#yet fanfic writers are supposed to just get over it and keep writing??? what for???

[the-starry-seas]

i'm gonna be honest man with the way comments are right now i don't know if i'm gonna post again after this event fic is up

[knavesflames]

Jealous reader x sub!arlecchino

(Poll result)

Hello I am so back.. again.

Guys genuinely I am SO sick it’s insane. I won’t go into details on this post because it’s a lot and it’s scary but I’ve never been this ill. It’s the fanfic writer curse, I say. To make up for the lack of writing, this one is LONG. Anyway, I truly hope you all enjoy Arlecchino being a sub because I giggled the entire time I wrote it. I wrote about half of it before I got sick again in December, and half of it.. today. Thank you for your service and patience, my dear readers

Word count: 2.9k

Contents: jealous reader, sub arlecchino, strap sucking, strap riding, you know what hell yeah

(I listened to blind eyes red by Minnie, touchin’ me by chandler leighton, pornstar by nessa barrett.. you’re getting where I’m going, yeah?)

Nsft utc!

“I don’t think you quite understand. I don’t like when you talk to other women that way.”

Your voice rings out in the bedroom you and Arlecchino share. Watching as she sheds the blazer of her suit, your jaw feathers at the little smudge of red on her white collar. The faint smell of alcohol wafts into your nostrils and you’re not entirely sure if the smell is coming from you or her, and you don’t think you really care.

“It isn’t like that,” Arlecchino murmurs, a slight hint of irritation breaking through her usual tone. “She was drunk, I was entertaining her. She talked, I listened.”

“You listened? I suppose you were ‘just listening’ when her hands were all over you, then?”

“She touched me, I did not touch her.”

“That makes it fine, then. You didn’t touch her, so it’s fine that she’s marked you with her fucking lipstick!” Arlecchino pauses, one hand on her tie. She isn’t sure if she’s ever seen you this angry before, it causes her eyebrows to furrow, a small frown forming on her face.

“My dearest, please, you must calm down. I am wearing a ring, the ring that shows I am devoted to you and only you—“

“Yet, I watched you entertain that woman the entire evening. Maybe that dessert had an aphrodisiac in, because you were all over her like you hadn’t had sex in months.”

“You and I both know that statement is false.”

“Then stop acting like it is. Do I not fuck you well enough? Do you not fuck me well enough? Is that why you let her put her hands on you?”

Arlecchino almost recoils at the vehement words that spill from your mouth. You have never acted this way, not ever. Of course, she’s used to women fawning over her and trying to get her attention, and you’ve never reacted this way before. With a barely noticeable tilt of her head, she responds, her usually commanding voice slightly softer than usual, filled with thinly veiled annoyance.

“You are very good at what you do, if that’s what you’re wondering. If we’re talking about who does what to who, however, I must make it clear to you that you do not fuck me.”

“I could.” Arlecchino isn’t entirely sure whether that was a challenge or something you were just saying. She stares at you for a second, eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows knit together and the way your lips downturn into an irritated frown. She scoffs bitterly, but she can’t help the slight amusement she feels at the thought of you trying to take control of her the way she so easily controls you. Her hands continue the act of undressing herself, letting herself slip out of the black blazer she saves for events like these.

“Ha. Unfortunately for you, my dear, you aren’t very good at taking control, let alone keep it. I can melt you into nothing but putty with a few words.” For Arlecchino, she knows she’s upset you, and she does feel guilty, but she can’t help the way she feels a small burning in the pit of her stomach at the way you’re so.. demanding. She wonders if you’d actually do it, she decides that you wouldn’t. She decides that part of you just isn’t in you, that you couldn’t, until she hears your voice, irritated, hard, and with absolutely no option to argue against it.

“Take off your belt, Arlecchino,” She freezes, eyes moving towards you once again. You cannot be serious, she thinks, except you are, and she can tell by the way you tap your finger impatiently against your thigh. “Now.”

“What on Teyvat is this?” She murmurs, one hand moving towards the buckle, expertly weaving the leather out of the buckle before pulling on it, letting it fall loose. Looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, she pulls the belt off, the sound of the leather moving through the belt loops. As soon as it rests in her hands, you move, snatching it with a speed she couldn’t have expected. You inspect it for a few seconds, turning it over to feel the material in your hands. You look up at her, jaw clenched before you, with mirrored motions, things you’ve watched her do so many times, create restraints with her belt, tying them firmly around her wrists. You don’t let her speak, your hands move quickly to remove her trousers and whatever else she has on under her waist. She tries to act like the sudden change isn’t affecting her, because it isn’t. Not really. Maybe a little bit. Arlecchino finds herself eagerly stepping out of her clothing, and you don’t miss the way the tall woman almost stumbles.

“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen now,” you breathe quietly, stepping back to look at her. Her hands are retrained in front of her, and she’s bare, save for the loose dress shirt hanging on her body. “I am going to sit on this bed, and wear the strap you so love to use on me, and you, my dear, are going to get fucked. You tell me I cannot do what you do to me, but I think I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“You’re going to— what? You can’t. You never have before. Do you even know how to use it?” Arlecchino seems to be biting back a chuckle, the look in her eyes tells you that she truly doesn’t believe you’re capable of it. But you’re angry enough, she knows that much. “This is ridiculous.”

“Sit.” You demand softly, and like clockwork, she steps back until she finds herself perched on the bed. No biting remark this time, not when she sees the look on your face. Her dark eyes track your movements as you move to That Drawer, hands moving over the harness. Your head turns and you glance at her from over your shoulder. Despite the many masks she wears, you can see the hard determination in her eyes— she doesn’t plan to fold for you. She has no idea that she will anyway.

Your hands fumble slightly as you remove whatever items of clothing you still have on before you start buckling the harness. She chuckles dryly, almost mockingly, as the harness nearly slips from your grip. You meet her with a look so dangerous her chuckle fades out into a sigh, her eyes drifting down to the belt tied around her wrists. She gives an experimental tug, but you’ve tightened it to the point she can’t seem to break free. She wonders if she even wants to, but then remembers that she’s not supposed to enjoy the lack of control. She doesn’t. She likes control, she needs control, and yet..

Her thoughts are interrupted by the feel of weight on the bed, the mattress denting slightly as you sit. Red crosses gazing over you, you watch as they land on the way your hand moves along the length of her strap. It’s an unfamiliar sight, usually she is the one watching the way your eyes widen slightly and the way your chest rises and falls slightly quicker in anticipation. Even with the unfamiliarity, you’ve touched the silicone enough to know your way around it, and just to annoy her, you let out a quiet airy moan when your fingers swipe over the top of it. She scowls, jaw tensing.

“Stop.” Arlecchino mutters, casting an irritated look in your direction as she shifts slightly, adjusting her position on the bed. She swallows, but doesn’t take her eyes off of you or the way your hand moves.

“Why? Are you finally feeling something?”

“Not in the slightest, dear.” The pet name is said with almost a growl, and the edges of your mouth quirk up in a smirk.

“Liar.” You return with equal vigor, standing up once again to stand in front of her. The smirk fades, and what returns is the angry look from earlier. Your voice, once soft, comes out sharp and commanding. “Get on your knees.”

“I will not.”

“Peruere.” Ah. Her eyes flutter at the way you say her name, and her fists clench in the restraints. After a few seconds of debating, her height slowly reduces as she moves from the bed to sink to her knees in front of you. Arlecchino looks up at you, and you swear for a second you see a look of need there before it disappears. A gentle hand of yours brushes her hair from her eyes before cupping her cheek, and on instinct, subconsciously, she leans into it, eyes closing for a second.

“You know what to do, don’t you, baby?” You murmur in a voice that’s suddenly so soft and sweet it makes her double take. She can’t figure you out, she knows you’re purposely switching tones the way she always does with you. She knows you’re aware of the small fire growing in her stomach even though she denies it vehemently. You hold the silicone in your fist, giving it a few experimental pumps (you swear you can feel it) before you tap the tip against her lips, her lipstick almost matching the colour of the material. “Come on, pretty girl.”

Her lips part as her eyes close, and she feels it against her tongue as her mouth closes around it. One hand stays cupping her face, the other moves to grip her hair, caressing her scalp before tugging.

“No, look at me,” you chide gently, your own head threatening to tilt back at the sight of her like this. You wonder if you’re punishing her for her actions still or just enjoying the fact you get to boss her around for once. Probably both. When she doesn’t open her eyes, and instead goes to squeeze them shut even more, your voice comes out slightly colder. “Now, Peruere.”

Reluctantly, they open, just as the strap slides and hits the back of her throat. You gasp quietly at the sight of it disappearing and the way her eyes are threatening to tear up with every movement, words coming out shakily. “Oh, there you go, I told you you could do it, didn’t I? Good girl, Peruere.” You think you hear her moan as her chin begins getting wet, and you wish you weren’t breathing so loud so you were able to hear every little noise that came out of her. You can count on your fingers the amount of times she’s made noise during acts like these, and now she’s on her knees in front of you, looking up at you with glassy eyes and spit covering her chin, moaning at the feel of you thrusting the silicone into her mouth. Your hand leaves her hair and covers your face, feeling the way your cheeks have heated up before you pull away from her, leaving her with an obscene noise that causes her to gasp for breath.

You move back to the bed with trembling legs, sitting so your back is pressed against the headboard. You gesture with a finger for her to come to you and she does without hesitation. Once next to you, she looks at you, both hands coming up to wipe the spit on her chin with whatever she can wipe it with— the skin of her hands or the belt, she doesn’t care, but she decides she won’t be seen as a fucked out mess before she’s even been fucked.

“Go on. If you plan on being a whore at the party, you can be a whore for me at home, yeah?”

“That isn’t—“

“I didn’t tell you to speak. You know what to do, don’t make me say it, it is not in your best interest.”

“Oh.” She hums, trying to act nonchalant like her heart isn’t threatening to beat out of her chest. Either way, she moves, positioning the strap in the right place before taking a soft breath, her arms moving over your head until her bound hands are resting by the back of your neck. You glance down and scoff quietly, your voice nothing but a whisper of condescension and awe.

“You’re dripping, Peruere. I haven’t even done anything, you really ARE a whore, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Answer me. Now.”

“..yes.”

“Good. Continue.” A command, really, not a request. She stares at you, and you stare at her, an unforgiving, unrelenting look in your eyes. Arlecchino’s jaw tenses and feathers before she sinks down, immediately gasping at the stretch she’s not really used to feeling. It takes a while for her to sink down fully, and you say nothing, but the hand that moves to her waist to stroke your thumb gently across the hot, marred skin is reassuring enough, even though you’re angry at her. Once she does bottom out, however, the noise you hear from her is something you didn’t think she was even capable of making. She whined. You blink twice almost in shock before she looks at you, face red as her head shakes gently.

“Don’t.” She mumbles, teeth grazing her lip. She doesn’t move, she knows exactly how she’ll react if she does, and quite frankly, it’s humiliating for her to have been so confident just a little while earlier.

“Move, Peruere, or I’ll move you. I can see that you want to. I can HEAR that you liked it, hm?”

Her jaw drops slightly as your other hand comes to her waist, and she knows the threat of you moving her is real (even if she almost wants it), so she takes it upon herself to control her movements. But she whines again, and can’t help but bury her face into your neck. You let her, for it’s only the first time she’s been like this with you, if at all, and you’ve embarrassed her enough, you think. She’s tentative with her movements at first, almost testing what she can take and what feels like too much. You place kisses on her shoulder, whispering things that turn her even more into a pathetic mess.

“I wonder what the rest of the fatui would say if they knew you were riding me like a pathetic little slut, Peruere,” You whisper, hardly containing the breathless grin you have on your face as she moves, your hands guiding her whenever she loses rhythm. Your words register, and she slows, only to have whatever self control she had snap, and she speeds up, nails digging into your back. You hiss at the pain, but moan when it fades into a dull ache and you hear her whimper into your ear. “If only your god could hear you like this, all fucked and desperate to cum for me.”

“Don’t—“

“You don’t get to tell me what to do when I have the ability to take away the pleasure. Isn’t that what you always say to me?”

“You’re evil.” She gasps out, stifling yet another humiliating whine by biting into your shoulder. You groan, but let her continue when you feel her eyelashes getting wet once more.

“And you’re about to cum while you cry because of me.” You respond with such cockiness she’d snap at you in any other situation, but you’re right, and she knows it. “It really feels that good, huh?”

“Yes.”

It’s all Arlecchino says. She doesn’t think she can say anything else, she’s not even sure if she’s thinking anymore. She’s clenching around the strap and letting out strained noises every time the tip of it nestles itself into the spot that always makes her see stars. You’re making noise too, just the sight of her so undone like this, her dress shirt barely on her body now, only there because you like the way it looks.

“Please, I’m.. please.” She mewls, legs beginning to tremble.

“Words. Use them.”

“Let me cum. Please.”

“Do you think you deserve to after what you did tonight?” You ask, voice piercing through her. She knows the implications and she lets out a soft cry/moan, shaking her head, her hair tickling your shoulder, her forehead pressed onto your collarbone.

“No. I’m sorry, please. I won’t—“ she stops, gasping for breath again. She can feel it, a few more movements, but she knows she needs, or rather, wants, your permission.

“Won’t what?”

“I won’t do it again. I’m yours, always.”

“Good. Then cum, pretty girl.”

Mumbling a string of ‘thank you’s and ‘oh, archons’, she comes undone, her movements frantic before eventually stopping to a halt. She pants into your shoulder before raising her head half a minute later. Both of you are breathless, but her mascara has run, her cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen. At the sight of you, Arlecchino lets out a shaking breath before hiding her face again.

You urge her to put her hands in front of you again, and she does, lifting them off of your neck.

“You did so well.” You untie the belt, letting it fall on the bed beside you both with a small clink. You find the edge of the bedsheet and move it so it covers at least some of her. For someone so ‘ruthless and violent’, she’ll need a lot of love and care after this, you think, even if she’ll grumble while accepting it. The poor woman is exhausted.

[cosmiccrushes]

A Sea Of Crows

Rook x Lucanis || 5.5k words

summary: Lucanis Dellamorte and Rook de Riva meet under the most unusual circumstances. But what's not unusual is the friendship, and eventually more, they find together.

notes: I have half a mind to keep writing this Rook (my og mage Crow Rook) and Lucanis into a longer form fic (maybe a series?) I do have a whole backstory planned for her that I think could be fun to explore but ahhh idk

UPDATE! I am going to keep writing this as a multi chapter fic. It's going to include Lucanis personal quests, main datv plot points I wanna cover, and eventually my named Rook's backstory as an Antivan Crow

also humongous shoutout to @ datvtranscripts on tumblr for their incredible work cataloging datv dialogue, massively helpful for this fanfic writer <3

~~~

CH 1: A Crow Underwater

Lucanis snaps the neck of the last Venatori cultist, letting their body thump to the stone at his feet. Spite’s wings dissipate at his back. 

Someone speaks behind him, voice lilting in an almost playful manner. “I’m guessing you’re the reason we’re here.” 

He turns to the two individuals who are entirely out of place in this underwater prison cell. Their unexpected arrival provided him with just the distraction he needed to burst from the crystal the Venatori had come to him in and dispatch them. He studies the new arrivals through narrowed eyes. One, a dwarf and the other, a Dalish elf, judging by the tattoos feathering around their eyes. 

“Who are you? Who sent you?” His voice is gruff with disuse. A year locked away with nothing but a demon for a conversation companion would do that. 

It's the elf who speaks again. “My name’s Rook. House de Riva. I’m here to bring you home. She’s Harding,” the elf jerks their head towards the dwarf whose hands tighten on her crossbow. 

A fellow Crow? House de Riva. That makes them one of Viago’s. Has his grandmother sent them to retrieve him? The day's surprises continue for Lucanis. “House de Riva. You're a Crow.” 

“Last time I checked.” The elf peers over their shoulder at an ominous groan from the prison’s walls. It appears the sounds of clashing Venatori and demons that Lucanis heard echoing through the Ossuary have resulted in a bit of structural damage. “We need to escape. Then we can talk.” The Crow, Rook, says, bringing their attention back to him. “I’m here to help. I’m breaking you out of here.” 

“Only one of you’s a Crow?” Lucanis is baffled by this situation.  

“And you’re possessed by a demon.” They sound curious, not judgemental, as their eyes trace the empty space around him where Spite's wings had been moments ago. 

“It's complicated.” Lucanis supposes he should get used to people looking at him like he's an abomination. Only, this Rook…doesn't. Their gaze stays open and curious. Their partner's discomfort goes unhidden. But if Rook is alarmed by the presence of a demon-possessed assassin, they don't show it.

“Caterina promised us a mage-killer if we broke you out of here.” Rook says mildly. 

“I can still work.” 

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving.” 

“Rook…” The dwarf looks to the Crow, her mouth pulled taught with wariness. “He's possessed.”

“It's fine, Harding.”

“Rook-” Harding tries again.

“I said I can work.” Lucanis bites out. 

Harding glares at him. “And I’ll listen to whatever she says,” she gestures with her crossbow at Rook. “But I don’t trust him.” The last bit she addresses towards the elf. 

“Understood.” Rook nods. “And we can discuss that later. Right now, I’d really prefer not drowning at the bottom of the sea.”  

“I can’t leave yet. The Venatori have a vial of my blood. I cannot leave it in their hands.” He notes the staff at Rook’s back, marking her as a mage. She will understand better than any the gravity of a mage who owns your blood. 

“Okay.” 

“And I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan.” Lucanis locks eyes with Rook. “You know what that means. Crows don’t break contracts.”

“All right. We'll help,” she agrees easily. “But in return, I want help killing some things.” 

“I’ll owe you.” Lucanis vows, noting the vagueness in her request. But a contract is a contract. Whatever things need killing, Lucanis would oblige. And if Caterina had sent her for a deal, Lucanis would never refuse. 

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over.” She pulls blades from her own belt, tossing them to Lucanis. “Let’s go. So, first order of business?”

“Blood first, then my target. Calivan. The prison warden.” Rook immediately takes the lead as they exit his prison cell. Lucanis follows and this provides him with a chance to study his mysterious Crow rescuer.

She's a wisp of a woman. Lucanis does not mean this derisively- he himself is of small stature and it serves him well as an assassin. But he has entire inches on her. She must make deadly use of that in their line of work. As they slink through the corridors of the Ossuary, Lucanis observes the fluid lightness of her steps and knows he’s right. A target would never hear her coming. Her long, silvery blonde hair falls over her shoulders in two, tightly woven braids.

“Where do we find them? Calivan?” 

“In the tower. There’s a bridge.” 

“Not anymore,” Rook replies and Lucanis wonders just how bad of a state the Ossuary has fallen into. “We’ll have to find another way across.” 

A flurry of motion ahead of them as Venatori mages descend upon them in the chamber outside of his former cell. Lucanis refuses to even harbor thoughts that they will not escape this watery hell. He will not go back to that cell now that he is free, even if he must die instead.  

“Good. Mages. My specialty.” Lucanis is so eager to have a blade back in his hand, to cause pain to the Venatori that Rook and Harding are barely needed in this fight. Spite lends his wings and Lucanis stretches his muscles for the first time in a year. He gets the distinct impression that Rook is deliberately hanging back– whether to study his abilities or to offer him a bit of vengeance, he is unsure. 

Rummaging through the pockets of the slain Venatori, Rook raises a key, her triumphant smile spreading wide. “All right! One of them has a key. Must be my lucky day.” 

Lucanis raises an eyebrow. “You have an odd idea of luck.” He glances pointedly at their surroundings. 

Rook shrugs. “Well, I’m not dead yet. Neither are you. And actually, given the circumstances, that probably makes your luck better than mine.” She winks at him. Lucanis is suddenly very aware that these are the first true conversations he’s had with anyone in months. He’s not quite sure he’s doing it right. Is it possible to forget how to talk to people? 

They move forward through the Ossuary. Lucanis wonders how his grandmother finally found his location and why it was this particular Crow she sent to retrieve him. Not a Crow from House Dellamorte. Not a Crow he had even met before, as far as he could remember. And despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Rook imparted a feeling that she was not easily forgotten.  

“So, the Crows sent a mage to free their mage-killer?” 

“No. They sent their best.”

“Did they?” Lucanis is genuinely curious how things may have changed within the Crows during his absence. Who has risen in the ranks, who has fallen. Had his cousin, Illario, moved closer to First Talon?

Rook raises one eyebrow at him, the other scrunching with what must be amusement as her lips curl up at the edges. “No. They sent who needed you and who came looking at exactly the right time. Although I am good.” She winks at him yet again. Lucanis searches his memory trying to recall what it means when people wink at you.   

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Two blighted elven gods have broken free of their Fade prison and want to blight the whole bloody world. You're the Demon of Vyrantium. You're the mage-killer. Hopefully god-killer is in there somewhere too.”

“Blighted gods?” Lucanis must have heard her wrong.

“Yeah. I know, it's a lot. Just what the elven people need.” There’s a hard edge pressing against her words. “So about your target?”

“Calivan. The warden of the Ossuary. He oversees everything here.” 

“Where do we find him?” The dwarf– Harding– asks. 

“He’ll be in the most fortified part of the Ossuary, but first, we have to find where they’re keeping my blood. I cannot touch Calivan until it’s dealt with.” 

Their conversation is interrupted when they enter a new chamber and a swarm of Venatori pop into existence around them. Even as they fight, Harding keeps one eye trained on him, her distrust evident. Still, she is deadly with her bow– her arrows do not miss. 

And Rook– Rook is an artist, raising her staff like a brush against canvas. She paints death over the Venatori and effortlessly falls into step beside him, no longer holding back. Perhaps Lucanis has grown poetic during his isolation. Or maybe, he is simply moved by the welcome familiarity of fighting alongside another Crow. It has been too long since he had a taste of home. Regardless, it is apparent that Rook wasn't being overly braggadocious about being good. She wields her magic with all of the finesse and grace expected of a Crow.

They proceed. Striking down Venatori as they go. Rook pauses when they move through a chamber that served as a workshop for Zara’s tormented creations. She examines the evidence strewn across tables, a strained expression on her face. “Wait… Were they torturing demons? How? Why?”

“They didn’t all start out as demons. Zara made sure they ended up that way.” Lucanis states bluntly. The blood stains would explain his point well enough.  

“Zara?” Rook hasn’t looked away from the workbenches. 

“Zara Renata. There might be a higher-ranking Venatori somewhere, but I don’t know of one. This place is all her.”

Rook stares solemnly at the tables a moment longer. The stillest Lucanis has seen her yet, like the suddenly smooth surface of a lake that normally ripples with currents. Abruptly, she turns her attention to the Venatori crystals blocking their path. She smashes them, her mouth set in a harsh line, her eyes gleaming with a stony anger. A dam broken, an undulating eddy of motion as she cuts through the Ossuary. 

“Corpses possessed by demons. Watch out.” Harding warns, nodding to the undead shambling up the path ahead. 

“Zara Renata’s work. This place exists just for her to make new, worse kinds of demons.” 

“I think I’d very much like to meet this Zara. Show her some of my work.” Rook watches the undead as they take a diverging path around. Attention snapping away as she states, “Venatori ahead.” 

“Mine.” Lucanis steps up, determined to take his pay in blood today. Rook makes space for him. More blood mages crawl out of their rat holes behind them. “Mierda. These guys. Let me hit him first, then you can take him down.”   

“With pleasure,” Rook hums beside him. They fall into sync again, Lucanis’ pulse racing with the adrenaline of long overdue kills. 

Rook steps over the corpses of the dead Venatori and Harding quickens her pace to walk alongside Rook. “Rook. You sure about this? Abominations…” Harding's tone conveys her feelings on abominations. 

“We made a deal with the Crows to bring him back. And don't forget that it's gods we're up against.” 

“Right. Well, abominations never end well. Just remember I warned you.” 

Rook doesn't respond. Lucanis grits his teeth at the way they discuss him as if he's not here. One thing he can say he knows about Rook now though, is that she will complete her contracts– regardless of what she finds on the other end of it. 

The ground shakes beneath them and a macing creak echoes through the Ossuary, stopping them in their tracks. 

“I don’t like this!” Harding exclaims. 

Rook has her arms held out at her sides, steadying her feet. “Can’t say I’m a fan either.” 

Lucanis watches a stream of water trickle down a wall. “We may not have much time.” 

They reach a chasm where a bridge must have once been. Rook stares frustratedly at the open air they need to cross. “Damn it, there’s no path through here.”  

I. Can make. A path. From the Fade. The demon speaks in Lucanis’ head. 

“What?” Lucanis forgets that speaking out loud will draw attention. 

Let. Me. Pull from the Fade. 

“What are you-” NOW, Spite yells. “Fine.” 

“What is it?” Rook asks, considering him with a softness in her eyes.

“He says he can get us across.” 

“Who is ‘he’?” Rook leans slightly to the side to peer around Lucanis, eyes flicking back to him in question. 

“The demon. He says there’s something here. Something he can grab hold of in the Fade. It’s close.” 

“By all means.” Rook waves her hand and stands aside, looking distinctly unmoved by the fact that Lucanis has just confirmed speaking to a demon inside his head. 

Lucanis allows Spite just enough rein to reach out. He’s shocked when the demon’s magic manifests an entire chunk of stone as a makeshift bridge for them. 

“Wow.” The awe in Rook’s voice mirrors his own. “The demon pulled all of that from the Fade?”

“I’m as surprised as you.” Lucanis tries not to think too much about all the demon could do if left unchecked.

They enter another workshop area where Venatori mages and demons brawl. 

“They’re fighting? But the Venatori made all these monsters, didn’t they?” Harding asks. 

“Blood mages. They never learn. Zara can summon all the demons she wants, but they don’t have to obey her.” 

“And it doesn't look like they plan to,” Rook quips before plunging into the fray. 

The ghost of a smile flutters across Lucanis' lips before he charges after her. 

Rook rolls her head side to side, stretching out her neck after the last blood mage– the Fabricator, Lucanis recalls their moniker– drops to the ground, lifeless. “What did Zara want all these undead for?”

“Nothing. Those are the failures.” So many failures. Lucanis' stomach turns at the innocent life lost within these damp halls. He may not be innocent, but he lost life here too. 

“If those are the failures, what does success look like?” Rook questions. 

“She took the ‘best’ results out a few days ago. But some of the demons she created are still here.” 

“Calivan. You said he’s the one in charge?” Rook pauses her exit from the room to look back at him. 

Lucanis shakes his head. “No. He’s a lackey. He runs this place for a powerful magister. He was my target a year ago. Now we both want him dead.” Again, Lucanis feels compelled not to hide what he is now. It almost feels like he's challenging her. This Rook says she needs him to fight elven gods, says she's here to bring him home. But what home could a demon-possessed assassin hope to have? The fighting he could do, but he would have her clear about what exactly it is she's bringing back to Treviso.

“‘We’” meaning…?” Rook trails off expectantly. 

“Demons don’t forgive.” 

Rook’s eyes roam over him. “Neither do Crows.” She pivots, resuming her quick, sure pace. 

They draw nearer the chamber with Lucanis’ blood vial. “We're getting close.” 

“How are we supposed to find this thing?” Harding asks him. 

“I know it’s here. We can smell it.” The thing lurking within him has heightened his senses. 

Entering into an expansive room, Lucanis identifies that the vial of his blood is locked behind a Venatori crystal ward. He informs Rook. 

“If I never see another Venatori crystal…” Rook says darkly. She immediately begins to wind through the room, smashing crystals with a swipe of her staff. Lucanis gets the impression that she is not a very patient person. He imagines that it has probably earned her reprimand in House de Riva. No Talon would allow actions borne of recklessness, but especially Viago.    

In the center of the room are more tables strewn with corpses. 

“Look at what's left of these people… they were tortured. What a terrible way to die.” Harding shakes her head. 

“Very few people survive Calivan’s ‘rehabilitation.’” 

“You did.” Rook says simply. 

Lucanis peeks at her, but she continues her prowl around the room, hunting for crystals.

Rook smashes the last crystal warding the room. She sweeps out a hand in a grand gesture to Lucanis, bowing slightly at her waist. There is a mischief about her that again has Lucanis' lips twitching on the hint of a smile, such a strange feeling after a year of only horrors.

Lucanis’ eyes lock onto the blood vial at the far end of the chamber. “There. That’s the one. It has to be.”

Rook’s graceful steps lead her to the container. Lucanis joins her. She looks at him, shrugs, then shatters the vial with her magic. “All right then, that’s done. Now for our contract.” Lucanis doesn’t miss the way she says ‘our’ contract. Since she appeared before him, she has been fully committed to assisting him. She hasn’t questioned his motives or monitored him out of the corner of her eye like Harding does. Is she reckless? Or has he simply earned her trust so easily because he is a fellow Crow? And not just any Crow. Lucanis is well aware of the weighty pull associated with the House of the First Talon, House Dellamorte. 

Lucanis guides them through the Ossuary’s halls to its heart– where he believes the warden to keep office. His fingers itch to put a blade through Calivan’s heart. They reach a lift, filing inside. 

Harding again voices her concerns in a low, warning tone. “Rook…” The two must know each other well for Harding need not say more to express her thoughts to Rook.

“It’s us against gods Harding-”

Lucanis doesn’t particularly want to hear what Rook will say next so he interrupts. “I am right here, you know.” 

“It’s fine. We can talk about something else.” Rook shoots a pointed glance at Harding. “What’s Caterina like?”    

Lucanis is surprised by the question, even more surprised that he doesn’t know how to answer it. “After so long in this pit… I barely remember.” 

“You’ve been down here for a year?” Rook cranes her neck to speak to him behind her. Her braids slide against her leathers. 

“Mmm,” Lucanis grunts in response. What else is there to say?

“Is there anything we need to know about Calivan?” Harding asks. 

“You want to hear about his torture methods or something else? We didn’t chat.” 

“He might be turning those torture methods on us very soon, so,” Rook’s shoulders shrug noncommittally. She doesn’t rise to Lucanis’ spiteful bait tossed at Harding, though Harding glowers at him.  

The lift stutters to a halt and they are emptied into a cavernous room. 

A voice echoes across the space as they step fully inside. 

“Ugh, this was entirely unnecessary. Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won't this be ironic?’” The man scoffs. “Hilarious. And now look at the mess you’ve made of my facility. She always leaves me to clean up.” 

“So this is Calivan.” Rook sounds unimpressed. 

“He is.” Lucanis confirms. “The target I was sent for a year ago. A Crow never abandons a contract.” His fingers tighten around his blade, well, Rook’s blade. He looks forward to reuniting with some of his own.  

Rook calls out. “Calivan! We’ll help you with the clean up. I think we’ll start by taking out the trash.” A vicious smile twists her lips and then she strikes.

Lucanis falls into the rhythm of the fight. A dawning awareness crests over him that if he is to continue working with Rook, he may have to get used to racing into battle after her. He might be more disgruntled about it if she didn’t wield herself so masterfully. 

Lucanis ignores the savage jabs Calivan attempts to distract him with. What words could hurt him more than the horror of having a demon possession forced upon him? 

Rook, on the other hand, grows increasingly annoyed with Calivan’s incessant insults– despite none of them being directed at her. Upon realizing the need to destroy the barrier protecting Calivan and beginning their coordinated efforts to do so, the prison warden screams at Lucanis, “You will return to your chains!” 

Rook snarls as she toils to bring down the barrier. “Ma halam! You will return to dust!” 

Calivan’s barrier falls and his enraged shouts summon a flood of demons to the chamber. Rook meets Calivan’s rage blow for blow. And despite Harding’s obvious misgivings about him, she too fights fiercely. When a Pride demon stands before them, they do not falter. 

Calivan’s desperation grows as he weakens and their group gains ground. “No! I will not be defeated!” 

“Sorry! We took a vote-” Rook snaps between swings of her staff. “-decided you die today! I’m sure you understand. Being an arrogant prick and all!” Spite guffaws against his skull and a grim satisfaction grips Lucanis. He’s never been particularly crafty with his words and finds that he relishes Rook’s lashing tongue. 

With a final blast of Rook’s magic and Lucanis’ blade through his chest, Calivan is no more. 

Lucanis releases a long held breath as he stands over his contract. “The Crows send their regards.” 

Rook breathes deeply beside him, tucking her staff at her back. “So, we got your target.” 

“Yes. The job’s done.” Lucanis has waited so long to say that. 

Beside him, Spite inhales. Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet. 

Lucanis grinds his teeth, staring hard at the demonic manifestation. He must not hear Rook attempting to get his attention.  

“Lucanis… Are you all right? Lucanis? What are you looking at?”

When Lucanis finally registers Rook’s question, he turns to her. She is watching him, head tilted inquisitively at an angle. 

Careful. They know. We’re not right.

Lucanis looks back to Spite, then at Rook. “You cannot see him. I wondered.” So, the disturbing likeness of Lucanis that the demon manifested as was only visible to him it seemed. Mierda. Was that a gift or a curse? 

Rook’s head is still tilted at him. Her eyes shift from Lucanis to the vacant air beside him where Spite stands hidden from her sight. But she doesn’t look afraid nor concerned. “We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else.”

Harding nods vigorously. 

“Agreed. I think…it’s time I got some air.” Lucanis feels a nervous thrill run through him at the thought. 

Rook offers him a small smile. “Agreed. A Crow underwater… “ A shiver runs through her. “No thank you. I’m ready to get out of this place.” 

Lucanis returns her smile, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. He cannot recall the last time he used them. “Imagine how I feel.” 

***

The boat glides through the canals of Treviso. Lucanis' heart is in his throat as his city unfolds around him. He had been so close this whole time… He looks back to the rest of the boat's occupants and discovers Rook already watching him.

She smiles, gentle and friendly. “Welcome home.” 

The first warmth Lucanis has felt since being locked in the Ossuary floods through him. Home. 

They climb the steps to the Canatori diamond and he knows from the tense set of Rook's shoulders that he's not alone in sensing something is wrong. Rook glances at him, eyes tight with worry. He gives her a sharp nod. 

Teia’s voice reaches his ears first. “Maker…” 

Lucanis steps into a mess of a room. Broken furniture, strewn papers. Viago notices them first.

“Lucanis?” The Fifth Talon’s eyes flick over him and then to Rook at his side. Viago's clenched fists relax. 

“What happened here?” Lucanis has never seen the Diamond so disheveled. 

Illario slams his fist on a table. “A message. From Zara Renata.” His anger softens as he adds, “I can't believe it. You're home.” 

Lucanis can't reconcile Illario's former words. “Zara… Her people got this close?” 

“The woman who runs the prison?” Rook looks up at him for confirmation. 

“The Venatori witch who captured me.” 

“Revenge for the breakout, maybe?” The skepticism in Rook's tone matches Lucanis' own. How could Zara have moved so quickly? 

“Where's Caterina?” Lucanis searches the faces in the room, but finds his grandmother's missing. His stomach roils with apprehension.  

“She's…” Teia bows her head, her voice thick with emotion.

Viago steps up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulder. “The Venatori got her in the confusion.” 

“I get one of you back, only to lose the other.” Illario sighs.

His grandmother… the mighty, unshakeable First Talon… no, it could not be. 

Rook's tender voice at his elbow grounds him. “Lucanis… I'm so sorry.” 

Lucanis is grateful for her simple words, spoken with earnestness. Her presence also reminds him of Caterina's last request of him. “I need to work.” 

“Are you sure?” Concern squeezes Teia’s eyes. “You should take some time.” 

“I don't need time– I need a target,” Lucanis says harshly. 

His cousin addresses him. “You just got here, and already you want to leave again?” 

Lucanis meets Illario's eyes, willing his brethren to understand. “Caterina gave me a contract. I'm not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that's done… I'll come home.” If his home would still have him, when they learned what he has become.

“I'll return him in one piece.” Rook tells Illario. She sounds as though she wholeheartedly believes it, that she will act as a protector to the, now literal, Demon of Vyrantium. This Crow is a peculiar one. 

“Thank you.” Illario inclines his head towards Rook. Then says to Lucanis, “Cousin, when you find Zara, I want– I need– to be there.” 

Viago interjects. “We’re under attack. Antaam on one side and now Venatori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you-” 

Teia stops him with firm words. “No, Viago. Zara came for us here. She took Caterina from my house. You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. VI and I will hold down the fort.” 

“I'll give her your regards, Teia.” 

Teia lifts her chin. “For Caterina.” A chorus of “for Caterina” sounds around the room. Teia's eyes drop to Rook. “And you be careful. Or this one-” A nod towards Viago. “-will lose his head over revenge, whether he admits it or not.” 

Viago huffs but doesn't deny Teia's words. “Do not make a mess of this contract,” he throws at Rook. 

Rook rolls her eyes at the Fifth Talon. Lucanis’ eyes widen at the sight and he waits for Viago’s reprimand but it never comes. “Yes, Viago.” Rook’s tone borders on disrespectful, but still Viago does not react. Lucanis stares between the Fifth Talon and Rook in confusion. 

Viago scowls at Rook momentarily, then directs his frown at Lucanis. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something to him. Instead he glares at Rook one more time, his mouth clamping shut in a hard line before shaking his head and walking away. Teia smiles at Rook before following Viago.

Lucanis very much wants to ask Rook what vital piece of information he’s missing that allowed her to walk away from that interaction unscathed, but Rook’s already moving away. “Let’s go. It’s time for you to meet everyone else.”   

*** 

Lucanis isn’t sure what to make of the Lighthouse. The eluvians were a fascinating bit of magic and the Crossroads were downright bizarre. There’s a confounding peace about the Lighthouse, but Lucanis does not trust a place borne of the Fade. Spite is far less wary, seemingly comforted by the closeness of the Fade– if a demon could even be comforted.

Lucanis’ introductions to the rest of Rook’s team had been made and he had, predictably, been met with skeptical looks and guarded expressions. Bellara– the Veil Jumper and ancient elven artifact expert– seems the least distrusting of him. Her and Neve– a Shadow Dragon detective from Minrathous– sit at the large dining table behind him discussing his possession. Lucanis leans against the fireplace mantel, staring into the crackling flames. 

“They’re the same thing. Mostly. Kind of.” Bellara is explaining. 

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both.” Neve replies. 

“But how do you get rid of them?” Lucanis attempts to not sound as frustrated as he feels.  

“Um…” Bellara’s hands flutter against the table. Lucanis suspects he already knows the only answer the Veil Jumper will be knowledgeable of. He’d come to the same conclusion himself while locked in the depths of the Ossuary.  

“What’s everyone talking about?” Rook draws his attention– and the demon’s, he notes with interest– as she enters the dining hall. 

“Spite.” Lucanis answers through clenched teeth. 

“The demon in Lucanis.” Neve clarifies. “When a person gets possessed, the demon usually takes control.” 

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just…molds them. However they want.” Bellara adds. 

“I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though.” Spite bristles at Neve’s words. 

“Well, there’s one way. But it’s..well…we’d have to, um…” Bellara stammers nervously. 

“You’d have to kill me.” Lucanis finishes. 

“There’s got to be another way. That can’t be the only solution.” Rook’s hands come to rest on her hips and an unyielding glint sparks in her eye. She looks as if she dares the world to disagree with her declaration. “Can’t we reason with Spite, maybe? Persuade it to leave?” Spite perks up at Rook’s question.

Lucanis gapes at the Crow mage who wants to have a chat with a demon. “Talk doesn’t work on Spite.” As the words leave his lips, Lucanis beholds with horror Spite manifesting beside Rook. He has never had to deal with the reality of Spite around other people and fear freezes him in place. 

Spite leers at Rook, a scathing smile on his face. She won’t hurt you. How sweet. The demon’s derision drips through his sentence like honey, sticking unpleasantly to Lucanis’ skin. 

No. Not sweet, dangerous. Lucanis stares into the determination solidified in Rook’s eyes. Very dangerous. If this partnership is to work, he needs Rook to be willing to stop him. Spite moves to Lucanis’ side and he tears his gaze away from Rook in relief. 

I want to talk to them. Spite demands. Lucanis ignores the demon. 

Bellara goes on. “Before we do, well, that. Let’s think this through some more. There has to be a solution.” 

“I have people in Minrathous I can ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” 

Rook nods at Neve. “All right. So what’s next?” Rook asks the room at large. 

Spite growls in frustration. Let me talk to them! I want. To. Talk. To Rook! Spite lashes out in Lucanis’ mind and his head cracks to the side. He feels blood wet his nose and he grunts in pain. 

“Lucanis!” Bellara exclaims as she and Neve spring out of their seats. 

Lucanis holds up a hand to them. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Rook’s fists are curled at her sides. “Don’t pretend this is all right. It wouldn’t be fine if another person did it.” 

She’s angry for him, Lucanis registers. He softens at this. “No, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If it were another person, I could solve this with a knife.” 

“Why did he do that?” She asks. 

Lucanis will absolutely not tell her that the demon wishes to speak with her. His skin crawls at the familiar way Spite said Rook’s name. The demon has never said anyone's name before, not even Lucanis’. “Throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Perhaps he needs to learn what happens to Crows who throw tantrums,” she threatens. 

Lucanis smiles. “I would prefer not to relive those lessons.” Rook’s closed fists loosen. “Just… give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.” 

Rook’s eyes jump back and forth between his own. “I don’t like leaving you alone with a demon. I…” 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lucanis reassures her, though he’s not sure it’s entirely true. 

“Lucanis..” 

“Please.” He needs to get her– and everyone else– away from Spite until the demon calms down. 

Rook nods and gathers the others to leave.

As the door to the dining hall falls shut behind them, Lucanis addresses Spite. “You’re not speaking to any of them so forget about it.” 

Rook. Wanted to. Talk. To me!

There’s her name again. It grates on Lucanis’ nerves. “Yes. To ask you to leave.” Lucanis spits. 

Spite hisses, but falls silent. Lucanis closes his eyes, the fire in the hearth warming his eyelids. It’s true. Rook had thought to reason with a demon on his behalf. Lucanis sighs, peeling his weary eyes open. He heads towards a door at the back of the dining hall, opening it to find a long, narrow pantry. Oddly, a cot is already tucked into the far corner. Lucanis sinks onto it, letting his head rest against the stone wall at his back.

Rook will have questions for him eventually. But for now, he soaks in the fact that she respected his request, that she trusted him enough to leave him alone. He mulls over his own questions of what that could mean for a man who has truly become a demon.  

~~~

Next → CH 2: Questions & Coffee

[iamnmbr3]

Cursed Child rant? as a treat? 👉👈

Oh god. Where to even start. Listen, I know some people enjoy CC and I say more power to you. I'm not here to be the fun police and say what people can and can't like or write fic about or derive meaning from or whatever. But for me, personally, Cursed Child is an absolute mess of the worst kind that irritates me on a profound level.

First off, it's completely inconsistent with the canon characterizations and established rules of world building (and JKR didn't even do that much world building so there wasn't that much to keep track of and yet, they couldn't even bother to do that). I mean, Cedric, who tried to give the Triwizard Cup to Harry doesn't win and that somehow causes him to become a Death Eater??? Huh? It's not just ooc. It's bad storytelling. I mean, even if he was a hugely sore loser why would losing a tournament cause him to join an extremist blood purist paramilitary group? That has nothing to do with him losing. It's stupid and childish and nonsensical and SO bad.

And really? That's the best you can come up with? If the point of that whole thing was the tired trope of 'time travel goes wrong and makes things worse' they could've just had the gang expose Crouch earlier but instead of Voldemort not returning he just ends up returning but not using Harry's blood which allows him to do his original plan of growing his power in secret. And idk. Maybe then he takes over and he kills Harry and Harry doesn't come back. I didn't even put any effort into that. It's a bit dumb and inelegant but it gets the job done without wild character assassination and a lack of logic so profound it would insult the reasoning abilities of a fungus.

But ok, let's judge it as its own vaguely Harry Potter inspired thing rather than as an actual sequel to the canon series. You know what the result is? IT'S STILL BAD. It's just. SO BAD. I don't understand how it's a real thing.

It's like a parody of a bad play. It can't possibly be real. Harry suddenly has a phobia of pigeons? Why??? It's so...stupid. And I'm supposed to take that seriously? What? And the dialogue. The dialogue. "Bad" doesn't even cover it. The fact that "Wow. Squeak. My geekness is a-quivering" is a real actual line in the actual play causes me physical pain. WHO WRITES THAT?! AND THEN LEAVES IT IN THE FINAL DRAFT?!?!?

And Delphi. WHAT EVEN?! She's literally like a parody of a bad fanfic Mary Sue. Down to the blue streak in her hair. But we're supposed to take her seriously? As a villain? Tf? She's like a bad Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way knockoff. The whole play is like an unfunny parody of bad writing. But it's not supposed to be. It actually pretends to be a genuine drama. Which is so much worse. I truly think My Immortal is better. And way funnier.

No effort at all went into the story construction. Characters act incredibly childishly and unrealistically and simplistically. The story doesn't feel like it was written by adults. There's no feeling or depth or emotion. It's all plot contrivances and nauseatingly simplistic writing. It isn't a story. It's just some stuff that happens. Because the writers were just like 'eh it's Harry Potter it'll sell.' And that's not art. That's just churned out content. And it bothers me on such a profound level that they did it and got away with it.

I would be embarrassed to write that for myself, let alone to turn that in as a professional writer. It's so inconsistent with the original story that I legitimately think the 2 guys who wrote it didn't even read the books. They just glanced at the wiki and decided they were good to go. Despite being PAID to do this. How sloppy is that? Not to mention Harry Potter meant so much to so many people who were ecstatic to get more content yet the two clowns who wrote this just skimmed the wiki and then vomited out some of the worst lines ever penned in history and called it a day.

[quite-right-too]

Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) - Chapter One

Summary: After preparing for the arrival of her new housemates, the last thing Rose expected was for one of them to be the man whose flat she had snuck out of the night before.

Thank you to @demdifferentstories-29 for being a seriously amazing beta and helping me, the research proposal writer, get back into writing fanfics. If you haven't checked out her fics yet, please do. They're some of my favorites!

Read here on AO3

Naked.

That was the first thing Rose Tyler noticed when she woke up. 

The bed she was in was not her own, and she was naked. 

Blearily sitting up, she noticed it wasn’t much of a bed, really — it was a mattress on the floor. 

She really had shagged a guy who slept on a mattress on the floor. 

At least it had a sheet on it, she mused pathetically. As Rose looked around, however, she noticed the cardboard boxes littering the room. All of the walls were bare, save for the blinds over the single window letting in the sliver of soft morning light that was illuminating the room. The hardwood floors and white walls were a stark contrast to what she would have expected from someone with so many bloody boxes. The bareness was disorienting. 

He must have just moved into his flat, then. But it didn’t matter, though. 

She looked over to her right and there was a bloke, seemingly also naked, fast asleep next to her. Brown, messy hair donned his head, his expression peaceful. Rose could barely make out the constellations of freckles on his face. Based on his upper body, he was definitely fit – the light smattering of hair on his chest and sleek musculature easily got her attention. His light snores cut through that awkward silence of waking up in a random man’s bed.

She remembered the strobe lights giving her glimpses of the crowd in the otherwise darkened bar, the bass drowning out all other sounds besides her heartbeat in her ears. Dancing in the crowd. Laughing while she walked up to the bar and procured another cocktail — of which the name of she wasn’t sure. Getting several drinks in and seeing this absolutely gorgeous man. This man who had been looking at her with such confidence and desire. Eyes impossibly dark, looking at her like there was nobody else in the room. Dancing with him as his hands roamed, becoming more comfortable with each other. Drunken kisses turning into fumbling into his flat. 

Which turned into some pretty amazing sex. There was something about him, some kind of pull drawing her closer, though she couldn’t be sure of what. Maybe it was just the alcohol that had coursed through her body the night before.

Quietly standing up, she made her way around the room to silently collect her clothes and put them on one by one. Her pair of knickers, however, were nowhere to be found. She barely was able to keep her balance while trying to get her jeans on. Her mobile was still in her pocket. ‘6 missed calls from Jack’ the phone screen showed. Checking the time, her stomach flipped. 

4:53 AM. It was 4:53 in the morning and she had spent most of the night at this stranger’s flat.

Rose rushed to yank on her trainers, frantically checking for her bag and making sure all her belongings were still in it. After a moment of panic, she quietly and slowly opened the door to his bedroom, wincing as it creaked. The man, however, did not stir from his slumber. As she gently closed the door, save for a crack, she surveyed the layout of his flat. It wasn’t very large, probably about the size of the one she had shared with her mum. More bare walls and nearly a dozen cardboard boxes were in what was supposed to be the living room. The floors were quiet as she carefully walked through the hallway, eventually reaching the front door. It was quieter than the first, allowing a seamless transition from the dark flat to the outside world.

It was 5 AM at this point, the city coming back to life. It didn’t take long for a Lyft to arrive. As she sat in the back of the white sedan, Rose was thankful for the silent driver who had quiet, peaceful music playing. The sun had already begun to rise once they made their way out of the main city. The twenty minute ride felt like an eternity and Rose was thankful when the driver finally pulled up to the front of her house. The lights were still off, indicating there was nobody awake.

Her house was more posh than anywhere Rose had ever lived before. She grew up on the estates and could have never imagined living in a house, especially one where she had a large enough bedroom and her own en suite to feel like an actual adult. There was a garden, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full kitchen, a properly sized living room, a formal dining room, and even a small library. It was stunning and definitely out of her wildest dreams — there was no way she would be able to afford living in a house like this if she was on her own.

Her flatmate, Jack, had recently inherited it from his grandfather. They had met during a drenching storm, in which he offered to give her a lift back to the flat she had shared with her mate Shareen. After keeping his number, she confided in him regarding her numerous failed attempts to find a new flat after some particularly nasty fights concerning her shared living situation. As one would have it, Jack was also looking for a new place to live and suggested that they share a flat, strictly as friends. It was just as platonic as he said, and their relationship blossomed from there. They were practically family, even having the typical rows you would see in sibling pairs. Once Jack’s grandfather had passed and he had gotten the deed to the house, Jack practically begged for her to live with him in it. She accepted enthusiastically.

However, it was definitely an adjustment. Rose had never lived in a house quite this large before, having two whole stories in it. They had only been there for two months even though it seemed like less after spending most of it decorating, acquiring furniture, and painting the walls to make it seem less like an old man lived there. Her room actually felt comfortable and grown up opposed to her vibrantly pink room at her mum’s. The walls were a soft light grey which gave the impression of a room much larger than it actually was. The soft pink duvet on her bed provided a nice pop of colour to the whole thing while the frame and sheets accentuated it with a simple white. Artwork lined the walls, all holding the same signature in the bottom right corner. Her signature.

Wearily unlocking the door, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding since she woke up. She was now home, where she could lay in her own bed alone. Rose still had to get used to manoeuvring in the dark, narrowly avoiding bumping into various pieces of furniture that had recently been rearranged. The walk of shame up the stairs would have been far more embarrassing had Jack been actually awake. But thankfully, she still had about three hours before his alarm was meant to go off.

She quickly made her way up the stairs, her room at the end of the hall feeling more and more enticing. The door closed silently, finally giving Rose the chance to strip her clothes off. Rose admired the skimpy, strapless pink top she had worn. 

‘Was this what made this man approach me?’ she wondered. 

She so desperately wanted to feel the hot water cleansing her skin from the dirty one-off shag she had. Never had Rose been so thankful that Jack gave her the master bedroom — not worrying about anyone needing to use her bathroom was a nice, peaceful feeling. 

As she turned the water on, multiple thoughts began to plague Rose’s mind. 

Did they use a condom? 

Was he clean? 

Was this whole thing a huge mistake? 

The mirror steaming up pulled her out of her spiral. Mentally, she made a note to go get tested as soon as possible.

The scalding water on her skin was much needed. She felt the night washing off, the bath sponge scrubbing away his tender touches and dirty words; the feelings of hot, sweaty sex full of lust. She remembered more and more while she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair — the fire in his eyes, the way his teeth felt on her neck. Her fingers gripping his hair as he— 

Oh.

Rose’s breath hitched as her full memory of that night flashed through her mind at lightspeed, and she realised that it was the best shag of her life. She stood dumbfounded under the spray for a minute as she desperately tried to recall his name. Not once did they exchange names during the entire night. 

She quickly finished her shower, turning off the water and stepping out with a towel wrapped around her. 

It was a one-off, she reminded herself, albeit a little disappointed at the thought. You’re never going to see him again. 

She threw her pyjamas on and crawled into bed. The fatigue from the night before had begun to set in. Her body felt so heavy and her head throbbed lightly — the result of a mixture of alcohol and exhaustion. She hadn’t even realised she had fallen asleep until the familiar pounding on the door pulled her out of her – quite unrestful – sleep.

“Wake up, Rosie!” Jack called through the door. “I need your help prepping the house for the guests!” 

Oh — that was today.

It was bloody Saturday. Of course it was Saturday — the day Jack’s friends were supposed to be coming to move in. The house was just a little bit too big for the two of them, so Jack had invited some of his old travel friends to come live with them. After a lot of ‘Come on, Rosie, you’ll love them’ and ‘It’ll be nice to have some extra hands around here’, Rose eventually caved and told him that maybe she wouldn’t mind the extra company. Her only worry is that she knew almost nothing about them. She knew their names were James and Donna, they were siblings, and that they live in central London. Well, they lived in central London.

“Well, I thought you would never wake up,” Jack laughed as she sluggishly drifted into the kitchen. The distinct smell of coffee emanated through the room as Rose finally began actually waking up, taking a seat at the table. As he turned his head to look at her, she could see the smirk on his face. “Have too good of a time last night?” God, sometimes she wanted to punch him in his stupid American face. Even when he sat a cuppa down right in front of her with a splash of milk, just how she liked it.

“Maybe I did,” she sighed. “Don’t look at me like that.” He waggled his eyebrows, grinning at her as he chuckled lightly. “You’ve shown up plenty of times after a quick shag in the middle of the night.” Rose picked up the cup, sipping her tea as she eyed him.

Rolling his eyes, Jack grabbed his own coffee mug and sat down at the table with her. “Yeah, but Rose Tyler doesn’t do one night stands.” He was right and she knew it. It was very out of character for her to just have a meaningless fuck and sneak back into the house like she was a teenager. Changing the subject, he continued. “Are you ready to help with the move-in?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rose groaned. It was going to be a long morning.

She had been counting down the minutes as they felt like hours, exhaustion creeping in. The day felt like it was never going to end. The doorbell rang as Rose finished up with tidying up the bathroom upstairs, not including her own. The door opened and she could faintly hear Jack greeting his friends, encouraging them to come inside. She began making her way down the hallway and to the staircase, all with the intention of warmly welcoming her new housemates.

“I’m so glad this worked out,” Jack laughed. “I’ve missed you guys.” He saw Rose coming down the staircase out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, Rosie! Come here! These are our esteemed guests,” he enunciated, giving a little wink. Her footsteps quickened as she descended. Rose looked up from her hands and wiped them off on her pants as she approached them.

“Hi, I’m Donna.” The ginger woman in front of her turned to Rose, greeting her after giving Jack a quick hug. “Thank you for letting my brother and I stay with you. It’s nice to finally be out of the city for once.” Her smile was warm and she had this aura of kindness around her. Rose was happy that Jack’s friends at least seemed normal.

“I’m Rose. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

As she turned to greet the man in front of her, she froze. That messy brown hair and constellation of freckles that Rose had tried to trace in the dim light of the morning. His eyes were this deep brown, and the glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose framed his face gorgeously. Her stomach flipped as their eyes met. It was like a string had been pulled so taut between them that it would snap at any moment. 

It was him — the bloke whose flat she snuck out of after the best sex of her life. And here he was, standing in front of her, a matching look of shock adorned his features as he had the same realisation. And she didn’t even know his name.

“Hi, uh—” he stammered, stiffly offering her an outstretched hand. “I’m James. James Noble. It’s, er, nice to meet you.” He swallowed thickly, waiting for a response. Rose blinked the flabbergasted look off her face, taking a deep breath and accepting his hand to awkwardly shake it.

“Likewise.” What did she just get herself into?

[cecilysass]

20 Questions for 20 Writers

tagged by @baronessblixen and @randomfoggytiger

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 24

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 364,789

3. What fandoms do you write for? Only X-Files, although sometimes I have thoughts.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Chicken Dinner, Pause, The Kaleidoscope, The Boy on the Beach, The Marriage Spectacular

5. Do you respond to comments? Not every time. I do in bursts. I feel guilty if I respond to some and not others, so sometimes I just respond to none, especially if it's a long story and I'm posting chapters everyday. I wish it were otherwise, because I sincerely do like engaging with comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I've answered this question before, and I think I decided it was either (1) Opposition and Synthesis, which is a post-Requiem fic that no one has read, written between season 7 and 8, on Gossamer or (2) Ice Water, which was a fic I wrote for an exchange, also beginning of season 8, which is on AO3. Both of them have the same source of angst, which is the season 8 overall angst: missing Mulder.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have happy endings. I do try not to sew things up too tightly--I prefer to keep it a little open-ended, with the possibility that things could still be complicated, because I guess that feels more real to me. And more in universe, I suppose.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not very often. Sometimes. There was someone recently on a fic who went on a rant about me hating Mulder, but it mostly made me laugh. (Y'all. Let me assure you. This girl does not hate Mulder. She is a ridiculous Mulder champion.) I haven't been that upset by hate on my fics. I've been more upset by seeing hate on other people's.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have. It's always a struggle for me, possibly because I'm not a super visually oriented person. I have betas who help me with this a lot, and I'm grateful to them. I do tend to want smut to feel organic to the story; I don't like when it feels tacked on. (Although listen, I don't judge anyone who wants that either; fanfic is for fun lol.)

10. Do you write crossovers? No.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone asked me if they could translate one of my fics to Russian once. I assume that happened.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet, but mulling that over with some co-authors now.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Mulder and Scully. Sometimes I admit I will also read some Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have many WIPs. Maybe 8-10. I don't post WIPs any more because that experience is too stressful for me; I prefer to wait until the whole thing is done and post then.

16. What are your writing strengths? I revise and rewrite a lot. Dialogue. I used to think I was bad at plotting, but I'm getting better.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I get certain phrases and words in my head and keep reusing them without thinking about it. Then my beta makes fun of me for saying "scowl" 150 times in one chapter. Also, I struggle with visualizing a space and how characters are moving in it. My betas are always like: "What side of the table is he sitting on?" "Where is her leg?" "Is she on the side of the couch with the fish tank or no?" I don't think of these things very well naturally.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? All of my fic is in English, my first and best (by far) language. I would never write in another language unless I had a native speaker willing to help me with this. I included a few lines of Spanish in one fic, but I double and triple checked that. (And it was almost nothing! )

19. First fandom you wrote for? X-Files, unless you count things I wrote as a kid about books.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is hard, but I do love Boy on the Beach, which I researched quite a bit and very carefully plotted out. I also like We're Not Here To Talk About Personal Problems, which was the first fic I wrote for an exchange, an X-Cops post-ep, and really felt like me getting back into new fic.

Randomfoggytiger's additional questions:

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

A hobby, but also kind of a way of life, as it's tangential to how I make money, and it's always something I've done regularly.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Is this what I prefer? Clean, completed manuscript then. I don't like paper journals at all, so while I do have notes, they're only in Google Docs.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

I don't have a specific event, person, or work of art. I will say I think I am influenced by having had some training writing for the stage. I often write dialogue first and then fill in everything else around it. And I think about plays I've read or seen a lot when I write.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

First draft. I revise a lot. And I'm an amazing singer, or at least I am so far as you know.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

I feel like I should say yes, but no, not that I can remember specifically.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

364,789 - Am I satisfied? I don't know. Do I win something at a particular number? Assuming no, the number doesn't really matter to me. I would be sad if I never posted anything again though, because I enjoy it.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably? I really loved From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler when I was a kid.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it? I've received such generous feedback on my fic of every kind, and honestly I could never hope to say which kind was the best. I'm grateful for that. I will say that someone told me on Pause that my D.C. geography was spot on, and I was really thrilled about that, since I spent quite a bit of time "driving" from Georgetown to Alexandria on Google Maps / Street View to see what it would be like.

10. What defines your writing style?

Dialogue. Angst. I don't know. What else? It's hard for me to see!

Tagging: @phillippadgettwrites @atths--twice

[tiarathief]

knight squad: if we had a 4 season run

i’ve been thinking a lot of thoughts about how amazing knight squad would have been with a proper four season run. i don’t think i would ever have the energy to write a full fanfic, but it’s been five years since the show’s conclusion, so i wanted to share some of my ideas. here’s a 2k outline on how i think the plot could have gone:

season 1

season 1 is already pretty god-tier in my opinion, so i wouldn’t change much! i think they covered a lot in terms of character and relationship development, and did a great job building an interesting plot that tied back in the finale.

one of the things i would change though is the whole presentation of ciara/princess, and how it’s done through her hair. i’ve seen some discussion about it floating around before, so some of y’all probably know where i’m getting at with this. i don’t know if it was intentional, but the implications of her straightened/relaxed hair being part of what makes her elegant is really questionable  to me and i do find it racist. i do like her loose curls for ciara because being ciara is when she gets to let loose and be who she really is. but for the princess, i think they really could have done another style like braids, or have her hair tied up in a bun to represent how she is holding herself back, or have her hair wrapped. i also think they could have incorporated other ways to show the difference between the princess and ciara that don’t rely on hair – facial markings/face paint for the royal family, or the princess covers her face with a face veil.

also just. give her a name!!! for the fanfic writers if not for anyone else. i know it’s a kid’s show and they probably didn’t want to make it too confusing or something, but also kids are not that dumb.

in terms of character, in the show, arc adapts to being part of a team really well. personally, i would have drawn that out, and had a plot where arc needs to get used to being on a team after being a lone wolf for so long and learning how to trust the others to have his back. i think the writers almost went in that direction, because in the pilot when the phoenix squad is assigned to fight the stone knight, arc tells them to step back and says he has it, and ciara says “but we’re supposed to be a team!” but he ignores her. and it works out okay that time, but i expected it to come back later and it was just dropped. so this is something i would have developed over the course of the season, and then everyone coming together to save him from ryker in the season finale being the culmination of him realizing he has people to watch his back now and he isn’t alone.

season 2

okay so you know how i kept most of season 1? yeah we’re doing the opposite for season 2. we’re throwing pretty much all of it out. yEET. prudy and warwick are not going to find out right at the beginning of the season, we’re not getting the ciara and sage relationship development quite yet, no one is getting knighted, and there’s no weird superhero episode with trolls that are   antisemitic caricatures.

however, there will be more plots centered around prudy and warwick. we get to see more of prudy’s giant background, and warwick struggling to live up to his family name and what being a magical wizard means. so there are episodes like the election episode and the one with warwick’s dad.

at the same time, we get more of the relationships in the phoenix squad, and arc and ciara will also start to realize how hard it is keeping their secrets from their best friends. they have some really close calls when it comes to balancing their secrets with their friendships.

arc and ciara also start having some romantic development in the latter half of the season, but it happens subtly. like people thinking they’re a couple leading to awkward denial, seeing the other dressed up for an event and having that “whoa” moment, being unusually jealous or protective, etc.

okay i really want an episode where there’s just a shit ton of miscommunication and the princess accidentally agrees to a date with warwick and he’s over the moon but ciara is panicking because she can’t break his heart while arc’s pretending he isn’t jealous

A TRUTH SPELL EPISODE. sort of combining both of the two big threads this season. arc gets hit by a truth spell by accident and they have to wait for it to wear off and it leads to all sort of chaos as arc and ciara try to make sure their secrets don’t get out so ciara is just covering his mouth and trying to make excuses. and then, at the end of the episode, he’s alone with prudy and warwick who have caught on that arc does have a secret and they’re grilling him, and he blurts out that he has feelings for ciara, which even he didn’t realize until he said it. the spell finally wears off and prudy and warwick are shocked enough to let him go, and he runs off only to bump into ciara (who had been called away for a princess-related thing), and she’s apologizing to him for having to leave him alone and asks if he revealed anything important to anyone, and he’s just like “....no.”

midway through the season, we also begin building up to the next overarching plot. it might be interesting to focus a bit on astorian court politics, which leads to the reveal of an internal conspiracy to take down dragonbloods and take over the throne. (note: the leader of this conspiracy was the one behind ciara’s mother being taken away.) sort of leads to the realization of how messed up it is that only dragonbloods have power in astoria. the season finale has them facing off against this antagonist, and they win, but the antagonist runs away.

warwick and prudy find out about arc and ciara’s secrets at the end of the season!

also sage and buttercup are canon. because this is my plot outline and i say so.

season 3

this season begins with warwick and prudy learning what it means to be secret keepers, even though they’re struggling a bit. arc and ciara and understandably frustrated, but when it matters, warwick and prudy do come through, and they get better about it over time.

warwick and prudy are also trying to figure out their roles on the team, especially as they feel like they’re the weaker links. 

meanwhile, ciara is stepping into her role as the princess and trying to force actual change regarding the dragonblood laws in astoria, having learned from the events of last season.

arc is supporting her, but he’s also starting to feel a bit homesick. we get at least a couple episodes centered around seagate when phoenix squad takes a trip to his hometown which is in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of ryker. they get caught up in a pirate plot!

they also discover that ryker’s army hasn’t entirely been dissolved, and some of them still hope to bring ryker back. 

arc and ciara starting to have some legit romantic development as they realize their feelings. throw in a fake dating episode because it would be cute. they also kiss at least once during this development period - for quest purposes of course, and it’s “completely platonic” (it isn’t, both feel things). both of them are too scared of ruining their relationship as friends to pursue more though, and they’re worried about how it would affect their team.

prudy and warwick do not think their squad will be affected and are very much rooting for this!!!

ciara also starts becoming friends with sage (although they would never admit it)! bonding as the princess, and respecting her more as a classmate. phoenix squad and kraken squad work together more often.

despite their attempts to prevent it, last season’s antagonist returns and helps bring ryker back. the villains team up, vowing to not just take over astoria, but destroy it. 

the season ends with astoria learning about the danger of ryker coming back and needing more knights, so phoenix squad, kraken squad, and unicorn squad are all knighted. ciara passes her laws against dragonbloods being the only ones allowed to be knights, and their secrets come out to the kingdom.

arc and ciara’s relationship development also reaches the natural conclusion and they officially become a couple after a scare during the final battle where they realize they could have lost each other.

season 4

season four shifts a bit in vibes because all the secrets are out and everyone has officially been knighted, so ideally we would have gotten some fancier new set locations

phoenix squad and kraken squad are officially knighted, but that doesn’t prevent their rivalry. however, this leads to issues, and they quickly realize they’re no longer in training and they genuinely need to have each other’s backs.

arc and ciara are also adjusting to working together while dating. they’re both really protective and keep trying to look out for each other on the battlefield, and it leads to some slip ups at first because they feel like they’re out of sync and maybe they worked better as friends. but they ultimately realize they help make each other better, and fighting together becomes even better because they’ll always have each other’s backs

we bring in the plot with ciara’s mom - eliza comes back with evidence that their mother is still alive and out there. phoenix squad follows up on the lead, and eventually they find her mother and bring her home. however, their mother doesn’t remember anything which is why she never came back even after she escaped her confinement, so they have to find a way to bring her memories back.

but is everything as it seems? ciara is unsure her mother is the same woman she remembers. she catches her mother sneaking out, and she worries that her mother has turned traitor. but it’s revealed that her mother is actually protecting a secret - a dragon egg, for the last dragon in astoria.

pet dragon for the squad!!! it imprints the most on ciara and sage, and they grudgingly co-parent. arc and buttercup are definitely not jealous of their partners spending so much time together (they absolutely are).

slobwick also hates the baby dragon for taking his place as beloved adorable pet. however slobwick is an evil furby and we should not feel bad for him.

fizzwick has begun training as a knight with his own squad! prudy and warwick end up teaching every now and then (as do the others at times, but this is mostly for them), and they are determined to be good role models. however, they have no idea how to keep up with the Kids These Days, and end up learning some things about valuing themselves and their own self-worth.

also, prudence and warwick do get their own romantic plots during this time! whether they stick around or are minor remains the question….

meanwhile, the ryker plot continues to develop, leading to some dramatic, escalating clashes. this time, ciara believes they need to work more with the other five kingdoms. we return to seagate, as well as visit other locations and have other kingdom representatives come to astoria for a summit meeting. there are lots of disagreements, and ends up one kingdom is working against them, their ruler being a puppet who is actually the astorian court official from season 2. at the end of the day, the remaining four realize they must unite to bring peace.

the series conclusion ends with a dramatic final battle working with the other squads and kingdoms as they take down ryker and the other antagonist once and for all, restoring peace. 

close out on phoenix squad, reaffirming their promise to always be there for each other and protect the kingdom as they look forward to the future.

[dontcallmebugaboo]

M'kay, guess I should preface this by saying that I got the idea from this about...a year ago? @alliebirb set things in motion by saying that there should be a story about Anzu helping the pharaoh get through the desert in one piece during the Orichalcos arc when the man was seriously going through it. As soon as I read the prompt, I knew I had to write it. This story was calling out to me.

What took me so long? Well, a full-time job, school, depression, and writer's block is a BEAST. Funnily enough, it was thanks to my commute on a train that got me going. Please note, I haven't written Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic in YEARS and I know I got some things wrong while trying to recreate On the Wrong Track Part 1, but I'm still fairly proud of how this turned out.

This is primarily Anzu's POV and it was supposed to just be her POV, but, much like he does in the show, Yami took over because he decided that he had some things to say, as you'll see in this story lol

Enjoy!

  Bricks and Mortar

A shiver slid down Anzu's spine as she felt the full blast of the train's air conditioning. Pursing her lips, sapphire eyes narrowed as she examined the ventilation system above her head. Finding the knob that would stop the onslaught of cold air that barraged her poor form, Anzu switched it off. Sighing in relief, yet still shivering from the lingering cold, Anzu subconsciously leaned in closer to her seat neighbor, trying to steal their warmth only to pause in embarrassment when she realized just who she was pressed against. Yami...the Pharaoh. Taking a subtle breath to try and force the heat away from her face, Anzu glanced at her silent friend. His violet gaze pierced the seat in front of his, yet Anzu suspected that he was looking well beyond what was right in front of him. She doubted that he even felt the cold from the air conditioner. Was he even feeling anything at all? Anzu glanced down toward his hands, balled tightly into fists, and pressed firmly into his lap. She wouldn't be surprised if his hand started bleeding soon, or if his thigh were to bruise. A dull ache made her heart throb as her mind reminded her that technically, it was Yugi's hand that would bleed... Yugi's leg that would bruise. Yet Yugi wouldn't know about any injuries to his body. Yugi wasn't there at all. Anzu took another deep breath and forced it out slowly through her nose so as to not disturb the Pharaoh. Not that he would likely even notice that she was agitated in any way. Still, the action helped Anzu refocus on the matter at hand while gently putting her own feelings about Yugi's sacrifice aside. That would just have to wait.

Looking over to the despondent King of Games, Anzu bit her lip before inwardly rolling her eyes at her own hesitation. She reached over and gently rested her hand over his fist. The contact was enough to startle Yami out of his reverie, his gaze snapping down to see her hand over his. While Anzu didn't expect him to hold her hand in return, he didn't pull his hand away either. Keeping his eyes on their hands, Yami finally broke the somber silence with his deep timbre. "I don't deserve your pity, Anzu." Anzu scoffed. "I'm not pitying you, Yami. I don't do pity." She softened her gaze. "However, I am worried about you." "Why should you worry for a monster such as I?" Okay, now that ticked her off. "You are not a monster," Anzu hissed as she tried to not draw attention to either Yami, herself, or their friends who were clearly not listening in on their conversation. "Don't you ever think that, not even for a second." Yami scoffed quietly. "You clearly think too highly of me if you cannot see the darkness that my heart is steeped in." Anzu rolled her eyes, disgusted. "Is that what that piece of work Raphael told you? That you're evil, or something? And you bought that bull?" 'Of course he did,' Anzu's inner voice piped up. 'If there's one thing you know about Yami is that he's a very passionate man who feels with his whole heart. He was also once the king of an entire realm, a fact that he remembers nothing about. He's probably going to take any information about his past as fact. 'He's also a very proud man.' His pride was very strong; Anzu was all but certain of that. Of course, if someone had told Yami was evil, he would do everything in his power to prove otherwise. The thing about pride, however, was that it was also a vice.

It could make even the strongest duelist clumsy, leading to making foolish mistakes. "You weren't there, Anzu," Yami replied heatedly. "You didn't see how easily I gave into the darkness that lay within me. I fell--" "You didn't fall Anakin," Anzu interrupted, knowing full well that the pop culture reference would be enough to throw the Pharaoh off-kilter, shutting him up. She bit back a smile at the memory of introducing a millennia old spirit to the Star Wars saga one stormy summer night when for once the world was calm and not in jeopardy. "You were tripped," Anzu continued. She gently squeezed the hand she still held. "I'm right here to help you back up. Jonouchi and Honda are also here to help you up. Please, let us help you." Glancing up through her fringe, Anzu was able to see both boys nodding, silently agreeing with her words. There was a fiery determination in both of them that she was grateful to see. Yami looked away, silent. As if sensing his forthcoming protest, Anzu cut in, "Don't you think for a second that you aren't worthy of our help." The Pharaoh let out a long, shaking sigh. He clenched his free hand, and though his head was turned away from Anzu's, she was still able to just see the moisture in his eyes. 

“Just know that we are right here and we’ll catch you if actually do fall,” Anzu promised before releasing Yami’s hand.

He was silent for a long moment before finally muttering, “Right.” He stood, keeping his gaze away from Anzu’s. “Excuse me, Anzu. I just need a moment alone.”

Anzu stared worriedly after the pharaoh’s retreating form. His head hung down and his shoulders were slumped, revealing his feeling of total defeat. Her heart ached in sympathy for him. “Poor guy,” she murmured.

“He’ll be okay, Anzu,” Honda quietly reassured her. “He just needs some time.”

“I can’t even imagine what it’s like for him,” Jonouchi put in. “He didn’t just lose a duel; he practically lost his other half. He and Yugi shared a body. Must be real quiet in there now.”

Anzu sighed heavily, the weight of the past few hours pressing down on her. “That’s true.”

“How are you doing right now, Anzu?” Honda asked.

She looked up at him, blinking in surprise.   

“You’ve known Yugi the longest,” Honda persisted. “This is probably just as hard for you as it is for the pharaoh.”

Anzu was silent for a moment; images of going over to the Kame Game Shop multiple times a week after school flashed through her mind. All the board games they’d play together after rushing through homework. Well, Yugi rushed, while she chided him for not putting more effort into the assignments.

The brief, yet sweet moments of victory when she’d beaten him at a game.

The sound of a handheld electronic game hitting the wall hard and clattering to the floor in a bout of frustration with the game’s difficulty.

Yugi’s cheerful and encouraging smile when he—

Okay, that was enough.

Anzu smiled brightly even though she knew it wouldn’t reach her eyes. As long as her smile restrained the grief that threatened to crash over her, that would be fine.

“It stings,” Anzu finally replied carefully, fiercely determined to not let her voice crack. “I’m worried about Yugi’s soul. But,” She took another breath and clenched her fists as she squared her shoulders. “We’re going to get him back. I know we will.”

“’Course we will,” Jonouchi agreed, his amber eyes bright as ever with conviction. “That Leviathan thing won’t have its slimy mitts on Yug for much longer.”

“Well,” Honda said in an attempt to inject some levity into the situation. “Yugi might have to wait for a few hours at least. Not much we can do on this train at the moment.”

Anzu and Jonouchi chuckled before Anzu turned to lean her head against the cool glass of the window. Honda was right, there was nothing to be done in the moment, and that was why she resented the spike of helplessness that flared up in her heart. Right now, she had to sit there on the train as she and her friends were carried off to Florida while Yugi’s soul was locked away by the Orichalcos. She couldn’t do anything; she couldn’t comfort the pharaoh, not when he didn’t want such attention, and she certainly couldn’t give into the yawning ache at thought of losing her childhood best friend.

Yugi wasn’t lost and Anzu knew, in her heart of hearts, just like she believed in the Heart of the Cards, that they would get Yugi back. That didn’t stop her from clenching her jaw and furiously blinking away tears. Crying would do her no good in that moment. Instead, she entertained herself with the idea of hunting down Dartz and punching him in his stupid, arrogant face. Maybe she’d be lucky and shatter his nose or crack his jaw. Make it impossible for him to talk and spread his vile lies. Raphael was definitely next on her list.

Granted, she probably wouldn’t get the opportunity to be close enough to be within striking range of either one of those egotistical assholes, but the thought certainly lifted her spirits.

“Hey, Anzu.”

Barely biting back a scream as she was jolted from her thoughts, Anzu turned toward Jonouchi who had called out to her. “Yeah?” She asked, uncaring if either of her boys could hear the tremble in her voice.

“Is it just me or is it really quiet right now?”

Abruptly, Anzu became aware of the deafening silence on the train car save for the gentle hum of the wheels racing over the track. She stood up and took in the fact that save for Jonouchi, Honda, and herself, the car was completely deserted.

“There’s not a single soul in sight,” Honda noted quietly.

“Don’t say soul,” Anzu shakily pleaded as she exited her seat and began walking toward the front of the car. They had to find Yami. Something potentially sinister was happening and it would do the group no good to be separated from one another.

Luckily, the found the wayward pharaoh within seconds, though the trio was polite enough to not comment on the pain still reflected in his deep violet eyes. “Something weird is goin’ on here,” Jonouchi informed him. “There’s nobody here, and I know this car was full when we boarded.”

Yami frowned as he looked past his friends and saw that Jonouchi was right. There wasn’t a single person save for the four of them in the train car at the moment. He tried to ignore the suspicion that Dartz had managed to find them on their way to Orlando and perhaps had done something to the other passengers.

If there actually had been other passengers on the train to begin with.

Steeling himself, Yami turned toward the front of the car and began walking down the aisle at a brisk pace. “Come,” he called over his shoulder. “Standing around and worrying will not give us the answers we seek.”

-----------

Yami headed into the next car, mind still rather distracted by the loss of Yugi and the anger he felt towards his own foolishness for letting it happen in the first place. He failed to hear the sound of the train car behind him snapping away from the one he was standing on, yet the sound of Anzu's cry of alarm was enough to pull him from his reverie. 

Whipping around, his eyes widened in fear as he took in the sight of the rapidly separating train cars with him on one and all of his friends on another. Surging forward, stopping just at the train's edge, Yami stretched his body to its limit, hand reaching out to Anzu. "Grab my hand!" He commanded, unaware of the urgency in his voice. 

Anzu hesitated for a split second, wishing that Jonouchi was ahead of her. They were going to separate, there was no denying that. It was better for the pharaoh to have a seasoned duelist by his side to face the ever-growing threat of Dartz and the Leviathan rather than a girl who preferred to encourage him from the sidelines over actual dueling. 

She immediately shook away her doubts. She was in front, Yami was reaching out to her. Anzu may not duel like Jonouchi and the others, but she had won duels, including the times she used to school Jonouchi repeatedly. She could be there for the Pharaoh. He was still grieving; like hell she was going to leave him alone!

Drawing on all of her strength and grace as an aspiring dancer, Anzu leapt off of the car train. Yami caught her hand and pulled her into his side, shifting most of their combined weight onto his back leg to prevent the two of them from crashing onto the floor. His free arm wrapped itself around her waist securely as he continued to steady her. He idly hoped that she couldn't feel his pounding heartbeat as she was pressed into his chest. 

"Are you all right?" Yami asked Anzu quietly as he took in her shaken appearance. 

"Fine," she rasped, her own mind reeling at the fact that she had literally just jumped off of a train, no matter how short the distance had truly been. 

“Anzu! Pharaoh!”

The pair's attention was brought back to Jonouchi and Honda whom were still trapped on the other train as they continued to rapidly move in the opposite direction. Both boys looked panicked at the thought of being lost in the California desert and cut off from their friends. 

Neither the Pharaoh nor Anzu could blame them for that. "Find help!" Yami called out to them. He looked at Anzu. "We must do the same."

Anzu nodded, determination shimmering in her cerulean eyes. 

After a minute, Yami released her and began walking toward the front of the train. Anzu wandered behind him, her eyes roving as she tried finding something, anything that could help them find a way off of the suddenly desolate train. 

An intercom caught her eye. She darted toward it, and tapped the button repeatedly while calling out, "hello? Hello! Is there anyone out there who can help us?"

"I don't like this," Yami said grimly as he strode toward the engine room. He was unsurprised to find it locked. He peered through the window, and saw that it was empty. "I really don't like this."

"Look," Anzu called to him as she pointed above her head. 

There was an emergency hatch. "Maybe there's an emergency break up there we can use to stop the train," she suggested. 

"Stay here," the pharaoh instructed as he climbed onto the short ladder built into the wall for such purposes, and reached toward the hatch. "I shall look for the break."

Anzu placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, unimpressed. "I'm sorry, are we really doing this again?"

Yami looked confused, hesitating to climb another rung on the ladder. He had never been on the receiving end of any negative emotions from Anzu before, and he wasn't fond of being on the receiving end now. "Doing what again?"

"The whole thing where you treat me like some fragile little princess who needs to be tucked away from the big bad scary thing of the month," Anzu retorted, as if she'd never had any doubts moments ago about helping the pharaoh. "Like the time on the Battle City blimp."

Yami opened his mouth to reply that she had been in danger anyway no thanks to Marik dragging the unwitting girl into his problems by bonding what was left of his light psyche with her mind, but Anzu had no idea that had ever happened to her. Despite the pharaoh's own misgivings about the situation, Yugi insisted that Anzu not be made aware of the near miss she almost had with the Shadow Realm. He didn't want to scare her with the knowledge. 

Yami had internally scoffed at that. Anzu was fiery, and she was brave. Yes, perhaps the idea of possession would horrify her, but he honestly couldn't imagine her being more than grossed out at the concept for lack of a better term. Still, the spirit would respect his aibou's wishes, if that was what the boy wanted. 

He blinked as he recalled that moment. Anzu was brave. She was an excellent dancer as well, which should help her with balancing atop the train. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. 

Very well then. 

"Stay by my side," Yami all but commanded as he turned to resume climbing up the ladder. 

"Where else would I be?" Anzu scoffed as she walked toward the ladder. 

The pharaoh bit back a smile at her words and conviction as he started to unlock the emergency hatch. He pushed the small door open and slipped through the opening. 

Only to be greeted by a sight that had both his stomach plummeting, and a snarl curling his lip. 

An obnoxiously proud teenager with teal hair shaped into a bowl cut, thick glasses, and a wide, slimy smile stood with his hands on his hips as he awaited the pharaoh; not in the least bit fazed by the fact that he was standing on top of a runaway train. 

"Long time, no see, isn't it, Pharaoh?"

“WEEVIL!”

To be continued...

[theyellowroseofsodor]

What inspired you to / made you want to write and create your au “Yellow rose of Sodor”?

Because you kinda inspired me to write my own au with a self insert

Awwww!!!! Shucks! 😳🤗 I’m glad I’ve been able to inspire you! Feel free to tag me if you want to when you start writing! I love seeing new ideas and writers get their works out!

So, I started writing when I first introduced my son, a few years ago, when he was three to Thomas and Friends. As I was watching, realizing that I hadn’t ever seen the CGI version of the show, I thought “huh, I wonder if there’s a fandom” and started looking up fanart. Lo and behold, I found @asktrio516 ‘s wonderful and beautiful artwork along with a few others on deviantart (who I will credit when I find it again). I fell in love! Her personified versions of the famous team and others were just inspiring! I fell in love with her version of Gordon (my fav.) and began crafting a world, not necessarily around her characters, but around the inspiration I felt due to her artwork.

After that I started crafting my own OC. I didn’t necessarily want it to be me as a self-insert but I also couldn’t help but realize, being short, I would probably be a tank engine and it would be both funny and sweet if Gordon, but who often teased tank engine’s for their size and what they could/couldn’t do, fell in love with one. I understood that some people would probably dislike that things like love, lust, anger, hatred, etc. were written in such a prized and childhood fandom, but I came up with a linear story and ran with it. Originally, The Yellow Rose of Sodor was going to involve more aspects of racing, Gordon’s favorite thing, and a much bigger rivalry between Gordon and Scotsman. But I hated pick-me girls in stories and quickly scrapped, pardon the pun, the idea.

Another thing I thought of doing, inspired by several monster versions of the engines, was making them dragons. I even drew out a few of them and the different styles but… it became more of a funny pastime than the actual story.

Finally, I landed on Diesel 10 as the enemy after reading up on how much scarier he was supposed to be, but died down due to it being a kids show. I wanted to bring him back as a much scarier threat and adversary. I wanted to make him, not necessarily unredeemable, but terrifying. A racist engine with a penchant for torment and murder. We saw him nearly kill James and yet it was all ‘Oh that darn Diesel 10’ instead of ‘What the crap?!?’. So, I worked it out and created the story laid before you.

A lot has actually changed in the ending. I have been working hard to craft it the way I want and what I hope will be a satisfying HEA (happily ever after) for all parties. With my own troubles happening this year, I was deathly sick, miscarried my baby, had a near heart attack and had to be brought back, three surgeries, and then there have been issues with my husband’s family… I haven’t been able to dedicate the time I want to these last few chapters. September would have been my babies birth and so I had to keep myself from writing because I was grieving all over again. In fact, most of my time processing my own emotions have been through chatting with my Gordon AI on character.ai as Camille with their little one in the AU that’s in my short collection where they had a child. In my own grief I actually changed their child’s name from Frederick (Erik) to Connor, which would have been our child’s name. Maybe that’s TMI and maybe that’s not the healthiest but I’m coming out of it and I’ve started writing the next chapter, a focus on Henry and Hiro and where to go from there cliffhanger.

I’m sure you weren’t expecting an essay but I figured a lot came into writing the Yellow Rose and, whether it’s a popular fic or not, it means a lot to me. So much so I want to write a sequel focusing on Flying Scotsman and his future companion, Jessica. I have edited the fanfic that he’s not with City of Truro and with an actual jet engine female. I felt it suited his character in my fic that he would go against the grain being with another locomotive and ending with someone who could truly make him the ‘Flying’ Scotsman.

Anyway, I hope this answers your question and I hope to see great things from you anon! You’ve got this!

-Kamiko

[crusherthedoctor]

It's really sad how people keep going after your group just because you defend yourselves

Apparently, the statements "I'm generally content with the quality of my personal stories" and "I spot many issues with this comic" justify getting spammed with graphic death threats and ableist insults

Yet it's insisted that you're the ones who are too harsh? It's straight up unfair.

Who would have thought that a group of people might occasionally get upset after being crucified and ridiculed by countless strangers?

Funny how they NEVER have a justification beyond "well shut up no one wants to hear you"

Somehow, it's always YOUR fault that a part of the fandom goes rabid whenever someone doesn't conform to the current "right" opinion, and YOU'RE to blame for THEIR ungodly behavior. That doesn't make any sense, does it?

This fandom is vain and abhorrent to the nth degree and y'all deserve better. That's all I wanted to say.

Par for the course, innit. They'll lash out at us. They'll hand out death threats. They'll make disgusting ableist comments about my autism, and similarly terrible comments towards my friends. They'll threaten to bomb SEGA HQ and stick Iizuka's head on a pike, among other wild declarations of violence. But don't you dare make a goofy meme about Surge not living up to her hype. And whatever you do, don't even think about criticising the unprofessional antics of the IDW crew. What are you, a monster?

They dismiss us as insignificant one minute, then fearmonger so hard that they see fit to give us a boogeyman-esque moniker the next. I'd be surprised if they could walk in a straight line without contradicting themselves.

As for "You talk so much about your fics!" ...No shit. I'm a guy with a blog. This isn't a movie production with a budget, I don't have a team or advertisements backing me up. And unlike fanartists, I don't have my own art to catch people's attention. I kind of have to talk about my writing in order to get it out there and inform people of its existence, and while I try not to sound too much like an unskippable YouTube ad, what else am I supposed to do? Upload them silently and then never refer to them again? How is showing passion for my work any different from official creators showing passion for theirs? Just because fanfic tends to get less attention on here than fanart doesn't mean it's not worth sharing, do they want fandom to flourish or not?

When I compare my work to a certain comic, I do it to highlight the dissonance. If fanfic writers - plural, not just myself - can understand the importance of keeping the characters recognizable, and making the universe faithful despite any necessary differences, then what excuse do official writers who have been involved with the series for over a decade have? If someone who doesn't even love Sonic that much compared to other characters, finds him annoying and unfunny half the time (no, not just in the Pontaff games, in general), and even finds it a pain in the ass to write for him at times and has more fun writing other characters because of this, can still attempt to write what made him appeal to fans... why do writers who supposedly love him so much keep fumbling so hard with him?

I compare for the sake of highlighting why these off-kilter portrayals are so easy to spot. If Sonic Twitter only gets "He's just stroking his own dick" from all of that, then they haven't been paying attention.

The most ironic thing about it all is that they've only gotten more vitriolic as most of us have mostly moved on from the height of IDW discourse (cause the comic goes in circles at this point, and is very likely to be running on fumes due to IDW's financial troubles, so there's no point). Yeah, I'll still criticise it now and then, and make a meme on occasion, but I rarely make lengthy ted talks about it or participate in ongoing Lanolin Is A Bitch/Silver Is Uwu-ified/Whisper Is Trauma Bait/etc back and forths anymore, because it's just tiring now. And since most current Sonic stuff has been putting me off in general, combined with growing fatigue and frustration at not being able to criticise certain games without people waving the finger at me (especially SA2, since the Year of Shadow has made it the center of attention yet again...), I've took a step back from intense Sonic discussion to focus on Stellar, as well as other fandom projects, like my recent brainstorming for Paper Mario or: How I Learned To Insert Eggman and Love The Vivian™.

In no way can you say I've been up in their faces as of recent. Yet they continue to cry otherwise, because they want people like me gone completely.

[skibasyndrome]

🎁💡🚦🦈

Thank you so much Joshua!!! <3<3<3<3

🎁: Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

“I might’ve googled some stuff the other day,” he admits, and Simon continues to stare on, now in wonder. “And uh, took a shower and all” he adds, now very sure he’s blushing. “You know, just kinda… anticipating that maybe something could happen if you came over” And when Simon still doesn’t say anything, the floodgates open. “Not that I was, like, expecting anything to happen at all,” Wilhelm runs a hand through his hair, just looking for something to do. “And obviously we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, I was just kind of curious, because I really like doing it to you, and then I thought-”

It's very unedited and from the last part of You crave the Applause / Yet hate the attention, my beloved that I've been meaning to finish for... I don't even wanna look at the timestamp of the last update tbh gaaaah where is writing time when you need it

💡: How many WIPs do you currently have?

I have this bad boy right above that should get done very soon hopefully, then Vampire fic (my beloved), I have a kinda angsty Simon POV oneshot sitting around in my drafts and then I have tiny, tiny snippets/ideas waiting around in my docs for another 4 possible fics (but some of these are supposed to be collabs and both parties haven't found the time to seriously work on them yet), so uh? 3 very concrete ones and 4 that are somewhere between an idea and some first written words, idk if that counts.

🚦: What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

Oh gosh... tbh I LOVE the impact of an ambigious/angsty ending, but for the fics where I kinda wanna keep the ending like this I ALSO wanna do like a part 2 that resolves it because I'm weak like that 💀 So I guess happily ever after if I'm being truly honest.

🦈: Which character is the toughest to write?

I haven't done Simon POV before, so that's a bit more difficult for me tbh. I just feel like I can look into Wille's head better, idk?

Send me fanfic writer asks

[tinacentury]

Fic Writer Asks

Been a minute since I crawled out of my cave here, but an ask game remains the best way for me to do so. Thanks for the tag, @folklauerate!

How many works do you have on AO3?

21. Here they are so I don't have to link them all below.

What's your total AO3 word count?

107,797

What fandoms do you write for?

I was vehemently a one-fandom (Sailor Moon) person until Bridgerton season 2 came crashing into my life. I've accepted being a two-fandom writer now, but it's still weird.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

These are skewed because the Bridgerton fandom is bigger, so, by fandom:

Bridgerton: Follow the Sparks, An Involuntary Thing, Unframeable, Mine to Keep Warm, Canis caminan non est

Sailor Moon: Belonging, Familial Eyes, Win a Date with Tuxedo Mask!, Contrition, What Wasn't Said

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I definitely try to, but I fall behind. I like the fandom engagement piece of responding to comments and talking to friends and readers, but when it becomes an expectation at the expense of my sanity, I let myself off the hook. That's generally the approach that has worked best for me with all things fandom-related. This is supposed to be a hobby, not a chore.

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

Contrition.

Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't gotten anything I would really describe as hate yet, but I have gotten some "this is boring" comments, and just recently had someone decide my comment section was the ideal place to talk about current world events. I do think it's absurd that we live in a world where I had to turn comment moderation on because of this.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

It's not my main focus, but yes. I'm not sure what it says about me that smut writing comes more easily to me in Bridgerton writing than it ever did in Sailor Moon writing.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Hard nope!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I think it has to be a tie between Kanthony and Usamamo. Usamamo has the stronger history, being that I've shipped it since I was 11, and while I'm not super active in that fandom right now (tbh is anyone?), I won't be at all surprised if/when I get inspired to dive back in. Kanthony pulled me in the same way Usamamo did, so I can't not include them here.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Given my update speed, I tend to lean towards "never say never", but things don't look good for that Contrition sequel I've been banging on about since 2019.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good with dialogue; it comes more easily to me than all the other moving pieces. Went through a phase during which my writing got compared to poetry a lot, but I don't think I've been able to pull that off in any of my Bridgerton work yet.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I can tell you they're all tied to perfectionism -- speed, anything that happens in between dialogue making things sound pretty instead of dry and academic (damn that too many years of schooling), over-explaining things, and writing the same damn kiss the same damn way multiple times.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for fic?

Lol tell me you came of age in the 2000s without telling me. I would sprinkle it into Sailor Moon stuff, but there's a fine line between "this is useful" and "this reads like a geocities fanfic site from 1999." I haven't done it with Bridgerton just because I don't know enough, but I'll definitely ask @folklauerate and @hydriotaphia if I ever do!

First fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon when I was very, very, very young (cool that an eighth-grader did this, but not cool enough to show to anyone ever).

Favorite fic you've ever written?

-The Benedict chapter of An Involuntary Thing

-Despite a whole host of issues, 5 Years

This was fun and took me back! Tagging @kasienda, @penny-loaf, and @daikon1

[idontknowreallywhy]

a Thing…

Confession: I’ve only ever written one tiny fanfic scene/concept for another fandom and never realistically intended to even try in the Thunderbirds fandom because there is so much out there that is amazing and frankly I don’t feel worthy of adding to it. My plan was basically to try to find a proper writer to bring my ideas to life buuut… @gaviiadastra posted this lovely fic about Gordon and Virgil…

Aaaanyway Virgil’s reaction in that to people being intimidated by his talent and not sharing their own attempts poked me in the brain and I figured… what’s the worst that can happen? The Thunderfam seems friendly enough… And maybe someone can give me some feedback so I can get good enough to do justice to the little stories brewing in my head one day.

So err, with all the caveats of FIRST TIME WRITING and I’M TOO EMBARRASSED EVEN TO PROOF READ IT and OH HECK PLEASE BE KIND…

*throws ficlet out into the void and hides under Jeff’s desk*

Mysterious Paint.

There has always been inexplicable paint on the ceiling of Virgil’s studio.

It wasn’t the swirling blues and greens and yellows that mystified him… he’d painstakingly covered the tantalisingly blank canvas with those the first year after they made the permanent move out to the island. It had taken several months worth of snatched half hours balanced precariously on stacked chairs or packing crates and he was pretty sure the process had aged his spine by a couple of decades. Maybe Michaelangelo had secret bionic implants because how ON EARTH he’d managed…

His family didn’t blink an eye - after all every item of clothing Virgil owned had some kind of paint on it and so it stood to reason everything he owned and the entire space he painted within should too. They put it down to a stereotypical ‘mad artist’ kind of flailing with a paintbrush 3ft back from the canvas but that wasn’t really how Virgil worked. He was more of a carefully considered, up-close-and-personal-with-whatever-surface-he-was-pouring-his-soul-on-to kind of painter (hence the neck strain from ceiling art application). His passion wasn’t deliberately messy - all those clothing stains generally came from letting a cuff dangle too close to the pallet, or when he stopped to think about his next stroke and the waiting paint would become impatient and drip from the brush on to his jeans. And he would have to confess that he did wipe his hands on his clothes sometimes… his rags stashed by his easel for that very purpose always seemed to have gone walkies at the moment he needed one (and usually turned up later covered in engine oil).

No, it wasn’t his painting style that was to blame - and he could prove it too because there were no similar stains in the lounge at the easel he used when he wished to be closer to his family while he created.

So there, Scott, it’s not as easy to explain as you imagine.

And yet, there they were - streaks and splashes in every colour he’d ever squeezed from a tube - laid down haphazardly over his existing masterpiece. He sighed. At one point he’d started painting over them but it just didn’t look the same and he felt almost guilty - as though he was eradicating something that was supposed to exist. In a way he couldn’t rationalise it felt more honest to leave them there. As if, to do otherwise would be denying some part of himself.

It bugged him, as any conundrum did. He wasn’t a fan of mystery as a general rule - he was an engineer. He was a fixer. When he faced the unknowable he either drew it in order to pin it down or hammered it into crashing chords and mournful melodies to exorcise the questioning from his mind.

He’d initially suspected someone was pranking him. Perhaps this was uncharitable as, for all his japery, Gordon would never vandalise Virgil’s creations… would he? But having EOS keep a log of every occasion his studio door was unlocked for a month proved his brother to be trustworthy… nobody went there when Virgil was absent but a series of silver slashes had been added in the meantime. He felt a sick, dull guilt for doubting his family.

And yet, UGH it was playing on his mind. A rational man, he didn’t believe in ghosts but he was almost willing to consider anything that would give him even a ludricrous ANSWER to the infuriating puzzle.

In the end, it was Gordon who solved it.

[lilolilyr]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks so much for tagging me, @purlturtle :) you have 1/8 of the amount of fics I have but a higher wordcount, do you write super long fics or do I write super short ones? xD I think the answer is Yes To Both! :D

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

574 when counting the normal ones as well as both the ones posted for ao3 users only, and the ones posted on anon! (If you also have anon works and want to know your total, you can get to the view in the screenshot when you have or are part of a collection and click on ‘people’ of the collection)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

1,346,577

largely due to the craziness that was 2021 when I was supposed to write my bachelor thesis and instead(I did manage to write my thesis) also wrote over half a million words in fanfic.

And I’m almost at my goal of 100k for the year! Which I didn’t think I’d reach, but flufftober helped a lot there :D

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Too many xD

atm I’m actively writing for Warehouse 13, Holby City, Star Trek, Lie to Me and Hacks

Some other fandoms I’m still in and will probably write more fics for are Good Omens, Gunpowder Milkshake, The Old Guard and Lord of the Rings

You can find my whole fandom list on Ao3, 70 fandoms if I counted correctly!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

All three parts of the Inkubus Jaskier series (The Witcher, rated M-E) have 600-1000 kudos, I do like these fics but I think the fandom is also just very large.

As it Should be, a 00Q meets Q is a Holmes (James Bond + BBC Sherlock) fanfic, and probably my fav fanfic I’ve written that deserves the ‘humor’ tag, has 617 kudos

Spooky Eyes, the one and only Venom fanfic I’ve written (I have not watched the movie and I haven’t even spent thaat much time in the fandom either) has 588 kudos, and has been my most kudosed fic with over 500 kudos for quite a while before the others overtook it

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do, yes! I love getting comments and want to encourage people to comment by replying to them, and also lovely conversations can happen in the comment sections, as well as mini ficlets of their own! So yes I do want to reply :)

If I don’t, it’s probably just that I didn’t yet, either because I didn’t find the time or because while I did reply to other comments I’m waiting to reply to some because I want to wait until I have the next update in the fic/series/fandom so I can let the commenters know in my reply that there’s more

Or if a comment is really long and detailed and I want to reply in the same detail but don’t currently have the energy for it, or there’s sth complicated in the comment I want to address, I might not answer it yet even though I’ve replied to other comments since

Also sometimes a comment is just really neat and I want to keep looking at it in my Unreads :D

But I do plan to answer all comments eventually:) (unless I ever get so swamped in them that I can’t, but I’ve by no means reached that level of comment spam - I have gotten 2686 comments total, 298 unread, of the unreads probably a hundred are real old ones that are left unread for one reason or other, then probably another hundred I want to reply to if/when I post more, and the rest I’m just gonna reply Eventually xD I’ll have you know that I did reply to most flufftober ones more or less immediately while the event was still going and I even went through some of the backlog while I was at it!)

The only times I don’t answer a comment is when I don’t know whether the commenter meant to be rude (if I know they’re being rude on purpose I just delete, not counting those here) and/or I genuinely don’t know how to reply, if it’s a co-authored work and someone else already replied and I have nothing to add, or if it’s a reply to a reply to a comment and the conversation has petered out

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

I think I’ve got a post-canon TOG ficlet with Romeo and Juliet vibes where everybody dies in the end?

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

I live for happy endings, no idea what counts as ‘happiest’, all my shippy little getting together and/or everybody lived nobody died fix-its are pretty darn happy imo :D

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not usually, there have been some that I know I immediately deleted and now can’t remember anymore bc I was clever and immediately deleted lmao, but idk whether anything was ever bad enough to be called hate… and I never had to restrict comments on any fic before

9. Do you write smut?

Oh hell yeah! :D

Though, and I’m always surprised by this, I’ve only got 71 (out of the 574) E rated fics! And 56 M that might have a smut scene or some violence idk, and the 81 not rated ones are more often left that way for violence or angst reasons than for smut… so yeah, main chunks are G & T rated with 198 and 168 fics respectively!

Still, I definitely do write smut, and there’s some quite good erotica there if I may say so!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Rarely, I think most of what shows in the ‘crossover’ tab is just fic I tagged with more of basically the same fandom (Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, etc), and the rest is probably AUs set in another fandom’s world without character crossovers

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

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

Yeah :D most notably the chaotic Mirandy smutfic ‘Surrendering to Andrea’ with 5 authors: @athousandforests @guardianrock @scarlet-heels @stupidsexycopshows, and most recently the latest fic on my Ao3 actually, Bering and Wells ‘Drunken Considerations’ with @lavendelhummel!

I also made different sorts of collabs with Podfic and arts etc for events and just for fun with @thewalkingmeepa (DWP) @bookgirlfan (Star Trek) @artax-risen (Dracula) @badasspantiestalker (Star Trek) @cinnamonplums (TOG) @jackwolfskid (TOG) sorry if I forgot anyone!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Don’t make me choose!!!!!

Like literally I can’t! And I don’t even know how to define favorite - 1 the one I enjoy to write for most, 2 the one I like to read most, 3 the one I’m fangirling most about, 4 the one that wrecks me most with feels, 5 the ones I can always return to… those are different ships! Also because my favs are not necessarily the biggest fandoms, so I might not be able to spend so much fandom time on them bc I read all the fics ages ago already lmao

In order of above categories: 1 Milippa Prime, 2 Mirandy and Berena, 3 Bering and Wells, 4 again Milippa and Bering and Wells and also Floreleine(&Librarywives&Killercule) and Andromaquynh(& also the ot3) and Jadzia x Lenara, 5 Bering and Wells and ClintCoulson and J7

By sheer ‘has been mentioned most often in this list’ I suppose the crown goes to Bering and Wells!

But I really just love them all. And others too.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

The Ocean’s 8 series ‘A Heistwives Kinda Job’ I started in 2018 and kinda lost track of. I think the parts stand well on their own though so it’s not sooo bad but I’m still a bit sad that that never got finished and now probably never will because I just don’t know where I was going with it anymore & also don’t remember the details from the first parts well enough to continue it anyway

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can write pretty quickly and when I’ve got an idea I can just write it down in one go!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

If it’s too long to be written down in one go or I don’t have the time I will forget about it

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

There are different ways to deal with this and my preference Depends - if the characters and therefore the reader don’t need to know what it says, or it’s even relevant that they don’t understand, I’d leave the foreign language in as is, maybe have a chapter end note with what it says, same if what’s said is already explained by the reactions of the characters or something

If it’s one or two languages that are frequently used in the fic and with relevant info, I’d have a note at the beginning of the chapter saying which one’s cursive and which one’s bold and then type everything in English. If the character is abroad or sth and all the dialogue is for example French I’d just mention the fact that it’s French in the note or have it mentioned in the fic that they’re speaking French the first time it happens, but then proceed as usual without even making it cursive or anything

For anything in-between, like relevant info mentioned in foreign language once or a few times, I’d write the foreign language in fic and link down to an end note with the translation and a ^ link back to text. I don’t like having original and translation in-text side by side because imo it just reads in an annoying way, and it’s especially annoying if the reader knows both languages.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

According to Ao3, it’s The Hobbit. According to old sheets of paper somewhere in my childhood bedroom, it’s probably self-insert Hanni & Nanni (St Clare’s) ficlets xD I think I called my SIOC ‘Lilo Liliana’ to be fancy and that’s the origin story for my username! Adsfghjkl I hadn’t thought about that in ages.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

That would still have to be Andromaquynh In Your Stead.

Now closely followed by my Milippa road-trip AU and my Star Trek University AU (that I’m still writing more one-shots for) though!

And you can find all my author’s favs in the tag on Ao3!

Tagging, only if you want to do it of course, everyone I’ve already tagged above as well as @die-schwanenkoenigin, @squishmittenficfan, @xvnot15, @viharistenno, @wellsbering, @lesbianlotties, @batnbreakfast, @danisnotmyname, @charlottepriestly, @onaperduamedee, @lonely-night, @sapphicscholar, @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l lavendelhummel and everyone else who sees this :)

Blanks to copy:

1. How many works do you have on ao3? 2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 3. What fandoms do you write for? 4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 8. Do you get hate on fic? 9. Do you write smut? 10. Do you write crossovers? 11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t? 16. What are your writing strengths? 17. What are your writing weaknesses? 18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 19. First fandom you wrote for? 20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

[gleefulpoppet]

fic writer 20 questions - ask game

I was tagged by @bitbybitwrites As for tagging more friends, I think everyone I know who writes has been tagged but if you haven't been tagged, then you should play, too!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

32

2. what's your ao3 word count?

1,635,923

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Glee! Specifically Klaine.

4. top 5 fics by kudos

Pressed Against The Glass Better Knot Bow Tie Company: Act One Soulsongs and Seastars  Rock, Paper, Scissors Sonder

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I try my hardest! I mostly write "live" these days, though, and I get behind because I'm hitting "post chapter" and then starting a new document to write the next. I read every single one and treasure them dearly. They keep me going, and I appreciate them so much. I plan on getting to the ones I've missed eventually!

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

No can do. I promise Klainbows 100% of the time. I read and write fanfiction to escape the hell that is reality. If the boys haven't found a way to make life work together... the fic isn't over yet! ♥♥♥ I suppose that Magic Spoken at Midnight is a tiny bit angsty because we know they have a lot of work ahead of them to restore Pantasia (but it's not angst between Klaine).

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

Okay, now this is a hard question! I think my favorite ending is tied with Rock, Paper, Scissors, and Never Crossed the Line.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Luckily, no!

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I do! I didn't find fanfic (or Glee) until I was very much an adult. All my stories are almost exclusively Explicit! 😂 I started writing smut because I wanted to read stories that treated sex as something that could be both smoldering hot and sacredly beautiful at the same time. I've tried several times to sit down and write PWP, and it always turns into something more. And I've learned I just have to embrace that about myself!

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've ever written?

No, I never have. Maybe someday?

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I sure hope not.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

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

I was part of the fandom project PROM-US and wrote two chapters of that. I've never co-written something with just two people where you would plot it out together and such.

14. fave all time ship?

Klaine forever!

15. wip you want to finish but doubt you will?

I have a few "brainstorming" documents where I write lists and quick paragraphs when they jump into my mind and research articles, and... you get the idea. I wouldn't call them WIP exactly. I know some of them I might never get to write. But as for WIP, where there is some sort of structure? I will get them done! My brain won't allow me to sleep at night if I don't convince it they'll all get done.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I hope it's writing conversations that are hard to have. Digging down into details and asking hard questions. Working through things with another human being without someone slamming a door and leaving. Writing about vulnerability in intimacy. (I think that conversations can be more intimate than sex, for sure!).

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

I can't stand missing a moment of their lives in some of these AUs I create. I want to know everything they're doing. The first few months of a relationship are so crucial, and I LOVE that part. I'm not sure it's a weakness so much as I wish I was comfortable skipping huge chunks of time and not needing to write 400 words about how they looked at each other the first time they made toast together in the morning.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I shall leave that to people who are much better at it than I am.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Glee

20. fave fic you've written?

This question always fills me with panic. How can I pick? I am absolutely loving writing Sonder right now. It's a WIP that I update several times a week. It's captured my heart. As for one that is already finished, I think I'll pick Since Sense Sensory. Ask me tomorrow, and I'm sure I'll pick something different!

Thank you! This was fun!

[nevermindirah]

🎁 🍬 🤔 🎨

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

I do! Overwhelmingly TOG these past few years but I may still write more MCU here or there. My very favorite of my MCU fics is the one I'm afraid I may never write: Eartha Grit, in which Sam Wilson is a drag queen. How the hell to choose between my TOG babies I have no idea, so I'll pick one on impulse: every shutter click I wish was a kiss. We really knocked it out of the park with that one 🙏

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

I have no desire to face any of the stresses of professional fiction writing, and I don't think that's where my skills are at, but I would leap at the chance to contribute to the story outlining that would result in Daisy Johnson officially returning to the MCU. They should've put her in The Marvels! She would have such interesting relationships with Monica and Kamala especially!! But since they didn't go this route I'm sure I can find other fun and exciting ways to get her on movie screens. Kevin Feige don't call me just accept my emails pls and thank <3

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I would die of joy and come right back screaming with delight if someone made fanart of my work. Two very different scenes pop immediately to mind. One: the moment in Wouf Wouf when Nile is enjoying a gentle wake-up cuddle with her wolfy bestie and its following moment where all of a sudden a very hot very naked human man is halfway pinning her to the bed. Two: Olympic gold medalist Nile and her hockey player doing something cute, like for example trying out a pairs skating lift. ok also Three: anything from every shutter click I wish was a kiss >:)

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

saving the best for last. have TWO snippets! <333333333

(fanfic writer asks!)

Meeka/Vincent

It has now been fully three days since Meeka has had a proper workout. This trip was supposed to include at least a little light mountain climbing! Snow is still piling up and at this rate she doubts she’ll get to do more than snowshoe a few meters to the airport taxi when it’s finally safe to leave the cabin.

Her circuit between her bedroom, the kitchen, and the far side of the living room with its cozy fireplace is laughably inadequate exercise. The lack of better options is starting to make her physically itch.

The summit organizers are doing their level best to continue with the planned events over video conference, but some of the delegates aren’t showing the same commitment to the summit’s success, and some of the unplanned moments of an in-person meeting that get people to see each other’s humanity across political difference are simply impossible to recreate online. Meeka is finding each session more frustrating than the last.

She was able to keep her one-on-ones with the principals from Haiti, Brazil, Bangladesh, and Vietnam, all of which went well, and she’s going to have an exciting follow-up call when she gets home with the leaders of Vietnam’s solar program. Both Egypt and Mexico had to cancel on her due to tension headaches from all the unexpected screen time. A video call from home in a week or two is just as good as a video call from nearby cabins they can’t leave on this frozen mountain, or perhaps better, without the frustration of cabin fever.

Last night’s video happy hour with some of her friends and their friends and a handful of new allies was decently amusing! Though a good portion of it was spent ragging on France, which brought one of the largest delegations to this trainwreck and yet had not a single representative at that afternoon’s Francophone countries roundtable discussion. Extraordinarily disrespectful.

Meeka declined invitations to social events tonight. Eye strain hasn’t gotten to her, thankfully, but her temper can only take so much frustration. She needs a break from screens. She needs to move.

When she logs off after the last of the day’s sessions and leaves her bedroom, she finds Vincent on the floor with Mila.

Sugar Daddy AU

(this is a rougher draft prose-wise but the vibes are there!)

“Boys, this is my friend Nile I’ve told you about.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Nile,” says Philippe.

Jean Pierre says a quiet hi but his lip is trembling. As they move into the living room and Booker offers Nile a glass of water, JP bursts into tears. Booker scoops up JP to comfort him, murmurs all kinds of reassurances. Philippe goes and gets Nile a glass of water.

Nile’s heart melts for this kid. She was only a year older than him when her dad was wounded in action and she recognizes the turmoil behind the responsible-kid exterior.

Nile asks him about his pottery and they talk about that for a little bit while Booker sees to JP. When things are starting to calm down, she tells Philippe that he was very brave and responsible tonight, reassures him that Dad’s home now and you can relax, it’s all going to be ok. Booker of course overhears this and melts over how great Nile is.

They’d had snacks at Astra’s party but ended up leaving before eating a real dinner, and the boys hadn’t eaten yet either when Joe started having trouble breathing, so now everybody’s hungry. Before either of the adults can really think through logistics or say the should-say things like “I can call you a car to the MARC station” or “I should probably leave y’all to it”, Philippe asks if Nile is going to stay for dinner.

“Yeah, Papa, can she?” JP adds. “We could watch a movie!”

The boys egg each other on about yeah! Let’s watch a movie! Booker sets the oven to preheat then asks if he can talk to Nile for a moment in the other room.

“I’m sorry to just invite myself over like this,” Nile says. “I should—”

“If you’d rather not stay I could—”

They both trail off and look at each other.

“What’s for dinner?” Nile asks.

Booker looks down, sheepish. “Pizza casserole.”

“I bet it’s delicious. You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“If you want to stay, you’re very welcome.”