#you will never catch me typing fanfic on the work computer I have to go old school

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Had the sudden urge to write for the first time in a long time. I had a few minutes alone at work and thought, why not? I have no idea when I’ll have time to continue, but in case you all thought I’d abandoned Once More, I have not.

[dcficrecs]

I'm A Good Pretender - Chapter 2: I Got Lots Of Problems

By shipNslash on AO3

My last post was an excerpt from the first chapter of this fic. I've finished it now and I like most of it, but there's something in Chapter 2 that I just have to talk about. This whole fic is a Robin origin story. It has seven chapters, so it drawfs in comparison to the 'Firework' fic by paganpunk2 on fanfiction.net (I posted about that too, maybe my favorite fanfic ever). Still, I really like it. It's written with excerpts from days. It starts with day zero, where Dick's parents are killed and Bruce comforts him. Day one is him meeting Alfred at the orphanage, and it goes all the way to day 262, where Commissioner Gordon meets Robin.

Anyway, in this particular excerpt, Dick is scheming to sneak out of Wayne Manor and kill Tony Zucco himself, and has to guilt trip Bruce in order to be alone long enough to escape even though he feels bad about it. He likes Bruce, but he isn't quite a father figure to him, yet. Dick has inherited Bruce's old bedroom, something very sentimental to Bruce. The excerpt starts with Bruce giving a tour of his old room. Bruce also gave Dick a note, saying to ring the service bell when he wakes up. He does, and it calls Bruce to his room. Dick keeps the note in his pocket. Also, a slight trigger warning for mentions of sexual abuse against a child.

So Bruce awkwardly shows Dick around the cavernous bedroom. The dresser is full of generic clothes in his size and Bruce promises they can get his stuff from their trailer later today and go shopping soon for anything he's missing. He shows him how to work the computer at the desk and the TV on the wall, and even points towards the staff lift at the end of the hallway that will take him directly to the kitchen. The bathroom is in the bedroom and almost as huge, with a sink and toilet and a big shower/bathtub combo already filled with a bunch of different soaps.

"I wasn't sure what you'd need," Bruce mumbles when Dick comments on the variety. "We have different hair types."

That's…surprisingly thoughtful, Dick thinks, and Bruce's folded note feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket.

He ignores the guilt and smiles. "Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it."

"I want you to be comfortable here," Bruce whispers back, even quieter than normal.

Dick pushes the guilt down, down, down. Now is as good a time as any and Bruce is already uncomfortable. Now if Dick can just get him to leave…

(Never talk about sex, Mama always says, grown ups hate when kids even mention sex.)

"What about rules?" Dick asks, pitching his voice a little higher and widening his already big eyes just a little bit bigger. "One of the older boys at the detention center said rich people only foster kids to warm their beds. I don't know what that means, but I'll try, if you teach me."

And bingo.

Bruce's pale skin goes practically gray and he flinches back until he's outside of the bathroom. "That- No, I- You won't ever-"

"Did I say something wrong?" Dick asks, adding in a small sniffle and not letting up on the eye contact. (He's already learned that Bruce Wayne hates eye contact.)

The man is still backpedaling, now well to the hallway. "No! No. I'll… see you at breakfast." When he steps out of the room, his shoulders sag. "Kitchen. Eight." And then he's gone, latching the door shut behind him.

Dick sighs and flops against the bed. That was almost too easy. He feels… kinda bad.

Still. Eight o’clock. That's just over three hours, according to the clock on the wall.

"Alright," he mumbles to himself and carefully rocks to his feet. "Like Mama says, make a list."

So, he does.

Stretch my poor, atrophying muscles

Shower off the scent of the detention center

Find out where Haly's went

Sneak out

Catch and murder Tony Zucco

Run away to (re)join the circus 

There, that doesn't seem hard now that he's made a list- Mama's always right.

Something about "I don't know what that means, but I'll try if you teach me," is literally so well written. Obviously, gross, but Dick using something that makes Bruce obviously uncomfortable to his advantage against Bruce is so Dick coded. Dick absolutely knew what it meant and purposefully used it to horrify Bruce. Guilt tripping Bruce Wayne is so easy, as long as you're Dick Grayson. He's a little gremlin and I love it. Also, the list he makes is adorable, literally went from zero to a hundred real quick.

[steviewashere]

For the writers ask game - 🍓, 🕯, and 🦷!

Ooo these ones are super interesting questions, thank you for the ask <3

My answers are so long, forgive me.

🍓— How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I was pet sitting for a friend of mine and was listening to some music on my computer while cleaning up a bit. And I can't remember the exact song that I was listening to, but it inspired me to write some dialogue. I think the dialogue I began writing was something along the lines of having to do with a heart being like a rose bush or something??? I genuinely cannot remember. All I know is that it turned into this chunk of dialogue from my first fanfic, "Out of This Garden, You Are My Favorite Flower":

"That you can be beautiful. That you can hurt others. That they will try to remove these ugly parts of you. I think everybody needs the ugly parts of themselves. And, you know, your heart is the rose," Eddie placed his left hand over Steve's heart. It beat steadily. The shirt, subsequently the skin, under his palm was warm. "Your heart is a rose. It is the most pure part of yourself. And because it continues to beat, that shows your perseverance through every disgusting mess you've been involved in. All those fights, the Upside Down, your own head," Eddie smirked, but not teasingly. "A person can't blossom without acknowledging that. You've done that. Truly, I think you have."

I just remember reading back part of the original dialogue, which I believe is long gone (think I deleted it from my notes app??), and thinking, Oh, this sort of works for Steve/Eddie. So I squished the lines into something that made semi-sense. And the rest is history. Can definitely tell you, right now, that my dialogue has improved immensely.

🕯️— On a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? Why is that?

I honestly think it might be a seven. I'm not—like—spectacular at editing, but there's a sort of rhythm to it that I enjoy. Now, the only reason it's not a full ten is because I get really mad at myself when I catch horrible spelling/grammatical errors...especially that cursed your/you're mistake. But in terms of what I like, I sort of enjoy the rigorous practice of figuring out what does and doesn't work. I enjoy expanding upon a sentence; you'll maybe notice that I do a lot of run-on list type sentences—like this one from "Hold Me Softly":

Steve sighs, not quite relieved, but easier. It’s still bright. And Eddie’s van smells a little bit like marijuana. And maybe Steve hasn’t smoked that in a little while because the scent is too intense and he never knows how to explain why the smell alone makes him want to scream, but it does and he knows part of that isn’t normal but he doesn’t know how to be normal and now he’s blown his cover all because of something petulant like music being too loud and now Eddie won’t want to date him because he’s being irritable and annoying and—

That one I had gone back and extended while in the editing process. Because I figured it would be easier to kind of show Steve's panic in the narrative, rather than have him say to Eddie that he's overwhelmed or hitting a wall or whatever. So, that part of editing I really enjoy. Or when I get to add in a little bit extra, usually a description or another line of dialogue. I kind of just enjoy the challenge that comes with editing. Because my brain is sort of on autopilot when I'm actually writing the piece, but revisiting it during editing is when the real work begins.

🦷— Share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on.

I fear that I don't have much in terms of personal wisdom or life hacks. But I'll try.

If you're somebody like me who gets really anxious when they're nauseous, find something to ground yourself. And that's easier said than done, so my favorite go-to things are typically a sour or hard candy. I've had good experiences with Jolly Ranchers, Cinnamon Discs, Butterscotch Discs, and my new favorite have been these Hongyuan Guava candies. Or chewing gum, usually mint...like a spearmint or even the polar ice flavor from Extra.

Personal wisdom, though. This one's maybe a little, not darker, but not super light either. I'm somebody that's struggled with my mental health/suicidal thoughts for most of my life. And when I mean most, I mean most. It's hard, I know, to find things or find a reason to keep going. And I find the stupidest piece of advice I've ever been given is, "Stay for yourself. Be here for you." If you don't like yourself or don't really know about yourself, that piece of advice is dog shit.

For me, I found reason through even the smallest of things that brought me pleasure. Things like...music. I remember, the lowest point in my life was back in November, 2022. This was two months after Djo's Decide released and I had already listened to it a few times all the way through. And at a time where I had been considering, y'know, it was music that drew me back in. I had this passing, yet very firm thought that, If you do this, you may never know if Djo puts out another album. If you do this, think of all the music you're going to miss. And music is such an important part of my life, I couldn't fathom leaving it behind. Sure, there was family I needed to think of and eventually myself, but at my lowest, it was music; it was art. I found myself thinking of other things, too. Like, at the time, I thought about possibly missing the end of Stranger Things—what would happen to my favorite characters, I wouldn't know. And then, Who's going to make the best damn apple pie for Christmas? Nobody else in my family bakes like I do.

And it just went on and on. None of it was really about me. It was all these small, almost unimportant things, that got bigger and bigger as I thought deeper and deeper. It was a lot of music and art and culture. It was food that I really enjoy. It was my cat's purr. And my siblings' laughter. My best friend, across state lines, who knows me better than I know myself, who still sends me memes about YouTubers we've watched since we were eleven years old.

So, if you're struggling like I at one point did, think of all the smaller things in your life that bring you joy. Even if other people think they're not as important as yourself, fuck them. If you like it, if that thing pleases you, hold onto it. It's a drop in the ocean to most people, but if you're floundering, like a fish, the ocean is the best place to be—yeah? You want all the water you can get. In the end, if pleasure is what saves you, then so be it. You don't have to stay for yourself, you can find other things to grapple onto. Because, yeah, if you go through with the plan, you may never know the other things in your life that'll bring you joy.

And, y'know, there's been a lot of online activity from the Djotime Instagram page. There's a third album coming and I would've never known that if I went through with my plan. And, at some point—though I can't pinpoint when—I found myself as a reason, my future, the things I want for myself. But it started with wondering about this upcoming album. It hasn't come out yet, it could completely suck (who knows), but even if it does...at least I got to hear it, right?

Seriously, it's the small things. I think (and sorry that got so deep) that's my personal wisdom.

Writer's Truth & Dare Ask Game

[lolliputian]

Writer Interview Tag

Ooh, fun! Thank you to @graysparrowao3 for tagging me in this; I find talking about my process fascinating but am never sure if folks are interested in this kind of thing.

I'm bad at keeping up on my dash, so apologies if you got tagged and did this already and I wasn't aware: @rainyssafespace @queen-of-cats @trashcritter

On y vas!

When did you start writing?

I've always been an extremely imaginative person, so I've been composing scenarios and stories in my head for as long as I can remember. The earliest I actually remember being really into writing was in third grade, and--don't laugh--a Magic School Bus fanfic (where my classmates and I turned into the characters on the show, I guess nine-year-old Lolli was into isekai?).

From then on, I've always been writing and world building to some degree. I finished my first "novel" at age 11, which was stylistically very Babysitters Club inspired, about my friends and me putting on a school production of The Sound of Music. It was seventy pages on WordPerfect, I was very proud, and every use of "definitely" was misspelled "defiantly".

Come to think of it, my fifth grade best friend was also very into writing. We'd sit around and alternate between one of us drawing and one of us writing in her room. From what I can tell, she's kept up with the drawing whereas I've kept up with the writing since then.

Are there any specific themes or genres that you enjoy reading other than what you write?

I enjoy reading futuristic or science fiction works but have no desire to write it myself. I like my swords and magic!

In terms of fanfic, I usually tend to gravitate toward stuff I'm not writing as a rule of thumb. Part of that is because I get so immersed in what I'm writing that I don't want to confuse myself, but part of it is the fun of exploring characters or ships I know I won't in my own writing.

Is there a writer that you want to emulate or get compared to often?

That I want to emulate? No. I want to show my readers who I am through my writing as a way to express myself in a way I usually don't allow myself.

That I get compared to often? I'm not aware of any. But I'm also not sure how many writers in the BG3 space are writing chaptered post-game ensemble fics with a rotating third person POV that heavily feature OCs outside of Tav. It's, errr, a specific niche.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write on my laptop. It's almost always in my living room in a specific chair, with a cup of coffee on one side and cats curled up with me. Occasionally, I'll write in my home office or at my dining room table. Sometimes, I'll also write on my desktop, depending on what's going on. Or, if I'm writing at work, I have a little "lunch nook" in my office that I'll sit in to type away.

Editing is exclusively done on my desktop computer. In lieu of printing out work to proofread, having a different space and a different monitor help immensely to catch errors.

To note, I absolutely cannot write on my phone. Outside of roleplay tags, it drives me insane. I don't know how people do it.

Every once in a while, I write things out physically with pen and paper as a treat.

What is your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don't have a great or awe inspiring answer for this. The fact of the matter is, when inspiration hits, I know I have to run with it or it's lost.

If I'm struggling, what I will do in lieu of writing out sentences and paragraphs is to put what I want to say into note form. Then, when I go back to actually write, a lot of it is out there for me to take and use as I see fit. It helps a LOT.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

There are! I get teased for being the angst queen on one of my servers. But I love stories where people band together to overcome adversity. You'll find particular with my ships where, if the couple can't overcome things external to their relationship together, I get bored writing them really fast. This is partially why I struggle with smut and where I outright can't write readers.

Along the vein of readers: I can't write those or generic Tav fics at all. If I can't deep dive into characterization, my interest flies out the window.

I love running gags ("it's under new management"), well placed references, and call backs. Also, I tend to enjoy writing platonic relationships over romantic or sexual relationships.

What is your reason for writing?

I write what I want to read. Outside of that, my major motivation is wanting to explore things no one else is writing. While walking the well-trodden path might get me more interaction, it also isn't going to make me happy; I'll sacrifice smaller numbers for writing what makes me happy.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment that you find particularly motivating?

Anyone who takes the time to comment on my fic has my utmost appreciation, especially in this age where people don't comment often. It means a lot you take the time to leave one.

But my favorite is when people engage me in conversation about my fic. I have a friend who recently read throughout all of Time and Again and is working on my other fics, and they are excellent at pointing out specific characterization and narrative beats. Moments like that make me feel like the readers really get me.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Well-spoken and able to execute concepts well. I put a lot of time and thought into most of what I write, and I hope that shows.

What do you think is your greatest strength as a writer?

Worldbuilding and connecting the dots. I haven't gotten a whole lot of comments from people recognizing the return of things foreshadowed chapters ago in longfic, but I do it quite a bit. My brain is naturally wired for long form content.

If I can toot my own horn, bringing characters to life and making them feel like actual people, flaws and all. I'm extremely picky about characterization and try to hold myself to a particular standard there.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I answered this above: I write for myself. In my opinion, when I write what others want over what I want to write, it is absolutely apparent in the quality of my work. I'll sacrifice the numbers for what makes me really happy any day.

How do you feel about your own writing?

As someone who is typically extremely self-critical about everything I do: Writing is the one area where I am not. I'm a good writer, and I love to reread my own work.

I spent a long time practicing and writing privately and am only recently showing it to the world, and I think that makes all the difference in terms of my self-confidence.

[deskofmaji]

Knight Writers Assemble!

I think that was a catch phrase in the 80′s wasn’t it?  Possibly!

In any case I think a misconception happens occasionally. I ran into an old friend not to long ago.  A friend who knows of my habit of writing because frankly he’s read what I’ve written.  He read what I’ve written back in high school and believe me...  That is absolutely not my writing style anymore.  Like any art, if you go back and look at some of the first things you did, some of the first pictures you took, some of the first music you wrote, some of the first art that you created, you’re not going to be happy with it.  Writing is no different.  I can barely read some of the things I wrote back then.  It hurts my soul, it literally hurts my soul.  But that’s not the point.  That’s how we grow.  I told him some of the things I’ve been working on and he mentioned “Oh yeah, I remember you used to do that Knight Rider stuff...”  Then I told him some of the other things I’m working on and his reaction was more along “Oh you write real stuff now too?  That’s cool!”

So my reaction might have been to pull from my Southern ancestors before me, smile sweetly and say ‘Oh well bless your heart, you know everything I write is real.’

By the way if a southern woman ever says ‘bless your heart’ to you, it ain’t a good thing.  Unfortunately he may have been here through high school but he’s actually from California and has spent most of his adult life in California as well so he did not hear the tones of hell beasts that were released upon a simple phrase.

So let me assure my fellow writers who might not see what they do as ‘real.’   If you put words on a paper, in a computer, in a type writer, in a phone (I’m not sure how ya’ll do that one, you’re more determined than I)  You are working on something real.  If you can tell a story you can write a story, if you put that story down, you’re a writer.  If you’ve never written anything but Knight Rider Fanfiction, you’re still a writer.  If you created something, you’re a creator no matter what the format.  So don’t let them people who scoff and go “Fanfiction writer?  Really?”  Don’t let them get to you.  In fact, come join us.  Cause we happen to have fun and if you want to turn that talent into something original?  That’s how you learn.  I learned that I loved writing by writing Fanfiction.  That led me to a job at a Newspaper and its what keeps me going those nights I seriously don’t wanna work on my book.  But I’m gonna keep hacking’ away at that too because it’s a labor of love.  

But for all those who need somebody in your corner, we’re here! 

https://discord.gg/CCYTrG9W

We can help you critique, we can help hash out those ideas, we can help be a sounding board.  So come on down.  If you’ve got a story in ya, you can get it down on paper.  Especially if it means keeping a great show like Knight Rider alive so come on Knight Rider Fanfic Writers!

Hell if nothing else sometimes you just need to know if you can fit a body in the back of an ‘82 Trans-Am without Google judging you.  You can by the way, but we’ve decided it would be a pretty tight fit.  I’m a writer, I swear Google...

[kampfkuchen85]

Gossiping gone wrong

Characters: Shiba Taiju, reader

Warnings: none 

Note: English isn't my first language, so there could be mistakes. This is just a fanfic, so don't take it too serious :D

Masterlist

============================================

It was a lazy day at work, when you were sitting in front of your computer monitor, typing the settlements, cause it was nearly the end of the month. You were looking on your watch in hopes time would fly by faster, if you look more often. No, time was crawling like a slug. Just half an hour more and it's lunch break, you thought, holding your stomach. You were hungry.

The new trainees catched your attention. All three of them were standing in a corner of the office, all of them with a cup of coffee or tea in their hands- you couldn't tell because of the distance - and chatting lively. Don't they have a job to do? At first the conversation was about plans for the weekend, gossiping about other girls and their clothing- and hairstyle. You rolled your eyes. You aren't really interested in that kind of stuff, because you didn't knew any of them well enough. 

When the conversation was going another route, you were suddenly all ears. Men! They started to talk about men. This is a much more interesting topic. You thought that nothing was wrong with taking a five minute break - even when it was only 25 minutes left till lunch break - so you listened secretly.

A: “Have you seen him? He´s so fucking hot. I can´t wait to see him again. Have you seen his muscles? I wish I could touch them. I wish I could bury my face in his muscled chest."

The first girl apparently had a crush on this man, you guessed.

B: “Don´t tell me you´re talking about that ugly guy that owns the restaurant at the end of the street. Yeah, I´ve seen him a couple of times now too, but, nah, there are much better fish in the ocean. Not my type. In my eyes he´s fucking ugly. His nose looks like a coat hook. Yeah, he has big muscles, but I don't want to imagine touching him. That gives me goosebumps. He's always looking so grumpy.”

She made a disgusted face and was shaking to make her opinion clear.

C: “Who are you talking about? That tall guy with the prominent vein on his forehead?”

Now they had your complete attention. You knew that guy, but you made up your mind and said nothing, interested in what's coming next. Your coworker, sitting to your left, was aware of the conversation too and gave you a knowing look.

“I wish I could read your mind right now”, she whispered, leaning to you with a bright smile, bumping slighty with her elbow against your arm.

Yeah, she knows who they're talking about.

“Let them talk. I'm curious how this will end.”

A: “Should I ask for his number? Do you think I'm his type?”

She was running a hand through her long hair, trying to look 'pretty' with this action.

C: “Why not? Ask him. He can't do more than rejecting you, right?”

B: “And by the looks of him, he's definitely single. I mean, just look at him. Who could love such a face....only a mother."

She was sticking her tongue out to the trainee with the obvious crush.

Now YOU are the one with the prominent vein on their forehead.  What did you just hear? Who could love such a face? Excuse me? You were raging inside, but nothing was seen on the outside. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax your hands. You can't punch the trainees here in the office. They don't know who they're talking about.

As if on cue the said man appeared in the doorframe, looking slightly confused at the girls that were standing right there next to him as if they've never seen a man before, looking at him with open mouths.

“Huh?”, he was taking his view away from the three girls, going straight to your desk. “Are you done, honey?”

You gave him a big smile. “Yes, babe. Right on time. I'm starving”, grabbing your purse and your jacket in one swift move, then clinging on to his arm, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “Let's go.”

You couldn't help it, so you gave the girls a bright, fake smile. “See you after lunch, girls.” disappearing with your companion. 

Your coworker couldn't hold back her laugh. 

“Did none of you notice that you were talking about Shiba Taiju the whole time? Y/Ns husband?!”, wiping away her tears of laughter. “Man, I wish I could give you some encouraging words, but you fucked up.”

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Why not have the real thing? H.O 🔥

A/n: I saw someone say Harrison had a tumblr a few days back and it sparked this idea.. sooo :)

Word count: 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving) protected sex, reading fanfic 🙈 swearing

Masterlist

--

"Have you read any of these?!" Harrison demanded as he burst into your bedroom.

"Any of?" You asked, not bothering to look up from your computer.

"This," he told you, shoving his phone in your face.

"Haz," you groaned, grabbing the phone from him and scanning the screen. "Why- why are you reading this?" You laughed, glancing up to the see the blush on his face.

"Was watching an interview, celebs reading fanfic about themselves. I was curious," he responded.

"Haz, this is-"

"Steamy?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," you laughed. You scanned Through the words on his screen, impressed with how creative some of it was. "How much of this did you read?" You asked after reading a particularly dirty part.

"The whole thing," he admitted rubbing his neck. Your eyes shot up to him as a smirk grew on your face.

"Stop reading fanfiction about yourself, Osterfield," you laughed, handing him back his phone. He laughed as he walked out of your room shutting the door behind him.

The next few hours were spent catching up on past due schoolwork. When you finally finished you looked at your phone, seeing that it was nearly two in the morning. You shut your computer and readjusted yourself in bed, but the problem was, you weren't tired. Not even slightly. So being a bit curious, you pulled out your phone, finding the sight Haz had been on and typed in his name.

You were shocked at the amount of things that pulled up, but settled on clicking one that had an 18+ warning.

It started off pretty Mello, just him and the girl hanging out, but it quickly turned into something more much.

As your eyes scanned your screen reading the dirty text, you felt a knot beginning to grow, the words of the story obviously having some kind of effect on you.

You hadn't seen much action recently, being so busy with school and work, you never really found the time for extracurricular activities, but luckily for you, you had purchased a friend to help you in this particular situation.

You leaned over fishing in the drawer of your nightstand and pulling out the little purple vibrater. It was late enough there was so no way Harrison would still be awake, and the buzzing that the toy provided was fairly quiet. So shimmying out of your clothes you grabbed your phone in one hand and angled the toy onto your heat with the other.

Clicking it on, you started with just rubbing it lightly along your slit, focusing on your clit as you continued to read the story.

You let the vibration from the toy loosen you up before pushing it slowly in, eliciting a slight moan from your mouth, the story was getting even more heated now.

"Hey y/n you up?" Harrison asked, busting through the door. You jumped, dropping your phone and quickly shutting the vibrator off.

"Fucking Christ Harrison, do you ever knock?" You demanded, holding your blanket tightly against your naked body.

"Sorry, though I heard you say my name," he told you.

You froze, had you moaned out his name? Your face reddened as you saw Harrisons scanning your room, glancing at the pile of clothes on the floor and then to your phone, who's screen was still lit. He bent down, picking it up, and scanning the screen. You watched as the smirk grew across his face.

"He ran his fingers up her thighs, pushing them farther apart as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. 'you ready for me, my little slut' he asked in a husky voice before shoving two fingers into her aching pussy, making her squeel in pleasure, she always did have a thing about his hands, and him fucking her with them was a dream" he read out loud.

You stared at him with your mouth wide open, as he continued to scan the screen, scrolling down farther. "'Get on all fours for me princess so daddy can have his way with you,' Ok, first of all I would never refer to myself as daddy," he laughed. You chuckled. "Whatcha been up to here?" He asked, clicking your phone screen off, and focusing all his attention on you.

"Nothing," you squeaked, a clear admission of guilt .

"Nothing, huh?" He took a step towards your bed before bending down and grabbed your lacy panties from the floor, and held them up to you. "Sure about that?" He asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

You snatched them from his hand. "Go away Haz," you groaned.

"You know," he began as he sat down on the edge of the bed, "you don't have to read this stuff, you could just have the real thing," your jaw dropped at the words that had left his mouth. Had he really just said that to you. Was he suggesting you and him? He put his hand on your leg that was covered by the blanket. "If I'm being honest with you, I was just doing the same thing, so you'd be doing me a favor too," he admitted.

"Haz," you whispered, not sure about what he was suggesting.

"Come on, in those stories when they catch each other masterbating, they just join each other, makes it more fun," he winked, making you chuckle.

"Wouldn't it be weird?" You asked, feeling shy.

"You don't want to be daddy's little slut'?" He asked, making you burst into laughter. You threw your head back into your pillow and buried your face in your hands as you laughed at how cringe your roommate could be. You moved your hands to see Harrisons face above yours. "What do you say y/n? Want to be daddy's little slut' for the night?" He asked.

"Not if you keep saying that," you giggled. His eyebrows raised.

"Was that a yes? You have to actually say yes darling," he told you, going completely serious.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Thank fucking god," he mumbled before crashing his lips into yours. The thing about Haz was that you had liked him for years, but you would never admit that to him. You reached up grabbing onto his blond hair and pulling him more into you, deepening the kiss. He moved himself so that he was hovering above you now. "You naked under that blanket?" He asked between kisses.

"Mmm," you hummed in response.

"Should I be naked to?" He wondered.

"Haz," you laughed sitting up, "you always talk this much?"

"I'm nervous, I don't want to disappoint you," he admitted.

You pushed him back slightly so he was back in a sitting position and moved, letting the blanket fall, exposing your body. You heard him take a deep breath in. As his hands reached out grabbing your hips.

"You like what you see?" You asked. A sudden shyness washing over you.

"Darling, your fucking perfect," he whispered, pulling you towards him. You let him pull you on his lap so you were straddling him as he ran his hands from your ass to your chest, caressing your breasts. "I've been missing out," he mumbled as he leaned forward, taking one of your hardened buds between his lips. You gasped at the sensation, grabbing at his hair and pulling it gently, making him moan out.

"You like that?" You asked, tugging it again, making another moan leave his mouth. You could feel him growing beneath you, and knowing you were making him feel some type of way was turning you on even more.

"Lay down, gotta- to much clothes" he mumbled into your chest. You slid back laying back down onto the pillows and watched as he got up pulling his shirt over his head with one hand. He tossed it towards you and winked.

"Oh my god Osterfield," you groaned, throwing it back at him. He chuckled as he tried to pull the sweats down his legs, but ended up getting caught and falling to the floor. "Whatcha doing down there bub?" You asked as you leaned over looking at him laying on the floor in defeat.

"Bout to be doing you," he said as he reached out, grabbing you and pulling you down.

"Harrison," you giggled as you fell to the floor, he rolled you onto your back on the plush rug.

"You're beautiful you know," he whispered, leaning down and kissing your neck gently, before peppering kisses down the entirety of your chest and then moving to your thighs. "Can I?" He asked as he practically laid between your legs.

"Please," you begged. He dipped his head down, flattening his tongue and licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, teasing at your nub with the tip of his tongue.

"So fucking sweet," he moaned, the vibration making you arch your back as he continued his feat. He worked you with his tongue, for a bit, and then you felt his fingers run up our thigh and begin to tease at your entrance. One thing most of those stories had had in common were the appeal of his hands, and dear God were they right. He slowly pushed a finger in, finding your g-spot instantly.

"Dear fucking god," you moaned as your back arched from the ground.

"Found it," he chuckled, continuing like he was on a mission. You felt yourself beginning to lose it.

"Haz," you moaned out as your fingers found his hair pulling gently, making him moan into your core, which is what pushed you over the edge. He continued his work until your legs quit shaking. pushing himself up and over you he brought his lips to yours.

"Well?" He asked.

"Why have we never done that before?" You asked, still dazed from your orgasm.

"We can make up for lost time darling, don't you worry," he whispered as he pressed kisses beneath your ear. "You got a-"

"Top drawer," you instructed, pointing to the nightstand.

He pushed himself up onto his knees and leaned over to rummage around your drawer looking for a little foil packet.

You reached out grabbing his hard length in your small hand. He let out a groan and shot you a cheeky grin. "Want me to stop?" You asked him.

"Fuck no I don't," he told you. You shimmied your way so you were right in front of him, and began to press kisses to his shaft, before moving to the tip and taking it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. "Fuck," he groaned, grabbing your hair. You began to Bob your head up and down, taking what you could of his length into your mouth, and what you couldn't, you used your hand to pump.

You felt the knot growing in your core again as you had Harrison moaning and groaning. "Want to be inside you," he told you. You let go of his length and looked up at him through your lashes, and grinned.

"Whatever daddy wants," you teased. Making him laugh.

"Oh my god, nooo!" He groaned. He brought the packet to his mouth, ripping it and then rolling it over himself, taking himself in his hand as you laid back onto the floor. He positioned himself above you, as he ran his leng along the entirety of your slit, toying with your nub, making you moan. He moved back down pushing in slowly until he bottomed out.

"You're so tight," he groaned, throwing his head back before he started to move slowly. He leaned up, grabbing one of your legs and throwing it on his shoulder, before beginning to thrust faster. The angle provided from this position had him hitting deep inside of you, brushing your g-spot with ease.

"Fuck haz, not gonna last," you moaned out. He brought his hand in between your body's finding your nub with his thumb and rubbing it vigorously.

"Come on darling, give me another," he cooed as he pounded into you. You brought your hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud, but then Harrison moved it away. "I want to hear you," he moaned.

"Fucking hell Haz," you let out, as your back arched off the floor, nearing your second orgasm. He quickened his movements of both this hips and his thumb. "Oh Harrison, fuck me," you groaned.

"I'm trying darling," he chuckled. You wanted to roll your eyes, call him an idiot, scold him for joking, anything. But then he kissed your calf, and your not sure why that pushed you so far over, but you clenched around him, with one lase loud moan of "oh Harrison," he moved a few more times, as his thrusts became sloppy and with a grunt you felt him still, finishing into the condom.

He dropped to the floor beside you and laid down, pulling the blanket from your bed to cover your naked bodies. "You thought you would disappoint me?" You asked.

"Wasn't sure," he laughed.

"Well, not to inflate your ego, but, you just took the books for the best shag of my life," you told him. He leaned over pressing his lips to yours, but this was more than a lust filled kiss. It was soft and passionate. You continued to kiss for what felt like hours, lost in his lips and tangled with his body.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, "next time will be better, when I'm not so nervous," he whispered.

"Next time?" You asked, you couldn't even hide the smile on your face.

"I have to confess something," he whispered. You knew what he was going to say before he could even muster the courage to say the words.

"Me too," you whispered, pressing your lips to his, "have for a while," you said against his mouth.

"Liked me?" He asked, pulling away, a shocked look on his face.

"Mhm" you hummed.

"Shit, should have just told me, could have been doing this all the time," he chuckled, reconnecting your lips.

You fell asleep tangled in each other's bodies. Both tired from the activities you had previously partaken in.

You woke up to the sound of the door shutting and bags dropping to the floor. "Harrison?" Tom's voice called out.

"Shit," you muttered, shaking Harrison.

"Hmm?" He groaned.

"Tom and Harry just got home, get up," you instructed. He jumped up, still half asleep. You searched the floor finding a shirt and pulling it over your head, while Haz did the same. You stood up pulling on a pair of pants, looking down you realized you had Haz's clothes on. You looked over to Harrison who had his boxers on and had managed to put your shirt on in his sleepy daze.

"I don't think this is-"

"It's not," you giggled.

Your door swung open, and Harry stood shocked in the doorway.

"Uh, what did I just walk into?" He asked, eyes darting between you and Harrison.

Tom walked up behind him, brows furrowing. "Are you wearing y/n's shirt?" He asked Haz.

Harrison looked down, and then looked back up. "Yeah so, we don't do toxic masculinity in this house, I can wear her clothes if I feel like it," he said proudly. You couldn't help but laugh.

"You two are shagging now?" Harry asked.

"It's about time, the tension between you was getting unbearable," Tom chuckled.

"Tension?" You demanded.

"Oh yes, tension," harry confirmed. You looked over to Harrison who just shrugged. Tom and Harry just laughed walking away from the door.

"Knock next time Harry, don't want you to see something that might scar you," you called after them.

"Gross!" He yelled back

[indies--blog]

[3:38 a.m.]

pairing: san x seosang

top: san

bottom: yeosang

genre: smut

words: 1463

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

yeosang mumbled to himself while staring at his computer screen. he took a quick sip of his cappuccino and shook his head.

"nope. it doesn't sound genuine enough," he sighed in disbelief and tapped the backspace key a few times to clear out the words he had typed.

waking up at three in the morning with a house full of seven crack heads is the worst decision yeosang has ever made. he would sit in his room writing a fanfic about two male kpop idols being a couple. he wouldn't talk about it to anyone. not even to wooyoung, his roommate.

the blonde yawned out of boredom and being tired and lightly scratched his cheek. looked at the time on the corner of his computer screen.

"three thirty-eight... and i still haven't posted anything in my writing account for a month, except for silly life updates," yeosang complained then closed his laptop and set it under his bed.

"i'm going to grab something to eat really quick. i'm hungry. maybe get another cup of cappuccino while i'm at it."

he quietly left the room and tip-toed to the kitchen. once yeosang made it there, he opened the cabinet of snacks and grabbed his two packs of dried, sea salted seaweed. he opened the other cabinet that was filled with coffee mugs of all kind. some being LGBT and BT21.

yeosang grabbed the shooky mug and set it on the kitchen counter. he opened the bin of coffee beans and poured a cup into the coffee machine, thankful that it wasn't empty. seonghwa and mingi went out grocery shopping recently and hongjoong, san, and wooyoung restocked everything after their necessary walmart run.

while turning on the grinding button, he heard soft taps from the hallway. a tired groaned followed by it.

"sangie," a voice groaned, sounding a little annoyed from the coffee machine being on, "we can't have coffee until six. what are you doing up at this time?"

yeosang looked over his shoulder to san. san was his best friend for five years and his lover for six months. the two met in high school months before graduation and college orientation. san was never the one to make fun of yeosang, unless he's done something weird or being effortlessly funny towards the roommates, and he can let someone be themselves.

he cleared his throat and added water to the boiling water kettle, making a cup for himself.

"i can't sleep. once i'm up, i have to do something like making coffee," the blonde simply answered, cautiously pouring water into the grinded coffee and mixing it with a spoon.

"it's been like for years. i tried counting sheep, but i am an adult. none of that crap works unless it's booze."

san let out a quiet chuckle and took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"well, you have me. you could've just asked for some cuddles. we all know you don't drink. you're a light weight for fuck sakes," he reminded.

"you never had a drink before. not even a fake daiquiri."

"and i don't plan to any time soon. i will forever be an uber to all of you drinkers, including jongho," the older added then stretched and rolled his shoulders while the coffee was brewing into the coffee jar.

"ouch. that hurts my feelings, sangie," san teased, getting up from the stool and walking over to the male. he circled his arms on yeosang's waist and swayed him to side to side, smiling fondly.

a deep red blush covered yeosang's face. he could feel one of san's hands going under his shirt, and his thumb gently pressed against yeosang's nipple, which caused him to let out a soft gasp and closed his eyes.

"s-san, baby, what're you — w-we can't. not right n-now," he whispered helplessly while san placed soft kisses on his neck and shoulder.

"please, yeosang. it's been weeks that we've done it. you've been avoiding me for too long, baby," the other whispered back.

the black and red haired male turned off the coffee machine and pressed his body against yeosang, his chest touching his back as his other hand pulled yeosang's pink lace panties down to his lower thighs. san scooped him up and took him to his bedroom, his foot pushing the door closed once they were in.

the two began making out passionately. yeosang's back against the wall while san held his wrists pin above his head with hand. yeosang moaned when felt precum dripping out of his tip.

"sannie, please, please," he whispered through the kiss as san pulled away to take yeosang's shirt off and cover his chest with hickeys and bites.

"come on, bunny. speak to me. what do you want me to do?"

yeosang felt chills going down on his back from the pet name. he has always been san's bunny. he was hardly a brat in the bed, unless he was impatient with the teasing.

"touch me, please. i need you inside me, san," he begged, rolling his hips against his boyfriend's.

"can i ride you, please? i've been good all day."

san groaned softly from the friction and nodded his head as his reply. how could he say no to an idea like that? what yeosang wants is what yeosang gets.

the couple pulled away and lied down on the bed. yeosang hurriedly took off san's sweatpants and boxers and handed him the condom. he stood on his patiently while san tore the package with his teeth and carefully slipped on the condom.

"are you prepped, bunny," he asked while yeosang sat on his lap and placed his hands on san's chest, straddling him.

"yes, i am. only for you, san."

"good job, bun. you're going to take my cock so well. you won't be walking for a week," san praised, making yeosang bite on his bottom at the idea.

yeosang positioned his hole to san's big cock and slowly slid down, letting out a broken moan. his nails dug onto san's skin while adjusting to his size. san held his waist and groaned at the friction.

maybe san was right. no. he was definitely. yeosang has been avoiding his and san's sexual needs for too long. all the working and errand runnings have took up so much of their time. they'll have to make it up by this and possibly going to breakfast and dinner.

"so tight ~ start moving, babe ~"

and yeosang did what he was told. he rode and bounced on san's cock like there was no tomorrow. the cal king size mattress squeaked, and head board thud against the wall over and over.

the two men were a hot mess. both of their sweaty bodies grinding up against each other, slobbily kissing and leaving marks on their skin that wouldn't leave in a day or two. san flipped yeosang and thrusted deeper inside him. his cock going in and out of yeosang's turning him on more and more till san hit yeosang's prostate.

"right there! right there, san! oh fuck~ 'm cumming," yeosang screamed in pure bliss, close to his orgasm.

a knot form inside san's stomach, and his thrusts became sloppy after giving yeosang permission. he came on his chest and stomach, tears staining the bed sheets. he spasm and panted softly. san pulled out and came into the condom.

"fuck... that was so great, honey. you did so well. let's get cleaned up before hyung catches us."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

san and yeosang slept in that morning, cuddling under the sheets and wearing new pajamas. the sun's ray seeped through the curtains. yeosang groggily opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep off his eyes. his brown orbs stared at san, who was peacefully asleep and had his arms on his waist.

"such a cutie," he whispered and heard a knock on the door.

yeosang slipped out of san's arms and stretched and cracked his knuckles. he walked to the door and opened it just to see jongho with a smug smirk.

"you forgot these panties, hyung," the youngest teased, holding the evidence in a plastic bag.

"i don't know if you know, but i'll say once for you horn dogs. these walls can talk. we heard every little thing."

yeosang blushed in embarrassment and sucked in his teeth. he grabbed his panties and closed the door. he rolled his eyes and turned to see san waking up and getting out of the bed.

"was that jongho? that little shit," san mumbled and sighed.

"where should we go for breakfast, bunny? it's on me today. "

"it doesn't matter. i just wanna spend time with you this week and next. forever actually."

[siren-dragon]

After Eight -- The Cat Returns fanfic:

So... I had a Ghibli movie marathon recently and remembered my old childhood OTP of Haru and the Baron. Then I read a few fanfics by @catsafarithewriter and landed in another fandom abyss, lol. And that later spawned this au one-shot from a prompt I read. Anyway, this is my first time publishing anything for another fandom so hopefully it’s good. Enjoy! ^_^

AO3 story link

Human AU -- “I need to finish my term paper and you’re the only 24-hour internet cafe open. Help me.”

===========================================================

The front door of their small flat closed with a soft click as Haru shrugged her backpack higher onto her shoulder and soon hurried down the corridor and out onto the streets with a determined step. To be fair, Hiromi and Tsuge did try their best to accommodate her as she stared helplessly at her computer screen within her bedroom while they giggled and chatted on the sofa. And though Haru managed to continue through her term paper despite the late hour; her concentration quickly began to wane while the tell-tale sounds of snogging managed to reach her ears despite the closed bedroom doors. So, she rather quickly decided to pack up her supplies and laptop, stuff them into her school bag, and exit the flat in an attempt to find somewhere quiet.

Of course, she didn’t really consider the fact that a) it was 10 in the evening on a Friday and b) she would need wifi if she were going to try and continue her paper.

“There has to be somewhere open…” she groaned, having passed another bar filled with her fellow college students enjoying the beginning of their weekend. “Why are there so many bars everywhere?!”

After traversing the streets for a good 20 minutes, all the while debating if she could chance stealing the wifi from a late-night McDonalds, the brunette soon found herself pausing to stare at the building her feet seemed to have led her to. It was a rather quaint building, reminiscent of European cafes with it’s white and green paint and black sunshade. Written beside the glass and wooden doors was a simple plaque with the words The Cat Bureau scrawled across in dark lettering. However, it was the petite sticker smacked boldly on the corner of one of the windows with a drawing of a cat on a laptop reading “free wifi” that nearly made Haru weep tears of joy.

“Oh, thank God; an internet café!” she beamed with delight before hurrying inside.

If she thought the outside was charming, the interior was spectacular. Alongside the windows were various tables with off-set white tablecloths and a small flower vase as a centerpiece, while opposite sat a wrap-around wooden bar complete with stools. The entire room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the hanging antique light fixtures and Haru couldn’t help but be captured by the small café. “Wow, this place is beautiful…”

“You are too kind Miss,” an accented voice chimed, causing her to swivel to the source.

Standing behind the countertop was a man, perhaps a few years older than Haru herself, offering her a kind smile with a rag in hand. Though Haru was practically half-asleep due to exhaustion and the creeping energy withdrawals her last study-snack tried to prevent, even she couldn’t deny how attractive the man was. Slightly tousled tawny locks and vivid green eyes stared back at her with an intensity that caused her face to take a distinct pink tint. His attire was a bit formal, what with the crimson vest and collared shirt with a bowtie- though his black apron and rolled sleeves didn’t undercut the professional appearance.

“Erm, I’m sorry- were you closing soon? I can leave if you want. It’s just that I saw you had free wifi and I needed a space where I could finish my term paper…”

The man gave a gentle laugh, “no worries Miss, this is a 24-hour café; stay as long as you like. The Bureau doesn’t often receive customers on Friday evenings, what with many preferring venues that serve alcohol.”

Haru grinned, “you’re a life saver. And this place, I’ve never seen such an amazing café before.”

“Thank you, and please sit wherever you like. Make yourself at home. Is there anything you would perhaps like to order?”

Taking a spot at one of the tables near the window, Haru immediately glanced at the menu resting upon the table, looking over the pamphlet for something cheap that would keep her awake. She was rather impressed by the modest selection- ranging from teas and beverages to cakes, sandwiches, and even a few pastries. “I’ll just have a cup of the house blend tea, please.”

The man smiled, “as you wish.”

If the food wasn’t going to bring her back here, the charming waiter certainly was- though as quickly as the thought crossed her mind Haru prayed her internal feelings didn’t make themselves known with the reddening of her face.

Quickly pulling out her laptop and research materials, in an attempt to finish her work and not stare at the handsome waiter, Haru set to work on trying to finish her paper. The quiet atmosphere gave a rather calm and ideal setting, allowing the brunette student’s work to continue at a steady pace. On occasion Haru would steal a glance to the waiter as he set about making her order, humming a gentle tune under his breath before returning to her paper. It was only when the cup and teapot was set gently beside her did Haru startle from her concentration while another plate- this one bearing a slice of angel food cake with whip cream and strawberries found it’s place beside her tea cup.

“Oh! Um, but I didn’t order-“

“On the house,” the man smoothly replied. “Besides, nothing goes better with tea than some angel food cake.”

Haru giggled, saving her work before closing the laptop and setting it aside for the meanwhile. “Thank you very much.” Pour a dash of milk into the cup, she raised it for a tentative sip and blinked in surprise. “Woah, that’s got to be the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“You flatter me with your kind words, Miss.”

“Wait, did you make this from scratch?”

The waiter laughed, “indeed I did. That’s my own personal blend, though it tends to be a little different each time so I’m afraid I can’t guarantee the taste.”

“Well, it’s certainly better than the school’s local Starbucks.” Haru complimented, making the man grin. “Did you make the cake as well?”

“Unfortunately, no. While I am no stranger to the kitchen, that particular cake was made by our resident chef Muta. He has a penchant for sweets which has earned quite a following from the locals.”

“I don’t blame them, if the cakes are as good as the tea- I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere else.”

This time the man gave a teasing smirk, “and here I thought it was the free wifi drawing in customers.”

Haru laughed, “well, it certainly did help. I’d take a quiet café with wonderful tea over my small flat and a roommate making out with her boyfriend any day.”

“Well, that certainly would cause a bit of a distraction to a working student. If that’s the case, feel free to stay as long as you like Miss.”

“Haru,” she answered back. “My name, it’s Haru.”

He gave her a soft smile that made Haru’s stomach do nervous flips as bright green eyes met her own warm caramel irises. “Humbert von Gikkingen, at your service but please; call me Baron.”

Now it was Haru’s turn to give a small smirk. “So, Baron… this teapot looks like there is enough for another cup or two. Maybe, you would like to share it?”

This time it was Baron’s turn to flush the faintest pink before giving a rather delighted grin and retrieving another cup from behind the counter and taking the seat across from her. “I would be honored. After all, nothing makes a cup of tea better than sharing it with a rather fetching young woman.”

If Haru’s face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now- and judging from the slight mirth dancing in Baron’s eyes, the warmth of her face was easy to spot.

 =========================================================

“I didn’t even know we had a 24-hour internet café near the campus.” Hiromi commented in confusion, “must have been nice since you didn’t come back till after midnight.”

“Hey, I was giving you and Tsuge some space so I could work on my paper.”

Hiromi grinned, “uh huh, then why were you frantically typing this morning in an attempt to finish it? Maybe you got distracted on your little night excursion.”

“Yes, by tea and cake.” Haru answered dryly, trying to keep calm and prevent a tell-tale blush to creep up her face. “Trust me Hiromi, you’ll love the place.”

“Alright Haru, I- hey is this the place?”

The two girls stopped in front of the familiar white and green painted café, same black sunshade up though this time there were a few tables set up outside and a few more customers than the previous night. However, this time, a waitress with white-blonde hair and a pink ribbon around her neck was serving customers outside while inside a tall and thin black-haired man clad in the similar formal attire Baron wore yesterday tend to the waiting patrons. Yet she couldn’t hide the small frown at the lack of Baron’s presence, wondering if perhaps he only covered the evening shift.

It was then did she finally hear Hiromi’s laughter, when the chestnut-haired brunette pointed to a sign on the door. “Haru, you did read the sign before you went in this place last night, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

She merely silently pointed to the hours of operation, which clearly stated that the café was only open from 09:00 AM – 10:00 PM, with it opening later in the morning on Sundays. Haru felt her jaw drop slightly as her face turned cherry red while Hiromi merely laughed louder.

Of course, she did get a slight just desserts when the two friends were seated inside and Haru noticed Baron nearly fly out of the kitchen, hastily tying his black apron before catching her gaze. The black-haired waiter was whispering frantically to him while Baron looked to be offering some polite apology. Though when he caught Haru’s eye he couldn’t help the knowing smile on his face while Haru gave a rather sheepish look as he approached the table to take their order.

“Welcome back, Miss Haru. I hope your paper was a success.”

“Yeah, it really was…. Especially after the extra 2 ½ hours I worked on it last night.” She said with an embarrassed groan. “I am so sorry for butting into your café last night. If I knew you were closed I would have left and-“

“Think nothing of it, you needed somewhere to work and I was happy to help.” Baron replied with a kind, though slightly tired smile from the previous evenings unintentional long shift. “Perhaps… I could suggest another cup of our house blend in the name of bygones?”

Haru gave a shy smile, “yes please.”

“Make it two,” Hiromi added. “And whatever pastry you would recommend.”

“Certainly. I shall return momentarily, ladies.”

As Baron returned to the counter, Hiromi waited perhaps 2.1 seconds before whirling upon Haru with a large grin reminiscent of a satisfied shark. “Do you think he’ll write his number on the napkin for you to take home?”

While Haru didn’t make a point of causing scenes in public places, she couldn’t help flicking a sugar cubes at her friend’s laughing face. Though judging from the laughter dancing in Baron’s vibrant emerald eyes and the tint of pink dusting his cheeks, she wouldn’t be complaining if that was the case.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with bugs

bugs has 40 stories at Gossamer. They mostly focus on Mulder and Scully, but there are also some goodies featuring Reyes and Doggett. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her fics here before, including The Link. She also co-ran WhyIncision, a fun, smart X-Files mailing list that dissected fics like a book club. Big thanks to bugs for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Not really. While I was still in high school, I started watching the then 20 year old OG Star Trek and became a Trekkie of a sort. Starlog magazine, James Blish novels and the other novelizations, and while I was working as a library page, I found fanfiction one day among the periodicals.  Who knows how fanfiction ended up as part of a library's materials, but there it was, this tattered mimeographed collection. The fic that had the most impact on me was one where Nurse Chapel wrestled a giant alien snake to save Spock's life.

So when I got into XF, one of the first things I did was look for fanfic, knowing somewhere out there, Scully was wrestling a big snake for Mulder.

That experience showed me the power of fandom, that even without the internet, how the second generation of Trekkies joined the original group to advocate for the franchise to be revived. I remember sitting in the theater for that first awful Star Trek movie, choked up with what we'd done.

Tragic backstory way to say, no I'm not surprised that a well-produced show like XF would beget future generations of fans, and that they'd be chewing their way through the fanfic archives still being maintained.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I'm so grateful to the fandom. Literally formed the life I have today through the confidence it gave me. Many of my friends to this day are 'pocket friends' from the various fandoms I've been in, and the longest friendships were formed in XF. I learned how to write, both technically and finding my voice. I learned how to think analytically, more than any college courses.

The two most important things I took away were, write for yourself first and always, and shit ain't that damn important. In the end, it's a TV show.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

YIKES.  I came in at the Fight the Future summer hiatus, so the waning days of ATXC, then we moved to mailing lists, right?  Yahoo Groups was in there somewhere. Finally message boards. Live Journal rose up at the end of the run which began to fragment the fandom even before the show ended, along with the migration off our individual websites to Archive of Our Own, fanfiction.net and such. We went from group discussion platforms to 'come look at my blog for my thoughts'. It was different and I didn't particularly like it, but in the end, when I came back to fandom for a new show....I had to get a Live Journal. That's the most interesting part of fandom, that a platform doesn't mold a fandom; we use the platform and when it's no longer useful to us, we abandon it en mass.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I've touched on that a bit, but to elaborate, I'm glad I started in the XF fandom. It had such high standards and I hope that I maintain those standards for myself to this day. These days, I don't usually have a beta reader, but that took a couple hundred posted fics to get to that point.

Having seen the same exact flamewars and divides and squabbles over and over, seen how the taste of 'fame' can drive someone to be rather unpleasant, has given me a much more 'whatever' attitude. It's sort of comforting when joining a new fandom to know what's going to happen next in its natural progression.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

There's a meme "I have a type," and XF definitely had that type, but it just took me a while to get there. I was away at college then working on the road when the show started, and wasn't home on Friday nights most of the year. My mother has always been a big sci-fi fan, so she actually was watching before me. I don't like scary things, and would leave the room if it was on when I'd visit her. I was home for Christmas when Christmas Carol/Emily aired and I remember standing tentatively just inside the room so I could flee if necessary, and watched Scully go through the wringer, and ranting, "What the hell is this? Why are they putting that poor woman through this!?" I also saw how the show was doing the big ship tease, and I was like, uh, I don't have time for this. Even by my 20's, I'd been done wrong by so many shows that I'd become bitter. But the first film trailers suggested they were actually going from UST to RST, so I figured I could give 2 hours of my time for that.  And yeah...but I was hooked, and WENT TO BLOCKBUSTER AND RENTED THE VHS TAPES TO CATCH UP....this interview is making me feel very old.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I've always been a shipper and have no shame in that, as I think forming and maintaining a relationship is the most conflict-ridden enterprise humans can attempt, and thus is the most challenging thing to write about. Like many fanfic writers, I'd 'told stories in my head' ever since I can remember about the characters from books, shows and movies. It was just a matter of then writing it down for the first time.

After I was sucked into the show and it was still the summer hiatus, I got on my first computer, dialed up that screeching modem, and went on Netscape to search for that fanfic I knew had to be out there from my Trek experience a decade ago. Like many people, after inhaling much of the delicious fics out there, I decided I can do that. I'm someone who's very methodical on my approach to something new, so I studied what worked/what didn't, the expected formatting, got a sense of the culture I was entering, acquired a critical beta reader, so when I actually submitted the first chapter to AXTC, I was calm and confident.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I watch from the sidelines, with a vague little smile on my lips.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Yes, I have. Battlestar Galactica had a lot of Philes, but it was still a big step away from the very organized fandom in X-Files. Plus, with so many characters, there could be lots of little groups focused on their favorites. Same in the Downton Abbey fandom. Just a different dynamic.

On the other end of the spectrum, one of my most popular fics is in the Silence of the Lambs fandom which I've never been involved with any other fans or their fandom, if it exists. It just sits out there on fanfiction.net and chugs along with the reads. My current fandom is The Doctor Blake Mysteries which is tiny but mighty--the saying is, we're six people and a shoelace. It's shown me that it's not the size, not the 'fame' possible, but the passion that makes a fandom.

Sadly, at least at this time, I don't think there will ever be an experience like The X-Files heyday. It was such a golden moment of the rise of internet and home computer use by the general public, a large generation of educated women having the time to participate in fandom, and there wasn't the amount of 'noise' that is distracting us all now. I'm so glad that you're doing this exercise to record our thoughts. We've already lost so many of the OG folks. My first beta, Janet Caires-Lesgold; Trixie, way too young; Shari, also too young; Brandon D Ray, leaving his family too soon; and many more.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 9, 2021)

[enihk-writes]

fandom list

i’ve been trying to get back into writing but i don’t have the motivation to write a full length 5k oneshot on tumblr, i prefer to do those over on my AO3. it’s a shame that i’ve never once completed any of the fanfics i set out to write but i hope to start changing that.

there are a few fandoms i have been into lately, and that i am willing to write fluff/angst/character analysis SFW fics for. i just want to let you know i am no longer as willing to write explicit smut, however things like aftercare/morning after requests are still alright. i also do not mind going out of my comfort zone and try my hand at the DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT type of requests, but if i do not write them i suppose i was a little uncomfortable with those. i might not have a schedule for updates or whatever but i will try to squeeze whatever i can in between because i love writing and i want to practice my skills. however, i hope yall don’t mind that my uni work still comes first.

fandoms i am writing for and characters i am EXTRA willing to write for:

JJK [no thoughts head empty just yuta okkotsu. and maki ofc why would i not fall in love with her? im the biggest pick-me for her and her only]

Tokyo Revengers [i’m fine with everyone but mikey/baji angst no comfort? i have a least 654265565656 ideas for them in my brain, bouncing off the corners like a 90s windows computer screensaver. also bonten kakucho is so fine and for what. for what ken? to make me cry and throw up? to simp and be down bad horrendous?]

TBHK/ JSHK [family man minamoto teru has my heart i understand nene]

Genshin Impact [i have never simped for an entire franchise more then i have for all the characters in genshin. especially for albedo and kazuha]

Trash of the Count’s Family [big cale brainrot, my god this man is fine as hell— might be inaccurate for this one because i only have read the manhwa so far and i heard the novel has more stuff so might get into that if i have more time during semester break]

Owari no Seraph [is this fandom still alive? are we doing ok? if we are, hi this is a long time shinya simp since what? i was 13? and no i have yet to catch up to the recent chapters, let me know if anything happens to my boy.]

Ensemble Stars [when i started this game i had my national exams the next day, i did not fail but i also did not get into junior college and now i am older then the main cast. i will write for anyone honestly, but i only recently gotten back into the fandom and now all the story translations on wiki are gone so uh....]

Kimetsu no Yaiba [if you were with me i since the start of this blog, you will know how down bad i am for sanemi, so let’s pretend that didn’t happen]

Cookie Run [if you are shameless enough i guess]

NEW ADDITIONS:

Honkai Star Rail [good lord above i can’t stop thing abt jing yuan jing yuan jing yuan jing yuan jing yuan jing yu-]

Return of Mount Hua / Return of the Blossoming Blade [baek cheon the man that you are!!!! cheong myeong!!!! my pookies!!!!]

Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint [wow it changed my life fr]

Alchemy Stars [look,,, i am an old man dick-rider]

Touken Ranbu [welcome back to sword hell bitches]

Return of the Mad Demon [new manhua new me, new men to peg,,, looking at lee jaha in particular.....]

Heavenly Grand Archive’s Young Master [beom hang kinda,,,,]

Academy’s Undercover Professor [i love me a pop-culture nerd, ludger the man you ARE!!]

Heavenly Sword’s Grand Saga [i have to tell you,, i got a soft spot for thug-ish characters]

Star Instructor, Master Baek [smiling, giggling,, kicking my feet whenever  baek suryong appears on the screen]

[whirlybirdwhat]

Heyo~ I just wanted to say that your fanfics have inspired me to write my owns, they're so good!!

But my writing isn't nearly as good, do you have any advices for this starting writer? <3

oh my gosh anon !!!!!! im ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ !! im so glad they inspire you, and I wish you all the best on your writing!!! you got this, and please link them if/when you post!!!! 👀👀👀

as for advice - i got a few things!

first off, your writing is yours, and - especially in fic - there isn't necessarily a type of 'good' writing, just different skill sets! for instance, i find that my weak point is dialogue, while im great at worldbuilding + emotions. another writer might be the opposite, but it doesn't mean my writing is 'bad' and theirs is 'good' or the reverse, simply that we have different strengths! as you grow as a writer, you will find your strengths and learn to grow them, and your weak points! there is truly no standard, so don't put yourself down!!

moving on to more advice however - (EDIT: theres a tldr at the bottom because sorry, i rambled a bit!!)

1. write. it doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter when, it doesn't matter how! I have written fics on sticky notes in the middle of class (whiskey peak chapter of esom) on discord in the span of a few hours (make a choice (turncoat hero)) and in my notes apps (the ace/yamato fic i posted)!! if you learn to write anywhere you please, this will keep ideas from leaving your mind, and allow you to get into the zone that there doesn't have to be a set time to write!

2. length never matters for a fic. If 100 words is all it takes to write what you want to write, then 100 words is all it takes! don't let the general adoration for long fics to scare you off from writing, and write what you're comfortable with. I know writers who only write chapter fics, and writers who will only write one shots (then there's me, who tries to do both at once lol.)

3. when i am lost with the plot of a fic, the first thing i do is draft an outline of what i want to happen next. this is just a simple bullet point outline, in the general fashion of, say

- luffy gets a different hat post pirate king

- monkey steals hat

- luffy calls for zoro

- zoro sleeping?? sanji kicks him then fight

- the monkey is revealed as the red haired pirates monkey

- shanks shows up "miss me anchor?" party time

brief, follows a simple set of actions, perhaps one or two lines that i thought of while writing, and gives me a skeleton to follow so that when i lose myself in a fic i know where i can go next. Some people find it useful to do this at the beginning with a super detailed plot, and others never write a outline at all! it depends again on how you grow as a writer, so don't be afraid to try different things out when you approach a fic

4. stuck on a part? writer block? can't focus? get up drink a glass of water, and get back to writing! i find this helps me get refocused on writing when i am stuck, a little body 'wake up' as you will.

5. never EVER delete a scene from a fic. never. NEVER. move that scene to another doc, put it in a 'scrapped writing' folder, idc, but never delete it entirely. it helps you grow as a writer, and you can always put the scene back/reword it, etc. i cannot count on my hands how many times i have reworked a previously scrapped portion of a fic and came out the better for it!

6. having multiple wips is okay!! celebrate it even!! i always have at least five docs for five separate fics up on my computer at all times so i can shuffle between them when writing and write what im inspire for in that moment. its okay if you never make headway on one of them, as long as the ideas keep flowing

7. want to get something out quick? word wars are your friend - set a timer for 15 minutes, and write as many words as you can. this is especially fun if you have someone doing it with you, so you can compare counts at the end and share your story!!

8. writing, like all art, takes time. and, generally, there is a chance you will write faster when you first set out to write then you will later, because later, you will be more conscious of your word choices and be more deliberate and careful in your plot, rather than just churning out works. It's okay if you don't churn out 5k a day - writing is not an obligation!

9. have. fun. im serious! write what you want to write, even if it seems no one will love it or like it or want to read it - write what brings you joy, what makes you smile, even if it's something that's been done a thousand times before!! this is what fic is, for your own personal enjoyment. Additionally, do not be discouraged if there's a low amount of reviews for something you put your heart and soul. it sucks ass, yes, (i have a couple fics i love which have only gotten like, a quarter of attention of some of my other fics) but ultimately, the idea you wrote down is one you want to see in the world!! it doesn't quite matter what anyone else likes.

10. grammarly, word counter, word, etc - anything with a spellcheck is your best friend, and will generally catch things you miss if you cant find someone to proofread for you. additionally, if you want to be more critical of your fic, look for friends tto give constructive critcism, but know that you absolutely do not have to accept it from any stranger online unless you asked specifically for it.

11. fanon is fanon and popular headcanons are popular headcanons and both are absolutely not canon. you do NOT have to follow it if you do not want to.

12. read!!! i read a lot of fic, a lot of published books, and each has something i really enjoy and apply to my own fics.

13. to reiterate again just... write. write and write and write. i have over 300k posted to ao3 rn, and more in my docs. you will not improve your writing to any standard that you set for yourself unless you write!! always practice!! learn from your mistakes!! grow!!! you will improve with time, i promise, just go out and write what makes you happy anon!!

tl;dr have fun, write a lot wherever and whenever, and write for yourself before anyone else. you will improve with time as a writer the more you practice, and it doesn't ever matter how long your work is.

if you want more specific advice on formatting fic/general rules/ your first time posting, feel free to send another ask!! but for now, i wish you the best of luck anon and a very 👀👀👀👀 at your future fics!!!

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 46: Martin

Having Melanie definitely helps, in ways Martin hasn’t been expecting.

In the first place, having someone new in the Archives who needs to learn the ropes—never mind that they’re still basically making it up as they go in a lot of ways—gives him a new project to focus on, and one that he doesn’t have to stress about hiding from Elias. He suspects Melanie catches on a lot quicker than she lets on, and really there’s not that much to pick up on, but she plays it a bit stupid and asks a lot of questions. On Thursday, when Elias is distracted by his weekly meeting with the library staff (which goes on longer now that Diana is gone, especially since he doesn’t seem to be telling them oh, yeah, she’s been dead for at least a year and got replaced by a monster and I let it happen to torture the Archivist), she points out that if he thinks they’re spending time trying to get her up to speed, he’ll leave them alone a bit longer. Martin isn’t sure about that, but he lets it go.

Besides that, while he doesn’t want to admit it aloud, Martin likes having someone around who’s more on his level. Melanie might have a degree, but it’s what a lot of the people up in the Library would have disparagingly called a “fluff” degree, one where she didn’t have to do the same level of intense research or the same types of papers. It means that, like Martin, she doesn’t have the same precision and academic style that Sasha and Tim do to their research and notes. At the same time, she’s been running her own thing for so long that, unlike Martin (or at least unlike Martin when he started), she isn’t afraid of operating on a hunch and a load of guesswork.

She fits in well. She’s got a bit of a bite to her, but her sense of humor is close to Martin’s, and they have similar enough tastes that they can have decent discussions but differing enough tastes that they can have spirited but ultimately friendly debates. They’ve also discovered an ability to riff off of one another. Melanie even installed a little widget on her computer that keeps track of how long she and Martin can toss jokes back and forth with a straight face before one of the others begs them to stop or laughs so hard they can’t breathe. So far their record is forty-seven minutes, but it’s only been a few days.

It’s enough to keep him distracted while he’s at work, at least. Same with Tim, or so he says. And when they’re actually focusing on the research and filing and recording of statements, it’s hard to focus on anything else. The problem is that they really can’t let themselves get too deep into it and risk falling deeper into the Eye’s thrall, so they have to pace themselves. Martin’s pretty sure it’s harder for him than it is for Tim, at least at first, but when he sees Tim’s hands shaking as he tries to resist picking up a statement, he reevaluates that a bit.

Weirdly, it’s harder to resist without Sasha there—she takes Jon Prime’s suggestion and skips out for the rest of the week—which tells Martin she’s absorbing a lot of the Beholder’s power. He ends up enlisting Melanie to make sure he and Tim don’t take work home on Friday. She practically frog-marches them down the block, then hugs them both and tells them to take care before peeling off to do whatever it is she’s planning to do for the weekend.

The weekend is the hardest part. Martin and Tim try to distract themselves, and each other, but so much of what they do reminds them that Jon isn’t there and they haven’t heard from him, except occasional texts. In sheer desperation, they collect Charlie—who misses Jon almost as much as they do—and take him to the London Zoo on Saturday. It takes a little bit for all of them to relax, but soon they’re enjoying themselves, laughing and eagerly talking about the animals and exploring the exhibits. Martin’s phone isn’t going to have enough space for all the pictures he’s taking, but he decides it’s worth it.

“You have a lovely family,” a zoo worker tells Martin with a grin as he’s snapping a photo of Tim lifting Charlie up so he can high-five a monkey through the glass of the enclosure, and Martin thanks him for the compliment without thinking twice about it. It’s not until they’re halfway home, Charlie worn out from excitement and exertion and sound asleep against Tim’s shoulder, that it catches up to him and he realizes that people they encounter out in public lump them together as a family—that people weren’t seeing him and Tim as babysitters or even uncles, but as a couple and Charlie’s fathers.

What surprises him is that he doesn’t start panicking over it. He just thinks well, that’s a thing and moves on.

Sunday they take Charlie to the St. Patrick’s Day parade; none of them have any interest in it, it’s just something to do to keep their minds occupied. Tim gets into a chat with a woman whose son is a little bit older than Charlie and seems thoughtful afterward, but won’t say anything. He’s a lot clingier that night, though, not that Martin minds.

Sasha’s back on Monday, seeming none the worse for the wear, and they settle into the usual business of things. Tim and Sasha do their usual weekly lunch; when they get back, Melanie offers to buy Martin lunch and they end up talking about the weekend. It turns out she was at the parade herself, with Georgie, and they have a decent laugh about not having run into each other. She’s curious about Charlie, though, and Martin ends up showing her the pictures he took over the weekend.

“So when are you going to adopt this kid?” Melanie asks as they head back to the Institute. It’s the first day of spring, but you wouldn’t know it from the grey and gloomy weather. It’s also started raining—shocker—and they’re huddled into their jackets with the hoods pulled up because both of them are too stubborn to carry umbrellas unless it’s pouring buckets. “I mean, you said he’s an orphan, and his grandmother doesn’t seem to care much about him. And it’s obvious he adores you all. Could do worse than having the three of you as dads.”

Martin nearly misses his step, but manages to recover. “It’s not really something we’ve talked about. But…hypothetically, if we were going to try and convince Mrs. Calloway to let us take him off her hands, we’d probably want to wait until after we’re sure it’s safe, you know? He’s a little kid. He doesn’t need to be mixed up in…all of this.”

“Fair. Meanwhile, you can just keep spoiling the hell out of him and rescuing him when you can.”

“That’s the plan.” Martin holds the Archives door open for her.

Elias is unusually present all afternoon, which puts all of them on edge. It’s not until they’re home and making dinner that Tim says quietly to Martin, “I think something’s wrong with Jon.”

Fear lances through Martin’s chest. “What makes you think that?”

Tim shrugs and hands him the lettuce. “We haven’t really heard from him since he left, except in texts. Sasha says he got in touch with her over the weekend and asked her to look into something for him—apparently Gertrude got arrested while she was in America—and she said he sounded kind of off. And now Elias is lurking about? I don’t doubt for a minute that something’s gone wrong and Elias is trying to either make things worse or find out if we know.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Martin mutters. He bites his lower lip hard enough that he feels it split and forces himself to stop. “U-unless, unless he was trying to see whether or not we could See across the ocean or whatever.”

“I’d like to think we would. Know if he was in danger, I mean. But…God. We didn’t know he’d been kidnapped or threatened or any of it. Anything could be happening and we’re not there to help.” Tim’s voice breaks on the last words.

“He’ll be okay,” Martin says, less because he actually believes it and more because he needs to believe it. “He promised.”

“Yeah.” Tim leans into Martin for a minute, then goes back to cooking.

Somehow they make it through dinner, and a couple games of backgammon after, but Martin can tell they’re both still tense and he’s already resigning himself to a restless night for both of them as they start to settle in. Melanie’s going to give them hell in the morning, he can feel it…

As the thought passes through his mind, his phone rings. A phone call this late at night is never good news, and Martin’s anxiety goes into overdrive. Something’s happened to Jon, or to Charlie, or to Sasha or Melanie…or else it’s the home calling about his mum.

He grabs for the phone and answers without looking at the display. “Hello?”

“Martin?”

Just his name, but the soft draw of the first syllable is as familiar to Martin as his own heartbeat, and he sits up straighter. “Jon? Jon, are—h-hang on.” He makes eye contact with Tim, whose head jerked up as Martin said Jon’s name, and fumbles with the phone for a minute before activating the speaker button and holding it out in front of him. “Can you still hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you just fine.” Jon’s voice is a little tinny but perfectly clear.

Tim gives a near-silent sigh and sinks down onto the side of the bed next to Martin. “Jon, thank God. We were starting to worry about you.”

“Tim?” Jon’s sigh is far more audible. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—i-it’s been a rough week. How—is everything all right with you?”

“We’re fine. No problems.” Martin puts the arm not occupied with his phone around Tim’s shoulders, and Tim slides an arm around his waist. “Are you—how’s the—did you find anything?”

“I—I don’t know. The address Gertrude gave Zhang Xiaoling to forward anything to didn’t really pan out; it’s a short-term rental place, there must have been a dozen people through there since she and Gerard Keay stayed. The owner said he heard calliope music from West Pullman park a few nights when they were staying here, but nothing more than that.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’m in Pittsburgh now. The records you found—that’s where Gerard Keay died, so I just…wanted to check up on that. The hospital—I could only find one nurse who remembered him being admitted. His cancer was pretty far advanced…he’d had a seizure, and they did their best, but he had another one and they couldn’t save him. The nurse was the one who told me Gertrude had been arrested—did Sasha tell you about that?”

“She did,” Tim says. “She also said you sounded…off.”

Jon’s silent for a moment. “I—was. I wasn’t feeling well. It took me far too long to realize, but—th-there was a statement I read while I was at Pu Songling, I thought I’d be okay, but a-apparently things have…progressed faster than I expected. I was—hungry, I suppose. I hadn’t thought to bring a statement. I was dizzy and weak and close to passing out, and—I opened the front pocket of my bag and found a statement in there. Was that—was it one of you?”

“Martin thought of it,” Tim says. “Right before you left, while you were showering, he asked if you’d brought a statement with you.”

“Tim’s the one who put it in your bag, though,” Martin adds.

“I should have thought of it. I should have—I really didn’t expect to be gone this long.” Jon sighs heavily. “Thank you both. Seriously. I—I might have been in actual danger if you hadn’t. But I’m okay now. I promise. I read the statement and…well, I’ve been asleep most of the day, honestly. I think I needed it.”

“Jesus,” Martin mutters. He has to close his eyes for a moment, and he feels Tim press closer to him. “The—did you, um, did you find out anything else about Gertrude?”

“Oh. Yes. She was arrested for trespassing—they found her in the morgue stood over Gerard Keay’s body, reading from a large, strangely-shaped book. Apparently his body was…mutilated, though they didn’t know if she did it, and she managed to talk them out of pressing charges somehow. The officer I spoke to doesn’t remember how. I—I may not have been able to draw as much power, being as drained as I was, but it’s also possible, even probable, that he really doesn’t remember.”

Martin looks at Tim, whose eyes reflect the worry Martin’s feeling himself. “So now what?”

Jon is silent again, but before Martin can repeat the question, he says, quietly but firmly, “I think it’s just another dead end, and I’ve decided it’s the last one. I’ve booked a ticket on a Greyhound to Washington, DC tomorrow. I’m going to stop in at the Usher Foundation, just in case they have anything that might be helpful, and then I’m coming home.”

Martin relaxes, and he feels a lot of the tension bleed out of Tim as well. “So you should be back…”

“Well, the bus doesn’t get into Washington until…hold on.” There’s the sound of fumbling and clicking. “I’d be there around five o’clock in the evening, so I likely won’t be able to even stop by the Usher Foundation until Wednesday morning. My intention is to be there as soon as they open. I don’t anticipate them having anything useful, honestly, so…if I’m fortunate, I’ll be home by Wednesday night. Worst-case scenario, early Thursday morning.”

“Call us when you know,” Tim says. “We’ll pick you up.”

“If it’s too early in the morning—”

“We’ll know enough in advance that we can set alarms. Come on, Jon, we’re not making you take the Underground home—or worse, a taxi. You’ve been away long enough. We’ll come and get you.”

“Okay. Okay,” Jon says softly. He clears his throat and adds, “How are you doing? How are—is Elias leaving you all alone?”

“For the most part. He was hovering today,” Martin answers. “We think he’s been watching you a bit, and…maybe just leaving us be to see what happens. He, um—we’ve got a new Archival Assistant.”

“We do? Who? Oh, God, did he transfer someone in?”

“Nope.” Tim pops the P hard. “He intercepted Melanie when she came by on Tuesday to read the Ivy Meadows file. Suggested she might want the job.”

“And she accepted?” Jon sounds horrified. “We warned her!”

“I know, but she’s good at this,” Martin tells him. “The researching and all. And…well, at least she knew what she was getting into. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Jon.”

Jon sighs. “I trust your judgment. Other than that…outside of work. Are you two okay? You’re not…overloading yourselves or—or overworking or anything, right?”

“No. We’re taking it easy,” Tim promises. “Checking each other. Sasha did a bit much, got a bit close, but she took a long weekend and she’s fine. And Melanie stopped us from bringing anything home over the weekend. We actually spent it with Charlie. Took him to the zoo, the parade, that sort of thing.”

“The p—right, right, it’s St. Patrick’s Day weekend. How was it?”

They take turns telling Jon about the weekend. Martin’s already transferred the photos off his phone and onto his laptop to save space, but he promises to show Jon when he gets home. Jon laughs in all the right places.

“It sounds like you had fun,” he says, and there’s a definite wistful note to his voice. “It sounds like Charlie did, too.”

“He did,” Martin says. “He kept saying how much he wished you were there, though. He misses you. A lot.”

“I miss him, too.” Jon sighs. “And I miss both of you. Badly. I-it’s not…this hasn’t been an easy trip. Not just the, the usual issues of travel. Airport food and customs and layovers. Mechanical issues and weather delays and people who don’t seem to have grasped the concept of deodorant. Hotels and taxis and…all of that is bad enough. Open-ended travel is bad. But…then there’s the issue of just being me. Of being the Archivist.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s a lot harder to resist using these abilities when I’m alone. When I don’t have you two there to—counterbalance me, I suppose. It’s like I’m constantly balancing on a tightrope, and I know I have to keep walking the line, I know it’s what I’m supposed to do, but…”

“But?” Tim prompts when Jon trails off and doesn’t continue.

“The rope is only a few inches off the ground,” Jon says in a low voice. “Or that’s what it looks like. When I, when I look to one side or the other…it doesn’t look like I have so far to fall. I could so easily step off and be on the ground, and it wouldn’t hurt at all. I don’t have to balance so carefully. There’s a voice just over my shoulder, whispering for me to step off, to save my feet, that there’s more to life than this narrow back and forth…”

A chill runs up Martin’s spine. He recognizes the description, actually. What they’re doing, the way they’re all trying to avoid overusing their abilities…it does feel a bit like walking a high wire. Martin keeps telling himself not to look down, to take it slow, to put one foot in front of the other, because he knows if he loses his concentration for even a second, he’ll fall. In his mind, there’s a platform at either end of the wire, and Tim stands at one end and Jon stands at the other, so no matter which way he turns, one of them is there, reaching for him, waiting for him when he’s done. He’s safe as long as he focuses on them.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that metaphor will help Jon.

“Are you sure, though?” he asks. “A-about…the rope not being so high.”

“No,” Jon whispers. “If I look at my feet…if I look straight down, I know how deep the chasm goes, so deep I can’t see the bottom. It’s just—it’s so tempting, Martin. I d-don’t want to put the burden of my humanity on the two of you. I need to be able to do it on my own. But it’s hard. It’s so much harder when I’m alone. And the worst of it is that there’s a part of me, a tiny voice, telling me that it’s just me, that I’m alone, that no one will ever know if I give in to temptation, just for a moment. Just to try.”

Tim huffs. “That tiny voice sounds an awful lot like Elias to me, boss.”

“I know. A-and I know I’d…I don’t want to let you down.”

Martin can’t really explain what those words mean to him, but from the way Tim leans into him, he feels the same way. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and tries to sound practical. “We’ll talk about it when you’re home. But it’s okay, Jon. I promise it’s okay. You’re—you’re stronger than Elias wants you to be.”

“It’s so much easier to believe these things when you say them.” Jon laughs softly, but there’s a genuine lightness to it—like some of the dark dread has lifted from his mind. “It’s—God, what time is it? Five o’clock? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“Time difference,” Tim reminds him. “It’s ten here.”

“For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? You both need sleep,” Jon scolds. “You have work in the morning.”

“Fine, but only if you promise to go get food,” Martin retorts. “Actual food. You’ve been asleep all day, you probably need it. Get some food and take it easy.”

“All right. All right. I think there’s a restaurant attached to the hotel.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I’m on the bus.”

“You do that,” Tim says.

“Please be careful, Jon,” Martin says softly. “We can’t lose you.”

“I promise,” Jon says, his voice solemn. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you both.”

He ends the call before Martin can respond, or actually process what Jon’s just said. The stunned look on Tim’s face indicates he feels the same. For just a second, Martin lets himself hope…but no, that can’t be. And even if it is, it’s a conversation all three of them need to have, not just him and Tim. They can’t make decisions like that without getting Jon’s input.

“Come on,” he says instead, reaching for the charging cable to plug his phone in. “Jon’s right, we need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, sounding a bit dazed. “Sounds good.”

They crawl under the blankets and turn off the light. Tim rests his head on Martin’s shoulder, and Martin runs a hand through Tim’s hair without conscious thought. For a long time, there’s no sound but their breathing. Martin assumes Tim has fallen asleep, but as relieved as he is to have heard from Jon, his mind is buzzing too hard to actually let him rest.

Suddenly, Tim murmurs, “She’d seen us before.”

“Who?” Martin is instantly on the alert, wondering who he needs to be worried about, who might be set to hurt them.

“The woman at the parade. She’d seen us before, when we took Charlie to the fireworks. She was asking where Jon was.” Tim’s head shifts restlessly. “She thought Jon was Charlie’s bio-dad and…”

Martin nods slowly. “One of the zookeepers complimented me on my ‘lovely family.’ I—I think a lot of people just…assume we are one.”

“I’m not upset by that.” Tim’s voice is drowsy. It’s like this is the last thing he had to get out to keep him from sleeping.

“No,” Martin agrees. There’s another lump in his throat and he has to swallow around it before finishing. “Me, neither.”

And maybe that is what’s blocking him from sleeping, because the next thing he knows the alarm is going off and sunlight is poking through the gap in the curtains and Tim is still warm and safe in his arms, and they’re one day closer to having Jon home.

[ieattaperecorders]

Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #2

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read/Save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/31883764

{Elseworlds} 

Ship: olivarry 

Status: married

WC: 1503 

Barry’s POV

I woke up the normal smile on my face, and I reached over for Oliver. He wasn’t in bed, so I suspected that he’d started making breakfast for myself and William. I pulled on some sweatpants and my STAR Labs sweatshirt. 

“Oliver!” I called, entering the kitchen. This isn’t our kitchen. This isn’t our house. 

Iris was here.

“Hey babe, morning. Look at these, they’re perfect this time?” Iris went in to kiss me. 

“What-uh Oliver-could have just w-w? 

“Oliver? What about Oliver? Did you get enough sleep last night?” “Well he’s my, my-” 

I look down to my hand expecting to find my emerald wedding ring, but instead I am met with a standard silver wedding ring. 

“Where’s my ring? Where’s Will?”

“What ring? Who’s Will? Are you alright? Look, if it’s Cicada, we will catch him. And with Cayden J-”

“No. Uh, right, Cicada.” “Are you alright, Barry?”

“Just, tired I guess?” “It it my cooking because-” “No, no, no. These smell,” I take a whiff of the pancake she placed in front of me, “delicious.” They smelled beyond atrocious, and I would literally do anything for an omelet from Ollie. 

“-so he’s fine Caitlin?” She hummed a yes. 

“Really? There are no anomalies. I-i don’t have a brain tumor or-nothing?”

“Barry, you’re in perfect shape.” “Tell me about it? Look at these abs, all mine,” Iris said, laying her hands all over me. I very much disliked it. 

“Maybe lay off on the PDA?”

“You sa-” “I know I like touch. But, uh, I’m going to go home.” 

“Barry, you’ve been off all morning, what is going on?” I got up and headed into the hallway. I didn’t even bother waiting for one of them to come talk to me, I just sped off.  

As I made my way to star city, I had a scary thought. What if Ollie doesn’t remember me? What if Will doesn’t remember me? 

I ran straight to Star City and picked up Oliver from the scene he was fighting at. I sped Diggle back to Argus, and I took Oliver with me back to our place in Star City. 

“Barry?” he said, wrapping his arms around me. Relief flooded my body. 

“Oh thank god, Ollie, I was so scared that you wouldn’t remember me. Us.” “No, never.” We quickly kissed. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Oliver said. 

I showed my hand, “Seems like I’m married to Iris.” “And I’m married to Felicity.” “I woke up in her house.” “You woke up, in bed, with her?” “No need to get jealous, bear,” Oliver smirked. 

“Of course I’m going to get jealous. You’re mine, and we don’t even have our rings!” “Baby, come ‘ere.” He kept me in his arms. 

“We will figure this out. I promise you.” He kissed my head. I quickly changed out of my Flash suit and into some sweats and a hoodie from Oliver’s closet. 

“We need to figure this out. Asap.”

“Morning Dad,” William said, yawning. Dad. Not Dads. He doesn't remember me. 

“Hey kiddo,” Oliver said back. 

“Who’s that?”

“He’s, uh, a friend of mine. He’s helping me with some work. 

“Where’s Felicity? I need help with-” “Give me a second, Will. I need to figure this out. Can you stay here for a while on your own?” “Uhm, sure.” “Raisa will be here anytime now.” “O-okay. Dad is everything alright?” “It’s fine, kiddo. Promise. Right, I’m going to head to work.” Ollie kissed William on the forehead before heading out. 

I followed close behind. 

“Bye Will.” “Uh, bye?”

Once in the hallways, I started crying. 

“Hey, shh, we’ll figure this out.” “H-he doesn’t remember me. Will, our son, h-he doesn’t know me.” “I know, bear, but we’re going to fix this, I swear to you.” 

“I-i don’t know how Ollie, everyone one on this earth think I married Iris. S-she’s like my sister.”

He just held me close, and I buried my head in his neck. 

“Bear, I’ve got an idea. Everyone on THIS earth. Kara.”

“W-we’d need team flash to get to her earth.”

“We need to tell them what’s happened. They’re your best friends, they’ll know something is wrong.”

“I-i-” “Baby, I promise this will all be fine.”

“How? How can you Oliver? We have no idea what the hell is going on,” I was upset, admittedly, and angry. 

“Barry, calm down.” He wrapped his arms around my neck, resting his forehead on mine. I took a deep breath. Ollie was right, we’d figure this all out. 

“Through the good and the bad, right?”

He replied with a careful kiss on the lips. 

“Come on, let’s get to STAR Labs.”

Barry took my arm and sped us there. “Barry?” Caitlyn said, “You’re back, and Oliver?”

“Hello,” he said, calmly. “So, how do I say this. Ollie and I-well, we’re married.” Cisco laughed, “Y-you and Oliver.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, oh you’re serious?”

“Look, we got married on the 28th of August. You, you were his best man, Cisco. He both used to wear a ring with the other person's colour on it. I-i, we, I love him more than anything in the world.” 

“He-yeah.”

“Kiss then? Prove it,” Iris said, walking into the cortex. I carefully wrapped my arms around Barry’s neck, and leaned it. He was comfort, and love, and everything good in the world. When our lips met, it reminded me of that. I shifted my hands to run through his hair, and, a few moments later, we broke apart.

“Good enough?” I said, gesticulating wildly. 

“Yeah. That was no platonic kiss or whatever,” Cisco said, shocked.

“I tend to agree,” Caitlyn said. 

Iris just looked down, muttering, “I knew something was up this morning.”

“I-i’m so sorry Iris, it’s just that, that Ollie, he’s my everything and I need everyone to know that and remember that. And William he is my so-”

“Hey, hey Barry, I understand. I see how you look at him, it’s like the only thing in the world that matters is him. Y-you look at me with those same eyes, Barry Allen.”

“I promise this will all get fixed, I swear.”

“Go be a hero, Barry,” She whispered with a smile, laying a kiss on my cheek. I walked back over to Ollie, standing next to him. He wrapped a casual arm around me. Once a possessive git, always a possessive git. 

“Right, so we need to open a breach to earth 38.”

“Understood. I’ll grab the interdimensional extrapolator.” Cisco ran off, and we all stood there in somewhat of an awkward silence. 

“So, Barry, Oliver, when did you two meet?”

I looked at Ollie, silently begging him to answer the question.

“W-we met when he came to investigate a case similar to his mother's back in Starling. We ended up talking, going for dinner, but I thought he’d aired me. Turns out the whole coma thing was the reason he didn’t respond to my texts. Both our night jobs just pulled us together. It’s always been easy with Bear.“

“Right, one interdimenstionall extrapolator ready to go,” Cisco said, placing the small discus looking object in my hand. 

“Thanks,” I said, opening a breach. 

We quickly ended up on a farm on earth 28 greeted by, well, people threatening us. Well, that is, unti Kara showed up. 

“They’re friendlies, they’re friendlies!” she called, “Barry, Oliver!” 

“Hey.”

“Meet my cousin Clarke.”

“As in the super one?”

Kara nodded. “You can just call me Clarke,” he smiled. 

“Barry Allen-Queen.”

“Oliver Allen-Queen.”

“Lovely to meet you, two. This is my wife Lois.” We both greeted her. 

“Kara, you know we’re married right?”

“Of course, otp.”

“Oh thank god!” I exclaimed. 

“What, what’s happening?”

“Everyone on our earth thinks he’s married to Iris, and they think I married Felicity.”

“W-wait? Really?”

Oliver nodded his pensive nod.

Time skip to when the book resets them 

I woke up again, but this time in the right bedroom. I reached my hand over, and I felt Oliver’s chest. 

“Ollie! Ollie!” I said, tears rolling down my face as his eyes fluttered open. I immediately cuddled into his chest. 

“Barry- look,” he said, carefully taking my fingers into his hand, and glossing over my hand. 

We both sighed with relief. 

“This isn’t over, Bear,” he said.

“I know. I know it isn’t. I-i’m just glad to be here.”

“Yeah me too,” he placed a kiss on my lips. 

“I’m going to go check on Will,” I said, getting up. I threw on some sweats and a hoodie. 

He hummed in agreement. 

I made the small walk to Will’s room, carefully sliding open the door. Will was sitting at his desk, typing at his computer. 

“Hey dad,” he said, briefly looking up.

I quickly wrapped my arms around him, kissing his forehead. 

“Dad? You alright?”

‘Yeah, fine, Fine now,” I smiled. 

“You’re acting strange.”

“I-it’s nothing kiddo. All good.”

“Ok. Can you get Dad to make his pancakes for breakfast?” “I might need your help convincing him.”

“Let’s go, then.”

The battle was far from won, but Ollie and I, we could figure it out. 

Read it/save it on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/31883764

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

His Dark Obsession (Yandere! Kamski x Reader.) (Chapter One)

Summary: You were the one that got away. The only woman Elijah Kamski ever loved, he thought he could move on, focus on building his company, but despite this you still haunted his thoughts even as the years past. He knew he couldn’t live without you, and he wouldn’t. He was going to do everything within his power to make you his, and his alone. Whether you wanted to or not...

Authors Note: Woo *Wipes head.* I must say it’s been a long while since I’ve written anything yandere, and I kind of miss it. But never less here is my newest Yandere fanfic featuring Elijah Kamski. As you guys are well aware by now I will list any trigger warnings that will be in the chapters in the authors note but since this is just the first chapter there will be nothing overly triggering. Aside from some obsessive thoughts, and mentions of alcohol use. 

Now I know that’s really nothing to write home about but if nothing in this fic is your cup of tea then this is where we part ways but I will remember our time fondly. Now that we got that out of the way here is the first Chapter to His Dark Obsession. Enjoy!

Chapter One.

“I love you, Elijah.” You whispered, a sad smile on you lips, your fingers brushing against his cheek, his hand gripping your wrist. “But this isn’t going to work.” You said, pulling away from him. 

“Please,” Elijah pleaded, tightening his grip on your wrist. “Please, whatever I did to make you want to leave I’m sorry. Please, I need you...”

Shaking your head you backed away from him, a sad look in your eyes, your dress billowing in the wind as you walked away from him into the night. Your name on his lips as he called out to you. Tears spilling down his face as you left him alone.

“Please, Y/N. Please come back to me.” He sobbed, dropping to his knees, as thunder rumbled over head. Another plea spilling past his lips.

***

It was always the same dream. Elijah thought as he roused. Greeted by his darkened room, sweat had matted his hair to his face, which he pushed away as he propped himself on his elbows, thunder rumbling as he looked out the window. Rolling out of bed Elijah opened his curtains, and was greeted by another rainy day. Big, fat raindrops splattering against the window as he rest his forehead against the cool glass.

It had been years since you left him, years since he was left alone begging for you to come back to him, and yet even to this day you still haunted his thoughts. Thoughts of the past, thoughts of what could have been. He was never able to forget you. There were times when he would find himself watching you through the eyes of your android as you went about your days or working from home. You were a Technical Analyst for Cyberlife. That was how he had first met you. How you had become one of his few friends, and as you can imagine his feelings had grown stronger as the years went on. 

As time went on the two of you grew closer, until you were finally together. And for Elijah he foolishly thought the two of you would be together forever. However that was not the case, as you left him only after a year. Stating that it wasn’t working out and you wanted to work on your career. Though Elijah knew the truth, as you relationship went on he noticed the way you looked at one of your fellow colleagues, a young blonde woman with wire rimmed glasses that constantly slipped down her nose. Elijah wasn’t blind he could tell when things were about to fall apart. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less when you did break things off with him. Of course it didn’t help that he all but begged you to come back. 

But that was all for naught as you left him weeping in the rain as you left with your young woman, not once looking back. Shaking those thoughts from his head Elijah pushed those thought to the darkened corners of his mind, as he moved to his desk, booting up his computer. That had been years, years that have come and gone and not a single word from you. He should have given up on you years ago like Gavin had told him too when Elijah first told his brother what happened. His brother, however hadn’t been the most supportive of him in his state. Merely rolling his eyes at him as he shoved a glass of whiskey into Elijah’s hands all while telling him to move on. That if you didn’t think that being with Elijah was worth your time than you shouldn’t be worth his. 

Easier said than done. And god knew Elijah tried, he tried to fill void in his heart with work, with women, with anything to distract him from you. But none of it seemed to work as you always haunted his dreams. Especially tonight, Elijah turned towards his window once more as thunder rumbled over head. He knew he couldn’t continue to live like this, pining for a woman that didn’t want him. He was above this, he was Elijah Kamski for god sake, he could have anyone he wanted, so why not you?

Elijah blinked as that thought popped into his head. At first he was shocked at the thought that flitted through his head. But then as he sat before his computer he found the idea... Appealing. Biting down on his bottom lip Elijah powered on his computer, an idea forming in his mind, he would get you back, maybe not in the most conventional way of wooing someone, but it was better than nothing. Typing on his computer he brought up your profile, you smiling visage making his heart skip despite the image featuring the woman you left him for laughing with you. 

Scowling slightly Elijah scrolled through your page, getting an idea of what your life was like, posts about your daily life, about your work, at first Elijah thought that he wouldn’t find anything he could use when something caught his eye. It was one of your most recent posts. 

From a few weeks ago, it read: Ellen and I just bought a new android, everyone meet Katie!” Elijah arched an eyebrow as he read it. First off he never knew you were someone who would post constantly on their profiles about such... mundane things. Secondly he kicked himself for not remembering your...girlfriends name, Ellen. Of course that name sounded familiar and not because she was the one who stole you from him. But because when he was still with Cyberlife, she was one of those up- and-coming types that had been the top of her class in... Elijah gnawed at his lip as he wracked his mind for what she was in before giving up. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, eventually you would be with him once more, and she would just be a footnote in your and Elijah’s history.

But you did just purchase an android, an AP700 if the picture that followed the post was any indication Obviously your previous android had no longer been of use to you hence why you purchased a new one. No matter he could easily hack into it the same way he did with the previous one. Just to see how you were doing. And what better way that to do that than through the eyes of your android? Nodding to himself Elijah liked that idea, typing a few more commands into his computer he quickly typed a code into his computer, and before he knew it he was looking through the eyes of your android. 

Though there wasn’t much to see as it was still pretty late, your android, Katie, as you called her was stationed at her charging station in what he could only assume was the kitchen. Using your android to look around he caught sight of you sitting at the kitchen table. Glasses perched on your nose as you glared at your laptop, gnawing at the tip of your pen as you no doubt worked out some problem in your head. You always were the night owl, if the cup of coffee that had no doubt long since gone cold sat at your right elbow. 

You looked exactly as you did years ago. Your hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing a shirt two sizes too large and sweatpants. Something you wore often when you worked from home, or were lounging around the house. It looked like things never changed with you. Elijah thought, the corner of his mouth turning upwards at that. 

Resting his head in his hands he sat there watching you, watching as a strand of hair fell across your forehead, and he wished he could reach out and tuck it behind your ear as he used to do. Remembering how soft your hair felt, the way you would sigh as his fingers brushed against your cheek, loving how you would lean into his touch whenever he did it.

“Elijah?” A soft voice spoke up, jerking him from his thoughts, making his whirl around in his seat to face Chloe. 

The blonde android arched an eyebrow at him as she moved further into the room glancing at the man seated at his computer. “It’s five in the morning, why are you up?” she asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Elijah said, as he quickly powered down his computer. Hoping that the android didn’t catch on to what he was doing. “So I figured I’d do some work, on a project...”

Very convincing. Elijah mentally scolded himself as he got up from his seat, a faint smile on his lips as he moved towards the blonde android. Watching as she looked up at him expectantly. But far from the truth, as he looked down at her a thought formed in his mind, one in which you would eventually be his once more, whether you want to or not...

“In fact I have a task for you...”