#was the most fun part of writing this

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[estrellami-1]

Lavender Letters

To those of you who celebrate, who have something worth celebrating… happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else, happy random Thursday!

Part 8

“S-something else?” Steve parrots.

“That’s right. I’m going to put my hand on your body.” He grabs Steve’s wrist, grins at the gasp that gets him. “And you tell me if you like it there. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“So how about here?” He tightens his grip, smiles at the whine Steve lets out.

“Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I know you do, sweet boy. You’re so expressive.”

“Eddie-”

“Mhm?” He pulls back a little, enough to see Steve’s face. Steve just gasps, little breaths in and out. “You like sayin’ my name, sweet thing?” He pulls Steve’s hand behind his back and nudges forward, causing them to brush together. He inhales shakily as Steve moans quietly. “You got an upstairs we can go to, sweetheart? Somewhere I can take you apart?”

Steve sways forward, catching himself just before their lips brush. “I’ve- I’ve got a room upstairs,” he says. “But I’m not- I can’t-”

Eddie pulls his hand to his side again, locks their fingers together. “You can’t?”

“They’re gonna hear.”

“How do you feel about gags?”

Steve shakes his head. Even the thought seems to clear his head some. “No gags. Or- or blindfolds. Or restraints.”

“But my hand around your wrist?”

“That’s fine. You’re touching me. But- but no restraints that aren’t you. Or, um. I could try? If you want me to grab the headboard and not move. I could try.”

Eddie hums. “Nah, I think I like you touching me too much. But we’re out of luck until the party’s over, huh?”

Steve turns sad eyes up at him, nods.

Eddie smiles, touches his finger to Steve’s chin. “That’s alright. We can take it slow for a couple of hours. Get to know each other even better.”

Steve smiles. “Like what?”

Eddie hums exaggeratedly, tapping his finger on his chin. “Favorite sound?”

Steve laughs. “I have two. First is rain. I love hearing rain, especially as I’m falling asleep.”

“Nothing better,” Eddie agrees. “And your second?”

Steve colors. “When Robin sleeps over she talks in her sleep sometimes, and I’ll wake up to hear it. And it reminds me that I’m safe.”

Eddie smiles. “My favorite sound is Wayne’s snoring. It’s not overly loud, but sometimes I’ll sit just behind my door and listen to him sleep until I’m close enough to get back into bed and drift off. I think it’s sweet that Robin’s yours.”

Steve looks down. “Would it bother you if I could never listen to your music? Or never learned how to play DnD?”

“Would you let me rant to you about it? You wouldn’t even have to pay attention, really, or remember anything. Just let me talk at you about it, and don’t get annoyed when I want to talk about it.”

“Of course.”

Eddie grabs his hands, smiles. “Then I promise to do the same about whatever you want.”

Steve grins. “Even if it’s sports?”

“I’ll even watch it with you,” Eddie promises.

“You will?”

“I mean, I’ll at least sit in the same room. No promises that I’ll remember anything.”

“That’s okay. Robin’s the same way. Lucas—did I tell you about him? L?”

Eddie hums. “I think so… most polite? Wicked sharp tongue? Is that him?”

Steve beams. “Yeah, exactly! He likes sports, basketball, and sometimes we’ll play together.” He angles a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a hoop in the back. He’s getting really good.”

“I should hope so, if he’s playing with you. How about football?”

Steve hums. “I like watching it, but playing it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the concussions I have.”

“Wayne likes watching it, too. Maybe you could come over, watch a game with him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Steve’s eyes shine. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He leans sideways against the counter, facing Steve. “Can I ask about the concussions? Or NDAs?”

Steve deflates. “I want to tell you.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Besides the fact that I fully believe the government’s got ears here? I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

Eddie hums, leans closer. “Well either way, I’d like to take you out one day in my van. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, where you can be as loud as you want.” He leans in and whispers, “or say whatever you want.” He pulls back with a smirk. “What do you think?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I think I want to kick everyone out,” he murmurs, “but I also think Robin would never let me live it down if I did.”

Eddie chuckles, pulls away. “Drink your water,” he suggests. “Let’s take some time, dance a little. Socialize. Let Robin know I’m here for a good time and a long time.”

Steve takes a few big gulps of water. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” he says slowly. “In the best way possible.”

Eddie grins sharply at him. “That’s the plan, big boy.”

He winks.

Steve gulps.

This is going to be fun.

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[mbirnsings-71]

"I will fall in love with you, over and over again."

"'Would you fall in love with me again?' The question is spoken quietly, even though there's no need for quiet, but something about how gently it's asked shakes Eddie. 'You ask that as if I would ever fall out of love with you, Buck.' 'Haha very funny, now humor me. Would you fall in love with me again?'" -------------------------------------- Basically Buck asks Eddie a question and Eddie answers it as best as he can for him.

Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Tags: Cuddling & Snuggling, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Abandonment Issues, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Self-Worth Issues, if you squint cause like it's just a throw away sentence but yeah, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, they just love each other basically, that's it that's the whole fic they just love each other, and reassure each other that they would always love each other, No Beta We Die Like Buck did for three minutes and 17 seconds, or how Bobby did for like 15 minutes, Post-Episode: s08e08 Wannabes (9-1-1 TV), cause I mention it soooooo yeah gotta tag that appropriately, Canon Compliant, Kissing, just one kiss but it should be tagged, One Shot, Praying they aren't super OOC! We will see, first published work in this fandom so please be nice!

Complete | 1,714 words | Read on Ao3

[measurelessdreamer]

Part II of my musings about my scogan kid fic idea (read part I here)

It’s very delicate. And Logan doesn’t deal with delicate. He can deal with force and dangerous and what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger. A four-year-old girl calling him “dad” is nowhere near any of these things.

And Summers must know how much of a deal this is because he’s quiet the whole time they walk to his office to talk, for which Logan didn’t ask but Scott offered anyway, without the typical stoic composure Logan was used to seeing on him.

Then they get there and neither of them can really sit down or start because where do you start after seeing something like this? After apparently living in a universe where time-travel is possible and it happens to be your damn luck that you have to live with its consequences?

And Logan realises that Scott could ask first. He wasn’t there when Logan talked about his timeline with Charles and as far as the little girl goes, calling Scott “papa” is on the same spot of “urgent” as calling Logan “dad” is.

But Summers speaks in the end and, surprising no one, he decides to be unselfish and asks Logan what he wants to know. Logan gives him a look that must speak for itself because Summers clenches his jaw but still waits and Logan hates him but not really and so he asks, “The girl. Who is she?”

And Scott says that her name is Kayla (because I happen to be a big fan of Wolverine: Origins and I always have been ever since I saw it when I was, like, thirteen, and despite all the sad stuff about Kayla, I loved the message of her words to Logan that he’s not an animal and I think it would be nice to have that message survive in a little girl who at some point learned to love him enough to call him dad because if that doesn’t say he’s not an animal, then I don’t know). It might warrant a reaction from Logan right away. He might know what the name means, the Logan of this timeline probably didn’t (but it’s possible he doesn’t know either).

So he asks who gave her that name, to which Scott replies that he chose it and Logan asks why they would let him and Scott says because he was the one who found her. There is something Summers isn’t saying, though, and although Logan can tell, he lets it go this time.

Found her? he asks next and Scott says I assume you’re familiar with the name “Stryker”, to which Logan lets out one of his claws, the middle one, akin to all those years ago on the Liberty Island and he doesn’t know what he expects, but the soft smile that graces Scott’s face before it is squashed down by the cold calculated look was definitely not it.

Then Scott reaches under his desk and unlocks one of his drawers and pulls out a thick file with the huge red stemp of “classified” written over it and he pushes it closer to Logan. It says “Weapon XII” on the front and Logan bristles and almost lets out all of his claws.

He doesn’t reach for the file and Scott probably didn’t even expect him to because he goes on, unprompted, and says that the project was meant to be a continuation of the previous one, of designing a mutant who would be able to hold and control multiple abilities at the same time. The previous project made them aware they could change one mutant. Now, they wanted to know whether they could fully create one and raise them to be their perfect soldier.

For that, they needed a suitable collection of DNA from mutants they knew existed because it turned out that not every ability was compatible with the rest of them.

When Logan asks how they found out, Summers says it’s in the file and then clenches his jaw when Logan just says he’s not reading it. Then Scott says there were multiple test subjects that were biologically engineered in different ways so they knew where to push their limits. At the time, Kayla was being referred to as “12.9” and she was the only one they found at the facility. The rest were defined in the file as “failed” and “closed” and Logan really feels slashing through something right now.

Scott says she was merely six-months old when she was found by them. They didn’t know who she was but the following days were a bit self-explanatory when she teleported a meter away right in front of their eyes and shot red beams from her eyes at a toy she didn’t particularly like.

Her powers were meant to manifest early so Stryker’s people knew if she could harness all the powers they engineered her with without dying. It was a long process of deciding which ones she had to have and which ones she didn’t. All of the children had Logan’s, though, and as much as there indeed is no adamantium in her body, it was the plan to put it into her once she grew up. Putting it into her now would prevent her from her natural development and result in her death. Logan says, “Don’t tell me they found that out the hard way,” to which Scott replies, “What do you think?”

So, what, is she a clone? Logan asks after Scott explains the rest and Scott says, Yes, in a sense.

What do you mean? She either is or she ain’t!

Clones are usually of “something” and are meant to resemble that something to perfection. She has so much of other people in herself that no one would be able to pin point what she is a clone of.

As much as it clears up a few things about her to Logan, there is a lot Scott doesn’t mention that day or the ones that follow. He doesn’t say that it was actually the two of them together who found her and not just Logan. He doesn’t reveal that her first days here were a pretty accurate depictions of hell and that Logan’s healing factor came especially in handy and she also sort of seemed to cry a lot less when she was in Scott’s arms compared to everyone else’s. And he doesn’t say anything about the fact that, yes, as much as her DNA is comprised of DNA of other mutants, the percentages vary and there are two sets of DNA she has more of than from others and there is a reason why her eyes are so blue and why she purposefully has weaker versions of all her mutant abilities aside from her healing factor and heightened senses.

Part III

[fadetouchedsilk]

im not sure how to parse this exactly (probably since the thought hasn't marianted fully yet) but i wonder if the tone of veilguard's writing is less about appealing to a younger audience and more of a response to falling media literacy rates

kind of thinking out loud here but like.

i'm recalling the girl on booktok who proudly annouced that she only reads the spoken dialogue in her books, not the narration & the people in her comments laughing and agreeing (no wonder they can 'read' so many books per year, they're only reading 25% of the words). or 'starting to think some of you don't like media or characters, just fanfiction tropes.' you can hand someone like that a complex narrative, but what are they going to do with it aside from completely & happily misunderstand things that are very obvious context clues & themes? we can joke about the fandom mischaracterizing our blorbos & trying to be cool about just scrolling past but idk, personally i feel like i've seen an uptick in completely off-base takes in the last few years (probably some fandom bias there but this isn't my first time playing dragon age or narrative driven games in general so i don't think i'm entirely wrong)

it doesn't help that this group also loves to be loud online & the bioware devs (to their ongoing detriment) seem to be unable to distance themselves from fandom. we saw larian's response to this type of outcry, i wonder if bioware is just trying to get ahead of the curve. they make some questionable decisions, but they aren't stupid & i don't think people like that are especially hard to market to from their standpoint.

i don't think that older titles like dao are perfect or anything but i sincerely doubt that large swaths of current audiences would 'get' it. like, there IS a lot of narrative hand-holding in this game & i'm not talking about things like the map markers or accessibility features. 'do the companion quests!' you get told multiple times, more or less outright, & i'm still seeing people confused about getting 'bad' endings despite ignoring this incredibly obvious series of hints. there's a fair amount of information to be found in the codexes, but are people going to read them? we don't know, so we're going to repeat the relevant item name several times over on the off chance you might end up remembering it. like yes this is some people's first foray into rpgs, but you would think that progressing the story would be intuitive (especially given the structure & the journal itself).

the 'the curtains were blue!!!' crowd is unfortunately a very large audience these days, ea is a corporation who wants to make money & they do need that if they intend to keep making games. it might not even be intentional, it truly could just be the result of following market trends.

don't take this as me making excuses for bioware or anything, but there's definitely some sort of reason we ended up the way we did. i see the scaffolding of something interesting here with a lot of potential to be better than what the final product was, a lot of hooks we could have spent more time chasing & that leads to me wondering just what the hell happened.

[optiwashere]

Huh, I didn't even realize it'd been a year since BG3 came out until I opened tumblr this morning. Kinda wild. I didn't think much of the game's release: I like Larian's games, and I like the BG series. I wasn't ever going to skip the game, but I didn't think I'd play it at launch because I was busy working on a novel in 2023 and not doing well financially.

Thankfully, circumstances left me with a little bit of extra money last year just before launch and it meant I could spend on a video game. I needed a pick-me-up after said 2023 novel failed to go anywhere, and BG3 was right there. Like most CRPGs, I played it in basically every moment of free time that I had and did as much as I possibly could in one playthrough.

It's so odd how these small happenstances can snowball into coming back to fandom, finding some friends I might've never met otherwise, and writing a lot of fanfiction along the way. I'll probably have something more interesting to say/share when it's the 14th, AKA when I sat down and wrote my first fic for this fandom.

Anyways, it's been a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to more years to come 💜

[ragnarokhound]

Hi wife! Thinking about you. Should we buy a hot tub? Or a sauna? Or both?

Also thinking about the werewolf fic. I would be delighted if there was full werewolf smut in the werewolf fic👀👀 When will my wife (you) return from the war (writing the werewolf fic)?

Also thinking about the hilarity of tim hearing jason talk about his “time of the month” and ofc assuming it’s about Jason being trans when jason is talking about wolfing out. Picture:

Tim: “-and I brought chocolate-“

Jason: “Are you trying to kill me? canines can’t have chocolate!”

after some confusion they clarify things (jason is trans, not a big deal, he’s a werewolf, also not a big deal). Then (important for plot and character development) they have dirty dirty werewolf sex :)

Hehehe hello darling, you are always near my thoughts <3 And ohhh I could use a dip in a hot tub, especially now that winter has come to my climes >.< Though I fear a sauna would never see its use with me, haha

I am ALSO thinking about werewolf fic. Nigh constantly these days. I am deep in the trenches. I am furiously pondering how to reconcile the idea I had sketched most of the bones of almost an entire year ago with what I think and like now. It's been a bit of a battle. One I am fighting... tooth and claw you might say ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ (badum tsh)

Alas, while I don't want to give too much away, I feel I must warn you that the kind of werewolf Jason is in werewolf fic is more in line with 'that's just a wild animal' and less 'monsterfucker furry.' So while we'll see some very animalistic behaviors from Jason (what with the scenting and the licking and the biting and the growling etc) and some occasional signs that he's on the verge of wolfing out, there is no actual wolfed out smut lmao OTL. Please enjoy a small sneak peek of what I kind of sort of mean at the bottom of this post <3

For actual werewolf smut you'll want to look forward to the timestamp/smutty sequel I fully intend to write for my vamp!Tim and werewolf!Jay fic, in which he is absolutely the monsterfucker furry kind of werewolf and Tim takes gleeful advantage of that fact lololol (but werewolf fic comes first...! It Is Time. I Will Not Be Distracted.)

And omg yes. I do very much love the trans 🤝 werewolf overlap and metaphors, it's one of my favorite things fr fr (you got me thinking about trans lesbians jaytim now--)

I LOVE assuming there's a mundane explanation for a supernatural secret, that's my JAM (Do know that our early correspondences live rent free in my WIP document and that I would eventually also like to write the goofy sitcom-esque romcom in which Jason isn't quite hiding his lycanthropy from Tim - but Tim's not really clocking it either lmfao)

--and it must be said that dirty dirty werewolf sex will always be VITAL to both plot and character development <33 (it certainly is to werewolf fic, even if the werewolf part of that sex is mostly in the vibes lolol)

Anyway, here's wonderwall a sneak peek leading up to some of the smut in werewolf fic:

Jason snaps his teeth sharply, inches from Tim’s throat. It's not an empty gesture, and Tim wildly thinks through his options, squeezing tight with his knees around Jason’s thick waist so he can’t buck Tim off immediately. Jason is too strong and Tim is too light; he can’t stay here forever. Jason writhes underneath him, looking for leverage. With his shoulders trapped under Tim’s staff, Jason plants his feet and surges his hips in a powerful, cresting motion. Tim sinks back on his haunches to keep him down, then forward again when he threatens to break free. In Jason’s struggle, he rocks up just as Tim rocks down— and they inadvertently grind together. Tim's stomach curls and tangles in an electric jolt of heat at the glancing friction. He realizes with a spike of hot, mortified shame that he's— Tim is hard under his uniform. He sucks in a short gasp, trying to hide it, and Jason— —whines.

[carlyraejepsans]

Do you enjoy underfell? I thought you disliked aus /genq

i don't dislike the concept of AUs itself, I'm just not a fan of like... the subculture that spawned around them in the UT fandom specifically and how it eventually took over almost all canon content (especially when it limits itself to the bros)

i like aus visually! i am an artist at heart after all. it's just that, if I'm going to care about them as stories and not just fun design ideas, my bar is uhh almost impossibly high the further you move from canon lolol.

[flovoid]

YOUR ORIGIN: PROLOGUE

[mering]

even the dogs!

[fictionadventurer]

If Laura Ingalls Wilder had written The Wizard of Oz.

Kansas would be portrayed as a wondrous, beautiful place at least as good as--or better than--Oz.

Dorothy would come from a very devoted loving household.

Her father would be in the house with her when the tornado hit and would be her guide and protector through all their adventures.

Dorothy would absolutely still have a devoted dog.

Dorothy would not go to the Wizard to ask for help. The "kill the Witch" requirement (or some other quest) would be presented early on as the condition she had to fulfill to earn her way home.

Instead of giving life and backstories to inanimate objects (like the land of the porcelain figurines), the people and creatures Dorothy would meet would provide explanations for things that happen in nature (like, explain where the colors of sunset come from).

[ndostairlyrium]

A little preview of the pic I've done for @daflowerzine 👀

You need to keep an eye on that, because of the care and quality of the writing and the illustrative works inside 💛🌸

[hulloitsdani]

i want to know your anna thoughts so bad hi.

Hullo! Sure I can provide some Anna thoughts! I have so god damn many. Some other characters are also going to work their way in here too, if you don’t mind. And buckle up, this is gonna be a long one. I got a whole short story for y’all here.

Without further ado, I present to you: The Commander Anna Post

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

So in the age discussion of the feh main cast from a while back, I mentioned how I accounted for Anna’s bizarre position in Askr’s military by making her a child soldier. She has been fighting since she was a young teenager and has logged a decade of combat experience at this point.

I want there to be some fun consequences for this. For example, Anna is rocking some very serious injuries that will likely be with her for the rest of her life. Most notable being her left shoulder. Just by looking at her in full commander regalia, it’s not obvious that there’s any kind of issue. But Anna can’t lift her left arm all the way anymore. Her armor does an excellent job covering up the inconsistency, as it doesn’t allow for that level of mobility anyway. But take the armor off and you can see her shoulder is an absolute mess. It is, and I quote, “the worst healing job I’ve ever seen” according to Veronica.

It’s a bizarre sight for the kid. It’s not the type of thing she expected to learn about an enemy commander. Perhaps THE enemy commander. But in this situation that hardly matters, as she is the group healer as they all trek deeper into the realm of the dead. And Veronica is tending to her wounds only to find the pitiful scarred skin, warped and uneven from a hastily rushed healing process. It’s from a long time ago, she explains. From when she was still just a foot solider. But that… doesn’t make sense does it? Was Bruno not her ally? He has the capacity to heal— he was the one who taught Veronica the little she knows. Even his worst attempts were leagues better than the work done here.

Anna can only shrug, a motion made mostly with her right shoulder. He didn’t reveal that he was a mage of any kind while he was with them. So, even if he wanted to, there’s a chance he could not afford to. Veronica doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s this… uncomfortable knowing between the two of them. They know now, in retrospect, that swallowing down the truth like that must have ate Bruno alive. Just another reason for his sorry state that they didn’t catch until it was nearly too late. Add that to the pile of tiny behaviors that now make sense, right? The intensity of his expression as he insisted Veronica learn how to heal despite her protests and the daggers he’d stare into the intricate scaring on Anna’s shoulder. Throw them all in. Every last piece.

Commander Anna looks at the princess and unexpectedly breaks the tension with a laugh. You see, it’s funny, because this is exactly how she started to figure out Zacharias was Bruno. Very few know about her shoulder. She’s not exactly brazen about it, nor do the people she interacts with have the medical knowledge to glean how serious it is. She doubts even Kiran knows, to be honest. The only person who knows without a shadow of a doubt is Zacharias, because he was there when it happened. He’s probably the reason why she survived that day at all. So, you must imagine her surprise, when a masked stranger targeted this weakness and forced her to fight left handed. It was the most bizarre fight of her life! Fighting someone who clearly knew her, but she herself could not place!

Veronica was not there, but she can picture the lunacy of it. Bruno fighting his comrade as the commander attempted to fight a stranger. She hasn’t really seen Anna entirely thrown off before, but knowing that her brother managed it brings her satisfaction. She deserves it after all the times her and the rest of these fools have done it to Veronica. Feels like comeuppance. She chuckles. They both do. Gods she’s having a moment with the enemy commander. What has the world come to?

Fjorm has a far less positive reaction to piecing it together. After the events of book 2, she knows her time is short. She… cannot face the remains of her family in this state. It would be a slow painful death to rot away behind castle walls and wheeze into soft silks. No, she would much rather die on her feet. Put her body to good use while it’s still able.

So she trains. She trains until she feels her bones threaten to snap. She must have been at it for hours before the commander offers to spar her. With how busy Anna normally is, it’s a rather rare opportunity to spar one on one. Fjorm instantly leaps for the chance.

So they fight, and Fjorm can see it. The way her left arm lags and the scarring that curls out from beneath her sleeve. Burns maybe? Possible electricity? Clearly an old injury from a mage. A weakness in her defenses that she can exploit, surely.

Anna makes no such thing possible. Maybe she learned since her fight with Bruno or maybe Fjorm isn’t fast enough to take advantage of it, but Anna easily evades any attempt to use this against her. Focusing her left just seems to earn Fjorm a swift jab in return. From there, the fight might already be over. Anna’s left arm might be lacking but her legs and mobility sure aren’t. She takes the opportunity to effortlessly bully her way into Fjorm’s space and renders her lance useless. It’s infuriating, but Fjorm is learning. She can do this— she has to. Ten losses deep is when Anna calls it. They put good work in and it’s time for lunch!

Fjorm is ready to throw her lance into the sun.

She insists she can keep going, but the commander is not budging. Still, she tries to push her luck. But once a look of annoyance makes a home on her features, Fjorm knows that’s it. Another disappointing loss. Damnit. She turns to find someone else to spar, but is very surprised to find Anna will not allow such a thing. They are both going to take a break, or Fjorm might find herself barred from the training grounds. She states that if Fjorm cannot be trusted to keep her own wellbeing in mind, then she cannot be trusted out here at all.

However, Anna provides her with a singular counter offer. This can all be avoided if Fjorm tells her what’s wrong. Because she isn’t stupid, something is clearly amiss. And Fjorm— at wits end and most definitely exhausted, dehydrated, and starving—flips her lid a bit. Begins to go off. She’s angry at Anna, and her stupid backswing with her axe, and her own inability to deal with it despite her inherent disadvantage with a lance, and how she keeps failing in front of the people here, and how weak she must appear, and how even the commander of an army in Askr is outclassing her as a warrior and leader, and how she can’t even hate her for it because Anna is just doing her job, and how that all means that the problem must lie within herself!!!

That’s, uh, wow. That’s more than Anna bargained for. She briefly internally wishes that Kiran or Sharena was here right now, as they’re far better at this type of thing. Maybe… she should just go for the most obvious one, yeah? Yeah! Anna isn’t a leader. Commanding people and leading them are vastly different skills. Complimentary! But different.

Look, on ledger, the order entirely under her name, but in practice it is run by four people. Alfonse, Sharena, Kiran, and herself. And it very much HAS to be. The order operates at such a large scale now that the division of labor was necessary. Anna is not so egotistical to think she could run this whole operation by herself, either.

This includes the actual leadership position of the order. Anna is very good at telling people what to do and when to do it, but actually rallying people to a cause? That’s wayyy above her pay grade. Hardly has the force of personality to pull that off. But the others do, and so does Fjorm. Hell, Fjorm has that is SPADES. Despite having lost just about everything, she managed to rally her broken beaten homeland against Surtr and Muspel through sheer force of will. That’s kind of insane, and it’s a little bizarre to the commander that the savior of Nifil can’t see that.

Besides, she’s not a better fighter than Fjorm either. She quite physically can’t be! Fjorm is angry that she couldn’t defeat her in less than ideal circumstances, but let’s be real, all she needs is a little practice. And maybe a full eight hours of sleep. And some food. And water. Can you see what she’s putting down here? The only real leg up Anna has on Fjorm is that she’s going to ask for help, despite the heavy hit to her ego. It’s why the order exists as it does, after all.

That conversation leaves Fjorm with a lot to think about. Both as a person and of her view of Anna. She apologizes for behavior and swears to do better. As proof of her determination, she takes her up on the offer of lunch, much to Anna’s amusement.

Much later down the line, Sharena learns— PROPERLY learns, within the realm of dreams. She’s not blind though. Over the years she has noticed the scaring and the favoring of her right hand. Soooo, Sharena makes an effort to cover her! Stick by her left! Her massive shield is more than capable of protecting her too! And that’s the routine they fall seamlessly into as they follow Peony through Freyr’s dream land and Freya’s nightmare.

Anna generally deals with the challenges of that place better than the rest, for the aforementioned reasons. She knows her limits, she asks for help, and she talks her problems through. The vulnerability may be uncomfortable for her at times, but it is not enough to prevent her from doing so in order to progress smoothly. It might hurt her pride a little as commander, but Sharena and Alfonse are her friends, no? She can say that now, after walking through literal hell and back with them. So she doesn’t mind if they are the ones to see the child she grew around to protect.

Rather angry kid, if you can believe it! Stubborn too. Getting split and copied throughout time and space as a result of Askr and Embla’s never ending war had that effect. And Sharena gets to see that little girl, stubbornly clinging to her axe, bleeding from a wound on her leg that she knows one day will scar over.

It’s from one of the first battles she was ever in, Anna explains. As a merchant, her dad saw it fit to train her in order to defend herself from bandits. And she had put those skills to use before— but not like this. Never like this. It was the first true fight for her life. Not very pleasant, as you can imagine! She still gets nightmares sometimes, as you can see. Happened a few times in the realm of the dead actually. But, luckily, it no longer haunts her as much as it once did. It’s just a scar on her leg now!

The sentiment doesn’t comfort Sharena much. This is, frankly, awful! She hates how scared she looks! A-and how large the wound on her leg is! She hates how… unaware of it she personally was! Why didn’t Anna tell her about this sooner? To which Anna can only shrug. Nobody asked, and if she’s being honest, she probably wouldn’t have told. Not the whole truth anyway. She can admit when she needs help but… she’s still human. It’s a lot easier to admit she had a nightmare than admit that she finds the very thought of bleeding out a worse death than drowning. Still gets her the help she needs, without being more vulnerable than necessary. Sharena rests her head on her shoulder.

“Are all of your scars like this?”

Anna… blinks. No. They’re not. Not even the one on her leg is all bad. She was saved by this elderly couple and their son, who saw the fighting and began dragging injured soldiers off the battlefield. They made awful puns the whole time they stitched up her leg and gave her the best tea she ever had. Anna has bought a lot of different teas trying to find it, but to this day, she has no clue what it was. Makes it better, to be honest. Sharena looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

Ah, story time then? Okay. Well. Uh, this line on the inside of her elbow is from a bandit. Rather nasty encounter, but she returned the favor by shoving an entire container of expensive makeup powder into his eyes. Her dad was so mad but god it was so worth it. And this scar on her thumb is from one of her first times cooking in the road. She was pealing a potato but one of her sisters slammed into her and nearly took off her finger. This nick on her clavicle is from the first battle she ever won. When the enemy finally retreated she screamed so loud that her voice was raw for a week. Then there’s this scar underneath her chin, which has to be the most embarrassing ones she has. Zacharias and her had some leftover money one week and decided to treat themselves to a drink or two or five. In trying to make it back to the barracks, they both fell. Hard. She walked away with this, but Zacharias fully fractured his wrist. Explaining what happened to the healers the next morning was dreadful. And… and then there’s the one on her shoulder. Anna was actually recovering from it when she met Alfonse and Sharena.

The princess sits up for that one. Really? Gods she didn’t show it. And it’s because, on some level, she couldn’t. It was from the last battle before the shaky truce was called between Askr and Embla. The one Veronica will inevitably break. And the truce was called for good reason. The battle was hell on earth. Anna… nearly died there. She should have died there, frankly. A point blank strike from a lightning mage with metal armor in the rain should have been the last mistake she ever made. But by some miracle, it wasn’t.

… In retrospect, she thinks it’s because of Zacharias. Things got hazy after she went down, but knowing what they do now, he must have used his own magic to kill the mage and heal her. She didn’t walk out unscathed, but it was enough.

Haha, gods, she will never stop feeling guilty about him, will she?

Anyway, the injury was pretty bad. Her shoulder never moved the same again. But seeing as they were both recently hired to be Sharena and Alfonse’s retainers, they couldn’t exactly let Gustav know how serious it was. Might cost them the job. So a truly comical level of shenanigans went into ensuring it was kept secret. Including this game she created where every time Zacharias accidentally touched her injured shoulder, he would pay up 10 gold. He was not a very touchy guy, but even Sharena knew that this was something he just did. A tiny reassuring shoulder pat to convey that he was listening. So this was, perhaps, the best money making scheme Anna ever came up with. His apologetic look would shift so quickly into one of so much instant regret. And Sharena, upon reflection, remembers this.

WAIT WAIT WAIT SHE REMEMBERS THIS. THATS WHAT THE NOTE PASSING THING WAS!!!! Alfonse had pointed out in one meeting that the new retainers were passing something between each other and Sharena insisted it must have been notes because of how boringgggg it was. BUT NO IT WAS GOLD. ZACHARIAS TOUCHED HER SHOULDER EARLIER IN THAT MEETING AND SHE WINCED. HE THEN WAITED A WHILE BEFORE PAYING UP TO NOT MAKE IT OBVIOUS. THATS HILARIOUS!!!

Anna starts cackling as Sharena begins to line up all the pieces. The nightmare fully dissipating as she shares in this silly secret. There’s a chance she would have died with it. Hell, we know of a world where she probably did. This is not a story she’d even give to her family of merchants, who despite being direct reflections of her, do not share the scars she’s littered with. Never had to be, and thus don’t quite understand. But, Sharena does. All her friends do. And it feels weird to say that because real friends have always been in short supply. But gods this is too good. How absolutely absurd it is, that they are in the realm of dreams trying to find their missing friend and defeat the goddess who took them, and Commander Anna of the Order of Heroes is about to pop a lung laughing as she tells Princess Sharena of Askr about the fallout from the time she nearly died.

It’s dumb! This is dumb! And it’s possibly the happiest she’s ever been.

[bernardellinewsagency]

If I weren't already so busy with other fics, I would absolutely start a new one where Sunday joins the Stellaron Hunters after the events of the Penacony quests, except it's not told from his POV.

It's Robin's.

The story would progress through her having to resume her normal life, despite how upheaved everything has just been. She's supposed to tour throughout the galaxy, continue coming out with more music, star on talk shows and be seen by her fans, none of that can stop jus so that she can process things. She probably wouldn't even know that Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters until someone else finds out, and surprises her with a question about it during an interview or something.

Sunday's story would be told through the scraps of information she can get, on how she closely watches the bounty that the IPC places on him and how it grows over time, scrambling for any hint of his continued presence in this world that she can find just to know that he's still doing okay. Her memories of him would be interspersed throughout, reflections of the kind and caring brother that she can't quite reconcile with the actions he took (but also probably wouldn't stop blaming herself for. If only she hadn't left, if only the Charmony dove didn't try to fly).

I love doomed sibling relationships in media and yes, I was reading Emily Dickinson's ""Hope" is the thing with feathers" and thinking of these two with the lines "And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard/and sore must be the storm -/that could abash the little Bird/that kept so many warm -" because I was imagining Sunday as the mentioned bird and Robin not understanding how anyone could be mean to him because she's the only one who could even come close to knowing him, she's his sister, she remembers when they were little kids and he made that stage and an audience of stuffed animals for the performance that she still holds closest to her heart. She remembers the brother who wanted what's best for the injured dove, and who agreed with her dreams of wanting to help people. He may have changed, but he will always be her brother, even if every time she hears news about him now she'll have to silently pray to Xipe that it's not going to be about his death.