints about the vision reacts music in DE I am Very Skeptical about a flight music toggle tho :(

Hot take but I actually like talking to characters in NLA to put them in your party. However I HATE it when I cannot find them because they are not in their usual spot. Please mark their current locations on the map!!

Rebalance the audio and/or add audio options to the settings because I would love to hear the characters talk over the music

Wild card that won't happen but that I have always wanted: add a fashion boutique to the commercial district where you can buy fashion gear. And add more of it. I love the casual clothes in this game. I just wish it was easier to get specific things than randomly getting it from the basic mission board

Improve follow ball. That thing gets lost and confused when you fly

Better quest tracking for collectibles. Would love to be able to find my quest items without having to consult the wiki where they spawn.

Honestly, add better quest tracking for enemies as well. I have spend way too much time searching for tyrants despite having their basic mission active. Just anything that makes me use the wiki less while playing.

Offline option to gain reward tickets. I love the online but it would be so much better and more fair to all players if you could get the reward tickets offline as well. Being stuck in collection quests or grinding all materials for creating skells amd augments is just so bad without the tickets.

I feel like the map could use a bit more location names and would also really appreciate it if it would show exactly where the landmark/probe is in the sector. Because I have had moments where I warped and ended up being a lot farther away from where I wanted to go than I thought.

Option to change time from the menu instead if having to find a base camp or bench!!!

Better tutorials. Like they have to because the manual is gone. But even with the manual I felt like explanations were lacking at times. Especially when it comes to overdrive.

Not a change rather a very heartfelt request to NOT change how stupidly broken overdrive is. Infinite overdrive strats my beloved.

Option to quit out of a story or affinity mission. I never did get stuck in one. And I know there's an option to lower boss difficulty if you die a few times. But I just never liked the restricted feeling of not being able to give up and retry it later. Especially ones where you need items which can be a Pain without reward tickets.

Game is probably gonna get an easy mode anyway but I would really appreciate the option to quit a mission.

Make the skells easier to control in vehicle mode?? I don't know how this could be achieved. Maybe it's just a skill issue on my part (rather than a skell issue)

Unlikely but please: multiple save files per user. The whole reason I have a second profile on my Switch is Xenoblade 2 (and BotW) not allowing multiple savefiles per profile.

Maybe have inactive party members gain some exp? Like after you unlock overdrive you can basically solo the game anyway but it would be nice to not have a character stuck at level 20 when you are in late game grinding affinity for affinity missions

Somehow make it so that the Prospectors aren't constantly dominating the leaderboards. I too want salvage tickets for my skell :(

[realclaramorrow]

wat spoilers (whole thing this time). more thoughts I'm full of thoughts (made better from my emotion blinded previous finished book rant)

ok now that I've had some time to sit and think, I enjoyed the book AND I think it couldve taken a couple more editing rounds. I'm sure none of these are new thoughts. I can't believe in my previous post I was right about everything except my opinion on dalinar.

kaladin telling ishar hes szeth's therapist and then being like man idk either was a clunky joke and really took me out of the moment. "honor is dead but I'll see what I can do" is a good line but also a bit cringeworthy at this point? I think his ending is at first glance what he needs but if you look deeper he's isolated from everyone he's ever loved (except syl) and has to be on the clock as a therapist for 9 people with multiple millenia of trauma 24/7. I'm upset for him. This is not a break.

adolin's situation is also good at a glance but bad long term. just like kaladin and shallan he's completely isolated from his loved ones (except maya). shakadolin was too powerful, they had to be stuck in different dimensions. he never got to forgive his father. maya is basically the only method of communication between free nations. at least he and gawx can be bros? I love the way they won azir. he's possibly continuing the absent kholin father tradition by accident.

shallan is pregnant maybe? I dont like that, I think pregnancy plots are usually stupid and poorly done. hope she can get back to the physical world because giving birth in shadesmar seems bad and dangerous (painspren, no midwife, not much access to food/water, no one she loves to support her). I wish shallan had had more complex thoughts about rlain and renarin because she's smart and while dealing with a great many things I think should've at least briefly thought like "oh god they are going to have such a terrible time in the physical world I need to make it so clear that I am supportive."

I understand that Jasnah was exhausted but the argument for thaylenah felt a tiny bit out of character for her. she's admittedly not great at talking to people and was caught off guard at every turn, but I think previous scenarios showed she could've handled it better, especially with so much on the line.

I can't believe (actually, I very much can) that odium did that to gav. thats so fucked up. and preserving his city's souls in the spiritual realm? absolutely fuck off. his grandchildren are safe but the only kholin grandchild doesn't get to be, directly because of him? this is a 20 year old with almost no real memories of the people that loved him, maybe a few faint ones from age 5 or before. this kid was groomed to be a lamb for slaughter for fifteen years.

I have hope for moash redemption? I imagine kaladin showing up and he's literally a herald (of second chances) and moash (with investiture vision) is like WHY ARE YOU GOD WHAT THE FUCK

the shattered plains got the best ending it could, in my opinion. free listener state!! yes!!

I appreciate that dalinar's death wasnt in combat, but by the strength of the storm. he was a king until the end, and I feel bad that I ragged on him so hard because he immediately started changing for the better. also, claimed by another? I can't tell if that's just death or if thaidakelsier wants him bad or if another god has spoken for him. gotta know. maybe valor?

also, I really need to read the sunlit man. for as much as I love sigzil you'd think I would've gotten around to it already. I also have not read: warbreaker, elantris, the emperor's soul, yumi and the nightmare painter, shadows for silence, sixth of the dusk, or white sand. its not like I wont be busy during these 7 years.

[magpiefngrl]

hey! curious new writer here. which fix of yours were the easiest to write and which were the hardest? in what way?

Hello anon! Thanks for an interesting ask.

OK I'll start with the disclaimer that every fic has its difficulties as well as moments when it flows, but there have definitely been some that poured out of me with great ease than others which were a constant struggle.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy, my first drarry, was written at the height of my obsession and it poured out of me. I wrote like a fiend all day and would go to bed at night and reread what I wrote. I breathed that fic day and night for the weeks it took me to write it. It was also the most fun I had writing, prob because I was a complete unknown and there were zero expectations from me. Similarly, The Full Monty, written just after TMODM, was an easy fic to write. I remember I read the prompt and was immediately assaulted by images and started laughing on my own and was like, OK I need to claim this, the fic is writing itself.

Similarly but in a more tortuous way, dirtynumbangelboy poured out of me too. More tortuous because it took me ages to find the right beginning, and by then I was behind with my deadlines and got stressed. Also, I wrote it in a sort of dread of the Erised fest, because it had some amazing writers that year and I was intimidated. I remember my goal was to "at least not embarrass myself" .

But, aside from the doubts and stress, dnab itself flowed like nothing else. There are passages that I really love, even now years later, and they are exactly as they came out the first time. I did very little editing (compared to other works).

With The Boy Who Died I made a fun post on tumblr about a mdzs AU of drarry and then the idea wouldn't let me go so I had to sit and write it. Luckily it was summer and I didn't work and I could spend my days writing it. There were moments I got stumped but it mostly came out easily.

Finally, a lot of my short fics poured out of me in one go and came out almost perfectly formed. The Dare, A Perfectly Normal Reaction, and my MCD The Death You Carry are good examples.

Fics that took ages at first:

so my thing is that I have to find the right opening to begin the story, otherwise I can't proceed. I don't plan; the first scene/chapter is my plan. And sometimes I get stuck for yonks. With The Unquiet Grave I began with a Draco POV, him being a politician and Harry his bodyguard, had an interesting first scene and then---nothing. It's like I hit a wall. Zero words come. When I have this feeling, I know I need to go back and revise. Long story short, it was when I changed the POV to Harry that somehow the whole gothic mood came about and I felt the auspicious click: I got it. That's what the story is. A gothic romance. After that, it was easier.

The same thing happened with Hush, darling. I rewrote a first scene fruitlessly several times until a random bit of inspiration fell into my hands: the visual of a card game. I began with it and I let it guide me and the whole plot/stakes/cast fell into place.

Fics that needed a LOT of work and had to be dragged into existence:

The Gift is the first that comes to mind. First couple of chapters were pretty easy and then I was stumped. Writing it felt like dragging myself up a slope, step by step and also not being happy with anything, so that was fun. :/

The other is 9 ½ Days, which took actual years to finish. In that case the middle part was the hard one. I wrote the beginning fairly easily and the last chapters, the plotty ones, also flowed. But the middle. Zeus almighty. It took me years and I thought and thought and thought about it a lot. Finishing this fic was an immense relief but also a source of pride, especially because I really liked the result, and judging by the comments I get, people seem to love it too.

Thanks for an unusual ask! It was good to ponder about my fics and my writing process. The same issues seem to crop up with my original works too, and it's helpful to remind myself that I got over those issues before and I can get over them again.

[its-in-the-woods]

Life's to short Chapter 1 (completed)

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

Not beta.. I tried to edit 🫠

Ninety five percent written just tweaking

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

There will be canonically typical violence and eventually smut

+18 only

Slow burn sorta kinda

Please be nice this my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️

The sand blew past them as they marched forward along the rolling dunes. It had been, what, seven days since they left the observatory. Seven days of traveling east, well, eastish. The hound with them had the scent of old Daddy Maclean, a stuck bleeding pig in a half-dead power armor. A slick smile spread across his face, unless that piggy had a spare fusion core he wouldn’t be too far ahead. The sooner they got to him the better, not that the company was bad. Miss Chatterbox had actually been quiet. It was almost unnervingly so. He didn’t think the little slip of things could keep her mouth quiet for so long. The dog had made more damn noise than she did. Then again the Ghoul thought she had had the rug pulled right from under her. Went from a blushing bride to a finger-biting, venom-filled, killing machine. If the Super Duper Mart was any indication the little lady was a fighter. Another smile crossed his face as he glanced back at his companion. The Smooth skin had grabbed a poncho and pair of goggles off a dead traveler. He had pointed it out to her when they walked by, she hadn't even wrinkled her nose at it. Her skin was deeply tanned, pocket marked full of sun blister, and vault shoes traded in for something a bit more heavily soiled. Yet she was still so different from anything else out there. The Ghoul had tried to persuade her into giving up the vault suit but she hadn't budged yet.  The blue and yellow suit, even heavily soiled, stood out like a sore thumb up here.

The first few days he had watched her fall, stumble and tumble all over the damn sand. It had caused a few coughing-fitted laughs, she was nothing but stubborn. Learning quickly how to walk on the slippery slopes and getting good boots helped. She barely ate and drank sips here and there. Her once sparkling eyes seemed hollow, the brightness sucked out of them. It was better that way, the Ghoul mulled. She needed to be hollowed out a bit, the spark stamped out some. If Lucy was going to make it top side she needed to be a little harder. Have a little more grit and grime smeared on her. His mind wandered a bit, as minds tend to do on long walks. The look of determination as she mercy killed her Mom, the look now on her face as she marched behind him. It stirred things, things that should have been long dead. But Ghouls were after all base creatures and somewhat humans. He had been stuck in a damn coffin for thirty years. It had been a long damn time since he felt anything soft. The thought of the feel of her face under his hand, then the pain as she bit him. If he lingered on that thought too long it was viable to make for an awkward evening. Not that Vaultie would have any interest in his ugly mug.

A half-ass lean too came into view, a perfect spot to let the Vaultie rest. He could have continued through the night, but she wasn't used to this, so some creature comforts were needed. He sent Dogmeat out to get her own dinner as they walked closer to the place. They both split in different directions circling the place to make sure nothing was hiding out behind the shanty. A custom they had both gotten used to, making sure the place was secure before going in. They met at the back, damn she did look tired. She had pushed the goggles up into her black hair, eyes with dark circles looking back at him. 

He gestured with one leather-clad hand, “Ladies first,”

She rolled her eyes but went inside the little hut, dropping her bag and then herself onto the floor. At least what passed as a floor, was more sand than wood. The Ghoul had made sure Lucy had grabbed a bag, he certainly wasn't carrying all the goods considering she was the one who needed most of it. He also dropped his saddlebag onto the ground stretching his back a bit. He plunked down on the floor digging into the bag he pulled out his cantine of water and took a quick draw of it. Lucy’s arms were draped over her knees, ridiculously large eyes staring out into nothing. 

“You need to eat, and get some water in ya,” The Ghoul tapped her foot with his own.

She barely moved, just staring straight ahead. The Ghoul sighed and rummaged through his bag finding a can of Cram. He shook it against his ear, “Should be okay,” 

Tossing it, so it landed between her legs. She blinked and reached forward grabbing at the can. She cracked it open and stared at the half-dehydrated meat, before reaching in with her fingers and scooping some out. Less than two weeks ago she would have made a face and asked for a fork before touching the stuff. Good girl he mused. 

The Ghoul had stared far too long as he watched her fingers go into her mouth. Her pink tongue poked out to lick away the residue. The slightly purple-gray finger roved around in the tin before she looked up at him. He turned his eyes away, grabbing his can and opening it. The heat burning in his guts pushed down. Yep, it had been way too long. He wasn't stupid enough to stay around to let that heat fester itself into a fire. The girl had been through enough without his dick getting in the way.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Ghoul grumbled and pushed himself up and out of the opening in the wall without another glance. 

****

Lucy watches the Ghoul swish out the door like some leather-clad shadow. She had seen the way his eyes had watched her eat the food. Those gold-colored eyes blown open almost black. It wasn’t the first time she had caught him looking at her. It wasn’t the same way he had looked at her when they first met. The way he sneered down at her like she was less than a roach-slime on his boot. No, this was different. Something was different. Lucy’s mind swept back to her Dad, the piece of crud he was, trying to walk off in a stolen suit of armor. The look on the Ghoul’s face as he realized who it was. The way his eyes had widened with rage, the venom in his voice as he demanded to know where his family was. Two hundred years. He had been around since before the bombs dropped. All he had wanted was his family. 

Lucy could understand, well sorta, she didn’t have answers about her own life. A life that was one big fat mutated lie. She threw the empty can at the wall watching it bounce onto the sand. The last seven days she’d been stuck in her head. Remembering her bother Norm as she left. Wondering how the vault was fairing. Would she ever see them again? Lucy knew the journey ahead could possibly kill her. Actually, the possibility of her dying was high on the list. Surprisingly she didn’t fear death anymore. Death was an easy solution. There was far worse thing than death, she had learned that the hard way. Now sitting here thinking of how the sun had scorched her as she stumbled across ground that felt more like heavy water, not that it was any better at night. Even wrapped in the poncho and sleeping bag she would still feel cold in her bones for hours after she got up. Hot tears were pouring out of her eyes, this stupid wasteland, with its stupid sand, and stupid cruel people. It was all a lie. Their vault was never coming to repopulate America. What even was America? What was any of this? What was she even doing? 

She wiped her eyes and stood up. Lucy wanted answers and she wanted them now, and who better to answer them than the two hundred-plus-year-old butthole sitting outside looking up at the stars. Stopping, she watched him for a moment. Dogmeat was lying beside him, parts of some kind of dead animal beside her. The Ghoul was just staring up at the night sky. Lucy turned and looked up. In all the time, traveling this wretched wasteland, she had never stopped to look up at the sky. Millions of bright twinkling specks lit the sky as the moon crested over the range of ravaged mountains. It was beautiful.

“Guess you’ve never seen the stars before?” Ghoul questioned. Of course, he’d have heard her move, the man, creature, whatever he was, had scarily good perception.

“I never stopped to look at them before. I’ve seen pictures. Movies. But it’s so bright.” 

“Nothin’ better than in person,” He drawled sucking back on a cigarette he had nabbed off another dead traveler. Lucy wondered what it tasted like, and for some reason what the Ghoul would taste like.

She walked over and sat down beside him. Lucy wouldn’t have had very many nice things to say about the Ghoul. But he was all she had. Legitimately. Maybe, Maximus would live, he would come looking for her. But at this very moment, the only thing keeping her from walking into a Radroach den was him. Whatever he thought of her, she didn’t really care. So they sat there looking up at the stars watching the moon move across the night sky. 

She looked over at the Ghoul. He raised his brow, as he sucked back on the cigarette. 

“Could I try that?” Lucy asked bluntly, really there was no need for pleasantries between them. 

He crooked a smile at her handing her the cigarette. “You sure Vaultie? Things can be addictive.”

Lucy placed it between her lips taking a deep drag like she had seen him do. A cough immediately followed as she tried to blow smoke out. The stuff was awful.

Coughing and sputtering she handed the blunt back to the Ghoul. Who of course was laughing at her, as he took it back.

“Little too deep there Ms. MacLean.” He chuckled, taking another suck, his eyes constantly watching her.

Lucy caught her breath and felt a slight buzz start at her temples. She accepted the smoke when he handed it back. Taking a smaller breath was much more pleasant, even if it tasted like ash. The buzz wasn't horrible though.

“Well, I'd never guess Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes would like a smoke.” The man smiled wide, those eyes glistening in the start light.

Lucy shrugged looking up at the stars, before staring right back at him. “Life seems too short not to try new things.”

He may have been a two-century-old Ghoul but he didn't scare her anymore. There were much worse things out in the wastes.

*Hope you enjoyed the read*

Chapter two here

[cuephrase]

2024 Writing Review

tagged in this by @androxys, tysm!!

number of stories posted to ao3: four- three drabbles, one one-shot and one multi-chap fic

word counted posted for last year: 37, 886!! that's so much for me, crazy (both 2022 and 2023 were around 7k, for comparison)

fandoms i wrote for: batman - all media types, babyyyy. two of the drabbles were very comic specific so i have batman (comics) and nightwing (comics) tagged. wait. lmao that was wrong, i've edited it now, was supposed to be batgirl (comics) someone help me oh my god

pairings: we've got two hits for Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, then Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Everyone, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, and Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

so, bc that's giving me a headache, five Dick tags, four Tim tags, four Bruce tags, four Jason tags, and one Cass tag. all but three of those are one fic tho lmao.

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: penance, far and away. that fic got (is getting?) so much more love than i could have imagined or hoped for. absolutely mind-blowing fr

work i’m most proud of (and why): okay so this is a tie between penance and plea for two completely opposite reasons! penance is the first multichap fic i've ever completed and that's a huge milestone for me. plea i'm really proud of bc it's only 100 words but i feel like i managed to accomplish absolutely everything i wanted to and it's sooooooo satisfying to me.

work i’m least proud of (and why): hmmmmm. maybe inventory? it was supposed to be fluff and i corrupted it. so that frustrates me when i think about it even though the finished product isn't bad.

share or describe a favorite review you received: oh gosh ummmmm. help. i really loved every comment letting me know they'd cried real tears bc i am Evil. but if i had to choose one comment, i think this one has stuck with me the most (some parts blocked out bc Spoilers)

the fic has an ending spoiler now that it's complete, but when i was posting it i hadn't totally nailed the ending down. that apprehension meant so much to me, that willingness to follow the story- i could be reading into it idk, but i really value the trust that early readers had because, quite frankly, i don't think i had earned it. i also loved that they both couldn't decide what to think about tim and that they liked it- what i was portraying is messy and complicated and i think there's a really fine line there between stuff being ooc or frustrating or exhausting or dissatisfying with that kind of thing, so it was super !!!!! to have successfully walked that line for them!

but my favorite part of this comment is easily "the power of love is truly an ugly and beautiful thing...made me appreciate life". i don't really write romances, but the power of love is one of those things i end up wrestling with thematically a lot because it's just so captivating and it's one of those things i feel like i can't ever find the words for actually, i need you to just feel it and they felt it and- yeah. just yeah. and then writing/storytelling is something i use to help me appreciate life so overall just 🥹😭🫶 x1000

a time when writing was really, really hard: after i finished penance, rip. i got psyched out by all the positive attention and couldn't write 😅. there were plenty of times this year where i just wasn't trying to write so like i guess that was hard, but being paralyzed by overthinking when i had plenty of ideas and wanted to write Sucked. it's okay, i talked to my therapist finger guns

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: slight penance spoilers lol, but in ch 3, the dick and tim hug surprised me. not that it happened, bc i knew it was going to, but i just had the image of the scene, yk, not like. how it would truly feel to be in dick's headspace in that moment. and omg. it just attacked me. i couldn't stop crying it was so frustrating. i'd pause to collect myself, come back and just nope. the scene is actually shorter than i originally envisioned bc i physically couldn't smh

a favourite excerpt of your writing: oh gosh. um um ummmmmm i really like this bit from ch 1 of penance-

this moment was just incredibly fun for so many reasons, not least of which is that i got to break tim for the first time 😇

how did you grow as a writer last year: i learned that i can, in fact, start and finish something that isn't a one shot. idk if my writing has improved on a technical level at all? but, despite it being a bit of a one step forward, two steps back thing at times, i do think i gained some confidence in my ability to write and that'll be really nice in the long run if i can, yk. take the steps forward without going back.

how do you hope to grow this year: by writing more. i want to actually write things instead of daydreaming and maybe getting down like twenty words and then never looking at it again. at my most ambitious, i build a habit.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): oh shoot. i got so much support from so many people i almost don't know where to start. i am so beyond grateful to everyone who has supported me, and i'm going to single out @a-canceled-stamp, @canonicallyshort, and @koraesrambles for enabling the crap out of me. love you guys sm!!!! (that extends to everyone not just those three ofc!!)

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: the grieving process haha.

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: oh gosh ummmmmm. follow your gut. forget about audience, and rules, and whatever- if you know the story you want to tell, tell that story. just get it out. it deserves to be told.

any projects you’re looking to start (or finish) this year: the sequel to penance. my jason fic, my dick fic. i don't want to get ahead of myself or anything, but i hope i've got a handful of fics to look back on next year!!

no pressure tagging @sunflowersandink, @goldenraeofsun, @fleur-de-violette, @byrambles, and @elegitre (plus everyone already tagged)!!

[eebibly]

The Fairy Tail anime should not have made the Eclipse Spirits arc.

Spoiler Warning

I was super excited for this arc. I knew it was filler and would end up relatively inconsequential to the main story because it can’t (or at least shouldn’t) mess with manga canon, but I felt like the Eclipse designs were really cool (most of them anyway) and the celestial spirits were finally getting the attention that they so deserved! So when I finally got to watching it as the episodes came out week by week, I was so disappointed to slowly witness the anime equivalent of a train wreck that only got worse with every new release.

It’s bad. Might as well start with that. Plain and simple. It’s horrible. It lures the viewer in with an intriguing premise: Lucy’s golden spirits aren’t appearing when summoned, her silver spirits are harmed and in distress. Suddenly, her beloved Zodiacs appear before her —having taken on completely new forms— to declare their freedom from the shackles of celestial contracts; even though they have no memory of Lucy and what they’ve been through together.

And, already, therein lies the anime’s first mistake. The Zodiacs, simultaneously, have absolutely no recollection of their previous lives or masters, and yet also harbour a deeper resentment for both. So much so that they are willing to give up their immortality and lives just for a taste of some ‘true freedom’. This implies that, despite the amnesia, there is deeply-rooted residual trauma that Lucy and friends could have addressed in order to reach out to them. Although Lucy, famous for being especially respectful of spirits, may not have done anything specifically wrong, this could still be a good chance for her to better understand what freedom, bond and loyalty actually mean to her spirits. And then, she could readjust to meet their needs. Instead, the anime gets very stuck by the fact that they’ve forgotten everything. So the spirits just end up sounding like petulant children, covering their ears. The anime can’t decide whether we, the viewers, should be taking their concerns seriously or just feeling bad for Lucy who has to deal with her oddball pesky spirits again- But This Time, They Might Die!! Edition.

One could argue that the anime didn’t want to explore the same concept of freedom 12 times over. Except, they didn’t have to. There are so many different ways to explore what freedom means to each spirit, especially since each one has a room dedicated to them. It’s a perfect yet wasted opportunity to actually delve into each spirit and how they feel about their existence. Some quick, underdeveloped ideas: Leo could have been a reflection on what it means to have power, but the way that that power is used is out of his control; Aries could be a deep-dive into how to deal with abuse and trauma when stuck with a soft heart; Aquarius could have a been a deliberation on independence vs codependence; Virgo— exploring the difference between loyalty and servitude, etc.

One may argue that it would have taken too much time to do that though, considering the allotted amount of episodes for the arc (being 15). But I would argue that some of the *checks Wikipedia* 10.5 extra filler episodes before and after this arc could have been used for this purpose, instead of filling more space with (cute, but mostly mediocre) one-shots that, honestly, could have just been OVAs. I don’t think they’re useless or anything, I just feel that those episodes could have been better spent on making the Eclipse arc actually good. (Except Kemo-Kemo~ sweet baby’s story is exactly where it should be and he deserves so much love.)

However, we instead get a hodgepodge of slapstick gags and situational ironies in nonsensical minigame-esque battles. Taurus getting defeated because he’s a germaphobe? Really? You’d rather make fun of OCD (or other related neurodivergent diagnoses) over just actually having a meaningful conversation about what Taurus wants to achieve out of this rebellion? A boring Game Show where Levy is forced to reveal her oh-so-not-secret crush? Magic The Gathering Scorpio??? Don’t even get me started on Aries and Virgo… On top of that, the characters speak to one another as if they’ve resolved… something (for example, Wendy and Aquarius wanting to play together again someday), and will see each other again in the spirits’ eclipse forms—which I had assume they were trying to revert. Unfortunately, there’s literally no point to any of their bonding… especially after they forget it all when they become normal again anyway.

Not to mention, every other conversation is just a looped wall: “Loke, I’m saving you cuz you’re my friend and Lucy is sad!” - “My name is Leo!!!”; “Virgo, let’s talk, I don’t want you to feel enslaved, I swear!” - “Yeah right, stupid human, have some mayo down your tits”; “Please, Libra, I just wanna be friends again!” - “Shut up, balance is all”. Worst of all, these are the few examples where the humans managed to break through to them minimally. Everyone else simply had no brain cells left and were just like: “Welp, guess I lost. Peace out.” It is just the laziest writing. They even chose to ignore Loke and Gray’s canonical friendship, all for the sake of making Natsu shine again… (listen, I love Natsu- but THE BROMANCE C’MON. It all just felt forced.)

And on top of that, you know all those interesting themes that could have been explored but that ultimately amount to nothing? The story then pivots and decides: “you know what? It actually DOES mean NOTHING!!!” Because (plot twist!) the freedom they actually wanted was from their power-hungry overlord beast of a King! (|Sarcasm incoming->) But of course, that wasn’t a believable enough reason for wanting freedom, and they’d rather die than ask humans for help. (Sarcasm over|) The fact that Ophiuchus tricked them into giving up their lives “for the king” without the Zodiacs realizing is probably the worst plot twist I’ve ever read.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily mind “we did this all for nothing” or “we tried to help but ended leading them to their demise” premises. Having said that, not only was this one poorly executed, but it also removes any reason for the viewer to take the spirits’ concerns seriously. After all, they were just taking out their misunderstood fear on the humans. Their feelings were misplaced, therefore we no longer have to worry about them wanting to actually leave Lucy or choosing to die. Also, why did they hurt the silver keys? Were they just acting out? Were they working under the influence of the king? Or is the implication that it’s actually the king who hurt them? If it was the Zodiac spirits who hurt them, despite the fact that the silvers are also under threat of the beast- WHY???

*siiiiigh*

In short, just because filler arcs should be inconsequential to the canon story line, that doesn’t mean that they can’t have something meaningful to explore or add to the existing story. Instead, Fairy Tail anime decided to waste everyone’s time on half-baked battles, cheap (borderline offensive) gags, and a plot twist that ultimately implies: “if the spirits don’t belong to Lucy (and Yukino), then they don’t matter.” And then— The spirits don’t even remember being saaaaved. *slow clap* Veeeery funny, anime. What a clever clever this-was-all-for-nothing final jest.

[reno2005]

A Tale of Two Pringles

Leon S Kennedy(RE4) x GN!Reader

Words: 645

Summary: things are looking bleak in your desperate search to get your hands on a can of the limited edition suspicious stew pringles

Notes and Stuff: I wanted to imagine that "I thought of you" moment / That swedish game with the blocks and mobs and stuff yknow the one // somewhat inspired by true events(I really did want to try those chips...) / I suck at titles

It was the best of promotions; it was the worst of promotions. There you stood in a sea of salt and crispy potato thins, your disappointment reaching an all-time high as you scanned the aisle in the grocery store for what felt like the third or fourth time. You were dying to try the limited-edition suspicious stew Pringles but every store you went to was sold out or didn’t even carry it. Grocery stores, liquor stores, retail stores, you stopped at every place you could imagine would even have it. None.

Defeated you headed home, head filled with daydreams of the strange and exotic flavors that could have danced in your mouth if you had only learned of the promotion earlier. Even then, scalpers would have gotten it for sure someway or somehow. You tried to comfort your mind on the bus ride home as you listened to the Minecraft soundtrack. You couldn’t have the flavors of the world dance in your mouth but you could at least have the sounds comfort your crying potato chip yearning heart.

You stepped into your apartment and softly announced your presence. Disappointment still eating away at your heart, you didn’t think to listen for a response. Glancing over at the dining room table you saw your laptop open, the screen black. Beside the laptop was the mad scribblings of your master plan, the exact route you’d take to get your hands on this can. You sighed deeply before taking a seat in front of the laptop.

“Fuck it.” You said before turning the laptop on. You couldn’t let a can of potato chips and corporate manipulation get the best of you and your love for the game. Sooner than you expected, the disappointment in your heart and the lack of greasy cholesterol was eating at you just a little less.

Just before you got completely lost in the block world you heard the apartment door open and a familiar voice calmly call out “Hey, I’m home.” Leon walked into the dining room to find you seated in front of your laptop, the Minecraft music blaring from the speakers as he set his things down. “You alright?” He asked slightly concerned at your fixation for the game, he was used to you cheerfully greeting him as he arrived home.

“Yeah, I’m just bummed. I wanted this limited-edition flavor and I couldn’t find it any-“ As you turned to greet him as cheerfully as you could your eyes widened as you spotted the can in his hand. It was the stew. He had the stew. “W-where’d you get that?!?” You stammered as you jumped up.

“Just some random gas station. I actually went to get a cup of Joe and I saw this. Figured you’d like it since it’s Minecraft.” He raised it up towards you as he gave you a soft smile, unaware of the priceless treasure he was easily giving away to you.

You pounced on him, wrapping your arms around him for the strongest hug you felt you’d ever given in your life. “Thank you!” You said as you choked back tears of joy.

“Woah, I think you’re happier to see these chips more than me.” Leon joked as he patted your back, stuck in your hug, although he didn’t try to fight it.

“Of course, not…” you released him and gave a cute pouty face as you looked at the can. “I’ve just been looking everywhere for these and you just waltz on in here with them like nothing.” You paused to look up and smile at him. “Thanks for thinking of me.” You said still fighting back the tears of joy.

“Anytime.” Leon said as he wiped a tear from your face. He patted your shoulder and smiled at you. He looked at the laptop behind you and then back at you. “C’mon, I’ll watch.”

[ghitathepanda]

Sonic characterization thoughts: Emotional Vulnerability edition

Disclaimer: There isn't gonna be me hating on things here, and also, there are no Sonic movie spoilers. Just felt like talking about my views on different interpretations of Sonic. I promise there is no "thing, Japan better" or any other version of this in the following. Also, I am aware that I am pulling some stuff from second-hand information that I've read/heard years ago so I could be talking out of my ass. Anyways, this will be a really long one, so Imma put the "read more" thing here. Also, I will bring up Sonamy in relation to this for example purposes. If you feel about Sonamy the same way a number of Bkdk shippers feel about MHA chapter 431 (which is to feel very angry), don't even bother to continue reading. Now that I've made my stance clear, you can continue should you choose to

Anyways I got out of watching Sonic Movie 3 and two days later I started thinking about the difference in Sonic's characterization not just with the movies but also between Japanese and Western made stuff. My take on that sort of thing is that I'm more open to different interpretations because even in the 90s Sonic has had different interpretations and characterization across various versions, both west and east but I'll probably elaborate on that later.

Point is, I think about how movie Sonic is much more of a chatterbox compared to how I think game Sonic is like, or at least Japanese game Sonic but again, I will elaborate on that too later. Somehow, my brain came to the conclusion that maybe, and I do mean MAYBE, that the movie writers uses western Sonic, or specifically what I think is western classic Sonic, as the blueprint to write their version of Sonic around and evolve. I do admit, I did not watch any of the American 90s Sonic cartoons so my impression of western classic Sonic is based on pop culture osmosis. I just know he's the version that started liking chilli dogs and a big ol chatterbox and has a very 90s feel. Feel free to correct me but even if I'm wrong about that specific aspect, the point I want to make is that Movie Sonic is closer to what I think about the western original depictions of Sonic.

Note that what I'm referring to is just ONE aspect of Sonic's character and also not every western depictions of Sonic is the same. But what I do get is that western-written Sonic can at times feel more emotionally vulnerable compared to Japanese/game Sonic. Not that Japanese Sonic is completely invulnerable emotionally. Just look at Sonic X for examples of Sonic reaching his breaking point both from a comedic (when he's stuck on a cruise ship) and dramatic (Dark Super Sonic) point of view. I use Sonic X because at least in Japanese, because I don't watch the dub, he is meant to be more in line with the game characterization and they pull it off. But in most situations, game Sonic is most likely doing a better job keeping his cool in some situations and meanwhile someone like Boom and/or Movie Sonic will at the very least show a lil more emotion. That being said, even when game Sonic ends up with scripts written in English and then localized to Japanese, they seem to have to abide by guidelines from Japan about characterization, although I could be talking out of my ass. I HEARD from some sources that say Forces has the story treatment or something actually written in Japan and then the Pontaff duo wrote a script based on that and I don't know if the same applies to previous games under their pen but if it's true then you can really see them struggling with a Sonic meant to be closer to his Japanese characterization once Forces came about because you have a Sonic who waxes on about the power of friendship ala Sonic Heroes but it just hits different and also stuff about Sonic looking seemingly fine for someone imprisoned for six months but I dunno how much I heard was true and there are stuff I could have been talking out of my ass for that but anyways, back to emotional vulnerability between versions.

One of the ideas I heard of in regards to Sonic is how he tend to keep his feelings to himself and won't show himself crying and stuff in front of others, which if I'm not mistaken is from one of the Japanese writers or SOMETHING Japan-related. This is kinda in line with the emotional vulnerability thing. I know I've seen artwork of Archie Sonic crying and stuff but idk the context so I won't make assumptipns but I know Movie Sonic at least would be more willing to open himself up emotionally. But Movie Sonic is much more of a kid compared to other Sonics out there. There's also Prime Sonic who is one of the most emotionally vulnerable Sonics and also more reckless because the writers wants to give him an arc. How you feel about it is subjective but claims that try to make it seem that Prime is connected to the games was probably one of the bigger fuels to the characterization discourse. Again, emotional vulnerability isn't the only aspect that separates different depictions of Sonic from one another but it is a factor as to how different versions of Sonic would react to specific situations.

And now we come to Ian Flynn's Sonic. I admit I have not read IDW because I wasn't in the mood for it but I have played Sonic Frontiers. Frontiers is probably the game where Sonic's emotional vulnerability is put to the test the most (or at least one of if you have examples that I am not thinking of). The general idea of what Sonic goes through, like bearing through the pain of his corruption and dealing with his friends' feelings, truly highlights that emotional vulnerability. Can you imagine Boom or Movie Sonic dealing with what game Sonic does in Frontiers? Or any of the Classic versions, both western and Japanese? They could make it through but their attitudes how they'll react to various things would be different. I specifically added the Classics because even if you only account game Classic Sonic whenever he isn't crossing over with Modern, does any version of Japanese classic Sonic subscribe to this idea about his emotions? OVA Sonic I think is the most emotionally vulnerable, specifically among Japanese Classic Sonics but he's also the most fleshed out Japanese Classic Sonic in terms of characterization, only because he has big "I am so done with this bs" energy that can only be matched by Boom. Oh right, Ian Flynn. I probably have more to say if I read the IDW comics but in Frontiers alone, he does a good job at the very least portraying a Sonic closer to at least what I think the Japanese version is like. Maybe not 1:1 but close, at least that's how I feel.

I think one specific part of Sonic's character tied to the whole emotional vulnerability that I haven't discussed? His relationship with Amy. Both Western and Japanese Sonic media have at times played around with teasing the Sonamy ship. On the western side, whenever Boom and the twitter takeovers sometimes do Sonamy teases, Sonic loses his composure a lil quickly but Sonic in the twitter takeovers is also the closest we get to the game incarnation of Sonic to be emotionally vulnerable but also because it's the voice actors messing around having fun. In Japan, well there's a bunch of things we have to cover but we'll start with the Dreamcast era stuff where Amy is one of those people who Sonic can feel annoyed by because of her young crush towards him (let's not forget how old the Sonic characters actually are before they made things vague) but then later, we have Sonic X giving us genuine moments between the two, no jokes to ruin the moment, even dedicating an ending credits sequence for them. The Japanese social media meanwhile ain't afraid of showing off Sonic and Amy stuff together in ways that ain't subtle. And the rare times we have exclusive Japanese Sonic and Amy interactions like with the v-tuber models, the two are much more comfortable with one another, with even Sonic catching Amy off guard once with the birthday cake moment in 2022's Japanese birthday livestream where the Sonamy bit is as subtle as flashing a pink spotlight on a couple. The point is, whenever a Sonamy moment comes up, Japanese Sonic, especially these days, does a better job keeping his composure compared to his western counterpart. Also Jun'ichi Kanemaru and Taeko Kawata sang a song together as Sonic and Amy about "their favourite things". There's a little more you can squeeze out for Sonamy crumbs as well a bit more to how Japanese Sonic acts around Amy.

I only now finally remembered a specific point to make in relation to all this, and it's certain takes on Sonic's character I see on twitter sometimes. The whole idea that he's less of a character and more of an idea or something. To me that feels like a misinterpretation of his seemingly emotional invulnerability but I can MAYBE understand WHY they thought of Sonic that way. They're probably thinking of the Jason Griffith-voiced Sonic who gets roped into other people's troubles and spends part of his adventure spouting his own life philosophies to others and making a change in their hearts while he saves the day with the cutscene presentation making his points feel more dramatic and emotional. Or maybe it's just how Sonic in the games doesn't seem to have a character arc because some people have narrow views about the different ways characters can be written. But no, Sonic is just emotionally strong. He's doing all he can to put the people he's with at ease when things get bad for them, especially those in need of saving. He still can have an attitude and all and be annoyed but when it matters he steels himself to be strong for others.

I probably have something to say about how his VAs handle that sort of thing. Ryan Drummond's Sonic feels very 90s even when listening to him recently doing his Sonic voice. He does get moments where his Sonic tones down the attitude for a more emotional performance but he doesn't really get to act out anything with Sonic involving his emotional strength. Jason Griffith, having voiced Sonic in Sonic X, means he gets to act out the more emotionally vulnerable moments I've mentioned above and his Sonic does evolve throughout the games he's in. I mentioned those games that I THINK made people think Sonic is less of a character and stuff and this is where I think Jason feels closest to Jun'ichi Kanemaru's Sonic in terms of vibe. My favourite Roger Craig Smith Sonic performance is the Boom cartoon, but that's a Sonic that feels very tailor made for him and also he gets to have a lot of range with a Sonic who sometimes loses it in comedic ways. Frontiers is when he is tested with a Sonic that feels closer to the Japanese incarnation in terms of emotional vulnerability and he can pull it off. People have negative things to say about Roger but it becomes clearer to me he just needed the right script to truly show off his worth as Sonic's voice actor. I mainly wanted to focus this paragraph oh game Sonic but I'll give Ben Schwartz a shout out for his Sonic. He pulls off the sincere moments where his Sonic opens up emotionally with others well and fault with him is more so tied to jokes written for him that folks don't vibe with. How could I forget Jun'ichi Kanemaru after talking about the Sonamy duet last paragraph. This man has been with Sonic since 1998 and has evolved and even voiced other versions of Sonic like Boom and Prime. Idk how well he fits Boom tho because the vibe of Boom Sonic's character is different enough that the usual energy I assume Jun'ichi brings doesn't 100% fit. I ASSUME. But point is, his range with Sonic is pretty wide. Idk how much of this is the writing, voice direction or the performance but his game Sonic, especially in the mid-to-late 2000s, just have a very unique vibe that I cannot describe that makes me just automatically switch to Japanese voices in Sonic games whenever I can. His English VAs are NOT BAD, I just vibe with his Japanese voice more.

So where am I going with this? I guess to summarize, I view game Sonic (especially Japanese Sonic) to be one of the most emotionally strong characters I've known. It's not a bad thing for me, at least, that other Sonics aren't as strong. It's just that non-Japanese interpretations of Sonic are more willing to let Sonic be vulnerable emotionally, most likely because writers have different views on what is considered a core aspect of the character.

[ocean--grey]

Here's my attempt at Smegtober 2024's Day 3 prompt, "Parents" :)

Word count: ~1300 words

Warnings: brief mention of Lister and Rimmer's canonically terrible childhoods, Lister leaving the twins behind in the Parallel Universe

Edit: now on AO3 :)

Ten months after one of the strangest mistakes of her life, Deb Lister was convinced she’d never get used to the responsibility of looking after her sons.

It was just under a month after Dave had dropped off the twins – Jim and Bexley – and she hadn’t got a full night’s sleep with all the time she spent fretting over them. They’d arrived almost fully grown, physically eighteen, but had seemingly reverted in every way over the past few weeks into children, an apparent compromise between their recent birth and accelerated ageing due to being born in another universe.

In all fairness, she felt like Dave got the short end of the stick, forced to give away his kids just three days after giving birth to them, never able to see them naturally progress into adulthood. She’d seen the regret in his eyes as he handed them over – it wasn’t as though he had a say in the matter though. The universe had decided his kids wouldn’t survive with him, so it wasn’t like he’d chosen to abandon them. If they’d been conceived in Dave’s universe, he’d have been able to raise them, but then Deb would have been the one to let them go.

Just unfortunate luck, really.

The kind of unfortunate luck that also left Deb herself in an awkward situation: trying to teach the kids. She’d be the first to admit academics weren’t her thing – in the few occasional weeks she’d properly tried to go to school regularly, maths and art were the only subjects she did decently in.

She’d ask Kryten, the newest member of the group, for help, but Deb was still busy replacing her wiring after that crash on the asteroid, and could confidently say that the mechanoid would be out of commission for a while longer.

Dog wouldn’t be great with teaching the kids phonics and the like - he communicated mainly through smells rather than words, and thought human books were for decorating the floor of the bunkroom like confetti.

Hilly was no help either. Still hung up on the doppelgänger crew’s computer, he’d changed appearances to mirror the object of his affection and skulked off to the furthest corners of Red Dwarf’s electrical system to read Anthony Christie novels in peace, occasionally turning up to snark and bemoan about his lost love.

This process of elimination left Rimmer. God, Deb didn’t even want to think about what her roommate would consider a good quality education. Probably teach the twins twice-daily mandatory Ionian etiquette lessons, threaten to toss them out an airlock if they didn’t pronounce stuff with that nasally stuck-up accent of hers, stuff like that. Actually, Lister bet the smeghead would probably turn her nose up at stooping so low from her post as to actually help her roommate out with Jim and Bexley.

Which was why, all things considered, when Arlene actually offered to teach the kids the month after they arrived, and was a damn great teacher at that, Lister was gobsmacked.

Somehow, the smeghead managed to command the attention of the twins enough to get them writing full sentences within a few weeks. She’d screech in horror, of course, whenever they got something even slightly wrong (which Lister had been worried about at first) but somehow it seemed a comical kind of screech rather than her usual demeaning one. Mock horror, almost.

Whatever it was that made Rimmer such an great teacher for the boys, it made the lessons entertaining enough that soon Jim kept coming up to Rimmer to show her short stories he’d shakily written, or Bexley would grab her attention with an “Auntie Arlene, look at this new word I can spell!”

Oh yeah, and the “Auntie Arlene” remarks kept coming. It seemed the boys considered their temporary teacher almost as much of a parental figure as Deb herself.

Which, of course, Lister was completely fine with, totally. Didn’t feel threatened at all, actually.

So when Jim asked her one night, when she tucked the twins into bed, “Mum, do you and Auntie Arlene not like each other?”, she swallowed down an immediate scathing retort and instead muttered “We have our differences, but don’t fret about it, ‘kay?”

The next day she’d cornered Rimmer on the main deck.

“Why the smeg do the kids like you so much? What can you offer them that I can’t?”

Rimmer’s lips had curled at this. “Instilling a good sense of hygiene, perhaps? Or maybe a comprehensive understanding of the importance of structure and law-abiding?”

“Rimmer, the only laws you actually follow to a T are the ones you’ve implemented yourself! Besides, stuff like that doesn’t really matter when there’s only us on the ship.” She scrambled to speak again as Rimmer’s nostrils twitched. “Also, it’s not like you can offer them any comfort. Emotionally you’re a wasp’s nest on the best of days, and you’re not even physically here!”

Rimmer’s mouth gaped open like a suffocating fish, before pursing tight. “Thanks for reminding me of my death, you goit! My, you lack so much tact its value’s practically negative. Great example for your kids, aren’t you?”

With that, the hologram stormed off through a wall.

Lister found her a few hours later, after tucking the twins into bed. Rimmer had been slinking around the fuel decks, apparently sulking silently except for a few half-hearted attempts to kick at the pipes along the walls – unsuccessfully, of course. By the time Lister found her, she had slid down a wall, staring down at her lap.

Deb crouched beside her before slouching against the wall too, curling her body in to face Rimmer. Letting out a sigh, she began.

“Listen Rimmer, I went too far back there. Honestly, I feel like I’m not handling this well – any of it actually. I’m so scared I’ll be an awful parent to the twins –”

“You’re not, though.”

Deb’s rant careened off its tracks and exploded, leaving only debris behind.

“… Eh?”

“You’re not. An awful parent, I mean. You’re still learning and, considering the general lack of support around here, you’re doing pretty fine.”

“Thanks. I think?”

Rimmer’s eyes rolled. “That was actually a compliment, directed towards you, from me. Yes I know, it’s impossible!” A grin flickered across her face for a split second, before returning to a careful neutral expression as she resumed studying her lap. “Besides, you’re doing better than I ever could by myself.”

Deb hesitated, then replied “Honestly, I’m not doing it all by myself. You’ve actually been a lot of help. Look,” here she uncurled her body, and Rimmer’s eyes connected with hers, “you’re not half bad either, considering what you’ve told me about your mum. I think all things considered we’re both doing a decent job, eh?”

Rimmer nodded, seemingly only half listening as she kept locking eyes with Lister.

“Listen, I’m sorry I said that smeg earlier. I just… don’t want to feel like I’m failing the boys in any way, and seeing them so excited to talk with you about your lessons and stuff made me think you were…”

Rimmer cut in harshly, “What, trying to steal them away from you?”

“A bit like that, yeah. But not only that? I was expecting you to make parenting into a kind of competition between us, y’know, who can help the kids grow and develop better than the other, the kind of smeg you used to pull all the time.”

“Key phrase there being used to.”

“Well, still do it sometimes, don’t you?” Lister chuckled.

The conversation faded as they listened to the pipes hum for a minute. After a while, Rimmer replied.

“Well, I’m not planning on making this a competition. Not this time. Too much at stake, the kids and all that. Wouldn’t want to mess them up over petty rivalry.”

“Nah, we wouldn’t.”

“So… truce?”

Deb felt the weight on her shoulders loosen, even if only by a tiny bit. “Sure.”

She spat on her hand, and reached out to shake. Rimmer rolled her eyes again and gestured down at her hologrammatic body. Lister paused for a second, then announced to the room “Hilly, can you seal the deal for us?”

She strolled away, chuckling once more, to the sound of her roommate trying to stifle her own guffaws even as she tried to shake the spit off her hand.

[queen-tashie]

Happy Storyteller Saturday! I'd love to hear about your earliest writing attempts! How old you were when you started writing, what you wrote about, the first story you finished, etc... feel free to ramble on :)

Happy Storyteller Saturday!

My absolute earliest writing was way back somewhere between grade 2 and 4 (ages 7-9ish). I tried writing my own episode of Pokemon as a picture book. (I thiiiink my parents still have it somewhere, I kind of want to take a look at it again).

I didn't really write much back then, I was more into drawing line art and making OCs that way. When I got to grade 4 or 5ish I stopped reading on my own almost completely, besides an occasional book or two, and I was more likely to read non-fiction to learn about animals (like sharks. I really like sharks.). I think as I stopped reading I also stopped writing, because I didn't start reading for pleasure again until I was 15. And then suddenly I started writing again.

Around then I mostly read YA fantasy in my free time, so I started writing a story about dragons (two brother dragons, Valdore and Arian, their father Failias, and their mother S... something with an S at least. (I could literally check this right now but I just had a huge meal and I'm feeling sluggish haha). Ok it was bugging me not knowing and I got up to look for it (and it took like 5 minutes instead of the 10 seconds I thought it would lol) and her name was Sarhina. I attempted this story a couple times but was fully pantsing it, not really sure which direction to go in. I wrote about three or four very, very short chapters before I started writing something else. Valdore was one of the OCs I had come up with back in elementary school, I think as young as 6 years old, so I was still happy that I attempted writing a story about him.

The next story I wanted to write was a futuristic apocalypse story where the main characters fought demons as they came out at dawn. This one I progressed even less than the dragon story, the OCs were much newer. Originally I had called this story Survival of the Fittest, then I changed the premise completely to the main characters either appearing in a new world or already living there (I suppose it was a genre change to a portal fantasy). I kept some of the apocalyptic vibes the same, the world had time seasons that went through the life and death of the ecosystem and structures on the land, then back to rebirth. One season was new growth, buildings were small but structurally sound, even people felt refreshed. Another season was abundance, buildings were large and had character to them, people felt their best and were at their strongest. The third season was scarcity and death, buildings crumbled from age, people were struggling to survive. Then it would start again with the rebirth of the land. Again, didn't really know where I was going with this story but the world building was much better developed than the first.

Somewhere in between both of these stories in my teens, I wrote some more Pokemon fanfic that I had started to share on DeviantArt.

There were also a half dozen or so other WIPs that I had started and didn't get further than a paragraph or two. For some reason I deleted many of these :(

Then the first novel-length story I ever finished is (BEING RELEASED TOMORROW!!!!) The Quiet Forest. Runnicka is an old OC from my elementary school drawings (though she's changed since then, I happened to get an ask earlier today that reminded me of this). It took me 11 years to finish writing it (from drafting to giving up and redrafting to finally writing my first outline to finishing the actual first draft, then many, many edits), plus a year to query over 100 agents. It's the longest I've ever stuck to anything before, and so it's been a huge accomplishment finishing it, finishing querying, and now deciding to share it online (more about the story here).

I've had a series of smaller writing wins (ie finished stories) before The Quiet Forest was finished, though! I wrote about 10 flash fictions in 2020, some that I'd like to revisit and edit to better match my current writing skill level. One of them is already ready to read on my AO3 account! And last year I wrote over 80k words between two first drafts for two separate novels, and two finished short stories, one a Legend of Dragoon fanfic (also on my AO3), and another that I wrote as a writing sample for a contract writing position (almost got in but there were hundreds of entries and only about 5 or 6 spots), but I am working to get it published! And speaking of publishing, in 2023 I got randomly inspired to write All You Hear Is My Voice which got published early this year. It's a sci fi/speculative romance where a lonely queer man has reverse telepathy--instead of hearing everyone's thoughts, he's involuntarily projecting every thought he has into the minds of others nearby. Makes it hard for him to meet understanding people, and even harder to date. The thing that makes it sci fi is that it takes place on Mars :)