#we make up like 1/3 of the fics on ao3 so it is expected

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[muffinlance]

Fandom Trumps Hate Charity Auction: MuffinLance Edition

Hello, MuffinLance here. Author of Salvage and some other stuff ("some other stuff" best viewed while logged into AO3.)

The FTH Charity Auction is upon us again! Bidding opens on 2/25/25; winners donate directly to the organization they choose, and I proceed to Write The Thing they asked for. I've got three auctions up for grabs this year. One is relatively affordable, two are "I double dog dare someone to bid".

Auction 1: Bidder's Choice

Minimum Bid: $30 This auction is for either: an original prompt OR the next chapter in an existing fic OR one of the stories from my "want to write but haven't found the time" list, which I shall gladly share with any interested winner. The minimum word count you'd get is 300; the max is 20k; the actual length will depend on what you pick and how excited I am to write it. In 2024, the winner of this bid chose "the next Dark Night in Ba Sing Se chapter please," and got a completed fic with 5 chapters and 18k words. We'll work through email to bounce ideas and settle on something that we're both excited for! I look forward to working with you, and thank you for supporting one of the many good causes in this auction. >>>Auction 1 Link<<<

Auction 2: Kindling AU Part 3

Minimum Bid: $100 This auction is for the next Kindling AU installment; it's the equivalent of the Blue Spirit episode in that "Aang got caught" is the premise, but it is INCREDIBLY AU YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've got this fully outlined and partially written, but as it's going to be somewhere between 8k-20k once I'm fully done fleshing it out, I haven't had time to actually sit down and write it. If you feel like donating lots of money to get my butt in the chair, please do. Working title is "Snow in the Fire Nation", and it's going to get into how the Water Tribe POWs are treated in this AU. Expect lots of screen time for Katara, Sokka, and of course Zuko. Can't say more without spoiling major things.

>>>Auction 2 Link<<<

(Kindling series link, for those unfamiliar.)

Auction 3: Finish the Current Book of Towards the Sun You Stupid Author

Minimum Bid: $500 This is the "MuffinLance sit your butt down and finish the current book of Towards the Sun" auction. It costs lots of money because that will take lots of work and I'm double-dog-daring someone to call my bluff (it's going to be approximately 9-30k words to finish depending on how verbose I get). If someone wants to donate $500 to make this happen, I will get it done, so help me. To be clear, this is finishing the current book (NOT finishing the entire story); this will get us out of "Zuko stuck in the Northern Water Tribe prison" limbo and to a really satisfying turning point in the story. We will also see dragons. Tiny squiggly baby noodle dragons. You know you want them. >>>Auction 3 Link<<< (Towards the Sun link, for those unfamiliar.)

Do I expect anyone to bid on those last two? No. If someone does, will I stare them in the eyes while I vindictively type-type-type? Absolutely.

Happy Fandom-Trumping-Hate, everyone!

@fandomtrumpshate

[hivemuthur]

hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there��with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless��or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?” His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you—only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.

[bewareofthenewphannie]

sigh....please don't kill me for this

AO3 Phandom Stats - Top or Bottom?

As many of you may have noticed there has been a shift in the depiction of Dan and Phil in fanfiction over the past few months from previously predominantly Dan being written as the bottom to now largely Phil bottoming. This post aims to put that trend into numbers and visualise it in a few overly convoluted diagrams below the cut.

Does any of this matter? Absolutely not.

Is it interesting? Oh boy, it sure is!

Disclaimer: This is an analysis of the fanfiction writing and tagging trends within the Phandom. It's at most tangentially related to the Real People Dan and Phil and is not meant to spark any type of discourse. I am doing this as an avid fanfic reader and with the utmost respect and appreciation for the authors of these fics, so I don't want to see any negativity directed towards them. Above all this is meant to be fun and interesting.

And as always - don't like it, don't read it <3

Note on accessibility: linked here is a doc with all the numbers shown in the screenshots of this post. Inspired by emma's stats I will be putting the cell range in the ID - if there's a better way to do this, please lmk!!

Methodology

To get the numbers shown here I filtered the works in the Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF) AO3 tag by "date updated" from the Jan 1st to Dec 31st of each year and by the following tags:

Bottom Dan Howell

Bottom Phil Lester

Top Dan Howell

Top Phil Lester

Short excurse on AO3 tags for those unaware:

The tags I chose are canonical tags, which means other tags that mean the same thing but are for example spelled differently are linked to this tag by tag wranglers and appear when you search for the canonical tag (see example below).

Additionally, the "bottom x" tags are metatags for the power bottom tags, which means fics tagged with "power bottom x" also appear when you filter works for these tags.

It's important to note that not every fic where one of them tops or bottoms is tagged as such. That means these stats very specifically look at the author's choice to tag fics with these tags and not the overall amount of fics where one of them tops or bottoms. However, I would argue it's fair to assume that it's at least somewhat reflective of the general writing trends within the Phandom.

For simplicity's sake I will refer to these tags as e.g. "Bottom!Phil" (b!p) going forward.

Stats 2013 - 2024

Here you can see how many fics were tagged with each tag in the respective year and the amount of bottom!dan and bottom!phil fics relative to the total amount of fanfic written in the same time span.

As expected, up until 2023 the split was about 2 b!d to 1 b!p fic (precise numbers: 71% to 29%; see pie chart above).

In 2018 we can see a peak in both in the number of phanfics written and the relative amount of fics tagged as bottom!dan.

Starting in 2023 (more on that below!) this flips and in 2024 the ratio of b!d to b!p fics was 1 to 4 (precise numbers: 81% to 19%; see pie chart above).

Furthermore, making up 4,62% of the total amount of phanfics written in 2024, the bottom!phil tag is relatively speaking twice as popular now as the bottom!dan tag ever was.

Sidenote: You can see that generally the amount of fics tagged with b!d and t!p, as well as b!p and t!d correspond to each other for obvious reasons (they're usually fucking each other). This year however there's 16 fics more tagged with bottom!phil than top!dan, which shows that there's been a very specific interest in writing and tagging bottom!phil in the last year.

Here you can see the total amount of phanfics written by year because I already collected the data, so I might as well put it here:

Stats 11/2023 - 12/2024

Now I want to take a closer look at the past few months post hiatus.

You can see that there's been a steady increase in the total amount of fics written per month!

That's incredibly cool!! (Love to all the wonderful writers out there <33)

Before we get into the actual stats, it's important to note that we're working with very low numbers here, so don't be fooled by overinterpreting percentages in the first few months depicted and look at the actual numbers! In the diagram below I excluded September and October 2023 because there simply wasn't enough data to produce useable results.

Contrary to what I expected, the increase in fics tagged with bottom!phil does not coincide with gamingmas 2023 (pour bot hem and top bunk kind of guy), nor phil's birthday live stream (topped by kakuna) but only really starts in June 24 and spikes in August for reasons I'm not fully sure about.

If I had to pin it on one thing it'd be the precious baby angel picture, which was posted in mid August.

Much more likely is though that this was simply a dynamic that built over months and had a wide array of reasons mentioned above and could very well be a self-reinforcing dynamic of more and more people looking for that tag and also writing for it.

If anyone has more insight on this, please share your thoughts :]

On that note, I'm finally done yapping, I hope this was at least mildly interesting!

[bahablastplz]

Skz fic recs (mxm) MDNI

hello! we had mixed opinions if we wanted mxm fic recs but I decided to make one anyway so those of you who want it, have at it! those of you who don't, that's okay you don't have to interact <3

These fics are all on ao3! I tried to find tumblr blogs for those authors who have them but if i'm missing anyone feel free to let me know. These are all mature unless otherwise stated! They are majority minsung but in general they are sorted by pairing with the older member first!

here's the color code: completed, ongoing, over 50k words, under 50k words, no smut

Haebang by BulletTears Chan/Everyone, 193k completed: Chan’s friend sets him up for a ‘spa retreat’ but he later finds out it’s a sexual liberation program. Slow burn, virginity loss, kink discovery, angst, hurt/comfort

you know I can’t leave you alone by @jisungjuice Chan/Minho, 13k completed: “When Chan asks Minho to help him with his dancing for the Red Lights MV, he didn't expect to like a certain part of the choreography so (very) much.” red lights, choking, kink discovery

reply hazy, try again by mrehk Chan/Changbin, 15k completed: “Changbin’s calculus tutor is Bang Chan. (OR: solving for the derivative of l+o+v+e)” frat boy chan, fwb, pining, loss of virginity, idiots in love

Case 35 by theproblematique Chan/Felix, 15k completed, part of series: “The running joke is that he is the 'group-dad', and Chan plays the part for his friends without protest. Then Felix has to go and complicate things.” Daddy kink, idiots to lovers

deviation by theproblematique Chan/Jeongin 8k completed: “They all used Chan for their first ruts, until it’s Jeongin's turn.” bang chan wants to feel needed, a/b/o, omega chan, heats/ruts

I’ll never be that type of beautiful by @changbinholic Minho/Changbin, 50k completed: “the unconventional omega Changbin and feral alpha Minho we all needed.” one dubcon scene, a/b/o, angst

Case 54 by theproblematique Minho/Jisung, 35k completed, part of series: “Jisung is so supportive of Minho’s sexuality that it goes wrong.” Jealous Han, coming to terms with sexuality, great buildup

Your love (my breath) by Lox_y Minho/Jisung, 34k ongoing: “In which Jisung is the luna of his pack, and is tormented by his mate until he's killed in a fight with a neighboring pack, by an alpha named Minho.” heed warnings, a/b/o, abuse, hurt/comfort

Rule number one by evesmysoul Minho/Jisung, 144k completed: “Or Jisung’s broken heart leads him to make an arrangement with his mysterious classmate Minho. He believes everything will work out, as long as neither of them breaks the rules.” fwb, bad with feelings, slow burn, angst, happy ending

Ruin me (for everyone else) by preetydark Minho/Jisung, 20k completed: “Minho’s rut is blocked, it’s been for years now.This was never really a problem for him; except when the symptoms show up again when his younger brother's best friend, Jisung, is around.” pining, a/b/o, tension

no attachments by ockleibi, Minho/Jisung, 68k ongoing: “The guy who refuses to have sex with Jisung because he's a virgin turns out to be inextricably connected to his friend group. Awesome.” fwb, virginity loss, angst, great smut

chasing friction by cloudrages Minho/Jisung, 5k completed: “Jisung rides Minho’s thigh” virginity loss, gay panic, thigh riding (duh)

use me for a feeling (or a good time) by honeyeaters Minho/Jisung, 58k completed: “Minho and Jisung have slept with everyone except each other. Until that changes. No feelings attached, of course.” fwb, pining, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

mouth to mouth by keros Minho/Jisung, 54k completed; “It’s Jisung’s first time off schedule in months, and he’s naturally anticipating the most boring day ever. When Minho gets back to the dorms early, it turns into anything but.” pining, tension, teasing, confessions

you have one (1) new notification by hnjsngluvr69 Minho/Jisung, 8k completed: “Jisung asks Minho to help him with his porn-watching addiction. Against his better judgment, Minho agrees.” friends to lovers, tension, humor lots of thoughts, head full (and bursting with horniness) by hnjsngluvr69 Minho/Jisung 13k completed: “Minho develops the power to read minds. Turns out, Jisung's thoughts are very, very horny.” mutual pining, friends to lovers, humor, I have a plan to write an xreader fic inspired by this soon

ex proprio vigore by mrehk Minho/Jisung, 23k completed, professor minho/law school student han, slowburn, tension, teasing, great smut, power dynamics

a fish tank (with rainbow socks) by mrehk, Minho/Jisung, 10k completed: “Minho never sleeps with the same guy twice; Jisung becomes a master of disguise” strangers to lovers, idiots in love, humor, mrehk has the best writing 

an octopus (playing tennis) by mhrek Minho/Jisung, 10k completed: “Minho sighs. “Put yourself in my shoes, Bin. You see incriminating photos of your best friend. You realize you’ve been in love with your best friend for ages. You can’t stop touching your dick while thinking about your best friend— and now you’re just supposed to hang out with your best friend like everything is fine?!” friends to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, comedy, mutual pining  chrysalis by mhrek Minho/Jisung 12k completed: “Jisung didn’t prepare for this. He was meant to just— tell Minho he’s gay— not ask him to have sex with him. The glass must have been a literal breaking point for his feeble self control.” friends to lovers, mutual pining, loss of virginity, gay awakening

cat’s cradle by mrehk, Hyunjin/Jeongin 13k completed: “Hyunjin starts fucking his drug dealer because he asked so nicely” stoners, fwb, gay awakening, idiots in love 

I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do by @/jisungjuice Jisung/Everyone 117k completed: “How omega Jisung turns all of Stray Kids into a proper pack.” fluff, a/b/o, light angst, loss of virginity, poly

between pavement and sky by tellmesomethinggood Jisung/2min 5k completed: “You want Minho to... cheat on you?" Jisung asks. "I want Minho to sleep with someone, while I watch." Seungmin says.” threesome, cuckholding, poly

Unsweetened Lemonade by Intricate 6 Jisung/Felix, Jisung/Everyone 44k ongoing: “Jisung runs away from his old pack only to be captured by another. This pack claims to be different, but Jisung isn't so sure…” Heed warnings, a/b/o, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort, smut

I’ll be good by skittlesmenu Jisung/Seungmin, 5k completed: “Cocky fuck boy Jisung gets flustered when top student Seungmin flirts back.” enemies to friends, fwb, tension

Open your hands (open your life) by rainyleafs Felix/Everyone, 158k ongoing: “Felix has been living off the grid ever since he fled his abusive former alpha. When he finds a distressed omega in an alley, he has no idea that bringing Jeongin back to his pack will get him everything he would never have dared to dream of.” No smut, slow-burn, hurt/comfort

effortless like loving you by littleinfinitewisdoms Jeongin/everyone, 202k ongoing; “Yang Jeongin, 24, "beta," has been disowned by his religious family after coming out. A month or so later, he finds himself with nowhere else to go, and almost no more money. He finally calls a crisis center and gets placed in an employment assistance program and a host pack.” fluff, angst, past trauma/abuse, religious trauma, haven’t finished yet but it’s good enough so far to recommend

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 2: LOVING HIM WAS RED [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 3972

summary: seb, after not knowing about her for almost five years, finds out that y/n just went viral on youtube after posting a song that might be written about him

warnings: settled on april 2018 and narrated on seb's pov. curse words, mentions of sex and one night stands. apart from that, just a little bit of background story from seb and reader's relationship

taglist: [@saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @nhfls @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife ]

a/n: i know i'm supposed to be posting oscar fics but migraine is killing me today (been quite stressed for the past few days i believe). in the meantime, as i already had it written, here you have part 2 of goodbyes are bittersweet! hope you liked it as much as you liked part 1 (even if it's a bit different). part 3 coming tomorrow if you want so? PLEASE let me know your thoughts and opinions in comments! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2018 April 27th Baku, Azerbaijan

Sebastian

I woke up as soon as I felt the sun’s rays hitting me in the face, and at the same moment I noticed a surprisingly strange warmth next to me, in bed.

I looked at my phone and saw that it was already half-past seven in the morning. Not only had I realized that my alarm hadn’t gone off and I had overslept by an hour and a half, but it was also Y/N’s birthday.

Like every year, there was no response from her to the email I had scheduled to be sent at midnight. 

After almost five years of knowing the bare minimum about her and having seen her a couple of times from afar in Heppenheim, I knew why, deep down, I kept doing it. I still loved her as much as the first day, or even more. I hoped for a reunion where we could tell each other about our lives and start a simple friendship as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t chosen to leave my life and act like she didn’t know me.

I decided to turn over to see what was getting closer and closer to me, almost pushing me off the bed. It wasn’t hard to find myself face to face with blue eyes that were not the green ones I had dreamed of that night.

Suddenly, memories from just a few hours ago started to form in my mind. A few beers I shouldn’t have had at a local pub just because I wanted to escape the blurry memory of Y/N were responsible for me meeting this charming young woman with a wonderful smile.

My head couldn’t piece together how we ended up here, but I suppose her insistence, my invitation for her to accompany me to the hotel, and possibly a taxi ride I paid for were the final results of the goal to escape reality. 

This had been my routine since I realized my ex-girlfriend wasn’t coming back into my life. I didn’t like being this way, and although I had tried to find a stable partner, kindness, fun and a temporary refuge had been the best way to try to forget Y/N Y/L/N, who always found a way to slip into my thoughts at the least expected moment.

I quickly got out of bed and, almost without thinking and without needing to undress, jumped into the shower and did my best to let the warm water make me forget everything I had allowed to happen the night before. I closed my eyes and let myself go as much as I could. I tried to organize my thoughts and find the easiest possible way out of the problem I had gotten myself into, but it was impossible to find one that worked.

I got out of there faster than I would have liked. When I returned to the room, with just the towel wrapped around my waist, leaving my entire torso exposed, I found the person I had been avoiding at all costs.

The brunette was already stretching in bed, dawdling and, surely, not wanting to leave.

“Would you mind leaving?”

My rhetorical question made her just look at me in surprise, her eyes still sleepy.

“Why, Seb? Can’t we spend the day together? I could go with you to the paddock and repeat what we did last night in your room or whatever you call it,” she suggested with a playful smile. “You know as well as I do that it would be fun.”

I felt a knot forming in my stomach at her suggestion. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed her company or was forbidden to do so, but the simple fact of knowing who was turning thirty today, and that this exact proposal was something I used to do with her...

“I don’t think it’s a good idea...” 

Damn, I didn’t remember her name.

“Alessia.”

“That’s it, Alessia,” I confirmed. “You know how these things are and what it could mean for us to be seen together. We could meet another day as... friends.”

Neither my response nor hers were what the other expected. After hearing her name, I remembered the brief introduction she gave me: a musician just starting out and a member of a highly successful Italian orchestra.

An Italian version of Y/N and, unfortunately for me and possibly the blonde, a successful one.

“The way you moaned my name last night so many times is not something friends usually do. You made me feel special last night. A lot, in fact.” 

“I’m sorry, Alessia, that wasn’t what I meant,” I clarified, my cheeks blushing slightly at her statement. “I hope you enjoyed what we did last night, but it’s time for you to get dressed and go back to your hotel or wherever you’re staying. I have to go to work,” I added, trying not to succumb to her obvious charms. 

After several more attempts to convince me, the girl finally resigned herself and reluctantly accepted my suggestion. I felt uncomfortable when she threw off the sheets and began to gather her clothes, completely naked. I felt even worse as I watched her slow and deliberate movements, as if she were prolonging the inevitable farewell and trying to arouse me. 

I bit my lip and refrained from doing or saying anything when she asked for help zipping up her dress. I could have said no, but I didn’t want to seem rude, especially considering that the time I spent with her had made me feel just as I had with my ex-girlfriend. 

Once we were finished, the Italian approached me with determination. Before I could react, her lips sought mine with clear intention. I instinctively turned my face, causing the kiss to land on my cheek instead of my lips. 

“Alessia…” 

What could I say in a situation like this? Did she deserve the hurt I was going to cause her even though we had only had a night of wild sex, like so many others I had had with other girls? 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured hastily, looking away. “I thought… you know, that we could have something more than just a one-night stand.”

My heart sank at her words, and as I had already foreseen, because it always happened in these cases, guilt overwhelmed me. 

I knew I had been unfair to her by allowing this to happen, by letting her believe there could be something more between us, and that the problem was hers when the only one to blame was me, who hadn’t gotten over the love of my life after four years, now closer to five, of no contact. 

“Alessia, you’re an incredible person,” I began to say, trying to find the right words and not hurt her more, “but right now, all I want to focus on is my work and working on myself. It wouldn’t be fair for you to be part of all this and end up getting hurt.”

“I understand,” she said softly, nodding with a sadness that, although expected, still surprised me. “Thank you for letting me spend this night with you, Sebastian.”

I felt overwhelmed and at the same time a great mixture of relief and remorse as I watched her leave without even looking back. 

When enough time had passed to be sure I wouldn’t run into her, I went down to the hotel lobby still feeling that heaviness invading me. I tried to shake off all of them, but as soon as I saw Britta standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed and with an angry look fixed on me, I knew it was going to be difficult. 

“Sebastian, again?” she asked, full of frustration. 

“Yes, and I’m not going to apologize for something I don’t regret,” I replied sincerely, knowing there was no way to avoid the upcoming conversation. 

“Are you going to keep playing this game much longer?” she reproached as she quickened her pace, trying not to cause too much of a scene or draw attention. “You’ve gone longer than I’d like to say without settling down.” 

“I will when I get tired of sleeping with girls I don’t know, I suppose. Having sex is good for health, you know? Be thankful I don’t cause you many problems after these nights.” 

Britta sighed, and I knew my response was making her lose the little patience she had left. 

“I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I think what would make you tired of sleeping with strangers almost every Grand Prix week would be to have some kind of interaction with Y/N.” 

The mention of the blonde’s name made the wave of emotions I had tried to bury for years resurface, hitting me suddenly. 

“You know I can’t do that. It’s impossible. I’ve tried, but she doesn’t want to cooperate.” 

“You should at least try once again, at least. I know there’s nothing, nor anyone, who can change her mind,” and it was true. Y/N was the most stubborn person, for better or worse, that I had ever met in my life. “But I also know that if you keep avoiding facing your feelings and trying to forgive yourself for what happened, you’ll never find the peace you’re not only wishing for but also deserving of.” 

“I know, Britta, but…” 

“But what, Sebastian? It’s just that…” 

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?” 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the change of subject and possibly for not letting her finish. She slowed her pace, and for the first time in the short time we had been together that day, I felt calm and even understood. 

“Yes, I’ve heard something about that,” she said after a few seconds that felt eternal. “What does that have to do with getting over your ex-girlfriend?”

“Well, everything, really,” I declared. “Y/N and I dated, if you can even call it that, for ten days during Christmas of ’99. She was 11, and I was 12, and I was a bit stupid because I ended up breaking up with her when I fell for a classmate who had just moved to Heppenheim and who eventually started dating my cousin.” 

“But…”

“Then Y/N and I became friends again,” I continued, trying not to let her interrupt my impromptu speech, “and it took six years until she told me she loved me. I didn’t want to admit my feelings and decided that not talking to her for four months was the best, not even to offer my condolences after her grandmother’s death… And look, in the end, I asked her to go out with me!”

My PR sighed, possibly tired of hearing that story once again, a story I never got tired of telling because sometimes reality was weirder than fiction.

“I’m going to tell you what I’ve always told you since Y/N left, and I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it: you’re still clinging to the hope that everything will go back to how it was, even though you know it’s not possible,” she said without a hint of doubt. “Even if you ran into her and had a deep conversation, your lives have changed. At least yours has, and I’m sure hers has too.”

“I mentioned the invisible string theory because I feel like there’s something else. I feel, besides there being something unknown that ties us together for some reason, that the third time's the final one,” I finally confessed.

My confession seemed to have caught her off guard. Now, she slowed, and she was passing her accreditation to enter the paddock much more slowly than she usually did.

Maybe she was right, that I was holding on too tightly to the hope that everything would go back to how it was before, but I had been dreaming about Y/N again for many nights after months without doing so. It had never happened before, but the last few days had felt like she had never left my life and had always been there, just apart.

The last time I had that feeling it ended with me seeing her from a distance playing with a little girl she was probably babysitting to earn some extra money.

Obviously, I didn’t dare to approach her because she seemed... happy. Quite happy, actually.

“I’d like to keep talking about this, but I want you to stop thinking about Y/N, at least for a few hours, and focus on today,” my PR’s change in tone let me know she was serious. “We have a lot to do.”

“Then enlighten me, master.”

“First, you have a meeting with the team to discuss possible strategies for practice and what might work for tomorrow’s qualifying,” the blonde began to explain, taking out her planner and going over the day’s schedule. “Then I think you have an interview with SkySports with Nico Rosberg, and maybe a talk for a collaboration with a brand, but I have to check that again.”

“What time am I supposed to meet with the engineers?”

“Around nine-thirty, but...”

I yawned, not bothering to cover my mouth as my PR continued talking. The heaviness in my eyelids was getting worse, and I felt the exhaustion from the previous night starting to take its toll. I looked at my phone and saw that, unfortunately, it was only eight-fifteen.

Was the day going by that slowly?

“Understood,” I replied, pretending I had been paying attention to everything Britta had said. “By the way, do you mind if I go to my driver’s room to have some rest?”

“Sebastian...”

“I had a fantastic night,” I admitted, causing her to cross her arms and once again look at me with a stern expression, “but I didn’t sleep at all, and if I want to perform well, I need to sleep at least for a bit.”

“You have forty-five minutes at most,” the blonde snapped. “Don’t you dare be late, or we’ll have problems. Set your alarm and make sure your phone is on in case someone calls you.”

It won’t be Y/N, that’s for sure.

“I will, don’t worry.”

I left Britta after exchanging a few more words with her and hurried as much as I could. With every step I took, I felt more tired. I knew I should have slept at least six hours, but I succumbed to the temptation last night to, why not say it, have a good time and, as was more than obvious and had become routine since 2014, try to succeed in the mission of forgetting Y/N on her birthday.

Another year, it had been impossible.

I didn’t know if it was due to lack of sleep or lack of attention, but the voices around me seemed increasingly distant. The only thing I could hear as I walked through the pit lane was a growing murmur where the words “viral” and “song” seemed to be the main topics, especially from the mouths of Max, Daniel, and I’d swear Charles.

“Have you heard this song?” I heard Verstappen say. I stopped when the first piano chords began to play. “It’s like a pandemic; it’s everywhere.”

“I don’t know who the girl singing is, but she’s incredibly talented,” Ricciardo continued. “Do we know who...?”

“You don’t know if it’s a girl!” Leclerc reproached, hitting the Australian on the arm. “What if it’s a guy with a high voice?”

I laughed at the younger guys' antics, wondering if my former teammates saw me that way when I was their age.

Losing him was blue like i’d never known Missing him was dark gray all alone Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met Cos’ loving him was red

If my eyes were almost closing automatically, after hearing the chorus, or whatever it was called, it felt like I had taken an energy drink that had woken me up.

The moment that voice, both raspy and sweet at the same time, penetrated my ear, my hair stood on end. Its familiarity was incredible… but no, it couldn't be her. It was impossible.

"God damn, who can play the piano while singing?" 

"I have two questions," Daniel blurted out, ignoring Charles' words. "The first one is who the fuck it could be, and the second is how the hell they've gotten so much attention out of nowhere."

It's Y/N, who else could it be, I thought.

I tried to control all kinds of thoughts that were running through my head. I knew my ex-girlfriend's voice perfectly, and the one coming from the Dutchman's phone was quite similar to hers.

"Maybe it's a marketing strategy. At least that's what Fernando thinks," Max always had the Spaniard's name in his mouth. "What if it's a marketing strategy by some record label? It could be a plan to generate interest in an artist or a song."

"I highly doubt it. If they wanted to do that, the YouTube account wouldn't be named 151206010614."

Lewis appeared next to me out of nowhere. Quickly taking off his headphones, he also unplugged them from his phone, letting the song play at full volume.

"Seb, are you okay?" insisted the Brit.

"Yes, yes. I was just a bit distracted," I hurried to say.

He didn't seem very satisfied with my answer, but I didn't care. The only thing I was thinking about at that moment was how much I wanted to get to the hospitality area, and how much I wanted to take a micro-nap at this point.

"Are you also distracted thinking about that anonymous person?"

"I can't be distracted by someone I know nothing about other than what I've heard from them," I replied, pointing to the three drivers who were still engrossed in the conversation about the topic.

"I've managed to hear a bit, yes," replied the dark-haired one. "I think I understand music a little more than they do. I'm almost sure it has nothing to do with a record label, and that someone simply uploaded it without any expectations. And look how it went from them."

I looked at him intrigued, understanding little to nothing of what he was saying.

"Since you look confused, I'll explain a bit," Hamilton continued, realizing that I didn't seem to understand much. "It seems they uploaded this song, which happens to be called Red, to YouTube," he hit play and put it on again, now from the beginning, "It seems to be about a failed relationship, but no one knows who sings it or what the real story behind it is."

"Does no one really know anything?" I insisted, finding the situation very strange.

Why was the voice only familiar to me? Could it be because today was Y/N's birthday, and everything reminded me of her much more than usual?

"The only thing we know is that the song is wonderful. Really, I don't know who’s behind this, but if they discover that girl, if it is a girl, and give her a chance, I’m almost sure she can achieve great things."

We decided to move a bit further down the pit lane, exchanging a few words with those we met. Lewis kept talking about the song. I couldn't stop thinking and analyzing the melody, the lyrics, the voice, and especially the user. I knew there was something hidden behind that combination of numbers, and now the priority of sleeping a bit before the first free practice session had taken a back seat.

I tried all possible combinations. Numbers from front to back, in pairs, trios, and even quartets, but nothing seemed to convince me. While the melody of Red continued to resonate from the Mercedes driver's iPhone, my mind kept trying to get the information because something inside me, which was nothing like the feeling I had every April 27th, knew it was Y/N.

I managed to come up with the supposed answer shortly after, recalling some of the important dates for us. If I divided the username into three different sections, with two pairs of numbers each, the first one corresponded to June 15th, 2006.

That was the day I asked Y/N to be my girlfriend. 

If that was right, the second pair of numbers corresponded to January 12th, 2014. I was no longer dating Y/N at that time, but I knew her perfectly, and not to brag, but I was convinced that date must be extremely important to her if it was alongside our anniversary.

I wish I could know what it is that about.

“Are you listening to me?”

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

I ignored Lewis after hearing, for the first time paying extremely attention, that bridge. 

Somehow, the song described my feelings perfectly, and I didn’t know why I felt that way. I couldn’t let go of Y/N, not when she had been, and still was, the love of my life. 

I entered WhatsApp almost automatically and went into Y/N's profile. She had no profile picture, but I knew perfectly well that it was her because her contact was still saved with the same name. I quickly wrote to her that I knew it was her hiding behind the song and that somehow, I knew she was talking about me. 

I saw Britta approaching us quickly. She was also engrossed in her phone, her fingers constantly moving over it. I didn’t pay much attention to her because once I showed my desperation to Y/N, I moved on to conveying it to Hanna, trying to convince her to reveal that it was her best friend. 

“Seb, we need to talk,” Roeske hurried to say, almost out of breath. Her gaze was still fixed on her device.

“Britta, I can’t right now, I’m sending…”

“Sebastian Vettel, this is serious.”

When she yanked the phone from my hands and I made eye contact with her, I assumed things didn’t seem to be going very well. The moment she turned her gaze to Lewis and he walked away, patting me on the shoulder, I knew.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, quite angry. “Why are you acting like a neurotic who seems to have lost a million euros on a ridiculous bet?”

“I don’t want you to answer anything related to that song that went viral, Red. I’m telling you, Sebastian, don’t you dare answer anything about that damn song.”

And again, this was another sign that happened to make me feel like I hadn’t gone crazy.

“Sebastian, trust me,” Britta remained firm in her expression, crossing her arms. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because the song was uploaded by…”

“Y/N.”

I saw the answer in her eyes. I knew her and knew she longed to answer me and at the same time, she didn’t. 

Britta knew that, but I also had the feeling she seemed to want to hide something.

“It’s her the one singing, right?” I insisted, but she didn’t answer. “Britta, please: tell me.”

I was desperate, and it was more than obvious. A sigh and a few seconds filled with uncertainty preceded her response:

“If you already know, why do you ask me? You know the sunshine of your life, as you still call her, much better than I do. Of course it’s Y/N,” she revealed, lifting a great weight off my shoulders and, above all, making me believe I could have faith in the future.

[hurtspideyparker]

Hi, sorry but could you recommend any of your favourite Peter Parker fics please?

For sure !!! *cracks open ao3 bookmarks*

Thirty Hours by polaroid15 - Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Hurt Peter Parker, my favourite tag <3 I love when Spider-Man is a badass and also lacks self-preservation. He's so cool fighting alongside the Avengers and we get some sweet hurt/comfort irondad!

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain - Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

This fic is an icon in the fandom and for GOOD REASON. I just can not get enough of Peter Parker hiding his injuries. More heavy whump and angst!

All good things come in threes by Bergen - Peter has three secret identities: Spider-Man, the superhero who swings around the city to save people. Parker Benjamin, who gives Tony Stark unsolicited advice on his research. And NightMonkey, the Instagrammer who keeps uploading increasingly popular but embarrassing drawings of Iron Man.

And he can juggle them all just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Okay here is the fluff!!! Peter is a genius, a menace, and a sweetheart. Tony Stark runs into him (again and again) and can't help but have a soft spot for him every time. Funny and cute and an all 'round good time!

Held Together by Spiderwebs by TunaFishChris - Steve is not coping well in the twenty-first century. At all. Three months after the Chitauri invasion, he decides he's had enough.

But just as he's about to end it all, he runs into the new hero in town.

This one focuses a lot on Steve but I really like him and Peter's relationship in it, and I think this is great Peter Parker characterization. TW for discussions of depression and suicide, it gets a bit dark!

5 Times Spider-Man Saved an Avenger's Ass (and 1 Time They Saved Him) by TunaFishChris - this fic showcases how strong and capable Peter is, he's definitely a BAMF. I really like this genre where the Avengers know Spider-Man but not Peter Parker, makes Peter feel more independent and mature like in the comics.

Five Time Faculty Members Had to Call Peter's Emergency Contact + One Time He Shows Up Anyway, Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited, and Five Times Strangers Talked About Peter and Tony + One time Someone They Know Did by kingdomfaraway - I am just gonna recommend this entire series. Super fluffy, extreme irondad and spiderson. They're just adorable from an outside perspective and I love when Peter gets to just be Tony's intern and a teenager for a while :)

research and disaster by blueh - “So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of the pair.

“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’s Mr. Stark’s kid.”

or: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

I just love intern Peter mk? Let him be a kid genius and have fun!!! Fluffy and humorous, again with the irondad.

Captain, Oh My- Not My Captain! by uncouth_peasant - Peter swallowed hard before firing a web to swing into the fray. “Cap’s going after civilians. I’m out of time.”

Bruised and bloody men <3. Just Peter being a badass and getting beat to a pulp. Cool fighting, lots of Peter whump, and of course the Avengers being protective.

Good publicity by Bergen - Between Peter Parker barely speaking, and Spider-Man being the ultimate chatterbox, how was Tony ever supposed to figure out that they were one and the same person?

Tony Stark is secretly a softie for cute kids, especially when they're a genius and have a sense of humour to rival his own. Peter is a foster kid who ends up finding a home with Pepper and Tony, very sweet.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - When Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves, simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help.

Heavy TW for this one, mind the tags. This is a popular fic and for good reason. A very mature and realistic portrayal of the foster care system and homelessness. The Peter angst is really great and I could barely put it down, that boy needs a hug so bad.

Now here's some hydra!Peter fics cuz they're my jam:

Peter is a precious chickpea by Bergen - They attack the HYDRA safe house shortly before sunrise.

The only people defending said safe house are Peter and Leo, and Leo slams his cell door open and starts spitting out orders, but then promptly gets clobbered over the head and keels sideways.

So that just leaves Peter. And he’s not even going to try to fight a whole team of Avengers. He looks up at Iron Man filling the doorway. “I surrender.”

He’s never been captured before and he’s not sure what to do. Escape, probably.

This entire series is PERFECT. I just love how adorable Peter is, and all the relationships Peter forms with the Avengers absolutely melt my heart. Peter's characterization in this is really unique and I wish there was more. The Bucky and Peter friendship is everythingggg. I love hydra!peter and bucky fics.

Indoctrination by phoenixon - The Avengers thought they were on a typical assignment: Infiltrate the Hydra base and find the weapon. What they didn't expect was the small boy raised by Hydra that they found instead. And they definitely didn't expect him to stay at Avengers Tower or how he somehow wormed his way into their lives. As for Peter, he just wants to be good and obey what the Hydra men told him so he doesn't get in trouble.

I just really love hydra Peter changing into a sweet and intelligent boy once he's rescued and safe, and how all the Avengers take up such heart-warming parental roles around him.

out there, living in the sun by Hailfire_73 - The Avengers rescue Peter from a Hydra base ran by his father, Richard Parker, except Peter doesn't really see it as a rescue, and has trouble settling into a new life away from Hydra and his father at the Avengers compound. OR - Peter learns how to be an actual teenager, live life, and put his abusive past behind him, and Tony learns how to be a father.

Hydra Peter but he's most definitely a traumatized and moody teenager. I really enjoyed Peter's character arc and the exploration of his trauma. It felt more realistic the way his journey isn't just a straight or clear path. He's more mature in this one and it was a really compelling read, balancing the angst with some humour and fluff. Loved the ending.

Tinker, Tailor, Spider by Bergen - Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

I really enjoy that the author doesn't water Peter being hydra down. Yes he is a highly skilled assassin and a badass who's trauma pervades his every thought and decision. Made me fall in love with the Tony, Pepper, Morgan and Peter as a family dynamic. Super domestic while still highlighting Peter's troubled past.

[moody-alcoholic]

Chapter 1 - The Job.

I just don't know when to stop, if I don't have like 20 projects going at once I get bored. I waited until I had a name though, no longer will I be titling everything 'untitled XYZ fic. It was actually my fiancée who came up with the name.

Work summary: 141 retired and decided to open a delivery company. Only it's not a delivery company, it's a cover for less legal practices. Need a creepy stalker out your life? Someone owes you money? You need to disappear to a new life? Special Delivery Service has got you covered, for a reasonable fee.

Chapter Summary: 5.5k words, Simon x reader, female reader, name used: Dani (this is just personal preference, I don't like using Y/N.) You accept a job offer to work as an office admin for a commercial delivery company. Only the job is not quite as it seems and you come to learn neither are the people you work for.

CW: mentions of abusive ex, alcohol, language, flashbacks of domestic abuse.

masterlist - next

AO3 link

Enjoy <3

You see the job listing towards the bottom of the page: 

Office admin wanted! To start immediately. MUST have a background in logistics.  Send CV to: Price@SDS.co.uk Competitive salary. 

It was short, sweet, to the point and the most promising job posting you had seen all day. You had a background in logistics, you’d just spent the last 3 years working as a supply chain manager. Mainly it was just organising warehouse deliveries but it was experience none the less. You copy the e-mail and send the CV, with a job posting like this you didn’t expect to hear a response back for a few days.

It was already 8pm you’d been applying for jobs all day. You decided to give up for tonight, the sofa and the TV were calling you. You head into the kitchen rummaging through the fridge to see what sad meal you would cook up tonight. You pull out a box of Chinese leftovers, they still smell good. You tip them on a plate throwing it in the microwave as you pour yourself a glass of wine. Turning the TV on channel surfing when your phone starts ringing, you go to pick it up. It’s not a number you know but you swallow your nerves accepting it in case it’s about a job. 

“Hello?” You say.

“Hello is this Dani” A male voice comes through the other end.

“Yeah,” You reply feeling nervous all of a sudden, you sip the wine. 

“You applied for the office admin job?” The voice says back. You have to think for a second, he can’t mean the job you literally applied for less then 10 minutes ago. You look back over at the laptop screen the e-mail still open.

“Hello?” the voice says.

“Yes, sorry yeah, wow I didn’t expect to hear back so quickly.”

“Yeah, we need someone to start immediately, can you come down for an interview tomorrow?” 

“Sure what time?” You ask, you need this job, you need to get back on your feet. 

“I’ll message you the time, and the address.” He says, you hear noise in the background sounds like a door slamming.

“Thank you,” you say as you hear the microwave beep. 

“No problem, see you tomorrow.” He says and hangs up the phone. You take your food out the microwave and flop down on the sofa tuning into whatever soap was playing on the TV. You’re halfway through your food when you get a text with the address and a time. 10am. You copy the address and put it into google, now is a better time then ever to find out about this company. Special Delivery Service, SDS, you don’t know why that makes you chuckle, it makes you think of DFS, the sofa company. The address is close by only a few streets actually, you could walk there in about 20 minutes, that’s convenient at least. From the looks of the website it’s a commercial delivery company. ‘Discretion is our specialty’ it says as you continue reading, there is not much info just how to contact them for a quote. The pictures are mainly stock images bar the logo.

You’d never heard of them before but it’s not exactly like you’re in the market for commercial deliveries, it has good ratings though, that means something. You throw the phone to the side turning back to the TV. This was good, this is a good start it’s what you need to move on, maybe even a fresh start. It feels like the right time, newly out of toxic relationship, made redundant, all in less then a month.

Maybe you could use a nice change of pace, or maybe you would go to the interview tomorrow and it will be a complete waste of time. Either way it’s a step in the right direction and at least your mum will be happy you’ve found a job, you’re pretty sure she was dreading the thought of having to financially support you until you were back on your feet. Now you were definitely hoping the interview would will go well, the thought of having to rely on your mother to support you was the worst. You would rather ask your ex, Lord knows he owes you one. You finish the food and lounge around watching TV until you start to dose off. You peal yourself off the couch heading into bed, a good nights rest will do you good, besides you want to make a good impression tomorrow. 

—————————— 

You get to the building early, it’s sunny weather for once and you can see the large doors to the building flung open. You peak in and see delivery vans, the whole place looks like it was an ex-mechanic shop. A figure catches the corner of your eye, he’s talking to another man walking across the floor, you can’t hear what they’re saying but the shorter man seems enthusiastic about something. Before you can get a better look they disappear out of your line of sight. You look over to what you assume is the customer entrance, and walk in. There is a man sat behind the counter, he seems distracted by something angrily typing on a computer. He sighs as you reach the desk, his eyes flicking up to you, he scoots back in the chair.

“How can I help?” He asks, his demeanour changing, he’s got a nice smile. 

“I’m here for an interview,” You say suddenly feeling nervous. He nods getting up.

“Yeah of course, come through.” He says opening a hidden door in the counter and you walk though. He leads you through to the main room it still smells of fuel, this place definitely used to be a mechanic shop, you can see the covered up pits on the floor where they would access under the cars.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of laughing and you see the two men from earlier stood round a coffee machine. The taller man has his back turned to you while the shorter man is chuckling, hitting the taller man on the back. His eyes move to you, he’s fit, well built, tanned skin, he runs his hand through his slick mohawk, you could have swore he just winked at you. You turn your attention back to the man leading you as you reach a metal staircase.

The second floor-if you can even call it that-is furnished with sofa’s and a kitchenette, you can see a dart board and what looks like a pool table. Looks like a cool place to hangout. You feel bad for not asking the man his name as he leads you an office door. He knocks and you both wait. 

“Come in!” a voice calls, you think you recognise it, its the same person you spoke to on the phone yesterday. The door opens and you walk in. You look at the man sat behind the desk, he looks older then the other people you’ve seen, his beard makes him look older then you suspect for some reason, you can see the bags under his eyes like he could do with long nap.

“Thanks Kyle,” He says as you walk in. Okay, his name was Kyle you’d have to remember that. He nods leaving the room closing the door behind you. The man behind the desk gets up as you walk over to him. He comes round putting his hand out for you to shake it.

“John Price,” he says as he nods at you smiling. You nod back.

“Sit please, coffee? Tea?” He gestures to the chair and walks back round the desk. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You look up at him smiling as you sit down. His office walls are massive windows looking down on the room below you can see people moving around now opening the back of the vans. You look back up at him as he takes a paper in his hand. 

“3 years as a supply chain manager, studied business in college, pretty impressive.” He says putting the paper back down. 

“Thank you,” you say, not that it’s really that impressive the only reason you did a business course was to make your parents happy. You had no idea what you wanted to do when you finished secondary school. 

“So do you have any experience in warehouse management?” He asks leaning forward on the desk. 

“Well at my last job towards the end, there was a lot of inventory organisation and I was pretty much left in charge of clearing the whole place out before the business went under.” You say, you’re not sure if that’s what he’s expecting, to be honest with the little research you managed to do and the vague job posting you were not sure what to expect. 

“The jobs pretty simple. There are three main aspects, the first is the most important; the clients send us a list of good they need transporting, it’ll be your job to assign it to a driver then create the invoices, paperwork, the system is already pretty automatic. A lot of it is just data entry if I’m being honest.” You smile at him as he continues, so far it seems like a pretty easy job. 

“The second part is when a client sends a special request, the system is not set up to handle them yet so they can come through as errors, with just an e-mail address attached. If you can assign them to someone great if not forward them on to me. The system will let you know if a driver has available delivery slots.” You nod as he finishes, you could handle this, data entry, assigning jobs to people, easy. 

“Sounds good so far.” You reply. He nods. 

“The last part is just your general office admin work, you’ll man the front desk, answer the phone, the boys will tell you if they need supplies ordering that kind of stuff. The hours are standard 9 to 5, 5 days a week, we’re closed Saturday Sunday.” He says spinning round in his chair and taking some paper from the printer. 

“I live close by actually it’s really convenient.” You say. 

“That’s nice, if you want the job I have a contract ready, you can start tomorrow then you’ll have the weekend off.” He says spinning back round straightening the paper out. That’s sudden, the job did say start immediately though, and you really need this job. 

“Of course, that’s great.” You say smiling, hoping he can’t see your hesitation. He pushes the stack of papers towards you, you flick through the first few pages of standard workers rights. 

“You’ll get 2 weeks paid vacation a year, sick leave and maternity leave should you need it kick in after a month of probation.” He explains, pretty standard. You flick through it to the end page with the salary break down. Holy shit! 

“The job requires a certain level of…Discretion.” He explains. “You’re compensated for the inconvenience.” 

“What like I can’t tell people were I work?” You ask confused. He looks at you like he’s trying to think of what to say. 

“We have clients who expect their information to be handled, appropriately. On top of that some of your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.” He says eventually, you frown. That’s strange and he didn’t answer your question. You nod like you understand though, regardless you’ll take the 'hush money.' Especially since you’ll be making more then you’ve never made for what is basically a data entry job, and maybe having to answer the phone a few times. It almost seems to good to be true. You skim over the rest of the legal jargon and company rules. 

“Any questions?” He asks as you pick up a pen, you shake your head and sign both pieces of the paper, then hand it to him. He smiles signing it too and ripping off one of the pages handing it back to you. 

“One last thing.” He says hesitating for a second. “Do you have a criminal record?” 

“No,” you shake your head. He stands nodding and you get up too, as he walks round the desk, heading for the door to his office and you follow him. 

“I’ll get one of the boys to show you round before you leave.” He says opening the door.

“MacTavish!” He calls as you follow him out the room. You watch as a man appears at the bottom of the steps, it’s the guy from earlier who was laughing. He’s defiantly good looking there’s no denying it. 

“Come show our new recruit around.” He nods coming up the stairs. 

“If you have any questions let me know and I’ll e-mail you a full copy of your contract.” John says as he puts his hand out and you shake it. 

“I will thank you,” you smile and he heads back into his office. 

“John MacTavish!” The man says extending his hand out to you, he’s got an accent for a second you look at him confused.

“Another John?” You ask as you shake his hand. 

“Aye, most people call me Johnny though.” He winks. Now you’re sure he winked at you earlier. He walks round you over to the sofa’s and the pool table. 

“This is where we chill out between deliveries, or just in general. Do you play?” He asks pointing at the pool table. 

“Once or twice, at the pub.” You say. You’re still trying to pin his accent, Welsh or Scottish? You’re too embarrassed to ask. He comes back over to you and you see he’s walking with a limp, it’s especially obvious as you follow him down the steps and he has to grip the banister for support. 

“This is were we load the vans up with anything we need, toilets over there and next to them is the store room.” He says pointing to the rooms directly under the upstairs office. There are metal shelves filled with all different kinds of things from basic office supplies to what looks like medical equipment and machinery. The store room door is the only door you’ve seen with a key-code lock on it, makes sense. There is a long table surrounded by chairs and a projector against a far wall. You look over to see another man sat at the table typing on a laptop. 

“This is Simon, Simon Riley.” Johnny says as he takes you over. He’s wearing a hoodie pulled over his head and a black surgical mask. Maybe he’s a clean freak? Or maybe this was what John meant by ‘Your colleagues like to keep their work and home life separate.’ You extend your hand out too him as you approach. 

“Nice to meet you.” You say, he looks up at you for a second. His eyes are beautiful, a dark caramel, thick eyebrows and you can see strands of blonde hair peaking out from under his hood. He shakes your hand, his grip is firm, you swallow hard. He’s giving off a different vibe then the rest of the people you’ve met so far, you almost want to run away from him. 

“Don’t worry about him he’s always grumpy in the morning.” Johnny says leaning into your ear. Simon rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to typing on the laptop. John, Johnny, Simon and Kyle, you repeat the names in your head so they’re burned into your memory. Johnny continues his tour showing you round the main floor, you were right as he explained the building used to be a mechanics until they took it over. Before that it was an abandoned munitions processing plant from the second world war. The building did look old, stylish red brick, huge arched windows that let in a lot of natural light. The doors were even old on rollers, thick and wooden. The more you looked around the more it reminded you of the old workhouses you’d seen in history books. Johnny leads you through to the lobby, the only part of the building that seems to have been renovated in the last 10 years. 

“This is Kyle Garrick, we call him Gaz.” Johnny says as Kyle stands up and you shake his hand. He’s fit too, dark skinned, short hair and he’s got a lovely smile, London accent you can tell he’s local too. 

“This will be where you work.” Johnny says pulling the chair out. 

“I’m sure Price will give you the rundown tomorrow on how the system works, we’re still working on getting it up and running properly.” Johnny says enthusiastically. You nod looking round at the desk, there is a large printer/photocopier in the corner and a plant that looks like it’s seen better days. At least the computer is up to date and honestly you can work with this. 

“So nervous for your first day?” Johnny asks as Kyle sits back down. 

“Not really.” You say smiling. 

“Good lass, that’s what we like to hear!” Johnny says patting you on the shoulder. Scottish, definitely Scottish. Kyle chuckles as he goes back to typing on the computer. You feel like now is the best time to take your leave. You thank Johnny and tell them both you’ll see them tomorrow. 

“Wait a second lass, here.” Johnny reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card.

“Any questions drop me a message.” He smiles. You nod pocketing the card and heading out. You look back at the building as you leave seeing Johnny wave, you wave back awkwardly. Why would anyone care about keeping there home and work life separate when you work for a simple delivery company? You think back to Simon with the mask, maybe he’s just hygienic? Regardless it was a good job, close to home and good pay. You wouldn’t have to rely on your mum or your ex to get you through the month. At least that was a weight off your shoulders.  

———————���—— 

Later that evening your mother calls.

“Hey mum.” You say as you reluctantly pick up the call, not really feeling in the mood for her energetic energy, especially after Johnny’s enthusiastic tour.   

“Hey sweetie! I was just thinking about you today and I thought I would call to tell you, Anne from church has a job opening at her son’s restaurant. You know Chris? He works at that nice Italian place, well I said you were looking for a job and Anne said she would put in a good word.” You sigh as you let your mother talk. 

“It’s okay mum I got a job today actually. I went for an interview and they offered me the job on the spot.” You say.

“Oh sweetie that’s amazing where is it?” She asks, you pause, maybe telling your over sharing mother about a job you were warned required discretion was not the best idea. 

“It’s just a small firm in the city centre, they were looking for a logistical analyst.” You say lying through your teeth. 

“Oh well that sounds fancy, I hope it pays well if you’ll have to be trudging into the centre of London everyday.” You hear her chuckle.

“It does mum don’t worry, I start tomorrow actually.” 

“That’s fantastic, I’m sure you’ll do great.” 

“Thanks mum.” You say smiling. There’s a pause on the line.

“Have you spoken to Joe?” She asks, you sigh. 

“No mother I have not spoken to him since we broke up.” You reply bitterly wanting to end the conversation now.  

“He’s been asking about you, you blocked him or ignored him or something but sweetie I think you should talk to him he misses you.” You sigh, of course he’s turned on your mum, your sweet mother who couldn’t hurt a fly and always sees the best in people. Even toxic abusers. 

“I’ll think about it mum, look I have to go I have an early start tomorrow.” You say.

“Okay well get a good rest and good luck for tomorrow I love you.” She says.

“I love you too,” you reply and hang up.

That night you dream of your ex. You’re still with him trapped in the cycle of wake, make him happy, work, make him happy, sleep, repeat. The verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the days he would lock you in the bathroom for hours on end.

You took the lock off the door when he moved out. You’re not sure why it just felt like the right thing to do. You bought a deadbolt for the front door and no longer sleep with the windows open, fearing he could scale the apartment building to get to you. That’s what he does in your dreams, he gets around all the precautions you put in place. You dream of him being in your space, questioning everything you do, insisting on checking your phone and e-mails, even your work ones. Anytime a male’s name came up he would grill you about it for hours, no matter what you said it always felt like he never believed you. But then he would make you feel good, take you to the bedroom and treat you like a princess and it was like he was a different person. 

‘He’s just protective sweetie’ your mother says. ‘He loves you.’ The bruises on your arm would say otherwise, wearing turtle necks in summer became your fashion statement for at least a year. ‘He probably doesn’t mean it have you tried talking to him?’ Your brother was no better, to busy with uni to care, too much of a mans man to understand. He’s gone now though and that’s what you have to remember, it’s easier said then done. 

 —————————— 

The next morning you show up early. Your body feels heavy after the restless night. You walk in seeing John bent over Kyle’s shoulder as their looking at something on the computer behind the counter. 

“Hey, maybe you can figure this out, we’ve been trying to get these documents to copy over and it’s just not working.” Price says as he steps back you walk round watching Kyle trying to drag and drop a file into a folder. An administrative error pops up. 

“Mind if I?” You gesture for Kyle to move he holds his hands up rolling away on the chair as you try again. You’re not the most competent with computers but you could probably figure it out. You try compressing the file first then moving it and it works. 

“What did you do?” Kyle asks.

“I think the file was too big so I compressed it, do you need it sent in an e-mail?” You ask looking at John.

“Yes please if you don’t mind.” You nod. 

“Coffee?” Kyle asks as he gets up out the seat heading into the main building. 

“Yes please.” You say turning to smile at him and pulling the chair over so you can sit down. Price explains how everything works as you get situated. He shows you the documents on the computer for how to answer the phone, and deal with walk in requests. The ‘system’ they have set up for assigning deliveries is basically just a glorified spreadsheet which is good, you can work with that it’s not too far out of your comfort zone. 

“If you have any questions just call, there is a direct line to my office if you press 1 on the phone.” You nod trying to take it all in as Kyle comes back with a cup of coffee. 

“I didn’t know how you took it so I just did milk.” He says. 

“That’s fine thank you.” You reply, as he places it next to you. Then heads back. John tells you again to ask if you need anything then also leaves you too it. You’re looking through the computer making sure you defiantly understand everything when Simon and Johnny walk in. 

“Morning,” you say to them smiling.

“Morning lass, guess we didn’t scare you away yesterday!” Johnny beams, he seems to have too much energy especially compered to Simon who is still sporting his hoodie and mask combo. His eyes lock onto you as he walks through the lobby, his glare sending shivers down your spine. In a strange way, you’re not scared of him, more intrigued. He walks through the counter to the main floor without saying anything. 

“Sorry, he’s a rude bastard when he hasn’t had a coffee yet.” Johnny says.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. You look through the window into the main floor watching Gaz open the large garage doors out to the street. 

“Hey, if we’re both around at 12 want to get lunch together? I know this great sandwich place down the road my treat!” Johnny says. You nod, he really has a way of putting you at ease with his palpable bubbly energy. 

“Right, I’ll see ya then lass,” he says and he heads through. 

The morning goes quick or maybe it’s because everything feels so new and foreign that it takes you a lot of concentration to make sure you’re doing it right. Before you even try to do anything you’re already calling John in his office about the names, instead of it being Johnny, Simon and Kyle, it’s Gaz, Soap and Ghost. Gaz you remember but the other two it’s a 50/50. John laughs and tells you Soap is Johnny and Ghost is Simon.

Each time you give them a job they stick their heads round the door to pick up the invoice, you try to make it a habit of printing it out as soon as you assign the job, so it’s ready when they come in. You purposely give Simon a job over lunch so Johnny is free, it’s a little cheeky for your first day but you wouldn’t mind spending more time with Johnny. 

When lunch comes around Johnny shows you how to set the phone to go to Price’s office and you both leave. The shop is right round the corner but by this time of the day it’s packed with people on their lunch break, you order your sandwiches to go and head back to work to eat them there. You’re both sat upstairs in on the sofa’s, it is nice up here and you can see down to the floor below you gives you something to watch while you eat. 

“How’s your first day been so far then?” Johnny asks.

“Fine, it’s just getting used to the system that might take a while.” You confess.

“Yeah, you’re doing great though, my jobs have been smooth and easy all day.” He says. You nod. 

“So how did you all meet?” You ask.

“Now that’s a story!” He says sitting up in his chair. 

“We were all military together, SAS.” He says. That explains the company name Special Delivery Service, you chuckle it’s cute, funny now you get it.

“Why’d you quit?” You ask. 

“Our time was up we chose not to re-enlist, it was Simon’s idea to start a delivery company, something easy we could do in retirement.” He says smiling at your interest. 

“Did you ever kill anyone?” You ask, but then immediately regret it, you don’t know if that’s an appropriate question to ask. Johnny just laughs.

“Someone's got to deal with the bad guys.” He says winking. 

“Don’t mean they didn’t fight back. Got a nice fucked up knee to show for it.” Johnny says slapping his left leg. That explains the limp he always has when hes walking. 

“Has John always been your boss?” You ask moving it away from killing people and being shot.

“Price, yeah he was our captain, it just felt right letting him continue to tell us what to do.” Johnny explains, chuckling. You nod listening to him talk about their life in the military, he’s careful not to go too into specifics, but enough for you to understand it seemed like it was quite a dangerous job. Johnny mentioned something about bombs at one point, that’s scary. 

“I bet you travelled a lot though?” You ask finishing your sandwich. 

“Oh yeah! That was one of the perks I guess, been all over the place, met some great people.” Johnny says naming a bunch of countries off. You watch as Simon comes back reversing the van into the bay. He jumps out and heads straight into the store room. That reminded you you needed to ask for the code. Johnny gets up checking his watch and throwing his trash in the bin. 

“Got a delivery to make, I’ll see you later.” He says heading to the stairs. You nod smiling. When you’re done you knock on John’s door before you head downstairs. 

“Come in!” He calls. You go in, for some reason you get this feeling like you’re back at school walking into a teachers office about to ask them for the key to the storage room to get more paper. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks smiling, it almost immediately puts you at ease. 

“Good, I was just wondering, the store room, Johnny showed me yesterday but he didn’t give me the code.” You explain. Price nods his head. 

“You don’t need the code, it’s for the drivers only, it’s where we keep, sensitive equipment.” He explains. You nod feeling heat rush to your cheeks, maybe you should have asked Johnny instead saved yourself the embarrassment of this conversation. 

“Got it, thank you.” You nod leaving the room and closing the door behind you. What kind of sensitive equipment? You hadn’t seen anyone moving anything in or out of there, and you’re pretty sure you saw Simon go in empty handed just now. You’re just more curious then ever. You look down the steps at Simon making his way up with a mug of tea in his hand. You wait until he has reached the top of the stairs before heading down. You smile at him, you can’t tell if he’s smiling back with the mask but you’re assuming he’s not. You make your way back down as he walks into John’s office without knocking. 

The rest of the day seems to go by slower, your mind obsessing over the store room for some reason. It’s like an itch you need to scratch, you find yourself looking over to check it now and again. You get a few of those ‘special request’s’ John warned you about, you try to assign them but it doesn’t work. Clearly the system does not like it so you send them off to John. It’s almost like they’re encrypted, maybe you could figure out how to fix it and stop the system from freezing up every time it happens, a task for next week you think.

Jobs stop coming through around 3 and you spend the last few hours of your shift catching up on the other part of your admin job, then you find yourself cleaning the coffee machine. Johnny and Gaz leave early, apparently this is normal for Friday, you wish them a good weekend as they leave going out the vehicle entrance closing the garage doors behind them. You head to use the bathroom next, as you’re washing your hands you hear the door of the store room beep open and the sound of feet running in and out. You hear it open but you don’t hear it close.

You hold your breath, could it be? It’s open. You’re excited for some reason. You quickly slip out cracking the door. Sure enough the door didn’t fully close it’s stuck on the latch. Your curiosity gets the better of you, you can’t help it. You look round quickly, you don’t see anyone, you don’t hear anyone. You push the door open, it’s dark you can’t see inside. You take a step in and an automatic light flicks on. You gasp as you look around the room. It’s way bigger then you expected, so big there is enough room for a table in the middle. Each part of the wall is covered in weapons, knifes, somethings you don’t even know what they would be but they look scary.

The hairs are standing up on the back of your neck, it’s almost like your fight or flight has kicked in as your eyes widen. There are crates everywhere some open with what look like boxes of ammo. You let out a breath feeling fear rise in you, maybe it was airsoft? You move to look in one of the crates near the entrance. Nope those are real bullets. You shouldn’t have seen this you feel panic rising. This is bad and very illegal. You start to back out the room, slowly you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Your body hits something, not something someone. You hear a sigh. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” It’s Simon. You slowly turn his head is tilted to the side his brow creased as his gaze burns into you. Fuck.

Next

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[ieetbeez]

Small Rant About RE

Hello gang... This has been on my mind for awhile. Today we're talking about Resident Evil and particularly Leon stans. Now I'm gonna come out and say I am one of them! I love that silly little blonde man and he's like number 1 on my favorite capcom white boy tier list next to Cody from Final Fight/SF.

tw: mentions of rape, pedophilia, incest, abuse, and my opinion

Let me make it clear, I'm not kink shaming, I'm not advocating for censorship. Art and literature shouldn't be censored. Sex is cool. Kink is cool (when safe and consensual).

I'm gonna be one of those fans real quick and say, I've been an RE fan since I was like 7. That doesn't really mean much since I can't drink legally but I've been in love with Leon since elementary school. I watched my Dad and brother play RE6 co-op and man... Aka I've been in the fandom for a fat minute. Before the RE2 remake came out I'd see the occasional Dead Dove fic but that's whatever. But I have never seen this much dark romance about Leon of all people!

Like. Call it the T-Virus the way it's everywhere I swear I can't scroll down the damn tag without getting hit with a sexual crime. And let me say, I'm not new to fandom culture. I take don't like don't read to heart (I'm super picky LMAO). And I understand that, that's just how big fandoms are, more people, more bad eggs. I'm sure the majority of y'all are sweet people.

BUT I feel like I shouldn't have to say that romanticizing things like pedophilia, rape, abuse, and incest is disgusting in the big year 2025 but here we are. Honestly, I feel this way about a lot of the fics of other fandoms I'm in. I feel crazy seeing it everywhere and it makes me feel like some sort of sexual puritan. Am I insane for wanting freaky smut and not ...freaky smut??

There for sure is a bigger conversation here about how easily accessible porn is and how quick people to fall into these pipelines. Or how booktok caused a rise in the normalization of dark romance troupes and just pure porn writing (I still hate icebreaker). Or how quick form constant content is slowly leaking it's way into everything. But we’d be here for forever…

And like, it's just completely out of character?? Like if you're gonna write about that can it at least be in character? Wesker fits the dark romance thing LEAGUES better. But LEON?? THE POLICE OFFICER?? Did you even watch a walkthrough? Leon is a sweet upstanding guy with lots of trauma, that is the last thing he'd do to ANYONE! Not saying fics have to be completely accurate all the time but there's literally nothing fun about "Omg what if Leon RAPED you!?" HES NOT THE EVIL RESIDENT HERE GUYS! At some point it's not even about Leon (or whoever the fic is about) anymore, it's just someone wanting to share their sexual fantasies online.

These topics are almost never written with any care and are insanely insensitive to the survivors of these acts. I don't know, sexual crimes are literally some of the most deplorable acts of hatred and depravity someone can do onto another person. I can't imagine getting off to the suffering of others (in a heinous crime way not BDSM way) (BDSM is cool). Have some fucking empathy and stop thinking with your goon wad guys <3

Like at least take it to AO3 so that I can filter it out or smth...

Edit: I just woke up and remembered what else I was gonna say.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their fictional characters. Another thing I don’t like are the Gooner mods for the games. Like they’re fun every once in a while and like if it’s a capcom game you have to expect it. At some point though, it just stops being sexy and feels gross or uncomfortable.

Idk maybe I’m in the minority here but there has never been a single time where I was playing any RE game and thought to myself, “man… I wish I could see Leon’s end rod whipping in the wind rn…” Obviously, I wanna see that man oiled up butt booty naked doing jumping jacks like as most normal people do but… zawg…

That’s also like an actual person?? At least for the remakes. Maybe this just isn’t my dove to eat but the treat Leon like some sort doll. I know it’s kinda weak to be like this for a fictional person but yeah </3

[solarmorrigan]

Open Doors, Part 1

Ao3

Everyone was so kind about the first fic I wrote about Steve and Eddie's neighbor adopting them that I had a few more thoughts about it! I owe you all thanks for the inspiration and I hope this is also an enjoyable read <3 Part two will be up later this week

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, past minor character death, car accident mention, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia

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Gladys isn’t a churchgoing woman. She’s never even been particularly religious, beyond a performative sort of faith for the sake of her God-fearing mother (God rest her soul, Gladys supposes), but Sundays are sacred, all the same.

Sundays are for Murder She Wrote. And, more recently, they’re for dinner with her boys.

Neither Eddie nor Steve are the religious sort, either (she’d brought it up once, just to see, and they’d laughed a little in an uncomfortable sort of way that had told Gladys all she’d really needed to know), but Steve is a fellow fan of Jessica Fletcher, and Eddie is happy enough to join them on the couch after a good meal and watch them compete to see who can guess the solution first.

It’s something they all look forward to, so Gladys isn’t sure why she’s been left standing in front of the boys’ front door a full minute after she’s knocked. They ought to be expecting her, after all; they take turns hosting, and Gladys is sure it had been her turn last week. She knocks again, a little louder this time.

After another few moments, she hears the thud of hurried footsteps coming towards the door, and then Eddie’s voice is hissing out at her before he’s even finished opening it.

“I’m here already, now will you keep it–” he falters when he sees her standing before him on the doormat, “–down?”

“Well, if I’d known that was the kind of welcome I’d receive, I would have stayed home,” Gladys says dryly.

Eddie’s face morphs quickly from irritation to confusion and, finally, to a kind of horrified understanding.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday,” he realizes, voice still pitched low.

Taking in the state of him, it seems as though Gladys has interrupted some kind of lazy day; his hair is a mess (more so than usual), and he’s in pajamas and bare feet.

It smarts a little to think their evening has been so easily forgotten.

“It is Sunday,” Gladys confirms, maybe a little sharply. “But I can see you’ve had other things to do, so maybe we’ll just try again for next week.”

“I’m sorry, Gladys,” Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Today’s been… stressful. I swear I meant to call, I just got distracted.”

Gladys softens. She doubts if she could stay mad terribly long even if they had forgotten, but it’s nice to know they hadn’t, exactly. “It’s fine, Eddie,” she says, reaching out to pat his hand.

“It’s not, I seriously meant to let you know,” Eddie insists. “We can make it up to you next week? Or maybe, like, Tuesday? Tomorrow’s not gonna work, but–”

Whatever else Eddie has to say is lost when the door at the end of the hall, the one Gladys knows from the layout of her own apartment leads to the larger of two bedrooms, swings open with a creak. It’s dark beyond the threshold, but Steve is standing in the doorway, holding onto the edge of it and looking far more disheveled than Eddie.

With a faint flush of embarrassment, Gladys wonders if she’s walked in on some sort of… private time between them, but then Steve takes a few unsteady steps into the hallway and has to brace himself against the wall, and she realizes that something else altogether must be going on.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, leaving Gladys at the front door to rush down the hall and support Steve. “What’re you doing up?”

Steve, also clad in pajamas, his face almost shock-pale and his hair flatter than Gladys has ever seen it, makes a little noise of discomfort as Eddie pulls him away from the wall. It’s jarring to see when Gladys is so used to Steve moving with the confidence and easy grace of the athlete he’d told her he once was. His eyes are scrunched shut, but he moves from leaning heavily on the wall to leaning heavily on Eddie without hesitation.

“You were gone,” Steve mumbles, his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glances down the hall to where Gladys stands at the still-open front door, something almost like nervous, but he doesn’t make Steve move away. Instead, he moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders, kneading gently. “I had to get the door. Gladys is here.”

“Gladys?” Steve mutters, and then, after another moment of silence, groans, “Oh, shit, it’s Sunday.”

Gladys almost laughs at the way he unwittingly echoes Eddie. Eddie does laugh; just a little breath of a thing, something helplessly fond crossing his face.

“It’s fine, Steve. We’ll take a raincheck,” Gladys says, just loud enough that she’ll still be heard from the other end of the short hall.

Steve makes a protesting noise, straightening a little so he can face the front door. He opens his eyes just enough to squint at her, and it really only serves to make him look more pained and tired. “’m sorry,” he mutters, his words stumbling worryingly into each other. “Wasn’xpecting this today.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys says again. “You just feel better.”

He’s still frowning, and Gladys gets the feeling it’s as much out of displeasure with the situation as it is out of discomfort, but then Eddie tugs gently at his shoulders, turning him back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon, ba– Steve. Let’s get you back to bed.” Eddie glances down the hall at Gladys one more time before leading Steve away.

Silence falls over the apartment, and Gladys takes the opportunity to invite herself in, shutting the door behind her. She won’t stay long, of course, she just wants to be certain that Steve—and Eddie, who had looked awfully stressed—will be alright. The low tone of Eddie’s voice drifts out of the bedroom, quiet and indecipherable, followed by a grumbling that must be Steve, and then Eddie is slipping back out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door as he goes.

“Everything alright?” Gladys asks, keeping her voice low.

Eddie sighs. “He, uh – he gets migraines, sometimes.” He raises a fist and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Took a couple’a knocks to the head when we were younger and– yeah. Today’s a bad one.”

Gladys itches to ask, to press for more information, but she does actually possess a filter; she knows when to hold her tongue, even if she usually chooses not to. Instead, she says, “But he’ll be alright,” not really sure if she’s asking or reassuring.

“No, yeah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.” Eddie nods, as much to himself as to Gladys.

“And you’ll be alright?” Gladys goes on.

Eddie shoots her a funny little look. “Yeah?” His voice quirks up at the end, like he isn’t sure why she’s asking. “I mean, I’m not the one whose brain is staging a full-scale revolt.”

“But you’re here with him,” Gladys says. “It’s hard to watch someone you care about be in pain.”

It had been a car accident that had taken Avery from her, not illness, but the few days she’d spent in the hospital with him, keeping vigil until his damaged body had given up, had been some of the worst of her life.

“I guess.” Eddie sighs, rubbing roughly at his chin. “It’s– They make medication for this shit, but it’s expensive, so we can’t– Sleep is really the only thing that helps, and it just sucks to sit around knowing I can’t do a damn thing for him while he’s– he’s suffering.”

“You’re here with him,” Gladys says again. “It seems like he appreciates that enough that he came looking for you when you’d gone.”

The ghost of a smile crosses over Eddie’s face. “Yeah…”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Gladys reaches out and gives Eddie’s arm a little squeeze, and his smile grows.

He reaches up and twists his fingers into the ends of his hair, half-ducking behind it, as if he’s trying to hide the smile from her, but she can hear it in his voice when he tosses out a quick, “Well– thanks.”

“You just keep taking care of your boy, and I’ll see you two later in the week,” Gladys says, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’ll–” he stops, blinking at Gladys as the full sentence hits him. “Uh–”

Gladys offers him a smile, seeing herself out the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” she tosses back over her shoulder quietly as she can, and shuts the door on his confounded expression.

She doesn’t know much about migraines, but she supposes she could learn. In the meantime, she decides that no matter what the ailment is, chicken soup is always an appropriate answer.

[janeuary-month]

End of event round-up!

Thank you to everyone who created such amazing fanworks for Janeuary 2025, and to those who supported the creators by reading, leaving kudos and comments, and liking and reblogging!

Major kudos to Kalee233 and @arsenic-lobster who each created something for every single day of the event! Wow!

Also a special shout-out to these folks who created for over 15 of the days: @elmorinn, @jomiddlemarch, @dionysiaproductions, Kissed _by_Circe

But even if you created for only one day, we’re so thrilled you did. As of today, 57 creators together added 104 fics (view the entire collection on AO3) and 40 pieces of art related to Jane Austen into the world!

🙏 Before I give you any other stats, can I ask you to take 1 minute to fill out this survey about the event? Thanks!

Ok, now that that’s done, here's some other stats (which are subject to change as people keep submitting late works—it’s still not too late to do that, folks!):

Total # of all fanworks: 172

Fanfic: 98 works

Fanart: 27

OC art: 13

Fanvids: 6

Memes: 6

OC fic: 6

Comics: 5

Gifsets: 4

Edits: 3

Moodboards: 2

Crack: 1

Photography: 1

All fandoms: 25

Pride and Prejudice: 62 works

Persuasion: 30

Emma: 24

Sense and Sensibility: 23

Original works (no fandom): 22

Northanger Abbey: 19

Mansfield Park: 6

Rivals: 4

Sanditon: 2

Beauty and the Beast: 2

ACOTAR: 2

1 work each: Attack on Titan, Avatar: The Legend of Korra, Blackadder, The Borgias, The Good Place, Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Leverage, Lord of the Rings, Mass Effect, MCU, The Mirror Visitor, Why Didn't They Ask Evans?

We also had 2 works about Jane Austen herself, and I’m not sure what fandom to count that as: Jane Austen RPF?

Top 13 daily prompts used:

Day 1 Letters: 22 works

Day 4 Portraiture and Day 16 Gossip are tied: 16 works each

Day 2 Harp: 15

Day 6 Restraint and Day 13 Christian name are tied: 13 works each

3-way tie between Day 3 Bath, Day 8 Cravat, and Day 20 Dearest: 12 works each

4-way tie between Day 11 Card playing, Day 14 Pianoforte, 19 Lock of hair, Day 30 Garden: 11 works each

Top 10 characters used:

Elizabeth Bennet

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Anne Elliot

Emma Woodhouse

Captain Wentworth

Marianne Dashwood

Catherine Morland

George Knightley

Colonel Brandon

Henry Tilney

Top 10 ships used:

Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy

Anne Elliot/Captain Wenworth

George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse

Colonel Brandon/Marianne Dashwood

Catherine Morland/Henry Tilney

Charles Bingley/Jane Bennet

4-way tie between Catherine & Isabella, Charlotte & Elizabeth, Charlotte/Collins, and Elinor & Marianne

Observations, surprises, and learnings

Mostly canon pairings: Almost everyone depicted canon romantic and platonic pairings. Only 7 romantic ships were non-canon pairings, and they each had only 1 work. Not a single one was gay! 😢 (Which is motivating me to finally write that Wentworth/Brandon fic for next year!)

Mostly core Austen fandoms: I expected a lot more works from non-Austen fandoms, given how often I see people draw and write Regency AUs for every fandom under the sun, as well as original works, and given how many people from non-Austen fandoms I notified about the event! Also, not a single work was submitted related to a modern Austen adaptation, like Bride and Prejudice, Clueless, or Lizzie Bennet Diaries. I’m not disappointed by any of this, just surprised.

Very few gifs: While I love the 4 new gifsets made for the event, I was disappointed there were only 4, considering how many Austen gifsets I see made for Period Drama Appreciation Week, for instance, and how popular Austen gifsets are on Tumblr. Next year, I will make a concerted effort to contact more gif-makers. (And if you have any you’d love to see join, tell them about this blog! I only just found out about @regencysource yesterday, curses!)

Creativity boost: Several people told me that this event inspired them to start writing again after a block, or post a fic for the first time, or finish a fic they were stuck on. This was so wonderful to hear that the event boosted creators in this way! It made me so very happy. ❤️

Prompt interpretation: My goal with the prompts was that they be somewhat Austen/Regency-specific but not the standard, obvious choices like balls, dancing, proposals, etc., because those wouldn’t be very inspiring since they’re so common already. It was a joy to see the different ways that people used the prompts. For instance, Bath the place vs bath the activity, or literally hunting animals vs figuratively hunting men. And even the folks who used modern AUs found ways to make the very dated prompts like cravat and calling cards work! Bravo on everyone’s creativity!

👉  If you have any suggestions for prompts for next year, or other feedback, I’d love it if you shared it with me via this very short and easy survey!

I had a blast hosting this, so Janeuary will definitely be back for 2026! Keep your eyes peeled for the prompts in September!

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

July LU Write-a-Thon: 351,092 Words in One Day!

On July 1, we hosted our second monthly LU Write-a-thon (organized by @not-freyja and @hotcheetohatredwastaken and joined by their new mods @noorahqar, @a-manicured-lawn, and @winterfen). The purpose of this event was to write as many productive words—words that furthered yourself, the LU writing community at large, or your own stories—within 24 hours as humanly possible. 

We had a whopping 90+ participants as opposed to our previous 16 - none of us expected such a large turnout, and were suitably unprepared 😅 We’ll definitely be making a lot of changes to accommodate that many people during the next Write-a-Thon, occurring August 1st. Thank you all for your patience!

But, until next month, here’s the awards and titles earned by each participant, as voted upon by the Discord server through an anonymous survey. The mods read through all your hundreds of submissions (thank you guys so much!) and picked either the highest voted title or the funniest custom submission for each person, as we found appropriate. First up is the winner’s circle, then the clubs, and then everybody else in alphabetical order right below this readmore!

The Winner’s Circle (5 Most Wordiest)

20,037 “Writer of All Time” and “Most Likely to Make 1K become 100K” (As can be seen in all its glory in your Aspects AU) @tashacee: You took advantage of Freyja and Cheeto’s beefing about who would be first and snapped up the win right from under their noses. Well played! 

20,011 “Writer of Some of the Time” and “Pen and Paper (Scritch... Scratchy?)” @hotcheetohatredwastaken: Missed the mark by juuust a bit, for the second time in a row. Cheeto, you suck. (:3 –Cheeto) (Qar wrote this, for reference!). Also wrote for most of the marathon on pen and paper!

17,491 “Writer of Last Time” (for winning last month and then failing to defend their title) and “The FourShadow-er of all Time” (for the unholy amount of Chekov’s Guns they leave lying around loaded in their docs) @not-freyja: you are the most autistic about Legend. Nerd.

13,203 “Will Make You Cry” and “Captain of the Twilight Angst Tag on Ao3” @somer-writes: Boosting the Twilight economy, and we’re all happy about it. Also the second-funniest person in the server, with the second-most stars!

13,000 “AU Collector” and “Four Enjoyer” @zarvasace: Whether they're heroes with disabilities, space rangers, or vampires, if Mina wrote it, the boys will be written well.

Clubs

Now while everyone’s accomplishments as individuals were nothing to sneeze at, teamwork does in fact make the dream work. A few lovely people made a couple of equally lovely groups, either by their own choice or as assigned by peer review.

Aimed for the Funny Numbers Club

“Literally Satan” @allwayswildchild: with exactly 6666 words, you deserve every bit of this cursed title. 

“Lawn Blart Mall Cop” and “Qar's Mom in a Moment of Weakness Apparently (And Then Qar’s Sister in a Moment of Un-Weakness)” @a-manicured-lawn: The latter explains itself. Apparently, the vision of Lawn segwaying around is amusing. [Some people just can’t appreciate the beauty of a white shirt, tie, and glorious moped… ~Lawn]

“The Reincarnated” @defenestration13: Hadn't written in six months but then reappeared to write multiple thousand words. Good job.

“Multimedia Powerhouse” @passerinesoncaffeine: The art, the writing, Raven's got it all! Painting, analyzing music, commenting, whatever you touch it turns to gold.

“Dark Miette” goes to @rebornofstars: An inside joke that I don’t understand. Also thought you should know that you got [insert bee pun].

“The Memer” and “Literally Wind” @savimatteo2810: These are related.

“The Quoter” @whatvioletdoes-blog: For spending the event harvesting quotable quotes for their chat-fic.

(freyja overshot all potential funny numbers, but is a member at heart)

Most Likely to Get Fangirled (Gender Neutral) Over Club

“Literally Hyrule” @across-violet-skies: Also called the Spunky Sidekick and a calming jasmine tea type person. Hopefully your ghost pepper recovery goes well. 

“The Snippeter” @imperialkatwala: For sharing so many snippets to us hungry folk. Thank you kindly.

“Friend Shaped” @polynomialpandemic: A friend to all. Also a “Snippeter” - thank you for feeding the masses!

“Four Tormentor” @undertheopensky: For really obvious reasons. Also managed to make Freyja scream for 10 minutes with your mere presence alone!

Other Friend Groups

“Sad Wet Cat Club” @cinis0 and @lunaopus, you two seem to have nominated one another, so you get this club all to yourselves! However, I would love to know what the talk of forgetting that the Queen died was about…. (Qar has requested to be an honorary member of this club)

@awildsilver and @four-eyed-nerd, you two get to come together as “Four-Eyed-Nerd’s Rat” and “AWildSilver’s Cat,” which is I think our favorite group of all in this month’s running. I do have some additional questions for you two, however, about a mention of the bee movie as an original work (allowed as long as it’s not copy pasted and also hilarious) for you Wild and the title “Honey I shrunk the Links” for you, Four. 

The Community Support Team

“The Commentator of All Time” @1-renegade: To directly quote, “Ain't NOBODY give better feedback and comments than lawlessland.” 

“Will Make You Cry” @artsyanonymity: Anonymity is the sweetest and kindest commenter in existence! SHE. WILL. MAKE. YOU. CRy. Writes the nicest comments and they make me (and apparently several others) cry

“The Encouragement Itself” @cat-at-a-writing-desk: For encouraging others to reach their goals. We appreciate you!

“Drill Sergeant” @gintrinsic-writing: Made Qar get 5k and scared everyone else into writing. (You did it! I got 5k! The fear (with funny intonation) dragged me over the finish line -Qar)

“Drawer of A Thousand Words” @la-sera: Ruler of the Legend and Hyrule brotherhood, inspirer of writers, and the spreader of so much love with your art this Fan Joy July with the art you spent the marathon working on. Can’t wait to see it all as the month goes on.

“The Reader of all Time” @life-in-winter: Or as you all probably know her, passerine44, the writer of the best ao3 comments of all time. Thea, you walk into a digital room and every writer there makes heart eyes at you. Cannot wait to read the writing you’ve been working on (and leave a comment) to return the favor.

“The Respondent of All Time” @silvrash-797: Silvrash had over four months of unanswered ao3 comments that she caught up with, congrats!

“Lives up to the Screen Name” @sunny-porridge: To quote: “Sunny is 100% a ray of sunshine and anyone who says otherwise can FIGHT ME” and I think we all agree.

“The Wildest Supporter.” @twilightangel83: Supported people and sent a lot of Wild emojis, so much so that we started picturing you as Wild!

“Poet” and “Master of the Shrimp Check” @winterfen: Writes good poetry, and also made sure that everyone was appropriately fed, hydrated, and rested for this event. 

Transfer Students

“I don’t work here, Lady” goes to bArk who neither has a tumblr nor writes for this fandom, but showed up and had fun anyways. Thanks for joining us!

“He Who Finished His Book” goes to jr_for_potus44 (not on Tumblr). Congrats!

“Split Screen” goes to @straight-outta-hobbiton for writing two fics on two screens at the same time, neither of which were LU. Frightening.

The Silent Ones

@pelicanpig, @mmelete, @wayfayrr, @raeofsky, @summaryscar @sunkissedkales: You guys came, you wrote, you did not elaborate. How mysterious your aura is (positive, deeply positive.)

"The Almost Silent One" @the-au-collector: Talked before and after, but not during the event. Probably too busy writing, or busy in general - good job either way!

Everybody else!

“Frequent Flier (WPM)” @anime-obsessed: For participating in so many sprints. Also earned “vocaloid enjoyer.”

“Keyboard Warrior” @august-the-friend: You fought autocorrect and lost 3-0, but it was a valiant fight nonetheless. You did great.

“Artist turned Writer” @aurora-boreas-borealis: Took a break from streaming to write—a huge shout out for all your hard work and your help with colors! (~the actual pigments, not the Links ~Lawn) 

“Literally Sun” @beesandhoney1219: Warmer than sunlight, sweeter than sugar, and absolutely obsessed with Sky’s girlfriend.

“Most Likely to Include Raccoons in their Fic” @bittirsweeteer: They Who Has Given Legend Espresso (thank you for your service).

“Last Minute Vidow” @deleetrix: Something that should always be encouraged. Thank you for feeding us.

“Stargiver” @emberlylion: For starring in a lot of posts, especially cat pics. Thank you for your service.

Move over Time, @estelian-01 “Will Fight Majora and Win” and then go back to studying.

“Studious Student Who (has not) Studied” @gerudoevernight: Self nominated for “Studious Student who Studied” for hitting their goal while in school. The mod team disagreed with the accuracy of that title and affectionately chose this one instead. Good job hitting your goal!

“The Outliner” @gia-d: Accidentally wrote a first draft. Also think it should be noted that everyone is convinced you either could kill a god or that you carry one around in your pocket.

“Onomatopoeia Outrage” @haloburns: Who debated the word “ow” so hard they inflicted it on the people around them.

“The Scholar” @irenkaferalkitty: For her extensive collection of well-researched data, presented in charts, documents and yes, excel sheets. We appreciate you.

“Most Improved” @labyrinthdancer: Their writing has improved a lot since they started posting! also they write really dark twilight & the chain fics. Being a new writer is scary, but they kept at it and are doing so well!

“Writer of Most Cursed Victorian Child” aka their take on Ravio, is @lele5429 with their first ever fic, which is as gorgeous in words as your art is in ink.

“The Hype Man (gender neutral)/Moral Support” @lemoncatssss: For all the encouragement that you gave others. Also the cat photos. Especially the cat photos.

“The accidental friend acquirer” @lennsart: For somehow befriending literally every single person you talk to.

“Severe Case of Clacking” @lerikwrites: You know why. Pennies in a washing machine my friend.

“Hyrule Hurter” goes to @linkiscool333: We all have the blorbo we love to put in the blender, but no one blends Rulie like you do.

“Marcus Actually Writes!?” @marcusdoodlesalot: For a second month in a row, some of us are still befuddled that Marcus is actually a writer, and not just an artist. Hard to believe that someone can have that much talent in both fields.

“Soup Soup Soup Soup Soup (Soup Soup Soup Soup Soup)” @marsnoodlesoup: I... do not know what this means. Congrats, it seems you’re soup.

“The Veteran” @musical-chan: For sharing stories of the early days of fandom. Back in my day but the most positive way possible

“Artist Turned Writer” @mysticstars105: Came out and wrote a whopping 400 words, which is so many words especially when you’re new. Gold Star!

“Art Fight Pre-Gaming” @nebulapaws: For their talk of Art Fight. Hope you have fun participating this month!

“Resident Audiophile” @needfantasticstories: Not just for writing with speech-to-text all day, but for your constant enthusiastic screaming about Epic the musical.

“Most likely to fight God and Win” and “The Modderrrrrr” @noorahqar: Who is actually Sky. Not with the sleepy part though. She actually wrote so much about Sky that he stole all her sleepy. Number one on the starboard, with the proud title of MVM (Most Valuable Mod) for sticking the landing as midnight hit. Also the one with “The Most Sigmas to Grindset” whatever… whatever that means. (Please help what does that mean?) 

“Picture Perfect Exhaustion” @nyastri: Their PFP (Four Doubled Over, hands on knees) combined with the announcement they'd reached their writing goal at the end of the marathon really just sold the picture for me. Well done.

“The Sleepy One” @ocha-blue: who justifiably went to bed as soon as they finished. (Hope you're recovered by now.)

“First Time Fic Writer” @peepthatbish: for breaking into the fic scene and boosting morale for our mod team, especially Lawn. We appreciate you!

“Slow And Steady (WPM)” @pokegeek151: Who was chugging away all day long.

“Doomed by the Narrative” @ra-archives: Google docs acting up, cat sitting on lap, and yet you persisted. Good job.

“My Little Friend Who I Love (This Is Qar Btw) (This Is Part Of The Title)” and “Wordsmith” @rosehipandroots: This is a direct copy paste from your submissions, Rose. Hope you enjoy it. But your amazing descriptions really make you a wordsmith. “The SkyBoy Enjoyer of All Time” @sapphicseasapphire: for your lovely art and writing of the boy!

“Task Succeeded Successfully” @screaming-but-i-have-four-swords: was an artist turned writer that tried to write words, and did! Good job.

“Artist Turned… More Artist” @seaotter-17: We were told you write descriptions like a poet, but in this event, you were most recognizable by your drawings of Nina the cat. Thank you for sharing. 

The “Person with a Passion for Pudding” (which is definitely an inside joke I do not understand, so I hope it makes you laugh) @somanyfanficssolittletime: Thanks for participating!

“The Fic Reccer of all Time” @staring-at-a-blank-page: For recommending so many fics, their own and others, up to read. Thank you!

“The Drabbler” @tenderleavesbob: For their lovely drabbles, of which they wrote around 10k of. The title is appropriate - it seems your drabbles have taken Tumblr (and the participants in this survey) by storm!

“100% Bunny Accurate Fiction”  @toyouhellohowareyou: writer of the most rabbit-fact-checked fics of all time by our own Bunny Lord [Beloved Pet and Bunny Boy (Legend) Himself]

“The Podficcer of All Time” @unexpectedstormy: For podfic making, promoting, and educating. And if that wasn’t enough fae is also our very own “Dragon Tamer” who spent the event working on their HTTYD WIP!

“The Dashshunder” @vivalaplutothedachshund: For sharing your lovely menace of a dog Pluto with us all. We also appreciate you both in the chats and in our rampage to give PolynomialPandemic 109 hugs. 

“Mod Emotional Support. We love you” @wanderlustmagician: You know what you did, and Cheeto’s firstborn deservedly belongs to you.

“Word Weaver” and “Fanfiction Foul---was writing at work instead of working” @weavingstarlight: Your words sparkle as bright as you do, glitter jar.

“Literally First (also shared cat pics)” @witchdoctor39 : Even Hylia can’t hold a candle to how much you love that poor poor man!

Thank all of you for participating, we appreciate each and every one of you so so so much! Please note that we had 90+ participants, and as such, there is probably guaranteed to be some mistakes on the list above. If you find any typos or pronoun goofs or anyone that was put on the list twice or missing or under the wrong name or put under the wrong name or any error that comes with having different discord and tumblr names or if you were left off the list in error or if you want to request a different name than the one you received or you want to be put into or removed from one club or another or anything else that could have gone wrong—please feel free to contact @hotcheetohatredwastaken or @not-freyja with your concerns here on tumblr!

Again, a big thank you to everyone for coming to the event from all of us on the mod team! Can’t wait to see you guys next month! And stay tuned---there will be another post with more information about the next event within the next couple of weeks!

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) You Know I Need Your Love | Explicit | 1,016 words

Harry studied him, eyes lingering on the spit dripping from his tongue in a long, cobweb-like string and pooling on Louis’s naked thighs. Louis waited patiently, fighting the urge to fidget or lunge forward, hoping to be good enough to be allowed an orgasm that night.

2) All Eyes On Me | Explicit | 1,019 words

Louis gets fucked by a fucking machine in a room full of people, and he loves every second of it.

3) I Never Come Close | Explicit | 1,032 words

Louis has the day from hell, Harry knows how to make him forget it.

4) Baby, I'm Yours | Explict | 1,076 words

Louis' obsessed with marking Harry.

5) I'm Too Tired To Be Tough | Explicit | 1,250 words

Louis looks after everyone else all the time. Harry decided to look after him for a change.

6) Sleeping To Dream Of You | Explicit | 1,625 words

Louis has plans for some late night activities, and Harry is never one to deny. Written for day 2 of kinktober, prompt: somnophilia.

7) A Morning In The Frathouse | Explicit | 2,418 words

The one where Louis decided to surprise Harry with a wake-up blowie.

8) Babyboy | Mature | 2,581 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Liam Payne.  This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Liam is Louis' daddy.

9) I Wanted You To Share My Life | Explicit | 2,676 words

“Why the fuck would you kiss that guy right in front of me Louis?” “It’s not like you’re my fucking boyfriend, are you?” Louis rolled his eyes.

10) Let's Get Physical | Explicit | 2,995 words

The one where they use a fitness ball inappropriately.

11) Masks And Sweat | Explicit | 3,082 words

Louis goes to a halloween party without many expectations and ends up meeting Harry, the bass player of one of the bands that performed at the party.

12) Love's A State Of Mind | Teen & Up | 3,041 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“Your omega?” Louis asked softly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Hmmm.” Harry smushed his face in Louis’ shirt, his hand moving up to mess with one of the buttons. “He’s great, my omega. He’s kind and passionate and funny, even when he makes jokes about me.” “He- He sounds great, button.” “He is. You are.” What?!

13) Fight Or Flight | Explicit | 3,156 words

Harry and Louis are enemies who play on the same footie team and an argument turns into a physical fight and that into something no one expected, least of all Louis.

14) Hold Me And Explore Me | Explicit | 3,573 words

Louis and Harry are roomies and Louis really needs Harry to kiss and touch him.

15) I Never Knew Somebody Like You | Explicit | 4,148 words

Louise and Harriet are teammates on the ice skating team but they hate each other.

16) I Want Yesterdays Love | Mature | 4,789 words

Note: the main pairing is Louis/Dev Patel.

“We’re going on holiday before the term starts again,” Oli announces in their kitchen the day after the art opening. Louis looks up from his cereal bowl. “Who is we?” “I’ve rented us a cottage near the beach. Me, you, Calvin, Rick, and Dev.” Louis makes a noncommittal noise but can’t deny his heartbeat racing at the mention of Dev.

17) Medicine | Mature | 4,824 words

Louis attends his favorite artist Harry Styles concert in London. Louis has always had fantasies of what would happen if he ever went to one of Harry's shows, and that's what they've always been. Fantasies. But perhaps a fantasy in particular might come true this night.

18) Trick-Or-Treat: Love Is Sweet | Not Rated | 5,053 words

Grumpy Harry & Sunshine Louis go to a Halloween party dressed as Judy Hobbs & Nick Wilde.

19) Metamorphosys | General Audiences | 5,062 words

Childhood best friends where H went to prison protecting L some years ago. He was recently released and has nowhere to go, so he shows up on Louis' doorstep. But the sweet kid he used to be has completely changed due to his imprisonment.

20) Dripping Down Your Body Like Gold |Explicit | 6,657 words

Omega!Louis is a phone sex operator by night and Alpha!Harry (one of his friends) calls him by chance.

21) Cherries And Honey | Mature| 7,556 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is surprised that he doesn't have any cravings while pregnant and that he doesn't feel overly emotional, but he just doesn't notice. Harry does though. Featuring an emotional, demanding, and happy pregnant Louis who unconsciously sends Harry to make or get his current cravings.

22) Another Load | Explicit | 7,857 words

Louis and Harry are engaged and in a dom/sub relationship for the past two years. Together 4. They recently upgraded their washer and dryer. Today the new washer malfunctioned or Lou put one too many items in the wash and an error appeared. Louis was half laying on top of the washer looking down as music fills their house. Harry ran to the store. When Harry returned finding Louis bent over the washer looking obscene by pretty much doing nothing. he knew he needed to do something about it. 

23) Do You Want To Know A Secret? | Explicit | 8,029 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry and Louis aren’t hiding their relationship, but everyone always thinks they’re joking when they act it/mention it. Hilarity ensues when they try to tell everyone that they really are together with various things happening that keep people from believing them.

24) Soft Hands Organics - Adore Sensitive Skin | Explicit | 8,243 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The Ass Worship fic.

25) A Bite Of Love | Explicit | 8,546 words

It was something that had been on his mind more often than not but this Halloween Louis, a clumsy little witch, would get his vampire boyfriend, Harry, to bite him.

26) Haunted By You (And Only By You) | Mature | 8,597 words

Louise works with Harry's advertising company, attends the company's halloween party and things happen that she never imagined. After that party, there's a small change in her life and she is delighted and in love with it.

27) Anything At All (Worse Than Anyone) | Explicit | 9,083 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The one where they work together and they can't stand each other; Louis doesn't really know why, Harry likes to think he does. But when something unexpected happens at the restaurant, he's forced to admit that he has been wrong all this time— and that he's the only one who's been lying all along between the two of them.

28) It's Cold In Hell ᡣ���� | Not Rated | 9,433 words

Asher was stranded in the middle of nowhere. A truck driver saved his life and the angel with him take it away.

29) Lost In Psychic Dire Straits | Explicit | 10,894 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Through the one way glass, Harry watches as the suspect fidgets, drumming his fingers on top of the table briefly before picking at the skin on his left thumb. A nervous habit, one that makes him prone to shedding DNA all over the place. With any luck forensics will come back with a strong match. “His lawyer or a lawyer?” Harry clarifies. “His lawyer,” Marianne tells him. “Seems like Mr. Tomlinson has spent the better part of the last decade running around trying to convince people he's a psychic. Got enough brains to have an attorney on speed dial, seems like.”

30) Roman Empire | Explicit | 11,111 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

31) I’m A Fire, And I’ll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm | Not Rated | 12,200 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You’re doing the best you can, Harry. I can see that. Dory can too,” he says softly, assuringly. Harry’s breath catches in his throat. He’s needed to hear those words, he hasn’t realized till now. Harry meets his gaze once again. In his eyes, he sees that there was something deep there, something genuine, full of understanding. “Thank you,” his voice thick with emotion, “I’m glad he has you now.” Louis brushes his thumb gently over the back of the alpha’s hand. The gesture is all soft and soothing and it made Harry’s heart flutter with so much want. “You could have me too,” Louis whispers as if it was a secret, as if it was not meant to be heard by anyone. But Harry hears it loud and clear.

32) Me And My Husband | Explicit | 19,061 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Where Harry met someone else, leaving behind everything he once built with Louis.

33) Your Handprints On My Hips | Explicit | 19,834 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When Louis hired someone to paint the exterior of his house, he didn’t expect to be met with a familiar face. Will summer romance be relived or does fate have a way of pulling them apart?

34) You're Not Harry Styles (Or Are You?) | Explicit | 20,116 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Singer Louis Tomlinson finally meets his crush - ex-boybander Harry Styles - on a late night talk show after he recently released a hit single mentioning Harry. They hit it off and fall in love.

35) One, Two Or Three? | Explicit | 21,050 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

It starts with one Louis going on holiday. He spends his well deserved but not welcomed holiday in a resort. He feels a slight embarrassment for having sex with two guys within 48 hours so when he runs in to them, he invents his twin brother to keep things normal (at least in his eyes). Little did he know those men were almost sure he was all alone on this holiday. Both men like him equally and to be honest, he likes them two. Will they end up with just two or with three?

36) Help Me Make It Through The Night | Explicit | 22,828 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Be a dear and get that for me,” Liz says. There’s a glint of something mischievous on her face but Louis ignores it, figuring her cold has slowed her down from worrying about answering the door. He heads to the door and opens it. On the other side is one of the most beautiful men Louis has ever seen. He’s a bit taller than Louis and he has broad shoulders. His legs seem to last for days and Louis can tell that he’s muscular, but with a feminine softness in his form. He has short curly hair and his eyes are the prettiest shade of green Louis has ever encountered before. There’s a smile on his face and dimples on his cheeks and Louis kind of wants to dig his finger in the left one. Just poke it a little. The smile on the man’s face dies when he sees Louis. The following silence is uncomfortable. “Louis Tomlinson,” the man says with distaste in his voice. Louis can’t comprehend why he sounds like that. He’s only just met the man… Oh, wait! No. He knows this man. Or he knew him when he was a boy. The man before him is Harry Styles, the boy he and his mates back in school used to bully relentlessly.

37) Don't Make Me Feel Special | Mature | 26,691 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Its only when Harry is chosen for the Triwizard tournament that Louis realizes that his feelings are returned. Make it abo please.

38) God I Love the English | Explicit | 38,572 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The one where Louis is a singer and Harry is an actor and they enjoy teasing their fans a little too much.

39) Yours To Reign | Explicit | 39,548 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The Princess Protection Program AU.

40) Easier Than Lying | Not Rated | 49,991 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Harry, my dear friend, you don’t want to start a war with Louis Tomlinson, trust me,” Niall seemed serious now, shooting Harry a warning look. He simply rolled his eyes at Niall, “So, what? I’m just supposed to put up with Louis’ incessant need to make me miserable? I don’t think he plans to stop anytime soon.” Talking it out with Louis proved to be futile, so maybe he could give the brat a taste of his own medicine. There was no guarantee that it would work, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

41) Student of the Year | Not Rated | 52,868 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Life is unpredictable and so is the story between Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Featuring fights, prank wars, sweetness, friendship, sex and a healthy dose of a heartbreaking competition.

42) I Am Br(ok)en | Explicit | 53,180 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry is a 28 year old Alpha who just got his heart broken by his long-term boyfriend. What happens when he meets Louis, a 30 year-old omega who is the spitting image of his ex? Sparks fly and hearts get on the line... Will Harry be able to understand his feelings before it's too late and he loses everything?

43) Sharp As Sugar, Sweet As Spice | Explicit | 60,270 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis loves his life. He’s got great friends, endless hookups, everyone loves him, and he’s a top student set to graduate with a medical degree. When he meets Harry by chance one day, he expects it to just be a sneaky blowjob with a hot dad—it ends up being anything but that, well, except for the DILF part, that’s most definitely the case.

44) Forget Me Not | Explicit | 99,608 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

After a life altering car crash steals the last five years of Louis Tomlinson's memory, he returns from the hospital to an unfamiliar life that leaves him feeling inconsequential. An accidental run in with single father, Harry Styles, and his adorable pup, Elliot, make Louis question his desires, his dreams, and his fears. Eventually, he's forced to read between the lines and wonder... Has his forgotten past been that far away all along? Or have the answers been just beyond his reach all this time?

45) If I Cannot Bend Heaven, I’ll Rise Hell | Explicit | 109,110 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

It blooms: In 1807, a boy falls for the wrong monster. It eats: In 1969, omegas began to disappear as rumors of the rising of a cannibalistic cult spread like wildfire. It grins: Now, one of the most powerful vampires of the West sits down for an interview to reveal all his sins. “Exodus 7:14-11:10, right before he sent the plagues, he said to Moses; ‘By this you will know that I am the Lord.’.” The vampire said with the ghost of a smile, small, almost intimate. “How can you annihilate something that you cannot touch, something you cannot see? How can you fight against a hungry God?"

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[unadulteratedkr]

~Let's talk about credit~

(not financial credit trust me you don't want to take financial advice from me lol)

No, today I am inviting y'all to the table to talk about the importance of crediting other creators in fandom!

Because, listen. We don't have a peer-review system. We don't have to submit our stuff to a plagiarism checker or go through stringent editing when shitposting on tumblr; we operate in an honor system of crafting folklore using our favorite blorbos, and that means that inspiration and using the specific words and images from canon creates a grey area on what ought to be credited, and how to do it in a way that creates a solid, strong community.

Here's a little of my philosophy and how I give proper credit where it's due, so I figured I'd share them to hopefully encourage others in making sure no one out there ends up becoming fandom's James Somerton

1. Links are your friends, use them enthusiastically

Drooled over a gifset that made you write a poem? Read a fic that made you pull out your embroidery hoop? Saw some art that made you write a song? Link to the original! Tag the original artist, hyperlink to the giffer, share the fic via the amazing shortcut button on Ao3, it's what those creators deserve! Even if it's a shitpost, that creator is where your idea started, and it's the right thing to do to share directly where your audience can connect with the person who inspired you.

This holds INFINITELY true if you are directly quoting someone. If you've used someone else's words to create your own work, link back to the original. No one wants to be sent a fic or a funny post on tumblr and then feel the sinking pit in their stomach when they realize that post is their own words with someone else's name on them.

2. Ask for permission when you can

Now, the reason I threw the addendum on this with "when you can" is because knowing when to ask for permission is more of an art versus a science. I myself have written more than one fic inspired by art where I didn't reach out to the artist before I shared the fic because I had no contact with them (the joys of me refusing to touch the garbage that is the bird site). BUT this is why point number one is to always link back to the original inspiration, because I believe that should always be the bare minimum.

THAT BEING SAID.

If you have a way of contacting the original fellow fandom person who inspired you? Reach out and ask them if they'd feel comfortable with you creating something! 999 times out of 1000, they're gonna be over the MOON you want to create something inspired by what they made, and they'll be really fucking pleased you reached out to check.

3. Ask yourself: is this a "two cakes" situation or am I putting my name on someone else's cake?

This is another one that can absolutely fall into a bit of a grey area. I have written many a fic that started out with me reading a take or a fic that went in a WILDLY different direction from what I was expecting or wanted, and I went "okay, fuck it. I'll write my own." And that's absolutely been a great motivator for me to start a project!

HOWEVER.

That is me creating a different flavor of cake, putting my own frosting on it, and probably adding something weird like lemon zest and instant coffee for a lemonade cappucino chiffon that shouldn't work (but definitely does, trust me)

If I were to have read a fic or a take and then gone, "Oh, yeah, definintely, here's the same idea but now I've rephrased it juuust a little and now it's under MY username on my blog".... that's slapping a different color of frosting on the same cake and claiming it's mine. If you find yourself doing that, I really invite you to pause and consider why you felt the need to do so instead of sharing the original post.

Like, not to bring Shakespeare into it (they say, poorly concealing their icon), but fandom can be exactly like how Juliet views love. Sharing joy in what others have created absolutely can be as "boundless as the sea [...] the more I give [...], the more I have, for both are infinite". It does not take away from the joy your fellow fandom friends will have in your own original work to share the work of others.

4. Hyping up your inspiration is FUN

Finally, this is more of me going "no really, proper credit isn't going to mean people love YOU less" because I truly believe in the power of how much FUN it really is to give credit where it's due. I was buzzing for WEEKS in anticipation of publishing Objection! and The 'I Duoy' Newlywed Special because the marvelous @jackuntiljune had brainstromed with me on the name for the boat my boys eloped on. And I get so fucking giddy when I see someone comment on those fics about the name of the boat because I get to take a giant breath and go "MY FRIEND JACK CAME UP WITH IT, AREN'T THEY AMAZING?!"

If you practice giving credit where it's due, I promise promise PROMISE it will become a joy. It's FUN getting to bring more people into the sandbox to play, and I know I love it when there's more than one person out there I can yell at (affectionate) when I've been emotionally destroyed (again, affectionate) by a gifset or art or fic <3

Thanks so much for reading this far! I can't wait to keep sharing inspiration with all of you out there

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Pairing: Softish Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn Note: It is/will be mentioned Tav is a draconic sorcerer

Rating: Explicit 18+ [Slow Burn]

Setting: Post End-Game Please note: Written before epilogues were added, so may not be congruent with that content

Warnings [more will be added] - expect mature content/read at your own risk.

Blood drinking. Sexual Themes/Tension. Slow Burn. Eventual Explicit Smut. Pining. Suicidal Thoughts. Biting. Violence.

Small Notes:

I am not well-versed in DnD 5e and it's rules as it pertains to this world, so although I'm going to try and keep it as accurate as possible, some aspects may not align or may be completely made up for story reasons.

Mentioned of in-game content that I've made resolve a certain way for this Tav.

Fabricated camp events.

Tav is named in later chapters (15 +), will have her own backstory, which we may explore eventually.

Details of Tav's appearance have been made up, but I've tried to keep details to a minimum so you can imagine your own Tav.

Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy!

Big thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments/follows/likes/reblogs - it truly does make my day to know you're finding some enjoyment in my story :)

Chapter 1: Lost Between Night and Dawn

Chapter 2: Reunion

Chapter 3: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Chapter 5: Rebellion

Chapter 6: Dancing with Darkness

Chapter 7: Rogue Desire

Chapter 8: Free Fall

Chapter 9: Beneath the Veil

Chapter 10: Soulbound

Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 12: Catharsis

Chapter 13: The Fallacy of Power

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Chapter 16: Riddles

Chapter 17: Unearthed

Chapter 18: Unleashed

Chapter 19: Hark Thy Plea

Chapter 20: I Forgive You

Chapter 21: Preparations

Chapter 22: This is Our Sanctuary

Chapter 23: Way Down We Go

Chapter 24: His Hands Hold My Heart & He Won't Let Go Until It's Scarred

Chapter 25: Darkside

Chapter 26: The Edge of Erasure

Chapter 27: Sin and Shadow

Chapter 28: Blurred Lines

Chapter 29: A Lonely Kind of Love

Chapter 30: A Brand, A Tether

Chapter 31: Ice Meets Fire

Chapter 32: Adrift

Chapter 33: A Breath Between Worlds

Chapter 34: If We Are to Be Lost

AO3 [cross-posted]

If you're interested, I also write a spawn Astarion x Tav fic - Shadows of the Past

I also write a much darker fic for named Durge and AA that I post to A03 exclusively. It's dark, gory, and not about fixing AA but about them becoming an evil power couple if you're interested - Lie to Me

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly has more than one breakthrough, or a couple of them actually, as some things are getting addressed. And Viktor is a cat, all the way through :')

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen + I might or might not have written Chappell Roan into this chapter lol. Reading it back after some time, I think this is still my favourite fic I've written.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Later that week, Viktor found himself in the lab, working intently on a schematic when he overheard a familiar rustling from the couch. He glanced over, catching Renly with her nose buried in the same romance novel she’d been reading the day he found her napping. The image of her in that peaceful moment—the softness of her expression as she drifted into sleep—came back to him, reminding him how much has shifted between them.

He remembered the weight of their last fight—how it had left a rawness he couldn’t shake, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to. Yet somehow, here in this shared quiet, the distance between them felt smaller, as though the edges of that wound had begun to blur. It seemed like the argument had faded into something distant, something they hadn’t properly addressed but no longer weighed as heavily.

Viktor pushed that thought aside as he caught sight of Renly, her lips quirking up slightly in amusement as she glanced up from her book.

"Still on that, I see," Viktor remarked, his voice laced with a teasing tone as he slid his glasses back up his nose. “I would have thought you’d be working on something more... productive.”

Renly looked up at him, an eyebrow arched. “You know, I was starting to think I was the only one who actually read,” she quipped before returning to her book. Her lips twitched again in amusement. “But I suppose when one is as brilliant as you, there’s no time for... distractions.”

“Distractions?” Viktor smirked, pushing himself away from the workbench and moving toward her. “Is that what you’re calling it? I always thought a good book was meant to enlighten one’s mind, not indulge in... fluff.”

Renly’s eyes sparkled as she closed the book, folding her hands over it. “Well, you might be right, but if all that’s in the air around here is Hextech and mechanical precision, I think I’m allowed to indulge once in a while,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides,” she added, with a sigh, “this is really the only place I get romance these days. No matter how hard I try to make sense of it elsewhere, it’s just—not happening.”

Viktor paused, her words catching him off guard. His gaze shifted briefly to the book, then back to her. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a little more measured. He’d expected a joke or a defensive retort, but her quiet sincerity unsettled him.

It had been easy, until now, to bury his lingering discomfort about the fight and the... brace incident. Easy to ignore how it had made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. But Renly’s tone broke through the tension lingering between them, reminding him how unresolved that moment still was. He tried not to think too hard about it.

"And what exactly do you find in these pages that’s missing from your... other pursuits?"

Renly’s eyes softened for a moment as she met his gaze, her tone suddenly less teasing. “I think... sometimes we need reminders that affection isn’t just calculated strategy or cold theory,” she said, her voice quiet. "That there’s still room for things that don’t need to be rationalized."

Viktor blinked, the unexpected weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, he was left speechless, a warmth creeping up his neck as he processed what she was implying. She was talking about him—about them, wasn’t she? The thought unsettled him, but it also felt oddly comforting. It reminded him that, despite their unspoken tensions, something continued to bind them together.

He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “I see. So the book serves as your... emotional outlet, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Renly responded with a shrug, her lips curving into a half-smile. “It’s not like I have time for anything else, you know? Sometimes a girl just needs a little fantasy.”

Viktor’s mind wandered, the quiet flicker of doubt giving way to something far less manageable. Did she see me as part of that fantasy? The question hung in the air, and his gaze lingered on Renly as she looked away, unaware of the way his thoughts had begun to shift. He couldn’t deny that his mind had a tendency to wander into unwanted territories, especially when it came to her.

There were moments when his thoughts would spiral out of his control, moments when her presence, her proximity, became an undeniable temptation.

The seemingly innocuous moment when she adjusted his brace had short-circuited his usual calm. The sensation of her touch lingered with him long after the incident, invading his thoughts when he was alone in the lab, when the hum of machinery filled the silence. It wasn’t the first time someone had touched him, but it was the first time it had felt... different. More real. Her warmth, her softness, had shaken him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Then, there was the tattoo.

Viktor had never been one to delve too deeply into the pasts of others—he had enough of his own darkness to contend with—but that tattoo had piqued his curiosity, even as it stirred something in him that he couldn’t place. He had been so focused on her words during their conversations that he hadn’t noticed the tattoo until it was too late. A swirling design on her side, delicate but bold, a hint of rebellion in the ink that caught the light just right. It wasn’t just the design, though—it was the way her skin had felt beneath his gaze, the way the tattoo seemed to carry its own weight of meaning. His thoughts had lingered there, imagining the path of the ink as it spiralled across her skin, wondering what it would be like to trace those lines with his fingers. It felt intrusive, like something that wasn’t his to touch, but still, the thought had crept in uninvited.

And then, there were moments like this—when her laugh, her teasing remarks, the way she carried herself with such effortless grace, would cause his mind to wander yet again. His fantasies weren’t those of romantic idealism—no, they were something far more raw. Fantasies of touch and connection, fleeting moments where he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to not just be around her, but to be with her, in a way that went beyond the intellectual. Fantasies that he hated having, fantasies that he pushed away every time they surfaced, but that kept coming back. Her touch. Her laughter. Her presence.

He quickly shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts, but they lingered, unbidden. The warmth in her smile, the way she tilted her head when she spoke to him, as if she saw him, truly saw him, and for once, didn’t look away. It haunted him in a way he couldn’t shake. And no matter how hard he tried to focus, no matter how many times he pushed those thoughts back into the recesses of his mind, they always seemed to resurface, much like the quiet ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“Well,” he said finally, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I suppose we all need our... distractions.”

But even as the words left his mouth, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. What exactly had she meant by that? Was she... hinting at something? The thought stayed with him as he watched her, uncertain but curious—wondering if, just maybe, there was more to these moments between them than he had allowed himself to believe.

Renly leaned back on the couch, book still resting idly on her lap, though her focus had shifted entirely. Her eyes wandered to Viktor, who had returned to his workbench. The teasing exchange they'd just had lingered in her mind, replaying in fragments. She tried to analyse it—to find the line where their banter ended, and something deeper began. Did he mean it when he said he’d thought about her emotional outlets? Or was it just another layer of the dry humour he wielded so expertly?

She frowned slightly. Viktor wasn’t someone who flirted lightly. Every word he spoke was intentional, precise—like the movements of his hands now, deftly sketching something onto the schematic in front of him. His posture was hunched but relaxed, one leg tucked under the stool while his cane leaned haphazardly against the table. She was struck, not for the first time, by how at ease he seemed in his element, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the glow of the Hextech crystals.

Her train of thought began to shift, drifting away from the conversation and into something... else. Her gaze lingered on him, not out of curiosity this time but with something more intense. There was a sharpness to Viktor, a deliberate precision to the way he moved, but beneath it, she noticed the softness he tried to hide. His hands, long and deft, moved with practiced confidence, whether gripping a tool or brushing his hair back from his face. She’d seen those hands up close when he’d adjusted a piece of equipment for her last week, and now, she kept thinking about them in a different context—how they might feel against her skin.

Her lips parted slightly at the thought, a warmth creeping into her cheeks, and she shifted on the couch, trying to redirect her focus. But her gaze kept returning to him, drawn to the way the light hit his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the determined set of his mouth.

When did I start noticing these things? she thought to herself, suddenly unnerved by how natural it felt to watch him like this. She hadn’t paid much attention before—at least, not consciously. Viktor was Viktor, the brilliant, razor-sharp mind who seemed untouchable in his focus. And yet, now, all she could see was the stray lock of hair falling across his forehead, the faint flush along his neck when the heat in the lab got to him. The way his eyes narrowed in concentration, glinting gold in the artificial light.

He was... dreamy. Why of course, she had that thought before. A thought she had quickly chased away, back when the distance between them felt like it could wrap around the earth twice over. The realization hit her like a jolt—not in a conventional way, perhaps. There was nothing polished or overly refined about him. But there was something striking, something magnetic, in the way he carried himself, the way his intellect poured into every motion, every decision he made. His presence filled the space effortlessly, as though the room itself bent to accommodate him.

Her gaze trailed lower, taking in the lean lines of his frame. He wasn’t built like someone who spent their days in a lab; there was a wiry strength to him, a quiet power that belied his otherwise bookish demeanour. She recalled the moments when they’d stood closer than they probably should have—how his voice seemed to drop an octave in those moments, how his presence seemed to expand, leaving her breathless.

She quickly tore her gaze away, a flicker of embarrassment rising in her chest. What am I doing? This wasn’t like her, to get so caught up in her thoughts about someone—especially someone like Viktor, who seemed so far removed from such frivolous things. And yet, the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Was he flirting with me earlier? The question looped in her mind. Viktor wasn’t the type to flirt—not overtly, at least—but there had been something in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on her just a second too long. Was it all in her head? Or was there something unspoken lingering between them?

“Do I have ink on me, or something?” Viktor’s voice violently ripped her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“What? No, I—” She blinked, the realization of her own words being used against her washing over her. “Oh, that’s very nice. Is this your way of saying I’ll die by my own sword one day?”

“Well, not necessarily,” Viktor replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I am merely protecting myself from your stare burning a hole in the back of my head. Is there something you want to talk about?” The joke lingered under his smile.

“Actually, Viktor, about earlier—” She paused, trying to measure if her attempt was worth it. Things had been better between them lately, but she didn’t like leaving misunderstandings to fester. She could just apologize for being so harsh with him about Singed.

“Any particular ‘earlier’? Or are we addressing everything that ever happened prior to this stimulating conversation?” Viktor turned on his chair to face her, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Oh, screw you, were the first words that tried to push themselves out of her mouth, but she decided to act like an adult. “I’m sorry about what I said, about Singed. I was quick to judge—I shouldn’t have been. I also have done things that, if I’d had a choice, I would have done differently.”

Viktor steadied himself, resting his hands, fingers entwined, on his knees. “It is fine. I am sorry about my reaction as well. It wasn’t about you; my past is something I revisit with reserve. I appreciate your apology and accept it.” His words came out more formal than he’d intended.

“Alright. I’d better get to doing something productive,” she said with a smile, pushing herself up from the couch.

***

Renly adjusted the focus on the microscope, her movements careful, almost reverent. Beneath the lens, the sample swirled with a faint, eerie shimmer, as if the cure itself carried some cruel sense of beauty. She leaned closer, her breath catching as she watched the tiny particles disintegrate. First, the infected cells broke apart, their jagged edges dissolving into nothingness. But then, the healthy cells followed—a slow, agonizing evaporation that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. Every trial ended the same way: destruction indiscriminately sweeping through, leaving behind nothing but an empty slide and a hollow ache in her chest. But today, it felt different. More personal. She couldn’t shake the thought of Viktor—his cells, his essence—being obliterated under her gaze.

Her hand hovered over the microscope, hesitating to adjust the focus again. The magnified particles seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet they carried the weight of everything she’d been working toward. How many of these trials would she need to run? How many times would she have to watch Viktor evaporate, piece by microscopic piece, before she found something that worked?

A part of her wanted to pull away, to stop looking altogether. But another part of her—the stubborn, determined part—kept her rooted in place. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. Not when he had already placed so much faith in her. Not when the stakes were so high.

The silence was interrupted by the sharp, rattling sound of Viktor’s cough echoing from the adjoining room. Renly froze mid-note, her pen hovering above the page, before she bolted to her feet. Her heart pounded as she rushed to the doorway, finding Viktor leaning heavily on his cane, one hand braced on the edge of his desk, the other clutching his chest.

“Viktor!” she called, her voice tight with urgency. She was at his side in an instant. “What do you need? Water? Medicine?”

He shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. “No… it—” Another violent cough cut him off, and she saw faint specks of blood on his palm when he lowered his hand.

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of anger bubbling beneath the surface—not at him, but at herself. She should’ve been further along by now. This shouldn’t still be happening. “You’re coughing up blood,” she said, her voice quieter but taut with frustration.

He managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well… this is not new. Though I believe…” He paused to draw a shuddering breath. “This may be your… opportunity for that sample you mentioned.”

Renly winced at his attempt to make light of the situation but quickly shook off her hesitation. “Forget the sample for now. You need to sit down.”

She guided him to a chair, her hands firm but careful. Once he was seated, she massaged his chest and back with her fists, wiping the drop of blood from his lip with her thumb. She crouched in front of him, gripping the armrests of the chair as though steadying herself. Viktor leaned back, his face pale and drawn, but the intensity in his golden eyes hadn’t dimmed.

Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against the sharp line of his cheekbone. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“Viktor…” she murmured, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Her thumb traced the curve of his jaw, her touch tentative yet unhurried, as though committing his features to memory. “You know, it’s terribly unfair for you to look this good when you’re giving me so much grief.”

Her words slipped out unfiltered, her focus entirely on him, and they startled a quiet laugh from him—a breathless, disbelieving sound that softened the tension.

“Is that your way of complimenting me?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with dry amusement.

Renly blinked, realizing what she’d said, and a faint blush crept up her neck. Still, she smiled, refusing to pull away. “I’m just stating facts. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass… It’s distracting, really. Hard to stay mad at someone who looks like they stepped out of a portrait.” She tried to deflect how much this scared her, keeping her tone light.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, though a flicker of vulnerability crossed his gaze. “And here I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But not for the reasons you think—not with you. I’m angry because I haven’t solved this yet. Because you’re still suffering, and I—” She stopped herself, her grip on his face tightening for a brief moment before she let her hand fall away. “I hate that this is happening to you.”

He hesitated, his own hand rising as if to catch hers, but it stopped just short. “Renly,” he said quietly, “this is not your fault. You are doing everything you can.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. The movement startled him, and he froze for a moment before his arms came up tentatively to return the embrace.

The hug deepened, his grip tightening as though afraid to let go. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing him in. It wasn’t like her to express herself so openly, and she could feel her pulse racing, but she didn’t care. For once, she let herself feel everything.

For Viktor, the closeness was both grounding and terrifying. He rarely allowed himself such vulnerability, and yet, holding her like this felt like an anchor in the storm of his failing body.

When they finally pulled apart, she caught his gaze and placed her hand on his cheek again, her thumb brushing lightly over his temple. “You’re not weak, Viktor,” she said softly, her voice firm and resolute. “Not in the ways that matter.”

He looked at her, something raw flickering in his eyes, and shook his head faintly. “You are… persistent,” he murmured, his tone laced with reluctant affection.

“And you’re infuriating,” she shot back, her voice breaking into a small laugh.

They lingered like that for a moment, tension between them laced with something unspoken before Viktor cleared his throat and gestured to the bloodied handkerchief. “Shall we get this over with?”

Renly nodded, her resolve hardening once more as she retrieved a sample vial. She worked carefully, silently, though her touch lingered on his hand just a moment too long before she took the sample.

When she was done, she met his gaze again, her voice quiet but steady. “I won’t stop. I’ll figure this out.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, his expression unreadable but softened by the faintest hint of a smile. “I have no doubt of that.”

***

After some tea and a bit of rest, they both returned to their abandoned work. Renly moved to her workstation in the main lab, choosing a spot where she could keep an eye on Viktor. She kept glancing over, watching for any signs of discomfort. Unfortunately, her frequent attention seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“Anyone alive in this tomb?” Jayce’s voice echoed through the silence, cutting through the stillness. “Why are you guys so quiet?”

“Why, hello, Mr. Tallis! And where, pray tell, have you been while we, your humble lab partners, slaved away relentlessly?” Renly responded without missing a beat, her tone teasing. She had already decided not to mention Viktor’s coughing fit; Viktor wouldn’t appreciate the concern being shared.

“Yes, I’m starting to think your contribution to the project will soon be reduced to just a name on the title page, Mr. Medarda,” Viktor quipped, his smirk drawing a hearty laugh from Jayce.

“Alright, alright, I surrender! But for your information, I haven’t been with Mel,” Jayce declared, grinning broadly as if anticipating their scepticism. “I’ve actually secured us some time at the fundraising gala. Got to keep this venture afloat, right?”

Renly let out an impressed whistle, while Viktor responded with a low grunt.

“You okay there?” Jayce asked, his expression softening as he placed a hand on Viktor’s back in a gesture of quiet concern.

“Yes, just a minor… inconvenience. I’ll be fine,” Viktor replied, his voice quieter now. “I’m wrapping up and heading home soon.”

The three of them eventually settled into their own corners of the lab, the scratch of pens filling the silence. Renly, as was her habit when lost in thought, began humming softly under her breath. The melody was lilting, meandering through the air like a breeze stirring dust motes.

Jayce perked up at the sound, his ears catching the tune. “Is that… The Ballad of Barrows Bay?” he asked, glancing up from his notes.

Renly shrugged; her eyes still fixed on her work. “Could be. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, now I am!” Jayce declared with exaggerated enthusiasm. He leaned back in his chair, tapped a beat on the table, and joined in with gusto, his voice deep and theatrical.

Renly’s lips quirked into a grin, and she matched his energy, the two of them harmonizing in the most haphazard way possible. Jayce’s booming voice drowned out Renly’s lighter tones at points, but their laughter wove through the song like a second melody.

At first, Viktor simply sighed, attempting to ignore the impromptu performance. He adjusted a component on his desk and turned his focus back to the schematics, but Renly’s infectious laughter tugged at the corners of his concentration. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the growing irritation gnawing at him.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was the day. The heaviness of it, the vulnerability he’d let slip twice today—more than twice if he counted the look in her eyes when she had brushed his cheek. It all churned inside him, rising with every mismatched note.

Finally, Viktor’s patience snapped.

“I believe this lab was designed for innovation,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through their chorus. “Not… whatever this is.”

Jayce’s hands froze mid-air, and Renly stopped mid-laugh, their gazes swinging to him.

“Alright, grumpy,” Jayce said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll keep it down.”

But Viktor was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “I am done for today,” he announced curtly, his cane striking the ground with more force than usual as he moved toward the door.

“Viktor, wait!” she called out, her voice sharp with surprise and a tinge of frustration. She caught up to him in the hallway, blocking his path.

He stopped, looking at her with a sharp, unreadable expression. “What is it, Renly?” His tone was colder now, clipped, and she could hear the annoyance bubbling beneath it.

Renly crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a frown. “What was that back there?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “It was just a silly song, Viktor. Why did you get so—”

“I don’t like distractions,” he snapped, cutting her off, his words sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “You’re distracting, Renly. That’s all.”

She froze, her brow furrowing as his words hit her harder than she expected. Distracting? She opened her mouth, but for a moment, she couldn’t find the right words. She’d never expected Viktor to be so blunt.

Viktor hesitated, gripping the frame of the door as if to steady himself. His voice softened, but only slightly. “This day has been…” He trailed off, shaking his head before finishing simply, “Too much.”

There was a brief, tense silence, and Renly felt her chest tighten. His words stung a little, she didn’t know why.

“Look, I just—” she started, but Viktor’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, Renly thought he might say something else to push her away.

Instead, his voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I don’t like it when you… make it hard to concentrate.” His eyes were cast down now, his face still tight with frustration. “I don’t like how you make me feel when you’re close.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. Renly stood frozen; her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he meant to say, and yet, he couldn’t take it back now. His chest tightened, and he looked up at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“You are—” he began, but he didn’t finish.

Renly swallowed, her thoughts a jumble as she processed what he’d just confessed. He’d never spoken to her like that before. It wasn’t just about the song; it wasn’t just about her distracting him from work or how difficult this day had been. It was something more.

Her tension melted away, replaced by a deep, almost confused longing. “Viktor,” she said softly, the anger from earlier slipping from her voice. “I didn’t mean to... but I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”

For a long moment, Viktor didn’t speak. The space between them was thick with tension. He took a deep breath, turning away to avoid looking her in the eye.

“Maybe you should go back to work,” he muttered, his voice rough with the emotion he hadn’t meant to show.

Renly froze, her heart sinking at the weariness in his voice.

He left before she could find the words to respond, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Renly stood there for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, before turning back to the lab. Jayce gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off and returned to her station, though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

***

Back at his apartment, Viktor let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his chair. The quiet of his space felt like a balm after the chaos of the day, but his mind refused to quiet. His gaze flickered over the desk in front of him, and his brow furrowed.

His notes.

He’d left them at the lab.

Viktor groaned softly, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to his feet. He couldn’t leave it there overnight; he meant to transcribe the remaining text today. Pulling on his coat, he stepped back into the cold night, the streets empty save for the faint echo of his cane against the cobblestones.

When he returned to the lab, he found Jayce’s coat already gone from its usual spot. Viktor sighed, relieved that Jayce had called it a night. As for Renly, he presumed she had left as well.

Yet as he stepped farther into the room, the faint sound of a melody reached him.

At first, he thought it was his imagination—just an echo of the earlier chaos lingering in his mind. But then he caught it again, softer, drifting through the still air like a whispered confession.

And then he heard her voice.

Renly sat by the microscope, the dim light casting her in shadow. Her elbows rested on the desk; her posture relaxed as if lost in her own little world. Her voice, quiet but hauntingly steady, carried through the room, wrapping around him like a thread pulling him closer.

"Do you picture me like I picture you? Am I in the frame from your point of view?"

She was completely unaware, her attention lost in the song, her eyes closed as if the weight of the words themselves carried her somewhere else.

"Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you.”

Viktor couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The way she sang—so unapologetically open, yet effortlessly composed—felt like a wound he hadn’t known existed, one he didn’t know how to protect himself from.

"Draw the blinds, light every candle. Slip off my pretty dress down my chest when I think of you."

He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. He’d heard her hum, heard her laugh, even sing out of jest. But this? This was a side of her he hadn't seen before.

"Every night, both lips on the mirror. It's ritualistic, counting lipstick stains where you should be.”

Her voice dipped, just slightly, on the words where you should be, and it struck him like a misplaced gear grinding in an otherwise perfect mechanism. There was nothing deliberate in the way she sang—no effort to perform or impress. It was raw. Effortless.

Viktor’s grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched her, as if anchoring himself there might help him weather whatever storm was unravelling inside him.

The song lingered in the air long after the last note faded, and Viktor, still rooted to the spot, finally took a breath.

Renly shifted, oblivious to his presence, and for a long, unbearable second, he stayed frozen in the doorway. He had seen many sides of her—strong, witty, sharp—but this... this side of Renly was a quiet storm. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to weather.

When the silence stretched too long, he turned on his heel, moving quietly toward the door, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He hadn’t meant to overhear, hadn’t planned on intruding on something so... intimate. But now, there was no ignoring it. He had to leave, to breathe again.

Just as he reached the door, Renly's voice floated out behind him, a soft whisper of confusion.

“Viktor?”

He paused for a split second, his back still turned to her, his hand gripping the doorframe.

Her voice came again, hesitant but searching. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, Viktor considered walking away without answering, leaving her to piece together the moment on her own. But something in her tone—the same unguarded sincerity she’d let loose in her song—held him there.

“I... nothing,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Carry on.”

He left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, but the song still lingered in his mind, winding its way through his thoughts long after he’d left the lab.

And though he never turned back, the weight of her voice—the way she sang those words—stayed with him. Something tender, something fragile, had slipped into the cracks of his armour, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sound of it.

The distraction kept Renly from immediately seeing what was in front of her. She stepped away from the microscope and lingered in the corridor for a little while longer after Viktor left. This man is impossible.

She returned to her station, adjusted the focus of the lens, and hesitated. Wait... what? She spoke aloud about her issue with the cure. Jayce, ever the brainstormer, gave her an idea using metaphors.

“What do you do during a war? You don’t just drop a bomb and step in, do you? You target.”

“Hmm… how do I make it target one thing and not the other, though?” Renly thought aloud as Jayce packed up to leave.

“Look for patterns. And then differences. I can help you tomorrow, would you like that?” Jayce offered lightly.

“Definitely,” she responded, her mind already elsewhere. “I’ll sit with it a little longer, you go ahead,” she finally told him, answering the silent question of whether he should wait for her to pack up as well.

“As you wish! But don’t stay too long,” Jayce shot her another beaming smile. “Oh, and Viktor… don’t dwell on it too much. He’ll come around.”

Holy shit. It worked. It actually worked. Jayce was indeed smarter than her. Well, now she couldn’t go anywhere.

Renly stood still for a moment, staring at the cure under the microscope, her thoughts drifting in several directions at once. Viktor's presence, his absence, his words—they all swirled inside her, mixing with the persistent problem at hand. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them today. Something... real. And it unnerved her.

And then there was Jayce, unexpectedly offering the perfect metaphor to crack the problem open, his words like a key to a door she hadn’t known was locked. She felt a small spark of hope as she revisited the idea he’d suggested, trying to see it through a new lens. The cure wasn't finished, but for the first time in days, she felt like she might actually have a breakthrough.

But that didn’t mean she was okay. She hadn’t been okay since she heard Viktor’s voice crack in their damned lab, and she certainly wasn’t okay now.

Her hand hovered over the sample vial, but her gaze lingered on the door, her thoughts circling back to Viktor. She wanted to fix this—him, the cure, everything. She wasn’t sure where her focus should lie: on her work, or on him. Maybe that was the problem. She couldn’t keep putting herself in a position where she was always one step away from making things worse.

The sound of her own heartbeat filled the silence of the lab, and for a moment, she just let herself sit with it, the quiet after Viktor’s departure stretching long.

As she sat down again, pulling the papers closer, a sudden thought hit her. Maybe there wasn’t always a right answer. Maybe she couldn’t save Viktor from himself. But she could keep trying. She would keep trying.

Her hand steadied, the pen in her grip as determined as ever.

The lab felt colder now, even with the warm light overhead. But she didn’t let it bother her. She would stay until she figured this out. After all, she had never been one to back down from a challenge.

She looked at the clock. It was late, and she knew she needed rest, but there was no room for that. Not tonight. Not when Viktor’s words still clung to her thoughts. Not when she could almost hear the weight of his silence at the door. She pushed it aside and leaned into her work.