#(I tried to use less used ship tags format &I seem to be one of only ones using MOST of em which I Prefer But Anyway Adding More Later Too)

[aalbedo]

tartaglia x injured!reader

request: Hello! How about scenario where character offers help to injured!gn!reader, who is very mistrustful of and reluctant to accept it? I smh love the dynamic "no I don't want your help or anything to do with you but I don't really have a choice". And yeah, I feel like Tartaglia fits it well though you may choose whoever you feel like T v T

format: two-parter (part two here)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?)

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 1951

notes: this request awoke something in me, i feel like i could’ve written an entire 70k words fic on this if i had the energy. im sorry anon but i kinda went off the rails with this one hfjdkhfd i hope you still enjoy it. also yeah the header is mildly fucked up because i don’t have the energy to find a better png ok.

You fell to the ground, placing your hands right in a small puddle of your own blood, while a ruin hunter laid on the ground, defeated. Your legs had given in, as a sharp pain hit you through your entire left thigh. There was a large cut on your pants, through which you could see a long, bloody, wound on your skin left by the mechanical monstrosity. It wasn’t too deep, but damn if it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes closed, and let out a loud groan. Reaching a hand into your bag, you pulled out the antiseptic solution you always brought with you, and found out that the bottle was empty. You rummaged more through the bag, looking for a numbing cream, an analgesic potion, even just a remnant of a bandage, anything that could help. Nothing.

Panic started settling in your chest, you were completely alone, in the middle of Lisha, where Hilichurls could attack you at any moment, and you were injured just enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run away or even fight. You laid down with your back to the ground and covered your face with your hands, as your palms suffocated another loud groan.

You would have to crawl all the way back to the city, or until you found someone willing to help you before fainting from the slow, but consistent, loss of blood. Or worse, dying from shock.

Suddenly, you heard a voice in the distance yell “hey!” Then a second time, with a clearly worried tone in their voice. The pain in your leg made it almost impossible for you to focus on recognizing who that voice belonged to, but it didn’t matter - you were about to finally get some help. You kept your eyes closed as you raised a hand and waved it, showing whoever your savior was where you were.

As you didn’t move from the ground, you heard steps, quickly getting closer to you, until you could feel the presence of someone right above you.

“Oh thank the Archons, I’m completely out of-” you opened your eyes and were met with two bright blue irises staring into yours, and all of the sudden you recognized the voice from before.

“Did that ruin hunter hit you?” Tartaglia was perched right next to your injured leg, already starting to open a backpack that you didn’t recognize as his. He moved his eyes to your thigh and reached out a hand towards it. You swiftly moved the leg away from him, forgetting that it would make it hurt even more, and whimpered when the pain grew.

“I don’t want help from a Harbinger, least of all you” you spat out as you slowly sat up and used your hands to back away from him.

“Stop moving, or you’ll make it worse,” he said plainly as he stood up and followed you, while you kept backing away ignoring the pain through your leg.

“I’ll lose a leg before I let the fatui help me.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just watch you crawl all the way back to the Harbor.” He crossed his arms. Oh, he thought he was being funny?

You kept backing away with your arms, until you felt something hard hit your back. A rather large rock was blocking your way, and you would have to crawl around it, and the young man laughed, slowly walking towards you as he took his gloves off and put them in a pocket. You tried moving sideways, but he was quick to crouch down and grab you by the ankle, the one on the injured side, right when you moved.

You inhaled and closed your eyes as a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Are you out of your mind? That hurt!”

He kept your ankle pinned to the ground. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He used his free hand to carefully move the ripped fabric of your clothes out of the way, and get a better look of your wound. You started to feel lightheaded as you saw him tear the fabric further.

You felt some sort of damp cloth on your skin,figuring it was being used to clean the blood off your injury. Tartaglia was being so careful that you could barely feel it, it seemed like he had done this a million times before. You closed your eyes, placing a hand over them, and tilted your head forward, suddenly feeling overcome with dizziness.

“You’re losing a lot of blood. If you hadn’t moved, it would not be this bad right n-” he interrupted himself and he called your name. “You still with me?”

“Mh- huh-uh” you started feeling uneasy. You opened your eyes slightly and caught a glimpse of the wound and immediately looked away. So much blood.

“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes again.” You heard a ruffling of fabric, the damp cloth wasn’t on your skin anymore. “Tell me about the Archons.”

“What?”

“Tell me all of the Archons’ names and their elements,” he repeated. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to tell him, but you followed his order, keeping your eyes away from your wound, and instead fixating on the grass beneath you. You were feeling too dizzy to protest, your only choice was to trust him, despite all of your instincts yelling at you to get away from him.

“Okay, there’s... Barbatos, god of Anemo.” You heard more fabric rustling coming from him, but you refused to look at what he was doing.

“Yes, then?”

The dizziness was still overwhelming, but you managed to keep talking, “Morax, god of Geo.” Clinking of glass, probably bottles. “Tsaritsa, goddess of Cryo.”

“Mh-mh.” He sounded… focused. What was he doing?

“Baal, goddess of- Fuck!” The skin around the wound started burning, and so did the wound itself. You bit your lip hard and groaned as the burning kept going on and on, your skin was itching and for a split second it was almost unbearable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Antiseptic potion,” he replied plainly. “I had to find a way to distract you or you wouldn’t have let me use it.”

“Bastard.” Your skin kept burning, but you slowly got used to the pain as you watched the clear potion sizzling over your still open wound.

He barked a laugh, “I’m trying to help you over here, you’re very welcome.”

You looked at his hands as he skillfully kept cleaning your wound, now there was way less blood coming out and you were starting to feel slightly more at easy. He lifted his head and looked right into your eyes.

“It’s not too deep, but it would probably be better if I stitched it.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Of course I have, you think these healed themselves?” he asked, pointing at the seemingly long scar that started from the base of his neck and went down under his shirt. “At some point you have to learn how to stitch them up yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, still keeping your eyes on his. You realized that his irises resembled the starconches you had seen laid in the sand of Yaoguang Shoal’s beaches.

“Do you have an anaesthetic something to make the stitching hurt less, at least?”

He looked into the bag, moving things around, as if he had no idea what was actually inside the backpack. So it definitely wasn’t his.

He shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “No, sorry.”

“It’s…” you pondered over it. You would probably have to go all the way to Bubu pharmacy to get an anaesthetic, and on the way there you might lose even more blood. “It’s okay.”

From his backpack, that you hadn’t realized was laid on the ground by your feet, he pulled out a small tin box, and from the box he took out an interestingly shaped needle, recurved like a crescent moon, then a pair of tweezers and a thread so thin you could barely see it.

Just by looking at the needle, you felt uneasy again. “Are you sure we can’t go to the Harbour and get help there?”

“We can do that, if that’s what you prefer, but I would have to carry you - I doubt you could walk at all right now.”

Somehow, the embarrassment of other people seeing you being carried, bridal style, by Tartaglia was stronger than any pain you might have to go through to get these stitches done.

“Fuck it, do it. But be quick.”

“I will try my best,” he said, and his tone sounded genuine to you. You still couldn’t believe you were trusting him like this, after everything he had done to you. “Try to think about something else, focus on anything but the stitches, it’ll hurt less.” He passed the thread through the needle’s hole with surprising skill.

“Okay, uh-” you watched him hover the needle over your skin, probably thinking about the fastest and least painful way to do the job. You moved your gaze from the open would to look at his face, and his expression seemed calm enough to put you somewhat at ease.

His lips were slightly parted and you noticed that he was biting his own tongue, the amount of focus he was putting into helping you was so intriguing to you, you could have never had imagined that he would be so… caring. At least not to you.

You suddenly felt the needle prick through your skin and you whimpered slightly. ��Sorry,” he quickly said, before using the tweezers to make the needle pass through your skin and grab it again on the other end.

He repeated the process a few times, slowly pulling the thread every now and then to make the stitch tighter. You observed him the entire time, his eyes quickly darting from one spot to the other, his nose and mouth breathing at a steady pace. You saw him scrunch up his nose a few times, probably to release tension.

Each stitch hurt, you could feel the entire needle pass through your skin and come out again every single time, but you didn’t protest at all, and instead focused on counting the freckles on Tartaglia’s nose bridge, watching the muscles under his skin move every time he swallowed, and carding your fingers through the grass, accidentally ripping some every now and then.

“Done,” you heard him say in an unexpectedly cheerful tone. “I have some bandages, but I don’t think they’re enough for this large of a cut. Though, now that it’s stitched up, it’s probably safe for you to move, and I can help you get to the Harbor where you can buy some numbing potion and bandages.”

You looked down at the wound, and to your relief the stitches looked like they would hold together pretty well. “Sure, I think I can hop for a while, if you hold me.”

He picked up both his and your bag, putting them over his shoulder, then reached out a hand towards you and you realized just how bloody his hands were, as well as his clothes. You grabbed it with your own bloody hand and slowly stood up, placing your weight on the healthy leg. He placed your arm around his shoulders and put his own behind your back, holding you up.

“Ready to go?”

“Mh-mh.” You started walking in the direction of the Harbor, hopping on one leg while Tartaglia held you up.

“Whose backpack is that?” you tried asking.

“Honestly? No idea.”

“What were you doing here in Lisha, anyway?”

“Just some Fatui business, don’t worry about it,” he quickly dismissed your question.

“Always so secretive.”

[summer-time]

Stress relief - or how to ask forgiveness at your Copad (part 1)

Summary: after a rought mission, you only want to return home, grab a few snacks, and sleep for a month, but Crosshair decide to be his annoying self. The ending is not what you ever thought of.

Pairing: Crosshair/female!Reader (kinda pre relationship)

Tags: canon typical violence; Crosshair being his charming self; language; allusion at sex; reader is without physical description; reader use her/she pronouns; copad = desire in Mando'a.

N/A: I'm sleep deprived - it's like 3.44a.m. here - but I needed to write something with our favourite sniper. And because I saw so many great fics for the Kinktober here on Tumblr, my mind spiraled deep into my dirty toughts: the smutty part will be up today (after I had a chance to sleep) or tomorrow. This is a prequel to the main course - just to warm yourself up ;)

"What the hell was that?!" - you nearly screamed, anger twisting into your mind and blood boiling with rage and incredulously.

The idiot trooper in front of you didn't even seem to listen to your hissed voice, busy as he was at rolling his stupid toothpick into his mouth and grinning victoriously with the rest of the squad.

His disregard made your anger skyrocketing to the stars and above, eyes narrowing at the lazy and unabashed gaze he threw at you.

"Hello again, Dollface, miss me?" - he dared to ask you like he didn't break formation without comming you. After all, you weren't part of his squad, so if you nearly escaped your death for his little change of plans, he couldn't even care less about it.

"Don't fucking call me that! Are you out of your goddammed mind?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" - you hissed angrily while the stings of your wounds reminded you that you needed to stop the bleeding soon and putting on some bacta to heal them.

You watched as his sharp eyes zoomed onto your face - with a shade of anger under his cold irises - but you were caught too much into your own emotions to care about that. You nearly died because he changed position without warning you; you thought he had your back, but he left you in the middle of the battle to run to Tech.

If you were less angry and more logical, you could understand his motivations: Tech was his brother, his teammate from birth, and he was a little vulnerable while he downloaded pieces of information. You could sympathize with the instinct of protecting the people you cared about, and care a little less about a stranger who would be with the squad only for a couple of missions.

But you were also on this mission. You tried to be gentle and respectful to all members. You didn't try to be a burden to them, but rather you willingly shared your knowledge and helped around the ship. You were the one to discover the word codes used to enter the Separatist base.

And your reward had been a near-death sentence, thanks to the sniper.

"It's a side effect I didn't know about? Are your brain cells all dead?"

"Careful now, Princess, you better watch your tone with me." - he slyly said, piercing stare right into your eyes. Fuck this guy, and fuck his attitude.

"You changed position without telling me!" - you hissed, trying to make him understand the tight spot he threw you in. Your anger strongly returned at his raised eyebrow, his toothpick lazying rolling through his lips. Again.

"You didn't need to know. Besides, you said you could take care of yourself on the battlefield, did you not? I don't see the problem here." - what a complete bastard! Yes, you were training in combat, but you believed he was covering you - especially if you were overwhelmed with enemies. And he didn't!

And he didn't care. Your anger suddenly left you at the mercy of the battle aftermath - at the pain of your wounds, the soreness of your muscles, and the tiredness of your eyes. Your emotions faded from your face, and with a tired sigh, you left the Bad Batch to return to their ship to treat your wounds.

The return trip was quick, even if filled with a low tension between you and Crosshair: Hunter had tried to pry as to why you were been so silent, preferring to be left alone, but you deviated his attention into helping him make his mission report. You choose to leave out your very, very bad experience: you quite liked the squad, and a bad review would surely catch the Kaminoes' attention. And you didn't want that, even if the Bastard could use some manners drilled into his thick head.

"Well, guys, see you at another mission, I suppose." - waving your hand, you quickly disappeared in the crowd, not giving the clones time to replay at your goodbye. You needed some time off to acknowledge what happened: going to your apartment was the best idea so far.

You wanted to relax, to spend the rest of the evening drinking hot tea and watching bad holomovies, maybe getting a warm shower before going to bed. Unfortunately, your good luck decided to leave you at the mercy of the Bastard: as you were taking your keys out of your pack, you caught the unique black armor patter on the corner of your eyes. You quietly swore, hoping it was Hunter and not the sniper: but you were wrong. Fuck your damned luck and all the stars above.

"We need to talk, Princess." - his monotone voice was already grating on your nerves. It wasn't enough that you spent your entire time listening to his sarcastic comments on your qualification or ignoring you altogether, now he wanted to talk? Well. Fuck. Him.

"No, we don't. " - you hoped it was the end of the story. But the Bastard didn't seem to listen at all, roughly grabbing your keys from your hands and walking into your home - without an invitation.

Yes, a few bangs on the wall for his head could solve the problems. Maybe.

"Oh, Crosshair, come in, please, make yourself at home." - you snarled at his back, closing the door. You saw a smirk on his face, wiped out when he curiously gazed into the small kitchen and the living room.

"What is your problem with me?" - he suddenly asked, voice still monotone. First, you angrily tried to set him on fire with only your eyes, before spilling then out what had happened. And his face kept his stupid expression on, rolling toothpick in his mouth, and intense gaze on you.

"We knew you could handle it." - that was his fucking response. You wanted to hurt him so bad, to let him feel at least one percent of your swirling emotions. And you tried to throw a punch at his stupid smirk, willing to wipe it out - an impulsive reaction of your idiotic brain - but the Bastard caught your wrist, pulling you closer to his body.

You snarled, trying to pull roughly your arm free and out of his grasp, not that you really could: despite your hard training, Crosshair was still a clone, bred to be a better soldier that you could ever be, and he was one of the most skilled. You couldn't escape his grasp without him letting you out. And at the moment, he didn't want to.

"Ah-ah, Dollface, you don't need to be this physical. But if that it's something you want, I'm more than happy to help." - stupid, arrogant smirk; a harsh character that hid one deep desire: after all, why not help his poor team member? She seemed in need of steaming off some stress, and Crosshair knew a very pleasurable way to do it.

He spitted his anti-stress on the floor and sneaked his free hand to her neck's base, gently cupping it while catching how his maybe-Copad's eyes followed his rapid movements: her pupils were wide open from anger, cheeks nearly red after all her shouting, silence interruped only by her hushed breaths. She made a delicious imagine, one that Crosshair hoped would be followed by something more if the evening would go on.

He kept under control his instinct to grab her chin and kiss her senselessly, not giving her time to think or speak. But no, he wanted to make sure she would be willing, that she could still refuse him and his offer if she wanted to: so, he slowed down, taking great pain in restraining the part of his mind that felt exposed, and great pleasure on seeing her pupils dilatating impossibly wide, black consuming all her lovely eyes.

He adsorbed all her little inches of breath, of her warm cheeks now flushed bright red, of how her body had slightly stiffened at their shared closeness and then relaxed. She could still say no, and he would back off without bringing this interaction up ever again.

He gave his Copad more time, to refuse, to say yes, to remain there, to do as she pleased, before he decided to initiate something: if not a kiss, maybe a gentle headbutt, a Keldabe kiss only for her. Not that she would understand the real deep meaning of it, she didn't even know Mando'a or their culture. It could be his little secret, or he could use it to annoy her in the future; maybe she would lose all her patience after hearing him call her by any pet name in Mando'a and not knowing it. Maybe his brothers would laugh at him for being a romantic under his cold demeanor.

"Let me say how sorry I am for your little misadventure." - Crosshair smirked, licking his lips: she didn't say no, she didn't refuse him and didn't seem scared too much - she stopped struggling to free her hand from his grasp some time ago. He could kiss her at least, and then if she allowed it, he would made up to her: he wanted her forgiveness, and the sniper had some very convincing arguments to prove it.

[sokkas-honour]

i have an idea if that’s fine ! how about headcanons for spending christmas with keith kogane (and giving home the best christmas ever because this baby deserves it) tysm !! 💕

he does deserve an amazing christmas, but he got my space christmas instead.

tis the season - keith x reader

pairing: keith x reader (gn)

warnings/notes: this was long

okay so, post show finale, keith is very often off earth, going from planet to planet to help those who had been affected by the galra empire. you tagged along, helping him have a partner that he could count on light years away from his home planet.

keith had been away from earth for years, meaning he hadn’t even remotely celebrated holidays in general, much less christmas.

so when you joined him in space, you made a point to keep track of the days on the gregorian calendar so you could be sure to celebrate christmas on the right day.

as the holiday soon started to roll around, you discreetly started to collect things to try and make the holiday as traditional as possible but being this far away from earth did make it hard, but you did what could with what you had. you were smart enough to bring cookie dough for christmas cookies but who knew if the ship had any sort of kitchen. (spoiler alert, it did!!)

so, you talked with a few of the blade of marmora members on if you could somehow get some sort of tree esque alien plant to use as a substitute christmas tree.

thankfully for you, axca mentionned of some sort of a small tree on the next planet you were set to settle in for awhile, having just restocked on supplies.

so as soon as you guys landed and had some free time, you eclipsed yourself from the group and tried to talk to the local population in order to find a way to procure one of the trees for yourself, christmas being a little under two weeks away. and they were extremely useful, helping you pick the best one for your limited decorations.

so you picked one of the storage rooms that no one used, them being there in case of excess supplies and decided that was the room where you’d set everything up so in the room the actually not that small, small tree being placed on top of one of the empty crates.

for decorations, you just scavenged for loose string all over the ship and the alien planet, anything that could either hold your decorations or you could use as a garland.

you ended up only finding cool rock looking rocks of various colours to use as ornaments but it’s the thought that counts. you managed to pierce the rocks to put the string through, meaning you could just tie a not at the top of the loop and set them strategically around the surprisingly many branches of the tree.

for the garland around it, you managed to find some vines on the planet which got you excited, you finally found something very green for the green and red theme you were trying to have to fully emulate christmas.

lucky for you, you found red flowers on the planet you were currently on and picked a few to put around the tree and thread the stem of it through the hole you had punched in each rock.

the night of christmas eve, you slithered out of keith’s arm that was draped over you while he slept, going to the kitchen in order to start baking them so hed have fresh cookies in the morning (and maybe the rest of the crew but they had to deal with the alien substitutes)

so you spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, managing to find what you thought was a galran cookbook that included their own form of cookies so you made a couple of batches for the crew while you cooked the cookie dough you had sneaked onto the ship.

getting a bunch of unique gifts while you’re travelling is hard but you somehow managed to find a uniquely carved knife by some of the local population. you nearly wrapped it with whatever paper you could muster and placed it right under your makeshift christmas tree.

now keith had gotten a bit suspicious when he looked for you during down time and was unable to find you, getting a simple “i was exploring” excuse more than once definitely didn’t answer his question.

it was even more confusing when axca mentionned that you hadn’t been present much during a time dedicated to helping rebuild houses but unbeknownst to them, you had already finished the ones you were assigned and were currently conversing with the locals on local delicacies/objects to maybe gift keith.

he wanted to confront you about it but for the last two weeks, it seemed to him that you were ignoring him and it definitely brought his mood down.

you had also somehow managed to find voltron merch used from back when they were basically superstars. you grabbed a standard voltron formation stuffed animal as well as a red lion, hoping he wouldn’t mind you getting his first lion as well as the color of his previous suit. (which you also wrapped in scrap paper).

while you were in the kitchen, taking cookies out of the oven, you were surprised to find keith looking at you from the doorway.

“why are you making cookies this early in the morning?” he was only half awake as kosmo passed him, coming to sniff the cookies.

“you’ll find out in a second, want one?” you extended the fresh out of the oven sugar cookies to him which he gladly took, surpise on his face as he realised they were from earth.

“you had cookie dough from earth and didn’t tell me?”

“that’s not the only secret i kept, come on.” you grabbed a cookie for yourself then grabbed his wrist to drag him to the storage unit.

and when you opened the door, his face lit up at the little makeshift christmas scene he saw in front of him.

“merry christmas keith!” you exclaimed, still waiting for a vocal reaction as keith almost seemed frozen on the spot.

“you did all of this?”

“yup, i even have presents, open them!”

this man felt his heart swell immensely, not believing he had someone who cared so much about him that they recreated a holiday he hadn’t celebrated in ages, a signifiant other that thoughtful.

he feels so guilty that he didn’t get you anything but it beyond thankful.

he spots to makeshift mistletoe and he smirked, grabbing it and placing it over your heads so you two could kiss, having your first christmas morning kiss together.

“you didn’t have to do this y/n.”

“well i wanted to, i was so excited to spend christmas with you on earth but it probably wouldn’t be possible for awhile so i brought christmas to space!” he thought your reasoning was just adorable so he kissed you on the forehead.

“merry christmas y/n.”

“merry christmas keith.”

people i tag for voltron: @alteasmoon @biqherosix

[mikkeneko]

Got tagged by @veliseraptor for a writing meme!

How many works do you have on AO3? What’s your total AO3 word count?

193 works over 10 fandoms;  2,591,823 words.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I would count 10 real ones. Dragon Age; Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle; Critical Role; Marvel Cinematic Universe; The Untamed; The Witcher; Cardcaptor Sakura; Fullmetal Alchemist; Gundam Wing; Weiss Kreuz. Some of these pre-date the existence of AO3, and some of them are better off that way.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Villain State of Mind; Cover Up the Sun; Laughing As I Pray; I do solemnly swear; The Morning After.  All Loki fandom fics. Not too surprising as that was the most mainstream fandom I wrote for, and they’ve been around for a while now, lots of time to accumulate stats.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I have a somewhat complex set of criteria for when I respond and how. 

I will respond to all  comments left on works in my current/active fandom except  for: comments consisting entirely of emojis (mainly because I have no idea what to say to that) comments consisting of single words (same) or comments that seem to be about something other than my fic entirely or focus entirely on negativity (i.e., the commentor is using this box as a space to rant about how much they hate a character, the show, or another author/trope.)

I will usually but not always respond to comments on my next-to-last fandom. On older fandoms I will respond only  to especially long or thoughtful comments, or ones that specifically ask a question that I can answer.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

That would have to be Rise From Ash,  the Loki timeloop fic I wrote in MCU. Since it was intended to lead into Avengers, it naturally had a downer ending since we know how Avengers went for Loki; but the story also ended with him having a major mental health break and resolving to kill himself in order to end the timeloop, so, uh, that was pretty unhappy.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I think that the Never Gonna Tell A Lie series has to qualify for this one by default; two fics of the “characters from wildly different series meet in a bar” format, spanning seven different franchises.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Occasionally. I can’t answer in a lot of detail because I make a conscious policy of thinking about these comments as little as possible, so I tend to forget the details. Off the top of my head I know I received a few comments on my MCU fics of people complaining that the fic was nothing more than a Thor-bashing exercise (it wasn’t intended as such, but you can’t control how the audience will receive, I guess.) And then there was the whole infamous “ableist torture porn of a mentally ill man” episode.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I can recall. It may have happened that I just don’t know about.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever had a fic translated?

A fair amount! Sometimes people will leave a comment asking permission to translate. I have always granted it. Sometimes they go through with the translation and sometimes not.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! In Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle I co-wrote a couple fics with @faux-fires which were a lot of fun. (Which... doesn’t seem to be on AO3, huh. But Not Quite Paradise  is still on ff.net.)  And more recently @cerusee and I have been trading scenes back and forth for each other’s stories.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t know if I have just one. Maybe Kurogane/Fai. They really manage to straddle all my favorite ship dynamics.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Both of my WIPs in Critical Role fandom, Molly’s Moving Castle and Fjord Mustang’s YEEHAW! Fun and Pony Ranch,  are at this point probably never going to be finished. Partly because of Characterization Marches On; the characters that I thought they were when I started writing were not the characters they ended up being in canon. But mostly just because I’m no longer really in the fandom. 

Wonder if it’s worth closing out the WIPs on AO3 with final chapters describing how the fic would have ended?

What are your writing strengths?

I can do humor, I can do horror, I can do heartbreak. I can write a complex outline and stick to it, I have a fair amount of discipline and perseverance. People occasionally compliment my character voice, so I’d say that’s decent. I can spin up a plot for just about any situation. I love  adapting canon to AU. My dialogue is pretty punchy and my action sequences are adequate.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m really bad at writing OCs, as I admit to every darn time this comes up. I’ve also recently realized that I have a strong tendency to avoid writing about characters I don’t like, on several fronts.

The first way that manifests is that if there’s a main/good guy character who the fandom likes and I dislike, I will avoid writing about them whenever possible. I don’t do character bashing. (Which means that if I am  writing about a protagonist character, even if they’re being a jerk and the narrative is whacking them for it, that doesn’t mean I hate the character. It just means that the story requires that they get a good whacking, Thor.)

But the second way this manifests is that I will often just... avoid writing about the bad guys, if they’re unpleasant and I dislike them. Which in shorter things is fine! We’re here to read about the characters we like.  But in longer or more plotful things, that means that all of the villain’s bad things happen off screen  if they happen at all, so the audience doesn’t get a chance to really build up anger against them, so their eventual downfall is less satisfying.

I’m also weaker at writing romance than I would like, I’d say. If it’s a story that has a plot, the romance will frequently get shoved in around the corners or at the last minute. If it’s a story that’s supposed to be about romance, the characters will usually sidetrack into having philosophical discussions about moral relativity when they’re supposed to be flirting.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m not sure I understand the question. I don’t think this has ever come up in my fic. I do not speak any other languages fluently enough to have ever tried to write any part of my fics, dialogue or otherwise, in a language other than english. Is this asking my thoughts on other  people doing that? Sure, why not?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would have been Gundam Wing! Gosh, it’s been so long that I barely remember what  that first fic was. But the biggest thing I wrote for that fandom was a ghost story on a space station, which was not very good, objectively, but I look back on it and think it had some seeds of a pretty cool horror/psychological drama going there. 

Was Duo Maxwell really  haunting the space station? Or was Heero Yuy just going mad with grief? Who can say.

Tagging! Well, Lise tagged me, so she’s out. How about... @hollyand-writes (if you have the time to spare,) @curiosity-killed, @thethirdamell, @plotdesigner, and @cerusee ?

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {16}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: I never realize how much I drop “fuck” until I proofread...ah, oh well. 5 chapters left. Do y’all mind when I post 2 chapters in 1 day? yay? nay? I’ll only do 1 if it’s too much, but either way, R&R will be finishing up, soon.

Enjoy (you know, if possible).

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

One month had passed since they arrived in Hybern.

They had endured one battle, which lasted two weeks. Many of Hybern’s men went down, but a large number perished from their own side, too.

Even when they relaxed at camp, they were always on alert, always kept one eye open.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand sat around the fire.

The three of them had created quite the bond, never leaving one another’s side - both in battle, and out. Rhysand had an opportunity to stay away from the front lines because of his title, but he did not. He stayed with Azriel and Cassian, refusing the opportunity without any hesitation. 

“Elain says she should start showing soon,” Azriel announced, the other two looking up from their letters. “She also says morning sickness is getting much worse.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Cassian grinned. “If a little you was growing inside of me, I would probably feel like shit, too.” 

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah.”

Cassian knew that Azriel’s chest ached as he wondered how long he would have to be away. It seemed as if the war had only just begun, but he felt like he had been away from Elain for far too long.

“Any news from Feyre or Nesta?” Azriel asked.

“Feyre says Nesta is being extra bitchy,” Rhysand mumbled. “Other than that, she says she wrote to Elain, telling her to visit soon and their father is finally getting back this week. Oh, and they got a dog. Named him Oswald.” 

“Oswald?” Azriel asked, brows raised. “That’s a….nice….name.” 

Rhysand snorted. “And Nesta?”

They both looked at Cassian, who was reading his letter with narrowed eyes. “She gave me an update on the weather, says it has been raining a lot. I also hear of Oswald, and it is a terrible name, so don’t lie. She said she put a gift in here for me, but there was nothing in the paper.” He looked around for the envelope to put the letter back inside, and once he found it, and opened it up, he froze.

Azriel raised his brows as Rhysand reached for the envelope.

Cassian quickly put it out of his reach. 

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

Cassian put the letter back in the envelope and closed it. “Nothing. A photograph.”

Azriel blinked. “Of what?”

“Hmmm,” Rhysand hummed, leaning back. “Is this photograph of Nesta?”

“You will never know, will you?” Cassian asked.

“Is she nude?” Azriel chimed.

Cassian backed up, toward his tent. “I am going to bid you both goodnight.”

Rhysand howled as Azriel’s grin widened. “Alright. Don’t get too vocal with yourself, no one wants to hear all that.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes as he climbed inside, shutting the tent flaps behind him. He used a match to light his lantern, and his pipe, as he laid back against his blankets, atop the grass. 

He pulled open the yellow envelope, once more, removing the letter and setting it aside as he reached for the other contents. He pulled out a long, silver chain, an oval locket attached to the bottom. When he opened it up, all the tension was released from his body. 

On one side was Nesta, and on the other, was Marigold. Cassian chuckled at the photograph of the horse before brushing his thumb over the one of Nesta. She sat, poised, her chin lifted high. Even in black and white, he could see the intensity of her gray-blue eyes. 

He closed it shut and clasped the chain around his neck, tucking the locket beneath his shirt.

There was another photograph inside of the envelope. Azriel’s guess had not been wrong. Cassian took it into his hands and brought it closer to the lantern, his heart beating wildly. Her hair hung loose around her pale shoulders, reaching just below her breasts, which Cassian admired as he brought his pipe to his lips. Her legs were open, waiting for him, and he suddenly had the realization that someone must have taken such a photo, and wondered how Nesta had swung it without anyone seeing.

He laughed, under his breath, at the thought of Nesta ordering someone around to take a nude photo, only to have it instantly taken away and put in an envelope to ship to him overseas. He turned it over and on the back, it read, I know what you are thinking. Do not worry, Helion helped me with such a project and kept all details to himself. Cassian snorted - knew what he would be thinking, indeed. Then, below, it read, For when you are lonely. At night, this is how I wait for you to return. Hurry back.

Cassian flipped the photograph back over and ran his fingers down the image. She was so beautiful, especially when she was natural, bare. Nothing but the locket in which she sent along, the locket that was now around his neck, covered her skin. The silver oval laid between her breasts. 

He studied her until he could no longer bear to keep still. 

After unzipping his trousers, he wrapped his fist around his cock and began to stroke himself. His head fell back and his eyes fell shut, but the image of Nesta, his Nesta, remained.

~~~~~

Rhysand was eating a bowl of some kind of slop the next morning when Cassian emerged from his tent and stretched.

“Have a nice date with your hand last night?” Rhysand asked, filling his mouth.

“Fuck off,” Cassian said, shaking his head but unable to stop his grin. “Where’s Az?”

“Bringing our letters to the post. They’re going out this afternoon.” 

Cassian nodded, reaching for one of the bowls Rhysand had brought. “Okay, I grew up poor, but even this shit looks disgusting to me...and my standards are fairly low.” 

“At least it keeps us from starving to death,” Rhysand said. “Hopefully.”

Cassian was just about to reply as a bell sounded from the middle of camp. Rhysand quickly met his gaze, his jaw set, as soldiers all around them got to their feet.

Azriel was running toward them, eyes wild. “They’re coming, less than a mile away. We have to go.”

Rhysand swore, dropping his bowl to the ground as Cassian reached for their guns. A moment later, helmets were atop their heads and rifles were tossed across their backs and they were running across the landscape. Once in formation, they marched as one through the valley and halted. Beyond was the battlefield they had already seen, the battlefield in which so many had died around them. Rhysand looked to Cassian on his left. His friend was focused, his breathing even. He had a good shot, if he ever had nerves, he did not show it. Then Rhysand looked to Azriel on his right, who was closing his eyes. Azriel was fast, could dodge anything. Rhysand was not worried about either of them. He would not allow himself to be. They would stick together. They would make it out.

“Stay together,” Rhysand whispered.

The other two repeated, in the same quiet calm, “Stay together.”

~~~~~

“Feyre?” Nesta called, knocking on her sister’s door. “A letter just arrived from Elain. She will be here next week, she says.”

The door was opened a moment later.

Nesta froze.

Feyre’s eyes were red and puffy. “Sorry, I just….” her words trailed off and Nesta pulled her sister into her arms.

“Has something happened?” she asked. “Is Rhysand okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Yes, it’s nothing like that, I just….Nesta, I’m pregnant.” 

Nesta blinked. “Pregnant?”

Feyre laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Yes.”

Nesta smiled, wrapping her arms around Feyre even tighter. “That’s great news. Why are you crying?”

Feyre allowed Nesta into her room before she closed the door. They both sat by the fireplace, on the floor.

“I knew when I last wrote Rhys,” she explained. “But, I did not tell him. Now I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Nesta asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

Feyre nibbled on her bottom lip. “Is it truly better to tell him?”

Nesta’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...would telling him make him happier or just more upset that he is not here?” she asked. “He says he misses me, that all he thinks about is coming home, and if I tell him that I am with child, it would just be more of a burden. I thought perhaps I should wait, until he returns.”

Nesta nodded. “Well, I think you should let him know. He would want to know, considering he tried so hard to impregnate you to begin with.”

Feyre laughed, pushing her sister in the arm. “Perhaps. I do not know the right answer to anything these days.”

Nesta stared at her hands when she said.  “Would you like to know something that will cheer you up? Perhaps make you laugh?”

Feyre raised a brow. “You are going to tell me something that will make me laugh? That seems unlikely.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “In the last letters we sent, I put a photograph of myself inside.”

Feyre blinked. “Why would that make me laugh?”

Nesta could not control her smile as she said, “Because I was not wearing any clothing.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open before she broke into a fit of laughter. “You? Nesta? You sent Cassian a nude photograph?” 

Nesta nodded, her own laughter sputtering out. “Yes. I wonder if he has received it, yet.”

Feyre put her hands over her mouth. “I cannot believe you did such a thing! How was it? Was it awkward?”

Nesta shook her head. “No, Helion took it when he was here last week, in my room. It was actually quite invigorating. I have never felt so….I don’t know. Powerful.” 

Feyre’s laughter died down as she watched the flames. “How very risque of you.” 

“Indeed,” Nesta agreed, then looked at her sister. “I am happy for you.” She nodded toward her sister’s abdomen. “Truly.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, patting her sister’s knee. “And I am so very proud of you.”

Nesta looked over at her sister and they both broke into laughter, once more.

They were not certain of much lately, but they were certain that when their worlds were full of the unknown, laughter was the best medication.

~~~~~

Cassian had never seen so much blood.

The explosion happened quickly, no one had seen it coming. At the time, Cassian had his rifle pointed at one of the enemy, and the moment he pulled the trigger, as if on que, the ground exploded.

He was knocked on the ground, into the dirt, his ears ringing as he looked around for his brothers.

Rhysand was on the ground a few yards away, but he was already pulling himself up, rifle in hand. 

To his other side, men lay scattered, motionless.

He called out for Azriel, and when he looked back to Rhysand, his violet eyes were wide and panicked. 

“There!” he shouted, but Cassian could hardly hear him. He turned himself around, pulling himself fully off the ground, as he followed Rhysand’s gaze.

Azriel lay still, his gun a few feet beside him, his helmet having flown from his head. He was covered in blood, how much was actually his, Cassian was not certain. 

They were all covered in blood.

Their fellow man’s.

Their enemies.

Cassian and Rhysand ran to his side, sinking down in the dirt alongside him. Rhysand instantly had his back to them both, his gun raised, protecting them. 

Cassian pressed his ear to Azriel’s chest. “He’s still breathing.”

Rhysand gave a curt nod, the only sign he had heard as he pulled the trigger, firing upon any threat coming toward them. 

Cassian found the gaping wound coming from his side and tore open his shirt, where blood was flowing. “Fuck,” Cassian breathed, pressing his hands down on the wound to stop the flow. “Fuck! Rhys….Rhys, we have to get him out of here. We have to get him to medical.” 

“Can you carry him?” Rhysand called, still holding up his gun, not looking behind him. 

Cassian panicked. He was losing blood. So much blood.

He tossed his gun up to Rhysand, who took it and put it around his shoulder without taking his concentration from his own. Cassian quickly pulled off his shirt and tore it into long strips, his helmet discarded. He bundled up a few of the strips and pressed them into the wound, then tied a few together to make it long enough to wrap around Azriel’s abdomen a few times. Once he tied it tight, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Rhysand called. “Let me know when to walk, I’ve got you both.”

The blood was still pouring from the wound, although not as bad.

With a grunt, Cassian lifted Azriel off the ground, carrying him over his shoulder. “Fuck, you heavy bastard,” he groaned, getting himself into a steady position. “Alright, Rhys, I’m moving!”

Then they both were moving, Azriel unconscious, but his heart still beating within his chest, against Cassian’s back. He was heavy, and nearly Cassian’s height, but Cassian did not let himself think of it as he hurried through the gunfire and around those that were already dead.

“Do not die on me,” Cassian grunted, Azriel’s weight starting to slow him down, “Do not fucking die on me. Elain would kill me if I let you die. Do not die, you hear me? You’re going to be a dad, do not fucking die on your kid!” Cassian yelled, eyes still ahead, blurred with tears but determined. “Do not fucking die on me!” 

Rhysand’s gun fired from behind them. 

“We’re almost to the clear!” Cassian called.

“I don’t see many more from Hybern!” Rhysand called back. 

Cassian could feel the warmth of Azriel’s blood sinking through the shreds of his shirt, onto his own skin, down his arm.

He suddenly became lighter a moment later, once they neared the end of the valley. Rhysand, with both rifles slung across his chest, said, “I’ll take his legs, you take his arms.”

Cassian nodded, putting Azriel down as gently as he could among the grass. He put his fingers against Azriel’s neck and swore before putting his forearms underneath Azriel’s underarms.

Rhysand took him beneath the knees and they lifted him from the ground, and they hurried, as fast as they could, across the remaining distance.

When they reached the camp, the medical tent was the first to appear.

They brought Azriel inside and a nurse yelled for a table to be cleared. Rhysand and Cassian put him down, then both stepped back to let the nurses swarm him.

“He’s going to be okay, yeah?” Rhysand asked, face paled. “He’s still breathing? He’s going to be okay?”

No one answered him, which only made Cassian ask, louder, “Just tell us he’ll fucking make it!” 

A nurse pressed her hands against the newly unraveled wound as she said, calmly, “Yes, he’s still breathing.”

“That doesn’t answer my fucking question,” Cassian spat. 

Rhysand met him at his side and started to pull Cassian back. “Let them work.”

Rhysand’s hands were surprisingly calm as Cassian turned to him, Rhys’ face covered in the blood of others and dirt, his hair drenched in sweat and wild. 

“He can’t die, Rhys,” Cassian breathed.

“I know,” Rhysand said, taking Cassian’s face in his hands. “I know, alright? So we have to let the nurses work. Yeah? We have to let the nurses work, Cass.” 

Cassian nodded, and Rhysand did not let go of Cassian’s face until his breathing began to even.

A soldier poked his head into the tent a moment later and said, “Hybern retreated. It is done for the day.”

The nurses gave a sign of understanding and the soldier went away. Cassian had not even heard them coming back, had not even heard the shouts of victory from the outside. 

“You two may stay, if you wish, but you have to sit to the side,” a nurse said, the one with her hands against Azriel’s wound.

Cassian nodded as he and Rhysand went to the side of the tent and slumped to the ground. 

Neither of them spoke as they waited. 

~~~~~

Hours passed, the day had gone and turned into night, and he did not open his eyes. The nurses had sterilized the wound the best they could and sewed his skin shut. He had lost a lot of blood. 

Rhysand looked at Cassian every once in a while, but neither of them said a word, neither of them dared. Cassian still sat with his chest bare, covered in filth, dried blood matting his hair to his forehead. Rhysand assumed he did not look much better. 

The minutes were passing too slowly, it was agonizing. Rhysand had killed more than he thought he would have to since arriving at Hybern. The thought was unnerving, but he tried not to dwell on it. He was protecting himself, protecting Azriel and Cassian. 

“If he dies, how would I ever go back?” Cassian whispered. Face glowing in the lanterns that surrounded them. “How could I stand there, in front of Elain, and Feyre, and Nesta, and tell them that Azriel died?”

Rhysand cleared his throat, his gaze falling to his hands where he began picking off the dried, crimson coat. “I don’t know.”

Cassian nodded, eyes empty. “They have a baby on the way, Rhys.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand breathed, not bothering to wipe away the tear that fell down his tanned cheek.

Cassian shook his head, but said no more.

When the silence became unbearable, Rhysand stood and walked to Azriel’s side. His chest was still rising and falling, his wound closed. Rhysand reached up to feel his forehead. He did not feel feverish. 

“Before we left,” Rhysand began, quietly, “me and Feyre tried, for a baby. Seeing you here now…” his words trailed off and he shook his head. “Elain needs you. That baby needs you. Fight for them, yeah?” he used his torn shirtsleeve to wipe at his eyes, his nose. “If you can hear me, you have to fight for them. Because if it were me in your place, and Feyre was pregnant, that woman would cut off my fucking balls.” 

Cassian stood and joined them at Azriel’s other side. Rhysand knew Cassian was thinking of their conversation on the ship. I wanted to give her a baby, to look at, to love, to remind her of me, if I don’t make it back. 

Azriel’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids, and both Rhysand and Cassian froze. 

“Az?” Rhysand whispered.

Azriel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stirred, then groaned, softly.

Cassian and Rhysand said nothing as they watched, as they waited. 

Rhysand thought he would collapse once Azriel’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “Rhys. Cass….”

Rhsyand nodded toward Cassian where Azriel’s eyes slowly trailed to. Cassian stood completely still, as if he were afraid to breathe. 

Azriel let out a breath as his eyes closed, once more. 

But his hands found theirs. One in Rhysand’s, the other in Cassian’s. 

“My side…” Azriel began, as if each word brought him pain, “fucking hurts.” 

Cassian, unable to control himself, began to laugh, and when he couldn’t stop, Rhysand started to laugh, too.

Azriel’s hands tightened around theirs, smiling faintly, eyes still closed. 

That battlefield had been littered with the dead, husbands and sons and fathers who would be no more.

But Azriel would not be one of them.

They promised to stay together.

They would stay together. 

At least, for now.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm​ @santas-dwynwen​ @starryandbooks​ @candid-confetti​

[parvuls]

fic: in the space between (2/2)

word count: 6.6k

rating: teen

tags: space, science fiction, enemies to friends to lovers, pre-relationship

notes: due to length and tumblr's formatting, reading on ao3 is recommended

(part 1 | part 2 | read on ao3)

-

    “Just a month till we’re home, boys,” Holster announces as he climbs into the bottom bunk across from Eric, addressing the dark room at large. Eric can hear him shift around in his bed, sheets rustling with his movements. “Can I get a hallelujah?”

“You can get pizza,” Ransom replies dreamily from the top bunk above him. “Because Holtzy -- The Real fucking Pep God. You and me, Matty Matheson pepperoni. One month.”

There’s one month left until landing back in Houston and disbanding for three weeks of leave. It’s been creeping up in conversations for weeks now, nestling itself in crew breakfasts and mission briefs and downtime. Shitty waxes poetry about things like dipping his toes into the ocean and breathing that sweet Terra air as often as he talks about smoking three joints at once the moment they set foot on the ground. Holster and Ransom talk about the heaps of food they’ll be shoveling to compensate for a year of outer space cuisine. Jack doesn’t talk about much other than the missions, and Eric thinks about organic chemistry and molecular modeling on good days, thinks about crying on bad ones. He talks about almost anything else to distract himself and hopes to Jesus that no one can tell.

The picture frame on the shelf by his bunk wobbles on its back stand as the ship tips into Krer orbit for the night. Krer itself is dim and murky, obscuring the shining lights of its neighboring planets and cloaking the crew quarters’ portal window in darkness. Jack said that the last mission of this tour should be coming in from Flight Director Hall sometime during the night.

Eric sighs quietly, turns onto his side, and stares blindly at the blank white of the wall as he mentally runs through the primary structure of proteins once more. Holster and Ransom are arguing about the best Toronto pizza in the background, the sound of their voices weaving in with the beeps of the ship’s machinery and the creaking noises of it when in motion.

“You gotta come too, Bittle,” Holster says, drawing Eric’s attention. He rolls his head to the other side, watches Holster’s blurred figure move in the dark to lean over the edge of his bunk. Eric must’ve missed a change of conversation. “Getting together over leave? We spend the last day before launch together, all of us. Y’know, hitting some bar, maybe watching a game, then catching the plane to Texas in the morning. Last time we went to Shitty’s -- man, that was fucking wild sauce.”

“And you gotta meet Lardo,” Ransom adds. “Crew bylaws. Sorry, rookie, everyone’s in.”

There are ten densely-printed pages about prokaryotes crumpled in the back of Eric’s personal locker, that he’s riffled through maybe twice. Eric chews his lip raw, tries to think of a carefully-masqueraded way of brushing the invitation off, but Holster grumbles lowly before he can. “Well, not everyone.”

“Right,” Ransom says, his enthusiastic tone turning slightly hesitant. “But. Us and Shitty and Lardo and probably her trainee Ford. It’s almost everyone.”

It’s almost everyone, plus ground team. “But not Jack,” Eric concludes, unintentionally dismayed. He should know better by now than to be disappointed, probably. He should, but doesn’t.

Holster sighs and throws himself back onto the mattress, bed springs groaning loudly. “Jack doesn’t really do social things. He’s too cool for them. Which -- whatever, man, who cares, it’s probably more fun for us that way. So you in?”

What Eric’s in for is a world of trouble. Eric’s in for the sweltering heat of the Texan desert, he’s in for submerging in textbooks all the way up to his ears, he’s in for never being quite enough for this world. He turns his head back to the other side, facing the wall, and stifles a sigh.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and knows that he will, also knows he’d never be able to say yes. He doesn’t leave them enough time to round up on him before he adds, “Now shut your pieholes, gentlemen, some people need their beauty sleep. And by some people I do mean y’all.”

“Really, he means you,” Ransom tells Holster, and there’s the distinct sound of Holster reaching up and whacking the top bunk with a pillow. Eric buries his face in his sheets and tries to think distracting thoughts loudly enough to drown out the constant screeching noise of his worries. That, at least, is something he’s an expert at.

.

Eric wishes he could say that he spent his entire life looking up to the stars. That would be a lie.

He spent most of his childhood looking at the ground, instead. At the toe picks beneath his feet; at the dough rising in the oven; at the floor of his school’s hallways, trying to avoid eye contact. The sky in Georgia was ordinarily clear, stars blinking in and out of view, but they’d never held much of Eric’s interest. He wouldn’t have known what to search for even if he’d tried.

Eric, aged eighteen, went to college mostly for the going and less for college. New England was as much an escape as it was a destination. He liked some of his classes, didn’t like others -- remained undeclared for most of junior year, bouncing around between classes about food and culture. He put off doing his work for too long and preferred baking to writing essays too often, but it was fine, most of the time. His days were filled with more people than papers and he found that it was exactly the way he liked it.

College was the point Eric realized that, once he’d stopped being too afraid to try, he was really good with people.

“You could charm mountains into moving for you,” his sophomore year roommate told him, not without a hint of exasperation, when Eric fretted about meeting his first boyfriend’s parents. “Literally everybody likes you.” 

And Eric laughed nervously, said, “Come on now, that is certainly not true,” because he couldn’t charm thirteen year old bullies out of forcing him across the state, couldn’t make small-town Georgia like him for who he really was. Those seemed a lot like immovable mountains to him.

But people flocked to his vlog, kept telling him he was so charismatic, and his hockey team kept turning to him for advice with their problems, and in November of junior year he reviewed his credits, expecting to see every food class his college had to offer, but found Populism and Norms and Deviance and Inequality and Social Change, instead.

He got his B.A. Got his master’s, too, not particularly fond of academia but not too keen on leaving the shelter it provided, either. He accepted an offer to work as a consultant for a big company right after grad school, spent a year expertly tailoring trade relations and marketing techniques to partners and customers from foreign cultures. He understood people, liked people, and people, apparently, liked him. It wasn’t the job of his dreams but it was a decent start, and once the one year mark came and went he began considering PR work, maybe putting his people skills to a smaller-scale use. He was twenty-five and definitely not unhappy and his eyes were, always, firmly on the ground.

And then -- well. Then, one day, NASA called.

.

Jack gathers the four of them outside the flight deck to inform them that their crew has been tasked with the last Human-Islik Intergalactic Treaty info exchange of the quarter, in time for the summit meeting at the end of August. He tells them Flight Director Hall is counting on them, tells them to wear clean suits, and when Holster and Ransom begin chanting last mission, last mission, last mission, he sternly reminds them that being assigned to the Treaty IE is an honor. Still, when they all scatter and the two of them practically skip down the bridge, Eric thinks he sees the corners of Jack’s mouth twitch.

The mission takes four days, requires a series of security checks before entering each room and short transmissions to Houston for green lights at every step. Islikaru has the largest concentration of humans outside of Earth, but protocol must be followed nevertheless. Eric shakes hands, shakes paws, shakes tentacles, makes pleasant small talk and smiles brightly and lets Ransom ramble about science and Jack deal with bureaucracy. It feels at last like a familiar dance, and Eric tries not to think about how much he doesn’t ever want to stop dancing.

By dusk of the fourth day Shitty convinces Jack to wrap it up at a local eatery, the crew crowded around a small table in a pressurized O2 pod with their helmets thrown on the seats by their thighs. Eric finds himself squeezed between Jack on one side and Shitty on the other, a cool syrupy drink emitting translucent wisps of steam in his hand. Holster orders for all of them in rusty Isli that may or may not actually result in food, but they’re all just too jubilant to care.

“Alright boys,” Shitty hollers, banging his coaster on the table several times for effect. The glass containers holding all of their drinks jiggle with its force, creating a cheerful ringing sound. “A toast to this fucking beaut of a year. Being stuck in a cramped metal case floating in nothing for three hundred sixty-five days has been a great pleasure with your rockin’ bods for company. Fucking cheers!”

Ransom whoops, Shitty pretends to wipe a tear, Holster belts out the chorus of Cheers’ theme song passionately. Eric watches them, helplessly indulgent, and thinks: he’s actually making a home here. 

On his other side, Jack shoves one of the food baskets towards Eric with his knuckles and says, “You should try the octo-bacon, if you haven’t.” His eyes meet Eric’s for a brief moment, make Eric’s lungs expand in his chest. He can’t remember the last time Jack spoke to him for no good reason. 

Jack’s face is uniquely relaxed, his jaw convulsing as he fruitlessly tries not to laugh at something Shitty says, and Eric’s former thought continues, completely unbidden: gracious, I’m going to miss these boys so much. Their bickering and their worst habits and their dumbest moments. Holster’s booming voice, Ransom’s midnight thesis writing, Shitty’s insistence on nudity, Jack’s continual ability to confuse him. 

“Holy shit, man,” Ransom says, slamming his emptied drink onto the table and staring at its last drops in awe. “What the fuck is this shit. I need another one ASAP.”

“Not it!” Holster calls, and then stretches his arm across the table, fingertip of his index finger pointed mere inches from Jack’s face. “But I just know our commander would love to buy his best crew another round. Right, Zimmermann?”

“You’re my only crew, Birkholtz,” Jack rolls his eyes, mostly good-natured. Holster’s wiggling finger and Shitty’s foot kicking at his shin beneath the table must goad him into action anyway, because he puts his helmet back on, disappears out of the pod and towards the service counter without further protest. 

While Eric watches him go, Shitty slides closer in the booth and flings his arm around Eric, tugs him right into the crook of Shitty’s body. 

“This is it, Bittle,” he sighs, eyes closing dramatically. “Once this tour ends, you will no longer hold the title of rookie. Finally, you will graduate to the same titles everybody else gets -- mainly bro, or fucker, or, if I’m spectacularly schwasted, yo, what’syourname. This is a monumental day for all. You might even get a nickname. Are you appropriately emotional?”

Eric is emotional about many things. He can't stop thinking about this crew and what they've come to mean to him, can't stop hating keeping secrets, can't stop dreading the moment they cross back into Earth. Eric is emotional about the possibility of seeing his mama again, and what it'll mean if he does; Eric is emotional about life in general, right now, so he says, “Sure thing, Shitty,” and shoves a ring of octo-bacon into his mouth. It seems, for lack of a better option, like the smartest response.

From above Ransom’s head, Eric spots Jack reappearing just beyond the glassy walls of the pod, carrying a tray with four containers between both hands. He then keeps watching, helpless and open-mouthed, as another astronaut rises from a nearby booth and slams into Jack shoulder-first, tipping the entire tray sideways and nearly knocking its contents over and to the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry mate!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching out to catch Jack’s hands and help stable the tray. His Australian accent is thick, the ASA pin decorating the shoulder that knocked into Jack glinting under artificial lights. The two of them grab the tray with three hands, containers sliding back into place still intact, before the man’s eyes flick up and catch on Jack’s face. He then jerks back, his eyes widening and his hands yanked away from Jack like he’s afraid to catch on fire. “Fuck, Zimmermann! I didn’t see it was you! Fuck my life, uh -- here, I’ll pay for the drinks --”

Eric watches, crestfallen, as Jack’s previously relaxed expression gradually darkens back into his usual scowl, lips disappearing between his teeth. “It’s fine, don’t --”

The other astronaut shakes his head vehemently, shoving his gloved hand into his utility pocket and fishing out some local coins that he then throws onto the tray haphazardly.

“Fuck no, mate, I’m not taking risks with you,” he hurries backwards, flat palms raised up, like he’s under some kind of threat Eric can’t read in Jack’s distressed body language. “For real, it was an accident, don’t get your dad to kick me off the program, yeah?”

The man backs off, scurrying back to his pod and to his whispering crewmates. Jack remains standing, shoulders rigid and tray held in clenched white knuckles, vacant stare fixed on the floor. Eric glances away from Jack for the first time since he saw him approach and notices that his whole table is silent and tense. He catches Shitty’s furrowed eyebrows and Ransom’s worried look, and becomes slowly conscious of the fact that unlike him, everybody else already know what just went on in front of them. 

Jack’s mood seems to fracture, then. He steps through the pod’s sliding sealing and sets the tray down on the table too forcibly, glass containers knocking together. He doesn’t sit back down. Shitty parts his mouth to say something, but Jack latches his helmet closed before he can, muttering, “I’m done for tonight. I’ll see you guys back on the ship.” 

His face is almost blank, valiantly trying for imperviousness, but Eric has never seen him look so decidedly miserable before. Instinctively, he reaches out to grab Jack’s wrist; he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what just happened, but he does know that Jack shouldn’t leave like that. He manages to stammer out, “...Jack --” before Jack tears his hand away from Eric’s grip with the same excessive aggression that rattled the drinks, and says curtly, “Excuse me.”

Eric stares at his back stalking off until he's entirely out of view, feels unjustly hurt and primarily very confused.

.

Jack Zimmermann is --

Jack Zimmermann is one of NASA’s Arctic Project’s best pilots and ship commanders, Eric learned his first year in the program. He’s exceptionally committed to his job, loyal to his crew, unwaveringly focused on the mission. He’s direct, sometimes brutally so. He’s good at following orders, makes tough decisions under pressure, and never takes the opportunity to rub elbows with the higher ups. He just loves what he does, and does it notably well.

The name and the legend is a lot to live up to, but when Eric met Jack he realized that the man is exactly as he’s advertised. Jack, in the role of Jack Zimmermann, is straightforwardly that: an amazing astronaut, an amazing ship commander, an amazing pilot.

It’s unfortunate, then, that Jack in the role of a human being is sometimes an enormous asshole.

.

The ship’s lights are all off when the boys straggle themselves back on board later in the evening, their boots dragging sluggishly against gravity. When Jack left, the celebratory mood followed his footsteps out the door; no one seemed the least bit inclined to talk about it, so Eric didn’t ask. Though the four of them did their best to recover, cracking halfhearted jokes and staying for another couple of rounds, even Shitty’s mustache seems to droop lower than normal by the time they finally find their way back to the ship. 

Shitty passes airlock and walks straight towards the pilots’ quarters without saying a thing, so Eric wordlessly follows Holster and Ransom into their own quarters, brow still creased with puzzlement. He watches as Holster starts stripping by the door and Ransom sits down on the bottom bunk to take off his gear, and waits, and waits, until the silence is just too strange to handle.

“Alright, can anyone tell me what in the deep-fried hell was that?”

Holster glowers, rips off his support strap with gusto. He doesn’t answer, so Eric turns his frown at Ransom, who sighs as he removes the tough overshoe off his boots. “Ignore him, Bittle. Jack just gets real bitchy when people mention his dad. Which happens pretty often because, you now, his dad.”

“His dad…?” Eric prompts, desperate, because it seems like he should know something that he doesn’t. It’s not in the least a foreign feeling these days, when concerning space and science and always, always Jack.

Ransom looks up at him, one boot dangling from his left hand. “Yeah, you know, his dad. It’s a lot of pressure, living up to that. It’s probably most of why Jack is how Jack is.”

Eric doesn’t believe daddy issues are any excuse to be so surly, and he thinks, rather bitterly, that he would know something about the matter. But he pushes, still, because it’s always one step forward and three steps back with Jack, and any scrap of information making his commander seem a little more human could go a long way right now. Or even not human; Lord knows Eric can figure out nonhums just fine. “What does he have to live up to?”

Holster pauses peeling off the suit’s hard upper torso to squint incredulously at Eric. The lower torso assembly of the suit pools around his thighs. “You don’t know who Mad Bob is?”

“Uh,” Eric deflates, taking a tentative step back, the crown of his head hitting the frame of the top bunk. The tone of conversation begins to sound a lot like the time he disclosed that he doesn’t really know the periodic table or has, at any point of time, known it at all. “No. I don’t.”

Ransom throws his other boot to the side and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and face contorting into an expression that closely mirrors Holster’s; surprised, scandalized, disbelieving. “He’s like -- Mad Bob. He was the first commander in the original Avalanche Project. He was the first pilot to leave the Solar System and come back alive?” 

“They say he was the first to meet extraterrestrial life!” Holster gestures grandly with his hand, yanking off the EV glove to have free use of the other hand as well. 

“That’s actually not true,” Ransom clarifies, “No nonhum races were recorded until almost a decade later --”

“Not the point, dude,” Holster waves him off. “The point is, Mad Bob is a legend. His ship nearly burned on the way back to Earth and he totally saved everyone on board. Made the first round trip, you know? He’s a big fucking deal. Can’t believe you’ve never heard of him.”

Eric blanches, digs his nails into his skin to hold his instinctual reaction at bay. Eric spent the first twenty-five years of his life with his feet planted firmly on the ground, his eyes never straying upwards. Later, Eric spent every moment of his time at Houston scrambling to prove his worth in an environment so wholly alien to him that the irony in the metaphor was no longer funny. Eric wouldn’t be able to tell Neil Armstrong from Adam, just like Eric can never really remember the difference between Newton’s and Einstein's theories, doesn't know the primary structure of proteins even now. Eric doesn’t belong here, and he’s quickly running out of time to pretend like he does.

“Oh,” he says finally, weakly. Holster and Ransom haven’t looked away from him yet, so he averts his eyes, turns to face his bunk. “Must’ve just missed it somehow.”

He can almost hear Holster and Ransom hem and haw for a few long, silent moments, before the sound of nylon rustling resumes. Eric takes a deep breath, and does his very best not to regret ever asking. It’s made worse by the fact that this hasn't really helped him understand Jack any better than before.

.

So Jack had spent most of Eric’s first few months on the ship treating Eric like an inconvenience. That was okay -- it hadn’t been the first time he’d been perceived like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t been a fresh-faced teenager from the South in a long while; he’d been older, tougher. He’d been places and had met people, nicer people and smarter people and even meaner people than Jack Zimmermann. He hadn’t really needed a pat on the shoulder or an encouraging smile, just the opportunity to do his job, and do it well.

The real problem was that Eric had always been good at his job because he understood people. And Eric, despite his best begrudging efforts, cannot make sense of Jack.

Jack, who clearly had not understood Eric’s job at all until, suddenly and out of nowhere, there was Evor. Jack who, after Evor, told Eric good work and sounded like maybe he even meant it. Jack who, after Evor, was sat by Eric when Lardo radioed to tell them that Jack’s report had made the deputy administrator call to congratulate Eric specifically. 

Jack who, also after Evor, stopped meeting Eric’s eyes unless absolutely necessary. Jack, who Eric sometimes caught staring from the corner of his eye, looking lost in thoughts. Jack, who roughhoused with Shitty in the flight deck, and arranged Holster a private DSN connection for his mom’s birthday, and listened to Charlie Rich on late night piloting shifts -- but whose glimpses of personality disappeared the moment Eric tried to study them for too long.

Missions transformed into something different in the aftermath of Evor. A month after the crew’s return to action they were sent to do testing on the magnetic field of Pladora, and Jack put Eric in charge of communication with the local scientists without preambles. Eric choked, floundered, but grabbed the opportunity with both hands; he still couldn’t shake the weight of Jack’s gaze on his shoulders whenever he spoke with the Pladoran team.

Later, Jack pulled him aside and asked, “Are you capable of confidently explaining to me the exact kind of testing we’re doing here?”, stared at Eric until he was fidgeting uncomfortably in place. “It’s important that you can do that,” he added, like Eric didn’t already know, like Eric didn’t think about it every night before he fell asleep, like he needed Jack’s eyes on him for that, making the nape of his neck burn and his palms tingle with sweat. But Jack frowned at him, then, took a step back, like he didn’t understand why Eric was flushed with embarrassment. It almost seemed for a moment like he wasn’t actively gunning for humiliation.

And then it happened again. Two weeks after that they were helping ESA fix a satellite on a German space station, and Jack left Eric to discuss mission parameters unattended, but also ordered him to watch Shitty install a new GPS chip for three hours. During the strategy session for a recon mission in the Austra System, Jack insisted on hearing Eric’s opinion, but also accosted him after it to demand that Eric read about the complication with the wavelength disturbance. In a charged encounter with destitute merchants from a dead galaxy, Jack remained two steps behind Eric’s right shoulder and let him conciliate them, but when Eric later babbled about the civil turmoil caused by the demise of the galaxy, Jack asserted that he should understand the astrophysical process leading to such death.

So Eric generously thought: maybe Jack was trying, poorly. But three months after Evor the two of them returned to the ship frazzled and peeved, had spent most of the day wrangling with diplomats on Uzeru, and Eric scrubbed a hand over his face, resolved to try one more time. He offered Jack a friendly, tired smile, and said, “Wanna share bad coffee in the kitchen to drown our sorrows?”, but Jack only shook his head once, sharply, before immediately walking away.

The inability to make any sense of it consumes Eric's thoughts for much longer than he's comfortable with. Jack pushes and then pulls, hovers over Eric professionally but disappears the moment it’s interpersonal. A week before they're off for leave Eric looks up from his plate to see Jack taking his dinner into the flight deck, ignoring Shitty’s offer to join him, and thinks that maybe he can never peek past Jack's mask because Jack makes sure to turn away whenever it comes off. He thinks that maybe this is what loneliness looks like, thinks that he should still know better than to care, thinks for the first time that maybe Jack’s silent treatment is nothing more than not knowing what to say to Eric after Evor. Thinks that maybe Jack’s inept solution to not knowing what to say is to just say nothing at all.

.

The impact crater chipping Vylos’ surface is visible from two-hundred thousand miles out. It’s the nearest planet to the jumping point back to Earth, and its crater serves as a parking lot for all ships on their way to or from there. Its chaotic layout strongly reminds Eric of the QuikTrip station just north of Atlanta, but he bites his tongue and keeps that to himself. Jack and Shitty have probably never seen a QuikTrip, anyway.

Jack grumbles about finding a parking space on the night before leave, body curved over the control wheel and eyes squinted at the windowpane. Shitty leaves him to it, drapes his legs sideways on his armrest to tell Eric about the long claws of capitalism stretching into the cosmos, and how this has resulted in Vylosian beer being the best there is this side of the Milky Way, “Even though it’s like, totally not a real beer, dude, but -- marketing ploy!”, and how its atmosphere was chemically engineered, “To be breathable for all us Earthly suckers passing by ‘cause of the jump point. Filthy fucking marketing plot, I tell ya -- and the beer costs like my goddamn kidney.”

“Your goddamn kidney’s not worth much with the amount of Vylosian beer you regularly consume,” Jack interjects, lowering the ship into a vacant spot skillfully. Vylos’ terrain, reflected at Eric from the three surrounding windows in the flight deck, is grainy and blue.

The Vylosian bar Shitty buoyantly pushes them into is decorated in mismatched memorabilia, posters of Uma Thurman and Justin Bieber and a life-size stormtrooper suit personally signed by George Lucas looming by the wall. The AI pouring the drinks is a hologram in the shape of a Western saloon bartender, the beer is thick and neon green. Eric’s been outside the Kármán line for nearly a year and feels caught by surprise, still, almost daily; but tonight he gets to wear denim shorts instead of nylon spacesuits, gets to clink his glass against Ransom’s, gets to pretend that tomorrow isn’t possibly the end of it all. It has to be enough, he thinks, and takes a determined drink.

Their group starts out leaning against the wooden countertop, skin sticking to its surface. Later, Holster and Ransom chat their way into the table of two local girls, and Jack disappears from view. Eventually, their group winds up scattered across different corners of the bar, red-faced and loose. Eric catches himself repeatedly looking up from the bottom of his glass to the open door, at the pale glint of the sky just outside it, and after a thorough sweep around he takes his drink, gets up, and starts walking.

.

The bar overlooks the vast expanses of the crater sprawling beneath it, and Eric finds himself sitting outside at the edge of the cliff, thighs bare over the rough azure dirt and beer glass tilting in his hand. Vylos’ three moons are out of sync, rising and peaking and setting in a simultaneous cycle, and Eric is busy watching them when he hears heavy footsteps coming up behind him.

He’s surprised to find Jack standing there, suspended in motion with his hands deep in his pockets and his hair windswept, figure backlit by the lights of the bar twinkling behind him. He seems just as startled to see Eric; his expression wavers out of its usual stoic façade to betray some semblance of emoting.

“Oh, Bittle, I -- I thought you’re inside with the boys,” Jack blinks, a hint of a frown wrinkling his forehead. 

“No,” Eric blinks in turn, unsettled by this strange creature wearing the face of his commander. He looks so different in jeans and an AsCans training program t-shirt, out of the bulky spacesuits they spend most days in. “Uh -- no. I’m not.”

“Right.” Jack nods stiffly, glances at the ground and then at a spot somewhere over Eric’s shoulder. His body language is guarded, and he looks misplaced, painfully awkward. They still haven’t exchanged more than two or three sentences in private since Evor and Eric, typically the chatterbox, wouldn’t even know where to begin. “Well, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll go.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Eric says, before he can think too carefully about why the heck he’d say such a thing. Before he can recall the snapshot memory of Jack turning to eat dinner in the flight deck, alone. “I mean. I’m just sitting here. Drinking alien beer,” he raises his glass, the bright green liquid sloshing around, leaving traces of neon on its rim. The ridiculousness of the situation may be slightly lost on Jack, but not on him. Space still is, and probably always will be, kind of weird.

“Right,” Jack repeats, the line of his back tightening and his eyes narrowing at Eric. “Be careful with that. Don’t want you to throw up during descent tomorrow.”

Dear Lord. One step forward and three steps back. “Yes, Commander,” Eric sighs, swallowing the chagrin out of his voice. His shoulders sag as his body curls towards the view, away from Jack. God forbid Jack Zimmermann think about anything other than the mission for a single flippin' moment. Eric should know better than to be disappointed, but the sour churn of his stomach is unmistakable. Eric should, but doesn’t.

The footsteps behind him pick up again, and he expects to hear Jack walking farther and farther away. Instead, he’s shocked into silence by Jack sliding into his peripheral view, sitting down beside him on the cliff. His shoulders are rigid, his mouth pressed thin. His expression looks like he’s as bewildered as Eric by his own actions.

“Are you excited to go back?” Jack asks after a long, uncomfortable minute, during which they both sit mutely and watch the pits of Vylos before them. Its second moon has finished a full rotation and is now shining down in soft lilac beams. Jack’s voice is tense, flat; this boy, Eric thinks almost pityingly, really is terrible at small talk.

He’s been asked this question a dozen times that month, but mustering his practiced fake enthusiasm now seems hard. Maybe it’s the alien alcohol; maybe it’s that Jack could regress into not speaking to him again at any moment. “I guess so. Home sweet home, ‘m I right?”

Jack shrugs one shoulder, a short and angular movement. “It doesn't feel like going home to me,” he says, honest and plain. “I spend most of my time out here. It’s more like -- a summer vacation. Some people go to the Caribbean and we go visit Earth.”

Eric nods, absently, unsure of how to respond. He brings his glass to his lips and takes a long swig of it, tastes green all the way to the back of his throat. It’s almost impossible to imagine that in twenty-four hours he could be drinking locally-produced white wine in the Washington Corridor. Earth feels so darn far away.

“What’ll you do on your vacation, then?” Eric asks after another long stretch of silence, mostly out of politeness that his mother persistently lectured into him over years. 

Jack’s attention is fixed on the moons, his profile sculpted by the sharp lines of his nose and cheekbones and chin. His eyes are so pale under the lilac moon -- big, slanted, annoyingly beautiful. He remains quiet for a moment, leans his weight on his palms and considers Eric’s question. His gaze is still flickering over the view when he says, finally, “I usually go see my parents. Read. Buy groceries.”

Eric snorts inelegantly. If he didn’t know any better, didn’t know Jack any better, that could almost be mistaken for a joke. “Buy groceries?”

“Yes,” Jack says, perfectly serious. His eyes flit over to meet Eric’s, and Eric holds them for only a moment before quickly looking away. His cheeks grow inexplicably warm. “I don’t really miss anything when I’m up here -- I mean, not really -- but I guess sometimes it’s nice to remember people. Stupid human stuff, eh? Supermarkets. Banks. I always think I'd catch a movie in the theatre but somehow I never do.”

He appears to be uncomfortable with his admission, face closing off once the words are out of his mouth. The sharp lines of his features twist back into a familiar scowl, but Eric watches them, him, thoroughly transfixed. The authentic snippet of personality cannot disappear under the reapplied mask this time; Jack has put something truthful on the table, a hint of something charmingly sentimental. A mundane humanity space can't recreate, newspapers and laundromats and coffee stands and taxes. Grocery shopping. Eric doesn’t know if the fast, erratic beating in his chest is at the sweet tinge of it, or the mere thought of Jack paying attention to such things.

“You should,” Eric finally finds his words somewhere in his strangled windpipe, slowly facing forward. Jack, and his continual ability to confuse. He can see Jack from the corner of his eye, turning his head to subtly raise both eyebrows at Eric. “Go to the movies. You should do it this time.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Jack says after a long pause. “I'll tell you how it went when we’re back here.”

“If I come back,” Eric sighs before he can catch himself, and then freezes, fingers clenching around his glass. Dang it. Dang it all to hell.

“What?” Jack asks, confused, and when Eric refuses to meet his eyes, shoulders squaring and chin dropping to his chest, Jack’s voice sharpens and he repeats, “What? What do you mean? Bittle. What do you mean.”

Eric exhales unsteadily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his free hand. He thought he'd have more time. He thought -- like he always does, and is always wrong -- that he’d successfully outrun his problems by denying their existence. He could try shoving those four incriminating words back into his mouth, but Eric can feel Jack’s intense attention focused on the side of his face. Once Jack stepped back into the professional boots of Commander Zimmermann, no denial will make him let this go. 

“I’m spending all of my leave in Texas. I gotta pass evaluation for the clearance to come back here with y’all. These past six months were my test run -- I’ve never passed the written exam.” Eric drags his shoe through the sandy ground, watches as the grooves he makes are swept away. “Y’all know I’m no good at the sciency stuff, Jack, alright. I don't need to hear it from you as well. If I don't get an adequate score I'm off the program for good.”

Eric chews the inside of his cheek and chances a side glance. Jack looks outraged, his thick brows drawn down and his entire face devoid of color. Eric’s immediate reflex is to flinch away, but Jack speaks before he can make a move. “What subjects?”

“What?” Eric asks, thrown completely off-balance. He was expecting a thundering reprimand at worst, an indifferent dismissal at best. He doesn’t know what the quiet, heated response he's gotten even is. 

"What subjects are they testing you on?”

Eric hesitates, body still braced for the blow that isn't coming. “Uh. All of the introductory subjects. Basic physics, geobiology... mostly modern astronomy. But I swear --”

“Alright,” Jack cuts him off with a single sharp nod, his chin sticking out slightly, like Eric has somehow pushed him to make up his mind. His expression, typically impassive, is now staggeringly transparent. “I’ll help you study for the written exam.”

“What?" Eric blinks several times, glances down to see if he's had more to drink than he thought, but the glass is still half-full and Jack's figure is still corporeal by his side, intense expression still in place. He doesn't fade away like the hallucination Eric is so sure he must be. "Jack -- what --?”

Jack doesn't seem to pick up on the astonishment that has Eric stumbling over his words. “We’ve got two and a half weeks, right? You need entry level stuff to pass that exam. If we study hard, you can do it.”

Eric thinks he might be gaping, his mouth hanging open and growing dry in the arid air, but he apparently isn't capable of collecting his jaw off of Vylos’ ground. “But… what… but you’ll be in Canada…?”

“I’ll stay in Huston,” Jack looks determined. “Bittle, we're a team. You should’ve told us before and we would’ve helped you. You’re a strong crew member, you’re smart, you’ve got an edge that none of us has got. If that’s the only thing holding you back we’re going to get you over it. Study clinic, day and night.” He pauses, the self-assurances faltering for only a moment, and the lines of his mouth soften somewhat. “Just trust me, okay?”

Eric is absolutely floored. The only foolish thing that manages to leave his mouth is, “What about going to the movies?”

Jack almost smiles. Eric has spied that expression on rare occasions before, but never directed at him, and never from up close. It does something to Jack's face that Eric can't put in words. “I’ll catch one on the next leave. Which you’ll be taking as well, ‘cause you’re not leaving the program. We've got each other's backs, Bittle.”

Under the moonlight, purple shadows carving his face from marble and a mellow half-smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards, Eric could almost let himself admit how handsome Jack is. Jack rubs the dirt off of one palm and slowly curls his fingers, holds them up in a silent offer. Eric can see the thin veins beneath the surface of his skin. He looks at the hand, looks up at Jack, and lets a tentative smile blossom on his face. He brings his clenched hand up to meet Jack’s, and bumps his fist.

[fandersrequests]

Prompt Fill | Moceit

Title: You Win Some, You Steal Some

Chapter: Chapter One: Good News, Bad News

Ship(s): Main Ship - Moceit (Eventual), Background Ships - 3 Surprise Ships

Summary: Janus Noirblanc may not be a real parent but he's every bit the dedicated guardian as all the PTA parents. When his little brother and ward comes home with a flyer advertising the next PTA bake sale, Janus decides its time to show these rich kid's parents how its done. Especially the cute dad with the cardigan always tied around his neck.

Prompt: PTA rivals. She did say in her prompt "plot twist - they are dating" but considering muse decided that this is gonna be a Big Ol' Fic, I'm hoping she forgives me.

Requester: @sunshineandteddybears​

Rating: PG-13

Chapters: One | Two

If you prefer AO3′s format, you can find the fanfic here. Also, the tag for this specific story/au is ywsyss au, if you want to track it for updates as I don’t do tag lists.

Chapter One: Good News, Bad News

"Hey."

Janus looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, heterochromatic eyes seeking the owner of the voice that had sounded through the apartment. 

“Virgil. My favorite son. Tell me, how was school today?” Janus called back.

The boy in question stepped into the living room, dropping his messenger bag by the couch. Janus caught the tail end of the double eye roll, smirking. 

“You’re crazier than I thought if you think I’m suddenly gonna tell you shit. Just because you are my guardian does not mean I’m gonna open up to you. You’re still my older brother and I’m not your son.”

“Sure thing, Hamilton.” 

Janus watched as his younger brother came to the couch, stretching his limbs for a few seconds. The older man snorted at the thought that he looked like a slinky alley cat stretching like that. A few more seconds and Virgil had slunk so far down into the couch that it almost seemed as if the couch was absorbing him. 

Silence fell between them but it was comfortable. It did make him think about the people who were awed when he told them he was raising his kid brother. They were certain Virgil must be a terror. He laughed and wiped invisible tears of glee before setting them straight; if anything, Janus was likely more of a terror for Virgil than the other way around. 

“Oh. I have something for you. Er, well… two somethings.” 

Janus raised a brow, an interested expression slipping onto his face. 

“Oh?”

Virgil blushed then. Or was it blanched. Honestly, it looked a lot like both with the way his cheeks were splotchy here and there. A hand rose to rub at the back of his neck and it was this along with the fact that Virgil would no longer look him in the eyes that told Janus that at least one of these something was a “bad” something. 

“Do I want to know?”

Virgil hesitated, his lip bit suddenly and he started to rock. Janus felt a rush of fear, knowing the signs that a panic attack could very well be not too far off. He took deep breaths himself and Virgil’s own breathing soon followed. The older man felt a rush of relief as he watched Virgil take one single deep, deep breath before letting it out slowly. Janus smiled at Virgil when the other looked his way once more, the pride easy to read in his gaze. Virgil said nothing about the almost attack. They had agreed with Virgil’s psychiatrist, Dr. Picani, that—for Virgil—bringing up the act could cause more anxiety so soon after and so they pretended as if nothing had happened until Virgil was fully calmed. 

“Okay, good news or bad news first?”

“Bad.” It would definitely benefit them both to end on the good note. 

Virgil nodded, having expected that, and rose. Janus watched as his brother made his way to his bag, crouching down to rummage through it. Virgil presumably pulled paper from it as when he stood up and returned, there were a couple sheets of paper in his hand. Virgil quickly shoved one of them at him. 

Janus took it, brow quirked as he took in the fear in Virgil’s eyes. Glancing down, Janus could see why. The paper was his most recent report card and Virgil had not done too well. 

Honestly though, it was definitely not his worst report card. In fact, his brother’s grades had been improving significantly over the last year and a half—ever since their parents had died in that car crash—and though Virgil tried to play it off, Janus made sure he told Virgil he was proud. Still, this report card showed he was still struggling in Algebra and Chemistry. Janus was certain that this time it was less depression and grief and more that Virgil just was not a natural at the “left brain” subjects. 

“Okay, so… we need a little more focus and study in Algebra and Chemistry but Virgil… this really isn’t that bad. You’ve had far worse cards than this—understandably so considering… well, not important. Point is, we can work with this, Virge. This does mean I’ll have to get you a tutor.”

Virgil suddenly stirred from his slouch, straightening up more than normal. 

“I’ve actually got a friend who knows this guy in our grade who is like… really smart. Especially in these subjects. Roman gave me his number if you want it?”

Janus narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know why but he was certain he could hear a hint of hope but that didn’t make sense… 

Oh. The boy’s got a crush on this kid.

He laughed silently to himself, not wishing to let Virgil in on the fact that he had figured out why he was acting a little strange. Part of him did want to tease but he decided that could wait. 

“Okay, yeah. Sure. I’ll have to interview him, of course.”

Virgil’s pupils dilated, presumably out of fear or worry but he masked his expression quick enough. When he nodded, Janus grinned. 

“Well, there it is then. All figured out. I’m going to hold onto this though.” 

Setting it on his lap, he nodded at the second sheet of paper that Virgil had retrieved, still clutched firmly in his hand. 

“And what’s this one?”

Virgil’s brows screwed up in confusion until he looked down at the paper in his hand, as if he had forgotten he was still holding it. Likely, Janus supposed, considering his fear at giving him the report card. 

“Oh! Right. That bake sale thing you always get so gung-ho about… they were passing out these in our classes. For the PTA. I thought, since you love cooking and baking so much, that you might enjoy it but then again, it’s for the PTA and you’re not really my parent and you probably think its dumb and I’m starting to regret calling it good news but… yeah.” 

Janus snorted and shook his head. 

“I mean, probably usually you would be right but I would love nothing more than to out bake all those prissy moms.”

Virgil snorted. 

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked as he handed Janus the flyer. 

Janus looked the flyer over. According to it, the bake sale would be the Saturday next at the school gym, 10:00 AM sharp. Janus would have to get off work that day but honestly, it would be so worth it. In fact, he supposed he might as well take Friday off as well. If he was going to out bake the rich kid’s parents then he was going all in. No sense doing something half assed, especially when showing rich people up. 

“I guess this means I’ll have to join the PTA. Any idea who runs it?”

“Logan’s mom… oh, uh… Logan being the guy that—”

“Yes, yes. The tutoring kid. I’ll just ask to talk to her when I call him about setting up some sessions.” 

Virgil blushed but said nothing as he slid his hands into the pockets of his favorite hoodie. Janus held back a teasing grin, not wanting to let his little brother in on the fact he figured it out. 

“Cool,” he said finally. 

“Mmhm.” 

Janus could feel the air around them growing awkward and he let Virgil chill in that awkward for a good, healthy few moments before clapping his hands together. 

“Well, I’d say that’s enough excitement for the evening. Now, I was going to cook but after this trying time due to that Report Card—”

“Ass.”

“—I don’t really feel up to it. How about I let you drive my car and you go pick us up some burgers or something?”

Virgil perked up after that, happily accepting the errand since it meant he got to drive. Janus had made sure that Virgil took Driver’s Ed and then the driving test, but they couldn’t afford a second car so Janus let Virgil drive when there were short errands that could be done close by. 

“Great.” Janus tossed his little brother the keys. “Be sure to readjust the mirrors and wear your seat belt.” 

“Yes, Mom.” 

Janus made a face at that before staring at his little brother pointedly. Virgil sighed. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But I do know all this stuff… but I know you’re just looking out for me.”

It was the closest he would get to a thank you and Janus was happy to take it. 

“I’ll text you what I want so you have it when you get there.”

Virgil nodded. Janus watched as he subconsciously checked for his wallet, phone, and keys in his hand. He smiled, knowing that he had taught Virgil that and it was so nice to see it stick. Next, Janus handed Virgil his card. 

“Fill the car up first. Then get the food.” 

“Kay. See you, loser.”

“Heh. See you soon, V.”

[pudgecuddles]

Fic Recs!

Sorry this took a while to compile, but here you go, just in time for your birthday @chocochub!

I went ahead and tried to describe any triggers or reasons for the rating (sex vs. violence). I’m sorry if I missed anything that makes you uncomfy that‘s the last thing I want!

Also I got really sleepy around the time I was formatting this so sorry if there’s any errors with links, grammar, or trigger warnings. I’ve tried to be as thorough as I can, but many of these I’ve finished over a year ago and can’t recall every theme or possibly upsetting event :(

•

Red Sky in Morning by GinForInk

Rating: E for Sex, Violence and Loss of Limb

Relationships: TaeJoon, YoonKook

Themes: Pirate AU, Curse AU, Adventure, Supernatural, Mystery, Horror

Summary: Captain Namjoon's cursed crew searches the Caribbean for a ship that can save them, and Namjoon's own men have more magic than they let on.

My notes: Even though there’s sex, it’s less smut and more romantic/stress relief than purposefully pornographic. Very heavy on Supernatural and Adventure. Characters are written very well! Definitely a favorite of mine.

•

Hijacker’s Island by Gobi17

Rating: T for semi-graphic violence and attempted sexual assault from a villain.

Relationships: None

Themes: Hijack Gone Wrong, Plane Crash, Island Survival, Befriending the Baddies, Psychological Thriller, Mystery, Action

Summary: Jungkook's flight home ends in disaster as a group of hijackers take over the plane, and events quickly spiral out of control.

My Notes: I really loved this one. It was an interactive story where the audience was able to choose what choices Jungkook (the main character) would make. His survival depended on the answers, and I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. There is a lot of platonic character bonding, so no sex, however there is a bad guy that fixates on Kookie that later attempts to sexually assault him. If this is triggering to you please do not read.

•

Butterfingers by jincherie

Rating: G

Relationships: RM/Reader

Themes: Co-workers, Teachers, Hybrids, Penguin-Hybrid Joon, Heavy Fluff, Penguin Courting uwu

Summary: He had you at the very first pebble he gave you.

My notes: Extremely cute. I’m not usually on for Reader fics as they’re usually rife with unneeded smut and OOC-ness, but I love Namjoon being an awkward, unusual Hybrid and I LOVE cute, animalistic behavior.

•

Do Not Meddle In The Affairs Of Dragons, For You Are Crunchy And Taste Good With Ketchup by Runchrandom

Rating: T

Relationships: OT7, but Namjoon-centric

Themes: Supernatural, Humor, Crack treated seriously, part of a series, Dragon-Joon

Summary: In which Namjoon is a man who doesn't know what he wants, then accidentally figures it out while turning into a very large lizard.

My notes: Part of a very cute and funny series of Supernatural boyband BTS, navigating their inherent differences and similarities. Also lots of protective Dragon Namjoon taking good care of his Treasures UwU

•

you have 1 new message by bazooka

Rating: T

Relationship: NamJin (my OTP)

Themes: Humor, Text Fic, Imbedded Pictures, Suspense/Mystery

Summary:

r u n c h r a n d a.

fuck

this is going to sound like the weirdest shit

okay look i used ur selcas to catfish and this older dude is gonna buy me stuff but i have to send him a selca with a peace sign

~ * ~ pingkeu jin ~ * ~

hahahahahahaha wtf

My notes: As someone who steers clear of text fics, this one I actually loved! Very funny and clever, the developing relationship between NamJin is hilarious. It also turns into a mystery/thriller???

(You can only read it if you have an Ao3 account as it’s locked to users only)

•

Vending Machines and Bad Ideas by smiles

Rating: G

Themes: Blind Dates, Meet Cute, Humor, Rom-Com

Relationships: 2Seok

Summary: Hoseok needed to focus, regroup. He needed to evaluate the situation, weigh his options, and find a solution. He needed to work through this like the capable adult he was. He needed to get his hand out of this stupid vending machine.

My notes: 2Seok is a guilty pleasure of mine lol. This was cute, funny and sweet.

•

Human by SunShineSwag

Rating: E for Graphic Violence, Many Murders, Sex, Mentions of Past Abuse and Temporary Character Death

Themes: Serial Killer/Dexter AU, Suspense/Mystery, Romance, Crime, Fluff, Hobi Teaches Yoongi How To Emotion™

Relationships: SOPE, NamJin, side VMinKook

Summary: During the day, Yoongi works for the police as a forensic expert.

But when night falls, he becomes a nightmare.

A serial killer.

My notes: Just finished this one and wow I’m so in love! It seems really intimidating from the tags and summary, but I swear it is also super ooey gooey soft and mushy. There is lots of angst, suspense and hurt/comfort, but with a very happy ending! I actually avoided this fic for a few months cause I didn’t think I was in the right headspace for something super dark, but it was actually quite fluffy.

•

Jungkook’s House for the Wayward Werewolf by Rivertoforever

Rating: T for Non-Sexual Intimacy

Themes: Supernatural, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, slight Dom/sub dynamics, Werewolfs, Very Non-Traditional ABO, Asexual/Poly Relationship, Roomate AUish

Relationships: OT7 but very Jungkook-centric

Summary: Being the only human in a household of werewolves can lead to strange experiences, mixed signals, weird behaviour and a lap full of fur.

My notes: This is one of my favorite stories of all time! It’s unfortunately unfinished and has been for a while, so if you’re not a fan of WIPs this won’t be for you :( Otherwise, I reread it all the time! I remember loving the relationship and dynamic between the characters and how they were all very respectful of JK not wanting to be physical with them. A year later I discover I’m Ace! Haha! I consider this fic one of the many things that pushed me in the right direction. It’s very cute, fluffy and soft!

•

[And uh... I considered putting this on the list before but thought it was a little too heavy on sex/smut so I took it off, but I’ll leave it here for you to decide. I think that the smut scenes in this fic aren’t necessarily there for “smexy cock fun times” and are more outright statements on gender equality, sociology, informed consent and healthy relationships. Hence why I’ve left it in!]

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Rating: E for Sex, Firm Dub-Con, Discussion of Non-Con, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships

Themes: ABO, Technically Aliens?, Societal Differences, Culture Shock, Kind of Sugar Baby AU, Viva La Omegan Revolution, Teaching Alphas to Not Be Dicks™, One Big Fat Metaphor for Real Life Gender Discrimination and Systematic Abuse

Relationships: VMinKook, YoonJinNamSeok

Summary: Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

My notes: This is the really long part one that just finished. It’s 50 chapters of emotional healing, statements on consent, character growth and sneaky omegas. I’m a huge fan of non-traditional ABO fics, and I love when sex is treated not as a “just cause I can”, but as an actual example of gender politics and relationship growth. If anyone is aspec, this might not be the story for you! But if you can mentally push past the idea of sex, I assure you it’s not “porn for the sake of porn”.

[aalbedo]

injured!tartaglia x reader (part 2)

part two of this

request: Hello I absolutely loved your one shot of Tartaglia helping an injured reader sdjgksjfkf if you don't mind I'd like to request a part 2 where reader asks him the story behind that big scar he pointed out? Maybe reader finds HIM injured and returns the favor and asks about his other scars while they treat his wounds?? Ahaha reader's just like "fuck I can't just leave you here to bleed out but don't you dare think this means I care for you or anything" lmao

format: two-parter (again, read part one first)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: fluff, reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?), author forgets basic wound care halfway into the fic

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 3027

notes: hey so uhhhhhhhh i kinda went off the rails with this one, i didn't really follow the prompt in some points since uh... the part about the stories behind the scars... i kinda forgot about that... or like... eh you'll see, anyway, - banner still fucked up it will be fixed i prommy

Despite the high number of hilichurl camps, abyss mages, fatui agents, ruin hunters and ruin guards, Lisha was still one of your favorite places to explore, it was full of treasure chests to open, sweet flowers to pick and ore to mine. Plus, the atmosphere managed to still be peaceful, the open fields where the sun would shine uninterrupted for hours and hours on end were your favorite place to sit down and bask in the sunlight.

Your leg was still recovering from the tough hit you had taken a few weeks prior, which meant that you had to take more breaks while adventuring. Not that you would complain, taking breaks, putting some numbing cream on your wound, eating some reinvigorating food and drinking fresh water was just as satisfying as exploring.

After resting for about half an hour, you decided to get up, careful not to put any pressure on your injured leg. You threw your bag over your shoulder and walked north-west, towards the road to the chasm.

In the distance, you started hearing sounds of fighting, and as you got closer to them, you could see a tall figure fighting not one, but two separate ruin hunters, with a bow. It was too far away to see the person’s face, but you had half an idea of who it could be.

Then, out of nowhere, a bright purple flash, and in less than a second the ruin hunters were both on the ground, completely destroyed. Yep, it’s Tartaglia.

You thought about turning away and changing your direction before he could see you. You had already reluctantly thanked him for helping you that day, as well as paying for your medication out of his own pocket, but you still felt like you owed him a favor that you really did not want to fulfill. He was still the guy that almost destroyed Liyue, and made you fight for your life, despite everything.

Until you saw him fall to his knees, and as he turned to face your direction you could see his chest covered in blood.

You acted on instinct, ignoring your brain telling you to leave him alone, that he could tend to his own wounds, and you sprinted towards him. He may be an asshole, but you just want to avoid him, not leave him to die.

He was resting his back on a wall, head thrown back. Even from far away, you could see that he was breathing heavily. That same backpack you had seen on him the day he helped you was now sitting next to him, his left hand already rummaging through it.

His head shot up, he had definitely heard you coming towards him, his eyes widened as you kneeled down right in front of him and got a better look at his condition. You could see a cut crossing his chest, from his right shoulder to the middle of his torso, right over his heart. His grey coat was soaked in blood, as it pooled on the bend of his hips and slid down to the ground.

“So you do care about me.” he broke the silence, struggling to talk through heavy breaths and groans. He was completely out of breath, covered in blood, definitely in pain, and all he could think about was joking.

“I don’t. Just because I hate you, it doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.” You didn’t have time to get mad at him. “Also - I owe you a favor, I guess.” The only thought in your head was to help him, so you did not think twice before quickly unbuttoning his coat and undercoat and moving them out of the way.

You got a look at his chest and through the blood you could see several other scars, most of them looked years old, a few of them looked pretty large, carving his chest and abdomen. You wondered if his entire body looked like this, and why his face didn’t.

“Like what you see?” he joked again, his voice sounded hoarse, strained, very clearly struggling to talk. You sighed, couldn’t he just shut up for a minute?

You turned to your own bag to pull out anything you might need to help him. Potions, numbing cream and even a stitching kit laid next to you. You had bought the kit after that day, and started learning how to stitch wounds.

“No,” you dismissed him again. He whined quietly, you weren’t sure if it was because of your response or the wound.

All of the sudden, you felt… fear? Fear of what? Him passing out? And anger, at the fact that he wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as you were. He could easily die from this wound and all he was doing was making jokes.

You quickly started cleaning the blood with a cloth in one hand, while holding a bottle of antiseptic potion in your left, ready to pour it on top of the cut. You were being quick, passing your hand over his chest as fast as you could, trying to gather all the blood while avoiding the open skin, but there was so much of it that in mere seconds the cloth was soaked and completely useless.

You looked up at him and he was staring at the ground, his eyes completely unfocused. “Childe,” you called him and he squeezed his eyes closed, “try to stay awake.”

“Easy to say,” he muttered. At least he was awake.

You threw away the bloody cloth, and poured the antiseptic potion directly on his scar with no warning. Despite knowing that you were just helping him, a wave of guilt washed over you as you heard him cry out from the pain and throw his head back, wincing again when he hit the wall.

Half a bottle of potion and another clean cloth drenched in blood later, the wound had completely stopped bleeding, and you finally breathed out all the tension you were holding in your body.

His face, and body, were completely pale from the blood loss. His mouth was agape, eyelids half closed - looking at you, he sighed, barely letting any air out. You glared back, but by the way his head was positioned, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the way they moved slightly every time he breathed out, they seemed so… soft, sweet. You brushed aside a thought that had snaked into your brain. His mouth curled up and he barked a laugh, but he stopped immediately and groaned again. Had he noticed that you were looking?

“Don’t laugh, it’ll hurt you,” you reminded him as you threw away the second blood drenched cloth.

“Sure,” he replied, voice still strained. “Whatever you say.”

You find a third cloth, the only clean one you had left, used some water from your bottle to make it damp and used it to wash your hands.

“Don’t talk either,” you looked at him as you opened a small glass jar containing numbing cream. “What were you thinking, being here alone and fighting two ruin guards?” He opened his mouth. “Don’t answer, you’ll tell me later.”

“I was just collecting some debts when those two attacked me.” He groaned again.

“I said, don’t talk if it hurts.” You made it clear from your tone that you were annoyed at the way that he was acting.

You dipped a couple of fingers into the cream, and hesitated before placing your bare hand on his chest, carefully placing the cream around the wound, so that he would not feel pain when you would be stitching it closed. As you got a better look at the cut, you noticed how the skin had been basically mangled, it looked like it would not be an easy recovery.

“You look like you know what you’re doing,” he pointed out, before groaning again. You were starting to wish you had taped his mouth with something.

“Because I know what I’m doing, I’m not an idiot. And you’re making me regret helping you, just shut up already.”

“Make me.”

Your hand froze over his skin. You moved your eyes back up to him, trying to decipher his expression. Was that an invitation, or just teasing? He hadn’t even tried to put on a smug face, his expression just looked tired and worn out, which made it even harder to decipher.

The longer you looked at him, the weirder it would get, you would have to do something before it got awkward and that thought from earlier slammed back into your head.

You wanted to wish you had run the other way, but the truth was that you were glad you hadn’t. Maybe it was all of the tension you had accumulated while seeing all that blood flow out of him, maybe it was the heavy lidded look he was giving you, but you placed your clean hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes widened, mouth parted ready to say something, but, before he could, your lips were on his.

The kiss was fast, you pulled back almost immediately and averted his gaze right away. You could feel him staring at you as you put your hand back into the jar and picked up some more cream.

“I didn’t think you would actually-” he didn’t finish the sentence.

You quickly caught a glimpse of his expression before focusing on taking care of the wound. You contained a laugh as you saw him look absolutely dumbfounded and flustered, he had seriously been rendered completely speechless by what could barely be considered a kiss. If he hadn’t lost that much blood that day, his cheeks would definitely be red.

Honestly, you couldn’t believe what had happened either. You couldn’t believe you had even done it. You could’ve just laughed it off and kept medicating him in silence. But you were glad that you didn’t.

Neither of you uttered a word for a while, and even though the atmosphere wasn’t explicitly awkward, you wished he would say something. After a thick layer of numbing cream and several minutes of silence, you finally gathered the courage to look back at him. He was clearly pretending to look away, as if he hadn’t spent the entire time looking at you working.

“Is the pain gone? Can I stitch it now?” Your voice came out unexpectedly soft. You touched the skin around the wound, waiting to get a reaction from him.

His head snapped back to face you, and he nodded. “Can’t feel a thing,” he said as he touched his own chest. “I can stitch it though, if you wa- Ah!” He lifted his right arm, the injured one, and immediately stopped mid-air, “fuck- shit, not this,” he almost yelled.

“You ripped a tendon.” You gently took his right arm, putting it back down for him, and looked at his shoulder. “I’ll stitch it, don’t worry - I’ve learned.”

He didn’t say anything, and you took it as permission. You opened the kit you had bought at Bubu pharmacy weeks prior: recurved needle, thread and tweezers. You could feel Tartaglia’s gaze on you as you struggled passing the thread through the needle, but in the end you managed to do it.

As you hovered over the wound, your gaze fell on a large scar, the one that would normally be visible from over his coat on his neck, and it went down over the left side of his body down until his hip. It looked pretty old, but it was still very visible.

“Can I ask you… how did you get that?”

“Mh?”

You pointed at the scar with your pinkie and slightly traced over it, “this scar, what happened?”

He followed your finger with his gaze, and kept his eyes on the scar even as you moved back to the still open wound. “Oh, that?” You passed the needle through the skin and pulled it out on the other side. “I was 14.”

You saw some blood trickle from the cut as you carefully pulled the thread and passed the needle through one more time. By the way he had spoken, you felt like he was going to continue talking, so you didn’t interrupt.

“Uhm, when I was 14, I-” you heard him pass his tongue over his lips, “the Abyss, you know.” You nodded quietly as you passed the needle through a few more times.

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” you reassured him, you knew that it was a pretty sensitive topic, or at least you imagined it would be. You stitched a few more loops with ease, getting progressively more comfortable with what you were doing.

“It’s fine, I- I was in-” his voice was starting to shake the slightest bit, but you noticed the change of tone in his voice.

You finally reached the end, and you cut the thread, tying it tightly at the end. You put the needle and the tweezers back into their container.

“I had to fight this… huge- and when-” once you looked up at him, you realized how lost in thought he was, looking at his scar, unable to take his eyes off it, he was probably getting some flashbacks. “I-” his voice cracked, his lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and you could not bear it anymore. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed the side of his face and dragged him in for an actual, proper kiss.

He fell right into it and reciprocated immediately, placing his left hand on the side of your waist. It was sweet, and tender, and you got a better feel of what his lips were like: just as soft as they looked.

You pulled back first once again, and as you got to look at his surprised face, eyebrows raised and everything, your mind started racing. You had just kissed not just a Fatui, not just a Harbinger, but the Harbinger that had tried to kill you, that manipulated you and that nearly destroyed Liyue for the second time. And he was sitting in front of you looking like an idiot.

You couldn’t figure out what you were feeling, but there was something going on deep in your chest, and stomach.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you quickly clarified before he could say anything. “Neither of them do, they were just to shut you up.”

“Were they?” he asked. And just like that, he came full circle back to the false smugness.

You really, really did not want to think about the weird feeling that was growing in your stomach. “Look at what I got from Baizhu.” From your bag, you pulled out a thick strip made out of cotton and a small vial full of Slime concentrate.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“What do they mean to you?” you bit back, waiting to see if he would face the question himself, or back out like a hypocrite.

“What did you get from Baizhu?”

You both chuckled, and you noticed his bare chest rising and falling back down as he laughed. “He said it’s a new type of bandaging, you use slime concentrate to stick it to the skin.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t love the sound of that, actually.”

“I was skeptical too the first time I tried it, but trust me - it’s much more comfortable.” You heard him sigh in defeat as you already spread some of the slime condensate over the strip, and set down the half empty vial. “It won’t hurt.”

“Do you promise?”

He looked into your eyes with a relaxed expression, you looked right back. “I promise,” you replied with a kind smile, before turning your attention to the strip and stuck it over the wound, carefully placing it so that it would cover the entire cut.

“All done,” you said as you started getting up, but you felt a hand grabbing your arm, another one grabbing the side of your face, and tugging you back down, and before you could realize it your lips were once again on Tartaglia’s.

You couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss, his lips were still soft, and at that point you felt like you could get used to them. The kiss was exactly as gentle as the one before, you could feel your fluttering in your chest as Tartaglia’s thumb started gently rubbing your cheekbone.

He pulled back first this time, and as you opened your eyes back you could see a wide smile on his face.

“Sending me mixed signals, huh?” you pointed out.

“I told you, I never had anything against you personally,” he said as he put his clothes back on, trying to fix them as much as possible, despite the very clear cut on his chest and the blood covering them completely.

“I’m gonna need some time before I’ll believe that.” You got up and reached down a hand for him to get up. “You’re gonna need to prove it to me.”

He grabbed it with his non-injured hand and stood up beside you. “While you take your time, care to walk me to Bubu pharmacy, so I can buy some of these sticky bandages?” he asked, a wide smile still on his face.

“Sure,” you simply replied, picking up both of your back and tossing them over your shoulder.

You watched him move his injured arm slightly, to figure out how much he could move it. Unsurprisingly, not much.

He hummed. “I’m gonna have to take some time off from duty, hopefully they won’t kill me for it,” he said in a joking manner, but you could sense that he wasn’t kidding about the killing part.

“Well,” as you both started walking back to the harbor, you got an idea, “you could use the time off to show me that you truly don’t hate me.”

“Like what?” You could feel his gaze on you.

“Like, we could go out for dinner,” you suggested, keeping your eyes in front of you. “In a completely neutral way, and then see what happens from there.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’s a plan, then.”

[obviouslyelementary]

Confessions over Ice Cream

Am I going to supply the Nog/Jake fandom with all teh fanfics I can muster? Absolutely. 

I hope my old followers don’t mind.

(MIght make a dirty follow up if it comes up)

Tags: first kiss; confessions; the ds9 crew being annoying; mentions of oo-mox

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Another dangerous mission. Another set of nights without sleep, drifting off one or two hours before waking up on a rush with any sound that made its way to his ears. More and more he felt sympathy over misses O'Brien, having to stay aware of her husband through subspace communications or his father's own words. It was quite difficult, he understood it now. And Nog wasn't even his husband!

He was his friend.

Only his friend.

Jake caught himself thinking about that way more often than he would like to admit. They had been friends for years now, way too long, and it didn't seem to get any simpler. In fact, everything was turning out to be more and more complicated. He realized his feelings for Nog when he was what, fourteen? Fifteen maybe? Now he was past his twenties and that god damn feeling never left, in fact, it became stronger. One look at him and his heart jumped, his lungs squeezed and his stomach turned. Well, not anymore, but it used to do that. Now seeing Nog meant he was safe, and sound, and it brought a nice warmth to Jake's chest.

Julian and Dax knew about it, and wondered time and time again when he would open up the game. He insisted to them he would, eventually, when the time was right, but it never seemed quite right. In fact, he hadn't even summoned up courage to ask Rom or Quark about Ferengis and, well, same gender relationships. He did his research, and nothing he looked through seemed to point out any resistance against it, but who knew? And besides, every time he believed the timing was right, either he or Nog were in a relationship with someone else, and that always stopped him in his tracks.

But now, oh, he was regretting his cowardness. Nog had been away in a dangerous mission into the Gama quadrant for weeks, and hadn't returned yet. It was a mission supposed to last two weeks total, but they were coming around to the fourth with barely no contact between him and his team and the station. Last time they had contact had been two days prior, and everything seemed fine, but Jake couldn't shake away the feeling that something wasn't right.

It could be his anxiety talking, but still.

He was so nervous in fact that even his books weren't being touched. He hadn't written a single word since Nog didn't return on schedule, so there were seven days and counting without any progress. He didn't like it, he didn't like standing still and waiting, but he had to. He couldn't grab a vessel and run after him.

But he could pray, and hope, that Nog would be back soon. And indeed, someone in the vast universe heard him, because on the next day his father said that Nog and his ship would be back in three days. Apparently the delay was caused by a phenomenon they wanted to investigate before returning, not that Jake understood or cared about that space crap. Nog was coming back, and that was all that mattered.

On the day they were scheduled to arrive, Jake didn't sleep a single second, and he was right at the doors together with the senior officers to greet the ship's personal. As the officers left the ship and got into the station, Jake did his best to greet them without seeming too disinterested, but there was only one pair of ears he was waiting for.

Nog was one of the last ones to leave, luckily for the rest, because Jake grinned at him and hugged the Ferengi without caring about leaving the passageway open for the rest. Nog was quick to hug him back, finally having learned that some human affection didn't hurt, and even though Odo tried to tell them to leave, he had a heart not to bother them too much.

And after Nog finally greeted Kira, Dax, Julian and his father, they were finally free to leave and have a more private talk.

 "really Jake it was incredible! The formation of a nebula right in front of our eyes?! I have never seen anything so beautiful!" Nog said, ranting on and on about the trip, something Jake didn't care at all, specially over some delicious betazoid ice cream. "I-I'm sorry, I'm making this all about myself again... how were your days here at the station?"

"You have all the right to make this about yourself, my days here were as boring as ever" Jake chuckled, getting a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. The bar was quiet, empty. It early still for movement, and Quark and Rom were looking over the profits of the morning while preparing for the night shift. The station had an air of calmness around it, and they were pretty much alone, and Jake felt it. Like he felt the other times.

Maybe it was time to just... spill it out.

"Jake-"

"Nog-"

They stopped and looked at each other, before Nog snorted and Jake chuckled, shaking his head.

"Go ahead" Nog said, but Jake shook his head and nodded to him.

"No please, be my guest. What is it?"

"Alright alright" Nog grinned. "Jake, something amazing happened. I have to tell you. I'm so excited."

"Oh now I'm curious. What is it?" he asked, eyes widening as he leaned closer. Nog did it too, their noses almost touch.

"Jake... I got promoted" he said, giggling loudly, and Jake's eyes widened before he laughed and reached out for his friend, holding his shoulder.

"Oh my god Nog that's amazing! Congratulations!" he said, smiling at his friend's excitement. "Should I call you captain now?"

"Come on" he groaned, pushing Jake despite having a smile on his face. "You know I'm not even close to captain. But now I am a junior officer. Isn't that cool?!"

"It's cooler than cool! Ice cold" Jake exclaimed, and Nog grinned widely, tapping his shoulder. "I bet you are going to be captain in record time!"

"I wish" he chuckled, shaking his head and returning his attention to the ice cream. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

"Oh... yeah that, it's not half as exciting as a promotion" Jake chuckled, weakly, feeling as if the moment was already gone. Nog frowned and shook his head.

"Jake, no! I bet whatever it is will be very exciting! Let me guess... you finished your book?" he asked, and Jake shook his head. "No, I see I see... you started a new one? No? Okay you... you got a girlfriend?!"

"No Nog! Oh my, not even close!" Jake laughed because what else would he do. "No no no, none of that... it's just... it's nothing really."

"Nothing? Jake you never hid anything from me. Spill it out" Nog insisted, frowning at Jake, who felt bad for both of them. He sighed, nervously, and then nodded.

"Alright. Alright I will tell you. I love you" Jake said, like a band aid. Ripping it off. He looked down at his ice cream for a moment and then at Nog, who seemed to be waiting, and then became confused.

"Okay? I love you too. Now tell me what's up" he said, looking honestly concerned now, but Jake felt his cheeks warming up and shook his head.

"No Nog. That's it. I love you. I'm in love with you" he said, slowly, and Nog narrowed his eyes before they widened, his mouth opening slightly. "I told you, way less cool than being promoted."

"I..." Nog started, while Jake played with his ice cream, not really knowing how to make this easier. "Jake... What..."

"Yeah, I know it's a bit out of the blue, but it's the truth" he said, shrugging and looking at Nog with an awkward smile. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

"Jake... this... is this serious?" he asked, as if he didn't believe him, and Jake nodded as patiently as ever. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"Then don't say anything" Jake said, shaking his head. "You don't have to say anything. If you don't want to. Or you can say what's in your mind. Whatever that may be."

"In... my mind" Nog said, softly, and looked down at his dessert. "I mean... Ferengis don't really... have relationships with other species' males..." he tried, but jake shook his head.

"Okay don't... say what's in your head, say what's in your heart... unless your heart wants to punch me. Please don't punch me" he said, making Nog chuckle weakly despite his utterly confused face.

"I am not... going to punch you" he assured, in a way that didn't make Jake too confidant of the promise. "I just... don't... know."

"It's... it's fine if you don't know, I just don't want it to ruin our friendship. I just can't keep it to myself anymore. I was so worried about you during this mission and I was tired of being a coward that never... told you the truth" Jake admitted, sighing to himself. "At least this way, if something happens to you... you will know-"

"That you love me?" Nog finished, and Jake swallowed thickly before nodding. "Okay... I think... I think I have an answer for you."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah but it's not... verbal."

"It's not punching me, is it?"

Nog chuckled again, and despite that, Jake was still nervous, not really knowing what Nog was going to do. Then he shook his head, seeming a little calmer.

"No, I'm not going to punch you" he said, and leaned closer to Jake. "Do you trust me?"

Oh, Jake did. He trusted him with his life.

With a nod, he watched as Nog sighed, leaning over the table and getting closer and closer to Jake, tilting his head and gently, very delicately pressing their lips together. Jake's eyes fluttered closed, and he held the spoon tightly in his hand, never expecting but also wishing he could kiss Nog like this every day. Their first kiss after a childhood of hidden and repressed feelings, it sure felt much better than any girl or guy he had kissed before.

However, it didn't last long, because both of them heard a quite loud 'YES' coming from behind a set of flowers, and they pulled away to see no one other than Dax there, looking over at them, somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes, I just won... on tabo... yes" she tried, and then sighed. "They are not gonna fall for it, are they?"

"Absolutely not" Jake heard his father say, his head popping from behind the flowers next to Dax.

"Dad?!" Jake squealed, feeling even more embarrassed, but he wasn't alone. Julian appeared from Dax's other side, looking over.

"Well, at least we were able to capture this unique moment" he said, and Benjamin looked at him unamused, before Kira looked over with O'Brien.

"Can we please leave? This was such a waste of time" she complained, and Dax showed her the tongue just before the flower stand transformed into goo and then into Odo, who was shaking his head.

"Odo? Even you?!" Nog asked, clearly embarrassed out of his mind, but the shapeshifter just grunted.

"I was the only one supposed to be here. I don't trust you two together" he said, and then looked at the others. "They just decided to come with me, for a change."

"Alright alright could you all just leave or ask for something to drink? The boys are having a moment here, shoo" Quark complained from the bar, waving his hands at them while Jake let his head fall over the table and Nog shook his head, blushing up to his ears.

"This is the worst" Jake mumbled, and looked up at Nog as the others continued their discussion, accusing Quark of also being there to spy on his nephew. "We should probably get out of here."

"Could we go... somewhere we can continue what we stopped?" Nog suggested, seeming to blush even brighter, and Jake smiled at him before nodding, reaching for his hand and standing up.

"I know a place" he said, and pulled Nog out of the bar, heading to the lift so they could be alone while the... adults kept talking. "So... you like me back?"

"I did say I love you too, didn't I?" Nog smiled, more relaxed and almost softer than Jake had ever seen him. "Although... I never expected you to like me back."

"I never expected you to like me" Jake said, and then leaned closer, smiling down at his... friend? Partner? Lover? Boyfriend? He didn’t know yet. "But now that I know you do... I've always been curious to try out some of that oo-mox your uncle talks so much about."

"Oh my merchants Jake!" Nog squealed, pushing him away and getting a laugh out of him. "That is so inappropriate!"

"Not for a Ferengi is not. They do it all the time!"

"It's a business strategy and yes, my uncles does it too much. It is very intimate, no matter what he says."

"Has anyone ever-"

"NO! And I'm not like other Ferengi, I'm a star fleet officer!"

"Oh come on, just lemme touch it?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"M-maybe but when we are alone!"

"Like in our quarters?"

"... p-perhaps."

"Nice."

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Llyr and the Pirates - Day 26

Oh, what’s this? Writing? From Boa? Absolutely. This is a piece that couldn’t quite fit in the prompt list from Water Whump May, and as of a few months later when I’m updating this post, I have decided to discontinue use of the prompt list entirely in favor of my plans for this story. 

(Despite me meaning to make this about 1000 words, it’s turned into the biggest piece in the series so far with just over 3500). Still in compliance with the same story, but will be returning to the prompt list in the next piece. The masterlist with the rest of the series is here! Tag list (dm to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insanitywishes, @whumpingonarainyday, @burtlederp, @pepperonyscience Content warnings: climbing up to and threat of falling from a dangerous height, mild gore for short description of wounds, knives, noncon touching, vague mentions, threats of, and fear of death

Floyd’s hands were shaking when it was his turn, and he lowered himself quickly down the rungs. He stopped halfway down when the ladder ended, bracing himself with a deep breath. Then he let go.

Floyd fell down feet first, splashing into the water and plummeting beneath the surface. He held his breath, but water still shot up his nose with such force that he nearly choked on the air locked away behind tightly sealed lips. The sloped sea floor stopped his descent and he kicked upwards, the light fabric of his pants flaring outward with each frantic stroke. 

Seconds later, he broke the surface and heaved a breath of fresh air, eyes burning from the saltwater. He pulled himself forward until his feet hit sand, stumbling up the underwater incline and splashing through knee level water as he wiped the stinging salt from his eyes. His clothes, though thin, were still soaked through and his hair was plastered against his forehead, trying to drip water into his teary eyes.

He huffed, trying to expel the last of the brine from his nose while combing wet bangs back with his fingers. He gave a quick shake to each of his limbs, water droplets flying off in all directions, before trying to wring any excess from his clothing. The rest of the pirates around him were doing more or less the same thing.

When they’d all dried off as much as they could, Mabel led the way across hard-packed wet sand that gradually elevated and gave way to looser land. Every step sunk further down into it and Floyd could feel the grains piling in his shoes, crunching and grinding against his feet as he moved. 

All around the strip of sand there were rock formations that kept them out of sight from the sailors as they approached. They’d been weathered down by strong, crashing waves over years and years and many of them looked to be quite precarious. Floyd was careful to cast his gaze upward as they walked, concerned about the potential of any rocks falling from their perches. 

Every so often, there was a break in the rocks through which, if he was at just the right angle, he could spot the shipwreck. Each time he looked through a crack, he could tell they’d gained considerable distance on it and could see more and more of what was happening on deck. 

Most people seemed to be focused on operating cannons, but as The Thief’s Halyard moved further out of sight to turn around, the crew dispersed to take care of different areas. Many disappeared below deck, and most others turned to guard the outside of the ship. 

Were they expecting an ambush? Had they somehow seen the rescue team disembark? Floyd wasn’t sure either way, but he knew there was no way for them to get on board when the other crew’s focus wasn’t on defending against a direct naval attack.

Thankfully, by the time they reached the end of the rocky outcropping, The Thief’s Halyard had finally turned around and was sailing back across the cove’s opening. Once only a few sailors were still focused on their side of the ship, Floyd seized the opportunity and ran forward. The rest of the crew made their way to sneak in through the cracked portion of the ship while Floyd stood under the hull, unwrapping the rope from where it still hung across his torso. 

The hooked metal at the end was fairly weighty, and the edges were sharp. It looked like it should be able to pierce through wood, but he still felt the need to test it against the belly of the ship. Floyd leaned back, swinging forward and catching the hook against the wood with a satisfying thwack. It stuck.

Satisfied with his test, he levered the grappling hook out of the ship and backed up far enough to clearly see the highest edge of the deck in front of him. It rose about twenty-five feet out of the ground, the rest of its height presumably swallowed up by the sand. He swallowed nervously, gripping a little lower on the rope to allow room for the hook to swing, and looped the rest of it around his other hand. 

Floyd swung the hook like a pendulum, slowly, carefully making sure not to nick himself with the edges. After a few careful repetitions, he flicked his wrist and spun the hook all the way around, repeating again and again as it gained speed. When it was finally spinning fast enough, Floyd focused on the balcony above. 

One final push of the wrist and he let go, throwing himself forward with the movement of the rope. The grappling hook went soaring through the air as he held his breath in anticipation. It flew right between two banisters, sinking its sharp edges deep into the ledge there. Floyd ran forward, tugging and leaning his weight on the rope to make sure it was secure enough, and it held.

He breathed a sigh of relief, putting both arms on the sturdy rope and preparing to haul himself up it. The thick knots spread throughout the entire length made it easier to gain leverage and hold himself as he jumped up, perching his feet on the first one, and climbing from there. Floyd tried to focus on pushing with his legs, but he grew weary with each step and needed to start pulling with his arms as well. 

He was halfway up the rope when it jerked the first time. A yelp escaped him before he could stop himself, and he looked up to see what had caused it to shift. It took him a moment to notice, but the banister had moved ever so slightly. Now that he was closer it was more clear to see that the wood around where he’d thrown the grappling hook was rotting through, and bending under the pressure of his entire weight held on it. 

Floyd grunted, pushing himself to climb faster, and the rope jerked so hard he nearly lost his grip altogether. He could have stopped then and made an effort to climb more smoothly, but the only thing he could think of was getting up as quickly as he could.

His whole body burned with the effort of it, but he threw himself up the rope with wildly frantic movements and reached the top right as the wood cracked again, leaving Floyd supported by a few planks of wood hanging on for dear life. He lunged for the railing, scrambling over the edge before it could crack and send him plummeting back down to the ground, and fell to his knees on the deck.

He gasped for breath, hugging himself for a moment before looking up at his surroundings. He was on the highest level of the ship with only two other people around him. Llyr lay on the ground closest to him and then tied to the wheel was...

“Ray!” Floyd gasped breathlessly, stumbling across the deck, “Ray, c’mon,” he urged in a whisper, dropping to his knees in front of the man. He was tied to the wheel by thick, bloodstained ropes, the rest of his body completely limp.

Floyd reached out a trembling hand to cup and lift Ray’s face, the scraggly beard under his fingers greasy with dried sweat. There weren’t any visible injuries there, but somehow it still looked like he’d gone through hell. 

“Ray please, I’m here... We’re gonna get you out but you’ve gotta wake up…” Floyd said, shaking him. When that didn’t do anything, he reached to unsheathe his sword. If Ray was going to be unconscious for a while longer, then he might as well work on freeing him from those ropes. Sliding the blade between his wrist and the tight bonds without hurting him proved to be fairly difficult, and Floyd had to be careful to push outward and saw at it, rope fibers splitting at the pressure and movement.

It was as he’d gotten nearly halfway through the first rope that he felt movement. Ray’s fingers twitched, flexing as he slowly raised his head. Floyd went to remove his sword so he wouldn’t panic, but it was at that very moment that the man twisted his wrists to test the bindings. Floyd pulled downwards and he only realized his mistake when the sword blade dragged a long, shallow cut into Ray’s skin that immediately welled up with blood.

“Oh shit, shit I’m sorry!” He apologized frantically, watching as Ray’s eyes snapped wide open and flicked around unseeingly.

“No- no please, no more… haven’t you done enough? Don’t… don’t-” he pleaded, slurring the words together with exhaustion. Floyd let his sword clatter to the ground and reached out both hands to hold Ray’s face again, encouraging him to look up.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he soothed, but his friend flinched and let out a high, airy keen at the command, breaths after that so short and quick that he was nearly hyperventilating. “I- um, okay no, uh… just- breathe, can you breathe? Yeah, ah, take deep breaths, alright? You don’t know where you are, and I- I know you’re scared, but you’ve gotta breathe before you do anything else,” Floyd said, tears welling up in his eyes at the memory of hearing those same exact words spoken to him a long time ago. He never thought he’d be the one passing them on to another.

He heard Ray respond to that at least, quick shallow breaths turning to heaving gasps as his eyes refocused and settled on his rescuer’s. They flicked over his face before he gasped softly.

“...F-floyd?” 

“Yeah, Ray, it’s me,” He nodded, smiling a little shakily despite himself. “I gotta cut this; can you hold still?” 

Ray nodded weakly, head lolling back against the wheel, and Floyd got to work cutting the ropes. He ended up holding back Ray’s arm with his elbow, not trusting the weak man’s promise to hold himself together, and cut until there was just enough room to wiggle Ray’s wrist out.

The moment his arm was free, Ray fell forward without the support and Floyd hardly caught him before he pulled too hard on his other shoulder or hit the ground face first. He wrapped an arm around his back, leaning forward as Ray whined softly against his shirt. 

Floyd tightened his grip, preparing to haul him up when he felt something warm and wet pressing against his forearm. Ray tensed, a pained cry muffled against his shirt, and Floyd stilled. He loosened his grip and peered down, finally catching a glimpse of Ray’s back.

Long, rough lash marks stretched across the pirate captain’s back at all angles, leaving nearly none of the smooth, undamaged skin that he’d expected to see. Most were split open and torn, blood still oozing out of them and smearing, drying, and congealing all over. Almost each mark had a gruesome tear near the middle that cut nearly all the way to the bottom. They ran deepest around the small of his back where- where he was still holding on, Floyd realized with a jolt.

He jerked his hand away and sticky, half-dried blood came with it as Ray finally cried out, an agonized scream rising up above the sounds of cannons and battle as the crew of The Thief’s Halyard ambushed the lower deck. 

“Oh- ...oh my god,” Floyd breathed in horror, staring at the blood smeared all across his hands and forearms. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop seeing those wounds. The picture was seared into his mind, and he couldn’t keep himself from imagining just what had happened to cause injuries like that.

Floyd was frozen for a few seconds, eyes hollow as he stared down at his hands, then tilted his head up to see Ray staring at him with an almost guilt-ridden expression on his face. Tears shimmered in his eyes, rolling silently down his cheeks until they dripped onto the floor below. 

“I-” Floyd opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, still at a loss for what to say. His head felt empty and hollow, and so did any words he thought to offer. Instead, he carefully nudged his captain up by the shoulders so that he could slice through the ropes holding his other wrist up. 

Floyd held back his own tears as he worked, hands trembling with despair, disappointment, and unbridled anger at seeing his captain in this state. Ray may have committed some unpleasant acts in his career as a pirate, but nothing he’d ever done warranted… this.

As he cut, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Nobody was there except for Llyr, still laying passed out on the ground. Floyd’s heart dropped in his chest. He would’ve expected the other man to have stirred by now, and at this distance he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing at all.

Was he…? Floyd glanced at Ray, then back at Llyr again. He needed to check on the unconscious man, make sure he was in a decent state to escape and then find Hugh if the others hadn’t done so already. But he couldn’t just leave Ray here...

With a wavering sigh, he turned back around and set himself to freeing Ray. Once he had that done, then he could focus on the others. One at a time, Floyd assured himself. One at a time, and then they could get out of there.

He didn’t even hear the footsteps behind him until they were too close to avoid. 

“Oh, if it isn’t Floyd himself. Fancy meeting you here,” Hugh smiled dully, waving as he strode over. Floyd spun around, sword held out in a white-knuckled grip. 

“What- oh, Hugh! I didn’t see you, are you-”

“I’m fine, but they sure aren’t,” he waved to Llyr and Ray, who was now staring up with a weak glare. He lifted his free hand to tug at Floyd’s sleeve, but Hugh extended an arm to help him stand up before Ray could try anything. “Help Llyr for a moment? I can handle Ray,” he smiled, pulling an unfamiliar knife from his pocket and flicking its sharp blade open with a flourish.

Floyd considered objecting, glancing back at Ray and biting the inside of his cheek as he watched his whole head rock from side to side. He took a step to kneel back down, determined not to leave Ray’s side, but Hugh held out the hand with the knife in a placating gesture as he swiftly sunk down and steadied their captain.

He figured he really didn’t have much of a choice then, and that they’d get out of there either way. Stupid, selfish idiot, he chastised himself. As if Llyr wasn’t in dire need of help as well.

Floyd knelt swiftly beside Llyr, who looked even worse at a closer glance. A few puncture wounds sunk deep into his legs, as well as a large, curved line of tears that almost looked to be a bite mark.

The first thing he did was slip his fingers underneath the boy’s chin and press down, trying to find the pulse point. His heart raced the longer he went without finding it, and he was nearly losing hope when he felt a weak, faded beating deep between his neck and jaw. Floyd allowed himself a shallow sigh of relief, but his work wasn’t over yet. 

He needed to somehow force Llyr into consciousness so he’d be able to handle himself when they ran. Ray surely wouldn’t be able to, and Floyd was already worried about him, so having someone else completely incapacitated would make everything even more difficult.

“Llyr!” Floyd shouted as loudly as he dared into the other man’s ear, prodding at his face. No response. He sighed, glancing around him for anything that could help when he spotted a few buckets lined up by the railing. If those had water… He hopped to his feet, running across the deck and feeling the thrill of hope race up his spine when he discovered they were all full, presumably with fresh water from the storm that had just passed. Floyd grabbed one by the handle and hauled it over to where Llyr lay, crouching back down at his side. He first tried dipping a hand in it and flicking water against Llyr’s face, but when that didn’t work Floyd dunked both hands in, scooped up as much water as he could hold, and threw it down at him. 

That got a flinch, and a slow stirring as the other peeled open hazy eyes, squinting up at Floyd.

“...th’ hell?” he coughed, throat scratchy and dry. 

“You’re alright, you’re safe,” Floyd assured him, trying to lean over and get a good look at him without looming. The wounds down on his thighs were more serious than they first appeared, and he suspected Llyr had already lost a large amount of blood from that. The bite mark on his calf looked to be especially deep, and would surely make it difficult to walk. 

When his gaze flicked back up to Llyr’s face, he saw a pair of suspicious eyes watching closely at his every move. He didn’t seem to trust Floyd one bit.

“Hey, you remember me, right?” he asked, and the look he got in return was a little more vacant. “I’m Floyd; I helped you out back on the other ship.” A blank look, then a slight nod. “Right, and I really need to help you now so we can get everyone out of this miserable place, okay?”

Surprisingly, this got a weak nod and a small sound out of him that was immediately covered by a coughing fit. As Floyd reached out to help Llyr sit up, he heard Ray make a small sound and instinctively glanced over to make sure everything was alright. 

Ray looked to be in about the same miserable shape as before, though, and Hugh flashed a reassuring smile that eased his worries and allowed him to focus back on Llyr.

Meanwhile, Hugh slid closer to Ray, pressing the knife to his wrist and whispering low enough that Floyd wouldn’t hear.

“Don’t go telling the little one anything he doesn’t need to know yet, Raymond,” he smiled, laughing lowly. “Let him figure something out on his own for once.”

Ray opened his mouth to respond, but Hugh jerked the knife against his wrist, opening a shallow cut that dribbled blood down his arm. He gasped softly before shutting his mouth, trying to avoid irritating Hugh any further. He was completely at the other man’s mercy for the moment, and he still needed to get out of this alive.

“I just told you not to try that again. If this is what I have to do in order to silence you, then, well...” Hugh sighed, almost mournfully. “One little slip of the blade... that would be a sad accident to behold, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m-” Ray cut himself off when he felt the knife move against his wrist again, but quickly realized it had only turned outward to cut the rope. “-not sure Gawain would approve either,” he let out the rest of his words in a rush of quiet breath, tensing as he waited for a response.

“Then I wasn’t here at all, and that poor fool who scaled the side of the ship just couldn’t cope with the state he found you in. Had to put you down mercifully, the quickest way he could bear,” Hugh mused, making sure to slide the dull edge of his knife against Ray’s skin as he sawed through the bindings, a casual, constant warning of what else he could do. Ray grunted when the tip of the knife caught against the cut Hugh had already made, pulling a vertical slash through the center. 

“Maybe you should do your job and protect the captive-”

“Maybe you should keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Hugh hissed. He wiggled the knife, getting through the last few fibers before Ray could slip that hand out as well. Despite his best efforts, he collapsed forward into Hugh’s arms, who held him for just a moment before pushing back, letting him slump to the floor.

Hugh felt triumphant standing over the fallen captain, and he would have loved to spend more time in that moment if it weren’t for unfinished business elsewhere. Letting out a sigh he turned around, adjusted his grip on the knife, and strode over towards Floyd.

Next part

[nookisms]

You know, seeing the fandom split between the good and bad of "you must like this character or else" and "tag stuff properly" is an ironic mirror of what's happening in the series.

(Before I continue, this does not mean we should decide a character is 100% bad and hate them for all their tiny mistakes, that's just as toxic as pretending they're perfect)

In here, all character criticism is based on their characterization in the show, it is NOT saying they're unsympathetic or bad. All the screenshots I use will be from my folder of the video scripts that I've tried to share several times. (I have not finished formatting all the scripts, so seeing some names being bold and others not is because of that) Please ask if you want me to share the folder again. I've tried at least three times and it's gotten nowhere.

Confused about the paralleling? Let me explain. What's currently happening in the show? What's the current issue that Character Thomas is working through?

The mentality Patton's giving him that he must do what's good for others, pretending that he's perfect. "You must be good for everyone to like you" kind of thinking. A point of mind that if you do anything wrong, you're bad.

(Screenshot from SvS) See? A mentality that "You ARE perfect. You've done NOTHING wrong. If you do something wrong that doesn't please everyone, you're BAD."

Seem familiar?

A portion of the fandom's current mentality: "You can't hate [character] or write unsympathetic [character]! They haven't done anything wrong!"

Take what Logan says to Thomas here:

(Screenshot from DWIT) The world isn't black and white, and neither are the Sides. Yeah, Thomas sees them as black and white, good and bad, light and dark, but does that mean they ARE? No. They're not.

Fandom parallel: "None of the Sides are 100% good or bad, we all have our own ways we see them, all you have to do is say how you feel about them (AKA tag appropriately) so that people who don't see them the way you do (AKA don't like certain unsympathetic Sides, certain sympathetic Sides [this includes all six of the ones we know now], and certain ships) are able to not see them"

Who sounds less toxic at the moment? Patton or Logan? Hopefully you say Logan, because if you say Patton I'll have to give you this lesson all over again but more in depth and I don't currently have the time.

EDIT: I HAD A CONCLUDING PARAGRAPH HERE AND TUMBLR DELETED IT PLEASE CHECK NOTES

[catquarry]

Wavedwhelk’s FMA Fic Masterlist

IN ALL MY YEARS IN THE FMA FANDOM I HAVE NEVER MADE A FIC RECOMMENDATION LIST....Well I decided it was about time to fix that

This is what I’ve compiled in the last 9 years. A few of the fics are deleted but reuploaded by me (or others) so the reading format might be a little wonky

Also none of these feature ships (if they do it’s really mild edwin or royai)

PDF version of this list can be found here

Fic Status Key

Active - Updates reliably (Once every 1-3 months or more)

Dormant - Fic updates, but sporadically (Once every 4-12 months) with occasional updates from the author on other websites

MIA - Fic hasn’t been updated in more than 12 months and there’s no updates from the author

Dead - The fic hasn’t been updated in 2 or more years and the author seems to have moved on

Complete - The fic is complete

Harry Potter/Fullmetal Alchemist Crossovers

Circulus by Phenobarbital

Official Summary: 

They're still not sure exactly how they ended up on the magic side of a place called London, but Edward and Roy are not new to dealing with the unexpected.

Needing to find a way back to Amestris, back to their own time, together they figure out how magic energy works, and how it can work for them specifically and in the end, the decision to go to Hogwarts is a mutual one. Edward will have to go to high school and Roy will have to get used to using a wand.

Neither of them are prepared for what they find at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.

There are secrets, liars, murderers and too many people with very dangerous agendas, no one seems trustworthy, so naturally they should stick together...

...but then Ed starts lying to Roy.

My Thoughts:

THIS IS HONESTLY MY FAVORITE FIC. I don’t want to spoil anything but everyone is written SO well and the plot goes far beyond the standard “FMA characters stuck in the HP world”. Ed’s also kind of evil (partly an act and partly for real in his own Ed way) and that ups the suspense significantly. Basically if you’re not going to read anything else on this list PLEASE read this one

Fic Status: Dormant

Warnings: Tags mention pairings that will be revealed in the future, but for now nothing’s definitive 

The Colours of the World by MiaKusakabe

Official Summary: 

When Roy Mustang went to retrieve his eyesight from Truth, he wasn’t expecting to end up doing a job in exchange. It couldn’t even be an easy job, of course, because Edward’s assessment of Truth was a pretty accurate one.

My Thoughts: 

THIS IS MY FAVORITE ROY OUT OF ANY FMA FIC. GOD he is written so well here. Unlike most of the other fics here, Roy willingly chooses to go into the HP world, and because of that there’s less stress on Roy trying to get home and more on him living in the world and working around it. Overall a really incredible fic and I highly highly suggest reading it

Fic Status: Dormant - Occasional updates on the authors patreon

Harry Potter and the Eastern Sage by LiteratureWork

Official Summary: 

Nicholas Flamel was famous for creating the philosopher's stone, but like Lockhart's smile it was all a lie. Flamel stole a part of the stone and it took Edward 642 years to get it back along with the souls inside of it, one which was his brother. But after traveling to Hogwarts to retrieve it, Dumbledore has other plans for the ancient hero.

My Thoughts: 

A REALLY interesting take on a HP/FMA crossover. It’s a half-AU where Ed turns into a Philosopher’s Stone at the end of FMA:B (with everyone from Amestris in the stone) and him being flung into the Harry Potter world. The author put a lot of time into worldbuilding and carefully weaving Ed into the HP universe so it seems completely normal that he’s lived in that world for 1,000 years

Fic Status: Dormant

Cerulean Silver vs Amber Gold by hikaranko

Official Summary: 

Edward Elric has been put on his stupidest assignment yet: babysitting. Everyone else calls it undercover work. To Ed, it's babysitting. But there's more to this assignment than what's on file…

My Thoughts: 

A lighter and more fun HP/FMA crossover that centers around Ed and Draco’s interactions. Draco hates Ed and Ed hates his job basically. Not super plot heavy, but the character interactions makes up for it

Fic status: Dormant - Being rewritten on AO3

About a Boy by EstaJay

Official Summary: 

Portkeyed away on the night of his parents' murder, Harry Potter grows up as Roy Mustang. Magic is nothing more than another one of his aunt's stories but after the Promised Day, his past catches up to him. With the Elrics suddenly in London and his dormant magic finally and violently revealing itself, it's a cross continent journey to get the brothers back. If only wizard transportation didn't involve so many explosions…

My Thoughts: 

Was really unsure about this fic initially - the premise just seems too farfetched to enjoy, but after the first chapter you realize the author put in a lot of time to make sure Roy/Harry and the rest of the cast stayed in character. I think it’s a really cool twist on the standard HP/FMA crossover formula and definitely worth a read

Fic Status: Dormant

Penance by Laora

Official Summary: 

The Gate was opening; the black arms stretched toward him and Pride. Ed knew he had no say in the matter. He would be pulled to this parallel dimension, alternate universe—whatever it was—and Amestris would be left to die. Truth merely grinned.

My Thoughts: 

It’s been a couple years since I read this, but I remember I really liked the twist that Pride was stuck in the HP universe along with Ed and Al

Fic Status: Complete

Playing God by The Flamel Cult

Official Summary:

 I thought the dull aching was something other than my demise. As it turned out, I was sorely mistaken. Perhaps I should listen to Alphonse more; maybe then there wouldn't be another bloody tragedy that would, inevitably, end it all. For good.

My Thoughts: 

There’s a twist in this fic that I LOVE, and while I refuse to spoil it I suggest reading just to find out what it is. It rocked my world the first time I read and I’m pretty sure I cried for like 3 days

Fic Status: Complete

Warnings: I haven’t read this since 2013/2014, so just be warned if you decide to check it out

Other Crossovers

More Than Just a Murder by AkitaFallow

CSI/Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover

Official Summary: 

As bodies pile up and evidence remains scarce, the CSI team has to fight against increasingly strange circumstances and an even stranger suspect in order to solve what is likely the most complicated case they have ever encountered.

My Thoughts:

 I know this seems like a weird premise but hear me out: this fic will Change Your Life. It’s so incredibly well written and the character development is phenomenal. If you don’t like CSI (I personally didn’t when I started reading) you can easily substitute random forensic scientists in and it works just as well. The real sell to this fic is watching Ed stumble through 2009 Las Vegas lmao

Fic Status: Complete

Warnings: This fic follows FMA 2003 ONLY, so if you haven’t seen that yet I highly suggest waiting to read.

AU’s (Alternate Universes)

Disorient by Esama

Official Summary:

 Who was he, what had happened to him, why did he have automail - and how was he there, in the past? 

My Thoughts: 

One of the best time travel fics I’ve ever read from any fandom. There’s so much time put in to fleshing out Ed’s new character (Nicholas) as well as his relationship with the younger version of Al and himself. Less plot heavy and focuses more on the day to day life of Resembool with Nicholas there

Type of AU: Time Travel + Amnesia

Fic Status: Dead

Warnings: This was a fic that got deleted in 2012 that I managed to grab before it was gone. If this list goes outside of my own circle and the original author wants me to remove this I will gladly do so (just message me @wavedwhelk on twitter or tumblr). 

A Boy Named Ed by BelloftheSea

Official Summary: 

Ed knew he was different. It wasn't just that he was smarter than the other kids or even that he had automail. No, it had more to do with the way people would occasionally look at him, like they were expecting somebody else. It was the way his mechanic cried the day she met him. It was the way his dad would sometimes slip – and call him Fullmetal.

My Thoughts: 

What I really love about this fic is that it’s a reincarnation AU that makes SENSE in the FMA universe - it doesn’t give a half-assed reason for why it happened, but rather works within the confines of the universe. Also I really love watching Ed go to school and pretend to try and be a normal kid while hiding the fact that he’s the Fullmetal Alchemist

Type of AU: Reincarnation (kind of)

Fic Status: Dead

My Master Ed by Blue Teller

Official Summary: 

Slave number Twenty Three didn't know what to make of his new Master. The strange boy was nothing like other slave owners. Short on both height and temper, yet strangely kind to him, Master Ed seemed to know something about him that he didn't himself. Just what was it?

My Thoughts: 

One of the best fics that takes place in the Xerxes time period IMO. I don’t want to spoil too much but you see a lot of the consequences for Ed’s actions and it can get really really intense (but in the best way)

Fic Status: Dormant

Type of AU: Time Travel

Warnings: This gets surprisingly deep. Prepare Yourself

Men and Angels by Laora

Official Summary: 

Trisha can't understand; she's terrified, but she has to stay calm. Her boys are gone, replaced by her sons from the future...and something, she knows, is terribly wrong.

My Thoughts: 

A time travel fic that changes time for both current Ed/Al AND past Ed/Al (when they were 6). I think my favorite part from this fic has got to be how Mustang’s team reacts to (and tries to take care of) the frightened baby Elric’s. There isn’t a ton of plot but the character interactions drive this fic - if you care deeply about these characters you’ll really enjoy this

Type of AU: Time Travel

Fic Status: Complete

we haunt ourselves by sekalaista

Official Summary: 

"There's something funny about that kid," Maes says. "I just can't put my finger on it."

My Thoughts: 

Literal perfection jam packed into 1000 words

Type of AU: Canon divergence

Fic Status: Complete

and then it wasn't by GentleTouchGinger

Official Summary: 

When Roy notices his smartest student is struggling, he does some snooping and discovers some startling truths about his home life.

My Thoughts: 

Probably one of the best modern AU’s that I’ve found so far for FMA. It follows a pretty normal structure (Ed and Al are in foster homes, Roy notices something’s wrong, etc etc), but the character’s are kept true to their in-canon personalities and the plot is interesting enough to keep you on your toes. Also I cried once I finished reading it so there’s that

Type of AU: Modern/School AU

Fic Status: Complete

Truth Revealed by Fallen Crest

Official Summary: 

A lesson without pain is meaningless...to save their future, they will suffer through the truth. Brought to a room to view FMA:Brotherhood, the FMAB characters learn the dark secrets that surround Amestris. Follow the drama, the suspense, the laughs, the friendships that grow, and the pain they suffer in exchange as their future is laid out before their eyes.

My Thoughts:

 I’m actually right in the middle of reading this right now (it’s 2,500+ pages…...be ready) and it’s SO fun. Not really the kind of fic I ever expected myself to like, but everyone’s in character enough to enjoy their reactions and the interactions in between watching. The pain factor also makes things more interesting. Overall I really suggest checking this out even if it seems like something you wouldn’t enjoy

Type of AU: Characters reacting to the show

Fic Status: Dead (Destroyed by copyright)

Warnings: This fic was taken down due to copyright, but luckily some people managed to save it and upload a download link

Project Rainbow by Missy Skywalker

Official Summary:

 It took him coughing up blood on five different occasions for Edward Elric to finally give in and see a doctor.

My Thoughts: 

I cried for 2 hours after I read this and that’s all I’m saying

Type of AU: Ishvalan!Ed and Al

Fic Status: Complete

Number Twenty Eight by Sevlow

Official Summary: 

As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days.

My Thoughts: 

I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW DARK THIS FIC GETS. It’s probably the darkest FMA fic I’ve been able to sit through in its entirety. WITH THAT BEING SAID...if you can manage to read it all it ends on a happy note. I don’t want to spoil too much but basically: Ed gets kidnapped, experimented on, and turned into a dog chimera

Type of AU: Chimera!Ed

Fic Status: Complete

Warnings: REALLY DARK, mentions of rape (not explicit or shown), animal death

Misanthropical by nebluus

Official Summary: 

Alfonse and Eduard are best friends living in Germany. When an experiment gone wrong brings in a new yet familiar face, it will be up to them to get their friend home...and not get killed in the process. 

My Thoughts:

 I ended up finding this fic back in 2012 but it’s surprisingly held up pretty well. It was unfortunately abandoned pretty quickly into its plot, but the worldbuilding that’s there is really interesting and makes it worth it to read

Type of AU: Dimension Travel

Fic Status: Dead

Warnings: This fic takes place in the FMA 2003 universe ONLY, so if you haven’t watched that I highly suggest you don’t read yet!

General Fics/Non-AU’s

Firstfruits by toosolidcuuj

Official Summary:

 For the past eleven years, Edward Elric has been raising his family and recovering from the Promised Day. Some memories are easier to talk about than others, but he's made his peace with them. Of course the one that comes back to haunt him is the one he tried to forget about completely.

My Thoughts: 

This fic treats the topic of rape with nuance; the author admits that they don’t struggle with PTSD, but have reached out and done as much research as they can on the subject. I ended up really liking this fic for what it was setting out to do and what it accomplished, and while I did find it difficult to read at times due to the subject matter I still found myself appreciating it 

Fic Status: MIA

Warnings: This fic deals with the trauma that comes along with rape, however it’s never described in detail and the focus is solely on how the character copes with it. Please mind the tags and rating (mature)

Skin Deep by Batsitousai

Official Summary: 

Trisha and Van's first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

My Thoughts: 

IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR TRANS ED I don’t want to say too much but I found it really heartwarming (especially the conversations between Mustang/Hawkeye and Ed) and just overall a really strong fic

Fic Status: Complete

Anything but Normal  by DAsObiQuiet

Official Summary: 

Fifteen years after the Promised Day, Selim Baker leads a life like any normal human. Then an attempt on his life throws his world into chaos and begins to show him just how much of a monster he really is.

My Thoughts: 

I’m not usually one to read fic’s that don’t revolve around the protagonists, but this peaked my interest enough to check it out. The author does an amazing job in fleshing out Selim (both his human side and Homunculus side) and it’s interesting to see how Selim reacts to things post-canon

Fic Status: Complete

An Overbearing Legacy by Missy Skywalker

Official Summary: 

Elicia Hughes was tired of trying to live up to her father's reputation, so on the night of her thirteenth birthday, she decided to run away. Luckily, she gets interrupted by someone who knows what losing a parent is like.

My Thoughts: 

I don’t have a ton to say but I found this fic really sweet and I enjoyed getting to see some character development in an older version of Elysia

Fic Status: Complete

At the Very Ports We Blow by baka deshi

Official Summary: 

Edward Elric has made his way to the University of Munich, where he faces a new challenge in the eerily familiar face of his peer and colleague, Alfons Heiderich. There's just one problem: the two of them have to get along.

My Thoughts: 

This has gotta be one of my favorite CoS compliant fics. I really love the idea that Alfons and Ed actually hate each other leading up to the events of CoS and have to actively work on themselves and their friendship before they can work on the rockets

Fic Status: Complete

Warnings: This fic follows FMA 2003 ONLY. If you have not seen it, I highly suggest waiting to read. 

Where The Corners Meet by sahrmael

Official Summary: 

The year is 1934. The change in the Amestrian government has finally brought great peace and prosperity to the nation. But one eager boy, the son of former State Alchemist Edward Elric, has made it his duty to uncover the tragedies of his father's past, and to correct the mistakes of his own.

My Thoughts: 

Like the warning says, I remember really liking this fic, but since I haven’t read it since 2012 I can’t remember if there’s anything weird in it or not. I’ll reread it soon to make sure

Fic Status: Dead

Warnings: I haven’t read this fic since 2012 and debated whether or not I should even add it on here, however I remember REALLY liking it back then so I ultimately decided to. Basically proceed with caution because I can’t remember all of what happens in this fic

[spadesinglasses]

Love Victor (series)

oooh new format for this post let’s get into itttt.

Below are my reaction per episode. I will be writing them as i finish each so its more clear and fresh and all that jazz.

Let’s see if tumblr posts has a word count limit.

lol wrong title earlier X_X

Note, the #glassthoughts tags is a reaction tag. Its never a review, or an intellectual essay about stuff I watch. I dont have the capacity to do all those.

Spoilers below so beware. Episode 1 is posted separately because I intend to make posts for the first and last epsiode only but that did not work out lol.

EPISODE 2

it took me a looong time to finish this episode. I kept on pausing it because something just feels so wrong about it. I didn’t know what it was when i was going through it, but when it finally ended it finally clicked.

The episode reminds me of the sentiment most homophobes use against gay people. “If you focus on the emotional part of the relationship, you will be happy with the opposite sex.” Growing up ive heard this phrase used against other people so much. Hearing it in my native language has always been a punch in the gut. 

And now this show who is supposed to be something happy and nice, is just having this kind of phrase of mentality just well up there.

I’m sure that its not Victor’s and that he is just exploring his sexuality. But the usual tinge of homophobia whenever he talks that he might be like Simon is honestly grating.

It’s definitely a me issue because other people seem to be enjoying the series immensely, but whenever Victor gets into that headspace, I just hear my child self crying myself to sleep because of internal homophobia.

Also i can see why people say  that for a show that is supposed be about Victor’s sexuality and growth, it does sure show a heck lot of heterosexuality of those who are around him.

Maybe in the future i will rewatch the series again with a more patient mind, but for now, expect me to skip a lot of scenes X_X

End

Episode 3

Okay the audacity of Victor saying “he tries” to be a good friend. Like dang okay chill with the lies. You’re already lying about your sexuality lmao.

Sorry im being very critical and bitter about this show, but i must persevere for the fanfics and fanarts i will gorge myself into later.

anywho reaction time!

Mia and Victor would’ve been cute if only Victor doesn’t sound like he keeps on enforcing this compulsory heterosexuality he has in mind.  BUT hey he might be Bi people! 

I keep censoring myself because of how bitter and hateful i sound. My apologies for the phrases i forgot to delete above and beyond this line xD.

Anyways im over anything about Andrew. He can go fuck his egotistical self. If the series will show 

Hmm i wonder if the term “Comp Het” will even drop in this series.

Back to reaction,

Honestly Felix is just a lesbian in a man’s body at this point. Making his own shampoo? Like wow give me some of that kind of friend. 

The number of times I rolled my eyes at Andrew is ridiculous. 

Whilst typing this part it was more enforced in my mind that Love Victor is just a “supposedly gayer” Teen Wolf without the wolfing parts.

Lake is Lydia Felix is Stiles Andrew is a walmart Jackson Benji is basically a less grumpy Derek or Danny tbh Victor is Scott

I really hate this idea now.

The parents drama! Honestly, very unnecessary in my opinion. Victor is already dealing with a religious family, now he has to deal with a religious and broken family? Like dang they could’ve just chosen one struggle for him, now everyone will think his sexuality is a consequence for his parents’ sin or sth.

Maybe it’ll play into a bigger plot twist in the future?

Maybe Victor’s mom is cheating with Mia’s father? Seeing as how there was an unnecessary shot of her father with the back of a woman facing on the camera which is weird but okay. 

Im theorizing now X_X

Anyways have y’all seen how poor Felix was so nervous because his goddamn friend isn’t there to supposedly help him?

Sorry im hating on Victor too much but this scene reminds me of how awful Simon’s friends are and like bruuuh is Felix supposed to be the lead character?

He really is like Stiles who is supposed to be the lead for Teen Wolf in my opinion, he’s just a much better written character that Sc/tt

lmao sorry my issues with other series is bleeding into this one X_X

End

Episode 4

Not much to say without getting too salty so moving onnn.

End

Episode 5

This series is just showing all the fear and pain i went through and am going through back when I was a teenager and til now. Without getting into any personal stuff, that last bs Victor’s father spewed just hit me so much.

I guess one of the reasons why its hard for me to watch Love Victor is because it shows me the teenager side of me way back when. Minus the girlfriend one because i never really persevered that much to tamper any likes for men. Internal homophobia really hit me back then tho xD

End

Episode 6

This episode is a mess and I hate it.

We saw yet again Victor literally using Felix’s ignorance and naivety to get himself out of a situation he put himself into. 

AND Felix even got the wrong idea or got fed with the wrong idea that the reason why Victor brought him along is to act as a buffer because he wasn’t ready to give up being a virgin or have sex in general. Yep that is definitely the reason, no other reason at all that involves making latte art with a known barista.

Lake and Felix kissed so there was that. I still am shipping Victor and Felix together despite Victor’s continuous bs with him being a good friend, but that’s just me.

And totally knew Andrew and Mia got a thing. If this blew up and hurt Lake im suing.

Lake and Felix are literally the two people keeping this show intact. Not gonna drop some political statement here no sir.

Again Benji needs to grow a personality out of this whole barista thing. One thing i am grateful for this show is that there was no family drama at all!

I think.

End

Episode 7

UGHHH MISS ME WITH THAT NORMAL TALK.

Ive been making a conscious effort to stop saying that heterosexuality is normal. That shit is hard to unlearn because its what ive always heard in my asian household for yeaaaaaaars. And now this twink is just gonna throw the term around like he has no issues with it. TO SIMON EVEN.

Like brooooooh. Im over my 2010 internal homophobia, no need to dig it all up again. Every episode.

Aww the dancing in different clothes is cute but,

FUCKING VICTOR LIED JUST FOR WHAT?

Homeboy be doing the most to keep his fucking sexuality from bursting out, with his foot both planted firmly inside the closer AND THEN THE NEXT SECOND would end up as if he is ready to risk it all just to see Benji naked.

I AM FUCKING livid, confused, and just intense emotion everywhere.

Ive seen a couple of dumbo scenes from other shows that got the “closeted” man be doing literally the most obvious shit that could make anyone catch them, BUT THIS, with how VEHEMENT Victor is against being “NOT NORMAL” AND THEN LIE JUST TO STAY IN A MOTEL WITH THE GLORIFIED HOT GUY, takes the goddamn cake.

The fucking hypocrisy man. Ive battled internal homophobia before, AND ACKNOWLEDGE THAT WE ALL DEAL WITH IT DIFFERENTLY but holy fucksticks. I’m not this evil.

The thing is, there is so much a person could do that you could go “ah its because they are in the closet and is afraid to come out” before it goes to the territory of “fucking hell, this is not just about his sexuality, this is just him now doing stuff consciously to take advantage of his supposed fear”. The girlfriend thing is even waaay over the top, but we all went with it because he’s supposed to be figuring things out. BUT most of the time, he literally could not even imagine going beyond the line HE CREATED for their relationship. AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT HE WILL LIE JUST TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH A GUY? Now he wants to test the male side of his sexuality? BECAUSE PORN DOESN’T EXIST?  BECAUSE LOOKING AT MALE UNDERWEAR MODELS IN THE UNDERWEAR SECTION IS NOT ENOUGH? HE NEEDS IT TO BE ACTUALLY PHYSICAL TO CONFIRM SOMETHING?

Im ahead too much, real time the scene im in the episode is still them about to leave the shop but holy fucking hell. If this lie ended up becoming something more in this same episode, expect more capslock because jfc.

And people will still claim he’s somewhat attracted to the other gender. 

AND SOMETHING DID HAPPENED. ANDREW AND MIA KISSED

FUCKIN VICTOR

Also i was very very worried that Pilar and Felix will be a thing BUT THANK GOD THAT DIDN’T BECOME A THING. Still unsure whether i like Lake and Felix together, but i love them individually.

I cant really comment on any of the parents drama because to be honest i skip them whenever its just her and him.

These two fuckers lie to one another. BECAUSE OF WHAT? THEY WANT TO FUCKIN STICK THEIR TONGUES INTO ONE ANOTHERS MOUTH? IS THIS REALLY WHERE THIS SHOW IS GOING? AND THEY ALMOST CENSORED IT BECAUSE ITS GAY? NOT THE OTHER HORRIBLE STUFF THAT IS HAPPENING?

Im tired.

But i hafta finish the show for fanarts and fanfics.

okay Benji has a legitimate reason for lying. I’ll take that.

See people you see me live writing this whole rant thing :D.

BOY TOOK MONTHS KISSING MIA FOR MIA TO ONLY SAY THEIR TONGUES GRAZE SOMETIMES.

bUT THE SAME GUY JUST WENT LAPLAPAN TO THE MAX WITH BENJI THE ONE NIGHT THEY SPENT TOGETHER?

REALLY PEOPLE? REALLY?

Huh I wonder back when I was his age, would I also just kiss the first gay guy i became comfortable with? Despite being so into the closet and battling internal homophobia via punching the walls?

Dang that monologue tho. We as non het doesn’t want our lives to be hard. But at this point, i stopped blaiming my own sexuality and just started blaming heterosexuals for making the world this fucking horrible for us. That’s when my internal homophobia SLOWLY lessen. It’s still there but hey at least every crosshair  is not on me.

Okay i get people saying that Simon is irresponsible for making Victor like put his family on the back burner for a bit etc etc. Also the reaction against Benji getting mad when Victor wanted them to stop being gay while in their house, is reasonable. Victor did calmly told Benji and his beau that his family is stretched thin etc etc. I get that. I get that sometimes hiding your sexuality for other people is what is necessary.

BUT  fucking please recognize how damaging that is to the person you are talking to. Even if you think Victor is in the 100% right about this, AT THE VERY LEAST acknowledge why Benji is mad. Sure he could’ve just left with his boyfriend instead of just staying there. And sure Victor pulled through in the end and put that dusty grandpa motherfucker to his place, but that’ll fucking sting okay.

Also i might be saying all this in a place where I’m not really that close to ANY of my relatives, so ya know, call me ignorant or ungrateful whatever.

END

Episode 8

Okay uhh Mia and Andrew is still a thing APPARENTLY.

AWW BRAM IS CUTE

Lol Simon’s “Yay boobs” like please Victor keep the heterosexual drama out of this chatroom lmao.

Also Felix group texting the others is hilarioussss.

If Victor touches or says one bad thing at Bram? its on sight.

Also Im not sure what to feel with Mia getting jealous at Andrew. Like girl you were the one who said he’s nothing, and now this? Issa bad look honey.

Victor is embarassing. Are all extroverts just this i dunno peppy? 

You know what makes me happy in this episode? Keiynan’s attitude bleeding out to Bram’s character. I love it!

Goddd Keiynan is so hot XD

hahahaha this episode is lighter thank god.

“why would they want to help a complete stranger” because they are good people and surprisingly they still exist! 

Ohhh So it seems like Nick Robinson filmed his scenes for this episode on a different day. Ive never seen him be with the main group. That’s weird.

END

Episode 9

Benji distancing himself because he wants to make his 1 year relationship work? Good guy! Him not saying to his boyfriend about the coworker of his kissing him? Bad move.

Sure we can all talk about how little stuff doesn’t need to be told to your lover if you’re sure its not gonna happen again. The thing is,  communication is key. Y’all will talk about communication being integral in a relationship but keep shit like this in the DL because yOU’RE JUST THAT SURE IT AINT GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN? Fo real?

Also Benji is feeling guilty for a reason.

Vincent is very in the wrong for kissing a taken man just because said taken man is comfortable with him or showed vulnerability. Victor is in the wrong 100% and I’ll never forget that.

Felix and that hug with Victor is adorableeee. Love that coming out scene. Again raising my eyebrows at those who say Victor is Bi.

Felix showing what’s in his apartment is fucking great. No wonder we don’t see his mom or anything. They say that the saddest people are always the one who will do their best to keep everyone happy. Felix is being peppy, have these random phrases he use to just amuse people makes sense.

In this household, we protect Felix no matter what. HOPEFULLY next season we get to fucking know his surname or sth.

Again nothing new with the drama surrounding the parents. I hate them and honestly i am so annoyed by the father’s face and everything. (still have that hatred from One day at  time but we don’t talk about that here)

The letter is stupid and i wonder what Pilar will do about it. Are we gonna get a To All the boys i loved before thing?

OH Felix giving Lake an ultimatum. Wow what a move honestly. On one hand Felix has the right to protect himself. He wants to be free with who he loves, and keeping it a secret stopped being amusing because he knew what it feels like to hide a part of yourself.

Lake’s confidence has been obviously shot and damaged by her mother. Not saying that justifies what she is doing  BUT it came from somewhere. A night with Felix talking to her about his life IS NOT going to just uproot all those thoughts from her mind. As much as i love Felix, he is not a solution.

hmm what else. The father can go die for all i care. Lmao.

END

Episode 10

OH I THOUGHT PILAR KNOWS NOW BUT NOOOO

OH NOOO O NO NO NOOO

AND ANDREW STIRRING SHIT UP NOOOOOO

PILAR STOOOOP

NOO NOT PUBLICLY

OMFG

 I CANNOT.

Also i cannot get over Andrew’s actor looking like Stromae. They have the same eyes, eyebrows and expressions X_X

THIS IS WHY WE DONT KEEP SHIT BEFORE A PUBLIC EVENT. IT ALWAYS EXPLODES ON A PUBLIC EVENT.

YOU BET YOUR ass i skipped the whole confrontation scene. I’ll go back to it maybe or just look at gifs but nope. My cancer rising and moon can’t handle that shit.

Is ... is Mia going to see Victor and Benji together and then theorize? Because god freaking damnit im tired of that plot twist.

Oh Benji. Honey honey honey please don’t do whatever I think you’re about to do.

FUCKING NEW IT. CALLED IT. CALLED ITITTTT MIA FUCKIGN SAW I HATE VERYTHING.

....

wait the way the ending was shot is weird. The cliffhanger is weird. Everything is weird.

ILL MAKE A HUNCH that it was actually just Victor in his dream land thinking that coming out is that easy and that you just blurt it out.

Bet you the next season will start with no body but Felix and Mia and Andrew know about his sexuality.

The shot was too much on Victor. There was no sound cue from the family etc etc.  I hate the ending so much. Love Victor could’ve been so much more. Could’ve pioneered a fresh way to show lgbt stories and how coming out is this and that. Even if the show is for Gen Z and this generation, coming out should reflect to how coming out is generally perceived nowadays. But i guess that was too much. Foolish me for having my expectations waay too high.

The End

[dregstrash]

jealousy, the thing with claws (pt. 3)

A/N: Here it is Part 3!!! Thank you guys for continuing to read this and sticking with these two idiots who don’t know how to deal with emotions. 

Part 1 // Part 2 

Tagging: @kestrel-of-herran @ipizzippy @stormwitchprivateer @queenghafa

-

A king never avoids confrontation. It was inevitable in ruling a kingdom and managing an army. Confrontations were always opportunities to test one’s mettle and prove against adversity. Avoiding it would only be cowardice and ill fitting to a man of his station. 

So, in the weeks after his conversation with Zoya, he didn’t avoid her or Petya, he merely evaded. 

He evaded Petya’s invitations to ride out with him.

He evaded private and necessary strategy sessions with his general.

He evaded the eastern gardens that ran between the main castle and the Little Palace. 

He rather liked that word. It gave him the illusion of a control he neither had nor felt.

Nikolai had a pressing meeting with one of his Tidemakers about the progress of his newly designed ship, but his feet refused to obey him and took him down the long path that connected his lab with the forest. He had a vague recollection of the path he was on, and when he looked up with the sunlight filtering through the dense leaves he took a minute to take in a breath.

It felt like its own kind of bliss to be surrounded by nothing but sunlight and birds. The air lay heavy on his tongue bringing in the taste of flowers in full blossom and in the distance he could hear the lively thrum of bees.

He continued on his walk and turned a corner that led into a small grove and almost ran into another body in the small grove.

“G-general!” Nikolai exclaimed.

Zoya who looked equally surprised started at her title, jumped slightly and offered him a quick smile. 

“Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He smiled against his better judgement, “I like to keep you on your toes, Nazyalensky. It makes for good practice.”

Zoya didn’t really laugh, but a small quirk of her mouth was enough to betray her amusement.

Nikolai opened his mouth, but shut it quickly when he realized he could not think of anything to say. What did they use to talk about before everything? What did they even have to chat about? It seems most of their conversations rotated on death, destruction, and doom. 

The sound of the bees was louder here, and he followed the sound and realized what Zoya was looking at when he interrupted her.

“Bees never seem the same after that saintsforsaken place.” He said plainly. He could see the expanse of that emptiness. The sands that shifted to solidity, but never enough to feel real. He heard the bees. Saw the amber. Saw who put herself there for him. For him. She did that for--

“Juris says that it’s a good reminder,” Zoya took a step to stand beside him, but her eyes were trained on the hive that nestled in the nearest tree. 

“Easy for Juris to say,” Nikolai responded, “He must feel homesick.”

Zoya’s eyes flashed a quick silver, before returning to their natural blue, “For your sake, I won’t relay that message.”

“How’s that going? Your training? Mastering all the elements? Becoming the most powerful Grisha?” Nikolai forced the deep caring in his voice into lightness. Bending the concern into teasing.

Her eyes darted to him briefly, but returned to the tree.

“It’s--it’s unnatural. It goes beyond anything any normal Grisha can do. It shouldn’t be possible, and part of me thinks that it should have stayed that way.”

This time Nikolai was the first to move. He stepped in front of her, blocking the bee hive, and made her look into his eyes. 

“You’re worried about turning into the Darkling?”

“Like calls to Like, Nikolai. More power only calls to more power.” She spoke evenly, and logically, that he almost laughed. Because if anyone had less of an ability to turn into the monster that almost destroyed their world it was Zoya.

“You’re not like him. You’re better than him. Better than anything his dark twisted mind could possibly imagine.”

“You don’t know me,” Her tone remained even, but her words were harsh, “You don’t know what it’s like to feel powerless and imagine every day what it might be like to have a whole solution in your hands. If you really knew me, you’d worry, too.”

He tilted his head at her. He turned the phrases and bare truth over and tried to shape them into the solid image he carried with him everywhere he went. He saw her point. He saw the temptation of power in the palms of her hands, and he saw exactly what that kind of ability does to a person.

But he also thought she was wrong. He remembered the scars on her back. The tiger cubs that were spared because of an instinctive protectiveness. The kind of light that she honed into a sharp blade.

“It’s because I have you that I don’t worry, Zoya,” He whispered. Nikolai realized that he had stepped closer to her. And she didn’t step away. He cloud see the way the light hit her eyes and revealed the brownish color of her hair. She was close enough for the heat of her to reach him. If he was brave enough, he could reach out and brush his fingers across the smooth outline of her face. “You are made of the very fabric cut from this Earth. I know you won’t do anything against it.”

She didn’t speak. She just looked at him for a long while, an unreadable emotion surging up into the blue pool of her eyes. Just as he was about to step back, she opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a slight rustle of leaves.

“Zo! I managed to wrangle-- Oh, Your Majesty, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Petya emerged from the path Nikolai was on, a basket under one arm and a blanket in the other. The other man looked flushed from his walk and eyes bright as his gaze landed on Zoya.

Nikolai, who had jumped back in surprise, managed to smile brightly at his friend-- no matter how false it felt. 

“I’m just about to leave. I had to talk with the General about some military formations that the Fjerdans are forming. I’ll leave you to your afternoon.” He said in a rush. He needed to get out of here. The air that had rested so pleasantly on his skin was stifling. He didn’t know where to look. The basket? No. That was a dangerous line of thinking. The blanket? Even worse. His eyes wanted to latch onto Zoya’s like a lost man seeing a familiar path.

But he couldn’t. That would be his sure and utter undoing.

“Will we see you later?” Petya called as he moved to stand beside Zoya, “There’s that dinner with the visiting lord from the north.”

Nikolai gave a tight lipped smile, “I have a previous dinner engagement with Princess Ehri. Maybe next time.”

-

“This is the third time we’ve dined alone.” Ehri raised her voice across the table, and shook Nikolai from his thoughts. 

Nikolai gave her a studied smile, “We will be spending the rest of our lives together, I figure we could start with dinner.”

Ehri’s brows furrowed, as she pushed her half-eaten plate away from her. Nikolai requested a private meal so there was no servant to fill the awkward silence by taking the plate away. 

“This is the third time we’ve dined together this week.” She clarified.

Nikolai heard the question and accusation in her tone, and he didn’t care to answer it.

“Should I take the sign of you counting the amount of times I spend time with you as a flattery or an insult?” 

“Would it matter? You seem to take insults as if they were flattery anyway.” She sniffed.

He smirked into his wine glass, “When one looks as I do, everything becomes a compliment or jealousy. If the latter, I like to think of it as poisoned admirations.”

“And you’re not one to be jealous, are you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and Nikolai could only grip his cup tighter. Hoping that she didn’t notice the rigidity in his posture.

She did.

[coup-de-maine]

How to enter a fandom - RPC

Hey guys, time for a friendly PSA from yours truely~

So I’ve been in and out of a lot of fandoms, made friends, enemies, frenemies, grave mistakes and happy accidents. I also see a lot of people come in other fandoms. Most of yall do great but I see some people carry in this weird sort of self deprecating attitude that can immediately turn rpers away from them, which results in; more of that self deprecation. So Im here to hopefully help out with the best ways to enter a fandom or an rpc, make your presence known and make lots of wonderful friends.

Now the first, and most important thing, and I notice a ton of people struggle with it is:

General attitude. 

Let me give two examples of some first time posts.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. I know my bio and my theme sucks but would anyone like to rp? Maybe?”

VS.

“Hey! I’m new to the fandom. My bio and rules are located here, though they’re still under construction I’m really eager to develop them with interactions!”

Now I know the first one is tempting for a lot of reasons. You might not even feel like its all that bad, but up next to the second one it actually sounds a little...depressing, monotone, dry. Even though they start the same, one ends with me feeling like: this person really doesn’t put effort into things, they dont even really want to be here. All my threads with them are going to be lazily written or probably written with half baked enthusiasm.

The second person is happy to be here, eager to interact, admits that since they’re a new blog not everything is perfect. Yet, they don’t talk down on themselves or make it seem like anyone who talks to them will only be taking pity on them.

This is actually a big problem I see in the rpc. Making people take pity on you for interactions and the rule with that is simple:

don’t make people feel like they have to take pity on you. 

It’s a knee jerk reaction, I know. We’re all awkward humans on the internet who want to play up our faults. Who wants to say “My stuff is SO awesome! It’s the best”??? 

Well. You do. You’re new to a fandom. People already have established relationships, character arks, possibly with another version of the muse youre playing. Backstories so detailed it’ll make your head spin. You are literally selling yourself to these other rpers. Don’t sell them “A vacuum cleaner that sucks. No, not sucks up the dirt, it just sucks. Like me, Im trash and dont even have a working vacuum” No one wants to buy a vacuum cleaner that sucks.

Hate to break it to you, but when you say you suck, or your stuff sucks; people are gunna believe you. Or they’re just gunna pity you. And thats not great either. 

Heck you might think; why not? So long as they rp with me, whats wrong with that? 

Well... lots of things but mostly; pity isn’t a good feeling. Nobody wants to feel guilted into rping with you. Imagine seeing someone on your dash constantly posting about how no one likes them, their character or interacting with them. How they wanna die because they never get asks, no one likes their starters. (Sound extreme? I’ve seen it.) It makes you feel bad right? It makes you wanna like them but like- where do you even start??? They don’t even like them?? What common ground do you have?? “Hey, I see you hate yourself... uh... I hate you too?” Not great. Actually bad. You don’t know how to approach this person without becoming an emotional crutch, and you know they’ll latch on to you and suck every positive emotion out of your body so how do you win?

So lesson one is; People don’t want to be forced to feel so bad that they rp with you, they want to feel inspired to. Inspire some dudes! (or non-dude identifying people)

Presentation!

This is everything. Present yourself. You don’t need flashy icons or a cool promo- let me tell you, I’ve made some shitty promos in my life. See Here

That was my promo for a long as time. Until it was THIS that a friend made for me (A friend that I made. Through how awesome I presented myself. Thanks Vee, if you see this I still love you)

I can’t stress enough how important attitude is because I’ve had both a shitty attitude and a great one in the RPC and let me tell you, nothing kills a blog faster than a shitty attitude. Wanna make a self deprecating posts about that meme that you got 0 asks for? NUH UH. Think again. PITY = BAD, SHORT LASTING FRIENDSHIPS. INSPIRED = SUPER AWESOME HAPPY FUN TIMES FOREVER.

Yo, present yourself in a way that makes people wanna approach you. Get them interested, say something wacky or edgy or if your character is self deprecating then self deprecate through them but DO IT IN A FUN WAY. The people who care about icons and fancy promos usually aren’t worth lasting friendships either. Sometimes they literally spend more time formatting than writings something worth while for you. (some of you really balance it and just love formatting but u know im not talking about u Im talking about those that literally wont talk to us that dont)

So present yourself well and be genuine.

--- WAIT WAIT WAIT- be genuine?? What if my genuine self is self deprecating and negative? 

[JOHNNY TEST NOISE] 

HELL NO shut the what up I know you’re not, I know that’s a reflex to cover up how insecure you are, I know you hate how pathetic and small you feel so you point out all the things wrong with you before someone else can. That’s not you, and you are capable of more than that.

Dude. (and non-dude identifying peeps) I’m gunna say it again. I’m gunna say it a million times; one day it will sink in. Everybody feels that way. 

What?? Octo ur so cool and confident tho

You know how you never noticed?? CANT SEE MY HANDS SHAKE THROUGH THE COMPUTER.

DONT KNOW HOW LONG I HESITATED BEFORE SENDING THAT ASK MEME TO YA.

The internet is a playground because you can trick people into believing whatever you want about yourself. YEP even good things!!! You don’t have to wear your flaws on your sleeve, and you certainly don’t have to wear them like a full body cast that prevents you from doing anything fun in your life.

Take the cast off, take a risk. You literally have nothing to lose. Especially if no one interacts with you as is anyways.

Be mindful

This is more of a trick I use to make myself feel better. I don’t follow a lot of people so my dash is pretty slow. It’s fairly easy to tell when people are and aren’t active/online so I literally have to trick myself sometimes but;

If you reblog a meme and get nothing, step back and ask yourself; am I sure anyone even saw it? and are the people who did maybe to shy to send anything? Or maybe nothing in that meme applies to their character.

As a mute character I am VERY restricted to what memes I reply to. As a character who speaks VERY LITTLE I am VERY restricted to what dialogues I can send at all. This means I’m required to edit memes a little (this is allowed by most meme creators btw) or I need a very good relationship with a character in order to say/sign that many words at them.

And worse case scenario, queue it and reblog it again/later. Its no biggie, some memes don’t make it.

Self reflect

Check out people on the dash. Do they have interactions? What are they like? Is their character more welcoming? Maybe you’re character is more intimidating. You might need to actually seek out interaction.

Tumblr has this huge enigma where everyone wants asks but no one wants to send them. Curious anons come from someone, magic anons come from your peers, followers, friends. Some of them are pretty obvious. Want asks? Send them. We really need to get the ball rolling with this because its honestly a problem. Show some initiative and reach out. It actually feels pretty good seeing someone react to your outrageous anon. And its a lot of stress relief if you play an otherwise very serious character to get to branch out and be silly.

So you send asks, you like starter calls- why isn’t it working?

Well, a stranger knocks on your door and tries to get to know you. Its a little awkward- it can work sure in some cases. But in most you’ll probably close the door and phone the police.

The RPC isn’t as strange as that but what’s easier? Talking to a muse you’ve never met from a blog you’ve never seen before? Or writing a thread with your best bud, throwing in inside jokes and references to your favourite shows- teasing each other about that one embarrassing thing that happened to your muse- yeah. Yeah you get it.

If you have history or at least an idea what someone is like, you will want to interact with them more. I don’t know if you’re some mean... meanie pants whos gunna smack my muse because he offered you a cookie. And maybe you are, but if I don’t know you, or know that your muse is deeply traumatized by cookies, I might take that as you saying “Ew no get away I never wanna rp with you”.

It sounds harsh, but I KNOW it happens. It STILL happens to me, even with people I’m friends with. Even if someone has multiple blogs and I get on fine with one muse, if the other hates me I might get uneasy about sending in asks cause I feel like I’m directly bothering the mun (who I love on this blog but WHAT IF THEY START HATING ME THERE TOO???)

Separation is tricky. We all get jealous or feel neglected when our partners focus on another thread/ship or send mean angsty replies which is why its important to check yourself remind yourself you have value, mun =/= muse and that it’s all in good fun.

Have Rules

UGH no!!! Not rules I hate rules, I dont want to restrict anyone!

Listen. I get it. I was a rule-less blog for a long time. But you know what? You need them. Not just for you, but for the people who wanna interact. I still feel the need to ask people who have rules what they are and aren’t comfortable with. You might not realize it but shit can go down in rps especially in certain fandoms. Even if its just the basics. Write them. They matter.

Unless you’re fine with someone literally controlling your character, or a blog you dont even follow who RPs David Letterman tags you in a smutty thread where your muse and him are married and he’s heavily pregnant with 4 narwal baby’s I- I think you can see where I’m going.

If its just the basics, thats fine, everyone loves seeing that. No god modding, not forced shipping, ect- great. Less for me to remember. Add to it if you need to. Everyone experiences rp different. Make your experience a comfortable one.

(And stay tf away from me Preggo-letterman)

Step away.

If you’re feeling negative, just step away. Do not make a big post about it alerting everyone who follows you because they might not all respond well. If you have close friends in then fandom you can go to, talk to them, vent a little, or just remove yourself and get those feelings out. But remember that no one here is equipped to be your therapist, and we cant all be expected to take the burden from you. It is up to you to regulate your emotions. Use coping skills but please don’t make the fandom or your blog a toxic place to be.

You don’t feel good, and no one reading your posts feels good, and building friendships on not feeling good is just... completely not good.

Im not saying you must be sunshine and rainbows all the time, but feeling bad feels bad and even though rping is just a hobby and a past time you are still reaching into other peoples lives. Leave a good impact, try to be someone you would want to meet in the rpc. Make it a better place.

Tips and Tricks

If you leave with nothing else, please take these:

Send Messages. 

IM people, send them asks, get to know them before RPing.

Be kind.

Be generous.

Be enthusiastic.

Be happy.